The Granger Principle (Harry Potter AU) (Complete)

[tothepointofview]

The point is not what's actually possible in 2006 but what paranoid Russians think might be possible. And since they "know" Britain's ahead of what they thought possible - teleportation or invisibility - they have no reason to be complacent in other areas.

Click to shrink...

That seems like an exemption (considering they likely should have heard earlier if the U.S.A / English government was that much more advanced in general.) Not to mention they shouldn't have had the time since they learned about hermione to design something new (the russians but to an extent the english too).

detecting two 2 inch-high objects in a lift shouldn't be too difficult.

Click to shrink...

2 inches seems much larger then they seemed to be before, atleast how I was imagining it while reading the story. But if thats what your imagining then I suppose its alright in terms of believability, since I can't say for sure how possible it is. (Since humans are much thinner and less wide than they are tall and that they would mostly be focused on getting sensors that would be best detecting at things that are thick and wide over tall because for more normal types of drones that is advantageous to be built like that.)

Just seems like they were smaller with some of the stuff they pulled off with shrinking earlier in the story and with them pulling their heads out of the fabric thing.

 

[Starfox5]

That seems like an exemption (considering they likely should have heard earlier if the U.S.A / English government was that much more advanced in general.) Not to mention they shouldn't have had the time since they learned about hermione to design something new (the russians but to an extent the english too).

Click to shrink...

But the point is, the Russians don't know the capabilities of the British. They "know" that the British obviously are more advanced than the Russians thought, so anyone going "they can't have miniature drones" will be ignored since - institutional paranoia aside - they won't underestimate the British. It's like how the USA overestimated the USSR's capabilities in the past. Once you're initial estimates have bene proven wrong, few will go "well, we underestimated them in this area, but they totally can't be having this other tech".

2 inches seems much larger then they seemed to be before, atleast how I was imagining it while reading the story. But if thats what your imagining then I suppose its alright in terms of believability, since I can't say for sure how possible it is. (Since humans are much thinner and less wide than they are tall and that they would mostly be focused on getting sensors that would be best detecting at things that are thick and wide over tall because for more normal types of drones that is advantageous to be built like that.)

Just seems like they were smaller with some of the stuff they pulled off with shrinking earlier in the story and with them pulling their heads out of the fabric thing.

Click to shrink...

I always went with about 30 times smaller than normal.

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 54: The Infiltration

Black Lake, Scotland, January 28th, 2006

"So this is the other world."

"The muggle world."

"I expected it to be bigger."

"Yes. It lacks a certain je-ne-sais-quoi."

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

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

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

"Oh, no! They'd die from all the muggleness!"

"But would that actually be a bad thing?"

"Not really, but we aren't supposed to say so. Not in public, at least."

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

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

"Oh, she's mad!" wizarding Fred said, cocking his head to look at his brother.

"Or just annoyed. We haven't been hexed yet, so I'm going with annoyed," wizarding George replied.

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

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

"Yes. But I'm sure you can multitask."

"We were born to multitask, weren't we, George?"

"Of course, Fred!"

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

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

"Whom we still haven't met. Just saying."

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

"And we do?" The two exchanged an exaggerated glance.

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

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

"It's like the war," his brother added.

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

And they were already married and had a child.

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

"We'll see what we can arrange, once we've dealt with our current problem," Hermione said.

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

"Yes." Hermione nodded.

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

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

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

"Ah."

"Why didn't you say so?"

Ron grinned. "Just to confuse you."

"Ah."

"Well, you did grow up with our counterparts."

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

"Don't go outside at all," Ron interjected.

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

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

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

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

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

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

*****​

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

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

"Call us Fred and George. Of course we'll help out!" Wizarding George smiled widely.

Dumbledore nodded at Rosengarten. "This is Healer Rosengarten."

"Good evening," the Healer said.

Everyone shook hands.

"Hello!" wizarding Fred greeted the Healer. "You're the Yank, right?"

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

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

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

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

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

Wizarding Fred scoffed. "Six is two times three."

"I see you haven't forgotten how to count."

"And you didn't take Arithmancy."

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

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

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

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

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

That made Dumbledore raise an eyebrow and glance at Hermione.

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

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

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

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

"You're too kind!"

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

Dumbledore chuckled at that.

Grindelwald, though, sighed loudly. "We'd rather not be involved in Weasley family affairs."

"Oh, you've met Mum's counterpart?" wizarding Fred grinned again.

"She was quite vocal about the risks we've taken," Dumbledore said.

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

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

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

"We've perfected the Deadly Distractions. We've got the full range of options for the payload," wizarding George said.

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

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

"We've got that covered as well! Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And Stunning Spiders!"

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

*****​

Outskirts of Moscow, Russia, January 29th, 2006

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Thank you." To the laboratory, then. "The barn's clear," Ron said.

"But cold," Sirius commented.

"Of course."

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

"We aren't exactly invading," Ron replied. Was Sirius having second thoughts?

"I know. Just trying to lighten the mood."

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

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

"Dice?" Ron's counterpart asked.

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

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

Wizarding Ron still looked lost.

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

"Not real magic items," Hermione interjected. "It's all pretend."

"I knew that," Ron's counterpart said. He sounded a little miffed.

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

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

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

"They wouldn't work here, anyway, since they won't transport you across dimensions," Hermione added.

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

Hermione sighed. "That's where it gets complicated."

"And dangerous," wizarding Harry added.

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

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

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

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

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

*****​

Kremlin, Moscow, Russia, January 30th, 2006

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

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

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

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

He nodded, even though she couldn't see him. "Let me check."

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

"Alright, seems we're good here," he told them.

"We'll set up around the corner, out of sight of anyone peering through the grate," wizarding Harry said.

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

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

"I'll fetch the others and the trunk," Hermione said before disapparating.

"So, we got in just fine," his counterpart commented.

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

"I would've wanted to start closer to the goal," wizarding Ron went on.

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

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

Hermione reappeared, dropped the shrunken trunk on the ground and opened the lid. "We're here!"

"Finally!"

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

"I've already scanned," Ron told her.

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

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

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

"Ah, finally we can stretch our legs," Sirius said.

"There's more room inside the tent than outside here," Harry pointed out.

"Should've installed a fitness room if you want to be able to stretch your legs," Ginny added.

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

"Alright, this section of the Kremlin's air ducts is safe," Luna announced.

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

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

"Right!" Luna pulled a thin stick out of her bag. "I'll check the other side!"

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

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

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

The witch didn't take long before handing the goggles back. "Alright - we'll be right back!"

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

Five minutes later, they returned. "There's nothing in the second section," Luna announced.

Ron nodded. Time to move up, then.

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

*****​

Kremlin, Moscow, Russia, January 31st, 2006

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

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

"No," Luna replied. "The floor is undisturbed."

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

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

"Block them with a wall of ice?" Ron asked.

"Exactly! They won't register our body heat at all!" Luna said.

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

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

Hermione nodded. "That's right. They're probably here to identify gases and possibly biological agents."

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

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

"Basic defences against assassination, then," Harry concluded.

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

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

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

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

"Let me see how things are laid out," Ron's counterpart said, crouching down next to Luna.

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

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

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

"Right. Do you want to handle it?"

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

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

"They won't take long," she said.

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

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

Ron couldn't help smiling even as he snorted.

"And we're striking a blow against fascist tyranny," Luna added.

"We're not going to alter his mind with regards to his policies," Hermione told Luna.

"Why not? If we're already changing his memories we could do so much more!"

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

Luna sniffed. "He wouldn't be a great loss for the world. Quite the contrary."

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

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

"We can't exactly decide this when we've got him," Luna protested. "We need to settle this now."

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

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

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

This was a serious problem.

*****​

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes," wizarding Ron added. "Even the Healers at St Mungo's have trouble sorting out brains."

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

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

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

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

"Just a few corrections," Harry said with a snort.

"Exactly," Luna replied with a nod.

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

Wizarding Luna gasped. "You're right! We can't do this by ourselves!"

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

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

Absolute power corrupts absolutely.

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

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

*****​

Kremlin, Moscow, Russia, February 1st, 2006

"Can you see it?"

"Yes. There's a red cable on the outside."

"Yes. Can you tap it?"

"Of course. I just need to reach it."

"Alright. I'll widen the hole."

"Good. But not too wide - we don't want the thermal sensor picking up our body heat."

"Of course not. Bubble-Head Charm still good?"

"Yes."

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

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

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

"They'll be OK," he heard Hermione say before he felt her grab his hand.

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

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

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

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

What? Ron blinked.

"Let me see!"

"Here."

"Oh, right. That's a charge, yes," Luna said. "Can you deal with it?"

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

"Oh, nice!"

"Don't eat it, though."

"I'm not planning to. Alright… let me set up the bypass and splice this…"

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

"Alright, we're done!" Luna announced. "You can widen the hole now, Luna."

"Evanesco!"

Finally!

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

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

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

*****​

"OK! Drag the line over here!"

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

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

He did so.

"How's the computer doing?" she asked without looking up from her work.

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

"They're working on it."

"OK!"

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

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

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

"Is something wrong?"

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

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

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

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

"We?" Ron asked.

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

"Jump-type," wizarding Luna added with a grin.

"Ah." He nodded.

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

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

*****

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

"A...N...D," Luna said.

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

"X"!

Ron jumped on the next key.

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

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

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

*****​

"We just have to wait," she heard Ron say. "Sooner or later, he'll come home."

"And we're ready for them," Harry added.

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

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

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

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

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

And neither was Smith.

*****​

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 55: The President

Kremlin, Moscow, Russia, February 1st, 2006

"Hey!" Ron touched Hermione's shoulder. "Everything OK?"

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

"Oh?"

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

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

Eloquent, Ron thought.

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

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

"Well, that's one theory," Hermione said.

The wizard grinned. "It's the truth - we checked with the survivors afterwards, you know." He shrugged.

"And what happened to Smith?" Hermione asked.

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

"I know that."

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

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

"Clearing them out was a real mess."

Hermione nodded curtly.

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

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

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

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

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

"Not quite that soon."

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

"You said you had a way," Hermione reminded her.

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

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

"Harry and I could float down," his counterpart offered. "Levitate our clothes. We've done it before."

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

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

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

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

*****​

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

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

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

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

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

*****​

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

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

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

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

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

*****​

"You should've let Ginny do it."

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

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

"Did the other Ron do the same?"

"I don't recall a specific occasion on which he did, but he probably would have."

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

"Luna's already hacking into the second security system, but it'll take a while."

"I know."

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

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

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

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

"Ginny can cook," Ron pointed out. "She just doesn't want to."

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

"As long as it's not Sirius, we should be fine," Ron said.

"I've still got MREs." She was smirking, so she was probably joking. Probably.

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

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

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

*****​

Kremlin, Moscow, Russia, February 2nd, 2006

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Kind of like a bank robber's problem," Harry added.

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

"And it would most certainly trigger an alert in the sections of the bunker not covered by this 'ward'," Dumbledore pointed out.

"Oh."

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

Hermione gasped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That can't be helped," wizarding Harry replied. "We'll have to take that risk."

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

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

"Harry and I," Ron told him. "We've got experience with stun guns."

No one objected.

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

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

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

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

*****​

Kremlin, Moscow, Russia, February 3rd, 2006

"The guards have been changed," Luna reported. "Putin's still in the office."

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

"A good idea," Dumbledore agreed.

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

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

Everyone was masked as well.

"Alright. Target check," Harry said.

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

"Right back corner guard," wizarding Ron added.

"Right front corner guard," Ron and Harry said together.

"Left front corner guard." Hermione was obviously tense.

"Putin," Wizarding Harry reported.

"Good." Harry nodded. "Everyone ready?"

"Ready," Ron replied.

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

"Go!" Harry snapped.

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

"Finite Incantatem! Finite Incantatem!"

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

"Ready!" she announced.

"Ready." "Ready." "Ready."

"Go!" Harry snapped again.

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

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

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

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

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

"Going in," wizarding Harry snapped. "We've got shields."

Ron still took cover.

"My bloody leg," Harry said behind him. "I'm bleeding!"

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

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

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

"Ron?"

"I got shot in the back," he pressed out. "Doesn't feel like it went through the vest."

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

Damn. "Plan B," Ron said.

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

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

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

"Hurry!" Hermione snapped. "Even with the charm, they won't wait forever."

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

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

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

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

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

*****​

"Putin's secured," Ron said, stepping back from the metal chair.

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

"Rennervate!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm a witch, Mr Putin." She smiled. "And you're not prepared for magic."

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

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

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

"Special passphrases," Putin droned.

"Who in the Kremlin knows them?" Ron pressed on.

"Ilija Petrovic and Grigory Drugov."

"Who are they?"

"My bodyguards."

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

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

Putin did.

Ron tried to remember them, mumbling under breath. "Repeat."

Putin did again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The officer reached Dumbledore and saluted.

Dumbledore nodded in return, barking something in Russian.

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

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

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

That had been close.

*****​

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

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

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

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

"No."

"What about Kirikov?"

"Dead."

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

"Still ordering everyone around," Ginny replied from where she was keeping watch on Putin's office.

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

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

And hope that nothing else went wrong.

*****​

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

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

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

"Hm?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I trust Albus. He's got experience with this."

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

What the hell had Dumbledore done to earn that?

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

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

"You can talk to him, though."

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

"And you don't like that."

"I don't," he confirmed. Of course not. But he hated most that he couldn't do much. Couldn't do enough.

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

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

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

Especially not one where they already existed.

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

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

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

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

"Oh! Albus is moving."

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

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

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

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

"Where's Dumbledore moving to?" Ginny asked.

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

"Or inform us in writing," wizarding Luna added.

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

"Yes. Let's move to the barn."

It was getting too dangerous to stay.

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

*****​

Outside Moscow, Russia, February 3rd, 2006

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

"Ron?"

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

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

"Good." One down, six to go.

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

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

"Yes. Or one of them."

"We'll just have to wait until they arrive at their destination," Ron said.

"I know."

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

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

"Me too. Luna loves it, though. Both Lunas."

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

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

*****​

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

They were safe here.

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

How much longer before they had to move out again?

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

*****​

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 56: The Subordinates

Outside Moscow, Russia, February 3rd, 2006

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

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

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

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

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

"Wow - just like Gringotts!" Ron's counterpart exclaimed. "Are they the muggle counterparts of the goblins?"

Ron laughed. "They usually call them 'gnomes'."

"Oh! So it is true!"

Hermione glared at him. "No, Ron's pulling your leg."

"Oh."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Of course." Luna nodded with a confident expression. "After the Kremlin's security, I know their tricks."

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

"What if they do notice you arriving?" Sirius asked.

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

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

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

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

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

*****​

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hermione sighed. "With six guards to take out, we'll have to split them up."

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

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

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

"And start a war," she replied in a flat voice.

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

"Let's avoid making things worse," she said.

"I've got it!" Luna announced. "Everything is ours!"

*****​

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

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

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

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

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

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

*****​

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Incarcerous."

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

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

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

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

"Magic," Dumbledore said, tilting his head. "A very powerful tool, wouldn't you agree?"

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

"Magic." Dumbledore nodded.

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

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

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

*****​

Outskirts of Moscow, Russia, February 3rd, 2006

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

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

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

"Those poor dears!" wizarding Luna exclaimed. "We'll have to save them!"

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

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

Oh no. "But we're on a mission… we don't have the time to…"

"Then we'll need to hurry!"

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

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

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

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

"That would be a good distraction!"

"They'd shoot them."

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

She wasn't wrong, but… "We won't need a distraction if no one notices us."

"But we have all of Fred and George's inventions to use!"

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

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

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

"Good. Now let's replace them with fake ones! And then we save Brian and Theo!"

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

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

"We'll be gone before they arrive!"

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

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

He blinked. It was a cardboard box…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Brian and Theo?" Hermione asked.

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

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

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

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

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

Ron nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Luna!" Hermione whispered, "This is not a zoo!"

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

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

No, they couldn't, Ron silently agreed. "Once the cardboard box is gone."

"Of course."

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

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

*****​

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

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

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

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

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

*****​

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

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

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

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

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

"Ah." She nodded. "That makes sense. But it can't be helped. And, overall, it won't change much."

He shrugged. She was correct, but Luna would still be angry about it. "She's still pouting about you not 'adjusting' Putin's mind."

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

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

"It wouldn't have been worth the risk," she said with a frown.

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

"It's not their natural habitat."

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

Hermione's eyes widened, and she stood up. "Dear Lord, she would! I'll talk to her!"

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

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

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

They spent the next few minutes in comfortable silence.

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

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

"Us?" Ron didn't quite stare at them.

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

"...is Sirius." Ron sighed. "Right. But why can't you watch them?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So where are you going?"

"The Zoo!" Luna said. "Luna's never been there, can you imagine?"

"Have fun;" Ron told them with a smile. "Don't steal the animals, though."

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

Great.

"So… we're animal-sitters," he said, as nonchalantly as he could.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"We're lucky that the Cold War is over, then."

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

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

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

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

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

"I don't think so. Let's see what kind of meat Sirius has in the freezer."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Once the meat's thawed."

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

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

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

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

"No. Most wizards use spells to keep food fresh."

"Ah." That made sense. Sort of.

"And there's the Warming Charm if you need to thaw something."

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

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

Both animals shredded the meat quite messily. "I don't think that they were fed," Ron commented.

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

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

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

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

"He's in his best years for a half-Kneazle."

"Ah."

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

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

"I won't either," Hermione replied before finishing her tea.

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

"So?"

"Now everyone else is busy..." he said.

"Sirius isn't busy."

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

She grinned back at him. "Ah. That's what you're thinking of."

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

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

He nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh, no," Hermione gasped.

Ron closed his eyes and sighed through clenched teeth.

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

*****​

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

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

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

"Yes," Ron confirmed.

"Technical difficulties?" Harry joked.

"No," Ron replied, "they're just lazy and late."

"Good for us," she said. "If they aren't as alert as… there!"

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

"I'll take the one in the bow," Ron said.

"I'll take the middle one," Harry added.

Which left the one at the stern for her. "I'll take the one at the back."

"Let's do it!" Harry said.

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

*****​

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 57: The Interception

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

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

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

"More 'delicate' than kidnapping the Russian president?" Ron asked.

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

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

"You mean to be tortured," Hermione added.

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

"But we can't let Putin interrogate Ivanovich!" Hermione protested. "It would undo all our efforts."

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

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

"What?" wizarding Ron asked. "What would he do?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And you'd offer him sanctuary in exchange of information?" Ron asked.

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

"No, I guess not," Ron agreed.

"Yes. I'd rather not have to deal with more spies," Hermione added.

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

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

"They wouldn't suspect a thing," Ron's counterpart protested.

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

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

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

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

"But infiltrating an aeroplane would be even more difficult, wouldn't it?" Ron's counterpart said.

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

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

"I'll fetch Sirius," Hermione said.

"I'll call Miss and Miss Lovegood," Dumbledore added, pulling out a mobile phone from his jacket.

*****​

Ron knocked three times on Harry's door, then called out: "Harry? Ginny? It's me, Ron!"

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

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

"We've got a situation. Come to the living room," he told them.

"That will take…"

"How urgent is it?" Harry asked, interrupting Ginny. That wouldn't improve her mood.

"Very urgent," Ron replied. "See you there."

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

"They're coming," he announced.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ron heard Hermione groan next to him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But…" Hermione bit her lower lip.

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

"He'd launch nukes. No, he'd have a nuke or three delivered by 'Islamist terrorists'," Sirius said.

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

"I'll prepare the devices," Hermione said.

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

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

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

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

But it was a mission for wizards and witches.

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

But… "So we'll be moving to Germany?" Ron asked,

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

"We're going to impersonate paramedics?" Harry asked.

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

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

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

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

*****​

Heathrow, London, Britain, February 4th, 2006

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

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

"Oh! We should fly in one!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*****​

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*****​

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

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

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

"There!" Ginny declared. "You now look like a Spaniard."

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

"It'll look good enough on camera," she retorted. "Besides, it matches the fake moustache."

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

"Thanks," Ron told her, deadpan.

"Hey! I did all the work," Ginny objected.

He turned to her "Thanks," he repeated himself.

"Hey!"

"Now please do my makeup." Hermione stepped forward.

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

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

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

"Yes," Hermione confirmed, "Why?"

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

Ginny sniffed. "My fans loved it!"

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

"Oh."

"Yes, 'oh'. That was Harry's reaction as well, I think."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm almost at the truck!" Sirius said over the radio. "And I'm keeping this bike!"

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

"It wouldn't be the same. We're bonding here."

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

"The airport's called for two ambulances," Luna said.

"They won't risk handing over Mr Ivanovich to the German authorities," Dumbledore replied over the radio. "But they might use the pilots and cabin crew as distractions."

"We only need Ivanovich," Hermione reminded them. "Keep an eye on where he goes."

"Or where he is dragged to." Ron grinned on the way to the garage.

"Two limousines just left the embassy," wizarding Ron cut in. "I'm following them."

"The plane's five minutes out. They've got the fire brigade on stand by." Luna sounded almost like an announcer. "Oh! There's also the press! Yay!" Or not.

"Oh, goodie!" That was wizarding Luna chiming in. "Think I can join them? I've got my press pass from The Quibbler as credentials!"

"I think it's a little too late to change our plan, Luna."

"Aw."

Ron was shaking his head when they entered the private garage, and Ginny brought the SUV to a stop near the waiting ambulance.

Showtime.

*****​

Berlin, Germany, February 4th, 2006

"They've touched down…. Looks like… yes, they're braking," wizarding Harry reported.

That meant that the Skiving Snackboxes hadn't impaired the pilots to the point of making them crash the plane. Ron nodded, relieved.

"The ambulances are approaching the jet - and some police officers," the wizard went on. "And some… soldiers?"

Soldiers? "Perhaps they're afraid of a biological weapon?" Ron speculated. "An entire crew getting sick… that must be suspicious."

"I would hope that the German government would be suspicious of the Russians," Dumbledore said, "but their track record suggests otherwise, unfortunately. Let me check the camera feed… ah. Those are technically soldiers, but I think it would be more appropriate to classify them as special police forces."

"The GSG9?" Ron asked.

"I cannot confirm their unit from this distance, alas. But it would behove us to assume that they are. Though their presence is likely a coincidence."

It was a good thing they hadn't planned to make a move against the plane on the tarmac. Ron didn't want to tangle with the Grenzschutzgruppe - they'd earned their fame for foiling the Mogadishu hijacking, after all.

"Any sign of Ivanovich?" Harry asked.

"Nothing," his counterpart replied.

"They won't move him until the embassy's limousines have arrived," Ron said. "Where are they?"

"Stuck in traffic," wizarding Ron reported. "They'll take some more time."

"The journalists are reporting the incident," Luna said. "Check the local news."

Ron would, if he spoke German - since the fake ambulance wasn't equipped with a TV, the only media available would be the radio, which would be in German. "Just fill us in."

"Oh. They're just saying what Harry's already told us."

"The pilots are leaving the plane - and entering the ambulances." Wizarding Harry sounded excited. "How much longer for the limousines?"

"They've just about reached the airport," Ron's counterpart replied. "But the police have stopped them."

"I have no doubt that their diplomatic immunity will prevail," Dumbledore said, "but our operation may be a little delayed."

A little more time to set things up wouldn't go amiss, in Ron's opinion. Stressed people made more mistakes, so he'd prefer it if the Russians were the ones being stressed.

Ten minutes later, the limousines approached the plane - apparently, the ambassador himself had intervened. On Putin's direct orders, no doubt.

"Mr Potter, do you have eyes on Mr Ivanovich?"

"The cabin crew is carrying two people out - but both have their heads covered. I can buzz them and make it look like a gust of wind."

"I would advise against that," Dumbledore retorted. "Can you identify one or the other?"

"Cast a diagnosis spell and see which of the two is sedated," Hermione interjected.

"Good idea!"

A minute later, wizarding Harry reported. "Alright, I stuck the thing you gave me to the car with Ivanovich inside - just as he vomited on to the back bench."

"Ew!" Luna said. "But I'm tracking the car now. And here are the possible routes."

"Thank you. Just tell me which car to ram," Sirius chimed in.

"It's the one in the back."

"But check before you ram it," Hermione added.

"Yes, yes." Sirius sounded annoyed - and under pressure. "I have done this before, you know."

"By accident," Harry told him with a chuckle.

His godfather scoffed. "Just you watch!"

"They've left the airport now. Ivanovich is still in the second car." Ron's counterpart reported.

"I'm in position," Sirius said.

"Uh… they've changed routes." Luna said. "They're… going down another street. You need to move! Sending you the new data!"

"Bloody Russians!" Sirius cursed.

Meanwhile, Ginny had entered the steady stream of traffic with the fake ambulance and was circling the block. Ron tried to track Sirius's progress on his phone, but it wasn't fast enough.

"I'm almost at the new position!"

"They've changed courses again."

"Again? I'm going to crush one of the cars beneath this truck!"

"No, you won't!" Hermione cut in. "Just ram the cars."

"We're getting the device out of the plane now," wizarding Harry said. "Before the other Russians or the police enter."

"The police shouldn't be entering the plane," Luna told him. "It's flagged as a diplomatic vessel."

"I sure hope so," wizarding Harry replied.

Ron gritted his teeth.

"Almost there… I see them!" Sirius announced. "Now they shall reap what they have sowed!"

"No change at the plane," Luna said - cool as a cucumber, or so it seemed.

"We've retrieved the device."

Then the sound of shrieking metal, screams and an air horn filled their radio channel.

Sirius had driven the truck into the Russian cars.

And Ginny accelerated as if the ambulance were a sports car. Which it definitely wasn't. But she did her best - or worst - to make it seem that way, taking the next turn at far too high a speed even before she remembered to switch on the siren and warning lights.

They ran a red light across a junction, and a Mercedes slammed on its brakes but still had to steer to the side, ramming a parked BMW. Fortunately, the sirens drowned out the car theft alert.

"Ginny!" Ron snapped. "Try not to get us into an accident on the way to the accident!"

"We need to be there before the cops are!"

"We need to get there, period!"

"I know what I'm doing! Who drove our getaway car in Kosovo?"

"I was shrunken at the time!" Ron retorted, holding on to the roll bar. "And you managed to get Hermione and me thrown out of the car!"

"That was your own fault!"

"Focus on the mission," Hermione snapped.

They were almost at the accident site, anyway. Just two more hair-raising turns that made Ron wonder if Ginny shouldn't have become a racing driver. Or if she wore a white suit and helmet on TV.

Then they were slowing down, stopping in front of an impressive display of wrecked cars and torn metal. Sirius had managed to catch the two limousines as planned - when they were waiting at a red light - and rammed the leading car with so much force that it ended up impaled from below by a pillar blocking the pavement before crushing the front of the second car as if it were made out of tin foil.

A crowd already surrounded the wreckage, but Ron couldn't spot any police yet. They wouldn't be long, though. He burst out of the ambulance, one hand pulling the stretcher behind him, and yelled: "Platz da! Platz da!"

The crowd parted for him at once, and he rushed towards the second car, which should be carrying Ivanovich. The passenger compartment looked alright - mostly; the driver's had its door caved in by a sturdy flower pot that had been placed on the pavement - but if the Russians hadn't secured Ivanovich with a seatbelt…

He pulled on the car's door, but it was stuck. Harry was already trying the other side, with the same result. Well, there was an alternative. Ron pulled out a small hammer and struck the door window.

It didn't do much - armoured glass, he realised with a muttered curse. Well, they had come prepared for that. He stashed the hammer and pulled out a much bigger, and much more colourful, one. Smashing Smasher wasn't the most original or funny name, but it did describe what the thing did perfectly. It took only one blow for the window to crumble to countless small fragments.

And Ron found himself staring down the barrel of a gun. "Diplomatenfahrzeug," the Russian announced with a heavy accent. "Geh weg!"

Ron wasn't about to go away. "Ambulanz!" he retorted.

"Geh weg!"

Then Harry smashed the window on the other side. The Russian turned his head, distracted, and Ron grabbed his gun, pointing the muzzle away from him and used it to smash the man's hand into the remains of the window until the Russian dropped the gun. Then Ron dropped him by grabbing his head and smashing it against the door as well.

The sight of the gun on the ground sent the crowd back. Judging by the growing volume of the murmurs, they were speculating about the Russian mob.

"Hey!" Ron heard, followed by a string of angry Russian from the other car - Russian reinforcements were on the way. And they had their guns drawn. Ron saw three men charging towards him and Harry.

That was too much for the crowd. Panicking, most of them ran away, screaming.

"Hilfe!"

"Die sind bewaffnet!"

"Polizei!"

Ron whirled, drawing as he turned and dropping to one knee. His own gun was pointed at the leading Russian before the man could bring his own to bear, and Ron shot him twice in the chest.

The Russian stumbled back - bulletproof vest. Ron's next shot hit him in the chin, and he collapsed with a wrecked throat.

On the other side of the car, Harry was shooting as well, but he had a worse angle and the Russian dived for cover.

Then Sirius opened up with a Kalashnikov from the truck's cabin - behind them.

"The police are on the way!" Luna alerted them.

"Get Ivanovich!" Hermione snapped through the radio.

Ron was already moving to the other side to help Harry drag Ivanovich out. The man was sedated, and dragging a limp man was always a pain.

But together they pulled him through the broken window and back to the ambulance. Sirius was already there.

"Hit it!" Ron yelled as he jumped in after Harry and Ivanovich and closed the doors.

Ginny made the tyres squeal before they shot away.

"So much for delicate and discreet," Ron muttered as he grabbed the stretcher to keep himself from being thrown around by his sister's driving.

Sirius, who had wedged himself between the bench and the wall, laughed. "Sometimes, you just have to shoot your way in and out."

"Luna?" he heard Harry over the radio. "What're the police doing?"

"They're still reacting to the shooting," she replied.

Good. "How's Ivanovich?" Ron asked.

Hermione, who had been casting spells while steadying herself with a hand on the bar mounted in the ceiling to hang infusions from, replied: "He's sedated and will have bruises, but otherwise unharmed."

He'd been lucky, then. Or not, depending on what Dumbledore had planned for the Russian.

"We're almost at the garage!" Ginny yelled.

Good. Ron ran a scanner over Ivanovich's body. "No locator beacon as far as I can tell," he announced.

"The police are looking for an ambulance, now," Luna reported. "And they've upgraded us to terrorists."

At least they had been prepared for that. If discretion failed, misdirection replaced it, as Dumbledore had said. Once the Germans found the material Sirius had left in the truck, and once they tracked the weapons, the Germans would be looking for Chechen terrorists. Putin would know differently, of course, but the public would blame the Chechens.

He looked out of the tinted rear windows. People were staring as the ambulance turned and entered the small garage. "We'll be made in a minute, tops," he told the others as the doors closed behind them.

"We won't need more than that," Hermione replied. "Sirius!" She grabbed for the older man's hand, placed her other hand on the sedated Ivanovich and disapparated.

"Alright, let's get out and sanitise the ambulance," Harry said.

Ron chuckled at the unintended pun as he left the ambulance and grabbed a white phosphorus grenade. A Russian model, of course. Kidnapping, and now arson - he was racking up the felonies. Interfering with a criminal investigation, too.

Hermione reappeared and grabbed Ginny and Harry. "I'll be back!"

Ron nodded, but she had already disappeared. He fired a few shots into the fuel tank of the vehicle. Looking out the small window in the door, he saw that the people on the street were running away. The police would be here soon, then. Not soon enough, though.

He readied the grenade as fuel started to leak.

Hermione reappeared again. "Ron!"

He nodded at her, pulled the pin of the grenade and lobbed it into the ambulance.

Hermione took him away by Side-Along-Apparition before the grenade went off.

*****​

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

They reappeared in the hangar where their plane was parked, and Ron managed not to stumble or show any other kind of reaction to the magical travel. He looked round. "Are we…?"

"The hangar's protected by a Muggle-Repelling Charm," Hermione told him. "Harry and Ron are on their way to Dumbledore and Grindelwald's villa, and will come back to fetch us as soon as they reach it."

"All according to plan, then," Ron replied.

"Apart from shooting it out with the Russians in a German street during rush hour," Hermione said, "everything went according to plan, yes."

Ron chuckled. "No one got hurt - well, none of us."

She frowned. "I could have stunned them."

"And tipped off Putin that we've got magic? Or really advanced technology?" Harry, who approached them with Ginny, shook his head.

Ron nodded. "And we couldn't really shoot to wound. Not against special agents." Who had also been wearing body armour.

"Who cares about a few dead KGB goons?" Sirius shrugged. "I bet Ivanovich wasn't the first man they'd kidnapped."

Hermione didn't look like she agreed, but she didn't contradict him.

Before anyone else could comment, the Lunas arrived, smiling. "They've already found the ambulance and are now locking down the entire area! We'll have a perfect alibi!" Luna announced. "And we get to see how the German government reacts to potential terrorist attacks."

"And what would we do with that knowledge?" Ron asked.

"It's knowledge for knowledge's sake. Unless the German government turns fascist and we have to fight it."

"Wouldn't they change procedures in that case?" Hermione asked.

"Institutional inertia is a thing. Especially in Germany. Or so I've been told," Luna retorted.

"Ah."

Fortunately, wizarding Harry and wizarding Ron reappeared in the hangar, apparently having reached the villa - or the safe house - already. They took the Lunas, Hermione and Ginny with them.

Half a minute later, the witches and wizards returned to end the spell on the hangar and ferry Ron and the others, as well as Ivanovich, to Dumbledore's villa.

*****​

Villa Sonnenschein, Outskirts of Berlin, Germany, February 4th, 2006

"Rest assured, the villa's not connected to the Phoenix Gruppe or Gellert and myself in any way. We're perfectly safe here," Dumbledore said as he took a glass of whiskey and a seat in a large yet still cosy living room.

"Good to know," Harry said. "Putin must be spitting nails. He might retaliate against your group."

"Oh, he has to retaliate - the Russian public will demand it," Dumbledore replied. "But with the 'evidence' we left, they will focus on the Chechens. And that means Putin will have to move against them to show the Russians that any attack on them will be avenged."

"So the Chechen will suffer for our mistakes," Harry said.

"The Chechen terrorists will," Dumbledore replied. "No great loss. With a little luck, they'll keep Putin's forces too busy to bother us."

"Russian counter-terrorism doesn't strike me as caring much about civilian victims," Hermione said with a frown.

"With Germany affected, the eyes of the world will linger for some time on Chechenia. That should curb the Russians' more indiscriminately violent responses." The old spymaster smiled.

But would it curb them enough? Ron had his doubts. "What about Ivanovich?" he asked.

"He should regain consciousness soon," Dumbledore replied. "And then we can debrief him properly."

"What if Putin blames us for the attack?" Harry asked.

"He can't do that without drawing attention to his own attacks on us. And he will be worried about what Mr Ivanovich will have told us and done for us, since he, obviously, was a spy rescued by his backers." Dumbledore grinned. "I have a feeling that Mr Ivanovich would be cooperative since he will now be considered a traitor regardless. Not that we have the time to wait for his cooperation. However, despite anything he might do in the future, Putin will never trust him again."

So the old spymaster had managed to acquire a Russian turncoat. He might even have planned for this outcome. "And after he's told us everything he knows?" Ron asked.

"That depends on what he's done so far," Dumbledore replied.

Or, Ron thought with more than a little cynicism, whatever would further Dumbledore's plans better. He didn't think the Russian would survive for long, though.

Which was a stark reminder that, for all his jovial smiles, Dumbledore wasn't the harmless old man he liked to portray himself as.

He glanced at Hermione, but she was looking at the books on the shelves behind Dumbledore.

*****​

The Headmaster had a lot of books. A lot. She tried not to be obvious as she looked round and tried to read the words on the books' spines - tilting her head would give the game away - but she so longed to read then. All of them. That one in the corner was a guide to Alchemy! And this one looked like a first edition of 'Hogwarts: A History'!

"Have you already finished with the school library, Miss Granger?"

"What?" She gasped. Of course the Headmaster would notice - he was Dumbledore! "I'm sorry, sir, but the books are… fascinating," she managed to blurt out.

He smiled gently. "Books generally are fascinating. They open new worlds to us, provided we are daring enough to brave them."

What did that mean? Did he think she was too timid? The Hat had chosen her for Gryffindor, which meant she was brave! "Sir?"

"Not that that would be a flaw of yours, Miss Granger. Quite the contrary, in fact." His smile didn't change, but her heart sank into her stomach.

Oh. It looked like last night they hadn't been as sneaky as they had thought they were. But it had been necessary - Hagrid couldn't have kept a dragon in a wooden hut. But now they were caught, and it was time to pay. She grimaced. "I need a lawyer, I think." A good one. Breaking the law against dragon breeding was much, much more serious than breaking curfew!

"Oh, no, Miss Granger - we are merely talking about hypotheticals here. Although should you have suffered a bite as well, please visit the Infirmary before your wound gets as bad as Mr Weasley's."

"Hypothetical?" She blinked.

"I am quite sure that you and your friends didn't smuggle a dragon into and out of Hogwarts."

Oh. He knew everything. "Sir, it was all my idea!" That would protect Harry and Ron. "From start to finish."

He held up a hand. "I am familiar with the circumstances, and I approve of your friends' initiative. You might have picked a better location for the drop, and more planning would not have gone amiss either, but I cannot fault you for having the courage to do what is right instead of what is easy. Too few people, of all ages, have that kind of courage."

Oh. He was… supporting their actions.

Hermione blinked. That would explain a lot…

*****​

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 58: The Interrogation

Villa Sonnenschein, Outskirts of Berlin, Germany, February 4th, 2006

Hermione shook her head, blinking for a moment, before she turned to Dumbledore. "Sorry, sir," she said, "I was distracted by your library."

"By its lack of certain subjects, I presume?" Dumbledore replied, smiling. "It wouldn't be a very good safe house if a single glance at the library would reveal that its owners have a profound and professional interest in spycraft."

"Does that mean you have a second, secret library?" Hermione asked, and Ron was almost sure that her eyes lit up at the thought.

The old spymaster chuckled. "In a manner of speaking - it's all digital, though."

"Oh." Hermione didn't quite crumble, but her enthusiasm waned almost as quickly as it had appeared.

Dumbledore inclined his head. "As much as I love handling actual books, like any true bibliophile, digital editions simply have too many advantages when you're a frequent traveller."

"And they can be replaced far more easily," she admitted.

"Provided you have made backups," Ron pointed out - mostly to take part in the conversation, if he was honest. He wasn't a bookworm, but he was the most avid reader in his family. And Harry's.

"That goes without saying," Dumbledore agreed. "No one should neglect proper electronic security."

"Too many do, though," Luna cut in. "Which is a good thing when those who do are people of interest."

"Indeed. The proliferation of electronic data storage has opened a number of possibilities in my old profession."

"Your old and current profession," Ron corrected him.

"Quite, although I see myself more as an interested private citizen these days. An amateur, so to speak."

"I don't think that the current administration would agree with that assessment," Sirius commented.

Dumbledore's smile became a more sly grin. "They would be mistaken. Technically, of course."

"Speaking of mistakes," Sirius said, "how will MI5 and MI6 react to this incident? In your opinion, of course." Ron had to suppress a grin at Sirius's sarcastic tone - he wasn't the only one who was a little tired of Dumbledore's way with words.

The old man nodded, acknowledging the point. "Privately, I like to believe that they are pleased with what they will see as retaliation for Putin's attack on Britain. They will also be a little envious, of course, that they hadn't been the ones to pull this off."

"Envious enough to move against us?" Harry asked.

"They will attempt to increase the pressure and surveillance, but, thanks to the outcome of our mission, I am optimistic that I can counter such efforts with the offer to share the intel our turncoat will give us."

"The government won't be happy, though," Sirius pointed out.

"Plausible deniability is a two-edged sword, of course. But the unwritten rules of my old and current business are quite clear in that the only thing that matters is success. And, even though we weren't as discreet as we had planned, we succeeded today."

"We also created a lot of trouble for Germany and Britain," Sirius retorted.

"Not as much as we created for President Putin," Dumbledore replied.

"But won't he come after us even more determinedly?" Hermione asked.

"I think he won't, provided we prepare Mr Ivanovich's memory accordingly."

So the guy would be sacrificed.

Dumbledore showed his teeth. "Thanks to his position in the Russian embassy in London, Mr Ivanovich was perfectly placed to manipulate both the British and the Russians in order to rise to the top himself. He even managed to convince us poor saps that we should rescue him if things went wrong... only to promptly escape before we discovered the truth about his plans."

"And Putin will believe that?" Harry didn't sound as if he was convinced.

"He will already suspect a traitor. His paranoia will prompt him to accept the story, once he has additional evidence and the traitor in custody." Dumbledore spread his hands. "It will also save some face, so to speak, if one of his own men and not a retired British spy was the mastermind behind the entire affair."

"Ah." Sirius nodded. "But if the news spreads, then your former colleagues will think that you were manipulated and deceived as well."

"Some will, no doubt. Others? They know me too well not to at least doubt such a story." Dumbledore chuckled. "Not that it matters either way - I'm under no illusion that my sterling record and long career grants me any influence with the current administration, so whether they consider me a mastermind or a gullible old fool won't matter. Money talks, as the saying goes, and old favours and secrets work as well - or better - in our business."

"And in Germany as well?"

"As well or better - there were a lot of secrets to keep, after the war."

Blackmailing Nazis for leverage… Well, no one ever said that the spy business was a nice business. "So, how long will we stay here?"

"Not long at all. Although having Mr Ivanovich escape in Germany would be best, I think. After his interrogation, of course," Dumbledore replied. "However, it might take a while until he wakes up. The Russians didn't skimp on the sedatives when they dosed him."

"That sounds a little careless," Ron said.

"I'm sure President Putin sent experts in their field to prepare our guest for transport."

Hermione frowned. "We could travel back right now and return here afterwards. We should be able to reach the location in Finland we used to travel to and from Russia by Apparition."

And from there, they knew the route back.

"I would prefer to stay here, though," Dumbledore said. "If we were observed in Britain, President Putin might suspect that we have the means to travel without being detected, and much faster than by plane." He spread his hands. "It's not as if we're in any more danger here than in Britain."

That was true. Probably.

"We don't have anything to do other than wait, then." Sirius yawned. "Unless you overlooked some bug on or in Ivanovich."

"I scanned him," Ron said.

"And we did it again upon arriving here - quite thoroughly," Dumbledore added. "Nevertheless, I don't think we should trust our security system to the point of not keeping an eye out."

"I'll cast a few spells," Hermione said.

"We'll help!" Wizarding Harry smiled as he and wizarding Ron stood.

"Beats sitting around doing nothing," Ron's counterpart added.

They had done enough, Ron thought. Magic made so many things easier. Or easy. "I'll take a nap," he announced.

Hermione smiled at him, "I'll join you once I'm done."

"And we'll keep an eye on the Russian," Luna said. "Can't trust the tools of an authoritarian regime even when they've been betrayed by their leader and cut off. And sedated."

"Good." Dumbledore stood. "I think we should reconvene for dinner… say at six?"

"Who's going to cook?" Ron asked. He didn't think that Dumbledore would have a cook in the house, and ordering takeaway would be too dangerous.

"While I'm, by necessity, not a regular customer, I do know of several very good takeaways in Berlin," Dumbledore said. "It shouldn't raise any suspicion if one or two of those who can apparate go and fetch dinner, I think."

Ah. Well, that was true. Especially in disguise.

Ron nodded and left the living room, heading to the guest room assigned to Hermione and himself. He lay down on the bed and grabbed a magazine to read. Hermione wouldn't take long, after all.

She didn't. Fifteen minutes later - he was skimming an article on new developments in computer networks that was written from far too technical a perspective - she entered.

"All safe?" he asked.

She nodded and sat down on the bed. "We'll know if someone enters the property."

And they would. The best skills and technology in the world wouldn't defeat those spells. Although…

"Hm? What are you thinking?"

"I was planning how to defeat the spells. Would a drone be able to enter undetected?"

She blinked, then nodded. "Yes, it would. That needs to be remedied."

"I don't think that the Russians will deploy drones. They would have to find us in the first place. And that won't be easy with the entire German police force looking for suspicious armed people."

"That's true." She smiled, kicked off her shoes and lay down as well. "I guess the Russians' paranoia has rubbed off on me. Moody would be proud."

He snorted. "I'm not sure he'd be proud of what we're doing here." At her confused look, she added: "We're not acting like police officers. We're acting like spies. Or soldiers."

"Ah." She sighed. "I forgot that your Moody hadn't fought in two wars."

"He did hunt IRA terrorists in the 1970s," Ron pointed out. "And he hunted Riddle's cell in the 1980s."

"But those weren't wars. Not here, at least." She sighed again. "In Wizarding Britain, it was a war. The Aurors tried to treat it as a police action, first, in the seventies, when it started. But by the end of the decade, they were fighting a war. A dirty war. And when it started again in the nineties, the veterans went straight to war. We all did."

"Yes." He sounded lame, but there wasn't much else he could think of to say. So he reached over and pulled her into a hug.

They had a few hours for themselves, after all.

*****​

"Are you going to join the interrogation?" he asked later as he stared at the ceiling above their bed. "Once Ivanovich has woken up."

Pressed into his side, half on top of him, she sighed. "Are you?"

"I guess so." He was a trained interrogator, after all. He could be useful there, even with Veritaserum being used. Of course, Dumbledore had a few more decades on him where experience was concerned. But the old man wasn't infallible.

"I'll come as well, then."

He shrugged, half-heartedly so as not to dislodge her from his side. "It'll be more of the same, I guess. Corruption, abuse of power…".

"...murder and espionage?"

"Ivanovich might have been involved in the last attack on us," he pointed out. Ron was quite sure, actually - if Putin trusted the man enough to tell him about Hermione's research, then he would have been trusted enough to help attack the lab.

He felt her tense. "In a way, that would be a relief. I wouldn't have to feel bad about framing him and sending him to Putin, then."

"We aren't sending him to Putin," he told her. "Well, we aren't openly sending him. We want him to act naturally and to try and avoid the Russian snatchers."

She shuddered, and he felt a stab of guilt. "Sorry."

"It's not your fault."

But it was. He should've used a different word. Not one loaded with past grief. "In any case, we're not setting up innocent children for death, here."

"No, we aren't. But we are setting people up. Manipulating them and changing their memories." Hermione sighed again.

"They started it. Literally."

She didn't look convinced, though. "Well, we'll be done soon enough. And then our families will be safe."

"Yes." He nodded.

"At which point we can focus on fixing Azkaban and similar problems in Wizarding Britain."

"And on keeping the Lunas from turning this world upside-down?"

Hermione groaned in response. "Yes, that too. And the twins - both sets - also."

He winced. "I think I'd successfully repressed that until you reminded me."

She laughed at his weak joke. "Perhaps all of them will keep Dumbledore and Grindelwald too busy for any more of his schemes."

And pigs would fly. Wait, wizards probably had flying pigs. "They'll want to form their own wizarding group." Was that a coven? Or a cabal?

"I know." She sounded a bit angry. And frustrated. "And if we cut ties, they'll do it."

"They're the type to do it anyway," he pointed out, shifting so he could look at her.

She was frowning. "I know. Though if we don't cut ties - which would be difficult in any case - we should have some influence on whom they recruit."

"You're a bit of an optimist, aren't you?" He raised his eyebrows at her. "The closer you are, the more influence they'll have on you."

That earned him a glare. "Do you have a better plan?"

That was the crux of the matter. If they went their separate ways, Dumbledore and Grindelwald would likely use magic in various questionable ways - and would work on recreating the portal. If Hermione kept working with the old men, they'd have a huge amount of power due to his investment in the whole portal project. "No, I don't." Damned if they did, damned if they didn't. "But if you decide to keep working with them, milk them for everything they've got."

"It's not just my decision," she told him. "It's ours."

He smiled like an idiot upon hearing that. "Well, I think staying close to them is the better option." Less likely to get blindsided or treated as competition. Or enemies.

"Like having them provide the gold needed to abolish Azkaban?"

He suppressed a wince. That was a tricky question. "Unless you've got a plan to destroy the Dementors without anyone noticing, what are the alternatives?"

"I thought about opening a portal to a barren world and forcing them through it, but that isn't practical."

"In fantasy novels, banishing demons to another dimension never really works out. Unless they came from there."

"Fortunately, life isn't a fantasy novel." She sighed once more. "The problem is that as long as the Dementors are around, someone will think of using them - no matter how reprehensible and dangerous that is. Not that having private citizens paying for what should be a core task of the government is a good idea. But if we simply hand more money to the Ministry, then sooner or later, some short-sighted or corrupt politician will argue that the money being spent on a humane prison should instead be used to help victims, not criminals." She shook her head, her mane hitting the side of his face. "No, we must destroy the Dementors to settle this once and for all."

"Do you have a plan?"

"I'm working on it."

She didn't elaborate, which he took to mean that she didn't have a plan yet. But he was positive she would come up with one.

*****​

"Did you know about the Russian attack on Scotland beforehand?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes," Ivanovich replied in that potion-induced monotone.

"Did you help plan it?"

"Yes."

"Was that on President Putin's orders?"

"Yes."

"Were you planning another attack after this one?"

"Yes."

"On the same location?"

"No."

"What was the planned attack's objective?"

"Dr Granger."

Ron clenched his teeth. He had expected that, but to hear it confirmed… He glanced at Hermione, who was glaring at the Russian.

"Did you plan to kidnap her?" Dumbledore went on.

"Yes."

No surprise there.

"How did you plan to kidnap her?"

"By using hostages."

Again, no surprise.

"Was that your plan or President Putin's plan?"

"Mine."

"Who in Britain was involved in this plan?"

Ivanovich started to list names, both Russian and British. Ron didn't recognise any of them - except for a Detective Superintendent of the Met.

Dumbledore, though, shook his head, sighing. "It seems that the Russians have penetrated more of our government than I suspected. I knew that my successors were not as diligent as they should have been, the end of the Cold War notwithstanding, but this is worse than I had feared."

"On the other hand, you'll be able to do something about them," Ron said. "Turn some, use the others to feed Putin fake information…"

"Those ploys are far more effective when handled by a member of Her Majesty's Secret Service rather than by a retiree," the old man retorted. "Despite my great wealth and influence, I am still a civilian and not part of MI5 or MI6. I lack the knowledge of our operations necessary to use those assets to best effect. Officially and unofficially," he added. "And the amount of misinformation about Gellert, myself and the Phoenix Gruppe I could spread by using those traitors without tipping off President Putin to the fact that I have suborned his spies wouldn't be worth it."

Hermione shrugged. "But once again you'll be able to tweak the noses of your successors and detractors, won't you?"

The old man smiled. "Which will further antagonise them." With a chuckle, he added: "The price of success, I think. I can but hope that this will serve as a wake-up call. As God is my witness, we need one."

"I think this whole affair has already done that," Ron pointed out.

"You would think so, wouldn't you?" Dumbledore shook his head. "A few traitors in the police aren't nearly as shocking as traitors in the Civil Service - at least according to the government."

Ron hoped that the old man was joking but feared that he spoke the truth.

"That's very short-sighted," Hermione said. "If you control the police, you can control the Civil Service much more effectively."

"Indeed." Dumbledore nodded. "And with them, the budget. However, most ministers would prefer to skip the step of suborning the police and go straight to those who hold the purse strings."

Ron nodded in agreement. That certainly fit what he had heard from Dad and Percy - and older detectives in CI5. But… "Shouldn't we finish the interrogation?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "Yes, I think we should. I'm sure there's more information to be gained - much of it potentially devastating should it fall into the wrong hands."

Or the right hands, of course.

*****​

An hour later, Dumbledore had finished the interrogation. At a glance, Ron would say that Ivanovich's information would be enough to send two dozen people of influence to prison. If it were admissible in court, of course. Although if Dumbledore wanted, he could easily use the information from Ivanovich to find admissible proof of treason.

Ron wasn't holding his breath, though. Dumbledore was a spymaster, not a police officer.

"I trust any doubts about Mr Ivanovich deserving his planned fate have vanished."

And he was a little too smug sometimes.

Hermione, as expected, didn't like that. "He'll be tortured - which is not something anyone ever deserves - and likely killed."

"An unpleasant but necessary part of the plan, I assure you. I doubt that President Putin will be content with mere interrogation. And I don't believe that we will find a more fitting victim than Mr Ivanovich. However, I confess that I am more concerned about the potential risk of torture affecting your mental modifications than about Mr Ivanovich's fate."

"It's not as if we have many alternatives," Ron said. "Putin didn't exactly publish his information."

Hermione pressed her lips together before answering: "I will do my best to prepare for that eventuality and will keep the modifications to a minimum. Unless he suffers a complete mental breakdown, our families should be safe."

"I think so," Dumbledore told her. "If anything, President Putin should focus on myself and Gellert, should he, against expectations, come to distrust the information he will extract from Mr Ivanovich." The old man smiled. "And both of us are well prepared for that kind of attention."

Ron forced himself to smile even though he wanted to scowl. Now Hermione would feel obligated to the old man again. Dumbledore had probably planned for such an outcome.

*****​

Expendable Safe House, Outskirts of Berlin, Germany, February 4th, 2006

This house looked more like a safe house. Cheap furniture, pantry stocked with tins and other non-perishables - no MREs, though - and located in the sort of neighbourhood where you'd find very few surveillance cameras and where a bunch of new arrivals wouldn't attract too much attention. It would certainly help sell the story that Ivanovich was taken by Dumbledore's people and then managed to escape. On the other hand, any cop checking the house out would know at once it was a safe house. It lacked anything that would indicate that someone lived here, or had lived here.

Putin would believe that it was a safe house for spies. That there wouldn't be any trace of a car would only help to sell it - it couldn't be perfect, after all. A mystery or two would work well, especially with paranoid Russians.

He walked through the living room, past the door to the first bedroom. He didn't need or want to watch Hermione adjust the Russian's memories. Steps on the stairs made him tense for a moment before Harry appeared in the corridor.

"Upstairs is set;" his friend told him as he entered the room. "Won't fool a competent cop, though."

"It doesn't have to," Ron replied. "It just has to leave the right impression after the fire." After all, Dumbledore's hired men would try to avoid leaving traces, especially after Ivanovich escaped, and a fire was an effective way to ruin DNA traces.

"I know," Harry said, sitting down on the ugly couch. After a moment, he added: "If this works, what will you do?"

Ah. Ron shrugged as nonchalantly as he could. "That depends on what Hermione does."

His friend snorted, and Ron rolled his eyes. "And what will you be doing? Playing Ginny's bodyguard?" His sister would love that.

"What about our plan to become private detectives?"

That had just been a way to calm Mum and Dad - mostly Mum - hadn't it? A legal fiction. "Technically, guarding Hermione and Ginny would fit that job description."

"I'm not a fan of legal fictions," Harry said. "And working as a bodyguard for Hermione would mean working for Dumbledore."

"Only at the beginning," Ron retorted. Money shouldn't be a problem in the long run. Not with magic and a portal. Hell, just offering the same treatment Dumbledore and Grindelwald had received to a single billionaire would set her up for life.

"And then you'll work for her?"

He rolled his eyes at the question. "Why not?" Not everyone inherited a fortune. Or had a rich godfather. "People will think the same about you if you're officially Ginny's bodyguard." Harry might be rich, but Ginny was loaded. As much as she hated being reminded of it, she made more money with advertising than in tournaments - never mind that the prize money she did earn was great. "Gold digger!"

Harry laughed. "I can always claim to be independently wealthy."

Ron shrugged again, a little forcedly. "I bet Hermione's life will be more exciting than Ginny's, though."

"Full of magic, too." Harry looked at him.

Ron knew what his friend meant. "I can handle it." He didn't have magic, but he had other qualities. There was a reason Harry and Ron were preparing the safe house - a wizard wouldn't know how to do it. All the magic in the other world wouldn't help if you didn't know what to do.

"If you're sure."

"I am." He was. Mostly. He grinned. "Besides, I'll get to travel the multiverse!"

He saw Harry's eyes widen - had his friend truly not thought about the implications? If you could open a portal to a different world, you could open a portal to yet another world, couldn't you?

"That's… a good point." Harry smiled.

"Try telling Ginny that," Ron told him with a faint smirk. His sister liked adventure, but she liked being a celebrity as much or more. She wouldn't give up her career as a pro tennis player, Ron knew.

And judging by Harry's sigh, his friend knew it as well.

"It wouldn't be any different from when we were working for CI5 and she was on tour," Ron said with an encouraging smile.

"But she's looking forward to that changing," Harry replied. "'More time for us', she said."

"Ah." Well, Harry would have to stand his ground. Ron doubted that Ginny wouldn't take the chance to travel through a portal whenever she wasn't on tour. But he also knew that trying to meddle in her relationships wasn't a good idea. Even - or especially - when it involved his best friend.

*****​

About an hour later, Hermione entered the living room. Ron took one look at her tight expression and swallowed the comment he had been about to make. "Done?" he asked.

She glared at him for a moment, then sighed, "Yes, I'm done. He thinks he was kidnapped by masked mercenaries, woke up here and then fought his way free when they started to suspect that he was planning to betray them."

"He'll remember getting shot and escaping the house?" Harry asked.

"Not in great detail, but the 'getting shot' part should explain that."

Ron nodded. "Yes, shock can do that."

"Let's hope he doesn't die from it," she said with a frown.

"He won't," Harry told her. "It will just be a flesh wound."

"Complications could still arise during treatment. Or he could manage to avoid being found and bleed out in a hidden corner," Hermione pointed out.

"The chance for that is very low," Ron replied.

"It could happen, though."

"If that happens, Putin should still assume that Ivanovich was a traitor and was silenced by Dumbledore's men," Ron said. "It wouldn't be as watertight, though."

She sighed again. "I just want this to be over. We've already done far too much. If we were in my world…"

Ron shrugged. "Well, we aren't. And Putin started this." Technically, Putin's former colleague, the late Kirikov, had done so, but Putin had taken over and escalated things.

"Yes." She glared at him for a moment. "And even if he completely believes what we've made him remember, we'll still have to be careful and limit our overt association with Dumbledore."

That was a plus in Ron's book. "That'll be easy thanks to Apparition."

"It's still a potential danger. We'll have to keep being careful."

Ron shrugged again. "We already had to be cautious. Some of the criminals we've arrested would like to get back at us."

"Or the relatives and friends of those we shot," Harry added. "It's not as if you won't have to worry about Death Eater remnants, right?"

"Well, that's true," Hermione admitted. "Sort of." She sighed once more. "At least the Fidelius Charm, once I am able to cast it, will help with that."

"Could you use that to deal with Azkaban?" Ron asked.

"Too many know about the island for the charm to hide it - and even if it worked, the Dementors would still be around, and it wouldn't stop them from leaving," Hermione said. "You'd need wards to keep them confined to the island, but such spells don't exist, or we wouldn't need the Patronus Charm to defend against them."

"Or such spells haven't been invented yet," Ron said with a smile.

She smiled in return but shook her head. "Spellcrafting is a tricky and dangerous venture. Luna's mother died due to a failed experiment in spellcrafting. I'm not saying that it's impossible, but it would take a long time. And even if I invented such a spell, that wouldn't make the Ministry give up on Azkaban - in fact, they would probably think it makes using Azkaban safer since the Dementors wouldn't be able to escape or bother the guards in protected areas."

"It all comes down to money, then?" Ron asked.

"Gold, yes."

Ron sighed. "So, you'll either have to rely on Dumbledore and Grindelwald's wealth or make a lot of gold yourself."

"Essentially, yes." Hermione grimaced. "There are ways to make money using magic in this world, like providing magical healthcare, but helping a few rich people while not helping those who might genuinely need magical healthcare is morally questionable, in my opinion."

"That's what you did with Dumbledore and Grindelwald," Harry told her with raised eyebrows.

"I know," she snapped back. Then she took a deep breath. "Sorry. I know I did it. And I had to - but that doesn't mean it's OK to keep doing it. If we do that, what would stop Dumbledore from doing likewise? There's a lot of money to be made in saving or prolonging the lives of the rich."

"And a lot of influence to be gained. I'm sure Dumbledore and Grindelwald are already considering that," Ron said.

"I know," she spat through clenched teeth. "It's still wrong. It's unfair."

"Life's unfair," Harry said. "If you can use the money to do good and aren't hurting anyone - actively hurting anyone - why shouldn't you do it?"

Ron nodded. "A few rich people live a little longer - so what? The fortune they'd be willing to pay for that could help a lot more poor people. And if you start this with Dumbledore, you've got some control over it." Not much, but it was better than nothing.

"I thought you didn't like depending on Dumbledore so much," she replied.

"I don't. But I'm not about to hurt myself or my friends over it," he told her.

She slowly nodded. She wasn't convinced, but she would work through it, Ron was sure - he knew her, after all.

He grinned and changed the subject. "So, shall we tell Dumbledore that we're ready to shoot Ivanovich?"

"It's not funny," Hermione snapped.

But in a very black humour sort of way, it was.

*****​

"This looks like, as the colonials would say, shooting fish in a barrel," Dumbledore commented, looking down at the still stunned Ivanovich. "Not that I mind, mind you," he added. "In my old business, opportunities to shoot a Russian secret agent without having to fear for your own life were to be cherished. Or they should be."

"You want to do the deed, then?" Harry asked.

"I would never ask something of others I wouldn't be willing to do myself," the old man replied as he opened a box and pulled out a small machine pistol.

Dumbledore did seem very willing - but it could be an act, of course. On the other hand, why would he display himself as eager to hurt a defenceless man? As a warning? To underline his willingness to do whatever was needed to achieve his goals?

"The biceps of the left arm is where he'll remember getting shot. And the left shoulder," Hermione said. "From behind."

Dumbledore inclined his head in response. "Very well."

Hermione waved her wand, and Ivanovich floated upright, then slowly turned until he was facing away from them.

The old man drew a pistol - a Walther PPK, Ron noted - from a holster in his suit and screwed a silencer on. "If you'd do the honours?" he asked, nodding towards the machine pistol.

Harry grabbed the gun and put it in Ivanovich's hand, then fired a few bursts into the walls and ceiling - and the window in the room.

"That should alert the police," Ron commented.

"Indeed, it should," Dumbledore replied as Harry put the machine pistol's sling on Ivanovich.

Then the old spymaster took aim and shot the Russian in the shoulder and arm. "Time for his memorable exit, I believe."

Hermione didn't nod or acknowledge the order - she swished her wand, and the Russian flew through the broken window, landing in a heap on the ground outside. A flick of her wand later, Ivanovich suddenly screamed. He rolled over the lawn, got up and pressed his right hand on his bleeding arm as he stumbled towards the street.

Then he released his shoulder - and grabbed the machine pistol dangling at his side.

Hermione cast a shield moments before the bullets ripped through the jagged remains of the window's glass.

"Time to set fire to the house and vacate the location, I believe," Dumbledore said.

"I concur," Hermione agreed and grabbed his hand.

Ron pulled out a white phosphorous grenade while Harry opened the gas valves in the kitchen and spread some gasoline around.

By the time Hermione returned - looking none the worse for wear - they were back in the kitchen, away from any observers.

"Ready?" Ron asked.

"Yes." Hermione touched both of them.

"Fire in the hole!" Ron said, then lobbed the grenade into the hallway.

Then he felt as if he were being pushed through a narrow pipe as Hermione took him and Harry away from the house.

*****​

Black Lake, Scotland, February 5th, 2006

"...and German authorities have declined to comment on rumours that the attack on the Russian embassy vehicles was instigated by rogue Russian intelligence assets. However, a spokesman for the British government pointed out that Russia has been plagued by such rogue elements - as proven by the attack in Scotland last November by what the Russian government called 'criminal elements' but who Western investigators have identified as members of a Russian paramilitary unit. The German police have identified the wounded kidnapping victim as Pavel Ivanovich, military attaché in the Russian embassy in London, who had been forced to stop over in Berlin after a medical emergency."

Ron rolled his eyes at the news report. He already knew that - that was basically what the news had reported last night! At least the reporter wasn't standing in front of the smoking remains of Dumbledore's safe house this time. Oh, wait - there was the footage of the burning house.

"According to experts, the fire that destroyed the building where Mr Ivanovich was held was started deliberately, and it was only due to the quick response of the Berlin fire brigade that the neighbouring houses weren't set ablaze as well."

"Really?" Hermione asked as she took a seat next to him and put a plate with finger food down.

"No," he replied. "The neighbours were too far away."

"Mr Ivanovich is not yet able to testify due to injuries sustained while escaping from the kidnappers. However, according to a statement released by the police, Mr Ivanovich is not in critical condition and is expected to make a full recovery. Due to security concerns, he is being treated at an undisclosed secure location."

Ron hoped that Putin's forces wouldn't hurt the guards. If they did, then Russia's relationship with Germany would be soured for a few months, but that wasn't much of a deterrent to Putin.

"Russia blames Chechen terrorists for the attacks, although foreign experts claim that the Chechens lack the ability to conduct such operations on German soil. Nevertheless, the Russian president condemned the attack in harsh words and announced retaliatory attacks in the near future. He also called the ability of the German police to protect Russian diplomats into question and announced that additional guards will be moved to the Russian embassy in Germany until the situation is deemed safe for Russian citizens."

"I guess that's the cover for his snatch team," Hermione said.

Ron agreed and grabbed a small sandwich for himself. "Yes. It's a good excuse to move more armed assets into Germany without raising suspicion - at least official suspicion."

"This attack took place suspiciously soon after a rumoured attempted coup in Moscow. President Putin has declined to reply to questions regarding these rumours. However, witnesses have reported that units of the Russian Army supposedly hunting an escaped tiger and bear were conducting searches of properties that had no connection to the escapes. The fact that Mr Ivanovich was recalled to Moscow at short notice also throws doubt on the claim that this was a routine trip."

So, Dumbeldore and Grindelwald had already started to spread rumours that the entire incident had been the result of an attempted coup in Russia. "Let's hope Putin buys the story," he said.

"He better," Hermione muttered. "I don't want to have to wipe his memories again."

*****​

"Brave Aurors discovered a hideout of unidentified dark wizards and drove them away thanks to their swift and decisive action. The Ministry stands tall in defence of Wizarding Britain against all attackers."

She sighed and dropped the Prophet on the table in the Gryffindor common room. "I can't believe they're writing this sort of nonsensical drivel!"

"I can," Ron replied. "It sounds much better than 'Aurors failed to catch any Death Eaters again and bungled yet another lead'."

"But 'unidentified dark wizards'? Everyone knows they are Death Eaters!" Harry exclaimed.

"They don't actually know that," Ron told him. "They haven't caught anyone yet. The group who's been murdering Ministry officials might be a completely different group of dark wizards! It would be embarrassing if you announce you've caught Death Eaters and then turn up with some French lot."

"The Aurors wouldn't catch either," Harry spat. "Well, those not in the Order wouldn't."

She nodded. The Aurors certainly hadn't impressed her.

"And the Order members won't arrest Death Eaters either, since they can't trust the Ministry to hold them," Ron added.

"So, we've got a newspaper that's actually useless as a newspaper, and an Auror force that's useless for law enforcement." She shook her head. "How did this come to pass?"

"Gold." Ron shrugged. "Malfoy's gold, to be exact."

And wasn't that a depressing thought. "Perhaps we should do something about that."

"No problem. Once I've got a fortune, I'll help," Ron said.

She snorted. "I had something different in mind than bribing the Ministry ourselves."

But they would need a lot of help - or a lot of training - to pull it off. And a lot of nerve.

*****​

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 59: The Favour

Black Lake, Scotland, February 5th, 2006

"Thank you for having us over," Dumbledore said as he sat down in the lounge of their quarters.

Grindelwald grunted something that might have been taken for agreement - if you were very generous. And half-deaf.

But then, this being a visit was just a polite fiction that Dumbledore seemed to insist on keeping up. Perhaps he thought it set them more at ease, even though everyone was well aware that they were living on Dumbledore's property. At least it was a small dinner party - the wizarding Weasley twins, as well as Harry and Ron's own counterparts, had returned to their world. Without making contact with Ron's brothers, to his relief.

"Indeed," Rosengarten added as the Healer sat down as well.

"Thank you for coming," Hermione said, smiling politely. "There's a lot to discuss."

"Indeed," Dumbledore agreed. "But I think we should leave such matters for after dinner." He beamed. "I've been told the cooks have outdone themselves today."

"If you continue like that, you'll undo all the benefits from magic," Grindelwald commented.

"A little indulging never hurt anyone. Not by itself," the old spymaster retorted - though he kept smiling. "But don't worry - I won't gorge myself."

"Not until dessert, at least."

Both old men laughed at that, and then the staff arrived with the hors d'oeuvres.

The meal itself was great - for a change, it was mainly Mediterranean, with paella as the main course, though the salad with fresh olives was a delight as well - at least according to Hermione and Ginny. Ron would've preferred it a little blander.

The desserts, though, were Italian - tiramisu, panna cotta, cannoli and gelati - ice cream - in numerous different flavours. And enough whipped cream to clog several arteries all by itself. Dumbledore sampled everything at least once before he leaned back, rubbing his stomach.

"Delightful!" he announced.

"And harmful," Grindelwald, who had only taken some panna cotta, retorted.

Rosengarten actually drew his wand and cast a spell before announcing that Dumbledore was perfectly healthy.

"See?" the old man told his partner with a beaming smile that didn't dim in the least when Rosengarten added that repeatedly indulging would cause harm.

"Now that we are settled," Dumbledore went on, growing more serious - though not losing his smile, "I have a bit of news for you, although you might already be aware of it: Mr Ivanovich has disappeared from the hospital in which he was being treated."

"We've heard, yes," Ron confirmed. It was the biggest news item of the day, probably the week - speculation was even worse now than before, after this new twist.

"Indeed. My contacts assure me that he wasn't in any state to do so by himself, so the conclusion is that President Putin's special forces acted faster than expected." Dumbledore shook his head. "Unless they already had assets in place in the clinic, they must have had a lucky break with recon to pull off such an operation in so little time."

"Or they are that good," Grindelwald added, baring his teeth.

"Or the German authorities weren't quite up to the task of guarding Mr Ivanovich," Dumbledore countered with a smile.

Grindelwald scoffed. "No surprise there. Standards have really slipped since the war."

"That's a rather damning verdict, I think," Dumbledore's smile grew a little sly.

"Canaris sabotaged the Abwehr," the German replied. "If he hadn't been a traitor, things would have turned out differently. At least in the espionage part of the war."

"Undoubtedly. Although the Gehlen Organisation was quite competent, I think."

"They'd never have let such an operation happen." The old German scoffed again. "We should have kept more Stasi members as well. They never had as many leaks as the MAD."

Hermione cleared her throat. "This is a fascinating discussion, but I think we have some more current matters to discuss."

"Of course. Please excuse our short detour - at our age, we sometimes get lost in the past."

Ron suppressed a snort. He didn't think for a second that Dumbledore ever got distracted like he'd just claimed.

The old man inclined his head. "As I was saying, I think we can safely assume that President Putin has reacted as predicted and kidnapped Mr Ivanovich. Which means he will soon be fed the information we planted in the latter's head. Which brings us to the question of what we will be doing now that the Russian threat is about to end."

"Provided Putin's fooled by all of this," Sirius pointed out.

"Provided, yes. But I think that's not too optimistic in light of our success. And we will certainly keep that possibility in mind - though we shouldn't let it paralyse us." Dumbledore spread his hands. "So, what future do you envision for yourself and your friends, Dr Granger?"

That was a good question. A very good question. Ron had a few thoughts, but Dumbledore was asking Hermione.

She pressed her lips together, frowning briefly before straightening. "I want my friends and families to be safe from Putin and anyone else who wants to use them to influence me," she said, staring straight at Dumbledore.

His expression didn't change as he inclined his head. "We've been working towards that, and, I believe, we're close to achieving our goal. So, assuming things go according to plan and your friends and families are safe, what are your plans?"

"With the portal secured, abolish Azkaban in Wizarding Britain. It's a stain on the country."

"Are you planning to enter politics, then?" Dumbledore asked.

"I'd prefer not to, but I doubt it can be avoided," she replied.

"Well, a characteristic of our political system is that we have representatives who, presumably, pursue goals in politics that we share and support while we are free to pursue other interests," Dumbledore said.

"Judging by what we know, your Ministry should be quite receptive to the right incentives," Grindelwald added with a cold smile. "Messrs Weasley were quite frank about the way things worked."

"The Ministry supposedly made great strides in the fight against corruption," Hermione said, with narrowed eyes.

"Well, that is true. Technically," wizarding Luna told her. "The Ministry's honesty has improved a lot under Kingsley."

"But a significant reason for that success is that it started from an abysmal point. Corruption was endemic. The whole system was built on it," Luna added. "Even our parliament and government would have been impressed by the depths to which your Ministry and Wizengamot had sunk."

Dumbledore inclined his head, not challenging her. Neither did Hermione - and it fit what Ron had heard from her about her home dimension.

"And how are things now?" Hermione asked. Ron knew that she had made inquiries of her own.

"Better, but things could still improve," wizarding Luna replied. "The Ministry is doing well - there are still protégés and nepotism, but blatant corruption is now illegal. However, the Wizengamot is not quite as reformed. Gold donations still are the preferred way of influencing members."

Grindelwald snorted. "An honest politician stays bought."

"And the Ministry relies on certain donations as well," Hermione said. "While most donations are tied to certain tasks and events, like the New Year's Ball or St Mungo's, it goes without saying that whoever finances those more or less essential services wields considerable influence just by threatening, whether implied or outright, to stop doing so."

"Things haven't really changed since I left the country, then." Rosengarten shook his head. "They just swapped out the people in charge."

"That's how things usually work out in our country as well," Sirius commented.

"The reforms go beyond that," wizarding Luna retorted. "But they haven't gone far enough, yet."

"Which is a good thing, from a certain point of view," Dumbledore said. "It will make it easier to nudge the Ministry towards adjusting its policies in accordance with our plans."

Ron saw Hermione bristle a little - probably at the way he implied his own participation. Or takeover. She shook her head. "Trying to reform the Ministry by perpetuating its questionable practices isn't a good idea."

"But it would, in my estimation, be the fastest and most efficient way to stop the horrors of Azkaban," the old spymaster replied. "Each day that passes without a change means more people suffering from those monsters."

That was a good point, of course. But the way Dumbledore argued… Ron shrugged. "Without actual reforms, it would just be a temporary solution. Easy to reverse if the Ministry or Wizengamot decides to do so."

"That is a risk with every solution. Short of destroying the prison outright, it will take decades before enough inertia has built up to render the threat of a reversal moot." Dumbledore sighed. "I wish it were different, but while I never entered politics myself, my former profession necessitated enough contact with politicians of all parties to be very familiar with how things are done."

"Destroying the Dementors is actually one of my goals," Hermione said.

"Really?" Wizarding Luna gasped. "You'd destroy an entire magical species?"

Ron couldn't tell if the witch was serious or not.

"I will settle for banishing them from our world," Hermione replied, "even though I'd prefer to destroy them. They are a blight upon our country." She shivered. "And they are evil."

"But that doesn't mean they should be destroyed," wizarding Luna retorted. "Everything has its place in nature."

"They seem rather unnatural, according to the descriptions I've heard," Dumbledore said.

"Indeed," Rosengarten agreed. "There's nothing at all natural about them." He shook his head. "Removing them will be a boon to any world."

Wizarding Luna pouted, but Luna put her hand on her arm, apparently keeping her from continuing the argument.

"In any case, removing the prisoners from Azkaban means the Ministry needs a proper prison to hold them. Building one will take time and considerable resources. Staffing it will cost even more gold. That means hurrying the proposal along with the help of bribes won't actually help very much," Hermione pointed out.

"But those incarcerated for lesser crimes would profit; they don't need to be held in actual prisons," Dumbledore replied.

"Not after Azkaban," Hermione agreed with a frown. "They tend to spend considerable time in St Mungo's. Unless they are outright psychotic."

Ron saw wizarding Luna nod at that with an uncharacteristically tight expression.

He didn't ever want to meet a Dementor.

"It seems that Wizarding Britain hasn't heard that rehabilitating prisoners is far more successful when it comes to fighting crime than revenge. If only they were aware of the Scandinavian model," Dumbledore said.

"Magical Scandinavia isn't quite as progressive," Hermione told him.

"Oh, but they are! They have the most progressive attitude towards werewolves in the entire world!" wizarding Luna protested.

"Which is why the country's never known a day without an ongoing blood feud for two hundred years," Hermione retorted.

"There's a theory that that is the natural behaviour of werewolves," wizarding Luna said. "But it's hard to test the theory without a proper control group, so it can't yet have been verified."

And probably never would be. "That aside, if we're about to reform Azkaban, we might as well go all the way." Ron shrugged when everyone looked at him.

"That's mission creep," Sirius said. "Stick to the clear goal: abolishing Azkaban."

"Rehabilitating prisoners would reduce the chance that a particularly violent crime will be used to reverse the reforms in order to score political points with the easily scared," Hermione said.

"Which make up the majority of the population of our country!" wizarding Luna said, nodding emphatically. Ron wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

"Not just your country," Luna added. "The world would be a much better place if people were not so cowardly."

"Certain dictatorships would have been toppled far earlier," Dumbledore said. "But we digress. I do agree that focusing on abolishing the worst excesses is the best course of action. Or, at the very least, the most effective plan that can be implemented in a timely manner."

"By bribing the Ministry and Wizengamot," Hermione said.

Dumbledore tilted his head slightly. "Would it be more moral to use less, shall we say, pragmatic methods, at the cost of letting people suffer for longer?"

"We already went over that," Hermione shot back. She sighed. "But even such a pragmatic solution requires quite a lot of money. Gold, in this case, since wizards generally have no use for muggle money - especially muggle money from another world."

"Money's no problem," Dumbledore told her. "Compared to the budget of the Phoenix Gruppe, the money needed to influence Wizarding Britain's legal system is a drop in the bucket."

"A rather substantial drop," Grindelwald interjected.

"It would still be a substantial favour," Hermione said.

Dumbledore's smile widened a little. "And you'd prefer an exchange of favours rather than a gift that you feel would make you owe us, am I correct?"

"Yes," Hermione confirmed with a glare that would've been rude if Dumbledore hadn't provoked her response. "I thought about using magic to provide the needed funds, but, even ignoring my world's Statute of Secrecy, there are certain issues with such a course of action which I would rather not have to resolve."

"Not least the threat of word getting back to your world, I presume," Dumbledore said, "where it would hamper the very efforts said actions would finance."

Grindelwald scoffed. "Laundering the money would take care of that."

"That wouldn't address the threat of blackmail," Hermione countered. "Or just rumours being spread."

"That, too, can be handled," Dumbledore told her. "Magical services wouldn't be open to the general public, after all. And with your ability to modify memories, literally no one would know."

Other than Dumbledore and Grindelwald, of course, Ron thought.

"You certainly have experience with information control," Luna said. Her smile was a little too toothy.

"Sometimes, ignorance is bliss, and sometimes, the truth does hurt - often innocents," Dumbledore replied.

"If the truth hurts then perhaps it means it should hurt," Luna retorted.

"And pain teaches us a lesson, life is suffering, etc. etc." Grindelwald rolled his eyes. "Could we please avoid the exchanges of cheap philosophy and focus on the matter at hand? We're not here to mince words but to plan our future."

Both Dumbledore and Luna frowned at that for a moment, but then the old spymaster spoke up again: "I fear we will have to continue this discussion later, my dear. For now, let's discuss finances."

"And politics," Hermione added. "It's quite obvious that there's a very lucrative market for magical healthcare among the billionaires of this world."

"That's indeed obvious," Rosengarten said. "And legal, in this world."

"The Wizengamot, or certain members of it, might not agree," wizarding Luna pointed out.

"And the Ministry would likely want to discourage such dealings - secrecy is certainly paramount when offering magical services to muggles in this world," Hermione said. "Although magical healthcare is not as much a risk as the more exotic services - which are far harder to explain as the product of advanced technology."

"The market for those services isn't as large, though," Dumbledore replied. "And while providing healthcare doesn't pose many, if any, moral dilemmas, things get a little murkier if we diversify."

Like mind control or hunting traitors, Ron thought. "More profitable, though, in a few select cases," he couldn't help pointing out.

"Indeed. And more tempting as well." The old man sighed loudly as if he were serious. "So much could've been accomplished by one or two additional adjustments to President Putin's memories."

"Oh, yes!" wizarding Luna agreed. "We could've saved so many animals from extinction!"

"We went over this already. Several times," Hermione said in a flat tone, her eyes narrowing. "It's not worth it."

Dumbledore nodded, albeit a little slowly, but the Lunas looked a little mutinous, so Ron added: "And should Putin lose his mind, he might order the last nature reserves destroyed - and the Arctic as well. Or oligarchs might attempt to exploit his apparent weakness."

"But sometimes, the risk is worth it," Grindelwald said. "You shouldn't dismiss the possibility of changing the fate of nations with a single spell."

"As we've demonstrated, it's a little more complicated than that," Hermione retorted.

"Putin was ready for you. Most people won't be." The old German scoffed. "Especially not the kind of dictators responsible for terror campaigns or even genocide."

Ron wasn't surprised in the slightest that Luna nodded in emphatic agreement.

"Those are exceptions," Hermione said. "And usually, things happen too fast to react in time."

"Few such crimes happen in a vacuum. Most of the latest tragedies could have been prevented if people had realised what was being planned." Dumbledore shrugged, once. "And we have access to some of the best information services these days."

"For a private business," Sirius spoke up.

"For any organisation," Dumbledore corrected him with a sly smile.

"We certainly have better resources than most countries," Grindelwald added. "And it would only be fitting if we could actually turn a profit from them after all the money Albus has spent on his private secret service."

"A vile exaggeration," Dumbledore retorted. "Most of the budget goes into sources in various secret services. Our own network is hardly that expensive."

"Not like the Shadow Government's secret service," Luna said, nodding again.

"I think we can make an exception for genocide and similar threats," Hermione said.

"And it's not as if anyone would mourn the sort of monsters who commit crimes against humanity," Sirius added, "so might as well kill them after dealing with their messes."

"That should be decided on a case by case basis." Hermione shook her head. "It cannot be a general rule or policy."

"Wise," Dumbledore said. "Although we've been, once again, diverted from our original subject."

Hemione pressed her lips together for a moment. "You want to know about the portal's future."

The old man inclined his head.

She sighed. "The Ministry will want to close it down, should they ever find out about it."

"With some justification," Rosengarten said. "What if a particularly dangerous dimension were to be discovered? Full of unknown diseases, for example?"

"With the appropriate precautions, such risks can be minimised," Hermione replied.

The old Healer shook his head. "You can't prepare for everything."

"So? Leaving your house puts you at risk. A small risk, though, so it's negligible." Hermione didn't quite scoff. "I refuse to abandon my research because of theoretical dangers that can be minimised with proper precautions. People have taken such risks for millennia - that's how we make progress."

"Yes! We wouldn't know anything about Ethiopian Nundus if Magizoologists had stopped searching for them just because they kept getting eaten!" Wizarding Luna's honest comment didn't help as much as she probably thought it would.

"There's a difference between risking yourself and risking others," Rosengarten replied.

"As I said," Hermione said through clenched teeth, "with proper precautions, the risk can be minimised.

"The Unspeakables thought that as well before they almost broke time," the old wizard told her.

"There's never been any evidence confirming that," Hermione said. "Today you'd call it an urban myth."

"Of course there's no evidence - they erased themselves from existence when they made a mistake."

"Do you honestly think that time travel could create a paradox that could 'break time'?" Hermione shook her head. "If it were possible, we wouldn't be around since as early as the nineteenth century, wizards were experimenting with time travel. Which do you think is more likely: that every time travel experiment avoided that danger or that it's just not possible to 'break time'?"

"Absence of evidence isn't evidence of absence," wizarding Luna said, with Luna nodding along.

"But evidence of failed time travel experiments does exist," Hermione retorted. "People aging rapidly, for one."

"Yes, failed time travel experiments." Wizarding Luna nodded.

Ron patted Hermione's thigh as she sighed. "I won't experiment with time. Just with other dimensions."

Wizarding Luna beamed at her. "Good!"

*****​

"I've missed this," Ron said as they walked along the shores of the Black Lake on the path that they had created by taking dozens of strolls over months - and which Dumbledore's people had kept clear of snow, apparently, in their absence.

"The cold or the snow?"

"The walking," he explained. "The lake, at night. The sky." You.

"Ah." She nodded; he couldn't really see her face, but the light was bright enough to see her silhouette. "I didn't really miss the reason for those walks, though," she said.

He knew what she meant. The surveillance. By Dumbledore and MI5. Probably MI6 as well, after Moscow and Berlin. He nodded in agreement. "Quite." Then he saw her flick her wand and heard the faint buzzing noise of a privacy charm. "If the path is bugged, then they'll wonder what you just did."

"I'll blame it on interference from my generators," Hermione replied. "That might help dissuade them from pushing for prototypes."

"That won't work for long."

"It doesn't have to; just long enough for me to prepare and cast a Fidelius Charm." She sighed. "I really need to focus now on researching that charm. It's crucial for the safety of us all. But I also need to improve our protections."

"Magical protections?"

"Yes… oh. Well, not against magic; I don't think that's really a threat in this world."

"Not before Dumbledore and Grindelwald recruit more mercenary wizards," he said. Which they would.

"We'll have to screen them beforehand," she replied. "And we'll have to do some recruiting of our own."

"Mostly friends and family?"

"By preference, yes." She sighed. "It's hard to trust strangers. Who wouldn't be tempted by having a world without magic at their disposal?"

His own counterpart? Ron wasn't sure. "And how many won't realise the risks?"

"True," she replied. "Luna by herself is already a handful."

"More than that." He shook his head. "At least they have given up on the idea of mind-controlling politicians. Can you imagine a world ruled by Luna?"

She shuddered. "Or by Luna. Both of them are lovely women with great talent and bravery, but…"

He nodded. "I wouldn't want to live in a world ruled by either."

"Definitely not."

They reached the usual end of their walks, where a small bench had been cleared of snow as well, and sat down.

"So… what kind of protections are you thinking about?" Ron asked.

"Most of the magical protections I know aren't very useful for muggles. Wards will keep electronics from working inside their area of effect," she said.

He winced a little. No telly? No computers? No phones? "I don't know anyone who could live without modern electronics. Even Aunt Muriel likes her radio and telly."

"Ellen and Gabriel wouldn't stand for that, either. And it would be pointless anyway - I couldn't ward their practice; they couldn't work then, and so they would be targets there." Hermione shook her head. "And Anti-Muggle Charms obviously don't work either; they'd need my help to enter their own home."

"Can't you enchant some amulet or something to allow them to enter?" Ron asked. That was a common idea in a number of books and games.

"In theory, yes - it's not as if there's a lot of demand for that kind of enchantment. But it's tricky, and it wouldn't let them host guests at their home, either." She snorted. "I can't vet all their friends and acquaintances, and even if I could and had enough enchanted amulets, they would need to be compelled somehow to always take the items with them when visiting."

Ah. "So, now that we know what's not possible, what do you plan to do that would be possible?"

"Something to allow them to flee instantly if they are attacked. A Portkey would be ideal, but I never learned how to create those, and that knowledge is generally restricted - there was a wave of muggle abductions in the nineteenth century with Portkeys that were left for muggles to find, and since then, they have been heavily regulated."

Ron nodded. "Well, at least they cared."

She scoffed. "I think it's more that the Obliviators complained about all the additional work and demanded overtime compensation."

"Ah." That would fit what she had told him about the old Ministry. "So, you need to study and research both the Fidelius Charm and the creation of Portkeys?"

"And I need to find a way to get the Ministry to abandon Azkaban."

"And do so without ending up owing Dumbledore too many favours," he pointed out.

"I'm aware of that," she replied, and he could tell without looking that she was talking through clenched teeth.

"Do you have a plan yet?"

"I've got an idea. Or, to be honest, the beginnings of an idea. But I need to talk to Luna, first."

He winced again, glad she couldn't see his expression in the darkness. That was a scary thought.

*****​

Black Lake, Scotland, February 10th, 2006

"...and rumours of an attempted coup against President Putin persist despite repeated denials by the Kremlin. President Putin himself has been seen in public every day, which has been noted by experts as an obvious attempt to counter rumours that he had been wounded in an assassination attempt."

"They're still going on about this?" Ginny asked, sitting down next to Ron on the couch in the lounge across from the TV. "It's been a week."

"Russia's still one of the most powerful nations in the world," Ron told her. And they had an arsenal of nukes that rivalled the American one.

"But Putin's clearly still in charge. If it was a coup, it failed." She shook her head. "At least it seems that the plan has worked. I can now start planning for the French Open."

"Ah."

"More than two months; plenty of time to get back into shape, but I won't have the tournament practice," she went on. "I might play some smaller tournaments, to get back in the game. My ranking tanked, too, but I should get a wild card for the French Open."

He made a noise of agreement. "That sounds OK."

"It'll be a struggle to get my ranking back, though. Seles never really made a comeback."

"Seles was stabbed," he replied.

"Yes. At least my popularity hasn't taken too much of a hit," she said. "The terrorist threat has improved it, at least among some demographics, according to my agent."

"So, you'll be financially secure, at least." He didn't smile, but the way she frowned told him that she knew he wanted to.

She huffed again. "And I guess Harry and you will be busy with the portal."

Uh oh. "If it's set up by then," he said. "Hermione's still working on the Fidelius Charm. And afterwards, we'd have to find a new world to travel to, first."

"Ah."

"So Harry will likely be able to travel with you." And probably would, anyway - it wasn't yet certain that the Russians had really stopped their attempts.

"Good." She smiled. Not her proud smile. Not the smile when she had pulled a prank on him. Just a soft smile. The one usually aimed at Harry.

He cleared his throat, then pointed at the TV. "They're finally done with Moscow."

"Good."

"And now for something completely different," the announcer said.

Ron shook his head.

"The series of mysterious animal thefts in Britain continues. Various private habitats have been robbed of their animals. A number of commentators have speculated that this is the work of animal rights activists since all the habitats which have thus far been targeted housed endangered animals in conditions which Home Office inspectors have since described as 'not ideal'. The police have assured the public that they are doing what they can to solve the case - especially since there is widespread concern that the thieves may be unable or unwilling to provide the stolen animals with the necessary specialist care."

He sighed. "At least the Lunas aren't mind-controlling politicians."

"They're creating habitats to transport the animals," Ginny told him.

"Great. They're not about to release wolves and bears in England, are they?" That would certainly make headlines.

"I don't think so. But they've been talking about 'repurposing' the Malfoy and Parkinson estates." Ginny grinned.

Ron groaned. "I thought Hermione was going to talk to them."

"She did."

Damn.

*****​

He found Hermione near her new lab half an hour later. 'New lab' was a little misleading - it was actually a converted former storage room on the same level as the portal room, but, as Hermione had said, it would serve well enough and wouldn't put expensive computers at risk.

She also claimed that, since she wasn't spell crafting but merely learning a known spell, she wasn't at risk, but Ron still worried whenever she went to 'study'.

"Hey."

She stopped on her way to the portal room. "Hey."

"How's it going?" he asked as he joined her.

Scowling for a moment, she shrugged. "I'm making progress."

Not as much as she'd like, then. But she had higher standards than most people he knew. "I've seen reports about a series of animal thefts." She didn't quite gasp, but he saw her tense. "You knew?"

"I suspected." She pressed her lips together. "And, really, stealing - or liberating, as they call it - animals is pretty much the least troublesome course of action they could've chosen."

"That doesn't mean it isn't worrying, though," he retorted.

"They're not messing around with politicians or covering areas in Muggle-Repelling Charms. Or seeding magical plants to restore forests." She opened the door to the lounge and headed towards the tea kettle.

"Ah. Point taken. But England has only so many animals in need of 'liberation'."

"I'm aware of that." She didn't look at him as she started pouring the tea into two cups. "But let's tackle one problem at a time."

"Well, I can't exactly help you with the spell." He took his cup and sat at the table.

"You can help with the wording, actually," she told him as she joined him. "That's the most important part of the spell. Of an individual spell, at least."

That was true - he had forgotten about that, he realised with a smile. "I can't help with the Dementors or recruiting wizards, though."

"So you want to rein in the Lunas?"

He shrugged. "Someone needs to keep them from going overboard. And I know Luna best."

"I know." She took a sip from her tea, so he didn't see her lips, but she sounded a little tenser than before.

"I don't think they'll be deterred forever, though. Ginny said they're working on portable habitats," he said.

"Yes." Hermione sighed. "They're planning to release the animals in their natural habitats."

"Which have shrunk a lot, though," Ron pointed out. He wasn't a biologist, but the news had covered how much territory a tiger needed. "I'm not sure if there's enough room for all the animals."

"There should be," Hermione replied. "Perhaps if we find a virgin earth…"

"Wouldn't that be populated by other animals, which would have to be displaced to make room for the rescued animals?" It was only logical, after all. At least in his opinion.

"They should have some leeway."

"I'm not sure the Lunas would accept that." He was lying - he was sure that they wouldn't.

"Well, that would only encourage them to create and enlarge habitats in this world." Hermione shook her head. "And they don't have the resources for that."

That was a problem. A problem Ron wasn't sure he could solve.

*****​

Unnamed Highlands, Scotland, February 11th, 2006

Ron didn't even stumble upon appearing in a snowy field in the middle of nowhere, nor did he release wizarding Luna's hand. He had really got used to Apparition, then. But… "This looks deserted."

"That's the idea," she replied, nodding with a smile.

He cleared his throat.

She blinked. "Oh. Right. This way!"

She led him across a snowfield to the base of a hill. "We call it 'Underhill'. Because it's under the hill!"

Or because Luna liked her myths. Ron nodded anyway and didn't jerk when wizarding Luna waved her wand, causing a door to appear in the middle of a snow bank. A swish of her wand made it swing open, revealing…

...a huge hall. Far short of a stadium, of course, but bigger than the average warehouse. He whistled, genuinely impressed.

She beamed at him. "It's big enough to house all our rescues - provided we shrink them. I wanted a portable savannah suitcase, they are oh so practical, but the only one in existence is owned by the Scamander family, and they wouldn't sell to us for all the gold in Gringotts - they're jealous of The Quibbler's fame, you know?"

"Ah. Fellow Magizoologists?"

"Yes, but terribly conventional." She closed the door behind them. "Luna! We've got a visitor!"

"I know!" came the reply from what Ron identified as a cardboard cubicle. "Hi, Ron!" Luna stuck her head out of the cubicle, apparently leaning back on a chair.

She sounded a little too cheerful. Guilty conscience, he knew. He pointed at the various boxes and trunks. "Creating a miniature zoo?"

"This is just temporary!" Luna replied with a frown.

"Only until we can find a place for them in the wilderness," her counterpart added. "Which could take a while, of course. Do you want a tour?"

He shook his head. "Maybe later. I wanted to know what you're planning once you've collected all the endangered animals in England. Apart from trying to find them habitats."

Wizarding Luna pouted. "Restoring their natural habitats will take a long time. We might have to keep them shrunken until then. Or we could keep them in a spelled slumber, but the potion needed for that hasn't been sufficiently tested on animals, yet."

"It was only tested on humans?"

"Yes, of course."

That said a lot about the priorities of wizards. "What about Hermione's special project?"

"Oh, that's… well, we might need to ask Hagrid for help," wizarding Luna said.

"We've got some ideas left to try, but…" Luna shrugged. "The fire crabs are proving to be a little too big to be adapted."

"Yes. Although in our defence, I'm an explorer, not a breeder." Wizarding Luna smiled.

"And Hagrid is a breeder?"

"Foremost expert in Wizarding Britain," wizarding Luna said. "He successfully bred fire craps and manticores!"

"Perhaps we should call him."

And the wizard might also know how to deal with Dementors.

*****​

"The Fidelius Charm is a tricky spell. Unlike with most other spells, in the case of this charm, how well you can use it is much more important than how well you can cast it," Dumbledore said. "It is used to hide a secret - a piece of knowledge. Most often, a location - that was the purpose for which the spell was originally developed. However, it has more potential than that. In theory, you could hide someone's entire existence with this spell. You could evade the most determined, most Orwellian pursuit - or erase someone from society at the most fundamental level."

He smiled. "However, it has quite strict limitations. The more people who know a secret, the harder it is to hide it - initially. Once the spell has been successfully cast, however, it is nigh inviolable. Which is what makes it so dangerous." He grew serious. "People tend to trust it too much. Secure in the knowledge that their home is perfectly protected, they grow sloppy. And, of course, the ability to hide a specific piece of knowledge also includes hiding crimes."

She gasped. "It would allow someone to appear beyond suspicion if their crimes were hidden by the charm!"

"Exactly. There are ways around it, of course. Just because someone's true allegiance is hidden by the charm doesn't mean that they'll be trusted; most people and organisations have more than one enemy. And, fortunately, the Daily Prophet publishing anything without scruple has pushed many secrets above the level that the spell can handle." He grinned. "Mr Malfoy's past is too well-known to be hidden, for example."

That was a small consolation. "Can the secret, if it's a fundamental principle, like a spell, be rediscovered?"

"Not to my knowledge, Miss Granger."

She gasped again, shocked as she understood the ramifications. To think of all the knowledge - all the spells, all the discoveries - that could be hidden, unreachable for anyone, just because of one selfish, greedy wizard or witch! "But… that's… why is this spell not considered an Unforgivable?" It endangered the very fundament of civilisation: the free exchange of knowledge and information!

"Two reasons, Miss Granger. First, it won't last forever. A few years, certainly. A few decades, if cast masterfully. And second, who would be able to know that it was cast?"

"Ah." She should've thought of that.

"That you cannot keep more than one secret using the spell also discourages its, shall we say, frivolous use. It would be embarrassing, possibly fatally so, if you need the spell for your own protection, but have already cast it to hide a new spell you'd researched. Then, of course, there's the fact that casting the charm is by no means a small feat. And, obviously, there is the issue that if the original Secret Keeper dies, everyone who knew the secret becomes a new Secret Keeper."

She nodded. So, the Wizarding World might not break down as a few drunk wizards started hiding essential knowledge. "You mentioned the wording."

"Oh, yes." He smiled again. "As with genie contracts, the wording is key when casting the spell. Magic likes loopholes. Some say magic was the original loophole, so to speak. Magic certainly has a sense of irony, I've found."

*****​

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 60: The New Career

The Burrow, Ottery St Catchpole, Devon, Britain, Wizarding World, February 12th, 2006

If not for the, well, colourful robes and, in Mr Weasley's case, mismatched trousers and vest, it would have looked like a Weasley family gathering. And the magic, of course. Can't forget the magic, Ron thought as he saw Mrs Weasley float the dishes off of, and a giant cake on to, the table.

"Here you go! That should be enough cake for everyone."

"Thank you, Molly," Hermione said with a beaming smile.

"Thanks, Mum!"

"Thank you, Mrs Weasley."

"Call me Molly, Ron." She beamed at him. "Fred! Have some patience! Guests are served first!"

"I was about to serve them!" the scolded wizard protested. "And I'm George!"

"No, I'm George!"

"Children…" Arthur sighed. "Behave."

For once, the twins shut up, and shortly afterwards, the chocolate cake split into well-sized slices that floated over to the plates on the table. A bowl of whipped cream was passed around, and Ron took two spoonfuls for his portion before taking a bite.

"Just like Mum's," he whispered, smiling.

"Indeed," Hermione agreed. "The best cake I've ever eaten."

"Thank you, Hermione." Mrs Weasley - Molly, he reminded himself for about the tenth time - smiled at them.

"Thank you, Mother," wizarding Percy said. "Your cooking remains as excellent as ever."

Wizarding Fred - or so Ron thought - started parroting Percy, but another glare from Molly shut him down. "Behave!"

Ron had to hide a smile - that had sounded like Austin Powers.

"But we are behaving! Misbehaving!" wizarding George replied.

"Exactly!"

"Boys…" Once more, Arthur stepped in, and the twins shut up. For the time being. But after everyone had finished their cake, and most of their tea, he spoke up again: "Hermione, you said you had something important to discuss."

"Without Ron?" Wizarding George asked. "Our Ron, I mean. Although two Ron's would be one too many."

"But what about Harry? He's pretty much a Weasley. Married into the family and everything," his brother went on.

"After Mum gave adopting him a good try for years."

"Boys…"

"They already know what this is about," Hermione said as she stood.

"Oi! Unfair!"

"Boys."

"And Charlie and Bill are not in the country," Hermione continued, ignoring the twins' banter. Then she cast a series of spells - privacy charms, Ron guessed. "All of you are aware of where I spent the last seven years."

"Yes! In some dark basement in Scotland!"

"We were there!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Don't make me silence you. Anyway, we've dealt with the problems - the most urgent ones - in the other world. The portal is reasonably safe now. That means we can now start focusing on other tasks."

"Like abolishing Azkaban!" wizarding Fred exclaimed.

"We're working on that, actually." Hermione's smile grew a little tight. "But sooner or later, we'll attempt to open a portal to completely different worlds."

"Oh! Another set of Weasleys? Can you imagine, three - six - versions of us?"

"We can, and it's a horrible prospect," Ron told them.

They laughed at that, of course. And Molly looked like she didn't know if she should laugh as well, or be annoyed at not being able to scold Ron since he was a guest in their home.

Hermione, of course, had no qualms about glaring at him. Ron beamed at her. Trying to be overly serious only made the twins try harder. Which she should know from her own experience. She cleared her throat. "Yes, that is a possibility, but we'll be aiming for more diverse worlds."

Once she found out how, of course. And whether or not such worlds existed.

"As you can imagine, this will be a rather large project. The other world's Mr Dumbledore is financing part of it, at least." How large that part would end up being would depend on how much money they could make. "But we'll need the help of trusted wizards and witches who can keep a secret and don't shy away from potential danger."

"We're in!" wizarding Fred announced at once.

"We're already familiar with the set-up, and exploring new worlds sounds far more exciting than selling pranks to children," his brother added.

"Or their stupid parents," wizarding Fred went on. "So, when do we start?"

"What about your shop?" Molly blurted. "Are you going to abandon it?"

"Good question, Mum," wizarding Fred said. "I didn't know you cared!"

Molly gasped, but wizarding George quickly placated her. "He's joking. But we do have staff, and making the items isn't as time-consuming or difficult as inventing them. We shouldn't lose much business if we slow down a little."

"Exactly!" his brother agreed.

"It's not about the money! It's dangerous!" Molly retorted.

"So's experimenting with potions, and we've done that since third year." Wizarding Fred shrugged.

Ron winced - that wasn't a good argument. He could see Molly winding herself up for a truly impressive outburst - she had the same expression Mum had when they had told her about Pettigrew.

But Arthur spoke up: "Sons, Molly's right - this isn't the same as experimenting with spells or potions."

"We've also fought in the war," wizarding Fred blurted out in return, but then drew a sharp breath, his eyes glancing at Molly as if he was surprised at his own words.

With cause, Ron realised - everyone had fallen silent.

"It's not the same!" Molly protested. "This isn't… this is going out and looking for danger!"

"Molly, we're not looking for danger - we're looking for new worlds. New discoveries," Hermione said. "And we'll be careful. Cautious. We won't just enter a new world at random."

"We won't?" Wizarding Fred gasped theatrically. "That was half the draw!"

But his twin brother elbowed him. "We're not stupid. We won't just jump through a portal. But this is big. Probably the biggest thing in centuries. And we want in."

Wizarding Fred nodded. "Yes. Making prank items is entertaining, but…" He shrugged. "It's not…"

Wizarding George took over. "People's lives aren't going to change because of a clever prank. This, though…" He grinned. "This could change everything."

"And we really want to meet our counterparts!" wizarding Fred added with a wide grin. "Not to mention the pay will be great."

Ron suppressed a sigh. Of course, Dumbledore and Grindelwald would have tried to recruit them while they guarded the portal.

Hermione must have realised the same thing. "About that. We're working on acquiring funds and finances. While I wouldn't say that I distrust Mr Dumbledore, I wouldn't feel very safe if he had complete control over this project."

"Trust, but verify," Ron said.

"Ah!" Wizarding George nodded. "You want us on your side, in case there's a conflict between you and Dumbledore."

"Honestly? Yes." Hermione sighed. "It's as Ron said: I'd like to have some assurances."

"Something to keep the old man honest," Ron added. "He's been honest with us so far, but so far we haven't had a difference of opinion, either."

"And he's working with their world's Grindelwald," Arthur added. "Granted, a muggle Grindelwald who wasn't the leader our Grindelwald was, but…"

Everyone nodded. Ron was relieved to see that the wizarding Weasleys weren't as trusting towards Dumbledore as his own family. Of course, his parents owed a lot to Dumbledore.

"Oh, so we're going to be spies as well?" Wizarding Fred sounded far too eager for Ron's taste.

"No. No spying - you wouldn't be able to fool him." Hermione frowned at the twins. "He's been a spymaster for decades; he'd see straight through you. Just be honest and upfront with him."

"You'd be a deterrent," Ron added.

"And our family as well, I take it," Arthur commented, almost casually, but the glint in his eyes - the wizard wasn't amused, to say the least. "Since we would certainly react, should something happen to our children."

Hermione winced but nodded. "I hate to ask this of you, but I - we - need people we can trust on our side. Honest people who will do what's right, not what's easy, if things go wrong. Dumbledore isn't evil, but he's been a spy for all his life, and he's used to working with spies. He won't baulk at recruiting people with, well, flexible morals, because that's what he has been doing for decades." She took a deep breath. "And I don't trust such people. The temptation a world without wizards and witches offers is just too great to trust them. We need people who won't be corrupted."

Ron nodded. The Lunas showed that. They meant well, but… what if they had more sinister goals?

"Hey! We're already corrupted!" wizarding Fred protested. "We're proud to have been corrupted as early as our first year!"

Wizarding Percy spoke up for the first time since the discussion had started. "Be serious," he told the twins before turning to Hermione and Ron. "It would also be a matter of national security. If Dumbledore hires an untrustworthy wizard, and they should gain control over the portal, that would endanger Wizarding Britain."

"Yes," Hermione agreed. "I'm sure Dumbledore will attempt to play all his wizards and witches against each other, to keep any one of them from controlling him and his partner, but that's not a perfect solution. All it takes is one mistake."

"Or the mercenary wizards deciding that they can get more money working together without the muggles." Wizarding Percy nodded. "I still think that we should inform Kingsley. The support of the Minister would be invaluable."

"I disagree," Arthur said. "Kingsley is a good man, but his successor? Or the Wizengamot?" He shook his head. "It's too dangerous."

"Which means we'll have to step in!" wizarding Fred announced with a wide grin. "We should call it the 'Weasleys' Wizarding Worldgate'!"

"No, we won't," Hermione said firmly, but she was smiling.

*****​

Greenwich, London, Britain, Wizarding World, February 12th, 2006

"...and Fred and George will move to the portal base as soon as they finish reorganising their business," Hermione said.

Her mother nodded. "Does that mean you'll live there as well?"

Mrs Granger didn't frown or sound angry, but Hermione flinched a little anyway, or so it seemed to Ron. "For the foreseeable future. Once we find a deserted world, we're planning to move the main base there, for safety reasons."

"So that if you dig too deep, you won't release a Balrog on our world?" Mr Granger, too, seemed to approve.

"Dad! I'm not a dwarf," Hermione protested. "But, yes, that's the idea."

"Just don't build a self-destruct device," her father told her. "That never ends well."

"That's a risk we need to take," she retorted. "The safety provided by an off-world - or extra-dimensional - base would be significantly reduced if a potential invader could easily seize the entire base."

"And what if an invader uses it against you?"

"If they can use the self-destruct device, then they'd have already critically penetrated base security anyway," Ron cut in, which earned him a glance from Hermione, who seemed to be torn between annoyance at him butting in and gratitude for supporting her.

Gratitude won out. "Exactly. In any case, it's better to lose a base than a planet - or your families." Hermione blinked, then winced. "Sorry."

An awkward silence followed that lasted for about fifteen seconds before Ron cleared his throat and changed the subject somewhat. "We'll be recruiting a few more trusted wizards and witches. Mainly the eldest and second-eldest Weasley son and their families. Or family, in this case."

"Bill and Charlie," Hermione explained. "Which will bring Bill's wife, Fleur."

"They haven't accepted yet," he cautioned her. As far as he knew, they hadn't even been told yet.

But she shrugged. "I'm sure at least Bill will join up quickly. He's the type to explore and likes adventure. Charlie… he loves dragons above everything else, so unless we find a world full of dragons, we might not see him."

"Except for family gatherings," Ron said. "Mum and Dad want to meet their counterparts." Everyone wanted to.

"As do the twins, I suppose," Hermione added. "That should be interesting."

Both her parents smiled - they knew the twins, then. Ron grinned, though he felt more cynical than amused. "They can't be worse than the Lunas, I think."

"Don't jinx it!"

"The Lunas? Luna Lovegood?" Mrs Granger asked.

"Yes. Her and her counterpart," Hermione replied.

"What have they done?"

Hermione sighed and started to detail the Lunas' plans. The Grangers were amused but also concerned. "Are they planning to release magical species as well?" Mrs Granger asked. "Or to restore the ancient woodlands, for example?"

"They should know better than that," Ron replied. "Knowing what invasive species do to the native species should keep them from doing something foolish." At least he hoped so - he knew his Luna much better than he knew her counterpart, despite the time they had spent together on missions.

"Well, at least that's not a concern here," Mr Granger said.

"Not before we discover a world with unknown flora and fauna," Ron agreed.

Every Granger present frowned at him in response.

*****​

Later, while Ron was taking a walk with Hermione, they passed her old address from her time in his world. He stopped and looked up at what would have been her flat. "Do you know who's living here?"

She shook her head. "No. And I don't think I want to know. I never lived here - my flat's in the other world."

His world. "You're not even a little curious?"

"No. Maybe a little. But it would feel weird."

"Weirder than working with your dimensional counterpart?"

"Touché." She snorted. "Who knows - I might meet one of my own counterparts myself."

"Sooner or later, you're bound to find another parallel world."

"That's not certain. The possibilities are endless, after all," she said.

"Unless the universes that are the easiest to reach are the ones that are the most similar. Or something." That was possible, wasn't it?

"We don't have enough data to draw such a conclusion. I wasn't picking a universe at random, after all, but using my connection to find my home universe. Now, when looking for a universe at random, anything could happen."

He nodded. "That might be a little dangerous until you find an empty world."

"A little. I've got two universes to compare, so it shouldn't be too hard to find a similar universe, which should keep the risk at an acceptable level. And the more data we get, the easier it is to make predictions."

"But the risk remains."

"Some risk, yes. But it's worth it. Could you just ignore the possibility of travelling to other dimensions simply because it might be dangerous?" She cocked her head a little as she looked at him.

He chuckled, a little ruefully, and shook his head. "No, I couldn't."

Smiling, she hooked her arm into his, and they continued their walk.

"Are you going to ask your parents to move to the portal base?" he asked a few minutes later.

She sighed but didn't reply right away. After a moment, she said: "What would they do there? They can't work there, and, for the foreseeable future, we'll be based in the other world, where Gabriel and Ellen live." She sighed again. "No friends, no family other than me, no work…"

Well, they would have her. "They'd be safe there, though."

"That's true. But they've been safe for years here," she replied.

He nodded. "But that was when the wizards thought you had died. They were useless as leverage," he told her. She frowned at him, and he shrugged. "I'm just pointing out the obvious."

"I know. But I might as well ask them to hide, isolated, under the Fidelius Charm!" She shook her head. "Depending on me whenever they want to go outside? Travel? Meet friends and family? That wouldn't be much of a life."

Nor would it be much of a life for her. He nodded. "And it would give Dumbledore and Grindelwald more potential leverage."

She narrowed her eyes at him, then shook her head. "That's Moody talking. Dumbledore would never be as crude as to try to kidnap my parents to exert influence on me."

"Grindelwald might, though," Ron countered.

"I think he'd follow Dumbledore's lead in this."

Ron didn't agree, but it was all theoretical. "Dumbledore is no saint."

"I'm aware of that. And also that he'd probably use my parents in his plans anyway. Just with more finesse."

"And a possibly overly complicated plan." Ron snorted. "He is the type to be too clever for his own good."

"So far, his plans have worked out," Hermione retorted.

"Those we know of, at least."

She narrowed her eyes at him again. "I am aware that he's a spymaster and pursuing his own agenda - undoubtedly focused on amassing more money and power for himself, and finding a way to further extend his life."

"That's quite the motivation. And what will he do if he finds a method you won't tolerate?"

She raised her chin. "Then we'll have to stop him."

"He'll expect that."

"I know."

He snorted. "I'm looking forward to working on a project marked by such exceptional trust between its primary participant and backer."

"It's not as if we have a choice," she replied. "I have no doubt that Dumbledore has taken precautions in case we decide to move against him."

"Yes." Even if Rosengarten was a wild card, Dumbledore had had ample opportunities to construct a situation where mutual destruction was assured. Ron's parents still trusted him, for one thing. "But it's worth it."

She chuckled. "To visit other worlds?"

"And explore them." And the situation made Ron feel more useful, too. He was trained to deal with similar problems, after all. Moody had seen to that.

Hermione nodded with a smile. "Exactly. Imagine the possibilities."

Well, Ron had been doing that since he had been able to read.

*****​

"So, do you have an idea for dealing with the Dementors?" he asked on the way back to her parents' home - dinner would be ready soon.

"Nothing concrete, yet." She frowned, though not at him. "There's no known method of killing them - although I doubt that many methods were actually tested thoroughly, if at all. It's very difficult to concentrate next to a Dementor, which impedes spell-casting."

"What about explosives?"

"That has been tested. The Blasting Curse is one of the few spells that can be cast effectively from far away, and using it didn't kill the Dementors."

It was his turn to frown. "Perhaps the explosion wasn't powerful enough."

"That is a possibility. Few blasting curses can equal a large bomb, after all. But I don't think it's that easy. Someone's bound to have tried something similar," she replied.

"Lasers?"

"They're not especially vulnerable to light or heat. Sunlight doesn't hurt them. That's been tested extensively."

Ron felt a little stupid, trying to think of magical ways to hurt such monsters when he was a muggle, but it wasn't as if he had anything better to do. And he'd always liked brainstorming problems in roleplaying games. "What weaknesses do they have?"

"Well, they cannot stand being in the presence of a Patronus. And they also supposedly cannot stand warmer climates, either - which would explain their cold aura. They cannot pass through walls, nor can they fly, even though they move by gliding over the ground. Most spells are said to be unable to affect them, especially those charms and curses that affect the mind. And using Legilimency on a Dementor resulted in insanity in the wizard who attempted it."

Hmmm. That was a pretty long list already. Far from comprehensive, though. "Can they walk or glide over water?" They lived on an island, didn't they?

Hermione shook her head. "No, they can't. That's why they are confined to Azkaban. When they attacked us at the Black Lake, they went around the lake."

"What happens if they are pushed into water?"

She wrinkled her nose. "That's a good question. It should be tested - I don't think anyone's ever tried it. Or if they did, we don't know if they were successful." She started to grin. "I think my idea for dealing with Azkaban needs a little refining."

*****​

CI5 Headquarters, Westminster, London, February 15th, 2006

"Feels sort of nostalgic, doesn't it?" Ron asked as he stepped out of the car in front of CI5's headquarters.

Harry made a non-commital noise as he closed the car door, then locked the Bentley with a click of the remote. "It's been a while."

Ron was about to comment some more when he saw the door open ahead of them. He tensed, and his hand went under his jacket. Then he relaxed. It was just Dawlish.

The other police officer's eyes widened upon seeing them, but his surprise quickly gave way to a deep frown. "Potter. Weasley."

"Dawlish." Ron barely nodded at the man. Harry didn't even bother.

Dawlish pressed his lips together in return, then sneered. "A Bentley? Your girlfriend or your godfather loaning you the car, Potter?"

Ron almost sighed as he saw Harry tense in response. His friend really should have gotten used to this.

"Jealous, Dawlish?" Harry scoffed. "Because you don't have a girlfriend or a decent car?"

The other man clenched his teeth together. "Some of us work for a living, Potter."

"Like me," Ron added with a smile."And we're here for work." Only technically, of course.

"You're still suspended."

"We were on leave. Now we're back," Harry told him. "And you're in our way."

Ah, Ron's friend hadn't lost his touch - Ron expected to hear the sound of Dawlish cracking a tooth or three, the way the man's jaws were working.

But Dawlish stepped to the side. "Things changed while you were hiding. Don't expect a red carpet - or special treatment." With another sneer, he watched them enter.

"Dawlish kept his position," Ron commented as they made their way through the lobby towards the unfamiliar officer manning the desk there.

"Might've been demoted."

Ron nodded. He hadn't bothered keeping track of what was happening at their old - technically still current - office.

"Harry Potter and Ron Weasley," Harry announced. "We've got an appointment with the boss."

The woman blinked. "You mean the Chief Superintendent?" Before either of them could reply, she went on: "I'll need to see both of your IDs, sir."

Things had changed, Ron realised as he pulled out his ID. Granted, that was to be expected after the murders of Scrimgeour and Bones.

The woman looked at their IDs, then at them, and nodded. She didn't comment, though - she just checked the schedule. "Yes, you're expected. It's on the fifth floor, office number…"

"We know the way," Harry interrupted her with a nod.

"Got yelled at by Bones often enough," Ron added, flashing a smile at the woman before he followed Harry to the lift. "She's new," he said in a low voice as they waited for the cabin to arrive.

"I know," Harry replied. "Still, she should've known who we are."

"Oh? You like being famous now?" Ron snorted.

"We're here for an appointment with the boss. And we're fairly well known in CI5. She should've been aware of who we are, even if only after checking up on us."

"Maybe she did, and didn't want to appear to be friendly with the local pariahs?" Ron wasn't entirely serious, but it was possible.

The lift arrived before Harry could reply, and the doors opened to reveal Moody, leaning against the cabin's wall. "Potter. Weasley."

"Moody," Ron replied in the same flat tone.

"Here to pat us down?" Harry asked.

"The scanners in the doors have been enhanced," the man told them.

"And you trust them?" Ron raised his eyebrows as he stepped inside.

"I tested them. Extensively."

"Ah."

The door closed behind them, and Moody reached over to press the button for the fifth floor. "So, here to quit?"

"We quit months ago," Harry replied. "We're just here to update the paperwork."

Moody scoffed. "About time." Then he cocked his head and glared at them. "How did you hide your weapons?"

"What makes you think we're armed?" Harry shot back with the sort of innocent smile that had never worked on any authority figure Ron could remember.

It didn't work on Moody, either. He snorted. "I trained you. You're not stupid enough to think you're safe here - or in London - just because Putin's busy with a traitor now. And you're too damn smug, Potter."

Ron snorted in return. "Trade secret, Moody," he said.

Moody shook his head. "New gear from Phoenix Gruppe?"

Ron inclined his head. Technically true - if Hermione shrinking their weapons counted.

Moody snorted again. "So you're going mercenary."

"Bodyguard," Harry corrected him as they reached the fifth floor.

"Tell that to someone who doesn't know Dumbledore," Moody grunted, but nodded as they left, while remaining in the lift himself. "Good luck," he muttered, just before the doors closed again.

A new, middle-aged secretary greeted them. Her smile was polite. Very polite. She must have heard of them, then, and nothing good, probably. Ron almost chuckled, but they weren't here to make more enemies. Not deliberately, at least. "Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. We've got an appointment with Chief Superintendent Spikings," he said instead, flashing a smile at her.

"Ah, yes. Please have a seat; he'll be ready for you in a moment." She nodded towards the cheap plastic chairs lined up by the wall across from her desk and went back to typing before they could reply.

She had definitely heard of them. "I guess Dawlish talked about us," Ron muttered as he took a seat.

Harry snorted. "Or Moody."

Ron chuckled. "Oh, yes." What Moody considered praise would likely not be well-received by many others, and he didn't know how Spikings saw things. Ron knew that the man had led a special investigations unit for the Met and that he had been called out of retirement to 'sort out' CI5, but not much else.

Well, it didn't matter. They were here to quit, not to get their jobs back. He chuckled again - not having to worry about the new boss felt quite liberating, actually.

The secretary frowned at him, but the intercom on her desk buzzed before she could scold him. "The Chief Superintendent will see you now," she said.

"Thank you," Ron nodded at her with a bright smile as he got up.

Chief Superintendent Gordon Spikings was wearing a pinstripe suit, sported a thick moustache and was already glaring at them as they entered. That wasn't a good sign.

"Sir," Ron greeted him, followed by Harry a moment later.

"Harry Potter. Ronald Weasley." The old man stared at them for a moment. "Take a seat," he snapped, more an order than an invitation.

They sat down anyway. The office hadn't changed, Ron noticed. It was almost like it had been when Bones occupied it - just without her personal touches. Spikings hadn't brought any of his own, other than a picture on his desk, but Ron could only see the back of it. Probably a family picture.

"You've been at the centre of this whole mess since it started," the man began. "Some say you're responsible for it in the first place."

Probably Dawlish, Ron thought.

"Whoever said that is lying," Harry retorted. "We did our jobs, nothing else."

Spikings snorted in return, then patted a familiar-looking stack of files. "I've read your files. You're troublemakers. Cowboys." He stressed the last word as if it had a special meaning.

Ron cocked his head. "We were cleared after every investigation following a shooting."

The man's glare intensified. "I know how such things are handled."

Ron was sure the man had handled some of those things himself.

Harry shrugged.

"You're remarkably unconcerned about your future employment," Spikings went on. "Then again, you've been working for Mr Dumbledore for the last few months, haven't you?"

"Actually, we've been protecting Dr Granger, who, in turn, was working for Mr Dumbledore at a special research site," Ron pointed out. He managed not to smile as he did so.

Spikings scoffed at that. "You were suspended. Still are, actually." The man could do sarcasm better than Bones.

"That's why we're here," Harry said. "We've come to quit."

Ron nodded. There was no need to drag this out.

Spikings wasn't at all surprised. "Joining Dumbledore's private Secret Service, are you?"

"We're going to be private detectives," Ron told him. "And private security."

"Mercenaries, then," Spikings replied. "You wouldn't have travelled to Berlin recently, would you?"

That must be a wild guess. Ron did his best to look puzzled.

Harry shook his head. "No, why? We've been stuck in Scotland."

Spikings's eyes narrowed even more. He didn't push further, though. "And I expect you will be granted the right to carry firearms in your new business."

Ron shrugged. "Well, they're sort of necessary in our business. As our files demonstrate." He nodded at the stack of paper.

The old man shook his head. "As expected. But I'm warning you: If you cross the line in my jurisdiction, Dumbledore won't be able to protect you. I'll bring you in. It isn't the Cold War any more. Dumbledore isn't running things in MI6 any more, either. And there's only so much that bribes can do."

"I don't think there'll be any trouble," Harry said. But he was smiling a little too much.

Once more, the old man scoffed. "It's too bad you're quitting, actually. I think you would be perfect for investigating the sudden rash of stolen animals. Setting cowboys to track down animals seems oddly fitting."

Harry's smile widened, and Ron wanted to sigh. "Might I suggest Dawlish instead?" his friend asked. "He's perfect for talking to all those rich people missing their exotic pets."

"I would think you would be better suited, Mr Potter, as you might know many of them through your godfather."

"We don't exactly move in those circles, sir," Harry shot back.

For the first time, the man's lips twisted into the hint of a smile. "See Mrs Edgecombe about the necessary forms for your departure."

"Thank you," Ron said.

Harry grunted something as they got up.

*****​

"Dawlish must have spent a week bad-mouthing us non-stop," Ron said as they entered the lift again.

"I don't know," his friend disagreed. "I think the Chief Superintendent would have seen through such a transparent move. But our files are sort of… suggestive."

"That's CI5 for you," Ron replied. Moody had told them that the unit had been formed to use unorthodox tactics. Granted, the old man had usually said that after a run-in with Bones, who had been a very by-the-book officer.

"Yeah." Harry shrugged. "I also thought Spikings wasn't really talking about us. Or not just about us. 'Cowboys' - why would he call us that?"

"Because we used our guns more than all the officers in other units combined?" Ron asked.

Harry snorted in return. "Good point. Not that it matters."

"No, I guess it doesn't."

They reached the ground floor. Time to leave CI5.

"Ron! Harry! Tell me it's not true! Tell me there's been a mistake!"

Or not. "Hi, Colin," Ron said as Harry grunted something Colin might mistake for a greeting. "What's a mistake?"

"You've been listed in the system as quitting the service!" the younger man blurted out.

"Why do you know this?" Harry asked, eyes narrowing. "We only just filled out the forms."

"And how did you know we're here?"

"I've got a program that flags every mention of you in our system," Colin replied. "But that's not important. You're quitting? Why? You're our best officer. Best officers."

"Thank you," Ron drawled as sarcastically as he could. Not that Colin would notice.

Harry sighed. "Well…"

"Wait! Did Spikings tell you to quit or you'd be fired?" Colin gasped. "That's not fair! He just wants to kick everyone out and replace them with his own people! They've already replaced most of the brass!"

"Actually…"

"You can't let them do this, Harry! You need to fight them! I'm sure there's some dirt on Spikings that you can dig up and use to force him to reinstate you! We need you!" Colin took a step towards Harry, who took a step back.

"We're not going to blackmail a Chief Superintendent," Harry told Colin.

"But…"

"Spikings isn't the type to bow to pressure," Ron added. At least he thought so. "And he's retired, so he doesn't have anything to lose."

"But…"

"Look, Colin." Harry sighed. "We've been planning to quit for some time."

"But why?" Colin whined.

"We don't fit in any more," Ron said.

"That's not true! You're veterans! We need you!"

"Colin!" It was Ron's turn to sigh. "We've, ah, moved past CI5. We're about to go private."

"Oh! So the rumours are true! You're going to work for the Secret Service!"

"No, we aren't," Harry snapped. "We're gonna be private investigators. Detectives and bodyguards."

"But… you were hired by Albus Dumbledore, weren't you? 'C', the boss of MI6! He led the Secret Service during the Cold War! He's a legend!"

Ron glanced at Harry. It looked like they had finally found someone Colin liked almost as much as Harry.

"We might do some work for him," Harry admitted. "But we're not going to become secret agents or anything. We're going to be bodyguards."

"Harry'll be busy guarding Ginny," Ron said.

"Oh… right." As usual, Colin deflated when Ginny was mentioned. Or rather, her relationship with Harry.

"And Ron'll be guarding Hermione," Harry added.

"Dr Granger?" Colin perked up again. "Did you solve her case?"

"That's classified," Ron told him.

"Oh. The attack in Scotland! Of course - that was the last attempt by Russian oligarchs to silence her before she remembered who had kidnapped her! And the purge in Russia is Putin getting rid of them before they can implicate him!"

"Have you been visiting conspiracy sites again?" Ron asked.

"Only those that Luna recommends."

Ron ignored Harry's amused glance. "It's classified."

"That means yes!"

"No, it means that it's classified," Ron repeated himself.

Colin gasped again. "Oh! Say… do you need a lab technician in your new office?" He was looking at them - at Harry - with bright eyes and an expression so full of hope, Ron almost felt bad for shooting him down. Almost. Ginny would kill Colin after a week, tops. Or she'd kill Ron. So he told Colin: "Sorry, but we're focusing on bodyguarding to start with - and cheating spouses. We won't need a forensics lab."

"Oh… but I can do surveillance as well!"

Yes, Ginny would definitely kill him. Or Harry would do it.

"Sorry, Colin, but we're starting small. Just the two of us. And we'll be, well… guarding our girlfriends to begin with," Harry said with a fake smile.

"Oh. I guess you don't need a lab technician, then."

"Sorry." Ron nodded, patted the bloke on the shoulder, and left the building.

Harry all but ran after him.

"I'm not going to miss CI5, actually," his friend told him when they reached the Bentley. "It wouldn't be the same, anyway."

"With Spikings? Probably not." Ron replied. "He's used to running things his way, I think." And with CI5 disgraced by the murders of Scrimgeour and Bones as well as Yaxleys's betrayal, Spikings would get his way. That was how things worked.

"Yes. And I don't want to work our way up for a year or two until we can do things our way again," Harry agreed. "Let's go."

*****​

Greenwich, London, Britain, Wizarding World, February 15th, 2006

"...and then we left. He looked like a kicked puppy," Ron finished his account as he sat at the Granger's dinner table.

"Like a kicked stalker, you mean," Harry said. "He had written a program that hacked the CI5 systems so he would be notified as soon as I appeared in the system."

"That sounds like the Colin I knew," Hermione said with a faint smile. "In his first year, he followed Harry around with a camera and tried to take pictures of him whenever he could."

"That's our Colin!" Ron grinned as Harry groaned.

"At least he's still alive," Hermione said, her smile vanishing.

This time, Ron did feel bad about brushing off Colin. Somewhat.

*****

"'Gas Explosion'," Harry said, spitting the words out.

"'Whole family died in fire'," Ron added, dropping the newspaper on the table in their tent.

"We told them to move," she said through clenched teeth. "Why didn't they leave their home and go into hiding?" The Creeveys should have known better than that. Two students - one of whom didn't even have his O.W.L.s yet - stood no chance against the Death Eaters. Even if they had trained with the Boy-Who-Lived.

She bit her lip. She couldn't say that - Harry would blame himself. And they couldn't have that. Their lack of success at finding the last Horcrux was already bad enough. They didn't need Harry growing even moodier. She sighed. "Their parents probably didn't want to move, and they didn't manage to convince them in time."

"And they stayed as well, until it was too late," Ron added. "I hope they at least got a few of the bastards. We trained them well enough, didn't we?"

She closed her eyes. She didn't need to see Harry to know that he was flinching.

*****​

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 61: The School

Greenwich, London, Britain, Wizarding World, February 16th, 2006

"Bad dream?" Ron asked when he noticed that Hermione was awake. It was a bit after eight - late for the two of them. In Scotland, they'd have already eaten breakfast and would be returning from their morning run around the Black Lake.

She shook her head, her wild mane obscuring her face for a moment as it whipped round her face. "No. Just… old memories."

War memories, then - as he had suspected. He knew the expression she usually wore when thinking of the war.

"Why do you ask?" She turned her head to look at him.

"You were tossing and turning in your sleep," he told her.

She blushed. "Sorry about that."

"It's not your fault." And it wasn't as if she'd hurt him. He reached over and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "Hey," he added after a moment, to break the sombre mood, "do you think someone's going to call us immoral?"

"Immoral?" She blinked.

"Well, technically, you're my employer. Or you'll be my employer. And we're sleeping together, despite the power imbalance."

She chuckled. "Technically, I'm employing your firm. And I don't think it matters if you started your relationship before the business relationship."

"Ah, right. But that reminds me: We'll have to found a firm for this." More paperwork. Ron had hoped he would have fewer, not more, forms to fill out when he left the police.

"Good idea," Hermione agreed. "That will make it neater for the government. And make it harder for anyone to put pressure on you thanks to the limited liability."

"Well, no one should attempt that, once you've cast your charm," he replied.

She sighed. "I really should get back to work as soon as possible. The longer I take, the greater the risk of someone making a move. Putin... or our own government. Maybe even the US, if someone in the government told them about my supposed new technology."

"Well, if they did leak the intel, they'll be in hot water once that's revealed as a cover." At the very least, the Americans would consider them compromised. They might even take revenge of some sort for, supposedly, having been played for fools.

"We can only hope that it works."

She had sounded far more confident in the discussions with the others, Ron noted. And while her doubts were cause for some concern, it was also nice to see her voice her doubts and open up to him.

"Worst case, we pack up and move to your world before looking for a world without Weasleys or Grangers. Or settle in your world. It wouldn't be ideal, but it wouldn't be the end of the world. Except, perhaps, for Percy."

She snorted, then shook her head. "Really, Ron! The consequences of my potential failure for your family are hardly amusing!"

He laughed, even though she was obviously concerned. "You're right. But it wouldn't be the end of the world."

"Unless Rosengarten is validated by my opening a portal to hell or a similarly dangerous place," she said, sounding gloomy again.

"Hell? Do you mean a world full of lava, or the other place?"

"Both could be possible - well, reasonable facsimiles, at least."

"Hell's real?"

"No. I mean, no one - no wizard or witch - has found such a place. Or, if they have, returned to tell the tale. But magic certainly has the potential to create a place that would be indistinguishable from Hell as most people think of it," she explained. "And the existence of souls, at least, has been proven."

"I know." Tales of souls being split or devoured pretty much implied that. "But Hell?"

"No one knows what the afterlife looks like - or if there's one at all. Ghosts are the imprints left behind in death, not the souls of dead people returned. There was supposedly a magical stone that could summon the souls of the dead, but no one, ever, saw it being used - or if they did and it worked, they didn't bother to ask that question. And, well - that's pretty much the most obvious question anyone would ask a soul visiting from the afterlife, so I am inclined to assume that the Resurrection Stone, as it was called, doesn't actually exist. Or doesn't do what the myth claims."

"Ah." That was, in a way, quite reassuring. Wizards and witches didn't have an advantage there, at least. They would be facing death with the same ignorance and uncertainty as muggles such as Ron himself.

Not that he planned on dying anytime soon, of course.

*****​

Hogwarts, Wizarding World, February 17th, 2006

Hagrid was the tallest man Ron had ever seen. He made André the Giant look small. And scrawny. The wooden hut had seemed tall and imposing, its door as tall as a gate, but with the man standing in front of it, it looked almost tiny in comparison.

"Hermione!" And his voice matched his stature. Not quite as loud as a gunshot, but it came close. "So glad ter finally see yeh. Again, I mean!"

"Hello, Hagrid," Hermione replied with a smile - and a slightly guilty expression, Ron noted. "This is Ronald, my boyfriend. He's related to the Weasleys."

"Right! The muggle Weasley!" The man stuck his hand out towards Ron.

"Yes. Pleased to meet you." Seeing no way to refuse without appearing rude, Ron took the man's hand. And winced when Hagrid squeezed like a vice. "Hermione told me a lot about you."

"She did?" Hagrid beamed at both of them. "We've bin friends for years - since she started at Hogwarts! Helped me a lot, she did, with all sorts o' problems. Got into a lot o' trouble, too, though!" The giant - half-giant, according to Hemione - chuckled. Ron was almost sure he felt the rumbling sound in his solar plexus.

"I'm sorry, I should've visited sooner, but…" She shrugged. "When I recovered my memories, I had to deal with my parents, Harry and Ron, the Ministry…"

"Oh, don't worry about it - we've all heard about the commotion yer return made." Hagrid grinned. "I've babysat the li'l ones a few times so Harry an' Ron could go meet yeh. But come in, please! I've got cakes an' tea an' sandwiches! Not rock cakes, though - the kids can' eat 'em yet, so I've bin makin' softer cakes. Not as crunchy, bu' the kids like 'em."

Ron saw Hermione sigh with relief as soon as Hagrid turned his back. Ron, shaking his hand to get the feeling back in it - if anyone attacked just then, he wouldn't be able to hold, much less fire, his gun - was relieved as well. Hermione had warned him three times about those cakes. With drastic examples of the damage they did to teeth.

The inside of the hut was neater than Hermione had described it. Far neater and cosier.

"Did you redecorate?" Hermione asked as they took their seats at a table that was a little too tall for them.

"Yeh noticed?" The giant beamed at them. "Ever since I got me wand back, after the war, I've bin remodellin' a little. It's so much easier with a wand." As if to underline his words, he pulled out a large baton, waved it and the stove in the corner lit up. "Tea'll be ready soon."

"You got your wand back?" Hermione's face lit up. "That's great news!"

"Yeh didn' know? Yes, Harry an' Ron pushed fer a retrial. Wizengamot took a year, but finally decided tha' I was innocent, so I got me wand back. Well, a new wand, me old one was broken." He glanced to the side, where a huge umbrella was sticking out of what looked like… not the stump of an elephant's foot, but…

"Is that a troll leg?" Hermione asked.

"Yes. It's from Harry's place. He said he didn' want it any more. Reminded him o' Tonks, yeh know."

And there went the good mood. Hermione nodded with a sad expression. "She always stumbled over it."

"Yes. He wanted ter destroy it, bu'…" Hagrid shrugged, causing his chair to creak loudly. "Wouldn' have been right ter throw everything away. And it's a perfec'ly fine umbrella stand. Don' make 'em like tha' any more."

With good reason - the thing was hideous and stood out in the otherwise nice room.

"So, I've also heard you're teaching again," Hermione said after a moment.

"Yes!" The half-giant smiled, showing large teeth. "With the war over, I returned ter teachin'. And with the Ministry's changes, I can teach the tykes about all the interestin' creatures I can get!"

"That's great," Hermione lied.

"Isn' it? Last year I had a baby wyvern as a class project - still visits me from time ter time; she's livin' in the Forest. I should organise a mate fer her in a year or so, when she's mature."

How big was an adult wyvern? Judging by Hermione's forced smile, very big. "Speaking of creatures, are you also breeding new creatures?" she asked anyway.

"Tha's illegal!" Hagrid replied.

"Unless you've got permission from the Ministry," Hermione pointed out.

"I've asked, bu' they didn' grant me permission - I wanted ter cross the wyvern with a fire salamander. Would've bin like a cute tiny dragon. Ah, here's the tea!" he said as the tea kettle started whistling.

As the tea was served - with a huge cake that looked and smelled delicious - Hermione leaned forward. "I've heard it's very difficult to cross species that are of very different sizes."

"Oh, yes. There's a trick ter it, yeh know." Hagrid nodded.

"Really?" This time, Hermione didn't have to fake her smile, Ron noticed. "Could you tell me more?"

*****​

"...and tha's how yeh cross-breed creatures of wildly diff'rent sizes. Me Da taught me tha', in case I ever fell in love with a giant."

"I see…" Hermione slowly nodded as she finished taking notes. "That was very informative, Hagrid. Thank you."

A little too informative, in Ron's opinion. He could've done without knowing so many details about the sexuality of giants. Or Manticores. He nodded anyway - Hagrid was what would be called a 'gentle soul' in some books. And a 'mad scientist' in others.

"Bu' remember: It's illegal ter breed a new creature without permission from the Ministry!"

"I assure you, I won't break that law," Hermione replied.

"Good. Yeh don' wan' ter go ter Azkaban. Trust me, yeh really don' wan' ter." The half-giant shuddered.

"Yes. That the Ministry is still using Dementors is a disgrace!" Hermione spat. "They should've destroyed those abominations long ago!"

"Can' kill 'em, Hermione. They aren' really alive. Not like creatures - normal creatures, I mean."

"Alive or not, everything can be destroyed. Even spells," Hermione replied.

"Not Dementors! We tried everything in the war. Everything!" Hagrid shook his head, his huge hands gripping his stone mug so tightly, Ron thought he heard it creak.

"What about drowning?" Ron asked.

"They don' breathe."

"But they don't swim, either," Hermione retorted. "I know that. They can't glide over water - they went around when…"

"Jus' because they don' like water doesn' mean it hurts 'em," Hagrid told her. "Like bathing a cat won' kill it."

"Even though the attempt might kill you," Ron said, forcing himself to chuckle despite his disappointment. He had been quite proud that he had thought of something wizards had missed. Or at least had helped think of a way to kill Dementors.

"Well, water still serves to contain them," Hermione replied. Slowly, her lips twisted into a nasty grin.

"Let's talk abou' something else," Hagrid said, shuddering again. "I still need ter give yeh the tour!" He downed a full cup of hot tea in one gulp, then stood. "Let's go!"

*****​

Definitely a mad scientist, Ron thought half an hour and four far too close encounters with dangerous creatures later: a wyvern, Fire Crabs, Hippogriffs and even those flying horses fed on fresh meat which looked like undead demons. He could handle them, though. All of them. But visiting the Acromantula colony? An entire colony of car-sized intelligent spiders who were known to hunt humans? He had bowed out of that. Firmly and quickly. After his encounter with a giant spider in Albania, the last thing he wanted was to meet intelligent magical giant spiders.

But Hermione had gone with Hagrid, which left Ron cooling his heels by Hagrid's hut. And looking at Hogwarts. Now that he was inside the Muggle-Repelling Charms, he could see the real castle instead of some ruins.

And it was a magical castle, indeed. Disney would be jealous of the many turrets and the way it looked both real and yet magical. Or that might be his imagination taking liberties. Either way, it was a great sight. The walls, the gate, the greenhouses at the edge of the yard, the students on brooms… Oh. They had spotted him - they were flying towards him.

"Mr Weasley!" the first witch yelled as she jumped off the broom a few yards above the ground. "What are you doing here?"

She looked as young as she sounded - at most fourteen, Ron would guess. The broom slowly floated down, and she grabbed it without looking at it.

"Duh! You're visiting Hagrid, aren't you?" another witch, about the same age, said as she landed on the ground and dismounted.

"Yes, we are," Ron replied as two more teenagers - wizards this time - descended. All of them had red and gold badges - Gryffindor, then.

"'We'?"

"I'm here with Hermione," he told them.

"Oh! She's here?" the first witch blurted out with a gasp. "Hermione Granger?"

Ron nodded. "They're visiting the Acromantula colony." He noted with some satisfaction that all four kids shuddered at the news.

"Oh. Why aren't you wearing your Auror robes?" The apparent spokeswitch asked.

"Because he isn't on duty, duh!" her friend said.

He smiled at them. "Actually, it's because I'm not an Auror. I'm the muggle Ron Weasley."

"Oh!" The first witch blushed. "We should've noticed - I mean, we shouldn't have assumed that just because you're here, you'd be a wizard."

"Yes, since we know Miss Granger is living with a muggle. I mean, with you," the second girl added. "I'm Hyacinth, by the way. Hyacinth Moon."

"Claire Smith!" the first witch introduced herself. "But not from the wizarding family - I'm a muggleborn!"

"James Nott. Very distantly related to those Notts."

"Brian Wilbury." The boy nodded at Ron, then cocked his head. "So, what are you doing here? I mean, apart from waiting for Miss Granger and Professor Hagrid."

"We're visiting Hagrid. Since he was always babysitting, Hermione hadn't seen him yet."

"Oh!"

Claire took a step closer. "So what do you think of magic? Was it a shock when you found out? When Miss Granger recovered her memories?"

"Well, I like magic, but it was a shock." He had been dying, after all, when Hermione had revealed magic. "But it all worked out."

So far.

"Nice! My parents were shocked for a week after McGonagall visited! She turned the table into a pony - Mum wanted to sell it afterwards."

"How did Miss Granger show magic to you? I thought she didn't have a wand, did she?" Claire would've made a good interrogator.

"That was after she got a new wand," Ron lied.

"Oh. Where did she get a new wand? Did she visit Ollivander's?"

Ron was starting to feel like he was being interrogated. "Ah, you'll have to ask her that yourself," he said. Best to change the subject before he was caught in a lie - he didn't think Hermione would want others to know about her cache. Especially not if that might set off a search for other such caches amongst Hogwarts students. "So… you're in Gryffindor?"

"Yes!"

"Like Harry Potter!" Hyacinth added.

"Ah." Ron nodded. "The best house, hmm?"

"Of course!" Claire nodded fervently. The other kids agreed.

"Were you playing Quidditch?"

"Ah… no. We were just flying around. It's fun," James said.

"Have you ever flown on a broom?" Claire asked.

"Dummy! He's a muggle!" Hyacinth scoffed.

"Yet I have flown on a broom," Ron informed them. "Although it wasn't a fast one - nor did it go as fast as it could go. Just for fun, too." Technically, he'd flown a broom in combat, if you counted Moscow, but that had to stay secret as well.

"Oh! What kind of broom was it?" James asked.

"Quidditch fanatic," Ron heard Hyacinth mutter.

"It belonged to the Weasleys," he told them. "I didn't really pay attention to the brand," he added with a smile.

James looked shocked. "You didn't care about the type?"

"As long as it flew?" Ron shrugged.

The kid glared at him as if Ron had just admitted to a crime. No, these were Gryffindors - they probably would've been less shocked by a crime.

But Claire used the sudden, sullen silence from James to step forward again and take over. "So, what do you think of Hogwarts?"

"I haven't seen anything of the school, yet," he admitted. "We came straight to Hagrid's hut."

"We can give you a tour! We know the castle inside and out!" the girl eagerly offered.

Alone with four wizarding kids? Yeah, right. Contrary to what some people claimed, Ron had enough common sense to politely refuse the offer. "I'd like to, but Hermione should be back soon. I'll wait for her and Hagrid to return."

"Aw."

"Can we wait with you?" Brian asked. "Talking to a muggle would really help with Muggle Studies."

James was still glaring, but Claire nodded emphatically. "Yes!"

"You're a muggleborn." Hyacinth huffed. "This should be old news for you!"

Claire shrugged. "So? He's from another generation; everyone knows things were different back then."

Ron pressed his lips together. He wasn't old. But they were kids - dumb kids who didn't know any better. So he smiled. "Shoot."

"What?"

"He means, start asking questions," Claire explained. "It's something older muggles say."

Fortunately, the questions Brian asked - he seemed honestly interested in learning about muggles - were unproblematic, and Ron ignored or deflected the more daring questions from Claire and James's snide comments. And then Hermione and Hagrid returned, and the kids' attention switched to them at once.

"Miss Granger! Professor Hagrid!"

"You look like your portrait! Only older!"

Ron grinned at Hermione's expression at hearing Claire's blurted-out greeting. "These are Claire, Hyacinth, James and Brian," he introduced the students. "Gryffindors."

"I can see that," she told him before nodding at the children. "Hello, everyone."

"What are yeh doin' here?" Hagrid spoke up. "Are yeh here fer the feedin'?"

"Feeding?" Brain asked.

"No, we just saw Mr Weasley standing here and flew over to see what he was doing," James explained - he had dropped his attitude quite quickly once Hermione and Hagrid had arrived, Ron noted.

"Oh. Well, we've already fed the Thestrals, anyway," Hagrid said. "Though yeh probably can' see 'em anyway," he added with a smile. "So yeh'd jus' see the meat gettin' devoured."

"They look nice," Hermione said. "And you can pet them."

"Nice?" Claire blinked.

"Like undead horses with bats' wings," Ron explained.

"Ah."

Hermione was frowning at him, so Ron smiled widely. "So, what about a tour of the school?"

"Oh, yes!" Brian said, nodding rapidly. "We can show you everything!"

"You dummy!" Hyacinth muttered. "This is Hermione Granger! She knows Hogwarts!"

"And her portrait is at Hogwarts, too!" James added.

Hermione winced again.

*****​

The tour was very impressive - and a little exhausting. The castle didn't have a single lift, and the stairs had a tendency to move and divert you if you didn't pay attention - or so Hermione explained. At least wizards and witches couldn't apparate inside the castle, either.

"There you are!"

He turned his head and saw Hermione's portrait waving at them from what was actually a picture of a Scottish landscape with a rather annoyed-looking shepherd in the background.

"Hello! I've been looking for you ever since the Headmistress informed me of your presence!"

"Hello," Ron replied.

Hermione nodded. "We're on our way to see the Headmistress."

"You weren't in the library. Why not? It's the best place in Hogwarts! I spend hours there just looking at the books. If I could actually read them, I'd never leave!" the portrait told them.

Hermione sighed. "The library is nice, but we didn't come to Hogwarts for the library. Not today, at least."

The portrait made a gasping noise. "What could be more important than the library? Merlin's beard! Is there a new crisis? Are the students in danger?"

"No, no, we're just here to visit," Ron quickly told it.

The portrait looked confused. "Really? And you skipped the library? Are you sure you're not sick?"

Ron saw Hermione press her lips together and clench her teeth. "I really need to have another word with my friends about my portrait."

*****​

The Headmistress's office was quite different from Hermione's descriptions of her Dumbledore's office. There were no shelves full of mysterious knick-knacks, no stand with a moulting phoenix, no selection of sweets 'that rivalled Honeydukes'. And no bookshelves with an eclectic mix of forbidden tomes and trivial, even muggle, books.

No, the Headmistress's office was plain. Very plain. The only decor was the many portraits of former Headmasters and a broom mounted on the wall. While the shelves were filled with books, they were organised like in a library, down to the small tag with a code on each book's spine. The desk was spacious and elegant - but clear of anything but parchment and a quill.

All in all, it looked rather mundane. Not too different from the Headmaster's office in his old school. Which he had visited often enough to remember perfectly, for a variety of reasons, mostly good ones.

Though the portraits in that office hadn't moved, of course. And there certainly hadn't been a moving portrait of a teenage girl with wild hair that was cheerfully using her elbows to push the other portraits out of her way so she could have the best view of the office.

And the Headmaster of Ron's old boarding school had never smiled at him like McGonagall smiled at Hermione.

"Miss Granger! I'm so happy to see you at Hogwarts!" She nodded at Ron. "Mr Weasley."

Old man Madison had, however, smiled like that at parents and alumni, hoping to secure donations, Ron remembered.

"I'm very happy to be here, Professor," Hermione replied. "I mean, Headmistress."

"Ah, I still think of myself as a professor." The old witch sighed. "And I keep expecting Albus to step into the office and ask me what I'm doing here."

Ron nodded and wondered, privately, how McGonagall would react to meeting his world's Dumbledore. "It looks like you're doing well," he said. "The tour of the school was very impressive."

"But Minerva!" the portrait chose that moment to butt in, "Hermione didn't stay in the library! Something's wrong!"

McGonagall smiled, clearly amused, as Hermione frowned. "I love books, but I don't love them to the point of spending most of my time in a library," she told the portrait.

"Why not? You can read books! All the books you could want! I can't read the books - not even painted ones," it complained. "I need someone to turn the pages for me, or at least cast a page-turning spell on a book in front of my painting."

Hermione's eyes widened. "You can't read painted books? Of course you can't; they're empty. Oh, that's really bad." She frowned. "And you were told to spend all your free time in a library?"

"Yes?"

"I really need to talk to Harry and Ron about what they taught you," she said with a scowl.

"They meant well, Miss Granger," McGonagall interjected. "And they were in mourning."

"Still! It's been seven years." Hermione shook her head. "They didn't even think about… this problem?" She looked at the portrait. "We have to talk."

"Yes!"

"Not right now, though."

The portrait made a sound of disappointment, and its expression was the same as Hermione's when she was denied something she really wanted.

Ron knew better than to point that out, of course. McGonagall was already looking at them a little strangely - as if she was wary.

Hermione sighed. "I'm not about to start a campaign for portraits' rights, Professor. I'm fully aware that they aren't truly sapient."

"Hey! That's discrimination!" the portrait protested.

"Even though some might have been taught to dispute that," Hermione went on. "Still, as one of the few witches whose portrait was awakened despite me still being alive, I feel I'm in the unique position to argue that how a portrait is treated reflects on the reputation of the witch or wizard depicted."

"Ah, I see. You will argue that a portrait treated with negligence or ridicule is an attack on the depicted's honour."

"More or less, yes."

"What? Who's attacking me?" the portrait asked.

"No one," Hermione said. "But you should be treated better."

"Of course, since I'm you!"

"No, you aren't," Hermione mumbled.

"Now, I don't assume you visited merely to talk to your portrait, Miss Granger," McGonagall commented after a moment.

"I wanted to visit Hagrid - I've missed him on several occasions since he was babysitting for my friends. However, apart from that and showing Ron my old school, I'd also like to ask if I could peruse the library for a research project."

"Of course you can, Miss Granger." McGonagall smiled. "After all, I still expect you to take your N.E.W.T.s. Whatever employment options you're pursuing, be it research, a position at the Ministry, politics or teaching, you'll need your N.E.W.T.s."

Ron noticed how the woman smiled when she mentioned teaching. So that was McGonagall's angle - she was trying to recruit Hermione. That would also explain why she was granting her access to the library without asking for any details.

Well, McGonagall had been this world's Dumbledore's right hand, so that was to be expected.

*****​

Black Lake, Scotland, February 18th, 2006

"I think McGonagall wants to hire you," Ron said once they were back in their room at the lab.

"Hire me?" Hermione blinked and put down on the bed the notes she had been sorting. "Oh. You think she wants me to become a teacher?"

He shrugged. "Yes."

"She should know me better than that." She shook her head. "I guess that's to be laid at the feet of the portrait - of its education, at least - as well."

"You never tutored students in school?" Ron had a hard time imagining that.

"I helped my friends. And as a prefect, I helped the lower years - and higher years."

"See?" He grinned.

She rolled her eyes in return and grabbed her notes again. "That doesn't make me a teacher. It just means I wasn't the sort of student who only cared about her own grades."

"Well, perhaps she hopes teaching would keep you out of politics?" Ron shrugged again as he tried to make his comment sound casual.

"That's not her style," Hermione said with a frown. "She's no Dumbledore."

"Yours or ours?" He stretched out on the bed, after pushing one of her sheets filled with notes away.

"Either," she replied, her frown deepening.

"She's been Headmistress for seven years," he pointed out.

"Yes. But she's still the same strict teacher I remember. If she wanted to recruit me, she'd ask." Hermione nodded firmly.

Ron didn't quite agree, but it wasn't worth arguing about. As far as plots went, this one was rather harmless.

*****​

Unnamed Highlands, Scotland, February 20th, 2006

"Once more into the breach," Ron said as they appeared in the familiar snowy field.

"It's actually 'once more unto the breach'," Hermione said. "And it means to try again, not to literally fight in a breach."

"I like my quote better," he replied with a smile. "It's more dramatic."

She snorted. "I guess so. It's not correct, though."

"Are you sure you don't want to teach?" He smiled at her to take the sting out of his comment.

Judging by her slight frown, he hadn't completely succeeded. "I know I don't want to teach." She sighed. "Teaching my portrait is bad enough, and it is very eager to learn."

"But it's a special case, isn't it?" He shrugged. "If I had to teach a virtual intelligence that thought it was me… well, it's not the same as teaching Ginny how to handle a rifle."

"I think Harry did most of the teaching there."

"He spent more time with her, but I'm not sure if he taught her more," Ron retorted as they walked over to what looked to him like an empty spot at the foot of the hill.

Until a door appeared in the empty air.

"By the way, is the portrait making progress?"

Hermione sighed. "Slowly."

Which meant 'very slowly'.

They stepped inside. "Luna? Luna? We're back with notes from Hagrid!" Hermione called out.

Ron looked around - the warehouse looked like…

"Close the door! Before they escape!"

He shut the door without thinking, then turned, tense. If Luna - either Luina - yelled like that, you couldn't hesitate.

"What happened?" Hermione asked, a dimly glowing shield surrounding her.

"Ah, just a few birds that escaped their cages," Luna said.

"Which proves that we shouldn't put them into cages," wizarding Luna added - she was looking up, not at them, Ron noted.

"It proves that we need better cages," Luna retorted. "It's too dangerous for them, otherwise."

"As long as they can apparate, they can always escape any danger," her counterpart said.

"But they would die in the cold outside," Luna told her.

"Apparate… Merlin's beard!" Hermione exclaimed. "Did you bring Diricawls here?"

"Diricawls?" Ron asked in a whisper.

"Magical birds that can apparate. They look like dodos," she explained.

"Oh." He blinked. "Can they fly?"

"No, just like dodos."

"Why is everyone looking up, then?" he asked.

"Because they can climb," Luna said. "They're smart and know we'd search the floor. There's one!" she pointed at a corner.

Wizarding Luna flicked her wand - and her voice filled the warehouse. "Come to us, little Diricawl. We mean you no harm. Soon, you'll be in your natural habitat - and you'll have all the space to explore you could want!"

Hermione sighed, then waved her own wand. A cage appeared around the bird. A flick of her wand later, it started to float down towards them.

"Hermione! That could traumatise poor Pedro!"

"Of course she would name them," Hermione muttered. "Sorry," she said a little more loudly. "But it's not safe for them to be outside their habitats."

"But they don't know that - they want to be free!"

"They'll live," Hermione said. "And they're safe this way."

Wizarding Luna pouted, but Luna nodded in agreement. "It's just temporary," she said. "We'll be taking them to Mauritius soon."

"Luna," Hermione said, and Ron saw that she was struggling to control herself. "Why are you planning to release magical animals into this world?"

"Because this world's Diricawl died out, of course!"

"They're not the same birds. Dodos weren't magical," Hermione said.

"Well, we can't know that," wizarding Luna replied. "The muggles think they're extinct in our world, too."

"But if they were magical, then they wouldn't have died out."

"Yes." Wizarding Luna nodded.

"Did you check?"

"It's a hypothesis," the witch replied with a pout. "But in any case, there's a missing spot for a bird on Mauritius, and filling it won't hurt anyone!"

"This world isn't set-up to cope with magic," Hermione pointed out.

"Diricawls don't have natural predators in our world, either, so it'll be fine!"

"You can't know that."

"We'll take precautions," Luna said. "Like with the portal."

"But…" Hermione closed her mouth. "Fine," she spat.

Ron didn't comment.

*****​

"I guess I can't complain about my own words being turned back against me," Hermione said after they had left the hidden warehouse again.

"But you'll do so anyway," he told her.

She sighed. "There's a difference between exploring the multiverse after taking all reasonable precautions and deliberately introducing a magical species to this world."

She was correct, but… "I'm not sure the dodo will be much of a threat, magical or otherwise," he said.

"Except for their ability to apparate. Imagine what scientists will do once they observe them. And they will - once the first 'dodos' are sighted, everyone will want to capture one to study. And then they'll escape using Apparition."

"Ah." He winced. "But in your world, the zoologists never caught on to that, did they?"

"Thanks to magical interference."

"The precautions Luna mentioned."

"Yes." She spat the word out.

"Best wait until we know what precautions they are taking?"

"Yes."

He suppressed a grin. Hermione might loathe it, but she understood that it would be unfair otherwise.

She sighed. "Let's go back to the lab. I have more research to do."

"How goes the Fidelius Charm research?" he asked as he held out his hand.

"I'm progressing as expected. It's only the exact wording that's left now," she said. "And actually casting the spell - that's a little tricky since you can't exactly cast it repeatedly to practise."

"Ah." Nothing new, then. "I can try to help with the wording." That wasn't magical, after all.

She looked at him, then nodded. "Yes."

Then they disapparated.

*****​

Black Lake, Scotland, February 21st, 2006

The wording needed to hide the existence of the portal, but not just a specific portal. And that Hermione was responsible. 'Hermione Granger has found a way to travel to other dimensions'? No, people would still know that she's doing research, and they would connect it to the attacks on her. The attacks themselves couldn't be hidden - far too many knew about them. 'Hermione's research into other dimensions is a valid avenue of research'? No. Too vague. People could still stumble upon the truth.

Ron sighed. This was more difficult than he had expected. Although he should have expected that since Hermione had trouble finding the best wording. Something like 'Hermione Granger, working with Albus Dumbledore's support, has found a way to travel to other dimensions'? No. "Other universes exist, and Hermione Granger found a way to travel to them'?

He scribbled it down, even though it wouldn't work. Perhaps if he used the example Hermione had told him as a base? "There is a secret base in Scotland where Hermione Granger and her friends and allies use her research to travel to other universes'?"

"Not as easy as it seemed, hmm?"

He frowned at Hermione. "I've not yet begun to really work on it."

"Working on mangling quotes?"

"Of course. This is all about wording, isn't it?" He grinned at her surprised expression before it was replaced with a pout. "Hey," he added, "I cut my teeth twisting wishes in roleplaying games."

"That makes me feel so much better," she replied. "Except not."

He chuckled, but before he could comment further, the door opened, and Dumbledore entered the lab. The old man was beaming at them. "I've got good news," he told them. "We've managed to acquire the gold we'll need to pay off the Ministry of Magic."

Behind him, Ron saw Harry and Sirius push a trolley with a rather large chest on it. Oh.

He glanced at Hermione, but she looked distracted.

Ah.

*****​

That was a lot of gold. She had heard the stories, so to speak. She had even been told the number of Galleons. But to see so much gold, on the vault's floor, stacks of gold next to heaps of coins… "Can I call you Scrooge McDuck?" she asked, snickering to hide her reaction.

Harry laughed at her feeble joke. "I thought the same when I saw it for the first time."

"'Scrooge McDuck'?" Ron looked confused.

"A comic book character. Richest duck on earth," Harry told him.

"'Richest duck'?"

"It's a comic book series," Hermione told him. "Very famous too. You've never heard of Disney?"

"Oh, the movies!" Her friend nodded. "We saw a few in the village. But I never saw a duck in any of them."

"Ah. That character appears mostly on TV," Harry explained.

"And in comic books," Hermione added. "But enough of that. We're not here to discuss Disney, but to grab enough gold to finance our mission." And provide for various emergencies.

"Hermione!" Ron frowned at her. "It's Harry's gold! You can't just treat it as yours."

She wasn't treating it as hers - but Harry had volunteered the contents of his vault to finance their mission, hadn't he? And they had made a plan and a budget, in advance!

"It's OK," Harry said with a wry grin. "It's not as if I'll be able to use the gold should we fail, will I?"

She exchanged a glance with Ron, who winced, before schooling her features. "Indeed."

Sometimes, Harry's black humour was a little much.

*****​

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 62: The Archives

Black Lake, Scotland, February 21st, 2006

Hermione shook her head with a smile. "I've seen more gold in one place, but only once." She nodded at the chest that Harry and Sirius had opened after pushing it into the lab.

"Oh?" Dumbledore looked honestly surprised. That didn't have to mean anything, of course, given his skills in misdirection and lying.

"I visited Harry's - my Harry's - vault in Gringotts when we needed money for our mission during the war," she said.

Ron resisted the sudden urge to whistle. That must have been a lot of gold. The other Harry was probably richer than Ron's friend. Perhaps even richer than Sirius.

"More than this? How much more? And what was the price for gold at the time?" Sirius asked.

"Sirius!" Harry hissed.

"What? I'm curious about whether I'm still the richest member of our family if we count our dimensional counterparts." The man grinned.

"Harry spent a lot of his gold on rebuilding Wizarding Britain," Hermione said. "That includes Sirius's fortune, which he inherited."

"He didn't give the gold away, did he?" Sirius, for all his usual casual stance towards his own wealth, looked shocked.

"You might call it long-term investing. But he won't get a return for several years - or at all, in some cases," Hermione told him.

"So, technically, he might be richer, but he's strapped for cash, and should he be forced to liquidate his investments, he'd take a huge loss?" Sirius asked.

"That sounds about right," Hermione agreed. "Some investments were more like donations, anyway."

"So that means I'm still the richest member of our extended family!" Sirius beamed.

"And the vainest as well," Harry said. "As if it mattered."

"Of course it matters!" Sirius shook his head. "Money matters. Influence matters. If Hermione's friends were rich enough, we wouldn't have to bribe the Ministry - they would've done it long ago."

"If Harry were that rich, he wouldn't have needed to bribe the Ministry; he could've paid for an alternative prison system himself."

That sounded like a bribe - indirectly, at least, since it would free up funds. On the other hand, Ron was pretty sure that wizarding Harry would've had the funds to abolish Azkaban, but had spent it on other things that needed funding.

"Well, it would have simplified matters. But we have to deal with the situation at hand, not the situation in which we'd like to be," Dumbledore said. "And that means handing over this 'investment' à fonds perdus' to the Ministry of Magic in a form they'll accept and which will mask its true origin."

"We're going to launder money, in other words," Ron said.

"Barely a week out of CI5, and we're already breaking the law." Harry grinned.

"Money laundering is actually not illegal in Wizarding Britain. And as long as it's not money stolen from goblins, it's not illegal in Gringotts, either," Hermione explained with a frown. "If we could trust the goblins not to sell us out, we could simply exchange the gold bars for specie - Galleons, gold coins minted by the goblins of Gringotts."

"You've explained that to us." Dumbledore shook his head. "I still find myself wondering what would have possessed British wizards to let goblins mint their coin and handle their banking. Then again, Britain keeps trusting the United States despite several rather impressive examples of how foolish that stance can be."

Ron wasn't about to discuss politics - and most of it rather ancient politics - with the old man. "But you said that we can't trust the goblins," he addressed Hermione.

"We can't." Hermione grimaced. "My friends and I committed the second successful break-in into Gringotts that we know of, and the goblins bear grudges."

"You robbed a bank?" Sirius gasped. "The bank of Wizarding Britain?"

"It was during the war. And we had no choice - Voldemort had stashed one of his Horcruxes in a vault there, and the goblins wouldn't cooperate. And it wasn't a robbery - we snuck in. We only had to fight our way out after we were discovered."

Harry snickered. "We're in the presence of a master criminal, gents!"

Dumbledore chuckled as well. "Needs must, Dr Granger - I understand that perfectly. However, it does present us with a slight problem."

"Yes. The goblins couldn't do anything against Harry and Ron, not with them being some of the most famous and most influential wizards after the war, and they officially pardoned all of us, but they would love to hurt me if they could do so without breaking any treaties or laws. And passing on information about suspected crimes…" She shrugged. "We'll have to launder the money so the goblins will be fooled."

Dumbledore's smile grew wider. "I love a good challenge."

*****​

Soho, London, Wizarding World, February 22nd, 2006

"Normally, we could simply acquire a piece of antique furniture, claim we found it in the attic, and use it to explain where the money came from," Dumbledore said after everyone had sat down in the cosy café in Soho he'd recommended - protected by a privacy charm Hermione had cast. "Unfortunately, the amount of money we need to convince the Ministry to do what is right and decent is too high for such a cover. We could use multiple pieces, but that would strain credibility."

"The Ministry wouldn't care," Hermione told them. "Nor would they notice. A number of their employees probably have entire suites of valuable furniture stashed in their attics of which they aren't aware. But we cannot risk underestimating the goblins. They handle the finances of Wizarding Britain, and they have ties to the muggle economy. They have to, to be able to exchange pounds for Galleons for muggleborns so they can shop in Diagon Alley."

"That alone wouldn't require close ties or in-depth experience with Britain's economy and financial system," Dumbledore retorted. "A single exchange of goods that have a value in both countries would suffice for the sort of sums needed to pay for school supplies. The numbers are just not that large. Even if every muggleborn were to work in Wizarding Britain but live amongst muggles, therefore needing a constant supply of pounds, that could be easily handled by selling precious metals."

Hermione frowned. "Yes, but Gringotts does have close ties to - or interests in, at least - the British economy. We found that out when we researched the bank for our…"

"Heist?" Ron asked with a grin.

"...our mission." Hermione pursed her lips. "We didn't take anything other than our objective, the possession of which was, in any case, illegal."

"And the goblins still hate you for it?" Harry looked surprised.

Hermione blushed. "We did cause considerable collateral damage when we fled the premises."

"What did you do?" Sirius asked. "Blow up their vaults?"

"We released a dragon the goblins were using as a guard," she replied. "Though that was also completely justified - they were keeping the poor thing chained up in the lowest level of the bank!"

She set a dragon loose in a bank… Ron chuckled. It seemed that Hermione was a little more like Luna than she wanted to admit.

"Further, we decided on using gold to transfer the money, not antiques or art, since it's generally more discreet," Dumbledore went on.

"Unless it's Nazi gold," Ron pointed out.

If the interruption annoyed the old man, he didn't show it. He smiled and nodded. "Indeed - we actually considered using that as a cover, hinting at having found a Nazi submarine which had been transporting gold. Alas, while quite entertaining, it would have provided the goblins with the opportunity to inform the British authorities about a possible crime, which would have almost certainly led to a thorough investigation of Dr Granger's finances. And since she was missing for seven years, that would certainly turn up a few discrepancies unless the Ministry of Magic were to intervene. And that would, most likely, be a little counter-productive."

"So, now that we know what we won't be using as a cover story, how about telling us what we'll actually be using? So we can start memorising the details?" Sirius cocked his head as he smiled, showing his teeth.

"Indeed!" Once again, Dumbledore remained unflappable. "We'll be using the opportunity to also deal with Mr Weasley's missing identity in this world."

Ron blinked. The old man couldn't mean…

"You want to break into the government's archives to create an identity for Ron and set him up with the gold?" Harry blurted out.

"Correct. I'm thinking of you being raised by a rich uncle who had shares in an African gold mine before he was forced to leave the continent for the mother country." Dumbledore smiled.

"That sounds oddly specific," Ron commented.

"It's a background my men used for a sting operation that needed to be kept off the official records. Seeing as our two worlds show remarkable parallels, I have no doubt that we can duplicate the feat and insert your and your late uncle's identities, with no one the wiser. All we need to do is to break into a few archives and one data centre." Dumbledore beamed at them.

Ron blinked. "First, the Kremlin and now Whitehall?"

"What's next, Buckingham Palace?" Harry quipped.

Dumbledore chuckled. "Fortunately, Her Majesty the Queen isn't involved in the day to day running of the country, so we won't be forced to intrude on her home."

"Good. As an officer in the Blues and Royals, I would be honour-bound to stop you," Sirius said with a grin. "The Treasury, though, has been known as the British Army's arch-enemy for centuries."

"Oh, indeed. I must confess that I'm looking forward to pulling one over that particular part of Her Majesty's Government."

Great, Ron thought.

*****​

City of Westminster, London, Wizarding World, February 23rd, 2006

"I think we're taking this a little too lightly," Ron said as he walked to the kitchen of the apartment they had rented near - but not too close - to their target. Far enough that it wouldn't trigger any flags in the system.

"How so?" Harry asked from where he was looking at the laptops on the dining table which showed the feeds from the cameras they had placed the night before - while invisible and on brooms.

"We did break into the Kremlin, but that was with the help of magic, in a world without magic. And we were still almost caught by Putin's guards," Ron explained. "This time? We're up against a government which knows about magic, at least at the highest levels, and in a world with thousands of wizards and witches - organised wizards and witches with countries of their own and a vested interest in policing magic."

"But we're not trying to kidnap the Prime Minister, and I don't think the clerks and guards in the archives are aware of magic," Harry replied. "Nor would they expect an attack."

"But they might be following procedures which were implemented with magic in mind. And the Ministry might be keeping an eye on the archives to prevent a wizard from amassing wealth by changing entries. Like what we're planning to do."

"We're not gaining anything other than a cover story for the money Dumbledore's donating," Harry retorted.

"But we could do so much more," Ron said.

His friend shrugged. "Only if we were aware of assets without an actual or known owner. Trying to take over a building owned by someone else would only draw attention to the attempt, and not even the government would be so foolish as to simply accept the results from the archives."

"Sirius would disagree," Ron told him.

"He's not unbiased." Harry snorted. "And Hermione confirmed that the building isn't under magical protection."

Hermione had checked - Ron had been there - but she hadn't checked inside the building. He couldn't shake his gut feeling that this wouldn't be as easy as the others expected. Too much could go wrong. "They might have some hidden alerts - or protections on the archives themselves." Or some magical guard-beasts or constructs.

"I actually don't really think that the wizards care much about the muggle government," Harry said. "Not after what we've heard."

"We still can't risk it," Ron replied.

"We won't. We're just going to add a few records, that's all. We won't even change any existing entries." Harry grinned. "You know that as long as nothing's missing, people are less likely to notice anything amiss."

Ron snorted. That was how they had once managed to infiltrate a drug-smuggling organisation - they had added more money to the stash they had discovered. Money they could trace. But still... "I guess I just worry that this is too good to be true." After all, he'd end up with a solid ID in this world, Hermione's world. He would have a paper trail, a history - a legal existence. He wouldn't have to fear being mistaken for this world's Ron any more - or be exposed as a double, should he run into trouble with the law.

"It isn't," Harry said, grinning more widely. "You'll have to pay taxes here and in our world."

Ron snorted. Of course his friend would know what Ron was thinking. "It won't be my money. Dumbledore will have to pay them."

"Then you'll owe him."

"Compared to what we already owe him? It'll be a drop in the ocean." Ron scoffed. He didn't like it, but it wasn't as if they had a better alternative. Which was pretty much how Dumbledore liked it, of course.

Harry grunted. "That's quite cavalier of you."

"I like to call it realistic. Or opportunistic." And Ron wasn't so naive as to really feel obligated to Dumbledore. The old man was using them, so it was perfectly fine to use him in return. "Anyway, focus on tracking the schedules of the guards." That was their task, after all.

Harry scoffed. "We won't be sneaking in during the day. What we need are the night schedules."

"You never know what you might need," Ron told him.

"Is that a quote from Moody or Hermione?"

"Arse."

Harry laughed but focused on the screens again. And Ron returned to studying the blueprints. He wasn't about to underestimate the muggle government here.

Despite his experiences in his own world.

*****​

Black Lake, Scotland, February 23rd, 2006

He was getting used to commuting to another world - and across all of Britain - Ron realised as he stepped through the portal into Hermione's lab. Or, rather, into the heavily guarded portal room - he could spot a gun emplacement, a sentry gun, as far as he could tell, that hadn't been there when he had left.

"Isn't that a little obvious?" Harry asked, looking at the light machine gun as well.

"It'll be hidden once they're done."

Ron whirled and had his gun out before he recognised the voice - Fred. Or George. No, he realised as he didn't see anyone, wizarding Fred or George. Unless this was the work of hidden microphones…

"Whoa! Don't shoot!"

"We're not your brothers! We're their innocent counterparts!"

Ron sighed as he holstered his gun. "Don't do that. We almost shot you. Unless you had cast a Shield Charm."

"Not yet," one of the still invisible wizards replied. "That was supposed to be the next test."

"Test?" Harry asked, frowning as he reholstered his own pistol.

The two wizards faded into view. "Testing the new sensors that were installed."

"Ah." Ron looked around, spotting a few more not-quite-perfectly-concealed additions to the room.

"Yes! Your Grindelwald is a firm believer in the idea that 'anything the Russians can do we can do better'," wizarding Fred said with a familiar grin, "and hasn't spared any expense to prove it true."

"He's had his people duplicate and improve on all the sensors from your Kremlin," wizarding George added. "So far, they're working well."

"We'll find a way to beat them, though," his brother boasted. "And then we'll help with finding a way to beat what beat them."

"Ah." Harry echoed Ron. "Did you add magical defences as well?"

"Protective enchantments?" wizarding George cocked his head. "We're still working on those - Hermione did a good job."

"Not a perfect job, mind you," his brother went on. "But she's not a Curse-Breaker."

"Neither are you," Ron said.

"No, but we've got a lot of experience with magical defences," wizarding Fred claimed. "We had to, in our line of business."

"And, essentially, wards are just a variant of protective charms," wizarding George told them.

"Wards?"

"Permanent magical defences. You can cast protective charms so that they'll last a long time, if you're good. Perhaps even forever, if you're Dumbledore. Our Dumbledore. Not that you could test that. But they won't grow more powerful with age, nor will they be particularly hard to dispel - for a decent Curse-Breaker," the wizard explained.

"Wards can be downright lethal, old boy," his brother added. "And that's the reason why we had so much trouble with the richer Death Eaters - they weren't actually that good with a wand, but their wards have had centuries to grow. Nasty business, that."

Ron could imagine. "Well, that isn't an option for us."

"But you can do the next best thing if you're clever and talented," wizarding George said.

"Which we are," the other twin added. "And handsome and charming, too!"

"Sure you are," Harry replied in a flat tone.

"Oi!"

Ron laughed. "Well, don't let us hold you up any longer. We've got a report to make and a break-in to plan."

"That won't please Ginny - well, this world's Ginny," wizarding Fred said.

"Ginny's here?" Harry frowned. "She's supposed to be training for her comeback on the tour."

"She probably finished training in London and then called Hermione or Luna for a lift here," Ron told him.

"Hermione," wizarding Fred confirmed. "She complained that Luna's cell phone wasn't working."

Probably because Luna was with her counterpart in their hidden magical habitat.

"And we haven't received cell phones that work in this world, yet," wizarding George said. "Though Luna's said she'll help us become untraceable."

That was a worrying smile. Very worrying.

"Do you know where Ginny is?" Harry asked.

"In the lounge, watching the telly," wizarding Fred told him. "Probably growing more and more annoyed with every moment you spend talking to us if she's anything like our sister. Which she seems to be."

"But don't worry, we'll explain to her that you were simply tired."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Perhaps you should watch some TV as well, if only to learn better jokes."

"Oi!"

Harry scoffed and left the room, and the twins turned towards Ron.

He held up a hand before they could start. "Hermione knows you. Any attempt to get me in trouble with her will backfire."

"That's a risk we're willing to take." Wizarding Fred grinned.

"Well, what about your work here?" Ron asked. "Think Grindelwald will be happy to hear you held up everyone because you wanted to prank people?"

"Dumbledore would be happy!"

That was why Ron hadn't mentioned the old spymaster, but rather his cranky German partner.

"But point taken. Now get lost! You're holding up an entire shift!"

Ron shook his head and left the portal room.

*****​

He found Hermione in her new laboratory in front of a whiteboard filled with various wordings, poring over several notebooks and loose sheets. "Hey!"

She looked up and blinked. "Oh. You're back already?"

"I feel so loved," he replied, chuckling.

She blushed in response even as she frowned at him. "I didn't mean it like that! I just realised that I lost track of time."

"Is that a good thing?" He stepped over to her desk and craned his neck, peering at the notes. They were all variations of the wording for the Fidelius Charm.

"It would be a good thing if I had made significant progress." She sighed.

He pointed at one of the sheets. "That sounds like it covers everything."

"Yes. It's also half a page. I can't cast the spell with such a long secret."

"Oh."

"I'll have to condense things. But even so…"

"...you'll have to make compromises," he finished for her.

"Yes." Another sigh had her slumping over.

He knew very well that she hated compromising on anything, but didn't mention it.

"Well, at least Operation: Official Identity looks like it'll happen on schedule," he said, carefully sitting down on the edge of her desk - he didn't need to get ink stains on another pair of trousers.

"Oh. You already got the guard schedule?" She tilted her head, looking at him.

"We'll have it tomorrow. The cameras are working fine." He shrugged. "If the floorplans and security systems are the same as in this world and there's no magical protection, we shouldn't have any trouble executing Dumbledore's plans."

"'If'," she said. "Otherwise, you'll be in trouble."

"I expect there to be trouble," he replied. "When do things ever go according to plan for us?"

She shook her head. "That's not a logical conclusion. Just because we've had some bad luck in the past doesn't mean it'll continue to plague us at every opportunity."

"That's the logical argument. But my gut disagrees."

"You mean Moody's training disagrees."

"That too." He nodded. "But yes, I'm still not as optimistic as Dumbledore." The old man was probably a little too affected by his sudden rejuvenation, in Ron's opinion. Living vicariously through others was a problem if said others were sent to break into government buildings using decades-old plans. On the other hand, the British government was slow to change anything without a pressing reason.

But in Hermione's world, the government knew about magic. Ron simply couldn't believe they wouldn't take at least some basic countermeasures.

"Well, neither am I," Hermione said. "So let's get ready for dinner. We can discuss things with Dumbledore then."

*****​

"I've compared the results from Mr Potter and Mr Weasley's reconnaissance, and I've confirmed that the building conforms in every significant way to its counterpart in our world," Dumbledore announced as he savoured a glass of port. "With the exception of potential magical security measures, of course."

"Of course." Harry smiled rather tensely.

"Don't worry," wizarding Fred said. "Leave the magic to us - we'll deal with it. You just focus on the muggle stuff."

"This isn't the same as infiltrating wizarding homes," Hermione told them with a sharp glare.

"We've also infiltrated the Ministry," wizarding George pointed out.

"That wasn't exactly a challenge," Hermione retorted. "The Ministry's security wasn't very good - even though it should've been."

"We've also studied your defences here," the wizard told her. "And I doubt that the muggle archives are as well protected as the portal."

"And those defences wouldn't stop us," his brother added.

"While I doubt that the government would spend as much money on the security of their archives as we are currently spending on this location, the Treasury has never been a bastion of common sense, and I cannot claim it would be impossible to encounter advanced sensors set up to detect magical intruders," Dumbledore said. "However, we will prepare for that eventuality - we shall proceed with the utmost caution."

"That'll require a little more preparation," Ron replied. "Especially if we're working with people who haven't worked with us before." And who had no experience with muggle tactics.

"I think that would be prudent, yes." Dumbledore nodded.

"And I think we should run a few exercises so Fred and George know how we work," Harry added.

Ron grinned. That was a great idea. "We'll start with taking you on our regular morning run."

"'Morning run'?" Wizarding Fred looked a lot less confident than before. As did his brother.

"We'll start easy - just one lap around the lake, I think," Harry said.

Ginny scowled. "I'll need at least two for a decent workout."

"They won't last two laps," Ron told her.

"Not without cheating and using magic," Hermione added.

"Oi!"

"I think they're taking the mickey," wizarding George said.

Ron's grin widened.

*****​

Black Lake, Scotland, February 24th, 2006

The twins started talking as soon as Ron entered the lounge.

"You're evil. Evil."

"You may look like a Weasley, but you're far too cruel to be one."

"Evil."

"Cruel."

Ron rolled his eyes. "You're getting repetitive," he told them as he took a seat at the table. Their reaction to the morning run had been amusing at first, but now it was merely annoying.

"So were you when we ran!"

He shrugged. "I wasn't aiming for originality."

"Besides, we were going easy on you," Ginny said as she entered, followed by Harry. Her hair was still a little wet - unlike the twins, who had apparated into the private areas of the laboratory to avoid tipping off the MI5 guards, the rest of their group had run back to the lab. "When we started doing this, we ran faster and for longer."

"'Faster and longer'?" Wizarding Fred perked up.

"Don't!" Hermione snapped as she joined Ron. "It's not as funny as you think."

Harry glared at the twin as well.

"Everyone's a critic," the wizard complained, crossing his arms and huffing.

"But not everyone's an out of shape slowpoke," Ginny retorted. "Even Hermione was faster than you when we started."

Ron saw Hermione briefly frowning at the indirect insult. "Now that we know that Fred and George won't win any track and field events, we should focus on the next part of the training and evaluation drill," she said as she grabbed the teapot to fill her cup - or mug, this time. She must be thirsty, Ron realised; The twins didn't know it, but today's run had been a little more challenging than usual.

"The next part?" wizarding George asked.

"Weapons training."

"Oh!" Suddenly, both wizards were beaming at them. "The fun part!"

"No, the dangerous part," Harry corrected them. "You don't have fun with guns."

"Not as a rookie, at least." Sirius must have overheard them on the way since he spoke just as he entered the lounge. "I could tell you stories of what happens when people fool around with guns…"

"Please do," Hermione told him. "It might impress upon them the consequences of failing to take firearms seriously. I don't hold out much hope, knowing them, but the possibility, however scant, remains."

Ron hoped she was mostly joking. Guns weren't toys.

"Oi!"

"Prove me wrong," she told them.

"We will!"

Sirius, of course, was smiling widely at the chance to finally repeat all the gruesome stories which everyone who knew him had grown tired of long ago. "So, this was shortly after the Argies had surrendered…"

"'Argies'?" wizarding Fred asked.

"The Argentinians. In the Falklands War," Sirius replied.

"'Falklands War'?"

The former officer sighed. "Alright. Short history lesson…"

Ron tuned him out and focused on eating breakfast. They had been running a bit more than usual, after all, and he had worked up an appetite.

*****​

After breakfast, the twins had seemed to have been at least a little sobered by Sirius's stories - which tended to change whenever he told them, but that was neither here nor there. But now, on the shores of the Black Lake, it was obvious that even the detailed - and, in Ron's opinion, completely made-up - tale of the soldier who had shot his own foot off hadn't made them take this seriously enough not to stare with open glee at the rifles Harry and Ron had brought with them.

He double-checked that the fire-control selector was limited to semi-automatic before clearing his throat. "So! You've learned how a gun works. Now let us demonstrate what one can do." He held his hand up as the twins reached for the gun. "We will demonstrate."

Perhaps blowing through a few trees would impress the wizards enough to handle the rifles with caution. Ron wasn't very optimistic, though - wizards generally didn't seem to take physical dangers as seriously as they should. Then again, they could heal most injuries easily. Most.

"Watch the tree there," he said as he grabbed the rifle. "We've installed a shot trap behind it." Hermione had conjured it up, which greatly facilitated training, of course. And would help to fool MI5.

He raised the rifle to his shoulder, aimed and started pulling the trigger, emptying half a magazine into the tree.

The twins weren't impressed, though, even if they didn't say so - he could tell from their expressions; his own brothers had taught him that.

Well, Harry and Ron weren't done, yet. "Now, let's look how long it takes to go through a Shield Charm."

Hermione flicked her wand, and a shimmering field of magical energy appeared in front of the tree.

It took the rest of the magazine to shatter it, but the twins finally looked suitably impressed that they could begin teaching them basic firearms safety.

*****​

"Hah! Every shot a hit! Score!"

"That was luck, Fred!"

"Fred? I'm George!"

"I thought I was George?"

"No, today I'm Fred."

Ron sighed and rolled his eyes. After an hour on the improvised shooting range, the twins were scoring decently - for beginners. Which meant they were getting cocky again. "Alright," he said. "Now let's get the laser tag gear and see how you do in the field. Without you being able to shoot yourself - or us - by mistake."

"Oi! We wouldn't do that!"

"We fought in the war!"

"But you've never handled guns in the field," Harry replied. "Let's get you suited up."

"What's this 'laser tag' anyway?"

"It's called Ausbildungsgerät Duellsimulator, in German," Ron explained. "It lets you shoot rays of light at each other instead of bullets, and records and reports when you hit someone."

"It's great for exercises," Harry added with a grin.

"So we're forming teams?" wizarding Fred asked. "Like for Quidditch?"

"Yes," Hermione told him. "And I'll be the referee, to ensure you don't use magic to cheat."

Ron took note of how the faces of the twins fell slightly in response to this. Really, had they expected anything else? "First, it'll be you two against me and Harry," he told them. "Later, we'll switch the teams up."

"Alright!"

*****​

"Well, that went… as expected," Harry said an hour later, back in the warm laboratory's lounge.

"Fred and George died five times each - and once they shot each other by mistake," Hermione said, looking through the records on her computer.

"That's because you cheated!" wizarding Fred protested. "You used smoke bombs."

"Only magic wasn't allowed," Ron told him. "Everything else was perfectly fine."

"That's not fair! We didn't know about all our options!" wizarding George added - a little more vehemently than usual, Ron noted.

"Exactly," Harry said with a smirk, "and it's best to learn in training that you are out of your depth rather than in the field. You won't know everything muggles can do."

"So… how common are smoke bombs?"

"Less common than flashbangs," Ron replied, "but not very rare. If the police are called in and encounter the kind of resistance we can put up, they'll call reinforcements, who will come with such grenades."

"And they'll bring assault rifles as well," Harry added. "Anyway, you now know about crossfire and that you really need to check your target before you shoot."

"And that you're cheaters!" wizarding George repeated. "You used some muggle flying machines to track us!"

"Yes, we did." Ron grinned. "Just to show that you can't underestimate the muggle defences of the archives."

"We couldn't use magic or we'd have easily fooled your machines!"

"Could you?" Harry shook his head. "You were surrounded by snow, and we were using thermographic cameras. Even if you had disillusioned yourselves, we could've tracked the heat leaving your bodies."

"And melting the snow," Ron added. "Though you did erase your tracks quite competently."

"Thank you. But those tricks won't work inside a building!"

"That depends on how sensitive the camera resolution is. And how easily your surroundings absorb heat," Hermione added. "It wasn't a problem when we were infiltrating the Kremlin since we were shrunk to a size that was too small to trigger any sensors and were disillusioned. But we won't be doing the same thing here."

"Why not? If it works…" Wizarding Fred shrugged.

"It's also quite dangerous," she replied. "All sorts of insects and other animals are a threat. And if there are magical defences, we'd have to unshrink anyway."

"Right, I'd rather not be eaten by a spider," wizarding George said.

"Yes. It would make a terrible story," his brother agreed. "Now if it were an Acromantula…"

Ron cleared his throat. He really didn't want to think or talk about giant spiders killing people. Not even his brothers' counterparts. "So… now that you know a little more about guns, remember: Don't get in front of a gun. Stay behind us and let us shoot whatever needs to be shot."

"We can do that. I think." Wizarding Fred nodded.

"Unless Aurors start apparating behind us," his brother added. "Then it gets confusing."

"If Aurors arrive, we'll retreat," Hermione said.

"Standard Auror procedure is to cast Anti-Apparition Jinxes first thing," wizarding Geroge pointed out.

"We won't apparate," Ron told him. "We have two escape routes according to Dumbledore's plan."

"But getting away will be a little tricky," Harry said. "We'll be making liberal use of smoke grenades and flashbangs."

"No spells?"

"No spells that the average wizard wouldn't be able to cast - that might cause suspicion to fall on us. That's also why we will all be in disguise," Hermione added. "Muggle disguises."

"Oh! Neat!"

*****​

City of Westminster, London, Wizarding World, February 27th, 2006

"It looks deserted, according to our cameras," Harry reported.

"It's Sunday. Only people like Percy would be working in the Ministry," Ron replied.

"Our Percy would live in the Ministry if his wife let him," wizarding Fred said, chuckling.

Ron joined in, briefly laughing. His brother had actually stayed the night in his office a few times. Then he checked his watch. "Let's get ready; our window of opportunity is approaching quickly."

Fortunately, they were already in disguise, with wigs hiding their red hair and padded overalls hiding the shape of their bodies. Four men - the expected group of cleaning men for this weekend. According to the data in the government systems, of course, which had already been carefully manipulated by Luna.

Ten minutes later, they pulled up to the entrance of the underground parking lot for the government buildings in the area. The codes Luna had given them worked, and the bored-looking guard just waved them through after a cursory check of their documents. With their special gear and weapons shrunk and hidden thanks to Hermione, the metal detectors didn't sound the alarm either.

And then they were inside the building. According to their surveillance, the lift wasn't covered - but that was no reason to assume they would have privacy there. Not that they needed privacy - the plan was quite simple, after all.

Walk in, make your way to the archives, replace a certain file and adjust the electronic files. Nothing that should pose problems for a dedicated team.

Until, in a maintenance tunnel leading to the archives, Fred suddenly yelled: "Don't move! There's magic ahead!"

Ron froze, as did Harry. The two wizards passed them, wands flashing.

"Yes," wizarding George confirmed. "A detection spell, I think."

"I think you're right."

"Of course I am."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Get rid of it, please."

"Already working on it!" wizarding George replied. "This shouldn't take long."

"This can't take long," Ron told him. "We've only got two hours until the guards next make their rounds."

"Don't rush us; if that spell is linked to older spells, or even wards…"

Ron winced - he could imagine the destruction. But they were here for a reason, and he wouldn't let anything stop them.

*****​

"Who would've thought Hermione Granger, teacher's pet extraordinaire, would stoop to stealing school records?"

She scowled at Ron. "First, we're not stealing any records - we're merely copying them."

"Well, isn't that theft of intellectual property?" Harry asked.

She sniffed. "School records aren't intellectual property." Well, not in the muggle world.

"But they're not meant to be public," Harry said.

"This is an emergency," she retorted. "We need to see Tom Riddle's school records." The boy whose diary they had found - and lost again - was at the centre of this whole affair.

Besides, she was curious what the school's records would say about her - and how she matched up to someone who had received a special commendation from the school, and who had apparently created a unique magic item while he was still a student.

"Let's go," she whispered.

"Let's check if there's anyone around, first," Harry corrected her.

"Yes," Ron added. "Wouldn't want you to curse Neville again."

"That was one time!" she hissed. And Neville had deserved it, trying to stop them from doing what was right.

Harry disappeared under his Invisibility Cloak and snuck down the stairs to the common room - she heard some of the steps creak. She really needed to learn a silencing charm and the Disillusionment Charm; she didn't like to depend on Harry's heirloom for such things.

But first, they needed the records. She checked if the magical camera she had acquired was in working order - it was - before Harry returned.

"The coast is clear!" he whispered.

A minute later, they were in the hallway outside their dorm, making their way towards the dungeons of Hogwarts. Where the archives were supposed to be.

*****​

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 63: The Records

City of Westminster, London, Wizarding World, February 27th, 2006

"This is odd, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is. It's an old spell - an old ward. Powerful. But it's rather… simple."

"Yes. Why would you cast a ward using such a simple spell? All the power it accumulates over time will be useless since it can be easily circumvented."

"Yes. So… trap?"

"That would be the logical conclusion, wouldn't it?"

"It would. But I haven't found any sign of the trap, yet."

"That means it's been expertly hidden."

"Yes. This might be trickier than we thought."

No shit, Ron thought as he listened to the twins' discussion. Of course it was a trap - it was the oldest trick in the book: an easy trap hiding a more difficult - and more lethal - trap. A dumb intruder would grow overconfident after dealing with the first trap and run straight into the real trap. Moody had given a few examples in training.

He tapped his radio. "We've encountered a ward," he told Hermione. "The twins are on it, but it's harder than expected."

"A ward? Inside the building?" Hermione asked.

"In the tunnel leading to the archives," he confirmed. "It's a simple spell, though, so it must be hiding another spell - or a curse."

"And whoever cast it was good," wizarding Fred interrupted. "We still haven't found even a trace of the curse."

"Alright," Hermione said. "Be careful. But don't take too long, either - we don't have unlimited time, and you don't want to be stuck in a ward if anyone notices you."

"We've done this before, you know," wizarding George told her, his voice slightly tight. Not quite snapping at Hermione, but close.

The other spell must be hidden very well if tempers were rising already - the twins, at least Ron's brothers, usually tried to appear amused and above petty concerns at all times. He cleared his throat. "Just do your job; we'll have your back."

"And our front and other body parts all over you, if we botch this up," wizarding Fred replied - with forced and utterly out of place cheerfulness.

However, that was normal for him, or so Ron assumed. Which hopefully meant that things weren't hopeless.

He looked at Harry, who was guarding their rear. His friend was tense. "We've got two hours until the next scheduled patrol," he told Harry.

"I know." His friend clenched his teeth. "And we can't be seen, or they'll check the archives thoroughly afterwards for any signs of manipulation."

Disillusionment Charms would hide them, and if they were still detected, Stunners and Obliviation could deal with the guards, but Ron would prefer to avoid using either. In and out without being seen was the goal - provided the twins could find the magical trap.

Hell, it felt like one of the more stupid D&D campaigns, with the Killer DM who wouldn't accept dice rolls for finding traps. Sometimes they had spent hours describing how their characters would search for traps. Once they had spent hours and there hadn't been a trap at all.

He blinked. What if that was the case here as well? One obvious trap, to get the morons - and make the smarter intruders suspect another trap, stalling them as they looked for it, probably for longer than dealing with an actual trap would have taken…

"Mates, what if there is no second spell?" he asked.

"What would be the point?" wizarding Fred replied. His brother was too busy, apparently, to answer - or even react.

Ron told him.

But the wizard shook his head. "That would only make sense if there were regular patrols who'd notice magical intruders. And I don't think the Ministry would waste Aurors or Hit-Wizards on such a task."

"If they did, I would be very cross," Hermione commented over the radio. "No resources to abolish Azkaban, but enough trained wizards to regularly patrol muggle archives?"

Ron bit on his lip - he knew that making a joke about the Ministry valuing paperwork more than lives wouldn't be appreciated by anyone. Well, perhaps the twins.

So all they could do was to wait and hope the twins didn't screw things up.

Who would've thought that breaking into a government archive could be as boring as filling out paperwork?

*****​

An hour later, the twins hadn't made any progress. They hadn't found even the slightest trace of a second spell, much less a second ward. And they were starting to run out of time - well, not yet, but their safety margin was being eroded.

Ron shook his head. "Mates, you haven't found anything. Let's try a walking trap detector."

"A what?" wizarding Fred asked.

"Conjure a pig or something, and have it walk down the hallway," Harry explained.

"That would trigger a trap - or an alert."

"If there is one," Ron told him. "We can't spend forever here, watching you look for something that might not exist." And whoever would have thought that seeing Ron's most annoying brothers, or at least their magical counterparts, stumped and frustrated wouldn't be amusing?

"I concur," Hermione said before the twins could reply. "We have to risk it."

"It's on your heads!" wizarding Fred complained. But he complied - as soon as his brother had finished his latest attempt to analyse the ward, the wizard waved his wand, and a large pig appeared.

The conjured animal started walking down the hallway and reached the door to the archives without anything happening at all.

Ron managed to control himself and didn't tell everyone that he had told them so, but he was grinning widely as they all approached the door. A door which wasn't, as the twins confirmed, magically protected. "This doesn't make any sense!" wizarding Fred protested. "A detection charm - a ward! Decades old! - in a maintenance tunnel, but no protection on the actual door leading to the archives? Who thought this was a good idea? The Quibbler?"

"Hey!" Ron snapped.

"Sorry. But this is… it's insane, that's what it is!" the wizard went on. "Who would create a ward with just a detection charm and no other spells?"

"Someone who really wanted to know who went through this tunnel?" his brother asked.

"We're on a mission," Harry told them. "You can speculate later about the motives of whoever cast this decades ago; now we need to get in and change the records."

"And get rid of the pig," Ron added, nodding at the animal. It wasn't acting like an animal at all, standing perfectly still, but it was completely out of place here anyway. Now, if this were the basement of Parliament…

Grumbling, wizarding Fred vanished the pig while his brother unlocked the door with another spell.

"Alright," Ron told them. "Harry's on the computer, George and I will take care of the physical records and Fred's on lookout duty." Just as planned. He turned and walked towards the section Dumbledore had marked on the floor plans without waiting for an answer. They were on the clock. "We're in," he told Hermione over the radio.

The records they needed were recent - more or less - compared to the really ancient stuff in the archives - which were probably old enough to qualify for a museum - but he still had to walk past a considerable number of shelves.

"It's almost as large as the Prophecy Room in the Department of Mysteries," wizarding George commented. "Just with paper instead of spheres."

"Spheres?"

"Yes. They hold prophecies."

Ron glanced at the wizard, and his brother's counterpart shrugged. "It wasn't my idea. Someone probably thought it was the perfect solution for storing prophecies. Or there wasn't a better way to record them at the time, and no one bothered to change the system after better ways were developed."

Ron snorted - that sounded like what the British government would do, alright. His father complained about hidebound traditionalists often enough. "This is just one floor," he told wizarding George, "there are several more below us."

"Wow. And I thought our Ministry loved paperwork."

Ron snorted again. But before he could reply, they reached their destination. "Here we are - London birth records."

"But we're from Devon."

"Your branch of the family is. My completely fictive branch obviously moved to London at the start of the twentieth century." Which church records in Ottery St Catchpole would confirm once the Lunas finished altering them.

"Ah. No spells, by the way."

"Good." That would've been a nasty surprise, finding spells on the archives here. "Let's do it, then."

"Yes, yes. Just like we practised."

Ron suppressed a grin. Wizarding George might complain, but proper training prevented debacles. He'd rather not have his records spontaneously combust or turn into a rat after a day or two or something - something not entirely out of the question in light of some of Hermione's tales from her classes at Hogwarts.

He sorted through the files - everything seemed in order. It wouldn't do to replace the file and misfile it at the same time. Then he pulled out the first register he needed. "Alter this one."

While wizarding George worked, Ron went after the next set of records. His fake identity needed a complete and convincing paper trail, back to his grandparents, after all.

*****​

They had about fifteen minutes left before the next guard patrol was scheduled when they finally finished and returned to the exit, where Harry and wizarding Fred were already waiting.

"Got it!" the wizard announced as soon as they reached him.

"What?" Ron asked. "And not so loud, please."

"I know what was up with the ward," wizarding Fred explained. "Someone needed to catch an intruder, but didn't know when they would make their move, so they installed a ward to alert them and then never bothered to remove it!"

Had he spent the entire time pondering that instead of keeping an eye out for trouble?

"And why would they not simply cast the spell instead of creating a ward? Were they planning to be ready to intervene for years on end?" wizarding George retorted.

"The question should be: Why are we wasting time here instead of moving?" Harry snapped. "Let's go!"

"Oh, alright, let's go." Instead of opening the door, wizarding Fred reached for their hands.

"No!" Harry shook his head. "We'll leave as we came - as planned."

Without magic. Ron wasn't entirely sure how long traces of spells remained, but it was best to minimise the risk.

*****​

They made it out without trouble - which was a little suspicious, Ron had to admit. On the other hand, they had all the floor plans and schedules they needed, and the guards weren't exactly alert. And since it was a Sunday, few, if any, civilians were out and about in the building. Or nearby. But Moody had taught them that you were the most vulnerable once you thought you were done with a mission.

Still, Ron couldn't help expecting an ambush at every corner as they walked back to the flat they were using as a base. But nobody attacked them. And Ron couldn't spot any attempts to follow them, either.

Very suspicious, indeed. What would Moody do in this situation? The old police officer would probably create a diversion to escape - or force the observers to reveal themselves. The latter was not a good idea - drawing attention was the last thing they wanted - and they'd escape as soon as they were reunited with Hermione, who was waiting for them in the flat.

As they entered the house, Ron clenched his teeth. He almost wanted to be attacked, just to break the tension. Almost.

"There you are!" Hermione greeted them, her beaded bag hidden inside a plastic bag which she had thrown over her shoulder.

"Where else would we be?" Wizarding Fred snorted. "Not even an age-old mystery was enough to stop us!"

She rolled her eyes at his boasting. "It was enough to almost stop you."

"Almost catching the Snitch or Quaffle doesn't count," the wizard replied.

"Mission accomplished," Ron reported. "Once the Lunas have altered the records in Ottery St Catchpole, my new identity will be perfect."

"They finished - and without getting stalled, despite some rather interesting spells in the village church," Hermione told him.

"Interesting spells?" George asked. "Do tell!"

"I don't have details, but it seems that we aren't the first wizards and witches to alter muggle records with magic." Hermione flashed a toothy smile. "And guess who're the main suspects?"

"It wasn't us!" wizarding Fred protested at once.

"We hadn't considered the potential of such manipulations, to be honest," his brother added. "Although the real challenge is doing the same with Ministry records! Imagine if it came out that certain families never actually owned their land, but stole it from muggles…"

"'I'm certain that that has happened more than once," Hermione said, "and that no one in the Ministry cared."

"Well, times change," wizarding George replied. "And the current Ministry is very different to the old one. If they found traces of a blatant attempt to hide such manipulations..." He grinned.

"The new Ministry is also far better protected than the old one," Hermione pointed out. "Or so I've been told. And we have too many important problems to solve to indulge in pranks."

"Not to mention that all the bigots were dealt with anyway, weren't they?" Ron added. "You'd only hurt a distant relative who didn't have anything to do with the war."

"Based on their voting habits, some of the new Wizengamot members probably only didn't join Voldemort because he wasn't pure enough for them," wizarding George said.

"And it would be a challenge!" Wizarding Fred grinned.

They weren't serious. Probably - Ron wasn't completely sure. "Let's go," he said. "We can discuss things further back home."

"Oh, no wonder you and Hermione got together - you think of her lab as 'home' as well!"

Ron rolled his eyes again. There were definite drawbacks to hiring his family's counterparts.

*****​

Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, February 27th, 2006

"You know, the spells on the church register in Ottery St Catchpole…" Wizarding George slowly shook his head as he sat down in an armchair in the lab's lounge.

"Which must have been the work of the Diggory family," his brother interrupted him. "It wasn't our family - we have it from a reliable source that we're the worst delinquents in seven generations, and we didn't do it - and it wasn't the Lovegoods, because, well… you know them."

With the exception of wizarding Luna, Ron actually didn't know them well, but he nodded anyway.

"Anyway!" wizarding George continued. "The spell in the muggle archives… I think we should investigate it."

"That's what I've been saying for hours!" wizarding Fred exclaimed.

"Yes, but I've thought of a good reason for doing so," wizarding George replied.

"Do you suspect a conspiracy?" Hermione looked very sceptical.

"Well… Not quite a conspiracy. But there has to be a reason for it. And since we - now - know how useful such records, properly manipulated, can be, it stands to reason that other wizards will have discovered this before us," wizarding George told her.

"It could just be coincidence. Occam's razor," Hermione said.

"Occam?"

"It means that if you have two competing theories that make exactly the same predictions, the simpler one is the better," Hermione explained.

"Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. The third time it's enemy action," Ron said.

"We only have two points of data," Hermione retorted with a smile. "Coincidence."

"Unless we find a third data thingie!" wizarding Fred piped up.

"That shouldn't be too hard," his brother agreed.

Ron wasn't so sure, but he wouldn't stop them. If they were busy investigating a mystery, they weren't busy doing something more dangerous. And there was another point to consider. "What if the Ministry has copies of the records?" Ron asked. "If they check them for my identity…"

Hermione's eyes widened, but the twins shook their heads. "I've never heard of the Ministry keeping muggle records," wizarding Fred said.

"And Dad's been working for the Ministry for decades - he'd have told us if they had muggle records. You know how he is about all things muggle," wizarding George added with a nod towards Hermione.

"But would he have known about a rarely used archive?" Hermione asked.

"If they have such records, wouldn't they have checked them already after you appeared?" the wizard replied with a glance at Ron.

That was a good point. Although… "Wouldn't have Harry and Ron handled that?" Ron shrugged. "They know the truth, so they would've been able to cover for us."

"Without telling us?" Hermione pursed her lips.

"They might not have wanted to give you another reason to criticise the Ministry," Ron suggested.

"They know better than that!" she insisted.

They hadn't seen her for seven years, though. Ron briefly bit his lower lip.

"We haven't even determined yet whether any copied muggle archives exist in the first place," wizarding Fred said. "Percy hasn't mentioned anything like them, either. And he talks about the thickness of cauldron bottoms for hours if you let him."

"That's actually a very important regulation," Hermione told them. "Defective cauldrons can cause lethal brewing mishaps."

"Getting bored to death can also be fatal," wizarding Fred retorted.

Ron was about to agree, but Hermione's frown had grown more pronounced, so he cleared his throat instead and tried to get the conversation back on track. "Anyway, I think we should just ask your Percy if the Ministry has such an archive."

"He's a stickler for the rules, though family comes first, and you're sort of family. Twice," wizarding George said.

"Twice?" Hermione asked.

"Once for being a Weasley from another dimension, and once for being a sort of in-law, since you're like an honorary Weasley yourself," the wizard explained with a sly grin.

Hermione groaned, but she was smiling. And it was - for Fred and George - endearing. Sort of.

"But we really should first check if there are other muggle archives with spells on them," George said.

"Alright." Hermione nodded. "We don't have to start the bribery right away, anyway."

"And it's always better to check if your cover story is solid before launching an undercover operation," Ron added.

"Constant vigilance!" wizarding Fred exclaimed with a grin.

*****​

Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, February 28th, 2006

"So, we've got good news and bad news," wizarding George said. "Which do you want to hear first?"

"Start with the good news, please," Dumbledore replied. "I assume we will have to focus on the bad news, so it's best to get the good news out of the way."

"Alright! The good news is: The Ministry doesn't care about muggle records," the wizard told them. "So there are no hidden or secret copied archives."

"Also, Percy was really annoyed at being woken up early in the morning for an emergency," his brother added with a grin. "That's also good news!"

Ron chuckled - he could imagine that.

"The bad news is, we're definitely not the first wizards to meddle with muggle records," wizarding George said with a sigh. "We've checked a number of church records and we've found three more warded ones."

"Coincidentally, all of the spelled records were related to old wizarding families, often dating back to the time before the Statute of Secrecy," wizarding Fred added.

"They've been adding people to families. Or removing them," Hermione said.

"That's our conclusion as well," wizarding George replied. "Remove all records of squibs. Or the family members who married below their station."

"Or pick an old family and create a cadet branch - either through a 'squib line' or by claiming they emigrated generations ago - and then return to reclaim your family heritage," Hermione said.

Ron assumed she had considered that herself, at least hypothetically.

"Both are likely explanations, though some of those spells might have been cast to prevent such shenanigans," Dumbledore told them. "However, this poses a problem for our plan." His smile turned rather wry. "The Ministry might not care, but if such behaviour is or was common, then Gringotts might have developed procedures to deal with fraudulent claims against them."

"And they could sell us out if they realise we're using a fake identity," Ron said. "Worse, they might wonder why we're using a fake identity for me, since I should have one already, and investigate."

"Indeed." Dumbledore's usually jovial expression turned serious as he spoke. "We should, therefore, verify whether or not the goblins have access to such records before we embark on our own operation."

"That could be tricky," wizarding George said. "Very few people have ever managed to successfully break into Gringotts. In fact, we only know of two of them - Voldemort and our very own Hermione, Harry and Ron. Our Ron. And it's debatable whether or not Voldemort counts since he didn't get what he wanted."

"I think my involvement in the - completely justified - break-in won't help matters. The goblins will have fixed the hole in Gringotts' security that we used to break in," Hermione pointed out, smiling ruefully. "Should we plan to approach them about this, then we shouldn't mention my involvement; it will only serve to antagonise them."

"Do they value revenge over profit, then?" Dumbledore asked.

"They prefer to make a profit and get their revenge, but… it's hard to say which they'd favour if they had to choose," she replied. "Gringotts lost a lot of face over our actions - they prided themselves on having perfect security, and we certainly damaged that reputation. Repairing the damage we caused by letting a dragon rampage through the bank must also have been expensive."

"I see." Dumbledore nodded. "How, if I may ask, did you bypass their security?"

"We combined Polyjuice Potion with muggle disguises," Hermione told him. "That way, I looked the part at the entrance, and when the potion's effect was cancelled by the Thief's Downfall - a goblin invention - I didn't change in a noticeable way."

"How did you manage that?" Harry asked.

"We were fortunate that I was very close in height to my target, Bellatrix Lestrange. A veil and some padding did the rest, combined with specially cut clothes." Hermione grimaced a little. "It was still a close call, though - it didn't fool the protections inside the vault, and even though we overcame them, that tipped off the guards."

"A sticky situation, indeed. But you managed to escape - a feat few could have duplicated, I imagine." Dumbledore smiled widely.

"We were lucky that the goblins used maltreated dragons for security," she replied. "And it was extremely close even so."

"Muggle disguises… why hasn't anyone else tried that?" wizarding Fred wondered aloud.

"It was only recently - relatively - that Muggle disguises reached a level of sophistication which would allow them to pass a goblin inspection," Hermione explained.

"I guess they've also developed counters to shrunken intruders," Ron said.

"Yes. There are ways around it - but all of them require at least one person to pass the goblin identification checks," Hermione told them.

"Then it looks like we'll have to use the human element. Or goblin, in this case," Dumbledore said. He was smiling widely. "I'm looking forward to the challenge of turning a goblin."

"You want to bribe a goblin?" Wizarding Fred shook his head. "That won't work. They'll take your money, and then they'll sell you out to their superiors. And get a promotion in the process for foiling a wizard trying to rob Gringotts."

"I'm quite familiar with that particular danger. In my old business, every attempt to turn an enemy risked getting fooled by - or creating - a double agent. Nevertheless, I was successful more often than not. However, I've never done this with a goblin." Dumbledore beamed at them.

"You've never dealt with a goblin, have you?" wizarding George asked.

"No, I haven't. But that is easily rectified," Dumbledore said.

"If Dumbledore's long-lost twin brother appears, the goblins will assume something weird is going on," Ron pointed out. That would be counterproductive.

"Indeed. Fortunately, they won't meet a Dumbledore."

*****​

Diagon Alley, London, Wizarding World, March 1st, 2006

Gringotts did look very impressive. Wide stairs leading up to a front made of white marble, massive pillars decorating it, a gate that looked solid enough to stop a tank and armoured goblins guarding all the entrances.

And those were just the visible parts. According to Hermione and the wizarding twins, the building's wards were amongst the strongest in the country - and older than Wizarding Britain itself, only beaten, although soundly, by those of Hogwarts.

And even though the guards were wearing medieval-style armour and weapons, they looked rather impressive as well. "Goblins in half-plate," he muttered, "with polearms. If I'd brought this up in a game, you'd have called me a fool."

Harry, standing next to him, snorted. "We aren't playing games."

"Dumbledore might not know that," Ron said, watching the old man, disguised, walk up the stairs, in the company of Rosengarten. "He sounded like this was all a game to him."

"Well, he's risking his own neck, not ours," Harry replied.

Though Ron was convinced that if he and the others didn't have to stay out of Gringotts for a variety of reasons, they would likely be with Dumbledore at this moment.

As it was, Harry, Hermione and Ron himself were, in disguise, supposed to be the reserve element of this operation. Not that he thought that their chances of successfully intervening if Dumbledore got into trouble with the goblins were good - unless an altercation happened on the stairs, they would have to break into the bank to reach the old man, and that was a quite tall order for two muggles and one witch, no matter their combat experience.

On the other hand, it wasn't as if Dumbledore was trying anything dangerous - this was just the first contact, so to speak. And the old spymaster would be playing it straight - a squib, recently emigrated from America, looking to sell some 'family heirlooms', which the goblins would assume to have been looted in the last war on the East Coast. Nothing dangerous at all. Just a business transaction. And if he sold low enough, the goblins would be looking forward to his next visit.

But a good police officer always worried, even about things out of their control. Goblins weren't humans and would have a vastly different culture, and Dumbledore might be a little too smug or optimistic. Unlikely, but not impossible.

He felt a hand grip his own and suddenly realised that he had been staring at the bank in silence for a while. "Thanks," he whispered, smiling at Hermione.

She nodded in return. "They'll be alright. They have no known connection to me, and the goblins don't have a reason to suspect anything."

Well, she had experience with the goblins, so he was inclined to believe her. "Unless they think they'll make a net profit, all things considered, if they simply take all his 'wares', then claim he was trying to rob them. Since he's posing as a foreigner, they might be tempted to go for the short-term profit," Harry said.

"I trust Mr Dumbledore to convince the goblins that there's more profit for them if they work with him," Hermione retorted. "Assuming otherwise is mere speculation."

"He asked us to form a reserve in case something goes wrong," Harry told her. "He wouldn't have done that if he were convinced everything would go smoothly."

"He's covering all the bases," Hermione snapped.

"Or he just wants to know what we'll be doing so we don't ruin any of his other plans," Ron pointed out.

"Then we'd have Fred and George's counterparts here," Harry told him.

"They would ruin his plans out of sheer boredom," Ron shot back with a grin.

"They've matured a great deal, in my opinion," Hermione cut in. "I think their attitude is mostly an act now. They're businessmen, married and have a daughter."

Ron frowned. He wouldn't agree with that assessment - his own brothers certainly hadn't matured much. Although Hermione had a good point - having a family would have changed their counterparts. That, and the war they had lived through. Ron's brothers hadn't gone through anything like that.

"It doesn't really matter if they are genuine or putting on an act if they mess up," Harry said.

"They fought in the war; they wouldn't fool around on a mission," Hermione replied.

"Unless they thought it would be harmless?" Ron smiled wryly. His brothers weren't stupid, but a few of their mistakes had been dangerous. Like producing fireworks at home. Fortunately, the fire hadn't spread.

Hermione pressed her lips together and frowned at him. "They know that they can't underestimate the goblins. And neither can we."

There was no danger of that. Ron wasn't about to underestimate a magical species, whether or not they were allowed to wield wands.

*****​

Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, March 1st, 2006

"...and the goblin, Mr Grimclaw, was most eager," Dumbledore told them with a sly smile in the briefing room in the lab. "Of course, his first offer was about a tenth of the worth of our 'heirlooms' - which is, even for a fence buying stolen goods, rather low - and we had to haggle quite passionately. I do believe I've impressed him, at least a little."

"Never show weakness to a goblin," wizarding Fred said. "That's what Dad always told us. That, and 'never trust anything that can think for itself if you can't see where it keeps its brain'."

"That wasn't quite as useful as far as advice goes," wizarding George commented. "Though Mum's reaction when we removed all the mirrors from The Burrow was funny."

"Not as funny as Ginny's, though," his brother added. "Of course, that was before…"

"Yes," Hermione snapped, glaring at both of them. "And entirely beside the point."

"Quite," Dumbledore agreed. "I will visit the bank again in a few days, to sell more 'heirlooms', and I will see if I can ask about record keeping as well."

"As long as you don't give them ideas about manipulating records themselves," Rosengarten added. "That would be… problematic."

"I would imagine so, yes." Dumbledore smiled. "And while that might spur the Ministry to protect the records, it would hamper our own efforts." He inclined his head. "In any case, things are, so far, proceeding according to plan."

Ron really wanted to tell the old man that he had just jinxed them. And on Ron's birthday, too.

*****​

The Burrow, Ottery St Catchpole, Devon, Britain, Wizarding World, March 1st, 2006

"Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, dear Ro-ons, happy birthday to you!"

Ron leaned forward with his counterpart, and they managed to blow out all the candles on the cake.

Of course, the twins had replaced half of the candles with joke candles that re-ignited as soon as they were out, but that was to be expected. Wizarding Ron cancelled them with a wave of his wand and Mrs Weasley scolded her sons.

And Hermione looked like she wanted to scold them as well.

"Not going to, ah, hex them?" Ron asked her, sotto voce.

She shook her head. "It would only encourage them, and it would be rude to do so in The Burrow. It's not my home, after all."

"So you'd do it at the lab?"

She snorted. "You're almost as bad as they are."

"I grew up with their counterparts." He shrugged with a grin. "Even Percy can hold his own against them in a verbal spar." Otherwise, Ron's brother would probably have gone mad.

"Ah." She nodded again. "Would you have preferred to celebrate your birthday at home?"

"I've celebrated most of my birthdays at home," he replied.

"That's not an answer to my question." She was frowning a little.

Busted. "No, it's not," he admitted. "But I don't mind celebrating my birthday here." Not really. "I couldn't go flying back home, could I?" He grinned.

"Well… if I disillusioned you, or if you used an Invisibility Cloak, you could. We've got the brooms."

"That's true. But I'd miss out on watching someone else's home being overrun and descending into chaos." He nodded towards the cake, which was under assault by half a dozen kids - well, five: Roger, Victoire, James, Jean and Beatrice - while Mrs Weasley valiantly tried to uphold tradition. "You can't cut it before the birthday boys have had the first slice!"

Uh oh. "Ron!" "Uncle Ron!" "Dad!" "You need to eat!" "We're starving!" "Don't forget the muggle Ron. We need both eating!" "Can't Dad just take two slices?" "That's not how it works!" "Please, Mr Ron!"

"Ron! What are you doing?"

"Luna?" Ron turned his head and saw that both Lunas, his own in a rather thin disguise, were glaring at him.

"I can tell you what he isn't doing: cutting the cake!" Luna said. "And unless you're currently busy saving the world, you've got no excuse for failing to do your duty and cutting the cake!"

Since wizarding Luna was twirling her wand between her fingers, it was probably - despite the 'no hexing inside' rule - safer to get on with it. Getting between Luna and pudding was never a good idea, and Ron didn't trust the various kids too much, either.

As soon as he and his counterpart had had their slices - Hermione insisted on testing them for pranks, though she didn't find anything - the kids all but climbed over each other to be next in line. Which quickly developed into a row, which kept the kids from getting any cake for a few more minutes.

Ron valiantly resisted the temptation to get another slice before the kids were sorted out by a rather loud Mrs Weasley. His counterpart didn't, he noted, which started a round of complaining, protesting and whining that only stopped once every kid had their share of cake.

And then the adults could enjoy their cake as well.

"It's remarkable," Ron commented as he finished his slice.

"Hmm?" Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"Even with all the magic being thrown around," he explained, "it feels a lot like home. Actually, the biggest difference isn't the magic, but the kids."

"Ah, yes. None of your siblings has any children yet." Hermione looked pensive. "It's actually quite common for wizards to have kids early. At least in Britain."

"Ah. And it's different at home."

"Yes." She nodded. "Of course, witches who want to focus entirely on raising a family aren't the norm here, either." Her glance towards Lavender left no doubt that she didn't consider that a good life choice.

Ron nodded, even though he didn't entirely agree with her - raising kids who could accidentally curse you was a little more demanding than raising kids who, at worst, might accidentally set their room on fire. Granted, Hermione had told him that accidental magic was almost never actually dangerous - but that didn't mean it would never happen.

Still, looking at the Potter twins charming Mrs Weasley out of a third slice of cake, and Beatrice chatting animatedly with the Lunas, Ron couldn't help wondering if he'd ever have a kid or two of his own. And if they'd be a wizard or witch. And if he judged Harry and Ginny's expression correctly - with their disguises, it was a little difficult - he wasn't the only one wondering. Although… "Where are Roger and Victoire?"

Hermione looked around. "They were just here… I'd expect them to be asking for another serving of cake. That, or…"

A whooping noise from outside interrupted her, followed by Mrs Weasley yelling: "Roger! Victoire! Both of you get down at once! How did you get into the shed, anyway?"

Beatrice looked a little guilty, as did her fathers, but Ron wasn't sure if anyone other than Harry and himself had caught that.

Well, it wouldn't be a Weasley celebration without some excitement. "Want to go flying now?" he asked.

"I think that's a good idea," Hermione replied before looking surprised for some reason.

*****​

"Come on! Let's fly!"

She didn't want to straddle the broom and fly. And not just because the broom Ron had handed her was old and, therefore, more likely to have defective enchantments. No, soaring in the sky sounded great - until you remembered that all that kept you from falling to your death were your hands and thighs gripping a thin shaft of wood.

She blushed. That sounded almost like some of the passages in those romance novels she didn't read, but she was thinking about an actual broom. Not some… euphemism. "I don't feel like it," she said, raising her chin.

"Are you sick?"

"What? No! I just don't feel like flying today!" Or any day until she learned a spell to keep herself from falling to her death.

"Why not? The weather's great, the wind's a gentle breeze and Ginny isn't here to annoy us!"

"It's just… I don't feel like it!" she insisted.

"But…" He frowned, then his eyes widened. "Are you afraid of flying?"

"No, I'm not!" she spat. She was merely appropriately cautious. "I took all my flying lessons last year, didn't I?"

"Well, yes, but the point of those lessons is that, afterwards, you can fly! And try out for the Quidditch team!" He beamed at her. "Think of it as an exam! You wouldn't want me to beat you in a test, would you?"

As if she cared about getting beaten at broom flying! But to be thought a coward or unable to fly? That would hurt.

Gritting her teeth, she nodded. "Let's go flying."

*****​

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 64: The Goblins

Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, March 2nd, 2006

"Well, Mum's not pleased about my decision to celebrate my birthday in another world," Ron said.

"What do you mean?" Hermione looked up from her ever-growing notes.

He held up the package with his birthday gift. "It arrived a day late, and the home-made fudge is half the usual size," he explained.

"Ah." She nodded. "The other Molly has similar ways of expressing her disagreement with certain choices. Although... didn't you explain that it was the safer choice to celebrate in my world?"

"She probably thought that was just an excuse," he replied. It hadn't been just an excuse, but it hadn't not been one, either.

"Ah." She shrugged. "Well, she'll come round?" She cocked her head.

"In time." Mum didn't hold grudges like Ginny - who still brought up certain events from their childhood when she was mad at him - did, but it took time for her to forgive. Especially if it might require her to admit she hadn't been entirely right about something or someone.

"Time… ask me for anything but time." Hermione sighed.

"We're working on everything we can," he told her. "Dumbledore's busy with the goblins, we're working on the Fidelius Charm…"

"And we still need a plan to test ways of destroying a Dementor," she said.

"That's not as urgent as providing the Ministry with enough funding that they can abolish Azkaban," he retorted.

"Bribing them to abolish Azkaban," she corrected him.

He shrugged. "As long as the prison is abolished... the end justifies the means?" He didn't have to point out that they had already broken a lot of laws dealing with the Russians and their stooges.

She frowned, then sighed. "I still don't like it. You shouldn't have to bribe the government to do the right thing."

"Don't tell our government that - some of the ministers might die from shock," he joked.

She didn't laugh. "I just want this to be over."

He hesitated a moment, then asked: "Do you feel responsible for it? Azkaban, I mean."

"No, of course not," she replied - a little too quickly, he thought. "I didn't install it. Or want it to continue. But if I could make it disappear and didn't do so, I would be responsible."

Ah. "Do you think your friends are responsible?"

Another sigh. "I don't think so. They're just… They have different priorities."

He made a noncommittal sound.

"I think they're just… too close to the Ministry."

"They're part of the Ministry," he told her.

"Yes." She frowned at him. "They're caught up in all the paperwork and the meetings and the presentations, and the budget numbers. All the politics. And they forget that certain things shouldn't be subject to compromises or deals."

"Slippery slope?"

"No!" She shook her head. "They're not corrupt - not in the sense of the saying. But they're… I don't know."

"Part of the system?" He shrugged. "Luna had similar problems with my choice of job."

"And you worked through it."

"Yes. For a while, we couldn't talk politics. Well, that wasn't unusual - Mum forbade talking about politics after Luna and Percy had a go at each other when they both were teens."

"I can imagine," she replied.

He snorted. "Yes. Anyway, we just… didn't talk about my job or her activities for a time."

"And that worked?"

"Well, we could always talk about books and games, TV shows, music, movies…" He shrugged again.

And she frowned again. "We didn't have much like that to talk about during the war. Harry and Ron had Quidditch, but… the muggleborn players had been banned, and that gave any talk of Quidditch a sour taste. And neither of them was much of a reader, not that I had many books with me that weren't needed for the war, so…" She closed her eyes. "We mostly talked about school. What we did and what we missed."

"Homework and studying?" He grinned at her.

She frowned at him but she chuckled as well. "Not often. And now both of them are married with children, and so…"

"...they talk about their kids all the time." Ron had experienced that himself with some school mates who had gotten married after finishing school.

"Yes, and I can't really contribute. I'm an only child, so I can't even relate to having siblings."

"Didn't babysit either, hmm?"

"No." The 'of course not' remained unsaid, but Ron still heard it clearly.

Yet… "Have you ever thought about having kids?"

"I don't have time for kids. Not with everything that needs to be done."

"I mean once you have the time," he said. "Have you ever imagined having kids?"

"Who hasn't, at least once?" She shook her head. "But it's all pointless if we don't resolve our current problems."

He nodded, and they went back to researching wordings for her spell.

*****​

Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, March 4th, 2006

"I have good and bad news," Dumbledore announced. "I shan't ask you which you want to hear first, though," he added with a smile that was just a little less sly than his usual one. "The good news is that I have successfully confirmed that Gringotts has sealed copies of a number of records dating back centuries. Which is also the bad news."

Ron suppressed a groan.

Harry frowned. "They don't have copies of every single record, then?"

"No, they don't. Unfortunately, they have been keeping track of wizarding families, and the Weasley family is a rather old one as well as a prominent one, so I fear we have to assume that the goblins possess copies of the records we altered." Dumbledore sighed, though Ron couldn't help feeling that the old man wasn't quite as unhappy about this development as he was acting.

"That's a logical assumption," Hermione agreed. "And while they don't offer any of the services of a solicitor, it's quite obvious that knowing about inheritances and who is eligible for them might well be very profitable."

"Especially if they know who doesn't know about a vault they inherited," Ron added. The goblins could keep the contents of a vault if they were the only ones who knew an heir existed. Or they could sell the information to others - such as heirs lower down the line.

"But that means we need to break into Gringotts. Again," Hermione complained, sighing genuinely.

"Well, there are alternatives to breaking into the bank, although they require turning a goblin - and, as with humans, I don't think one should trust a traitor, even if they are working for one's own side, with crucial information. It would be too easy for them to turn that into leverage," Dumbledore said. With a smile, he added: "Therefore, I agree with your assessment."

"But that'll be very, very difficult. We managed it before, but our plan won't work again. They check for muggle disguises on the way to the vaults nowadays," Hermione told them. "I asked my friends. Without giving the game away," she added with a frown.

"Oh, I wasn't planning to copy your - quite effective and ingenious - plan, Dr Granger." Dumbledore's lips twisted into a hint of a smirk. "Although I am planning to use something you stumbled upon during your own mission."

Hermione blinked. "Dragons?"

"Correct."

"Dragons?" Harry asked.

"To be precise, the information that the goblins kept dragons chained up - and that one of the dragons went on a rampage inside the bank. You never found out what happened to the animal, did you?"

"It didn't break out of the bank, so I assume it was either killed or subdued;" Hermine replied. "But what exactly are you planning?"

Dumbledore's smile widened.

*****​

Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, March 9th, 2006

Goblins Torture Poor Helpless Dragons!

Statute of Secrecy In Danger Because of Gringotts?

Diagon Alley Was Almost Destroyed In Dragon Rampage!

Goblins: Die Unerkannte Gefahr

Gier der Goblins Gefährdet Drachen

Gobelins et Dragons: Un Mélange Explosif Pour Tout Le Monde

"It looks like Dumbledore's media campaign is off to a good start," Ron commented after looking through the half a dozen newspapers and magazines on Hermione's desk.

"It seems so," she replied, pursing her lips.

He frowned a little. "What's wrong?"

"With the exception of The Quibbler, none of the newspapers or magazines is from Britain," she explained. "It's obvious that this is a campaign."

"As long as it leads to the result we want?" He shrugged.

"We could've kidnapped a goblin, interrogated them and then obliviated them," she said.

"If we found a goblin who knows what we want," he retorted. "Which is probably difficult." More difficult than finding a corrupt politician, at least. More dangerous as well.

"This just feels too... " She waved her hand. "Too complicated. Too convoluted. All this just to get someone inside the bank to look at the tunnels?"

"That's probably the point," he said. "Who would suspect us to go to such length?"

She raised her eyebrows. "My Harry and Ron?"

"But they won't oppose us, will they?"

"No, they won't. They already know we're planning something, but they won't stop us," she admitted.

They wouldn't stop her - Ron had no doubt that Hermione's friends would be acting differently if she weren't involved. "So what's really bothering you?"

She sighed once more. "Dumbledore's too smooth. Running undercover missions in Wizarding Britain? Now a press campaign involving the Americas, Magical Prussia and Magical France? A few months ago, he hadn't even set foot in this world."

He nodded with a wry smile that lacked any humour. "I wouldn't want him as an enemy."

"I don't want that either," she replied. "And he isn't our enemy. We have the same goals."

But what if their goals started to differ?

*****​

Grimmauld Place, London, Britain, March 10th, 2006

"You haven't played in any tournaments since last summer. Many experts are wondering about your ability to keep up with the top ten players on the Tour. How are you feeling about your chances?" The journalist asked, her notebook ready even though a recorder was running on the couch table in Sirius's living room.

Ginny smiled widely, but Ron saw that she was leaning back a little in her seat. She wasn't as confident as she was trying to appear. "Actually, I've used the time away to train hard - I'm fitter than ever!"

The journalist wasn't letting up, though. "But you haven't played a professional match in months. Such a lack of practice has often proved fatal for other top ten players trying to make a comeback."

Ginny showed more teeth. "Well, we'll have to see about that, won't we? I'm planning to give a good showing at the French Open."

"So you'll be using the time until then to acquire match practice?"

"I never play a game just to practice," Ginny retorted.

"Well, you certainly aren't lacking confidence. Now there've been a lot of rumours about your break. You dropped off the face of the earth, and with your boyfriend involved in the Granger affair, which shook Britain and culminated in several violent incidents with high body counts, you must have been under a lot of stress."

"Those were some very stressful months, yes. But that's in the past, now."

The woman leaned forward. "Anything in particular that was especially stressful?"

Harry, sitting next to Ginny, frowned. Ron did the same - this was supposed to be an interview for a sports magazine. But that question seemed to be more aimed at asking about the whole affair, not tennis.

Ginny, too, had realised that. "I'm not going into details. We're here to talk about tennis," she said. "Your next question?"

"Sorry. Since you haven't played in months, you've lost a lot of points and therefore fell out of the top ten. Has that influenced your choice of tournaments?"

Ginny smiled widely. "I've already secured a wild card for the French Open as well as for Wimbledon. People have been quite understanding about my circumstances, for which I am grateful."

Ron suppressed a chuckle. People understood how popular Ginny was - even or especially after her involvement in the 'Granger affair'. And there was no way Wimbledon wouldn't do everything they could to have the best female British tennis player take part in the tournament. The added notoriety would draw larger audiences.

He didn't quite tune out, but he relaxed a little as the next questions were focused on tennis again. Things were returning to normal, at least in this area.

*****​

Ginny sighed as soon as the door had closed behind the journalist. "I hate her! Did you notice how she was fishing for information?"

"She's a journalist; that's her job," Ron replied.

"Information about Hermione's portal, not tennis - she didn't even try to get any gossip about our relationship," Ginny added with a glance at Harry.

"For which I am grateful," he replied. "I'm also happy she didn't try to pry answers out of me."

"She probably knew it wouldn't work," Ron commented.

"And she thought it would work on me?" Ginny shook her head. "I've been handling interviews for years! There've been times when I've had more interviews in a few months than you've had in your whole life! Why would she think I would let something slip? I've got the most experience of handling the press out of all of us! I've got a good mind to call her boss and complain!"

"That would only confirm that you know classified information," Ron pointed out. "Or start rumours about another crisis between you two. Like when we were guarding that princess." That hadn't been a fun month for anyone involved.

"Don't remind me! That was your fault, anyway." Ginny huffed.

"My fault?" Ron stared at her.

"If you had been more seductive, the press would've thought she was having an affair with you instead of trying to pin it on Harry!"

Ron scoffed. "Really? You think I should've seduced a spoilt princess who made Malfoy look like a humble saint just to spare you some gossip?"

"Can we skip the sibling squabble?" Harry cut in.

Ron nodded.

"Alright," Ginny agreed after a moment. Then she turned to Ron again. "And how is the work on Hermione's big spell coming along, anyway? I would like to be able to play at Roland Garros without having to worry about being kidnapped by spies."

"We're working on the wording."

"You've been 'working on the wording' for weeks!"

"Well, you can't rush these things. If something goes wrong, it could have disastrous consequences. Like people forgetting about you," he added with a toothy grin.

"Well, you don't need a spell to be forgettable!"

"What did I just say about not doing this?"

*****​

Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, March 13th, 2006

"How are you doing?" Ron asked wizarding Fred and wizarding George - from the door of their recently installed laboratory, of course. You never knew when their experiments would have 'interesting' results.

"Hmm? Oh, we're doing fine, Ron - other Ron," wizarding George replied.

"Hermione's Ron," his brother added.

"And what are you doing?" Last he'd heard, they had finished their inspection of the magical defences, but Hermione wanted to go over their proposed additions before implementing them.

"We're working on stones that are enchanted with Muggle-Repelling Charms," wizarding George explained.

Ron frowned - he wasn't a wizard, and he wasn't an expert, but… "Isn't that already a thing?" he asked.

"Well, if it is, we haven't heard of it. Usually, such charms are cast on a place. Our method will allow you to cast them on a rock, and then take the rock with you."

"Or drop it off somewhere."

"Ah." That would provide some advantages to casting the spell. Although… "Is there a demand for that?" Wouldn't a Disillusionment Charm work better if you wanted to hide? Coupled with a Shrinking Charm? People suddenly avoiding a particular space would be distinctive to an observer - at least to other wizards.

"Well…" Wizarding Fred grinned. "We've got a huge pre-order for this."

"'Huge pre-order'?" Ron blinked. Who would… Oh, no! "Luna."

Both wizards nodded. "She wants as many of these rocks as possible. So we're looking into runes to make one spell affect multiple rocks," wizarding George explained. "That would greatly speed up the process."

And allow the Lunas to actually create the nature reserves they wanted. "You're creating these rocks here?" They would drive out everyone except themselves and Hermione!

"Oh, no! Not with the Muggle-Repelling Charm! Do you think we're fools?" wizarding Fred asked.

"Don't answer that, please," his brother added. "We're testing it with a warming charm."

"If it works, we can sell them as well. They should be quite popular in Scotland. Or in other countries."

"We're thinking of 'Hot Rocks' as a product name, but we're not yet sold on that."

Ron didn't care about the name for that product. He cared - very much, actually - that the twins and the Lunas had apparently met and made a deal. "And how are the Lunas going to pay?" he asked. Neither of them was wealthy, and making so many stones had to be expensive. Although if that slowed down their plans...

"They gave us the idea," wizarding Fred said. "And it has so many applications… I guess once we teach our Luna how to do it, we're even."

"And even so… imagine helping to fool millions of muggles into thinking they have no business in those areas."

Both wizards grinned at him.

Ron closed his eyes. This was… bad, he guessed. Very bad. Although it could be worse. If anyone ever gave them the idea of self-replicating spells or items… They better never read some of his science fiction novels.

*****​

Once Hermione and Ron were back in her lab while wizarding Fred and wizarding George were presumably trying to develop said items, he asked: "How likely are they to create self-replicating spells or items?"

Hermione blinked. "Oh my…" She bit her lower lip. "As far as I know, it's impossible. You can't create spells with spells. Although an item that casts a spell on an item… that should be possible. In theory. In practice… no one has managed to develop such an item, and given the constraints that the need to cast individual spells on enchanted items put on the wizarding economy, I think if it were possible, someone would have done it already."

Ron nodded, feeling relieved - mostly. He didn't like to brag about his family, but his brothers were quite ingenious. And so were their wizarding counterparts.

*****​

Diagon Alley, London, Wizarding World, March 17th, 2006

"I still can't really get over the fact that it took less than two weeks for the ICW to send an inspection team to Gringotts," Ron said as he watched almost two dozen wizards and witches enter the bank under the watchful eyes of the goblin guards.

Hermione, who, like him, was in disguise, snorted. "It isn't that surprising. First, Gringotts is technically a sovereign country, but isn't part of the ICW. Ever since the last of the goblin rebellions, Wizarding Britain has controlled its foreign policies, and Britain's standing in the ICW sank after Dumbledore's death and the war. While sending an inspection to Britain in response to newspaper articles would set a precedent no wizarding country wants, sending one to Gringotts circumvents that. The unwritten rules don't apply to goblins, apparently, and yet this will nevertheless be counted against Britain."

Ron winced. So their 'spy mission' had already damaged Wizarding Britain's international standing? They were off to a good start, and they hadn't even set foot in Gringotts. But… "And second?"

She took a sip from her tea. "Second, I'm quite sure Dumbledore greased some wheels, so to speak. At dinner last week, Percy was complaining about unexpected support for the motion proposing this inspection from the New World - among them the representative of the Free Republic of Maine and Vermont. Who, incidentally, is part of the inspection team."

"Ah." Ron nodded. Rosengarten's help, no doubt.

"Corruption is endemic in the magical world," she said.

"In the muggle world as well," he replied. Though usually a little more subtle, through lobbyists and lucrative contracts after leaving office.

"I'm aware of that," she told him. "It doesn't make it acceptable."

He didn't shrug. "At least we can use it for our own purposes."

She frowned some more. "We shouldn't have to."

"We also shouldn't have to break into Gringotts. For the second time."

She glared at him, but when he smiled at her in return, she - after a few seconds - sighed and smiled back.

*****​

Black Lake, Scotland, March 19th, 2006

"Mr Blackburn was most helpful," Dumbledore said with a smile that was a shade more smug than usual, pointing at a set of floor plans on the wall of the lounge. "Working with him and Dr Granger, I believe we have managed to pinpoint the location of the Gringotts archives."

"It looks like it's all the way down on the lowest floor," Harry commented.

"Not exactly. There are more floors below that one - the oldest vaults, or so I've been told."

"And they decided to open up all the floors to one giant shaft?" Ron frowned. That meant the goblins had abandoned most of the security that digging so deep had gained them.

"It's more that the goblins didn't fill up the shaft - it was originally a mine, as far as we know," Hermione explained. "They converted the mining tunnels into vaults as they ran dry - originally for their treasures. After several wars, they had lost those treasures, though, and the reparations they were forced to pay were too high for their remaining revenue from mining. They could've sold their items - goblin-made tools of all sorts are very expensive - but that would've gone against their traditions, so they decided to offer their vaults to wizards."

"And people trusted them?" Ron shook his head. If anyone had proposed letting the Germans take over the banking business in London after the war…

"Wizarding Britain had beaten the goblins in every war - that's why they're called rebellions, not wars, in the official records," Hermione went on. "If the goblins had dared to betray their customers, the consequences would likely have been fatal for the goblins."

"That sounds like a recipe for abuse. What stopped the wizards from claiming the goblins stole from their vaults?" Harry asked.

"Scrupulous bookkeeping - and, most importantly, sealed copies of every single record," Hermione said. "Their copies of the muggle records don't go as far back as we feared, but they still cover over two hundred years."

Ron blinked. "And protecting those records meant protecting themselves against fraudulent claims from their customers."

Hermione grimaced. "Yes. We have to assume that they are better protected than most of their vaults."

That was, in light of the stories Hermione had told him about Gringotts, a very sobering thought. And how are we planning to do this?" he asked. It sounded as if breaking into Fort Knox - without magic - would be easier.

Dumbledore smiled. "We won't be breaking into the archives - we'll make the goblins deliver the records we need to us."

Oh. Clever - if it worked.

"You want to challenge their records," Harry said.

Dumbledore nodded. "Twice, actually. Once so we can find out how their records look and how they are presented, and then again to switch or alter them." He smiled widely. "As I found out during my time as a field agent, it's far easier to break into the office of a Swiss court than into the vaults of a Swiss bank. I have no doubt that it is the same for Gringotts."

*****​

Ministry of Magic, Whitehall, London, Wizarding World, March 22nd, 2006

Breaking into a Swiss court might have been easier than breaking into a Swiss bank's vault, but breaking into the Ministry of Magic wasn't child's play, either. Although it didn't compare to breaking into the Kremlin, in Ron's opinion.

And he wasn't entirely convinced that using muggle means 'because the Ministry will only guard against magic' was the best course of action. Even though it meant that he got to take an active part instead of yet another wizard. Wouldn't the magical defences work against both magical and muggle means, anyway? But Hermione was confident that this would work.

So he sighed as he listened to the over-eager young witch telling him all about how difficult it was for a muggle to buy property in magical locations. And 'difficult' meant 'impossible', from what he could tell - the clerk was just too polite to say so to his face. If he hadn't been Hermione's fiancé, he probably wouldn't have even been granted a personal meeting with even a junior clerk in the Ministry.

It didn't actually matter - he was only here so he could place a few bugs in the room - but it was still annoying. On the other hand, Wizarding Britain wasn't the only country trying to keep foreigners from buying up their real estate.

When the witch had gone through all the supposed problems of verifying someone's identity when they couldn't use a wand for the second time, he cleared his throat. "Ah, excuse me - do you know where I could get a glass of water? I'm feeling a little parched."

"Oh!" She all but jumped up - she was probably as tired of this charade as he was and needed the break since she didn't just conjure a glass of water. "Don't worry! I'll fetch you a glass! I'll be right back." Good. That meant he didn't have to step it up and have her call her superior to get her out of the room.

As soon as she left the room, Ron stood as well and stretched before wandering around, admiring the artwork on the walls - and hiding a few enchanted bugs the twins' counterparts had come up with inside the room.

By the time the witch - Miss Browtuckle, he remembered her name now - returned, his mission was done. All that was left was another twenty minutes or so of listening to her explaining why the wizards didn't want muggle neighbours.

He'd suffered through worse meetings in the past.

*****​

Black Lake, Scotland, March 24th, 2006

Hermione sighed as she leaned back and paused the recording - which had been digitised from a film from a magical camera. The face of Madam Rosemarie Blinkelstorf froze on the screen. The old witch had been meeting with representatives of Gringotts regarding the ownership of her house and the surrounding area, which had been suddenly and surprisingly challenged. At least according to the documents she had been sent - the Ministry would be surprised about their actual origin.

Hermione pointed at the heavy chest, reinforced with metal bands, that two goblins carried inside, behind the goblin delegation's leader, with four more goblins guarding them. "If that chest is enchanted to block spells - and there's no reason to assume it isn't, given the rest of the security we've identified - then I don't see a way to switch the records before the goblins take them out to unseal them."

Ron nodded. "Not magically, at least."

"Yes." She frowned slightly as she looked at him. "Not to mention that we would have to copy the Gringotts' seal as well as the Ministry's seal."

"And that's not easy, I take it."

She shook her head. "Well, in the old Ministry, I would have said we could've borrowed the seal without anyone noticing, and then return it once we've prepared the fake documents. It would be very difficult today, I assume. But the Gringotts' seal? I wouldn't claim that it's impossible, but I don't know any method of successfully duplicating it. As with the enchantments that protect wizarding coins from being duplicated, the goblins guard those secrets very well."

"Hmmm." He rubbed his chin. "But they do need to actually unseal the documents. Otherwise, the records couldn't be read."

"You sound as if you have an idea."

He nodded. "I think I do. But it requires very precise timing - and for that, we need to prepare the room so we can alert someone outside."

She bit her lower lip. "That's… more complicated than bugging the place. The spells on the room prevent people on the outside from listening in - but they didn't prevent bugs placed inside the room from recording the meeting to be recovered later."

He nodded again - he had gathered that much.

"So, a device that picks up a signal inside the room, then moves outside to pass it on would work."

"That would work, but the delay it would cause would make the timing very tricky," he said.

"Better than impossible," she retorted. "But what's your plan?"

"A distraction at the moment that they unseal the records. Then we can switch them."

"A distraction outside the room but noticeable inside?" She didn't look convinced. "That's a tall order. And it might draw attention to the meeting."

"Not if it's easily explainable," he said.

"We can't let the twins do it; they'll be the main suspects," she replied.

"It won't be anything dangerous, just… noticeable," he explained.

"That will just make even more people suspect them."

"Well… if they're going to be suspected anyway…" He smiled at her.

She scowled in return. "Harry and Ron will investigate. And the twins aren't clever enough to fool them, no matter what they might think."

Ron wasn't entirely sure if she was right or if she was overestimating her friends. On the other hand, his brothers hadn't been able to pull his or Harry's leg ever since they had started being trained by Moody, so she was probably right. Hmm. Oh. "Well, then we'll have to ask the Lunas for a suitable distraction." He grinned. "Probably not a dragon going out of control, though - you already did that."

She gaped at him for a moment before she shook her head. "Absolutely not!"

*****​

Unnamed Highlands, Scotland, March 24th, 2006

"Absolutely not!" Wizarding Luna shook her head so vehemently, her hair was almost flying around her face. "We won't let you risk a poor defenceless animal as a distraction! The Ministry guards would hurt it! Or even kill it!"

"Told you so," Hermione muttered next to Ron.

He glared at her. She didn't have to rub it in. But he wasn't willing to abandon his idea just yet. "Are there any animals the Ministry wouldn't kill? Or couldn't?"

"That might've worked before the war," Hermione told him. "But the current Aurors and Hit-Wizards are fairly competent. And Harry and Ron could handle any animal. Even a dragon."

"We don't have a dragon anyway," wizarding Luna said.

"I don't want to use a dragon," Ron said. "What about bugs? A swarm?"

"They would definitely kill them," wizarding Luna replied.

"And some of the magical pests are dangerous. Doxies are venomous, for example. Enough of them could seriously hurt a wizard or witch," Hermione added.

"Alright." Ron rubbed his chin. "No using animals. But conjured animals aren't real, are they?"

"No, but you can't conjure magical animals," Hermione explained. "You could transfigure something into a magical animal, but it would lack their innate magic. In order to create, say, a dragon, you'd have to add a lot more spells to allow the result to not only look like a dragon but to be able to fly and breathe fire - and it would still lack the dragon's innate resistance to spells and curses."

"I'm not planning to use a dragon," Ron repeated himself.

"Well, a dragon as a distraction for the goblins would be a classic," wizarding Luna said.

"Which is probably why they don't want to use a dragon," Luna added. "Even though no one would think we would use the same trick twice, so it would actually help with hiding our involvement."

That would only work with conspiracy theorists, Ron thought. But they had clashed over that in the past, and he wouldn't rehash it. "I'd rather not risk it."

"And a realistic dragon transfiguration would be far too dangerous to unleash on the Ministry," Hermione said.

"You did unleash a real dragon in Gringotts," wizarding Luna replied.

"Yes. And I don't want to do it again."

Ron cleared his throat before the Lunas could push Hermione - it was obvious she didn't want to talk about it. "Anyway. A swarm of conjured insects. Say… locusts."

"Oh, yes!" Luna smiled. "Use the swarming African locust - they eat paper and parchment! Imagine the government with most of its paperwork eaten!"

"No!" Hermione protested. "Imagine the damage that would do to the Ministry's records! Their work would be hampered!"

That was Luna's aim, of course. "I think the Ministry employees could contain the swarm, couldn't they?" Ron asked.

Hermione pressed her lips together for a moment. "Well… they should. But they might not be fast enough to stop such a swarm from devouring the files in a department."

"That would be an acceptable loss. I suggest the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures," wizarding Luna said. "They have the most intolerant policies with regards to magical creatures I've ever seen outside some enclaves in the New World. If not for pressure from the ICW and the business interests of potioneers, they might have eradicated several so-called 'pests'!"

"But they would be the quickest to react, wouldn't they?" Ron asked. "They would know how to protect their files."

"Most of them will probably be out, killing poor animals that just want to have a place of their own," wizarding Luna said.

"How do you plan to conjure such a large swarm without being noticed?" Luna asked.

"By preparing a 'cursed' object, I think," Ron said. "Like, say… a box that releases a huge swarm when opened."

"That sounds like something Fred and George would do," wizarding Luna said.

"And they would be the main suspects," Hermione pointed out.

"For the creation, yes - but not for its use." Ron grinned. "All they have to do is report it stolen."

"That sounds like a rather transparent excuse," Hermione retorted.

"That doesn't mean it won't work," Ron said. "As long as we avoid leaving traces. And leave the right traces for the Aurors investigating the theft. Besides, the other Harry and Ron wouldn't investigate the case since they're related to the victims, right?"

"Why wouldn't they?" Wizarding Luna looked surprised. "They'd know them best."

"The Ministry of Magic really needs better regulations for their Aurors," Ron muttered. "That would never fly in the Met."

"Don't tell me that you wouldn't have investigated a crime against your family." Hermione snorted as she frowned at him.

"Well, yes - but not officially," he admitted.

Hermione huffed. "Harry and Ron would realise who was behind this anyway as soon as they heard that your records were confirmed by Gringotts."

"Right." That meant they would have to ensure that the actual damage to the Ministry's paperwork was minimal. Oh, no! "Percy would know as well."

"Yes." Hermione smiled far too sweetly. "So… You better not use paper and parchment eating locusts. I suggest harmless but dangerous-looking animals."

She was right. Perhaps… "Death's-head hawkmoths!" he blurted out. "Harmless, but creepy!"

"Oh, yes." Hermione nodded. "That would work. A swarm of them would probably terrify some of the Ministry's employees."

"And the twins can claim that they developed it as a Halloween prank," Ron added.

*****​

"You know, I can't shake the feeling that something important - and bad - will happen today," Harry said. "It's Halloween. Something bad always happens on Halloween."

She frowned. "We haven't established that there actually is a correlation between the date and the events we experienced on that date in the past," she told him. "It could just be a coincidence."

"Well, Halloween traditionally is an important date," Ron said. "Some spells and rituals are supposed to work best on certain dates. Mum always casts certain household spells on the summer solstice."

"Yes. It's also known as Samhain," she told him. "And some dark spells might be tied to the date - but that doesn't mean that something bad will happen to us."

"Not to us. To me," Harry said with a gloomy face.

"None of the events which occurred on past Halloweens exclusively affected you." Really, sometimes Harry was a little… Well, it was understandable. "On our first Halloween, I was almost killed by a mountain troll, remember? And in second year, none of us was attacked, just Mrs Norris."

"Yes, but…" Harry shook his head. "I've got a bad feeling about today."

She suppressed a sigh. "Does your scar hurt?"

"No more than usual."

She nodded. Voldemort wasn't particularly active, then.

"Mate, we're in the middle of a forest, protected by a lot of spells and wards. If the Death Eaters were able to find us, they would've done so already," Ron chimed in. He clapped Harry on the shoulder. "Just relax. For once, we're safe from whatever might happen at Hogwarts. And so are all our friends."

Because none of them were at Hogwarts. But reminding them that the Death Eaters controlled the school would only make Harry feel worse. "Let's have a fancy dinner today," she said. At Ron's glance, she frowned. "I'm not suggesting I'll cook one."

He sighed in a very exaggerated manner that had her frowning and glaring at him - she was no chef, but she could cook just fine! But then she noticed that Harry was chuckling. Ah. She shook her head. "I suggest we use Polyjuice Potion and visit a restaurant. I know one in Wales, it's very good.

"Wales?" Ron didn't look convinced.

"The restaurant is French, with some Italian dishes on their menu," she explained.

"Ah! Sounds good!" He beamed at her, and, after some prodding, Harry started to smile as well.

Four hours later, they had to flee from the restaurant - Harry's scar was bleeding heavily, and he was screaming from the pain. And from what he had seen through Voldemort's eyes.

Voldemort was in Azkaban. Sacrificing people in a dark ritual.

*****​

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 65: The Birthday Party

Black Lake, Scotland, March 31st, 2006

"There was a break-in at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Someone stole a few prototypes from the store." Wizarding Ron, standing instead of sitting at the table in Ron and Hermione's room, stared at them - and, or so it seemed, in particular at Ron.

Ron privately wondered if he looked like that - had looked like that - when confronting suspects.

"Oh, no," Hermione said. "I hope they didn't lose much of their work - I know what it's like when you lose an experiment - though, with proper documentation, the damage should be limited."

"Do you know anything about it?" wizarding Harry asked.

"About documentation?" Hermione cocked her head, acting as if she was confused. She was trying a little too hard, in Ron's opinion.

And, judging by the glance her friends exchanged, they had seen through her act as well.

"Hermione," wizarding Ron said. "We know that there's something fishy going on. Fred and George aren't half as sly as they think they are."

"If someone had managed to break into their shop and steal their work, they would've been enraged - and concerned about their family's safety," wizarding Harry added. "They're great wizards, but they're not great actors."

"Why would I want to steal prank items?" Hermione replied. "You know what I'm working on."

"We know that the twins are working for you. Or for your Dumbledore," wizarding Harry told her. "And we know that this 'break-in' is just a cover."

"Plausible deniability," Ron agreed.

Both wizards were staring at him again. "'Plausible deniability'?" his counterpart asked.

"Someone stole the items from them. Whatever is done with them afterwards isn't the twins' fault any more," Ron explained.

"You're planning something," wizarding Ron said, narrowing his eyes at Ron before he frowned at Hermione. "And you don't want to tell us!"

"As Ron said: plausible deniability," she replied. "You can honestly claim you had no idea."

Wizarding Harry rolled his eyes. "We'll know as soon as we hear of whatever you've planned."

"But you won't have any proof," Ron pointed out with a grin, "so you won't be forced to act or break your oath or whatever you did when you took the post."

"Do you really think we'd come after you?" Ron's counterpart shook his head. "Merlin's balls, Hermione! You're our best friend."

"And you're mine - and that's why I don't want to force you to choose between me and wizarding law," she blurted out. "This is to protect you."

"That's just a technicality. We would still know you were behind whatever you're planning, and we would still decide not to come after you," wizarding Harry retorted. He leaned forward. "So, what are you planning?"

"We're involved in this now, anyway - we're the Ministry's best Aurors, so if we fail to solve a simple break-in, people will suspect us regardless," wizarding Ron added before Hermione could say anything. "Even though many burglaries remain unsolved. So we'll have to arrange a better cover for whatever you're up to."

Ron saw Hermione clench her teeth in annoyance. He could understand how she felt - hearing from his and Harry's counterparts that not only had they seen through their plan already but that said plan - which was mostly Ron's - wasn't just unneeded but also not very good? That was annoying.

But he wasn't a teenager any more - he could admit his mistakes. He didn't have to like it, though. "It was mostly meant to protect the twins," he explained. "We didn't think you'd be dragged into this like that." And Ron hadn't wanted to risk their plan by betting on their friendship with Hermione.

"Well, here we are," wizarding Harry said. "So what is this all about? We can't help you if we don't know what you need."

Hermione swallowed, then sniffled and then she went to hug both of them.

As moving as this was, Ron couldn't help feeling… not jealous. Envious. This had been his plan, and if it had worked, it would've been his success.

*****​

"...and that's about it. We're still working on exactly how to trigger the distraction," Hermione finished her explanation.

The two wizards nodded. "It's not a bad plan," wizarding Harry said.

"We've seen worse," Ron's counterpart added.

Ron managed not to sarcastically thank them.

"But the timing will be tricky."

We know that, Ron thought. "We can easily stall them for a few seconds after they've unsealed the records," he said. "Time enough for the bugs to swarm and the alert to be sounded."

His counterpart chuckled. "A swarm of death's-head hawkmoths in the Ministry - I know a few who'll wet themselves!"

"They're harmless insects," Hermione clarified. "They won't even bite anyone."

"Just scare them senseless." Wizarding Ron chuckled. "Oh, I can't wait to see it."

"That was another reason for not telling you," Ron said. "We wanted your reactions to be as authentic as possible." The other Ron wasn't a good actor, either.

Wizarding Ron waved his hand. "Don't worry - no one will be focusing on us when there's a swarm of large evil-looking bugs filling the room. And all to pull one over the goblins! The buggers deserve it - do you know they still hate us?"

"Yes," Hermione replied. "I've been avoiding the bank as much as possible."

"Anyway, we can help you with the timing. We could release the swarm in an out of the way room, and then open the doors and sound the alert just when you need it," wizarding Harry said.

That would be very helpful, Ron had to admit. Hermione didn't have to beam at her friends like that, though. It was still his plan.

*****​

Ottery St Mary, Devon, Britain, April 1st, 2006

"This is a bad idea," Ron muttered as he looked at his family home after closing the car door.

"It was your idea," Hermione told him.

"We can't skip another family celebration," he told her. "Mum wouldn't talk to either of us for months. And even Dad wouldn't be fine with it. And Fred and George might decide to hold a grudge as well if we skip their birthday." And that could spell disaster. The twins weren't wizards, but if they put their minds to it, they could cause a lot of trouble for just about anyone - especially since they knew the truth about Hermione and could exploit that. Which they totally would. They wouldn't actually betray them, but that was about the only line they wouldn't cross.

"At least we know that the building isn't under surveillance any more," Hermione said. "But Molly - my Molly - won't be happy, either."

"Well, we can't make everyone happy." He snorted. "Can you imagine trying to celebrate a birthday with all the Weasleys in attendance? Mum and her counterpart would drive each other spare!"

She chuckled. "I'd rather not imagine that."

"I doubt the building - whether magical or muggle - would be left standing." He took a deep breath. "Well, let's get this over with." At least the Lunas would be attending the other Weasley birthday party.

"I can feel the love for your siblings," she said, just as he rang the doorbell.

Before he could answer, the door was pulled open and Mum smiled at him. "Ron! And Hermione! Come in! Everyone else is here already!"

Which meant that they were considered late. Great.

"Ah, you finally arrived! Got held up in astral space?" Fred greeted him as they entered the living room. Which was packed, indeed - Harry and Ginny were on one couch and Dad was in his armchair, talking to Percy and Sirius. George, standing next to his twin, waved. Only Charlie and Bill were missing, and with both of them currently out of the country, they had been excused.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Happy birthday, Fred, George."

"Congratulations," Hermione added.

"Thank you! So, what did you bring us? A special gift, I hope?" Fred craned his neck rather theatrically as he peered at Hermione's beaded bag of holding.

"Fred! George! Don't harass them. We'll eat before opening the gifts!" Mum yelled from the kitchen.

"But Mum!" Fred protested - pro forma. That had been a rule for the twins' birthdays ever since they ruined the cake when the prank items Sirius had gotten them misfired.

"One of these days you might learn a little bit of patience," Percy added in a rather snotty tone.

Ron didn't mind the snottiness - it meant the twins were less likely to bother him and more likely to focus on Percy instead.

"Actually, yes," Hermione told the twins - after casting a privacy charm. "We do have some gifts from my world."

The twins' faces lit up with huge smiles. "What did you bring us?" Fred asked eagerly. "Potions? A broom?"

Hermione smiled sweetly at them. "That would ruin the surprise."

And their faces fell as they realised that now the waiting would be even worse. Something Hermione had intended, Ron was sure.

"We're all glad that you could make it," Dad told them.

"We wouldn't miss this," Ron replied.

"Two birthdays for the price of one - you won't find a better deal," Fred said.

"Unless you could have four birthdays for the price of one," George added with a grin.

Ron forced himself to smile at that alarming thought.

*****​

"Who wants another slice of the roast?" Mum asked later as they sat around the dining table.

"I'm good, thank you," Hermione said.

Ron was about to say the same, but Mum had already dropped a slice of roast beef on his plate and was serving the twins now. Well, her cooking was excellent as always, so Ron didn't really mind.

He did do his best to finish it, though - the twins were getting really antsy. Fred was in danger of straining his neck from the way he kept glancing at Hermione's bag.

"Too bad Luna couldn't make it," Mum said with a frown as she started collecting the dishes.

Ron knew better than to mention that Luna was celebrating the wizarding twins' birthday in the other world. Everyone was aware of it anyway. She'd get to fly on a broom again - he felt a little jealous.

Then Mum came back with a huge cake - chocolate with vanilla, topped with whipped cream. His favourite. Perhaps Mum wasn't as annoyed as he had feared.

The twins jumped up. "Let's blow out the candles!"

"Wait!" Mum bellowed. "Song first! And I expect you to eat like civilised people, no matter how eager you are to see what gifts you've gotten."

Before the twins could answer, the doorbell rang. "I'll answer it," he said quickly, standing up. He kept one hand near his pistol as he approached the door and looked through the peephole.

Luna was standing outside, smiling at the peephole. But… what was she doing here? She was supposed to be in the magical world!

"Hermione? It's Luna." That would warn her.

"Luna?"

"Yes," he replied as she joined him - he saw she had her wand drawn, half-hidden behind her back.

He opened the door. "Come in," he said.

"No sign and countersign?" Luna asked with a frown. "What would Moody say? I could be a terrorist in disguise!"

"We don't have a sign and countersign," Ron replied. Although they really should have one now that he thought of it. "And a terrorist would simply start attacking the house," he added to make himself feel better about the oversight.

"That's true."

"I thought you were… at the other party," Hermione said.

"I was!" Luna beamed at them. "And it was a great party."

"It's over already?" Ron asked. That was… well, he didn't know when it had started, did he?

"Yes! So we decided to see if yours was still going on!" Luna nodded rapidly.

"'We'?" Ron asked together with Hermione.

"We!" Luna replied, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a small box. No, a shrunken trunk, Ron realised with a sinking feeling.

Before he could say anything, Luna had put the trunk down and flipped open the lid. A moment later, the other Luna appeared in the room with an almost headache-inducing twist of space as she stepped out of a trunk that was far too small to hold her. "Hello, everyone!"

"Luna and Luna?" Mum sounded confused. "I thought you were celebrating with the other Weasleys."

"We were!" Luna told her. "But that celebration finished, so we decided to come visit you and join yours!"

"'We'?" Ron asked again.

Before anyone could answer, another person stepped out of the tiny trunk: Wizarding Fred. Followed by his brother, their wife and their child. "Hello, everyone!"

Ron managed not to curse in front of Beatrice and his mum. The twins didn't. And neither did Ginny.

"Blimey!"

"Bloody hell!"

"Damn."

"Fred! George! Language!"

"Blimey! You sound like our mum!" wizarding Fred said.

"Of course she does," his brother added.

"You look like Gran, too!" Beatrice added. "But you're dressed funny!"

"Hello, Mrs Weasley. I'm Angelina Weasley," Angelina said. "And this is Beatrice, our daughter!"

"Hi!" The little witch beamed at Mum.

As one would expect, any annoyance or anger Mum might have been feeling about the sudden intrusion vanished at once. "Oh, how precious! Would you like some cake?"

Beatrice nodded eagerly. "Oh, yes, thank you!"

"You already had three slices," her mother pointed out.

"But this is a different cake!" Beatrice retorted. "Please! And we've travelled a lot!"

"Surely a slice can't hurt." Mum was already on the way to the kitchen.

And the little witch turned to Ron's brothers. "You look like my dads. But you're dressed funny too."

"I'll have you know that we're dressed very fashionably - for this world," Fred told her.
George was still staring - mostly at Beatrice, Ron noticed. Both his brothers seemed, well, more shocked than he would have expected - especially after asking to meet their counterparts so often.

"Your world dresses funny, then," Beatrice shot back and sniffed.

"But funny is nice - we're funny, aren't we?" George tried.

"But not in the good way!" the little witch told him. "Not like… oh, cake!"

"Does anyone else want some cake?" Mum asked as Beatrice stopped criticising fashion and started stuffing her face in a way that definitely proved that she was wizarding Fred and wizarding George's daughter.

And that gave Dad and Percy the opportunity to meet their interdimensional relatives - though Percy, probably with good reason given how Fred and George loved to prank him if they could manage it, cut his introduction quite short. Helped along by Hermione enlarging the living room and table so everyone could sit down.

*****​

"And you really married both?" Mum sounded like she still couldn't believe it.

Angelina nodded. "Yes."

"It's not actually that unusual," wizarding George said. "It's an old custom in Tibet."

"You married in Tibet?" Dad asked.

"No." Wizarding Fred grinned. "We just put down both of us as grooms when we filed the papers at the Ministry."

"And put a charm on it to keep anyone from altering the records until the deadline to contest it had passed," wizarding George added.

"And no, we don't know or care who's Beatrice's biological father," Angelina said in a tone of voice that suggested that she had been asked that question a little too often.

"It would be hard to determine anyway seeing as you're identical twins," Hermione explained.

"Well, it's certainly an unusual but fitting arrangement," Fred commented. "And a great prank!"

George nodded in agreement. "We never thought of that."

"We never found a girl to think of it with," Fred added.

"Oh. You've never met my counterpart?" Angelina asked.

"No," George said.

"Though we might now rectify that, having met you," Fred added with a sly grin.

Ron glanced at Mum. She looked like she couldn't decide whether she should be happy that the twins might be 'settling down' or outraged that they might want to copy their wizarding counterparts. Not that he thought that they were serious, anyway. But you never knew with the twins.

"Since there is no counterpart to Hogwarts in this world, the odds of everyone, no matter their family circumstances and geographical location, going to the same muggle school are quite low." Hermione shook her head. "It's already remarkable - and probably related to an effect I've not yet been able to identify - that Ron and Harry met at the same school."

"Or that we actually know the Creeveys and Malfoy."

"Though he is named 'Damian Malfoy' in this world," Harry pointed out. "And still alive."

"And a complete arse," Luna added. "He isn't a terrorist, though. At least as far as we know."

"Probably too much of a coward for that," Ron said.

"Hmm. I wonder if his blood would have gotten through some of the wards on Malfoy Manor," wizarding Fred wondered. "Did you ever test that?"

Hermione looked surprised. "No, we didn't. But we really should if we're going to open a portal to a new world. If it works, then blood-related security charms will have a glaring weakness." She took out a notebook and started scribbling in it.

"And we've lost her," wizarding Fred said. "If we want to test this with the Malfoys, I volunteer to collect the blood."

"There aren't any Malfoy wards left. Nor any Malfoy Manor," his brother pointed out.

"True. But we should still bleed Malfoy a little. He probably deserves it."

"Oh?" Beatrice piped up, which prompted Angelina to glare at her husbands.

"Well, perhaps we should talk about something else," wizarding Fred quickly said.

"Yes," his brother agreed.

"Yes." Luna nodded emphatically. "We should talk about what we can do to improve this world with a few good wands."

Ron winced.

*****​

"...so just a dozen cursed items would stop most of the worst corruption in the country," Luna finished. "If we pick the correct offices and items, then it won't matter who manages to cheat their way to power - they won't be able to do the bidding of either their oligarchy or their corporate masters."

"What about the Shadow Government?" wizarding Luna asked. "Is it active in Brazil?"

"Their manipulations would be similarly affected, but since they aren't aware of magic, they won't be able to counter it. And by the time they figure it out or get lucky, they'll have lost a great deal of influence," Luna replied. "Nature should have recovered, and the common people should have taken control of much of the farmable land and capital."

"That sounds a little too optimistic," Ron pointed out. It sounded crazy, actually. You couldn't take over a country with a few curses. Well, perhaps North Korea. But corruption didn't vanish if you cleaned out the top - it was endemic once it took root in a society. "The lower ranks of government, and all the corporations, will still do business as usual."

"Not if the government starts an anti-corruption purge," Luna retorted.

"That will get the government overthrown," Hermione said. She was scowling deeply. "Also, you can't just take over a country like that. Much less a foreign one."

"I think I've just demonstrated that it's entirely possible," Luna replied with a pout.

Ron saw Hermione take a deep breath. "I meant that you shouldn't try to take over a country like that. Brazil is a democracy, not a dictatorship. And even if it were a dictatorship," she went on, cutting Luna off before the other woman could protest, "replacing one dictator with another isn't a good idea."

"But we wouldn't be doing that! All we'd be doing is ensuring that the government stays honest." Luna smiled.

Wizarding Luna nodded. "By cursing the right documents, we can ensure that anyone who breaks their oath of office will suffer a curse that will prevent them from further governing the country. We would just be doing our civic duty of preventing crime. Imagine if Fudge had been under such a curse!"

"He'd have dropped dead after a day in office," Hermione muttered. "But you can't just curse president after president! I mean, you shouldn't. All you'd achieve is further destabilisation of the government. And that means more corruption, not less. And more unchecked logging and other crimes."

"Well…" wizarding Fred spoke up, "we don't have to use a debilitating curse. We could use a modified version of our Patented Daydream Charms."

"Yes," his brother agreed. "If we make it give nightmares about breaking the law…"

Luna eagerly nodded. "That would be great! And a minor illness, so they have to stay in bed until they decide to be honest."

"You could also add some Pavlovian conditioning - reward them with good dreams if they do good," George suggested.

"I don't know what 'Pavlovian' means, but that sounds like a good idea," his counterpart said.

"Many members of Parliament and government employees swear an oath on a bible. If you put a spell on the right bible, they would be forced to be honest," Fred said.

"That depends on the oath," Hermione was quick to point out. "It could backfire and let a dictator control a country even more easily, as long as he stuck to seemingly legal orders." She shook her head. "We went over this with Putin: You can't just mind control foreign governments! The risks are too great!"

"That's why we won't touch their minds," wizarding Luna retorted. "We'll just punish crimes. That's perfectly OK!"

"And we let them learn their lessons," Fred added. "Also OK."

Ron turned to Percy, who had been uncharacteristically silent - as had Dad - during the discussion. "Percy! Tell them why this would be a bad idea!"

But his brother had a pensive expression instead of the shock Ron had expected. "Forcing the Cabinet and Parliament to be honest would actually help a lot without disrupting too much of the work of the government," Percy said. "Although it should be implemented subtly - as Hermione pointed out, the disruption from an unstable government would be much worse than the current state of affairs."

"You have to be very cautious," Dad added. "As much as I would love an honest government - and ours is doing quite decently…"

"Apart from their lies about the invasion of Iraq," Luna interrupted him with a deep scowl. "And all the lies about their other policies!"

Dad coughed. "Well, Her Majesty's Government isn't perfect, to say the least. But it's better than most."

"That's a really low bar, Dad!" Fred said.

"In any case, as in politics, slow but steady changes give the best results with the fewest disruptions," Dad finished.

"The environment doesn't have a few more decades for 'slow changes' to take effect," Luna protested. "Drastic action is needed!"

"Well, at the very least, forcing the judges to be honest should help," Percy said. "If the highest court is forced to be honest, that alone would have lasting repercussions."

There wasn't much Ron could say against that. And neither, it seemed, could Hermione.

Who would have thought that Percy would be someone who'd support the use of magic to manipulate others? After he had been the voice of reason and rules for so long?

*****​

A little later, Ron and Hermione had managed to get a little peace and privacy. The twins and their counterparts were swapping ideas for prank items, Angelina was talking with Mum and Dad, Luna was talking to Ginny and Harry about using their - mostly Ginny's - fame to promote protecting the environment and Beatrice was talking to Percy. About what, Ron couldn't fathom, but the little witch was apparently asking questions as fast as Percy could answer them, and Percy seemed to like the attention.

He turned towards Hermione. "Do you think they can actually do it? Influence the Brazilian Government to root out corruption and protect the rainforest?"

She sighed. "It's possible, but it's far more difficult than they believe. Or so I think, in any case - though it's not my area of expertise."

"They sounded pretty confident," Ron said.

"Too confident. Manipulating people with magic isn't easy. Unless you use the Imperius Curse. Which is why that curse is one of the Unforgivable - it's too easy to use. The victim will do whatever the caster wants, and usually without even noticing that they are being controlled while they are under the curse. And you already know the risks of memory manipulation."

He nodded. And didn't that say something about Hermione's world? There, muggles regularly got their minds wiped.

"Now, indirectly influencing people is a better approach - in theory. But people aren't Pavlovian dogs. Not to mention that associating a bell with food is a far cry from changing someone's behaviour by punishing them until they behave differently."

"Well, our penal system is partly based on criminals learning their lesson and changing their ways," he told her. "And punishment is part of that."

She sniffed. "That's different. If the Brazilian president or one of their ministers break or bend the law, they won't just stop because they get hit with a Headache Jinx or a cold whenever they do so. They won't associate the curse with the crime. And making them feel bad and guilty about breaking the law is much harder than simply creating a magical contract that curses them with a hex or jinx. But even if they did start feeling guilty, they're unlikely to change their ways - many criminals feel bad about breaking the law yet continue to do so for a variety of reasons."

"Well, some don't feel bad at all," he told her. "Some love breaking the law." He had encountered a number of them.

"Yes. And some corrupt politicians will feel that what they are doing is OK. My point is that you can't just change minds like that."

"So that's why you and Percy argued for a subtle approach?"

"I don't know Percy's motivation - he wouldn't know about the limits of magic - but in my case, yes."

"But the twins' counterparts would know about those limits, wouldn't they?"

She nodded. "They should - they took their N.E.W.T.s."

"So do you really think they won't know or realise that this plan won't work?" He raised his eyebrows.

She pursed her lips in response. "I think they will have realised that more obvious methods won't work - and will do more harm than good."

"I hope you're right," he replied. "It's scary what you could do with magic in a world without magic."

"Well, technically, magic does exist in this world. If it didn't, spells wouldn't work regardless of whether or not you had a wand," Hermione explained. "But as far as I can tell, in this world, no creature or organism ever evolved that could use magic." She frowned. "I don't know if the absence of magic users or their existence is more likely overall."

"Well, you might find out as you find other universes," he told her.

"It's one possible area of research - though I think focusing on dimensional travel is more important and productive than a more academic research topic."

He nodded in agreement. Visiting other worlds was certainly more appealing - and more exciting - than knowing whether or not worlds usually had wizards and witches. He sighed. "I'm still worried about, you know…" He nodded towards the twins, then at Luna. Wait… "Where's Luna's counterpart?"

Hermione looked around. "Perhaps she went to the bathroom. Or she stepped outside for a moment."

"Or," Ron said, wincing as he saw wizarding Luna reappear in the middle of the room, holding a cage with a dodo - no, a Diricawl - inside, "she just went to fetch an extinct animal to show off."

Said animal promptly disappeared from its cage.

"Fiddlesticks!" she complained, wand in hand. "I thought I could cast the Anti-Apparition Jinx before Mr Dada realised where we are."

"Where is it?" Hermione snapped, drawing her wand.

"He can't have gotten far," wizarding Luna said. "Their ability to apparate is limited to places they know, and he doesn't know this place."

But that meant…

"There!" he heard Beatrice yell, followed by the sound of someone crashing against the shelves next to the telly. And the sounds of dozens of DVDs tumbling to the floor. "Ow!"

Hermione whipped her wand around. "There! No more Apparition!"

"Beatrice! Sweetie, are you alright?"

"Ow!"

"Where's the bird?"

"Mr Dada! Mr Dada! Please come back - you can't survive here; it's much too cold in winter!"

"Is it outside?" Ron checked the windows. He couldn't see any sign of the bird, but that didn't have to mean anything.

"My kitchen!"

That was Mum! Ron whirled and dashed towards her voice, followed by everyone else. He drew up short at the door and winced - the Diricawl was all over the kitchen, flapping its wings and jumping from the counter to the table and back, scattering spices, flour and any food on either surface.

"The poor dear! Not being able to apparate must have frightened him! Mr Dada! You're safe!"

The bird didn't listen - but faced with half a dozen people, it stood no chance. And a few spells fixed the kitchen and the living room.

"Luna! What were you thinking?" Hermione glared at the other witch as soon as she had finished restocking the DVD shelves.

"I was thinking that Beatrice wanted to see a Diricawl. And that Mr Dada would like the trip - he was getting restless in the habitat."

"Yes, I did!" Beatrice confirmed.

"You brought a bird that was known to be restless?" Hermione asked with obvious exasperation.

"Yes!" Wizarding Luna beamed at her. The bird, which she held in her arms - with some difficulty - was still trying to escape, but she seemed to ignore that. "He's quite lively."

"How did you even transport it without it apparating away?"

"Oh, he wasn't trying to escape when I stepped outside. But seeing so many people must have spooked him. Poor Mr Dada - don't worry, they won't hurt you!" She cooed at the bird. And Beatrice copied her, reaching out to touch its feathers, which triggered more squawking and escape attempts.

Ron sighed. That wasn't an auspicious beginning for the Lunas' project.

"I think I'd rather break into Gringotts again than attend another birthday party for Fred and George," Hermione muttered next to him.

He nodded in agreement.

*****​

Black Lake, Scotland, April 5th, 2006

"We call it the 'Signal Silverfish'," wizarding Fred announced as he opened a small box that contained what looked like a dozen dead insects. Very realistic insects.

"How does it work?" Hermione asked, peering at the things.

"These will listen for a signal. Upon hearing it, they'll travel the set amount and repeat the signal. Perfect to get word out of the area covered by a privacy charm," wizarding George explained. "We wanted to make them send the signal, but we couldn't figure out how without triggering security charms. They monitor the Wizarding Wireless these days, you know."

"We can use a Protean Charm if you can make them climb over a coin or something," Hermione said.

"Oh! We should've thought of that!" Wizarding Fred nodded. "And Harry and Ronniekins have the counterparts."

"One of them should suffice," Hermione said. "KISS."

"Kiss?"

"K.I.S.S. It stands for: 'Keep it simple, stupid'," she explained.

"Well, we're not stupid," wizarding Fred replied. "Not any more. Just ask our dear wife. And Harry and our dear little brother might object to being called stupid as well - as Aurors, they are obliged to call the Hit-Wizards that."

"With some justification, mind you. If the Hit-Wizards had been competent, the war would've gone differently," his brother added.

"Certainly fits our brother, though. And Harry can be a little dim as well - remember how long it took little Ginny to get him to notice her?" wizarding Fred asked.

"Oh, yes. 'Stupid' definitely fits them. Let's use it." His brother nodded sagely, then grinned at his own joke.

Hermione sighed. "Can we focus on the matter at hand or do I have to hex you?"

"Alright. No need to become violent."

"Well, I'd argue that she's already violent."

Hermione raised her wand.

"Alright, alright! Let's focus on our latest invention!"

"And our next project will be the chill pill! Guaranteed to imbue the target with a temporary sense of humour!"

"You'll need a Confundus Charm to go with that since your jokes aren't funny," Hermione retorted.

"Ow! Cut to the quick!"

"Slander!"

Ron sighed. The wizarding twins were talented, but their attitude… He was glad they wouldn't be working with them on the upcoming mission, but with his and Harry's counterparts instead.

*****​

Ministry of Magic, Whitehall, London, Wizarding World, April 7th, 2006

Ron's wig itched slightly, and the makeup felt as if someone had put plaster on his face, but it was the inserts in his mouth that were the worst - even though they made masking his voice easy; it was a miracle anyone understood even half of what he was saying, not that he was actually saying much.

Unlike Hermione, who was similarly disguised - this time as a blonde with skin straight out of a tanning salon. Or a tannery, in a few more years. Her 'Californian' accent was atrocious, but the Ministry representative - Celeste Brown, a pureblood according to their intel - didn't seem to notice. "Will the banker, like, arrive, anytime soon? We've been here for hours!" she complained between chewing gum and twisting her wand between her fingers.

"We've been here for fifteen minutes, Mrs Withersbury, and the meeting is scheduled to begin in two minutes. Representatives from Gringotts are generally extremely punctual," Brown said with the sort of strained smile common to low-level clerks dealing with difficult customers.

"Fifteen minutes? Like, are you sure?" Hermione didn't close her mouth as she chewed more gum. "It felt, like, hours. Can't the goblins be early?" She tried to twirl her wand but dropped it in her lap.

It was a miracle, in Ron's opinion, that they hadn't already been thrown out given the attitude they were displaying, despite the rather high expediency fee they had paid. But Hermione had been right - as a pureblood employee, Brown wouldn't dare throw out a foreign muggleborn witch trying to get an inheritance in Britain that might've been stolen by British purebloods. Even or especially if said purebloods were the Lovegoods - the Ministry was painstakingly avoiding even the appearance of favouring anyone.

"As I said, they are extremely punctual, Mrs Withersbury."

Ron could hear the 'née Stanley, you uppity gold digger' tone without Brown having to express it.

"That's, like, so rude - don't you think so?" Hermione used the tip of her wand to scratch her scalp.

Brown's polite smile grew even more strained, though Ron didn't know if it was because of Hermione's abuse of her wand or her tone. "The goblins have different customs which may often appear as rudeness to wizards and witches."

"Well, why don't they, like, adapt, then?"

"You would have to ask the goblins, Mrs Withersbury." Brown's smile showed most of her teeth this time.

"Perhaps I will - this is really not decent service." Hermione huffed and popped a chewing gum bubble.

Brown looked like she wanted to draw her wand and make the gum - and perhaps Hermione - vanish. Or burn.

Fortunately, the door opened at this moment, and the goblin delegation marched in.

"There you are!" Hermione blurted out. "I was wondering if you'd, like, forgotten the meeting!"

Brown winced. "Greetings, Fleshripper."

The goblin in charge scoffed. "Let's get this over with. Time is money."

"That's what, like, my husband always said. When he was still alive," Hermione cut in. "So, can we, like, step on it?"

Ron really hoped that no one present had actually been to California. Or watched one of the better TV shows set there.

Fleshripper glared at her as if he'd like to step on her. With a scoff, he turned to the two goblins carrying the chest and nodded once. They put the chest down on the table, which creaked in response. "We're here to unseal the birth records of Ottery St Catchpole, eighteen hundred and fifty-one to nineteen hundred to verify that there was no Ottokar Lovegood born in the Lovegood family in eighteen hundred and seventy."

"No, we're like, here to prove that my husband's ancestor was born here!" Hermione protested.

The goblin ignored her and bit into his fingertip, then touched several gems set in the chest's front in rapid order with. The chest opened, and he pulled out a rather thick file with two prominent seals - Gringotts' and the Ministry's. He let it drop on the table with a sneer. "I state for the record that we're unsealing the files at the request and in the presence of a representative of the Ministry of Magic."

"Err, yes," Brown said, clearing her throat. "I confirm the request and I have the seal here as proof." She presented an old-fashioned seal.

The goblin grunted again and drew a dagger, which he used to break the Gringotts' seal. Brown drew her wand and tapped the Ministry seal.

"You don't use a dagger?" Ron asked, triggering the Signal Silverfish.

This time, she openly frowned at him - then again, he was supposed to be the muggle lover of Mr Withersbury's widow. "It's traditional to use a wand to unseal a file," she said.

Ron nodded, counting down the seconds. Two. One. Now.

Fleshripper was just reaching for the file with a scoffing grunt when the alert sounded outside, followed by screaming.

Hermione gasped and jumped up, pointing her wand at the door in a sweeping motion. "We're under attack!"

"No!" Brown yelled. "That's the magical accident alarm. It's not an attack."

"A magical accident? We're all going to be cursed!"

Ron resisted the urge to stare at the file. Even knowing in advance how Hermione would mask her silent switching spell, he hadn't noticed any change.

"No, we won't - this room is sealed," Brown told her. "We're perfectly safe."

"Sit down, witch, and let us finish this or we'll charge you a late fee!" Fleshripper growled.

"Why, I've never met such rudeness!" Hermione gasped again but sat down.

Fleshripper bared all his very sharp teeth in a smile while the rest of the goblins chuckled.

Ron resisted the urge to smile at them. They had no idea they had just been fooled.

*****​

As Ron had expected, as soon as the records had proved that whoever Mrs Withersbury's British ancestor had been, they hadn't been born a Lovegood - something both Brown and Fleshripper took great delight in rubbing Hermione's nose in - they were almost thrown out while the alert was still sounding outside.

And as soon as the alert stopped, Brown genuinely smiled at them. "You can leave now, Mrs Withersbury. Right now, to be exact. We wouldn't want to waste time, now would we?"

Hermione gasped. "Why, I never…" But she stood. "Come on, Bob! Let's leave these rude people!"

Outside, the Ministry was still not back to normal - they had to walk through throngs of employees, all with their wands out, repairing what looked like craters in the walls and destroyed desks. On several floors.

Ron held his tongue until they had reached the designated Apparition point, but as soon as they reappeared in the Forest of Dean, he shook his head. "What happened?"

"I guess a few employees overreacted to the sudden moth attack," Hermione said with a grimace. "We - Harry, Ron and I - should've expected that. A number of Ministry employees fought in the war, and this might have triggered them."

"Oh." Yes, in hindsight, they should've expected that. Ron hoped that no one got hurt during the distraction.

Then he saw that Hermione was still shaking her head, staring at the forest.

*****​

She was on the floor, hand grasping for a wand that wasn't there. She was helpless - she was dead. She couldn't fight. She had to flee. She had to...

"Hermione! It's alright! It was just an accident. A car accident."

That was Mum! No, not Mum - Ellen. She wasn't at home. She wasn't in the war. She was stranded in another dimension.

"It's alright, Hermione. Can you stand?" Ellen was reaching down to her.

She nodded in response, gripping Ellen's hand as she stood. It had been an accident. And not even a serious one - just two cars colliding at low speeds as one or the other driver hadn't paid attention. Both drivers were already shouting at each other.

She took a few deep breaths. She wasn't in the war. She wasn't in any danger. She was safe.

She didn't feel safe, though. Not without a wand.

*****​

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 66: The Prison

Black Lake, Scotland, April 7th, 2006

"So the records were successfully exchanged?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes," Hermione replied. "My Switching Spell worked perfectly." She put a sheet of parchment down. "I've also checked the original - our altered copy should hold up under every scrutiny."

"Good. Then, after a small delay, we can proceed with our plan to make the Ministry abolish Azkaban."

Hermione nodded. "And I can focus on finding ways to eliminate any possibility of Azkaban being restored. Which means destroying the Dementors - a challenging task."

"We best wait until the Ministry has cleared the island, though, before we grab a test subject," Ron said. "Otherwise, they'll go on a hunt for the missing monster."

"No one's gonna miss a Dementor," wizarding Fred said.

"They would," Hermione retorted. "Since a missing Dementor generally means it is loose in Britain."

"And the average bureaucrat will care just because they want their inventories in order," Harry added.

"Have you seen Larry? He's a Dementor, slightly used, likes to cuddle." Ron chuckled.

Hermione frowned at them both. "It's not a subject to joke about."

"Sorry," Ron apologised. "But we tend to joke about anything dangerous and disgusting."

"Comes with the job," Harry said.

"But your job nowadays is to guard our little sister's counterpart, isn't it?" Wizarding Fred grinned. "And you have to joke a lot?"

"Ha ha," Harry replied in a deadpan voice.

"Perhaps we should have the two Ginnys meet," Ron wondered aloud. "Have them compare notes."

"Perhaps we should focus on our task," Hermione cut in.

"We were - Ginny's got such a fiery temper, two of her might be enough to burn a Dementor," wizarding George said. "Also, did the Death's-head Drop Box work as planned?" He grinned. "Just for our secret notes, mind you."

"As far as we know, it worked a little too well," Hermione said. "People panicked and used curses on them - quite damaging to their surroundings."

"Oh." The twins looked taken aback for a moment. "Did anyone get hurt?"

"I don't think so," Hermione told them. "But I don't know."

"Ah." Wizarding Fred nodded. "Well, Harry and Ron aren't here yelling at us, so it can't have been too bad."

"If it had been 'too bad', they would still be too busy helping," Ron pointed out. After a large-scale incident, it could take hours before you could leave the scene of a crime. Unless your superior sent you away because you annoyed them.

"Good point," the wizard admitted. "Slightly disturbing and worrying, but good point."

"Do Patronus Messengers travel across dimensions?" his brother asked.

"No, they don't," Hermione said.

"Ah."

"Such a spell would have greatly facilitated matters, I believe," Dumbledore said.

"Yes. I could've created a ritual to cast it, and let my friends know I wasn't dead," Hermione replied.

Ron pressed his lips together. That would have likely resulted in the other Ron waiting for her. And in Ron never meeting her. "Well, it doesn't work," he said. "So… how long until I'm supposed to bribe the Ministry into doing the right thing?"

"I would say a week." Dumbledore nodded at his own words. "That should be enough time to avoid suspicion - though it will take more time for the goblins to decide whether or not they want to unseal the records to check."

"Sooner if they have copies of their own," Ron pointed out. He would, in their place. "They might want to throw suspicion on us anyway."

"I doubt that," Hermione retorted. "Claiming that sealed documents they have kept safe were altered? That would significantly damage their own reputation."

"Indeed," Dumbledore agreed. "Just as many firms prefer to pay off extortionists rather than admit that they have suffered a security leak in order to avoid losing the trust of their customers, I don't believe, after my interaction with Gringotts, that the goblins would risk that. However, I do think they'll suspect us - or rather, you, Dr Granger."

"They already hate me, so I don't think that will change anything," she replied. "In any case, we should focus on Azkaban now - and the Dementors."

"So… a lot of people have tried to find ways to destroy Dementors for centuries," wizarding George said. "Do you really think you can find one?"

"My backup plan is to find another dimension empty of life and send them there," Hermione said. "One way or the other, Dementors will be gone from our world. But I don't believe that they cannot be destroyed. If they were truly immortal, they would have overrun Britain long ago. They certainly wouldn't have agreed to stick to the island and feed on a few prisoners if they could have fed on all of Britain instead. So, they can be destroyed. We just have to find out how. Even if it means starving them."

"How do you propose to starve them?" wizarding George asked.

"Not feeding them prisoners would be a great start," she said.

"And it seems that they cannot cross water," Ron added. "That means they can't leave the island without help. We don't know, though, what happens if they are forced into water."

"That will be amongst the first things to test," Hermione said. "Salt water, fresh water, running water, for starters."

"Oh, if we're talking testing…" Wizarding Fred grinned widely. "We've never been able to test our products on a Dementor."

Ron blinked and glanced at Hermione, who met his eyes with a surprised expression.

That was… well, it actually sounded like a good - or at least decent - idea. Or entertaining, if dangerous.

*****​

Black Lake, Scotland, April 8th, 2006

"So, the distraction didn't go entirely according to plan," wizarding Harry said in the lab's lounge. "The swarm was a little larger than expected."

"A lot larger," wizarding Ron interjected. "It was bloody huge - I think it could've filled an entire floor if it hadn't split up and hit three floors."

"Well, you opened it and then left it for some time," wizarding Fred said. "That's not covered by the warranty."

"We offer warranties for our products?" his brother asked with exaggerated surprise.

"Well, no, so since there is no warranty, it certainly can't cover anything - but most definitely not user error." Wizarding Fred nodded. "I say we blame Harry. And Ron."

"But we always blame Ron, don't we?"

"So there's no reason to stop, is there?"

"Very funny," wizarding Ron said with an eye roll.

"Can we get on with this without the comedy routine?" wizarding Harry glared at the two wizards. "So, when the moths filled the rooms, people started to panic. A few started casting Vanishing Charms, but many others ran - or used other spells, like curses. Fortunately," he added with a grimace, "no one was seriously hurt, and the damage to the Ministry could be repaired."

Ron winced a little - wizard standards for 'seriously hurt' were a lot laxer thanks to magic. He should've thought of that. Wizards weren't less likely to panic than muggles just because they could do magic.

"Well, St Mungo's treated more people with Calming Draughts than with healing spells," Ron's counterpart said. "Worst panic since the war, the Healer in charge told us."

Hermione winced. "Sorry. That wasn't the idea."

"Well, perhaps now they'll value Aurors a little more," wizarding Harry said.

"Or Hit-Wizards," wizarding Fred added with an innocent smile.

"None of them were there," Ron's counterpart told his brother. "By the time the greycloaks arrived, we were done with the 'attack'."

"It's considered an attack?" Hermione sounded concerned.

"Technically, it was," wizarding Harry pointed out. "Kingsley thinks it was meant as a statement against the Ministry and the Weasleys, seeing as someone broke into Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and then into the Ministry. Obviously, anyone able to steal from you would've been able to get past the Ministry's wards."

"Obviously," wizarding Fred said with a wide and entirely too-proud grin.

"So you've been tasked with tracking down the culprits?" Ron asked.

"Until further notice," his counterpart replied. "Too bad we can't frame anyone for it - I know a few people who could do with some prison time."

"Ron!" Hermione gasped.

"I'm joking!" The wizard chuckled. "Don't worry."

She huffed in return. "I can't tell any more."

"Anyway, we'll investigate the usual suspects for a while and wait until something more important pops up, at which point the investigation will be shelved," wizarding Harry said.

"So when will you bribe Kingsley to abolish Azkaban?" wizarding Ron asked.

"We'll offer to finance a more humane prison in about a week," Hermione said primly.

"It's still a bribe," her friend insisted.

She huffed again.

"Say, where's Dumbledore?" wizarding Harry asked - whether he really wanted to know or merely wanted to change the subject, Ron couldn't tell. But he knew where Dumbledore was. "He's handling a board meeting." Grindelwald had been insisting, or so Ron had heard.

"Ah."

"He'll be back meddling in Wizarding Britain soon enough, don't worry." Ron grinned, even though it wasn't that funny.

Then again, neither was Azkaban. And since the wizarding twins and the Lunas were about to meddle with this world, turnabout was fair play.

*****

Ministry of Magic, Whitehall, London, Wizarding World, April 15th, 2006

"I was under the impression that you weren't wealthy, Mr Weasley." Shacklebolt frowned as he stared at Ron and Hermione. They had expected that - he had been an Auror before becoming Minister, after all, and any cop would be suspicious of sudden influx of money.

"I don't like to brag," Ron said. "But I was raised by my uncle, who was quite wealthy - and I am his sole heir."

"And you want to spend your wealth on… reforming Azkaban?" The Minister looked at them even more suspiciously.

"On abolishing Azkaban," Ron corrected him. "And it's not all my wealth, rest assured. And even if it were - if it makes Hermione happy…" He beamed and wrapped his arm around her waist. "I agree with her that such a crime against humanity is a stain on the country's honour, and if Wizarding Britain cannot afford to remove it, then it behoves concerned citizens to step in."

Shacklebolt glared at him, then stared at Hermione. "What's your game?"

"I don't play games, Minister," she retorted. "But my goal is to abolish Azkaban and see a humane prison system established instead. No matter what it takes." She huffed. "I trust you won't refuse our generous offer, will you?"

"Think of it as an investment - you'll need more employees to run the new prison, and constructing it will inject money into the economy as well," Ron added.

Judging by the glances Hermione and the Minister sent him, that wasn't as good an argument as he had thought.

But he could also see that Shacklebolt would be giving in - even if it went against the former Auror's instincts. As a politician, he had no choice and knew it - refusing such a generous donation without a compelling reason? That would cost him a lot of political capital and popular support. Especially with Hermione involved.

Ron leaned back with a smile.

*****

North Sea, Wizarding World, April 20th, 2006

"A ferry." Ron shook his head - not for the first time.

"Yes. We're on a ferry. We have been on it for an hour," Hermione replied. "What a surprise."

"Sorry." He grinned at her, despite the cold wind and light rain hitting his face. "I just can't get over the fact that with brooms, the Floo network, Apparition and Portkeys, you'd use a boat to get to Azkaban. It's just so… muggle."

"It's an enchanted ferry," she told him. "You don't think a muggle ship this size would make it through rough weather on the North Sea?"

He didn't think so - the ferry was barely twenty feet long if you counted the rudder. And the waves were often higher than the deck - or railing. Yet water never reached the deck, waves never crashed down on the ship as she cut through the water. But… "I'd be more impressed with the spells on this if they also kept the rain out."

She snorted in return. "That was by design, or so I hear - to have most prisoners arrive wet and cold."

"What about the guards?" He nodded at the two wizards in grey cloaks standing at the stern, one gripping the tiller.

"Azkaban is widely seen as a punishment detail."

"Ah." That made some sense.

"Or they're expected to provide their own spells to keep dry and warm."

That made more sense. Still… "Sounds like fertile ground for recruiting traitors," he said. "If the Ministry sends them to guard the prisoners, and if the prison is as nasty as we've been told…"

"...worse."

"...then that's a recipe for bonding amongst the inmates and guards." He still couldn't see the island, much less the prison.

"The Dementors supposedly kept the guards honest. Until Voldemort turned the Dementors," she told him.

"And the traitors are back guarding the prisoners?" He shook his head once again.

She shrugged. "You know what I think of that decision."

"Yes, I…" he trailed off. An island had suddenly appeared in front of them - out of nothing. A rocky, ugly island, barely more than a jagged mass of stone sticking out of the sea, with a massive tower on top of it.

"We've passed through the wards," Hermione explained - unnecessarily.

He nodded, then shivered - the temperature had just dropped by several degrees. At least his GPS receiver would have logged the exact position of the island before it stopped working.

One of the Hit-Wizards spoke up for the first time, her voice slightly distorted by the privacy charm Hermione had cast on them. "Welcome to Azkaban."

*****

Azkaban, North Sea, Wizarding World, April 20th, 2006

If anything, the actual island was worse than the trip across the North Sea. It was wetter and colder - they had to climb a narrow stairway carved - or cast, he reminded himself - into the cliff, with the wind battering at them and covering them with foam from the waves breaking against the rocks below. But they made it to the top of the island.

Yet things didn't improve. The temperature dropped even more, and it seemed that even the low light of the sun peeking through the fog and clouds surrounding the island dimmed with every step he took. He felt as if the cold had seeped into his bones. What was he doing here, anyway? He was just a stupid muggle. Unable, unworthy, to do magic. Hermione was probably just staying with him out of pity. Once it wouldn't look bad, she'd drop him and pick a wizard. And he would be all alone, his career ruined, forced to...

"Expecto Patronum!" Hermione yelled, and a translucent white otter appeared that glowed brightly - and shot forward as if it were swimming through the air, chasing fish.

Ron laughed, suddenly feeling warm again. And happy.

"Blimey," he heard one of the Hit-Wizards behind them mumble. "A corporeal Patronus."

"Look at them flee!" the female Hit-Wizard exclaimed.

And he realised that he had met Dementors without seeing them. He would have been helpless. Killed while wallowing in self-pity, surrounded by invisible monsters preying on his memories, sucking out his soul...

He shuddered again.

*****

The actual prison was even worse than the island. As cold and wet - or so it seemed - and it didn't just look like a medieval dungeon from the outside, it was a medieval dungeon. There was a portcullis, for heaven's sake! A magically lowered and raised one, but still!

"Ah, Miss Granger." A heavy-set wizard in grey robes greeted them in the middle of the small yard inside the tower with the hint of a nod and a much more pronounced sneer.

"Hit-Wizard Parkinson." Hermione didn't even bother nodding. "You're our guide?"

The man's sneer turned into a scowl. "I'm the Head Warden of Azkaban. I'm not a tour guide."

"Then who will be our guide? I'm here to inspect the prison, not to stay out here and engage in chit-chat until the Dementors return and I have to chase them off again." Hermione scoffed.

"Inspect? You want to close the prison down!"

"Exactly. This place is a stain on Wizarding Britain, and it needs to be closed down." Hermione glared at the man.

"You've got no idea what we do here. Without us, the most dangerous dark wizards would easily escape - and the Dementors would roam free!"

"I honestly doubt that. Now tell me who's going to show us around - we don't have all day."

Parkinson looked like he'd rather curse her, but he jerkily nodded towards another, younger Hit-Wizard. "Runcorn."

This wizard, at least, was smiling when he greeted them. "Hello."

"Hello." Hermione simply nodded at him, though Ron returned the smile. He didn't know if the friendliness was genuine, but it didn't hurt him any to return it. And it might make the wizard underestimate him.

"So… what do you want to see first?" the Hit-Wizard asked, glancing over his shoulder - apparently to check if Parkinson was watching or leaving.

"The cells," Hermione told him. "From the ones where criminals with lesser sentences are imprisoned to those with the inmates serving life sentences."

"Ah." Runcorn grimaced for a moment. "It's not an official divide, you know? We just lock the ones who won't be here forever in the upper cells." He nodded towards the door to the side. "Please follow me."

"I thought they would be less exposed to Dementors," Hermione asked as they followed.

"Ah, that is sort of true. The Dementors generally spend most of their time in the lowest dungeons. I've been told that they rotate the island patrols, but…" He shrugged. "Who can tell one of those monsters from another? Even after five years here, they all look the same to me."

"You've been stationed here for five years?" Hermione inhaled sharply.

"Yes, ma'am. Well, half and half - we get rotated through the Ministry, Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade half the time, the rest we spend in Azkaban."

"All of the Hit-Wizards?" Hermione asked. "Or merely those from certain families?"

"Uh." Runcorn grimaced again. "All of the younger Hit-Wizards. The higher ranks aren't part of the rotation."

"And why's Parkinson here?" Ron asked. That wizard was far too old to be a new recruit or rookie.

"I don't know for sure…" Runcorn shrugged. "Some say it was this or getting fired. Others say he's here to either torture the Death Eaters or help them."

Those didn't sound like trustworthy sources to Ron. But then, the rumour mill in any department was generally to be taken with a grain of salt.

They entered the tower proper, and Runcorn pulled out an amulet from under his robes, letting it dangle like a necklace. "This will keep us safe."

"I'll chase away any Dementor that dares to approach us," Hermione said, brandishing her wand.

Ron didn't feel too reassured, despite her impressive demonstration outside, and Runcorn grimaced again. "Well, I, for one, am looking forward to the prison closing down," the Hit-Wizard said. "If only to be able to sleep peacefully again. Here on the island, the nightmares are the worst."

"One would expect Mr Parkinson to feel the same," Ron not-quite-asked.

"He's got the topmost office and quarters; he rarely leaves and so he rarely encounters Dementors," Runcorn told them as they reached a spiral staircase. "But if Azkaban is abolished, he might lose his position."

"Won't he get to be Head Warden in the new prison?" Ron asked.

"He's got too many enemies in the corps," Runcorn said.

"Typical." Hermione muttered something about short-sighted fools as they descended the stairs and found themselves in front of another portcullis, a smaller one this time.

"Behind this is the cell area. The portcullis keeps the Dementors from entering our part of the prison," Runcorn explained.

"You don't trust them," Ron said.

"No." The wizard shuddered. "The brass never confirmed that the Hit-Wizards who vanished on the island were killed by the Dementors, but… whether they were or committed suicide, it's the fault of those monsters."

"And Parkinson wouldn't want people to think he can't control the Dementors," Ron said. It was far colder here than just a flight of stairs above. He could almost see his breath.

And this was the top level of the dungeons.

"So… here are the first cells for first offenders. Uh, sorry - kind of an inside joke." Runcorn knocked on a wooden door, peered through the barred opening at eye level, then opened the door. "Shelby. Six months for repeatedly endangering the Statute of Secrecy."

"I'm innocent… I was framed." The voice sounded raspy. Rough.

"That's what they all say," Runcorn replied, flicking his wand and causing a light to appear in the middle of the cell.

The wizard in worn but decent robes sitting on a thin mattress threw his arms up, like a vampire in a movie, and cried out. The cell looked clean, Ron noticed. There even was a desk and chair, with a few books and parchment, though the bucket in the corner looked rather ominous.

Ron saw Hermione tense. "How long have you been here, Mr Shelby?"

"He's been here for…" Runcorn trailed off at her glare.

"I… I don't remember. W-who are you?" The prisoner coughed several times, then spat out some phlegm on to the stone floor.

"Hermione Granger." After a moment, she added: "I'm here to check up on the prison. We're building a new prison, without Dementors."

"A new prison?"

"You'll be out before it's finished," Runcorn said.

Shelby started to laugh, then coughed. And didn't stop.

Hermione glared at Runcorn. "He needs a Healer."

"They get weekly visits," the Hit-Wizard replied. But he wasn't looking at them, nor at the prisoner, as he spoke.

Hermione pressed her lips together. "Show us the other floors."

Runcorn swallowed before nodding.

*****

The next floor was worse. The cells were the same - identical, actually, down to the desk and bucket - but the prisoners…

"Malcolm Geerson. One year, robbery," Runcorn said as he opened a door. He hadn't knocked or called out to the prisoner, Ron noted.

And when he saw Geerson, he knew why. The wizard was staring at them with unfocused eyes. And the stench…

"Sorry," Runcorn mumbled, before waving his wand. The stains on the prisoner's robes disappeared. "He doesn't use the bucket any more."

Ron clenched his teeth and breathed through his mouth.

"Hello, Mr Geerson," Hermione said.

The prisoner didn't react - he just kept staring at them.

She stepped closer, waving her hand in front of his face. The eyes didn't track her fingers. "He looks like he's been kissed," she spat, turning towards Runcorn.

"No, no! He wasn't kissed! Honest! He just… A few months ago, he stopped caring. And talking. A Healer said he was lost in his memories, or something like that." Runcorn shrugged. "Can't do anything about it."

"That's…" Hermione shook her head, then stomped out of the cell.

Runcorn followed her with a grimace. Ron took a last look at the prisoner, then left the cell as well. Bloody hell!

"So…ah… Marigold Merryweather. Two years for casting a dark curse at her neighbour."

The witch inside the cell was sitting in a corner, hunched over, knees drawn up and arms wrapped around her shins, slowly rocking back and forth. And mumbling something under her breath.

"We're coming in," Runcorn announced.

And Merryweather started screaming, turning towards the wall, hitting it. No, trying to claw a hole into it.

"Uh… it's one of her bad days," Runcorn said. "She usually doesn't scream until the Dementors make their rounds in the evening."

"Don't let her hurt herself!" Hermione snapped.

"Ah… alright."

A moment later, a red spell hit her, and the witch stopped moving. Stunner - Ron recognised the spell.

"Are there any prisoners who aren't…" Hermione glared at Runcorn, then gestured at the two cells they had visited. "...like them?"

"Ah, well…" Runcorn coughed. "Maybe Karl Travers."

"Travers?" Hermione asked,

"Not the main family. Cadet branch. He was given two years for using dark magic on muggles," Runcorn said. "He's been here for nine months, over there."

The wizard walked past a few cells - ignoring the moaning and wailing from one of them - and knocked on the door at the end of the hallway. "Travers! You've got visitors!"

"Vi-visitors? Mum? Is that you, Mum?" A sniffling voice asked.

Ron saw Hermione wince. "No, Mr Travers, I'm not your mother." She glared at Runcorn, who quickly opened the door.

Travers was still sobbing when they entered. "Mum…"

"Hello, Mr Travers."

The man looked up at them. "Who're you?" He blinked at Hermione. Then he spotted Ron and started screaming. "You bastard! You bastard!"

Ron saw the prisoner rush towards him with outstretched hands and reacted without thinking. He ducked to the side, grabbing one of the man's arms in the process, then used that to throw Travers to the ground, ending up with the arm in a joint lock.

"You bastard! I remember you! I...AHHHH!"

A little more pressure on Travers's arm made him stop struggling and start sobbing again.

"Ah… He was arrested by Autor Weasley," Runcorn explained. "You look a little like him, and after months here, his memory isn't the best any more…"

"Mum…"

"And he's one of the prisoners in better shape," Hermione said in a flat voice.

"He cursed a muggle family. A neighbourhood dispute," Runcorn said. "Crippled one of them."

"And that makes it OK to torture him?" Hermione shot back.

Runcorn's surprised expression left no doubt that his answer was obviously 'yes'.

"Show us the others!" Hermione spat.

*****

After half a dozen more cells - filled with prisoners in various degrees of mental degradation, as far as Ron could tell - Runcorn led them down a flight of stairs to another portcullis. "And this is the area for the lifers - those prisoners who were sentenced to a lifetime in Azkaban. Death Eaters, basically."

"How many are there?" Ron asked.

"Half a dozen, if you count Skeeter;" the Hit-Wizard replied.

"Skeeter."

"Yes. She doesn't have the mark, but she was helping them in the war."

"I'm aware of her actions," Hermione said. "I fought in the war."

"Of course! Sorry!" Runcorn flushed. "Do you want to see her?"

Ron saw that Hermione hesitated for a moment before she nodded. "Yes."

"The Dementors patrol three times a day here," Runcorn explained as the portcullis was raised. "So…" He shrugged.

Ron had a decent idea of what awaited them, and he wasn't wrong. The prisoners here were either catatonic or mad. It was far colder than upstairs, too. And the stench…

"We clean them and the cells once per day," Runcorn said. "But…" He shrugged.

Hermione scoffed. "Where's Skeeter?"

"Ah… this way. You know, as an animagus, she posed a bit of a problem for the Warden," Runcorn said. "Especially as a beetle. Hard to keep a bug locked up, right?" He opened a door.

Keeping a bug locked up wasn't very hard, Ron found - provided it was stuck in a glass jar.

"You're keeping her in her animagus form?" Hermione asked in a clipped tone.

Ron noticed how tense she was - and how tightly she gripped her wand. Runcorn, fortunately, couldn't see that from where he was.

"Err… It was deemed the best solution," the Hit-Wizard said. He grimaced, so he, too, had realised how angry Hermione was.

"Who decided that? And why?" She glared at Runcorn with narrowed eyes.

"The Head Warden, after talking to Skeeter." The man coughed. "Err… he said - he, I'm just repeating his words - that this way, we didn't have to worry about her escaping the cell when we entered it or fed her. And the prisoner wouldn't suffer as much from the Dementors," he added quickly.

"Was that also a concern for the Head Warden, or did you just think of it?" Ron asked.

The man stared at him as if he had forgotten Ron was present. "Uh… In any case, it's true."

Hermione scoffed. "Keeping an animagus for years in their animal form! That's… that's…" She shook her head again.

"Sirius Black did it, and he was fine," Runcorn pointed out.

"He was anything but fine," Hermione retorted. "And he didn't spend the entire time in dog form without a break - and he certainly wasn't kept in a cage for dogs!"

"But…" Runcorn pressed his lips together.

"Did anyone verify that Skeeter agreed to this?" Hermione looked at the glass jar again. The beetle inside didn't seem to have reacted to their presence at all.

Runcorn didn't answer, which was answer enough.

Ron eyed the jar. "Do we get her out and ask her?" He wasn't exactly serious - he was a police officer, well, a former police officer. You didn't just take a prisoner out of their cell. Although this situation might be an exception.

And Hermione was considering it - he could see her bite her lower lip before she raised her chin slightly. "No. We have no idea about her state of mind. And she might try to escape - especially if she has lost her mind."

Ron nodded and tried not to grimace. To be stuck as a bug for years. Living, sleeping, eating like a bug. Stuck in a jar. Which was in a damp, dark cell. Nothing to read, nothing to do but think - if you could still think. He had read stories about people stuck in animal form. Fictional stories, but still… He shuddered as a cold shiver ran down his spine.

And he kept shivering. Wait… "Are there Dementors nearby?" he asked.

"No - they only come by three times a day, on this level," Runcorn said. He blinked. "It can't…"

"It feels like the Dementors," Hermione said, already raising her wand. "Expecto Patronum!" she yelled.

Once more, a silvery, translucent otter appeared and floated in the air for a few seconds before shooting out of the door into the hallway.

Ron thought he heard some faint hissing, but he wasn't sure. The cold receded, in any case - not that it felt at all warm. And the bug was scrambling up the walls of the jar. "That got a reaction," he said, nodding at the beetle.

"Oh!" Hermione gasped, then took a step closer, peering at the beetle. "Did she recognise the spell? Or is this just an instinctive reaction to a bright light? Do you understand me, Miss Skeeter?"

The bug kept flailing its legs against the glass and flaring its wings.

"Inconclusive," Ron commented.

Hermione frowned at him for a moment before she nodded in agreement. She turned to Runcorn. "We've seen enough. The conditions in this prison are appalling. And it seems that you don't have as much control over the Dementors as you think you do, either, if they can roam the prison without your knowledge."

"Ah… we're not actually supposed to be in the hallways when the Dementors patrol," Runcorn replied.

"You mean when they come to feed on and torture the prisoners," Hermione corrected him.

Runcorn opened his mouth, then closed it again, pressing his lips together.

"Look, we know it's not your fault," Ron told him. He ignored the huff from Hermione. "But you're the guy leading us around, so you get to hear our comments. So don't be afraid to speak up."

Runcorn still hesitated for a few more seconds, then took a deep breath. "These are Death Eaters and other dark wizards. People who've tortured and murdered others. Why do you care so much about them? They tried to kill you, didn't they? And they killed your friends."

"Yes, they did," Hermione said. "Though Skeeter's guilt is somewhat in dispute. But that doesn't mean we should treat them as they wanted to treat us. We're supposed to be better than them."

Ron nodded, though if he was honest, then he couldn't say what he'd be feeling if those Death Eaters had gone after his family - or had murdered friends of his. Though he hoped that he'd draw the line at torture.

No one deserved Dementors.

*****

The monsters appeared twice more on their way back to the tower above. Not that Ron ever saw them - he only felt the cold, felt his thoughts turn dark, then saw Hermione recast her Patronus Charm, which drove the Dementors away.

"I can see you have the Dementors under complete control," Hermione commented once they were finally past the portcullis that separated the dungeon from the rest of the prison.

"They… this has never happened before," the wizard replied. He looked quite pale and was still shivering a little.

"Did the prisoners complain about the Dementors visiting whenever they want?" Ron asked.

"They always complain about the Dementors," Runcorn told him. "So… we… it's usually assumed that they lost track of time. After a while, they become incoherent, anyway…" He grimaced.

Hermione huffed again. "Of course they would… if they are constantly being fed upon."

Runcorn flinched. "We didn't know that. We had no idea about that."

"Do you even have a headcount for the Dementors?" Ron asked. "Or did you just count the ones outside?"

Once more, the sudden silence was enough.

"Great," Ron muttered. "It's Jurassic Park all over again."

Hermione snorted, but Runcorn looked confused. "Pardon?"

"A movie," Ron explained. "Where a similar lack of oversight and control led to disaster." And to a box office hit.

"It doesn't matter. It's a good thing that the prison is going to be shut down - the conditions of the prisoners are appalling, and it's obvious that no one has a clear idea of what's actually happening here," Hermione said.

And Ron had a feeling that the lack of accurate information extended to other areas as well. Especially areas where an enterprising guard could skim money. He wasn't a wizard, but some things were the same whether you had magic or not.

But that was a matter for another day. For now, he wanted to leave the island. News of Hermione's assessment would spread quickly, and he would prefer not to find out the hard way whether or not the Head Warden was willing to arrange an accident to cover up his negligence - or even worse crimes. "Let's leave," he said. "I'm freezing."

Fortunately, Hermione understood what he meant and didn't argue. "Yes. Let's leave."

"Err." Runcorn was wincing again. "I think the Head Warden wanted to see you afterwards."

"Really? He didn't say anything to me," Hermione replied. "And I don't want to see him right now. I fear I might lose my temper and curse him."

Runcorn smiled weakly. "I understand."

"Do you?" Hermione cocked her head. "Better late than never, I guess. Lead us to the pier. Expecto Patronum!"

Escorted by the otter swimming through the air, they weren't bothered by any Dementors on the way and, one climb down a very steep set of stairs later, they were back on the ferry.

As they left the pier, Ron studied the cliff again. Scaling it would be hard, but they could take the stairs - he was sure that the guards didn't post anyone at the pier, especially not at night. And they knew the Dementors roamed the island, not just the dungeons.

Yes, capturing one of the fiends shouldn't be too hard.

He glanced at Hermione, who was glaring at the island. "Just like last time," he heard her mutter. "I expected better of them."

Ron had an idea who she was talking about.

*****

"No! You can't just assume that everything's alright!" she yelled, slamming both her palms on the table. "That's not how things work - that's a recipe for corruption!" Why didn't her friends realise that?

"But, Hermione…" Ron started. "How would elves be corrupted?"

Oh, for the love of… "Not elves! Their masters!"

"Dumbledore?" Harry asked, cocking his head with a puzzled expression. "I don't think he'd let the elves be abused."

"And how much do you think he would know? You've met elves; they're even worse than you."

"What?" Harry blinked.

"They would never complain to us," she explained. "If you ask them, they'll say they're fine." They had said so to numerous inquiries from her. "Just like you."

"Oi!" Ron protested as Harry blushed. "You can't compare Harry to an elf."

"In this area, yes, I can." She nodded firmly, then glared at her friends. "And that's why we have to observe them secretly, to find out the truth."

"You mean… spy on them?" Ron asked.

"Observe them," she corrected him. "It's for their own good. We can't help them if we don't know what they need."

"Sounds like spying to me," he grumbled.

She huffed. "Well, it's not!"

Then she turned to Harry. "We'll need your cloak, and we'll have to work in shifts. I've made a schedule that will allow us to observe them without cutting into our homework time." Ron opened his mouth, and she quickly added: "I've also taken the time needed for Quidditch practice into account." Grudgingly, of course. But some things her friends wouldn't budge on, no matter how important their task was.

"Alright. But I'm telling you, they're fine."

"We shall see. Trust, but verify," she quoted.

Not that she had a lot of trust left for this particular part of Wizarding Britain. To think the elves were forced to have their memories wiped if they ever left a wizard's service… They could be abused horribly, but wouldn't even remember it!

*****

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 67: The Unspeakable

Lake Black, Scotland, April 20th, 2006

"It's a disgrace! A scandal! A crime against humanity, run by incompetents or sadists - or, possibly, both! Neglect, willful neglect, has probably done as much as deliberate cruelty!"

Ron was very glad that Hermione's anger wasn't directed at him. She was pacing in her lab and ranting.

Still, as much as he agreed that a little venting did you good, he wasn't entirely certain whether that also applied to wizards and witches. Accidental magic was a thing, wasn't it? Or so he'd heard. Supposedly, it was limited to kids, but… he'd rather not find out that was wrong the hard way.

So he cleared his throat. "Good thing the prison's going to be abolished, then."

She turned her head, glaring at him, then took a deep breath - he saw her chest heave - and slowly nodded. "Yes. But it should have been closed long ago! This is… barbaric! Callous! And my best friends could have done something about it, but didn't!"

Ah. Yes, that was the crux of the issue. This could get ugly. Real ugly. "Well, they weren't responsible for the prison - they're Aurors, not Hit-Wizards, right?"

And now she was glaring at him again. "They could have inspected the prison any time they wanted! They should have, actually - you can't use Azkaban as a dumping ground for the dregs of the Ministry, and then just assume they'll actually do their duty!"

Well, she wasn't wrong. On the other hand… "They also thought you had been killed by Death Eaters when they restaffed Azkaban."

She winced, and he felt guilty for doing this. It hadn't been her fault, after all.

Sighing, she sat down behind her desk. "I know that. But even if that excused their neglect, it's been seven years since - six, at the least. They should have visited the prison and checked on the prisoners."

Ron nodded. He could've argued some more, but… wizarding Harry and wizarding Ron could defend themselves when they arrived.

*****​

"But we did inspect the prison - we didn't see anything out of the ordinary," Ron's counterpart said.

"You didn't notice the prisoners' mental deterioration?" Hermione asked.

Ron's counterpart shook his head. "Well, sure we did - but that's normal for Azkaban. Not to mention that the Death Eaters weren't exactly stable to begin with."

Hermione glared at him. "And the thieves and other criminals? Some of them were so far gone, they couldn't understand that the prison would be closing."

"St Mungo's took care of those who were released," wizarding Harry said. "At least the Healers are supposed to," he added when Hermione turned towards him.

"We can't exactly control everyone," wizarding Ron told her. "We checked that the cells were remodelled and cleaned up, that the guards knew their duties and that the procedures had been changed. You should've seen the state the prison was in before we took over." The wizard blinked. "On second thought, no, you shouldn't have - it was ghastly."

Ron almost snorted. But then he remembered that Voldemort would have used the prison during the war. The horrors that must have occurred there… he shuddered.

"I can imagine. But even so - did you know that they kept Skeeter in a jar? In her beetle form?" Hermione put both hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes at them.

"They said she was OK with it," Ron's counterpart protested. "And you know that the Dementors hurt animagi in animal form less."

"And did you check with her whether she actually agreed to that?"

The two wizards glanced at each other.

"I thought as much." Hermione huffed.

"We can't check everything ourselves," wizarding Harry repeated.

"Well, someone needs to check everything. An inspector general or something," Hermione snapped. "This lack of oversight means abuse and corruption won't be uncovered!"

"You'd be great for the job?" Ron's counterpart tentatively suggested. Hermione glared at him, but the wizard smiled. "Honest - not many wizards or witches know as much about so much as you do. If you know what I mean."

"You know that I've got my work here," Hermione replied. "Work that probably would've been completed already, if not for this… this mess!"

That wasn't entirely correct, at least as far as Ron could tell. They were close to finalising the wording for the Fidelius Charm but hadn't yet perfected it. And Azkaban had nothing to do with that. But mentioning that wouldn't be constructive. "Well, let me guess: no money for another department?" he asked.

In hindsight, that probably hadn't been very constructive, either.

His counterpart snorted, and wizarding Harry replied: "Even if there were money - it wouldn't cost too much, I think - most of the Ministry would fight tooth and nail against such a proposal."

"Oh, yeah." Wizarding Ron nodded. "The departmental infighting would become even worse. Everyone would try to use the inspector to damage their rivals. And no one would trust them." He grinned again. "That's why you'd be perfect for the job - you wouldn't be swayed."

"People would assume I'm in your and Shacklebolt's pocket," Hermione told him.

"They'd assume that of anyone who Kingsley proposed for such a post," Ron's counterpart replied.

Not for the first time, Ron noted that, despite magic, office politics were the same in both worlds.

"Regardless, I don't have the time to do it," she told them, still glaring at them.

"Well, don't look at us - we're busy with our jobs, too," Ron's counterpart replied.

"We can't do everything. Even if we had the gold, we don't have the Aurors," wizarding Harry added.

"Though the gold wouldn't hurt," wizarding Ron added with a grin.

Hermione's frown turned into a deep scowl. "I'm not going to pay - or, to be more precise, let Dumbledore pay - for something the Ministry should have already had in place."

"Why not?" Ron's counterpart asked. "He's filthy rich, isn't he? Makes the Malfoys and Blacks look like the Weasleys, as I understand it. And you're working for him - his money bought this lab, didn't it?"

She grimaced in response - she would know what her friend had just implied. "Yes, he could probably easily afford to do so. Compared to the costs of running a prison, the gold needed to pay for an inspector general and support staff wouldn't be particularly significant."

Ron nodded in agreement. If they cut costs with enough diligence, shaved off some of the padding that every offer would have, they could probably free up enough money to pay for such an office. But…

Hermione sighed. "But he's not the Dumbledore you knew. He's a former spymaster. Current, actually - just these days, he runs his own organisation instead of MI6."

"Like the Order of the Phoenix?" Ron's counterpart asked.

"Somewhat, yes. But loyal to him and Grindelwald."

"Right." The wizard nodded. "Grindelwald. You don't trust him, and you don't trust Dumbledore."

Hermione sighed. "I trust him - to a certain degree. He, both of them, actually, have dealt with us fairly. But… I don't know if I would trust him with so much control over the Ministry."

"But you trust him with control over the portal?" Wizarding Harry raised his eyebrows.

"I am the only one, so far, who can open a portal. The only one who understands everything about it. He needs me as much as I need him." Hermione bit her lower lip. "But I don't want him to gain even more power - or leverage."

"Yet you arranged for him to pay for a new prison. That already gives him a lot of influence in the Ministry," wizarding Harry pointed out.

"Oh, yeah," Ron's counterpart agreed. "Dad said everyone's already very interested in the 'anonymous donor' behind the new prison. They smell more money."

"Well, it's supposedly my inheritance," Ron said, "so they'll set their sights on me, rather than Dumbledore."

"But it's still his money. If he cuts you off…" Wizarding Ron grimaced.

"We have secured enough money to pay for the prison and for running it for several years," Hermione told him. "We're not at his mercy."

Not completely, at least. Still… any influence Ron might be tempted to build up with his supposed wealth would, ultimately, be Dumbledore's.

Wizarding Harry frowned. "That sounds like he's got a hold on you. At least, it doesn't sound as if you'd have the upper hand, if things should become difficult."

"Yes," Hermione replied, not quite through clenched teeth, but Ron could tell it was a near thing.

"Couldn't you have found another source of money?" Wizarding Harry frowned a little himself.

Her frown deepened. "It would have taken me too long and threatened a number of urgent projects. Such as ensuring the safety of our families. Using Dumbledore's money means the current abomination of a prison will be shut down as fast as possible."

Her friend nodded with a slight smile. "We understand. Sometimes - often - you have to compromise, since you can't afford the perfect solution."

"Right," Ron's counterpart agreed with a grin.

Hermione glared at them. Hoist by her own petard, so to speak. Ron patted her thigh. It wasn't her fault.

"The situations aren't exactly the same," she said with a sniff. "There's a difference between juggling life and death decisions and negotiating a budget."

"If the Auror office doesn't get enough funding for training and recruitment, we'll become understaffed. And that means more people will make more mistakes - potentially fatal ones," Harry shot back.

"And Percy will gladly entertain you with all sorts of anecdotes about what ugly accidents will happen if the Ministry cannot enforce, say, the regulations about the thickness of cauldron bottoms ," Ron's counterpart said. "Though, to be honest, he isn't wrong. And any accident that could've been prevented means more work for St Mungo's - and if the Healers start to get overworked…"

"Yes, yes, I understood it the first time," Hermione said. "But we're talking about torture! Do I have to show you my memories of today's visit?"

"That won't be necessary," wizarding Harry quickly told her.

"We were there shortly after the war," his friend added.

"Good." Hermione glared at both wizards. "Because we're going to destroy Azkaban, and I need your help for that."

Her tone brooked no argument.

Of course, her friends argued anyway. "Destroy Azkaban? How?" Ron's counterpart asked. "It's a cursed island. I mean, you could destroy the prison piece by piece, but…"

"You're not planning to use muggle bombs, are you?" Wizarding Harry's expression told Ron that he was thinking of certain bombs in particular.

"What? No. That wouldn't work. They tried that with Heligoland, and it didn't work despite the enormous amount of explosives used." Hermione shook her head.

"You looked into it," wizarding Harry said in a flat voice. "Of course you did."

"Of course," she confirmed. "In any case, destroying the island isn't the problem. The Dementors are the problem. The main problem."

"And how do you plan to deal with them? Not literally dealing, I hope?" wizarding Ron asked.

"Certainly not," Hermione retorted with a huff. "You'd have to be a fool to make a deal with those monsters."

"We didn't make the deal; it goes back to the founding of the Ministry," Ron's counterpart retorted. "Well, almost. Close enough."

"It doesn't matter when exactly the deal was made," Hermione said, "what matters is that it's time it ended."

"So how do you plan to deal with them? Leave them on the island?" wizarding Harry asked.

"That's a short-term solution at best. While they cannot leave the island by themselves, it'll require constant surveillance to prevent others from making a deal with them."

And taking them off the island. The Dementors were the perfect terror weapon, especially against muggles. Ron shuddered again. The idea that he could be killed by something sucking out his soul, yet he wouldn't even realise, much less see his killer…

"No, they need to be destroyed," Hermione went on.

"And do you know how?" wizarding Harry asked. "I'm no Unspeakable, but I know that pretty much everything was tried on them, and nothing worked."

"We're working on that," Hermione told him with a frown. "And yes, everything was tried against the Dementors - in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Both magic and technology have greatly advanced since then."

"Actually, I think Percy mentioned that the Unspeakables regularly try new spells on Dementors," Ron's counterpart said. "At least for a while now. It might've been someone's pet project - I don't remember the details."

Hermione leaned forward. "Really? We need the documentation of those experiments! This could save us so much time!" Then she frowned. "I should've thought of that myself! Of course, the Department of Mysteries wouldn't just ignore an apparently immortal - or, depending on how you define living and immortal, at least indestructible - creature!"

"Well…" Ron's counterpart looked at his friend. Both seemed to be a little embarrassed, Ron noted.

"We'll have to check. When we took over the Ministry, a number of Unspeakables either fled or were arrested, and between them destroying evidence of their crimes and collateral damage from the arrests, the department suffered somewhat," wizarding Harry said.

Hermione gasped. "You mean…?"

Wizarding Harry winced. "Yes, some of their books and notes were destroyed."

"It wasn't our fault," wizarding Ron hastily added. "We couldn't let them go, not after what they…" He shrugged.

Hermione nodded. "Yes. It's obviously their fault. But we need to check what knowledge they gathered - and kept secret - about the Dementors." She frowned. "Who is the current Department Head, anyway?"

"Saul Croaker. He was the Head Unspeakable before the takeover, and he went to ground during the war," wizarding Harry told her.

"Well, he says he did," Ron's counterpart added. "We haven't any proof - but we don't have any hint that he didn't, so to speak."

"And he's in charge again?" Hermione narrowed her eyes.

"He was the only one available who knew enough to do the job and wasn't a confirmed Death Eater or Death Eater supporter," wizarding Harry explained. He winced as he added: "There were hardly any Unspeakables - at all - left at the end of the war."

"Office politics there were literally murder," Ron added with a snort. "Percy loves to say that. I bet he's slightly jealous of them."

Ron chuckled. "I understand the sentiment. I had to work with Dawlish in CI5."

Hermione frowned at them both, then sighed. "Let's hope that Mr Croaker is cooperative."

"And what if he isn't?" Ron asked. "Or asks for a bribe?"

"He won't - he knows that we would immediately arrest him," wizarding Harry said. "But he might ask for help with something, claiming that he is so busy, he can't find the time to help us, but if someone helped with his workload…" He scowled.

"He's pulled that with Harry often enough," wizarding Ron explained. "He wanted to experiment on the scar. Something about a defence against the Killing Curse ."

"Hah! As if I'd let anyone do that," his friend spat. "Much less on such an obvious pretext. He wanted a look at the remains of one of Voldemort's Horcruxes."

"He sounds like a mad scientist," Ron commented. And a stereotype of one, to be honest.

"Oh, that fits him," wizarding Harry confirmed.

"Great." Ron sighed. A mad scientist who could shape reality at will. That was only funny if you read about it in those ham-fisted old sci-fi novels. But to meet one?

And God help them all if Croaker found out that dimensional travel was possible.

Perhaps he should sit this one out - he couldn't protect his mind, after all. He cleared his throat. "I assume that he can read minds?"

"You mean Legilimency?" Hermione corrected him while looking at her friends.

"Well… we don't actually know. But it's safer to assume that he does than that he doesn't," wizarding Harry said with a slightly sheepish smile. "There's no register for Legilimens."

"And if there were, people wouldn't register anyway," Ron's counterpart added. "It's just like with animagi: if others know you can do it, you lose most of its benefits. Although both are very rare."

"But you think Croaker is skilled at Legilimency," Hermione said.

"It would fit him. He sometimes tries to act like a distracted old wizard - a little like Dumbledore - but he also likes to make cryptic remarks," wizarding Harry replied.

"Or cheap philosophy," wizarding Ron said. "Anyway, he's never tried to read our minds. Or if he has, then he's so good at it that we never noticed. And it would've been wandless, too - he wouldn't have been able to draw a wand without us noticing."

"A wandless Legilimens, skilled enough to slip past your Occlumency? That does sound a little far-fetched," Hermione said. "We should be safe, then."

"You might be safe - but I can't protect my mind," Ron pointed out. "And I wouldn't notice an intruder, I don't think." Croaker would know Ron was a muggle and, therefore, vulnerable, too. And if he read Ron's mind, he'd know everything about the portal - and about their friends and families. "I don't think I should meet him."

"Well, mate, that does sound like a good idea," his counterpart agreed.

"There's an easy defence against Legilimency," Hermione said. "Just wear mirrored shades. Or any other shades that won't let them look into your eyes."

"Would that work?" That would be so simple…

"It should," she replied. "I don't know any Legilimency techniques that don't require eye contact." She looked at her friends.

Both wizards shook their heads. "I don't know any, either," wizarding Harry said. "I'm no expert, though - but 'avert your eyes' is a standard tactic for Aurors faced with a potential Legilimens."

Ron's counterpart grinned at Hermione. "Well, if you don't know of any, then I think we can safely assume that that'll work." After growing serious, he added: "If there is a way to bypass that tactic, it'd be a nightmare, though."

"No one and no secret would be safe - we'd have to make Occlumency mandatory at Hogwarts," wizarding Harry agreed.

Hermione snorted. "It should have been an elective, anyway. Taught by a decent teacher, of course. Not someone like… Snape."

Both her friends nodded in agreement. "But finding one would be a chore and a half. To teach Occlumency, they would have to enter your mind - to test you. Can you imagine people like the Greengrasses and Boneses allowing anyone to read their kids' minds? The kind of secrets they'd discover…" wizarding Ron scoffed. "They'd never trust a teacher not to abuse that. Obliviation might help, but..."

"That would require the teacher to trust someone not to remove more than merely the memories of the lesson," his friend added. "Or alter them."

"Yes." Hermione nodded. "But it still should be taught for those, like us, who need it."

"No argument here," wizarding Ron agreed. "It would certainly give those families without dark secrets to hide an edge."

It would be quite ironic if those who didn't have much to hide would be able to learn Occlumency, while those who had dark secrets wouldn't dare take public lessons. Still… "Can we test the shades?" Ron asked.

"We need a Legilimens for that," Hermione said. "And as Ron explained, they generally don't advertise their talents."

"We need a trustworthy Legilimens," wizarding Harry corrected her, grinning when she scowled at him.

"That was implied," she said. "Or should've been. Now, do you know anyone who would fit?"

"Ah…" wizarding Ron sighed. "No one alive." He winced at his own words, "I mean… Sorry."

Hermione nodded, and for a moment, everyone remained silent and made Ron feel like an outsider.

Damn. "I don't think we should risk it," he said. Even though he really wanted to see the Department of Mysteries - who wouldn't, in his place? Vaults full of ancient wonders and magical items…

Hermione frowned. "You can't try to hide from potential Legilimens whenever we are in Wizarding Britain."

"I don't plan to," he replied. "But risking Croaker finding out about us...." He shook his head. "It's not worth it."

"If he's willing to invade your mind, then he'd come after you anyway - he knows you're a muggle," his counterpart pointed out.

"But if I show up with mirror shades, he'll know I've got something to hide," Ron retorted.

"Well, he already knows that - you're with Hermione," wizarding Ron replied. "And you've been seen with us. And you're a Weasley." He shrugged. "Just use the shades."

Ron wanted to curse under his breath. Not about getting to see the Department of Mysteries, but because he'd just realised he'd be a person of interest for all sorts of wizards and witches for the rest of his life. He could only hope that Hermione's Fidelius Charm would solve that as well.

Which meant they would have to go over the wording again.

Great.

*****​

Ministry of Magic, Whitehall, London, Wizarding World, April 22nd, 2006

"Croaker must have wanted to meet with you," Ron said after recovering from his trip through the fireplace - he was still getting used to the Floo Network.

"What makes you think that?" she asked as she used her wand to clean some soot from his clothes. Her own already looked immaculate.

"He's meeting with you just a day after the request was made - and on a Saturday," Ron told her. That wasn't a good sign in his book. If important people bent over backwards to meet you, they usually wanted something - something urgent or significant, or both.

And if the Head of the Unspeakables, whose department oversaw all sorts of dangerous and often questionable research, wanted something from you... Yeah, you didn't have to be an archwizard - did wizards and witches use that term? - to realise that wasn't a good thing.

"Yes, I'm aware of that. On the other hand, if he's anything like other researchers I know, he would've been working on a Saturday anyway," Hermione replied.

"Researchers like yourself?" Ron asked with a grin. "I do remember a cot in your office…"

She pouted at him. "I had very good reasons to work as much as possible on my projects. Reasons that are still valid today," she added. "We really need to finish our research."

"I know," he replied as he pulled his shades out of his pocket. Mirrored shades. In 2006. Indoors. Ginny would never let him live it down if she heard about it. And she probably would. "I'm still not sure about this," he said. "If it's so easy to block a Legilimens, why hasn't it been done before?"

"Legilimens are rare. Occlumency exists. And - for wizards and witches, at least - mirrored shades, as well as other sorts of shades, are relatively new," Hermione replied. With a grin, she added: "And wearing them would announce that you had secrets worth protecting in your mind."

Which was exactly what he was doing, of course. But then, Croaker would already suspect that - as Ron had been told, stupid people didn't become Unspeakables. Or, if they did, they didn't survive for long. He sighed. "Well, let's go before we get kicked out for blocking traffic or something."

"What traffic?" Hermione snorted and pointedly looked round the Atrium. Except for three Hit-Wizards, two of them at the fireplaces, and one Auror at the lifts, it was empty.

"Wouldn't stop a cop with a grudge." And Ron had a feeling that he and Hermione weren't the Hit-Wizards' favourite people right now.

"Really. You'd think they'd be glad that they won't be forced to guard Azkaban any more," Hermione said with a huff.

"With the Ministry strapped for gold, they might fear being sacked," Ron replied. "And without Azkaban, more people might apply to become Hit-Wizards. More qualified ones."

"You should hear what Harry and Ron have to say about the Hit-Wizards," she told him with a sigh. "It's like listening to football fans talking about their team's rivals."

"Well…" Ron coughed. Bitching about other agencies was a way of life. Or about superiors. Or colleagues. And Parliament, of course. Not to mention the Treasury.

She sighed, shaking her head at him - though her lips were twisted into a smile. "Let's go."

They went to the lift. The Auror there, a young witch, had been eyeing them since they had arrived. Ron knew the type: rookie, stuck with a mind-numbingly boring and mainly pointless assignment, but oh so determined to do a really good job so they would be assigned to better work.

Some of them didn't realise for the longest time that their performance didn't really matter. It hadn't for Harry and himself - they had to go through this like everyone else, and for the same amount of time. Especially since they had been famous for the Riddle and Pettigrew incidents. Now, once they had started doing actual police work, things had changed rapidly, of course.

The witch stood straight, almost at attention. "Ma'am. Sir."

"Good afternoon," Hermione replied with a polite smile.

"Good afternoon." Ron was tempted to comment on shit jobs but managed to rein himself in and nodded at her. As a rookie, he hadn't liked civilians or retired cops being jovial with him, so he wasn't about to inflict that on others. He did grin at the way she stared at his shades, though.

The Auror cleared her throat. "Ah… what are you doing here? I mean…" She blushed, then straightened some more. "I have to log any visitors."

At the lifts? Ron would have expected that to be done at a reception desk. And he remembered one, from his last visit.

Hermione, though, didn't seem to be surprised. "We've got an appointment with Saul Croaker," she told the Auror.

"Oh." The Auror nodded. "I wasn't told who would be arriving. I'm sorry."

Was Croaker playing more games? If they checked your identity at the lift, then it couldn't have been an attempt to keep their visit a secret. Unless it was merely to prevent rumours from spreading in advance of today.

Or it might be an attempt to keep them guessing and wondering. A psy-op lite.

Ron almost wished that Dumbledore were here with them if only to see him face off with the Head Unspeakable. That would be a fun experience.

At least Hermione looked less than fashionable either once she put on her own mirrored shades in the cabin of the lift. "We look like rejects from the Eighties," he commented with a smirk as he pushed the button for the lowest level. He noticed that the button didn't have a plaque next to it, unlike the other buttons.

"Function before fashion," she countered. "Besides, compared to what's fashionable in some wizarding circles, this is positively elegant and understated."

Well, he couldn't really argue with that. Not after what he had seen in Diagon Alley. So he nodded. "Although it's a different country," he said. A different world, even. "Can't expect them to dress like home."

She frowned before replying: "Some basic sense of fashion should still be present. Especially when borrowing elements from another culture."

"Well, where was that in the Seventies?"

She had no answer to that, judging by the deep frown she aimed at him. He shrugged with a smile. "Different cultures, different tastes."

"Are you quoting a novel or a TV series at me?"

He laughed. "At most it would be paraphrasing." Tolerance was a common theme in many works, after all.

Before she could answer, the cabin stopped - they had arrived.

The entrance to the Department of Mysteries looked almost ordinary. It was done in the same style as the rest of the Ministry, although devoid of any decor, signs or anything else on the bare walls and the polished stone floor. The massive door, though, would've fit a Swiss bank vault. Or Fort Knox in some movies.

"I'd have expected guards here," he commented as the two of them stepped into the room.

"Me too," she said. "The things they keep here would certainly deserve them."

"Did you ever break into this department?"

She shook her head as she walked over to the door. "No. But I did read up on it."

"They've got books on the department?" Ron wouldn't have trusted any book written about such a place. He'd have expected disinformation.

"No. I read Dumbledore's notes."

Her Dumbledore's, of course. "Ah."

She tapped her wand three times on a completely unremarkable spot on the vault. A moment later, Ron heard a disembodied male voice which seemed to come from the centre of the room. "Yes?"

"Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. We've got an appointment," she said.

"Welcome," the voice answered.

A moment later, the vault door started to slowly swing open.

"The entrance to Diagon Alley looked more magical," Ron mumbled.

"This might just be for show. Dumbledore's notes mentioned that this floor wasn't 'fully settled', Hermione told him.

"What does that mean?"

She grimaced. "I don't know. Dumbledore was a great wizard, but he was also eccentric."

"Ah." Ron felt like grimacing as well. A mad wizard. Or, to be more precise, a mad archwizard. Unless it had all been an act, of course. Which wasn't very unlikely, given what he knew about the wizard's counterpart in Ron's world.

By now the vault door had fully opened. There was no airlock behind it - but then, wizards probably had other ways of achieving that. Although there was… "A waterfall?" A tiny one, but large enough to cover the entire hallway's length.

She nodded. "The Thief's Downfall. Goblin-made, to deal with magical disguises and spells of all kinds." She waved her wand for a moment, then nodded and stepped through the waterfall.

He followed her. If this was a trap, then they were probably screwed anyway. The hallway after the waterfall seemed to go on forever. "Let me guess: more smoke and mirrors?" he asked.

"Yes," Hermione replied. "Dumbledore mentioned this trick in his notes. We just have to keep walking and we'll arrive at a rotating room."

That was reassuring.

The walk still felt like it was longer than it should've been. "I wonder what they do if they ever need to evacuate. Pull a Tarkin?"

She snorted at that, just as a door suddenly appeared in front of them - and opened right away, revealing a smiling old man in black robes, though with the hood down. And no beard, just thin white hair on the fringe of a bald plate.

"Saul Croaker," he introduced himself. "Welcome."

The voice didn't match the one they had heard, Ron noted.

"Thank you for having us," Hermione replied.

"On a Saturday," Ron added.

"Oh, to meet you I would have sacrificed my entire weekend - if I didn't spend most of my weekends here, anyway," the wizard told them as he stepped aside - and the hallway behind him transformed into an old-fashioned office. "Please, have a seat."

As if on cue, a couch appeared out of thin air.

As he followed Hermione in, Ron couldn't help wondering whether the hallways outside would disappear as soon as the door closed behind them.

"You seem to be very used to magic," Croaker commented, nodding at Ron. "Or you have remarkable self-control."

"A bit of both, if I'm honest," he replied. He grinned at Hermione. "It comes with the territory, so to speak."

She frowned in return. "His humour needs some work," she said.

Croaker chuckled politely. Probably at both of them. "Would you like some tea?"

"I'm fine, thank you," Ron said. He wouldn't trust the Unspeakable's tea even if he could brew it himself.

"As am I," Hermione agreed.

"You're very cautious. Which is laudable, of course, especially considering your profession." Croaker made a point of looking at their shades. "Quite an ingenious device. It's not even enchanted, Is it? Or spelled against Transfiguration?"

"Should it have been?" Hermione retorted. "There could only be one reason to tamper with our shades, after all."

Ron nodded. A clearly hostile reason.

Croaker laughed in return. It sounded genuine - which rang all sorts of alarm bells in Ron's mind. The Unspeakable obviously wasn't worried about them threatening him.

And, as Ron should've expected, Hermione didn't like it at all. She pressed her lips together until her mouth formed a thin line, and, presumably, she was glaring at the wizard behind her shades.

"I can assure you, the rumours of what happens in my department are vastly exaggerated," Croaker said. "We don't sacrifice muggles to dark forces."

"Not any more, you mean," Hermione retorted.

And the wizard raised his eyebrows. It looked like an honest reaction, but it was hard to tell. "I don't acknowledge the actions during the occupation as my department's," he said. "The crimes committed seven years ago were done on behalf of the Dark Lord, not the Ministry."

"Convenient," Ron commented.

"Should you be held responsible for what someone who sneaked into your home and forced you out then proceeded to do?" Croaker shook his head."I think not. The whole Ministry would be guilty in that case. Or the whole of Britain, from a certain point of view."

He had a point. Hermione huffed anyway. "I wasn't talking about the most recent 'unfortunate episode'."

Croaker finally lost his smile. "You've read Albus's notes, then. Those are his words."

Hermione nodded. "It was enlightening."

"Albus had quite rigid views sometimes. Surprising, given his own past."

"I wouldn't call it surprising. 'Understandable' seems more fitting;" Hermione replied. "He knew better than most what he was talking about."

"I cannot contest the truth of that statement." Croaker nodded. "And did he talk to you about those things?"

"Only to cover what was needed to defeat Voldemort."

"That's a very vague statement. Almost evasive in its uncertainty. Some of my past colleagues would've found that reason enough to justify the worst of experiments."

"But you knew Dumbledore, so you know better." Hermione wasn't quite smiling, but the corners of her lips were twisting upwards.

"Touché." Croaker nodded again, more slowly. "You're hard to unbalance. No doubt a result of your history."

"Many others were touched as much by the war as I was. Many more suffered worse."

"But few were taken into Albus's confidence." Croaker steepled his fingers. "Messrs Potter and Weasley were remarkably tight-lipped about their work with Dumbledore. Their refusal to go into details about the Dark Lord's defeat was most vexing. Almost as vexing as Mr Potter's refusal to help with the research into a defence against the Killing Curse - on an academic level, of course. As we all know, hiding behind a wall works very well against the Killing Curse. For a time, at least."

For someone who kept referring to Dumbledore by his first name, Croaker certainly didn't seem to have had the wizard's trust.

"I wasn't present when Voldemort was killed," Hermione replied. "I had my accident before that."

"But you were privy to Albus's plan." Croaker didn't ask - he stated. "While no one would dare claim that your friends were ordinary wizards, they weren't what we would call academically inclined. You, on the other hand, were amongst the brightest students to attend Hogwarts."

"Dumbledore told me nothing that he didn't tell my friends as well," Hermione replied. She didn't sound merely annoyed, though.

"Oh, I assume so. But that's not what I was talking about. Your life came under quite the scrutiny after your apparent and heroic demise. Between all the well-deserved praise, although undoubtedly heaped upon you in part by people you never knew existed, enough actual information could be found to study your character." He grinned. "You were never content with merely knowing something. You always wanted to know everything."

"There's a huge difference between wanting to know something and being able to learn it," she retorted.

"And that is where Albus would've come in. Did you know that his personal library was never found? The Ministry searched for it after his murder, as did the Dark Lod after he took over, but no one found it."

"I'm sure Dumbledore took steps to settle his estate before he was murdered," Hermione replied. "As was his right."

"Indeed. Will you emulate his example, then?"

Hermione shrugged. "I'm more concerned with current events than my death in the hopefully distant future."

"Which won't happen for several decades," Ron added with a glare - at both of them.

Hermione grinned, then leaned forward. "Was that why you wanted to meet me?"

"The chance to secure Dumbledore's private library for future generations certainly crossed my mind," Croaker replied.

"You mean bury it in your vaults," Hermione retorted.

"Only those works which are too dangerous in the wrong hands."

"Everything is too dangerous in the wrong hands." Hermione snorted. "Even Flobberworms."

Croaker winced. "Professor Hagrid is a little too enthusiastic at times."

Ron winced in turn - he didn't think Hagrid anything on the Lunas or the twins - either set - when it came to dangerous enthusiasm.

The wizard sighed. "But that wasn't my main motivation for seeking this meeting - merely a welcome side benefit."

"And what was your main motivation?"

He beamed at her. "Recruitment."

Hermione tensed up.

*****​

"Recruitment?" She frowned, blinking. Had she heard correctly?

"Yes, my dear! I'd like to recruit you for the Slug Club." Professor Slughorn beamed at her.

"Me?" She narrowed her eyes.

"Of course. You are one of the most brilliant students in your year, after all."

She scoffed. "I wasn't aware that you counted being born a pureblood as a sign of talent."

His smile faltered a little. Just a tiny bit, but she caught it. "I don't know why you'd have that impression, my dear."

"Really?" She cocked her head at him. "It took you how long to go through all the purebloods for your gatherings before you decided to invite me?"

"That's no slight on your talent."

"Of course it isn't. But it's a sign of what matters more to you - and in Wizarding Britain: talent or blood." She leaned forward, uncaring about the other students who had dropped all pretence of not listening in on her conversation. "Although that would be unfair. You haven't invited Ron Weasley, either - even though he's a pureblood and a better wizard than most of your house. And he's well connected:. the best friend of the Boy Who Lived, his brother is one of Gringotts' best Curse-Breakers - and currently courting Fleur Delacour - two other brothers just opened a successful shop in Diagon Alley, one is a talented Ministry employee, another is a Dragon Handler and his father a department head at the Ministry." She shook her head. "You really shouldn't have listened to the Slytherins, Professor, when you picked your first candidates for your club. Their biases make them poor advisors." She nodded curtly at him and left the room.

She had no time for a bigot who couldn't spot talent if it hexed him in the arse.

And, really - 'one of the most brilliant students'? Pfft!

*****​

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 68: The Recruitment Pitch

Ministry of Magic, Whitehall, London, Wizarding World, April 22nd, 2006

"Recruitment?"

Ron saw Hermione shake her head. She was probably blinking, too, though, with the mirrored shades hiding her eyes, he couldn't tell. But he could tell she had been, ah, lost in a memory again. Not a flashback, technically.

"Indeed." Croaker nodded. The Head Unspeakable was smiling widely. "Your grades would have earned you a place on our list for prospective members of our department in any case - but your actions during the war ensured it."

Now Hermione was very tense. "My actions during the war?" she asked, tilting her head slightly to the side.

"Oh, yes. While we, unfortunately, aren't privy to all the details, it's quite obvious that you were instrumental in dealing with the Dark Lord's Horcruxes."

Hermione's lips vanished into a thin line again.

Croaker seemed to find it amusing. "Oh, rest assured - your friends didn't release the information that the Dark Lord had created Horcruxes. Plural. But for someone like me, who has been investigating the Dark Arts for some considerable time, and given my renewed interest after he took over the Ministry?" He shook his head. "It was plain once I put the pieces together. You and your friends were taking huge risks, but you three were the only ones amongst the known members of Albus's Order whose cell wasn't striking at obvious targets such as Death Eaters, their supporters and crucial infrastructure. Nor were you trying to strike at targets with high propaganda values. So, given neither you nor your friends were stupid, and that you were acting directly on Albus's last orders, there had to be a very compelling reason for that."

Ron suppressed a sigh. Croaker apparently loved demonstrating how smart he was just as much as Dumbledore did.

"I see," Hermione said.

Croaker went on anyway. "So... what could this mysterious reason be? Why, what else than the key to defeating the Dark Lord? The other cells and independent resistance groups focused on the Dark Lord's forces, but, as we all knew, he was the key. And I remembered a discussion I had with Albus, almost twenty years ago. We were speculating about the Dark Lord's supposed invulnerability - the Death Eaters we had captured and interrogated all agreed that he claimed to have conquered death. That, of course, didn't narrow it down - Albus had some very interesting theories - but when coupled with your actions, it was clear that the Dark Lord's invulnerability - or relative immortality, to use another term - was tied to one or more objects."

That was a good deduction. Though Ron didn't fail to notice that Croaker didn't say how long it had taken him to come to this conclusion. Not that it mattered much since it had happened after Voldemort's defeat, anyway.

"How am I doing?" Croaker asked.

"You don't expect me to confirm or deny anything, do you?"

The old wizard laughed again. "Of course not - that would be a mark against you. The Department of Mysteries needs members who can be trusted to keep our secrets. At any cost. Albus claimed it was the name, you know - he said we wouldn't be terribly mysterious if we didn't have an air of mystery thanks to all the secrecy surrounding us."

Ron snorted. It was practical, at least - or as well. "If no one knows who's working for you, they can't kidnap their families to gain leverage."

"Precisely! Though the mystery doesn't hurt." Croaker nodded. "A harmless, minor benefit of being employed by my department, you might say."

"Those who enjoy such a benefit are unlikely to be the kind of people you can trust with your secrets," Hermione replied.

"Oh, you'd be surprised." Croaker smiled. "Then again, we do tend to grow more eccentric as we grow older. That's why I like recruiting serious young wizards and witches with the necessary talent. If we recruited, say, Messrs Fred and George Weasley…"

Ron winced, as did Hermione. "That wouldn't end well, I fear," she commented.

"I concur. Very talented wizards - but they are too fond of attention and approval. They would never work out in our department, where the only approval you are likely to receive is given by your peers."

Hermione nodded. As a quantum physicist, she would be familiar with such a situation, Ron expected. It wasn't as if many people, and certainly not the public, understood advanced physics, much less quantum physics.

"But you're different. You've done everything to avoid the public's attention," Croaker continued. "Some might think that's because you only recently recovered your memories and wand, but I disagree."

Hermione tensed once again. As did Ron.

"No, that might have been true a few months ago, but given that your campaign to abolish Azkaban - which you seem to have accomplished in the traditional way, I note - would only have profited by a media campaign focused on one of the heroes of the war, I think you are one of those people who prefer to let their accomplishments speak for themselves as they continue their work." Croaker nodded. "That's exactly the sort of witch we need here."

So Croaker either knew or had deduced that the donation had come from Hermione. But did he know it had - supposedly - come from Ron?

Hermione smiled. Politely. "You're referring to the fact that I had to make a donation to the Ministry so they would stop torturing prisoners." She scoffed. "Traditionally, it would've been a bribe for the Minister, not a donation for the DMLE's budget. But that only marginally improves the fact that Wizarding Britain is routinely torturing prisoners because, until my donation, supposedly there wasn't any money available for a humane prison."

"The Treasury making policy by controlling the purse strings is also an old muggle tradition, I believe."

Ron couldn't help it; he snorted.

Hermione tilted her head in that manner of hers that told him she was glaring at him. "It's not funny."

"Black humour also is a British muggle tradition," Croaker replied. "Or so I've heard - I'm, unfortunately, not an expert on muggles. None of my colleagues are, actually." He smiled. "Which, I've been told, is also a deficiency in need of being corrected, given the advancements in muggle science in the last century."

"You've got no muggleborns in your department? Or half-bloods?" Hermione sounded both surprised and appalled.

"Muggleborns tended to suffer accidents - as we found out later, Augustus Rookwood had been killing them in the seventies. And after the First Blood War, there were no promising candidates to be found." Croaker looked grim. "The Death Eaters tended to go after talented muggleborns."

"And the half-bloods?" Ron asked. They would, having parents from both worlds, be familiar with both cultures, wouldn't they?

"Well, very few of them were actually born to a mixed marriage - between a muggle and a wizard or witch," Croaker told them.

"Right. I'd almost forgotten how British purebloods defined half-bloods," Hermione said with a snort.

"I don't think the terms will be very important in the future. However, of those among my colleagues who had a muggle parent, none of them are young enough to be familiar with the current state of muggle science." Croaker steepled his hands again before adding: "Unlike you."

"My circumstances are rather unique," Hermione told him. She spoke as if she were discussing the weather, but Ron could tell that she was very tense.

So was Ron himself. What did Croaker know or suspect? Was he aware of her research? She hadn't mentioned that she earned a PhD in quantum physics to anyone outside her close friends, had she?

"Indeed. You've spent years living not only among muggles but as a muggle. And given your intelligence and inclinations, you studied hard, didn't you?"

"Muggle science is a vast field - you're forced to specialise."

"To a degree," Croaker retorted.

"Yes. I'm quite familiar with muggle science, although not at university level," Hermione lied.

"That is still more than anyone else in the department can claim." Croaker nodded again.

"It was also quite a traumatising experience," she went on.

"Worse than the war?" He looked surprised.

"My whole world was shattered," she told him.

"I wondered if I had gone crazy when she showed me magic," Ron added.

"Ah." Croaker rubbed his chin. "I hadn't considered it from that angle. But your unique experiences would also be of interest to wizards specialising in mental magic."

"My mind is my own!" Hermione snapped.

"Of course." The old wizard was all smiles again. "And as an Unspeakable, you'd have the best tutoring in Occlumency to ensure it remains so. You wouldn't have to depend on muggle glasses."

He really wanted to recruit her, Ron realised.

"And my friendship with Harry and Ron wouldn't hurt, either, I suppose?" Hermione sounded more than a little sarcastic.

"Not to mention your fame and reputation - and your recently acquired political clout." Croaker nodded. "However, even if you weren't as famous, or a muggleborn, I would want to recruit you anyway for your talent. We need you."

Hermione nodded. "You have made that clear. However, I'm currently busy with politics, you might say."

"Not just politics, I presume - you wouldn't have requested a meeting with me if that were the case."

"It's an extended part of politics, so to speak," she replied.

"Oh?"

"Yes. Moving the prisoners out of Azkaban won't deal with the Dementors."

Croaker narrowed his eyes a tiny bit. "You have plans for the Dementors, then?"

"I would be irresponsible if I didn't do my best to ensure that they don't pose a threat after Azkaban is finally abolished," Hermione replied.

"Ah." Croaker's smile showed how he took her evasive answer. "That's quite ambitious. And, from a political angle, refreshing. Several rather colourful events in my department's history have originated from a politician's short-sighted proposal."

"Having met Cornelius Fudge, I can imagine that very well," Hermione told him. "So… could we access your files on the Dementors? The public information is somewhat… lacking."

Croaker hesitated a moment. "Information about Dementors is restricted with good reason. They are amongst the most dangerous of magical creatures - and certainly the most feared, at least in Britain."

"Which makes dealing with them even more urgent," Hermione replied. "And to find a solution, I need that information."

"And yet, my department is trusted with keeping potentially dangerous information safe from those who might, accidentally or by design, use it to cause harm to others." Croaker spread his hands. "Our regulations are quite strict - and information about Dementors certainly qualifies, especially after the Dark Lord managed to subvert them during the war."

"I'm very familiar with the atrocities those monsters committed," Hermione told him. "Which is one of the reasons I want to ensure they can no longer threaten Britain or any other country."

"Hmm." Croaker rubbed his chin again. Ron couldn't tell if the gesture was genuine or faked. "Access to restricted information would be much easier for a member of my department - and, barring urgent problems, we are generally free to pursue projects that catch our fancy."

"You don't really expect me to join a department for the sole reason of gaining access to restricted information, do you?" Hermione snorted. "If you do, you might have listened to the wrong sources - contrary to certain rumours at Hogwarts, I am not willing to do anything for books."

"Well, it was worth a try," Croaker replied, chuckling. "And I'm also aware that the Minister could order us to reveal the information to you. Although I believe that you would have a bit of a hard time convincing him without going into details about your own plans."

Hermione didn't reply to that statement, which was answer enough.

"However, it's also my duty to examine such requests - or orders - in case the Minister might be about to make a grave mistake," the old wizard went on. "While Minister Shacklebolt has my full trust, the rule was implemented as a safeguard against people such as some of his predecessors."

"Fudge," Hermione said, her voice dripping with scorn.

"Oh, he was more cautious than people generally assume - he never made any such requests. Although some speculate that he might not have been aware of his power to do so, in the first place." Croaker chuckled. "No, I was talking about Minister Scrimgeour."

"Ah." Hermione drew a sharp breath. "I suppose he wanted some questionable means to fight the Death Eaters."

"Indeed. While he wasn't aware of what exactly we keep in our vaults, he assumed, correctly, that the contents included quite powerful works of the Dark Arts and demanded a full accounting." Croaker smiled again. "He was quite put off when I refused to heed his demands."

Hermione frowned. "And after you had fled, and the Minister, as well as yourself, had been replaced by followers of Voldemort, he had access to one of the largest collections of the Dark Arts."

"I took steps to prevent that," Croaker replied.

"So the ritual Voldemort conducted in Azkaban on October 1st, 1997 wasn't a result of him rifling through your department's vaults?" Hermione leaned forward.

"You are remarkably well informed." The old wizard wasn't smiling any more. "I don't suppose you witnessed it?"

"No. But I heard an eyewitness's account," Hermione replied.

"I see." Croaker nodded, though Ron wondered if he actually suspected the truth, or was merely bluffing or saving face. "Then you are aware of why our rules are needed."

"I'm aware that they failed before," Hermione told him. "But I'm not asking you through the Minister. I'm asking you directly."

"Yet, should I refuse, you will go through the Minister, won't you?"

"That depends on what alternatives present themselves."

Croaker chuckled again. "You'd find my department a far harder target than Gringotts."

"Perhaps. But that doesn't mean it would be impossible to acquire the information by other means - or from other sources." Hermione inclined her head. "As with most security, the human factor is often its greatest weakness."

"We might be at an impasse, then," Croaker said.

"What about a trade?" Ron interjected.

"I'm not joining the department for information," Hermione said.

"I'm not proposing that." Nor that she told the old wizard about her real research. "But something you could live with...? Perhaps information the department doesn't have access to?"

"Like Dumbledore's library? Copies?" Croaker sounded eager. And he hadn't called it 'Alubs's library', Ron noted.

"He bade me keep it safe from those who might abuse the knowledge within its tomes," Hermione replied. It sounded like she was quoting her Dumbledore. "As you explained before, who knows what your successors will do with it?"

"We're still at an impasse, then."

"What about a treatise covering various muggle sciences?" Ron proposed.

"We can get that by walking into any decent bookshop in London," Croaker replied.

Damn. Ron managed not to grin. Of course the old wizard would have seen through that.

"That means you don't need me as a muggle expert, either," Hermione commented.

"Oh, I don't want you to teach us about muggles - I want you because I think you'd do great things combining muggle science and magic."

Ron barely managed to avoid flinching in response.

"Muggle sciences, as I've pointed out before, covers a very wide range of areas," Hermione replied. "Pretty much everything could be useful for developing new spells, though I'd hesitate to say they would be groundbreaking. Physical effects can be duplicated by spells - or those effects can be enhanced, but that is less research and more clever use of existing spells. And, in a way, you're already using muggle science - the scientific method."

Croaker laughed. "Technically, you are correct, though spellcrafting is an art, so it's more akin to trial and error. However, I'm certain that there are also muggle theories that woulöd, combined with magic, have the potential to change the magical world. At the very least, they could serve as an inspiration."

"That sounds rather vague," Ron pointed out.

"Indeed - but only because the field is so wide, so to speak. If I had a more detailed example, I would be working on it, trust me."

"That is an interesting discussion, but we were talking about your information about Dementors, and what you'd require in exchange for access to your lore," Hermione said.

"Well, I was working up to that." Croaker smiled again. "I want you on a single project in exchange."

"That's far too vague. Some research projects can take years to complete - if they are ever completed," she retorted.

"I wouldn't assign you to a project, you'd be able to pick your own. All I'm asking is that it incorporates muggle sciences in some way."

"That condition would be met if I merely enhanced a simple conjuration with some muggle material science," Hermione pointed out.

"I'm aware of that. But unless I have completely misjudged you, you wouldn't choose such an obvious way to adhere to the letter of a deal while breaking its spirit. Not as long as the deal was made in good faith and I'm upholding my part of it."

Well, he had Hermione there. Judging by her frown, she also knew it. "Technically, these shades we use could serve as inspiration for a spell that protects against Legilimency. Various variants, even - from a simple conjuration of such a shade to a more sophisticated spell that covers your eyes with a thin field that mimics these shades. Perhaps with a copy of your eyes' appearance on it."

"See? You wouldn't even need to spend a lot of time on such a project. I'm sure you have more ideas like that one."

"So you're offering Hermione a trial membership in your department, hoping she'll enjoy it and stay on." Ron chuckled. "You could claim you're using muggle advertising techniques."

Croaker's answering smile made Ron think that the old wizard was downplaying the lack of muggle knowledge amongst his team by a significant margin.

"And I'm sure you have a few suggestions in mind already - to help me decide and focus on something from such a vast range of possible projects," Hermione added,

"Indeed, I have some possible projects in mind - although, should you accept such a deal, you would be perfectly free to reject my suggestions."

Ron snorted. The man didn't seem to think that that outcome would be likely.

Hermione's frown deepened. "You're very confident that I'll accept your deal."

"I am, indeed," Croaker replied. "You remind me of a great many Unspeakables I've recruited."

"I wasn't aware the department was that large," Ron interjected. "Unless you have a high rate of attrition."

The old wizard laughed again. "Oh, I've been the Department Head for decades - and I was an Unspeakable for decades before that. We wizards do tend to live longer lives than muggles."

It sounded more than a little condescending to Ron, although the man hid his views well. "I'm aware of that," Ron replied, trying not to sound defensive. That was, after all, a problem he and Hermione hadn't talked about so far. One of a few. "But neither do you have a muggle retirement age."

"We do retire, though - and not because we move to the permanent damage ward in St. Mungo's," Croaker told him. "And as I said - the wars have taken a toll on us all." He cleared his throat and turned to Hermione. "But we were talking about why I'm so confident that you will agree to my proposal. You're brilliant, but you're a muggleborn - you don't have the backing of an old rich pureblood family. You don't have the resources to do the research you want to do."

"My best friends have some influence in the Ministry," she retorted.

"But the Ministry isn't exactly affluent. They wouldn't be able to finance you - and if they did, you wouldn't have the freedom to do your research as you would wish. Others would try to use you to attack your friends, claiming nepotism and corruption. You would have to justify your work regularly."

"The Department of Mysteries is part of the Ministry as well, and subject to the same financial constraints," Ron pointed out.

"Not quite the same. Given our essential work, our budget has been secure for centuries. And it means we have a generous research budget." The old wizard grinned. "You would have to defend your share against your colleagues, but I don't doubt that you'll prevail there."

"I managed to scrounge up enough money to abolish Azkaban," Hermione told him.

"Thanks to Mr Weasley's inheritance," Croaker countered. He tilted his head towards Ron. "And I doubt that you have any more wealthy elderly relatives who might conveniently die to finance your work."

"I hope you aren't insinuating that I murdered my family," Ron snapped.

"Perish the thought - although some of the enemies of your extended family will do so without a doubt!"

"You've made your point," Hermione said. "But you haven't said what projects you would suggest."

Croaker's smile looked like a twin of Dumbledore's when the old spymaster got his way.

"Transfiguration is the most obvious. By using magic, it should be possible to achieve materials that muggles have only theorised so far. Magical alloys that would make Goblin steel look pitiful."

Or superconductors that work at room temperature, Ron thought. Combined with the Duplication Charm… Dumbledore would be salivating at the thought. He blinked. Dumbledore was probably already planning that.

"But the materials would be vulnerable to being untransfigured," Hermione said.

"No more vulnerable than unaltered materials are to being transfigured," Croaker replied. "You can protect against either, with the right spells."

Hermione nodded, almost reluctantly. "And the other suggestions?"

"Alchemy would benefit from the same muggle knowledge - you know, some said, although this was before Dumbledore advanced the field by himself, that alchemy was transfiguration without a wand. While it's not exactly true - the core principles are completely different - there are still a slew of similarities in the effects and results."

"Obviously. But I never studied Alchemy."

"Indeed. Another suggestion would be quantum physics. I don't know much about it, to be honest, but it is almost an utterly different field, with so many ramifications…"

"Nothing concrete, though," Hermione said. "I agree that there's certainly potential, but it seems too vague for a research project. At least not for a project that's supposed to have a foreseeable completion date."

"That is a very good point," Croaker conceded. "Although that only applies to the current suggestions - it would be different for a long-term research project."

"It seems your suggestions boil down to transfiguration using muggle material science," Hermione told him. "Since I haven't studied Alchemy and quantum physics is far too vague for a concrete project."

"Something you were aware of," Ron added. The old wizard had investigated Hermione, after all, and would be aware of her school records.

"Indeed. It is the most practical proposal by far, and fairly obvious for someone with your background."

Hermione nodded, although a little curtly. "And what if I already have a project of my own?"

"The destruction of the Dementors?" Croaker smiled again. "It's a fairly obvious project, and a quite popular one, at least historically. Though I have to admit that most who researched means to destroy Dementors did so because of the challenge it posed, rather than for moral reasons."

"I can imagine," Hermione said.

The Unspeakables do sound like mad scientists, Ron silently agreed. Or would that be mad dark wizards?

"Although I would wonder where the link to muggle science would be in that project. The soul isn't a subject of muggle research. I assume you are planning to build upon your research regarding the destruction of Horcruxes."

"Yes," Hermione replied. "And I suspect that that avenue has already been explored - hence my interest in your research." She continued before Croaker could say anything: "But I think I need some time to consider your offer before I can give you my answer."

"By all means, take your time - Azkaban won't vanish from one day to the next."

Croaker was still smiling like Dumbledore, Ron noted. And Ron still wanted to hit him.

"Would you like a tour of the department? Only of the non-confidential parts, of course."

"That would be very generous," Hermione replied.

*****​

The tour wasn't as impressive as Ron had hoped. The rotating room was interesting but seemed more like a gimmick and the vaults were closed to them, as were most laboratories. The Hall of Prophecies looked suitably mysterious, but apart from hundreds, maybe thousands, of dimly glowing orbs filling rows upon rows of wooden shelves, there wasn't much to see. And they weren't allowed to touch the orbs. And the individual offices… they were filled with knick-knacks and books, and enough parchment to cover the building, but they were, ultimately, offices.

"And this is Archibald Smith," Croaker said. "Archie, this is Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley - the other Ronald Weasley." Ron clearly heard 'the muggle Weasley' without Croaker having to say it out loud.

"Hello," Ron said, smiling, in unison with Hermione.

Smith nodded at him, then turned his attention to Hermione. "It's a pleasure." He was a young wizard - closer to thirty than to forty, Ron guessed, though that was just based upon his appearance. Full, blond hair that reached his shoulders, no wrinkles, blue eyes and a light stubble that kept him from looking too perfect.

Ron hated him on sight.

"Thank you," Hermione replied.

"Archie's been with the department for ten years," Croaker added.

"Not counting that unfortunate episode seven years ago," Smith said, smiling at her.

Ron managed not to smile. Archie had just made a major mistake - or faux-pas. Sirius had taught Ron that you didn't play down a war. Not when talking to a veteran.

And, as expected, Hermione's smile slipped from friendly to polite. "You mean Voldemort's regime."

"Yes, of course," Smith told her. "So, you're planning to join us? We could use new blood - and fresh perspectives."

"I'm considering it. Mr Croaker is quite convincing."

"Oh, yes." Smith laughed, as did the old wizard in question. "If you accept his offer, I guarantee that you won't regret it - this is the best department for anyone with your talents. We do ground-breaking research here. And you won't find the Ministry or Wizengamot meddling with us, either."

"The department technically is part of the Ministry, isn't it?" Ron pointed out, just to be a little contrary.

"It is," Croaker admitted. "But like every department, we tend to see ourselves as special."

"And apart from the rest of the Ministry," Hermione said.

"Of course," Smith agreed. "We're the only ones who fully understand what we're doing - and why."

"So I've heard," Hermione said. Her smile was stuck on polite.

Which, in Ron's experience, meant she was feeling anything but polite.

*****​

Forest of Dean, Gloucestershire, Britain, Wizarding World, April 22nd, 2006

Ron pulled off his shades and took a deep breath as soon as they appeared in the now very familiar clearing in the forest. The air was still a little cold, but it was fresh. Clean. After their visit, he needed it. "Well… Croaker certainly tried his best," he said after a moment. And after Hermione had recast a privacy charm. She had cast one already at their first stop after leaving the Ministry, somewhere in Devon, but better safe than sorry.

Hermione removed her own shades as well and scoffed. "If that was his best… Holding their information about Dementors hostage to force me to work for him! He's risking more atrocities being committed by the Dementors just so he can achieve his personal goals! That's morally bankrupt!"

Ron nodded in agreement but didn't comment. She was working herself into a rant.

"And he tried to alienate me from my friends! As if I wouldn't be able to do research unless I joined the Department of Mysteries! As if I were unable to do any research unless I had his department's backing or a rich, pureblood patron! The arrogance!"

It might not be arrogance, but simply a realistic view of the situation in Wizarding Britain, Ron thought. Although… He cocked his head. "Do you think he could sabotage your research?"

Hermione blinked, then scowled. "I bet he would try it. He could put pressure on anyone who wants to fund me - not that I'd have too many options, anyway. Harry would probably fund me, but I don't want to rob him of more of his money - he already spent a lot on the war and the rebuilding."

"Invested or donated?" Ron asked.

She snorted and looked at him with her head tilted to one side. "What do you think?"

He sighed. Like his own Harry, then.

"So, I'd have to ask someone else. And whoever would fund me would expect more information about my research. And progress reports. Croaker would probably know what I'm doing within a day. A week, tops." She shook her head. "He could even cut off muggle financing, through various means."

"That seems to be a rather drastic response," Ron pointed out.

She sighed. "Yes. But I wouldn't put it past him. He's such a manipulative old man!"

"Like another we know?" Ron raised his eyebrows and grinned at her.

She scowled, obviously not seeing the humour. "Yes, I know."

"So… you aren't tempted to don a hooded cloak and start creating abominations in the cellars of the Ministry?" He was joking. Mostly. And he wasn't bringing up Archie. A wizarding honeypot - now he really had seen everything.

She snorted. "I'm not going to make a deal with a second Dumbledore who wants to recruit and control me."

"And Dumbledore might object to it." Ron reminded her that she had made a similar deal already.

"Or he would use it to launch a spy mission into the department," Hermione replied.

He nodded. That sounded like Dumbledore, alright. "Oh, yes." He couldn't help thinking that it would be fun, though. Dumbledore versus Croaker...

"Anyway, I might not be able to get the information I wanted, but Croaker inadvertently gave me an idea. If it pays out, I won't have to rely on soul magic to destroy the Dementors." She smiled broadly, showing all her teeth.

"You've thought about what he suggested before, right? Combining material science and magic?"

"Of course! All the time, when I lacked a wand! You can't imagine how frustrating it was. But now… the things I can do now…" She raised her wand and smiled at it.

"Once you have the time to spend on such research." He smiled at her - they were still buried in work.

She slumped a little and frowned at him. "Yes, once I have the time for another project," she admitted with a pout. "But at least I only have two urgent tasks left, now."

"'We'," he corrected her. He might not be a wizard, but he wasn't dead weight.

She smiled and stepped closer to him. "Yes. Sorry. I'm still..."

"You're not alone any more," he told her before he reached out and hugged her.

"I know," she replied, sighing.

He ran his hand through her hair, then pulled her close again.

They remained like that for a few minutes, holding each other, surrounded by the forest. Just the two of them.

Ron wished, for a second only, but he did, that this moment would last forever.

*****​

Black Lake, Scotland, April 22nd, 2006

By the time they reached the portal and entered the lab, Hermione had calmed down. Somewhat, at least.

She didn't rip into her wizarding friends as soon as she spotted them, at least, but she was obviously not happy, either. And not because they were talking to Dumbledore in the lounge, Ron was sure.

"Hello, Dr Granger. How did your meeting with Mr Croaker go?" Dumbledore asked.

"You look like someone burned all your books. I guess the meeting didn't go well," wizarding Ron cut in before Hermione could reply.

That earned him a glare. "Mr Croaker thinks that I should work for him in exchange for the department's classified information about Dementors," Hermione said.

"Ah." Wizarding Harry nodded.

"A quite sensible goal, if I do say so myself," Dumbledore added. "I expected the offer, actually."

Hermione huffed but didn't challenge the implied claim. Instead, she turned towards her friends. "And it's all your fault."

"What?" Both wizards looked surprised.

"He claims to have extensively researched my career at Hogwarts - and during the war, which, unlike my grades at Hogwarts, few people know about." She narrowed her eyes at them.

"We wanted people to know how much you did, after… you know," wizarding Harry said.

"So I've gathered," she replied. In any case, Mr Croaker has quite a high opinion of me - or so he says, at least. High enough to try and entice me to become an Unspeakable by almost any means," she explained.

Ron's counterpart frowned. "And that's a bad thing?"

"I think he might go further than just using incentives for joining," Hermione told him.

"What?" Wizarding Ron's shook his head. "That's not right. It's stupid, too - you don't want people you forced to join with access to the vaults there."

"Yes," his friend agreed. "We can set him straight. Shacklebolt won't be pleased about this."

"No, no - don't do anything!" Hermione shook her head. "He thinks I'm seriously considering his offer. As long as that's the case, he won't do anything else."

"Are you afraid he'll try something else?" wizarding Harry asked.

"I don't know," Hermione replied. "But he seems convinced that the only way I could do serious research is by joining his department. If I reject his offer, he might try to find out whether or not I've got other resources."

"He doesn't know about the portal, does he?" Ron's counterpart asked.

"I don't think so. Otherwise he would have made a stronger case," Hermione told him.

"Indeed. I believe that we would have seen action here, should Mr Croaker have concrete suspicions. He would know how important - and dangerous - the portal is. And he would move to secure it, citing his department's mandate." Dumbledore sounded quite confident for an analysis made without having met the man.

"You've discussed him," Hermione said rather than asked.

"We talked while we waited for your return," the old spymaster admitted with a sly smile. "And I think we all agree that he's a potential threat to all of us."

The two wizards nodded, looking a little sheepish. Hermione nodded as well, though reluctantly, or so Ron thought.

He agreed as well, of course. As much as he was uncomfortable with Dumbledore's influence and power, he would rather not have to deal with another manipulative old man cut from the same cloth. Just dealing with Dumbledore was difficult enough - not least because the man was too damn subtle.

"But how can we deal with him? You can't stall him forever," wizarding Harry pointed out.

"I don't have to stall him forever. Just long enough to finish my current projects," Hermione retorted. "And that means that we need to acquire a Dementor."

"So… we're going to dig out our old plans?" wizarding Ron asked.

Hermione nodded. "And this time, we'll execute them."

*****​

"I've been thinking about Azkaban," she said as they finished their meal in their tent.

"Why?" Ron replied. "It's horrible, but we can't do anything about it, and dwelling on it won't do anything but make you feel bad. Worse, I mean. Besides, the Dark Lord already did his.. ritual."

She glanced at Harry, whose lips formed a thin line in his face. He was the only one among them - probably the only one with the obvious exception of Voldemort - who had seen what the Dark Lord had done on the island. He hadn't gone into details - and, to her shame, she had pressed him on it, citing the need to know more - but Ron and herself knew enough to guess how horrible it must have been.

Her friend shook his head and lied. "I'm fine."

"Right, mate." Ron looked relieved. "Anyway - he's already killed most of the prisoners, hasn't he?"

"Most, not all," she told him. "There are still dozens of prisoners in Azkaban."

"Most of them are regular criminals," Ron replied.

"They don't deserve to be sacrificed for the Dark Lord, either," she retorted.

"Of course not," Ron admitted. "But even if we could do something about them, we need to focus on finding the last of the Horcruxes."

"And Azkaban could be a great lead. It might even harbour a Horcrux," she pointed out.

Ron shook his head. "I don't think the Dark Lord would risk leaving a piece of his soul next to soul-eating monsters."

She rolled her eyes. "I told you, there's no evidence whatsoever that Dementors can destroy a Horcrux."

"That doesn't mean they can't do it, though." He grinned, and she clenched her teeth. She hated it when he used her own words - or quotes - against her. "And even if they can't," he went on, "that doesn't mean the Dark Lord would know - or take the risk. It's just… you don't store cheese next to the rat cage." He grinned, briefly. "And, as I said - we can't do anything."

"That's not true," she told him. "All we need is a boat or ship, good charts, a GPS and a good Curse-Breaker to get through Azkaban's outer wards."

Her two friends exchanged a glance. She glared at them. It didn't keep Ron from saying: "As I said: We can't do anything. The only good Curse-Breaker we know is Bill, and he's not available."

She clenched her teeth again.

*****​

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 69: The Ferry

Black Lake, Scotland, April 22nd, 2006

"Yes," Hermione repeated herself. "We'll sneak into Azkaban. We've already done part of it - we know the coordinates of the island."

"GPS cut out at a certain place when we reached the island in the ferry," Ron explained.

"Ah. And now you're planning to take a boat there? With a Curse-Breaker?" wizarding Harry asked.

"I thought we wanted to wait until the prison was abandoned - so we could take our time dealing with the wards without anyone caring about it," Ron's counterpart said.

"Croaker won't forget my request, and I can't stall him until the Ministry withdraws from Azkaban," Hermione explained. "Besides, they'll leave a garrison to keep an eye on the Dementors anyway - otherwise, every dark wizard would at least consider recruiting the Dementors. Which is another reason we need to destroy them - they won't station the most competent wizards and witches there."

"Of course not - that's Hit-Wizard work, after all," wizarding Ron said, chuckling.

Hermione sighed. "Leaving the Auror-Hit-Wizard rivalry aside, I'm aware that waiting until the Ministry has abandoned the prison would have made things easier."

"With our luck? We would've stumbled on a take-over by some dark wizards. Probably some leftover Storm Wizards of Grindelwald's," Ron's counterpart said. "Our Grindelwald."

"Of course." Dumbledore grinned as he nodded - as if he'd tease his partner about this soon. Which he probably would, in Ron's opinion.

Hermione, though, didn't see the humour. Or didn't want to see it. "Back on topic. Sailing up to the islands with a boat of our own is one possibility," she said. "We could also use the ferry - it has to be enchanted to pass through the wards that keep other ships away."

"You want to steal the ferry?" Wizarding Harry sounded surprised. "That's guarded almost as well as the island itself."

"Not exactly steal it - I fear its absence would be noticed quickly. But study it to copy the enchantments on it that allow it to pass to the island?" Hermione shrugged. "That might be possible."

"I'm not sure Bill could do it - and he's one of the best Curse-Breakers in Britain," wizarding Ron said.

"We'll have to ask him," Hermione said.

"Well, if we time it right, we could replace the ferry with a copy," Ron suggested. "They only need it to transfer prisoners, visitors and staff. That's not exactly a packed schedule, isn't it?"

"Good idea!" his counterpart agreed.

"The number of visitors has increased lately, what with people preparing to abandon the island," wizarding Harry told them. "So it's not as if it's only used every two weeks, as before."

"But from what we've heard, the conditions on the island are so deplorable that few will venture there voluntarily," Dumbledore pointed out. "It shouldn't be too hard to ensure a period of a week without anyone needing to use the ferry."

Ron looked at wizarding Harry and his counterpart. That would be up to them.

"We could do that - probably," wizarding Ron said. "But we'll have to be careful to avoid arousing suspicion - especially if Croaker's lot are keeping an eye on the island. Percy said that what influence the Unspeakables had lost after the war, what with them conducting all those… atrocities, they've since recovered under Croaker."

"Then, perhaps, we should endeavour to keep Mr Croaker's attention on other matters," Dumbledore suggested.

"Easier said than done - he's got an entire department he can order around," wizarding Harry retorted.

Hermione snorted, surprising her friends. "If the Unspeakables are anything like my old colleagues at Imperial College - and, from what I've seen, they aren't too different - then he would have better luck herding cats without magic than having them help recruit a potential rival to the department. After all, the budget of the Unspeakables might be in no danger of being cut, but it's still not limitless. Whatever one member gets to spend could've been used by another instead."

"Well, Mr Smith seemed quite enthusiastic," Ron pointed out.

"For his own selfish reasons, no doubt," Hermione replied. "He probably hoped I would end up as his assistant."

And his lover, Ron silently added. But he nodded.

"Doubtless, Mr Croaker will have the help of some of his colleagues, for a variety of reasons. But not the entire department." Dumbledore smiled. "Disagreements over the department budget can be very violent - literally, in some cases."

"And how do you plan to distract Croaker and his Unspeakables?" wizarding Harry asked with slightly narrowed eyes.

Dumbledore smiled. "I've got a few ideas. Although we will need to talk with the Lunas."

Oh no.

*****​

Black Lake, Scotland, April 23rd, 2006

"The Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures handles magical creatures - or abuses them in many cases," wizarding Luna said with a frown. "So I don't think I could condone using our poor endangered creatures as a distraction. And they are quite territorial. The department, I mean. They won't ask for help - such as from Daddy or myself - unless under duress, even though most of them are clearly not competent at handling animals, and the others are in the pockets of various poachers. And if the Unspeakables were to become involved - openly, I mean; they already run the Ministry anyway, just look at the budget - they would be likely to simply kill any creatures in the area - or capture them and use them as sacrifices for their experimental rituals." She shook her head and glared at them. "No, you need to find another way to distract the Unspeakables."

Ron almost shook his head. The parallels between wizarding Luna and Luna were obvious - although by now they would be influencing each other as well.

Dumbledore, though, was unfazed by wizarding Luna's apparent ire. "My dear, I wasn't planning on endangering any creatures - I wanted your help to create a fake incident that would entice the Unspeakables to get involved from the start. Something urgent and mysterious that defies conventional logic."

That fits Luna - both Lunas - perfectly, Ron thought.

"You'd ask us to fake the existence of a magical creature?" Wizarding Luna sounded shocked.

"No, no," Dumbledore assured her - and Ron couldn't tell if the old man had indeed planned exactly that or not. "Just a mystery using some exotic creatures that the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures wouldn't know about, which would make the Unspeakables involve themselves. I've heard that they do love mysteries."

"Oh." Wizarding Luna blinked. "I guess that would be alright."

"It would be a prank against the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures," Luna added with a smile. "Showing them up and exposing their incompetence!"

"Exactly," Dumbledore agreed.

"We can do that, yes," wizarding Luna told him. "We can ask Fred and George for help."

"Both Freds and Georges." Luna smiled. "I'm sure we can come up with something no one has ever thought of - or even imagined!"

Ron almost felt pity for the department. Both departments.

*****​

"Shouldn't we keep an eye on them?" Ron asked the others after the Lunas had left - presumably to gather the two sets of twins.

"Are you volunteering?" his counterpart asked, raising his eyebrows.

Ron almost said that he wasn't a wizard, but that would've felt like… both a cop-out and an admission that he was useless.

Before he could agree, though, Hermione spoke up: "The Lunas promised to run whatever they come up with past us before implementing it. I trust them."

"I don't trust my brothers - or their counterparts," Ron told her. He knew his brothers, after all.

"The twins are a terror."

"Would they go behind the Lunas' backs?" Hermione asked.

That was a good point, Ron had to admit. "I guess not." At least his brothers had a soft spot for Luna.

"No, they wouldn't. Mum would go ballistic," his counterpart added.

That was true as well. Ron still had some misgivings. "Well, that escalated quickly, anyway."

"Sometimes, you have to roll the dice and deal with the result," Dumbledore said. "And as far as distractions go, bigger is usually better - though I'm very much aware that this is a delicate mission."

"Anyway, now we need to talk to Bill about this," wizarding Ron said. "And Fleur, of course."

Wizarding Harry nodded. "She'd never forgive us if we dragged Bill to Azkaban without telling her."

Hermione nodded, wincing a little.

"Something from the war?" Ron asked.

"Yes. A mix-up in communications," she said. "Fleur got left at home for a mission. It was supposed to be an easy one."

Ron winced. He could imagine how that had gone down.

"Well, no one died," wizarding Ron said. "And according to Bill, the most dangerous part was when the team returned to base - Fleur was so angry, she set the safe house on fire by accident."

"At least, that's what she says happened," wizarding Harry said. "I have my doubts."

"But you won't mention them." His friend grinned.

"Would you?"

"Do I look like I'm fireproof?"

The whole exchange had the feel of an old family joke. And those jokes were never funny to an outsider. "So Fleur will want to come along, then," Ron said.

"Or she'll forbid Bill to come." Wizarding Ron shrugged. "Hard to say with her."

"Then we should go and ask them both so we know where we stand," Hermione said. "And whether or not we need to recruit another Curse-Breaker."

"Let's go, then," wizarding Harry told them. "I don't want to be late for dinner, either."

"You married my sister, mate - that's on you."

Both laughed. Ron would've laughed as well - he knew his own sister - but Hermione didn't find it funny, so he only grinned.

*****​

Shell Cottage, Outskirts of Tinworth, Cornwall, Britain, Wizarding World, April 23rd, 2006

For a counterpart of Bill, the cottage looked downright rustic, Ron thought as they walked towards the door. Great location - directly on the beach - but it looked old enough to have been built by Romans. Well, not quite, but close enough to make no difference. And small enough to feel crowded for even a family of three.

Of course, this was a wizarding home, so it was likely bigger on the inside. Still, Ron's brother wouldn't have been caught dead in the house - unless he was hosting a client who liked old cottages.

"Uncle Ron! Hermione!" A blonde little girl dashed out of the shed next to the house. "You're visiting!" Then she drew to a stop in front of them, blinking. "You're not uncle Ron. You're Not-Uncle-Ron."

"Yes," he confirmed. "How did you figure that out?"

"You dress funny!"

"Ouch!" Ron mimed getting shot in the heart. "I'll have you know that this is the height of muggle fashion." He gestured at his sweater, shirt and trousers.

"Somewhere, it probably is," Hermione added, smiling at the girl. "Hello, Victoire. How are you doing?"

"I'm great! I almost managed to get feathers!"

"Feathers?" Ron asked. Oh. She probably wasn't talking about gathering feathers lost by birds. She was talking about transforming.

"Already?" Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Aren't you a little young for that?"

"Daddy says I'm precautious!"

"That's precocious," Hermione corrected her. "And it's a good thing!"

"I know! I'm going to fly before Hogwarts!"

Ron smiled as well. "And without a broom, hm?"

"Yes! And with a broom, too!"

The window next to the door opened, which caught his attention - Fleur stood there. "Victoire! Don't bother our guests!"

"She's not bothering us," Ron replied.

"I'm not!" Victoire yelled at the same time. "See? Not-Uncle-Ron said the same thing, Maman!"

"Victoire." Fleur shook her head

"I just told them about my transformation." Victoire pronounced the word very carefully. "I almost got feathers - my skin was all tingly!" Her beaming smile would've made Ron's mum forgive her accidentally setting the house on fire.

But Fleur wasn't moved. The watch frowned at her daughter. "What did I say about trying to transform without me watching?"

The little witch froze. "Uh…" She grimaced.

"Go to your room! We'll discuss this later!"

"But Maman!"

"No 'but'! Go to your room!"

"Fine!"

As the little girl stalked off with a deep scowl on her face, Fleur smiled at Ron and Hermione. "Come in! Bill's visiting Arthur and Molly, but he should be back soon."

"That almost felt like home," Ron said as they entered the cottage - which was far bigger on the inside. "Just that we had two boys who were up to no good."

"I would point out that the twins didn't have magic - but I've met Fred and George," Hermione said.

"Hermione! Ronald! Bienvenue à notre maison!" Fleur beamed at them, and, for a brief moment, Ron was distracted by her sheer beauty. Veela were… well, something.

But he recovered. "Thank you."

"Merci," Hermione added. Was she a little terse? Ron couldn't tell.

"Welcome!" Victoire yelled from the floor above them.

"Victoire! Go to your room!"

"But Maman!"

Ron chuckled. "It looks like she takes after Bill." At least if Bill's counterpart was anything like Ron's brother.

Fleur didn't find his comment funny, judging by her scowl. "She's impossible. But come, please sit down!"

"I think most of the Weasleys were just like her as kids," Hermione said with a faint smile as she sat down on the couch, with Ron following suit. "And the other children certainly seemed to be as lively."

Fleur sighed. "Oh, yes. Family gatherings would be a catastrophe if there weren't more adults than children."

"That will make birthdays rather weird," Ron said.

"Not as weird as leaving the kids to themselves," Fleur retorted. "We made that mistake once. Never again." She sighed again. "They managed to work each other up…"

"Still do, I think - they've just become a little more subtle," Hermione said.

Fleur swished her wand and a tea service and a plate of pastries flew towards the low table and set down softly. Without spilling a drop, as far as Ron could tell - and even if it had, a single spell would clean it up.

"So, what brings you to our home?" Fleur asked once everyone had tea and pain au chocolat.

"Oh, pain au chocolat!"

"Not for you, Victoire!" Fleur glared at her daughter.

"But…" Victoire, perched at the top of the stairs, sniffled as she looked at the tea party.

"Do you want to go to bed without dinner?"

"If I can have pain au chocolat?"

"To your room!" She shook her head again, brushing a stray lock behind her ear. "I don't know how my soeur can raise two of them."

"Probably without having to take the Weasleys into account," Ron replied with a grin.

"I concur." Hermione smiled as well. "You can blame Bill."

"I will!" Fleur laughed. "But enough of my parenting troubles. What brings you to our humble home?"

Ron thought it was anything but humble - from what he could see, the interior put the villas of various rock stars to shame.

"We're here because of Bill actually," Hermione said - after casting a privacy charm. "We want to hire his services."

"To break into Azkaban," Fleur said with a frown.

Hermione blinked. "Did Harry and Ron talk to you already?"

So much for operational security, Ron thought.

Fleur rolled her eyes. "Vraiment! It's obvious, isn't it? You got the gold to abolish the prison, then you visited it and now you need Bill? And you cast a privacy charm? You don't need to be Poirot to know what you're doing." She smiled. "We know you."

"I could want Bill for an unrelated task," Hermione defended herself.

"You could. But you don't."

"No, I don't." Hermione sighed. "Yes, we need to capture a Dementor."

"And we need to do so without anyone noticing, since, apparently, everyone will suspect us if anything happens," Ron added with a frown.

"Most of the Ministry are dumb," Fleur told them. "And many of the rest wouldn't dare suggest that the famous Hermione would do anything illegal."

Ron wondered, privately, if Fleur was jealous of Hermione's fame. He couldn't tell.

Hermione pressed her lips together. "That's another problem with the Ministry," she said. "And it's not my fault."

"Of course not," Fleur agreed.

"And there are many who would jump at the chance to frame me."

"Technically, it's not framing if you actually did the deed," Ron pointed out.

She frowned at him with narrowed eyes, then huffed - he was correct, after all. "They won't have any proof."

Ron snorted. "That doesn't really matter." Certainly not in Wizarding Britain, according to what he had seen and heard.

Fleur snorted. "You're right. It's all politics." She sneered in what Ron thought of as a very French way. Unlike Damien, her sneer made her look beautiful rather than ugly. "A number of the Wizengamot don't like Veela, either."

"Mostly the witches?" Ron joked.

Fleur laughed at that, but it sounded slightly forced. "That too - some witches don't understand that I'm happily married and that I wouldn't be interested in their partners even if I were single. It's all those stupid novels - the heroine's rival is almost always a Veela. And a French Veela, usually."

"Well, blaming the French is a British tradition," Ron pointed out. "And French women have a reputation for being beautiful, seductive and passionate," he added with a grin.

"If we could move back to the topic of Azkaban? Discussing prejudices is fascinating, but our problem is slightly urgent." Hermione sounded rather annoyed, Ron noted.

"Bien sûr," Fleur replied with a wide smile. "You want to hire Bill to crack the wards of Azkaban."

"We don't have to crack the protections," Hermione protested. "We just need to be able to slip through. Copying the enchantments on the ferry would work, for example - and he wouldn't even have to come with us to the island."

Of course, having a competent Curse-Breaker with them would be better, in Ron's opinion. He didn't have to be an expert on wards or curses to know that.

"You think Bill would let you go to Azkaban without coming along? He'd never forgive himself if something happened to you because he made a mistake."

That sounded like Bill, yes. If Bill were a wizard risking his life breaking ancient curses, instead of risking fortunes to make more money. And paying off Mum and Dad's mortgage.

Hermione, of course, didn't see it that way. "We could hire another Curse-Breaker."

"Really? And trust them to keep quiet?" Fleur scoffed again. "The sort of Curse-Breaker who would do something illegal isn't the sort of Curse-Breaker you want to hire." Shaking her head, she went on: "And planning to obliviate them after the fact only works in novels."

There went plan B.

"So it's Bill or no one." Hermione sounded resigned.

"And me, of course."

"You can't both risk your lives!" Hermione shook her head.

"We cannot not risk our lives together," Fleur retorted.

"But…"

"Hermione. We were working together as Curse-Breakers before we married. We have an understanding."

"But what about Victoire?" Hermione asked, looking at the stairs.

"Should she grow up knowing that her father died because her mother was afraid to help him?" Fleur shook her head with a sneer. "My family will take care of her, should the worst happen."

That was a rather… alien view. Or custom. Ron wondered - privately - if it was a Veela or a French witch thing.

"You didn't expect either of us to stop working as Curse-Breakers because we got married, did you?" Fleur asked.

Or perhaps it was a Curse-Breaker thing.

"No, I didn't," Hermione said. "But…" She fell silent and sighed. "My plans keep getting derailed," she complained.

"Our plans," Ron corrected her. "And that's how things work. No plan survives contact with the enemy."

"That doesn't mean what most people think it means!" Hermione replied. "Moltke meant that no plan extended with any certainty past the first battle - not that no plan survived the first battle."

"And it means you have to be ready to adapt," Ron told her.

"I just wish they would last a little longer," Hermione said, sighing again.

Before Ron could say anything else, Fleur perked up. "Bill just returned."

And, indeed, Ron could hear Bill's counterpart enter the house a moment later. "Hi, everyone! Where's the most beautiful girl in the world hiding?"

He sounded like Bill, too.

"Victoire is in her room - and she better stay there!" Fleur said, standing up. "Because she tried to transform by herself. But we have guests, Bill."

"Oh? Then it's a good thing that she's not on the stairs," wizarding Bill replied.

Ron was sure he heard a high-pitched squeal from the first floor.

Then wizarding Bill entered the living room. "Hermione! Ronald!" he greeted them before hugging Fleur.

"Just call me Ron," Ron replied. But he wasn't sure if the man heard him - his brother's counterpart was busy kissing his wife. For some time.

Ron was wondering if the other two adults had forgotten that he and Hermione were present when Hermione cleared her throat. Twice.

And wizarding Bill and Fleur broke apart. "Sorry," the wizard told them with a grin that clearly showed he wasn't sorry in the least. "But the second-most beautiful witch in the world always makes me forget everything and everyone else."

Fleur seemed to blush a little at that, but Hermione drily said: "Well, I hope that's hyperbole, since we want to hire you for a challenging task and Fleur has explained to us - at some length - that she won't let you do it alone."

"Oh? Colour me intrigued," wizarding Bill said, grinning as he sat down in an armchair. He still had a dragon fang earring, Ron noted, and his hair was still far longer than Bill's. Mum would be quite cross at the sight - although only until she saw Victoire, of course; Bill still hadn't had a steady girlfriend for longer than a few months.

"They want to break into Azkaban and steal a Dementor," Fleur told him, taking a seat on the armchair's armrest.

"You want me to help you break into the most well-guarded prison in Europe and kidnap a monster whose very presence kills plants and which dines on souls and memories?" Wizarding Bill frowned at them.

"Ah…" Had they misjudged him?

Ron was about to apologise when the wizard laughed. "Of course I'm in! That's a challenge no real Curse-Breaker could resist!"

Now that macho attitude was very familiar. Ron grinned.

"We were wondering whether you could copy the enchantment that allows the ferry to pass through the wards," Hermione explained. "You wouldn't have to come with us and risk your life that way," she added with a glance at Fleur.

"And wonder, should something happen, if it had been my fault?" wizarding Bill snorted. "No chance. Danger is part of the job." He nodded. "It's a good idea, though - quite a novel approach."

"So you think it would work?" Hermione asked.

"Hard to say. If they used secret spells then we might not be able to copy the enchantment, much less learn the spell." Bill shrugged. "Won't know until we try it."

"That's the other complication - we're sort of on a timer," Ron said.

"We need to do this within a week, approximately, or it will become even harder," Hermione explained. "Although since so many people have guessed our plans already, even a swift mission might not help."

"Which is why it's crucial that we aren't noticed." Ron nodded at the others.

"Won't they miss a Dementor?" the wizard asked.

Hermione scoffed. "I'd be surprised if the guards had any idea of how many Dementors populate the island. They certainly had no supervision of, or surveillance on, them and were completely surprised that the Dementors didn't stick to the guards' schedules."

"We're preparing a diversion to distract a potential witness," Ron said, "but it's still quite dangerous."

Wizarding Bill shrugged. "If all else fails, we can flee to France and let Harry and Ron sort things out. Visit the family."

Hermione frowned at him, but held her tongue instead of lecturing him about corruption and nepotism. Which was a good thing, of course - given that they were planning a break-in, it would have sounded more than a little hypocritical

"My family will welcome us with open arms," Fleur said. "Especially if we're being accused of attacking a Dementor."

"Well, we hope that won't be necessary," Hermione said. "We'll be masked and in disguise. My only worry is that people will immediately dismiss our disguises since they'll be convinced that I'm behind it."

"Well, you will be, won't you?" Ron pointed out.

"That's not the point."

Bill's counterpart laughed. "It's a prison that's going to be abandoned soon, with monsters everyone wants to see gone. I doubt anyone will make a fuss for long."

"Unless they want leverage on us," Ron said.

"Oh?" the wizard cocked his head at them.

"Saul Croaker has expressed an interest in recruiting me," Hermione told them. "He doesn't strike me as the sort of man to easily abandon his plans."

"He isn't," wizarding Bill confirmed. "But he has his limits as well."

"But getting caught, or even just accused, would damage my friends' reputation and political capital," Hermione pointed out.

"Perhaps," wizarding Bill replied. "Or they could use your actions to push for more reforms, citing the fact that you felt pushed to commit a nominal crime as evidence of how desperately reforms were needed."

That was a rather twisted view, in Ron's opinion. On the other hand, this was about politics.

"I would still prefer to avoid even the shadow of suspicion," Hermione told them.

"That train's left the station," Ron said. "You're already the main suspect anyway." He grinned. "Might as well make the most of your reputation."

"Really, Ron!"

Hermione frowned at him, but wizarding Bill and Fleur laughed.

*****​

Cove near Filey, Yorkshire, Britain, Wizarding World, April 24th, 2006

"You'd think they'd protect the only ferry capable of travelling to Azkaban a little better," Ron muttered as he studied the small pier and boathouse in the cove below through his night vision gear.

"You'd think so, yes," Hermione agreed, "But they don't."

"They did improve the wards, after the war," wizarding Bill told them. "And even posted guards for a few years, but once the Death Eaters were all accounted for…" He shrugged. "To be fair, the ferry isn't supposed to move without a key from the Ministry, and no one outside its crew is supposed to know where the island is actually located."

"None of those precautions seem sufficient," Hermione mumbled. "And it wouldn't keep anyone from freeing a prisoner - we saved Dirk Creswell by attacking the ferry during the war."

"And the Death Eaters used the ferry as bait later, ambushing another group," wizarding Bill said. "Although prisoner transports have more guards now."

"That won't keep anyone from stealing the ferry."

"But anyone who can steal the ferry and reach Azkaban could probably get through the wards anyway, if not as quickly," Ron pointed out.

"That's still no excuse for this...this sloppy organisation." Hermione huffed.

Wizarding Bill laughed. "Don't let Harry and Ron hear that. Their department is responsible for the ferry's security."

"They'll blame the Hit-Wizards, anyway," Ron said.

"True."

"Have either of you spotted any hidden guards?" Hermione asked. "I haven't."

"I haven't seen anyone, either," Ron told her. "Let's check with the others."

They moved down the hill and to the rally point. Wizarding Harry and Ron's counterpart were already there, as was Dumbledore - who had claimed he was coming along merely to observe.

Although in this case Ron believed the old man - Dumbledore knew he wouldn't be of any use when breaking through wards or dealing with Dementors. Not unlike yourself, a traitorous part of his brain reminded him. He ignored it. He couldn't let Hermione do this alone. At the very least, he could carry anyone who got wounded or present another target.

He doubted that Dumbledore would willingly do either. But the old man would observe everyone and everything. And draw conclusions for future plans.

"Did you spot anyone?" he asked as soon as he reached the parked van.

"No, mate," his counterpart replied. "Not a guard in sight."

"Just as the schedule claims it should be," wizarding Harry added. "And no sign of an Unspeakable hiding in the area, either - I checked with my Cloak."

Which somehow didn't show up on the usual charms to detect invisible people.

"I believe we've been most thorough, although admittedly I only have limited experience with magic," Dumbledore said. "But we investigated the most likely places where one could set up a secret observation post and found no sign of anyone having done so."

"We're just here to check the enchantments on the ferry, anyway," wizarding Bill said. He grinned at the two other wizards. "Don't try to steal the ferry, you hear?"

Wizarding Harry laughed, but wizarding Ron scoffed. "You aren't half as funny as you think you are."

Ron looked at Hermione. "He's talking about a mission during the war," she told him in a low voice. "They were supposed to scout somewhere but looted it instead. To be fair, we had a need for the supplies. Still, it was rather impulsive."

"We saw an opportunity and exploited it," Ron's counterpart said. "Now, let's get this done!"

*****​

As far as magical heists went, this was the most disappointing one Ron had ever been on. Granted, he hadn't been on too many, but literally all he was doing here was standing around keeping an eye out for wizards and witches he might not even notice. And if Hermione hadn't apparated with him into the cove, he wouldn't even have seen the boathouse.

It was more than a little frustrating, to be honest. On the other hand, Ron thought as he glanced over his shoulder, at least wizarding Bill and Hermione seemed to be making good progress on getting through the wards on the boathouse - the protections on the building, as had been explained to him, were new and therefore, even if they used more advanced spells than older wards, not as powerful as protections that had been around for decades or centuries.

Neither wizarding Bill nor Hermione seemed tense or even concerned as they flicked and swished their wands at the building.

"Fascinating," Dumbledore, standing next to him, said in a low voice.

"It would be," Ron replied, also in a low voice - easy or not, he didn't want to distract the others while they were breaking in, "if we could see what they were doing."

"That is indeed the fascinating part." Dumbledore chuckled. "A stark reminder of how much we depend on wizards and witches to deal with magic. And how much we have to trust them."

"That was obvious some time ago," Ron told the old man.

"So it was," Dumbledore agreed. "But, sometimes, certain lessons need a refresher to avoid being forgotten."

Ron nodded. Was the old spymaster alluding to himself? That he had started to think of the wizarding world as just another playground?

"In my old business, I received briefings and intel and made my own analyses, but I could, theoretically, still verify anything by myself - I knew how things worked and, except for any physical limitations, I could do everything myself."

That wasn't how it worked, in Ron's opinion. Everyone needed others, especially specialists. But he nodded anyway - he understood the sentiment.

"But with magic…" Dumbledore sighed. "I know I will never be able to use a wand and check myself if what I've been told about a spell or item is true."

Like Ron would never be able to check if what was discovered by forensics was actually true. "You have to trust people."

"Which is not something that comes easily to someone with my experiences."

Tough. Ron shrugged. "That's the reality we have to deal with."

"Indeed. Not to mention that the numerical discrepancy would be rather telling."

Was that a hint that Dumbledore wouldn't attempt to take over Wizarding Britain with a few hired wands? Or an attempt to recruit Ron? Or to lure him into spilling Hermione's and his own plans? Or was it a distraction from an attempt to take over their own world with magic? Ron shrugged again. "Fortunately, we're not limited to a single world."

"Or to two." Dumbledore smiled. "All those possibilities - at the tips of our fingers."

"At the tip of a wand," Ron corrected him.

"For now. But if magic and physics can be combined, wouldn't that indicate that one can replace the other with a bit of refinement?"

"I wouldn't count on that," Ron replied, "despite Arthur C. Clarke's famous quote." Magic might very well not be replaceable by mundane technology. Hermione certainly didn't seem to expect it to be - and she was the expert on portals.

"Even so, it's far easier to find a handful of trusted wizards and witches - perhaps tied together by familial bonds - to run a portal than to find a small army to take over a country guarded by wizards of their own."

The old man hadn't mentioned taking over a muggle country, Ron noted. "You mean the Weasleys."

"Your dimensional counterparts, yes." Dumbledore looked at wizarding Bill and Hermione, who were waving their wands around - and walking forward. Through the open door of the boathouse. "Quite an extraordinary family. Both branches."

Ron snorted. His family couldn't change reality at will with a wave of a wand. "Loyal, too," he said.

"Indeed. Though not blindly loyal, which is a quality too many dismiss, to their own detriment." Dumbledore's smile turned a little sad, Ron could see even in the dim light of the lamps the others had brought. "I've exploited blind loyalty in the past."

Ron didn't ask whether the old spymaster was talking about enemies blindly loyal to their leader or leaders, or his own blindly loyal spies.

"We're through!" Hermione announced before Ron could think of an answer.

"Very good!" Dumbledore said, looking at wizarding Bill and Hermione. "Not that I expected anything else."

Of course not, Ron thought as he followed the old man to the boathouse. "Will you have to restore the wards?" he asked Bill's counterpart. That would be detectable, wouldn't it?

"Well, I'll have to close the loophole we've opened once we're done," the wizard replied. "But the wards themselves are intact."

Good, then.

Ron nodded as he stepped inside.

He had been in the boathouse before, of course - when he and Hermione had taken the ferry to Azkaban. And in the short time since that trip, nothing had been changed. Which, seeing how easy it was to change a room or building with magic, he had expected but hadn't counted on.

It still looked very old. Rustic - if the BBC wanted a medieval-looking boathouse for another fantasy or historical movie or series, or for Dr Who, they wouldn't have to look any further. And the ferry would've fit as well.

Ron watched as wizarding Bill and Hermione took a closer look at the ferry, wands flashing as they started to discuss whatever they saw through their spells.

"So this is the anchor?" Hermione asked.

"One of them, yes. But there are more. And one - at least one - will be a trap."

"Oh, I see. It triggers a curse."

"And an alarm charm."

"Linked to a Protean Charm." Hermione sounded proud.

"Clever."

"It seems an obvious step," she retorted, but she sounded proud.

"It's never obvious until it's done."

"I did it in fifth year."

"I know. Ron told me."

"So where is the enchantment to pass through the defences around Azkaban?" she asked.

"Somewhere…. Here." Wizarding Bill pointed his wand at the bow of the ferry. A little bit above it, actually.

"Oh, that will be complicated to sort out."

"Yes. I doubt there's a way to copy it, actually."

"We don't know that, yet," she protested. "Let's untangle this web."

It sounded as if it would take a while.

*****​

It had taken a while, and then some. Not least, as Ron deduced from overhearing a few arguments, because Hermione had been unwilling to accept that her idea wouldn't work until she had exhausted every possibility.

"We'll have to steal the ferry," she announced with a deep frown. "We can't copy or transfer the enchantments on it. I'm positive that, with further research and study, we would be able to duplicate them, but that would take time we don't have."

"'Ask me for anything but time'," Ron quoted Napoleon.

"Yes, exactly," Hermione said, glaring at him as if it was his fault. "And it'll also limit our options since the ferry isn't particularly large."

"We only need it to pass through the island's defences," Dumbledore said. "I can get us a better - and faster - vessel for the trip to the island and back again."

So they wouldn't have to spend the trip too close to a Dementor, Ron noted with no small amount of relief.

"Now let's leave - we still need to close the hole we created," Hermione told them.

And then she looked at the ferry with a mixed expression.

*****​

"Mr Creswell?" she asked as soon as Harry had sent the last guard into the water. In two pieces. These guards wouldn't transport innocents to Azkaban ever again.

"Y-yes. Who are you?" The man sitting in the bow of the ferry looked shaken. Probably not because of the brutal fight they had just fought; with the way his eyes were swollen - either a curse or a brutal beating - he probably couldn't even see, much less recognise, her.

"I'm Hermione Granger," she told him."We're here to rescue you."

"Oh, Harry Potter's friend?"

She rolled her eyes, ignoring how Ron snickered and Harry coughed. "Yes, Harry Potter's friend. One of them," she said. "Give me your hand." She held out her own, but then a wave struck the ferry - they were drifting, after all - and she lost her balance, almost falling down.

Muttering a curse, she steadied herself against the railing.

"Are you alright?" Ron asked.

"I'll live," Mr Creswell said.

"I just stumbled," Hermione replied.

"Oh. I thought..." Mr Creswell fell silent.

"Let's apparate before reinforcements arrive," Ron told them.

"Yes. Hold on," she told the battered Creswell, grabbing his arm. She didn't want to be on the rickety old ferry when a larger wave hit them - whatever enchantment kept it afloat didn't keep it dry. Or steady.

Mr Creswell held out his arm vaguely in her direction, and, a moment later, they were in the temporary safe house they were using for this mission.

Now they had to treat his wounds. And then ask their questions about Gringotts.

*****​

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 70: The Dream Eater

Black Lake, Scotland, April 26th, 2006

"So, we thought about combining a Swooping Evil with our Nightmare Nuts, but that would be going a little too far," wizarding Fred explained as he paced back and forth in front of the large table in Hermione's laboratory. "What with the brain-eating and all."

"Most Ministry employees cannot afford to lose even part of their brain," wizarding Luna added. "And the Swooping Evil would probably get indigestion, anyway."

"And Swooping Evils are a known threat that the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures will quickly tackle," wizarding George cut in.

"But," wizarding Fred continued, "we were on the right track - what's a better lure for the Unspeakables than a mystery involving minds and memories? So, Nightmare Nuts would've been ideal for enhancing the effect. At least the version we decided not to sell since its effects last much longer than a few minutes - we had to dilute the essence of Boggart for that."

"Essence of Boggart?" Hermione leaned forward in her seat.

"Did you know that with the right worst fear, you can get a Boggart you can boil? It doesn't kill them," wizarding Fred added when he saw wizarding Luna's frown, "but the, uh, solution left behind retains some of the Boggart's magic."

"In short, it's a nightmare solution," George cut in with a very familiar grin that made Ron wince. "But our dear magical versions' product wasn't exactly easy to apply if you couldn't trick someone into eating the nuts. But if you manage to aerosolise the solution? Coupled with a little DMSO?"

"That sounds like a crime against humanity," Ron commented.

"No, no - just a gas that will induce nightmares," his brother replied.

A very effective gas - Ron was sure he'd have nightmares just from hearing about his brothers and their wizarding counterparts handling it.

"That sounds quite the feat. Although I assume there is more to your plan," Dumbledore said.

"Oh, yes!" Luna spoke up. "After all, we want to expose how inept and corrupt the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures is! Which means we'll be using a rare magical creature, too!"

"We've been wondering how best to feed the Dominican Dream Eater Daddy found on his last expedition," wizarding Luna explained. "And since nightmares are a very tasty treat for the dear, this would be perfect - people will have nightmares, upon which the dream eater can feed."

"Testing showed that people will remember having a nightmare, but nothing about it," wizarding George said.

"You've tested it?" Hermione asked.

"Of course we did! We'd never use something without testing it first - certainly not for serious business," he told her. "Such as fooling the Ministry as a diversion for the Heist of Azkaban."

"Or the Kidnapping of Azkaban," his brother added.

"Is it kidnapping if it's a Dementor?" wizarding George asked, cocking his head. "Wouldn't that be Dementor-napping?"

"That sounds like the Dementor is taking a nap," wizarding Fred said. "Or a name for a nightmare-nap."

"Could you expand on your plan before discussing naming options?" Hermione asked. "How did you test it? And on whom?"

"On ourselves, of course!" wizarding Fred replied, grinning.

"Using a diluted version," his brother added. "For safety."

"And that was impressive enough," Fred said, shuddering. "Though we didn't test how LSD added to the solution would work out. Still haven't tested that."

"Despite persistent rumours to the contrary," Dumbledore cut in, "LSD isn't exactly harmless. I would not use it on myself - certainly not in conjunction with a magical mind-altering substance."

Ron hoped his brothers and their counterparts weren't as stupid as to do so, either. "You can't afford to lose any sanity, either," he told them.

"Some say we're gone too far already," Fred said.

"It's not a joking matter," Hermione spat.

"Everything's a joking matter," he replied.

"Except death in the family. Extended family," his counterpart added.

"Something not entirely unlikely if you mix psychedelic drugs with magic," Ron pointed out. "A bad trip, combined with spells and curses?"

All four twins blanched a little. Ron sighed.

"Well, on second thought, perhaps we shouldn't test that particular product," wizarding Geoge said.

"We couldn't sell it, anyway," George added.

"And what exactly is your plan, then?" Hermione looked at the Lunas.

"We dose the victims with the gas, so they produce food for Snappy," wizarding Luna replied. "And we do it in Hogsmeade, so people will talk in the morning, and news will spread."

"A memory devouring - or, at least, dream eating, nightmare-inducing - creature in Hogsmeade? I daresay the Unspeakables will link it to the Dementors." Wizarding George nodded at his own words.

"That would lead them to us," Hermione said. "Or to check the Dementors' numbers on Azkaban."

"Which is why we will add another distraction, of course," Dumbledore told her. "Which will also grant you the perfect alibi. The Unspeakables will provide it."

"You want to use Polyjuice Potion," Hermione said.

Dumbledore smiled.

*****​

Outside Hogsmeade, Scotland, Wizarding World, April 27th, 2006

"You'd expect people to have better protections on their homes," Ron heard Hermione mutter as they looked at the village below them from the same vantage point they had done so shortly after the first time he had travelled through the portal. In the dim light of a new moon, he needed night vision gear to see the details of the village.

"You'd expect it, yes, but you'd be disappointed," wizarding Bill replied. "Gringotts was ready for a flood of requests for stronger wards. They pulled all Curse-Breakers still working for them off the tomb raiding in the Valley of Kings and called them back to Britain as soon as Voldemort's death had been confirmed. Even made them take refresher courses in the latest warding advancements." He chuckled. "And they paid for it, which would have been a nice bonus if I'd still been working for them. But the expected requests never arrived. Apparently, with Voldemort dead, most wizards didn't see any need to improve their home protections."

Hermione groaned. "That's… so irresponsible!"

"The goblins should have offered those services during the war," Fleur said with a scoff. "But they were too afraid that such a service would make them a target for one or the other side."

"Not entirely without justification," wizarding Bill added. "The Death Eaters wouldn't have tolerated the goblins helping to protect others from them. And both the Death Eaters and the Order would have wanted to know the secrets and keys to their enemies' homes. Which would have made the goblins a target."

"And then we had to break into Gringotts anyway," Hermione said. "They really didn't choose wisely."

"You and your friends didn't leave them dead or with their minds broken after interrogation," wizarding Bill told her.

"We only set their strongest dragon free and had it rampage through the heart of Gringotts," Hermione retorted. "I'm certain that, and the loss of face and reputation, hurt them more than the death of a few employees would have."

"Not quite," the wizard corrected her. "They take deaths very seriously."

"Blood calls for blood," Fleur quoted - presumably - the goblins.

"Ah." Hermione cleared her throat. "In any case, the miscalculation of the goblins and the lack of common sense - or an instinct of self-preservation - can only help us. If they had decent protections, we would have to break through several wards. I still can't believe Air-Cleaning Charms aren't standard after what you did to the Nott summer house."

"They were - for a time. But they were a little too effective, and people complained about every scent being removed as well. And adjusting the spells so they don't remove the scent of a freshly cooked meal, your partner's new perfume or the flowers in the garden is difficult, which means it's expensive," wizarding Bill explained.

"And adjusting your anti-vermin spells to keep out exotic magical creatures from the New World is expensive as well," Fleur added.

"We probably should've accepted Xenophilus' offer to get us creatures to help us fight during the war," Hermione muttered.

"Your Luna wouldn't have been happy," Ron pointed out. She had been adamant about ensuring the safety of her 'dear Dream Eater'.

Hermione scoffed. "She would've accepted it in time."

"Hindsight's always 20/20," he replied. "But what that means is that our targets are unprotected, right?"

"Yes," she replied. "We'll have to check the wards, of course, but their protections shouldn't be able to repel either the gas or the creature."

"How exactly did you pick the targets?" Fleur asked.

"We didn't. The twins and Luna did," Hermione told her.

"Oh. This is revenge, then?"

Hermione nodded. "Probably. Although not for anything serious - as I was told, they've already 'dealt with those'."

Wizarding Bill and Fleur nodded. Ron pressed his lips together. After a bloody civil war, a lot of people would've been wanting to settle accounts, and he doubted that the Order had been above it. "Anyway - has the Auror patrol passed already?" he asked. "I didn't see them."

"It should've, but Ron said that the night patrol schedule is more a suggestion for some," wizarding Bill told him.

"Well, patrols are supposed to be irregular," Ron pointed out. "So criminals cannot figure out a pattern. That's how they handle it in the army as well."

"I don't think the Aurors patrolling Hogsmeade considered that," Hermione said.

"Or not-patrolling, as may be the case." Ron chuckled.

"Let's give them fifteen more minutes. Then we go get the twins and the Lunas," Hermione said. "We'll need to keep a lookout, though, so we can avoid the patrol, should they appear."

"I can do that," Ron said at once. That was something he couldn't just do but was good at. Much better than just following Hermione around while she checked wards with Bill's counterpart.

"Alright."

*****​

The Dominican Dream Eater was a sight to see, even through binocs. It looked like a vague, man-sized collection of feathers, rocks and plants, moving like a miniature tornado in slow motion. In fact, it looked a lot like the 'dreamcatchers' Ron had seen over some cribs, though whether that would indicate a connection - didn't dreamcatchers originate in the Americas as well? But according to Luna, the species hadn't been known until her father had discovered it - and the ICW was still doubting its existence. So how could it have influenced muggle customs? In another world? Another mystery related to dimensional travel, he decided.

"Strike Team to Watcher, status?" he heard Hermione over the radio.

"Watcher to Strike Team, no sign of the patrol," he replied, looking at the main part of the village again. He couldn't spot even a hint of the red robes the Aurors wore. If Ron, in his rookie days, had neglected his duties like that…

He snorted - he was complaining about the enemy making a mistake, instead of being glad.

"Moving in."

Since the team was disillusioned, he couldn't see the others move, but he caught a glimpse of the Dream Eater floating in the sky, seemingly aimlessly - though Ron knew that it was following Luna somehow.

"I'm about to deploy the gas," Hermione reported. "Ensure that you've cast a Bubble-Head Charm."

"We're fine."

"OK here."

"Ready!"

"Do it!"

"Deploying the gas."

Once again, Ron couldn't see anything. But he knew Hermione would use a spell to switch the air inside the house with the invisible gas in the pressurised container she was carrying.

"Done."

Now all they had to do was wait. Ron scanned the streets again. There was still no sign of the Auror patrol. None that he could see, at least. And it had been hours. Sloppy and lazy. Irresponsible, even.

But as he studied the area around the Hog's Head Inn - a dive if he had ever seen one - he suddenly noticed that the Dream Eater was moving slowly towards the first target's house. In the dim light of the stars, it was almost invisible, but Ron's night vision gear allowed him to follow the creature's movements as it circled the house, then sank through the roof as if it were but a hologram.

"Snappy's feeding!" wizarding Luna's delighted voice sounded over the radio. "Look at him! Look how happy he is gobbling up the nightmare! He's the cutest!"

Ron noted the distinct lack of agreement from the others down there and tried not to imagine what was happening. Luna - both Lunas - had weird views of what they considered cute.

Mostly weird - Luna had dated him, after all.

"Alright - as soon as he's done eating, lure him out. We're moving to the next target," Hermione announced.

"We have to wait a moment, or he might get indigestion," wizarding Luna replied. "And you don't want the poor dear to vomit nightmares all over the place."

No, they definitely didn't want that.

*****​

"Alright - that's the fifth target down," Hermione reported.

"Still no sign of any Aurors," Ron told her. "I'm tempted to report them to their superiors," he added.

"Harry and Ron will hear about this," Hermione told him. "But they won't be able to act upon it. Not without giving the game away." After a moment, she added: "Let's go to the last target."

"But slowly! Snappy overate and can't rush things!" wizarding Luna replied.

"Should you feed him another nightmare then?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, yes. He likes them. It would be cruel to deprive him of dessert!"

Ron reminded himself that Luna had once eaten an entire birthday cake in one go. And not one meant for a two-person party. And the pains she suffered afterwards hadn't kept her from finishing the remains of the second cake for breakfast. If her counterpart was the same with regards to dessert - and, as far as he knew, that was the case - then she might not see a problem.

"Alright, we'll take it slow."

"No problem - I'm getting a little tired myself," wizarding Fred said.

"You're not even in the village; you're rear echelon," Ron told him. Then he frowned - he should show better radio discipline, as Sirius called it.

"So you claim!"

"Bet he slept the whole time!"

Great. He'd set the twins off - the wizarding twins. That was a stupid mistake to make. Ron would have to… His eyes widened. Had that been… yes. Someone was walking the streets. Dressed in wizarding fashion.

"Well if he's like our Ron, then his company is vastly improved as soon as he is aggressively saying nothing," wizarding Fred said.

"Shut up," Ron snapped. "Aurors have appeared in the centre - they're headed towards you."

"Someone must have sounded an alarm!" wizarding Fleur exclaimed.

"No," Ron told her. "They're moving slowly. It's the patrol we've been waiting for." Even without his binocs, he would've been able to tell - no police officer responding to an alarm moved like that. There was no urgency at all.

"It doesn't matter," Hermione said. "We need to move."

"Alright," wizarding Bill agreed.

"But Snappy's too slow to get away, stuffed as he is!" wizarding Luna protested.

Great.

Ron kept track of the Aurors, which was more difficult than expected - in the moonless night, they didn't stick out very much, and with the snow having gone even up here in Scotland, the dark red robes blended together with the cobblestone roads, at least when seen through his night vision gear. "They're on the main road," he reported. "Passing the pink café."

"Stick to the side alleys," Hermione snapped. "And get the Dream Eater down here, Luna!"

"He's got a name!" wizarding Luna replied. "Come to me, Snappy! You can't float so high, or the nasty Aurors will try to curse you!"

And that would give the game away, and keep the Unspeakables from getting called in, which would render the whole operation pointless.

But, as Ron could see with a quick glance, the Dream Eater didn't look like it would deign to listen to wizarding Luna's pleas. "They're passing the centre of the village," Ron told the others. That put them two houses from the team. The two Aurors weren't moving as if they were on a patrol - they looked more like an arguing couple taking a stroll, he noted. But they still presented a risk.

"Move back - we need cover, or they'll detect us with a Human-presence-revealing Charm."

"But Snappy's up there! He's confused!"

"Pull him down!"

"We can't! That would hurt him!"

"They're one house away," Ron told them. "Move!"

"Snappy! Come down! Yes, good boy!"

The Dream Eater started to float down, presumably towards wizarding Luna. Unfortunately, it was too slow - it reached the street just as the Aurors reached the entrance of the side alley - and the Aurors reacted, drawing their wands as they split up.

"No!"

"Stupefy!"

"Stupefy!"

And both Aurors were down.

"Standards really need to be raised," he heard Hermione mutter.

Ron agreed - he had a feeling that the two patrolling wizards would probably have missed the floating Dream Eater if it had stayed up in the air - they didn't seem the type to look up at all.

"Alright - obliviate them, then use the gas on them," Hermione said.

"And then Snappy gets dessert!"

Ron watched, but he couldn't see anything - not even flashes of light.

"We've erased the last few minutes from their memories," wizarding Bill informed them a few minutes later.

"Stay back, then - and recast your Bubble-Head Charm," Hermione ordered. "I'll be using the gas as soon as you're ready."

"Ready."

"Prète."

"Ready!"

"Move over, Ron!"

Ron turned his head. Wizarding Fred and wizarding George were climbing the slope towards him. He snorted. "Find your own spot."

"We did, but it's occupied!"

"By you!"

"Sod off," Ron replied.

"No sense of humour."

"Like our Ron. Imagine a world where Ron has a sense of humour!"

Ron rolled his eyes and tried to focus on the location of Hermione and the others in Hogsmeade.

"I'm deploying the gas now."

"Watch out! Well… it's invisible, so you won't see anything, but it seems the thing to say."

"But that means we won't see anything, either."

Ron rolled his eyes again. The twins - either set of them - weren't even a quarter as funny as they thought they were. He didn't tell them so, of course - he knew them.

And below, in the village, the Dream Eater was moving again. And this time, he could watch it feed. The collection of debris caught in a miniature whirlwind floated towards the first Auror, coming to a stop above the wizard's head. Then it lowered itself until the Auror's face disappeared in its midst, small rocks and feathers orbiting it.

And then it rose up again - and pulled what looked like a glowing ghost of the Auror along with it.

"Blimey!" Ron heard one of the twins - he couldn't tell who - whisper next to him.

"That looks like…" his brother trailed off.

"Like a Dementor feeding on a soul," Hermione said with more than a hint of shock in her voice.

"Mon Dieu!"

As the ghostly form was drawn into the whirlwind, slowly being torn apart, wizarding Luna spoke up: "Oh, no - that's just the dream consciousness being absorbed. Not the soul at all. Daddy tested it."

It certainly looked like a soul to Ron - at least the movie versions he had seen. And the Auror on the ground looked dead - or comatose. It was a little hard to tell from his position, even using magnification.

"Don't eat so fast, Snappy! You'll get indigestion! Slow down! Good boy!"

When the last wisps of the ghost had vanished, the Dream Eater rose even higher, then started floating towards the side alley. He heard wizarding Luna giggling soon afterwards.

"Luna!" Hermione snapped.

"That tickles! Oh, don't worry - Snappy knows he needs to keep the stones away from me. They only use them in self-defence anyway."

Ron could've done without the mental image of a person caught in a whirlwind with a few dozen rocks…

And when the Dream Eater moved to the other Auror, Ron took care to keep an eye out for reinforcements, or villagers leaving their homes very late - or very early.

But no one appeared - the creature fed on the second Auror without incident. And without listening to wizarding Luna, who kept telling it not to eat too fast.

Only after the second 'ghost' had dissolved in the whirlwind did the creature stop and float back to where Ron assumed the others stood - or, at least, where wizarding Luna stood. And it seemed to be wobbling as it flew - though that might be Ron's imagination.

"Oh, no! I told you not to overeat, Snappy!"

Or not. Had the Dream Eater gorged itself? Wait, what had wizarding Luna said about…

The Dream Eater suddenly seemed to shrink to half its size - no, it contracted.

"Uh-oh."

Then the whirlwind expanded, and transparent wisps started to shoot away from its centre.

"See? I told you you'd hurt your tummy!" wizarding Luna said.

More and more of the wisps were sent forth - and disappeared into the buildings surrounding them. One went for the Aurors on the ground, vanishing as it touched the first one - who quickly started to convulse.

"Is it… vomiting nightmares?" Hermione asked.

"Yes! The poor dear overate!"

"Are those entering sleeping people's minds?" Fleur asked.

"It seems so," wizarding Luna replied. "This is fascinating - do you think those are the dreams returning to their origin? Or do they merely pick a convenient target?"

"They're entering every house," Ron told them. "Not just the ones we targeted."

"And there are a few more than we had targets," wizarding Bill added dryly.

Ron blinked. What did that mean?

"Are those fragments of nightmares? Or buds?" wizarding Fred speculated.

"I don't know," Hermione said, "but we should leave as soon as possible."

"Oui," Fleur agreed. "If those nightmares hit us…"

Ron concurred - he really didn't want those nightmares to spread over a larger area.

"But Snappy can't move yet!"

"Tough," Hermione replied. "We can't stay while half the village is woken up by nightmares."

"Nightmare fragments," wizarding Luna corrected her. "And that's only an assumption."

"Not the part about people waking up," Ron told them - a light had just gone on in a house nearby. "They are waking up."

"Luna! Move it!"

"But… Oh, well. Come along, Snappy!"

The whirlwind, still contracting and expanding, like a parody of a moving worm or caterpillar, started to follow wizarding Luna down the side alley.

More and more lights went on in Hogsmeade as the group withdrew from the village.

"Well… that didn't go as planned," wizarding Fred commented.

"Not quite," his brother added. "Although this should have the Unspeakables rushing to the village."

Ron agreed. And that meant they would have to have their Polyjuice Potion alibi ready.

*****​

Black Lake, Scotland, April 28th, 2006

Once he had gone through the portal and was safe - relatively safe - in the lab, Ron allowed himself to relax. Just a little bit, though - the Dream Eater had stopped 'vomiting' nightmares on the way to the portal, but after what he had seen, he couldn't look at the creature without shuddering. It wasn't the worst thing he had seen - that was Azkaban - but it came close. In a way, the Dream Eater was even worse than the Dementors - those monsters looked like the personification of death in some works, but the Dream Eater looked truly alien. No face. No limbs, no body to see - just a whirlwind of feathers and rocks, and other things Ron hadn't been able to identify.

And wizarding Luna was still fawning over it. "Oh, you poor dear… but you really shouldn't have gorged yourself like that. You know you need to slow down to digest nightmares. And no, you don't have to be afraid of the people waking up and taking your food away, no."

Ron shuddered again as the witch led the Dream Eater out of the lab - to use a Portkey to transport it to their habitat 'where Snappy will be safe from the Ministry'.

"You know, Luna's a sweetie, but she really did learn the wrong lessons from Hagrid," wizarding Fred told him in a low voice.

"What do you mean?" Ron asked.

"Most students learn one crucial lesson in Care of Magical Creatures: That every creature is dangerous. And that Hagrid doesn't understand that. Actually, those are two lessons…"

"No Monty Python quotes," Ron told him.

"I have no idea what you mean." The wizard stared at him, but Ron knew his brothers better than anyone else - and that carried over to the wizarding world.

"Yeah, right."

Wizarding Fred huffed. "Anyway, I had a thought - and no repeating jokes that were old when Dumbledore was young. Ether Dumbledore."

Ron made a gesture to get the wizard to come to the point.

"Do you think the Dream Eater did that deliberately?"

"What?"

"You know, spill nightmare bits. If more people have nightmares, it has more food. Like sowing before you reap."

"It didn't get to eat the new nightmares," Ron pointed out.

"That's true - but could it have known that would happen? Luna was leading it around from buffet to buffet, then, suddenly, we had to leave - just when the harvest was starting."

Ron would have dismissed it as just a crackpot theory - but then, the wizarding world wasn't exactly sane to begin with. "You'll have to ask her, I guess."

"I will."

Apparently, the presence of the Dream Eater wasn't enough to scare wizarding Fred away.

Well, no one, ever, said that the twins were wise.

*****​

Black Lake, Scotland, April 28th, 2006

Wizarding Harry and wizarding Ron arrived shortly after breakfast. Which was, due to how late the mission last night had been - Ron and the others had returned to base long after midnight - closer to lunch. Or brunch.

"What did you do in Hogsmeade?" Ron's counterpart blurted out. "The entire village was woken up by nightmares!"

"Luna and the twins - all of them - miscalculated," Hermione told him.

Wizarding Ron gaped for a moment. "Bloody hell!" He shook his head. "What were you thinking?"

"Me?" Hermione narrowed her eyes at him.

"Well, it was your idea, your mission, right?"

Ron carefully didn't nod in agreement. Mostly because he hadn't opposed the plan, either.

"I didn't plan for nightmare indigestion," Hermione said.

"Nightmare indigestion?"

"The Dream Eater Luna brought stuffed itself on nightmares created by the twins, then vomited them all over the village," Ron explained.

His counterpart and wizarding Harry turned a little green.

"That's a slightly simplified explanation, but it's basically correct," Hermione added.

"What were you thinking?" wizarding Harry said.

"That we needed a real mystery to attract the attention of the Unspeakables," she retorted, frowning at her friends.

"Well, you got it," wizarding Harry replied. "Half the Department of Mysteries is in Hogsmeade, casting every spell they know at every nook and cranny."

"And the entire village is in St Mungo's, being checked by the Healers for lingering curse damage or mental effects," Ron's counterpart added.

Ron whistled. That was a little more than they had expected.

Hermione winced, then glared at him - as if this was his fault! "We didn't intend for things to go…"

"Out of control?" Wizarding Harry raised his eyebrows.

"...that far," she corrected him. "We only wanted to affect half a dozen people."

"Chosen by the twins," Ron added.

"Well, you got the entire village. Which means that the country's going crazy, too - everyone's afraid they'll be next." Wizarding Ron shook his head "The Ministry's getting swamped by calls for help. Everyone with a nightmare, or just a cold, is screaming about monsters and dark curses."

"It's the biggest panic since… I don't actually remember," wizarding Harry said.

Hermione pressed her lips together. Ron patted her shoulder. "I never wanted this," she said, shaking her head.

"Well, you got it anyway," wizarding Harry told her. "Now we have to deal with it."

"And we need to hit Azkaban," Ron said.

*What?" the others looked at him.

He spread his hands. "I know it's terrible and all, but… this is the perfect distraction, isn't it? We can't let this opportunity pass." And no one had died. At least no one was supposed to die.

"We've tested the gas, but we haven't tested what happens if partially digested nightmares are sent into people's minds," Hermione replied.

That was a sobering thought. But… "Still, it's the perfect opportunity to raid Azkaban. And it's not as if we can do anything for the villagers without revealing our actions."

Judging by the tense expressions on the faces of the other three, no one could disagree with that.

"Well, we need to go to Hogsmeade now," wizarding Ron said. "They're expecting us."

"And where do they think you are right now?" Ron asked.

"Fetching Hermione."

"What?"

"Since the Unspeakables know you're researching the Dementors, and this incident looks like it's related to Dementors, and since they know we don't trust them blindly…" Ron's counterpart shrugged. "It would be suspicious if we didn't fetch you to get a second opinion. Third, if you count the Hogwarts' staff."

"They're also investigating?"

"Of course they are. An incident like this, next to Hogwarts?" Wizarding Harry shook his head. "McGonagall dragged the Defence teacher there herself, or so I've heard."

"Oh." Hermione sounded surprised.

"And what if they suspect that Hermione was behind this?" Ron asked.

"That was the point of it, right? Now we need to turn this into an alibi," wizarding Ron said. "Well, not literally an alibi - but the foundation for one."

"But… we need to pick a double first," Hermione said. "We planned for the news to spread slowly, taking at least a week to catch the attention of anyone at the Ministry!"

And after another night or two of nightmares. Ron shrugged. "We need to adapt, then. Besides, most people will think the painting is a good example of how you are and act."

That earned him a scowl. "Don't remind me of that… travesty."

"You haven't yet picked a double?" Wizarding Harry frowned.

"Dumbledore said that he's handling it," Hermione told him.

"There aren't any witches who know you well enough to play the role," wizarding Ron said. "Nor many wizards. Hell, Harry and I might have trouble acting like the new you!"

"The 'new me'?" Hermione raised her eyebrows at him.

"You know what I mean," the wizard replied. "Anyway, who did you have in mind? Not Luna, I suppose. Or one of the twins."

Hermione shuddered.

*****​

Hogsmeade, Scotland, Wizarding Britain, April 28th, 2006

"Has the village been evacuated?" Ron asked as they appeared on the outskirts of Hogsmeade. He could see dozens of people on the streets - but all of them wore the red robes of the Auror Corps, the grey of the Hit-Wizards or the cowls of the Unspeakables.

"Yes," wizarding Harry said.

"It looks like an invasion;" Hermione commented. "I think the Ministry deployed fewer people in the battles against the Death Eaters."

"Well, it's not the old Ministry any more - and this is the only wizarding village in Britain," Ron's counterpart said.

Which meant this was as bad as the City of London getting hit by a gas attack, comparatively. Or worse, population-wise.

"Auror Potter! Auror Weasley!" An Auror came running up to them. "The Minister requires your presence."

"Where is he?" wizarding Harry asked.

"Centre of the village - can't miss him."

"Alright."

Hogsmeade looked like it had been invaded, too, Ron noticed as they entered the village. The first house they passed had a hole in its roof - blown out from within, he guessed. It was hard to tell with all the debris, and an Auror was peering through the hole, wand in hand, but… "Those must have been some nightmares," he said in a low voice. "If they cast curses after waking up - or could they cast while asleep?" Did any wizards sleep with their wands in hand? Wasn't that like sleeping with a loaded gun in hand?

"Or it was accidental magic?" Hermione suggested with a grimace.

He blinked. "I thought that didn't happen any more after you got a wand."

"It's rare, but it can happen. And there would have been children in the village as well."

Oh. He winced. "Damn."

"Yes, damn," wizarding Harry said.

Ron felt like he had been punched in the gut. Children. Not just civilians, but kids. Damn.

At least there weren't any more damaged houses, Ron told himself as they walked towards the village's centre. That would've been…

"It's just nightmares," Hermione said. "People have nightmares all the time. I spent months having nightmares." She sounded composed, but her grimace… It seemed she was trying to convince herself as much as Ron and the others.

"You fought in a civil war," Ron pointed out.

"I had nightmares about spiders as a kid," his counterpart told them. "It was the twins' fault. But I'm fine now."

Ron nodded, shuddering.

"And in Defence Against the Dark Arts, you still face a Boggart at least once," wizarding Harry added.

"Let's hope it's really just normal nightmares," Ron said. Wizarding Luna would be devastated, otherwise. If she felt guilty for hurting a kid...

"Kingsley," wizarding Harry interrupted his thoughts - they had arrived at the centre.

"Harry! Ron! Where… ah." The Minister nodded. "Good morning, Miss Granger, Mr Weasley. Thank you for coming. Did Harry and Ron fill you in?"

Ron nodded, even though he knew the question wasn't aimed at him.

"They did. I'm not sure if I'll be of much use, though," Hermione replied. "This is somewhat outside of my experience."

"But you've been studying the Dementors, haven't you?" the Minister asked.

"I've seen a muggle village after a Dementor attack. This doesn't look like it." Hermione turned to face the street behind her. "No bodies on the road, and the plants are still alive."

"We've had cases of memory loss - and all victims report nightmares similar to those prisoners suffer in Azkaban," Shacklebolt told her. "Croaker thinks this might be a rogue Dementor - perhaps a new variant of Dementor."

"A new variant? Like a spontaneous mutation?" Hermione scoffed.

"Or the result of experimentation." The Minister shrugged. "No one knows how Dementors came to be. Whether they were created by dark wizards or occurred naturally."

"I'm well aware that research on the Dementors is sorely lacking," Hermione said with a huff. "It's almost criminally negligent how the Ministry keeps using those creatures without understanding anything about them."

"You could rectify that," Shacklebolt told her.

She frowned at him. "Mr Croaker told you about his offer."

"He did. And he suggested calling you in."

"Well, he didn't tell us before we went to fetch her," wizarding Ron said, frowning.

"I believe you were already on your way. Where were you, by the way?"

"They were at a vacation home of mine," Hermione said with a glare. "A private vacation home."

"Ah." If the Minister was annoyed at her curt reply, he didn't show it.

"Ah, Miss Granger."

Ron turned and saw Croaker was walking towards them, smiling - he was the only one Ron had seen so far in Hogsmeade who was smiling. Everyone else looked grim - or, in the case of a few younger Aurors and Hit-Wizards, nervous and afraid.

"Mr Croaker." Hermione nodded at him. "You suspect that this is the work of a hitherto unknown variant of Dementor?"

"Or something related to the Dementors, depending on how you define 'variant'. We did find traces of memory loss in the affected people."

"If Dementors had invaded Hogsmeade, the villagers would've been killed." Hermione shook her head. "This was something else."

"Perhaps." Croaker smiled. "But I have a feeling that there is some connection to the Dementors."

Hermione didn't quite scoff, but her expression left no doubt that she disagreed.

"But you're becoming quite the expert on them, aren't you? I'm sure the results of your investigation of this incident will be fascinating to read."

If that wasn't a subtle taunt, Ron would eat the man's cowl. The problem was, he couldn't tell if Croaker was falling for their ruse - or had seen through it.

And neither, Ron thought, could Hermione.

*****​

"We need to do something about the Dementors!"

She looked up from the grimoire Dumbledore had given them. Harry stood in the door, holding a newspaper. A muggle newspaper. "What happened?"

"A second 'gas accident'," he replied, dropping the newspaper on her desk - and almost scattering her notes. "Three families died."

"Three families?" She quickly skimmed the article. "A cover-up."

"Yes. They must have removed some of the bodies."

No need to ask who he was talking about: the Ministry under Voldemort. "Sooner or later, this will endanger the Statute of Secrecy," she said. "There's probably already a conspiracy theory about chemical weapon attacks - or accidents."

Harry nodded and sat down in an armchair. "But the Dementors don't care about that. We need to stop them."

"We need to defeat Voldemort," she retorted. "And that's our task. We don't know how to stop the Dementors roaming England."

He lifted his wand. "A Patronus Charm generally stops them."

"I didn't mean literally," she said, huffing at him. "Seriously, sending the Dementors packing isn't enough - we would need to be able to imprison them. Without anyone being able to release them."

And that would take more resources than they could spare at the moment.

She turned the newspaper over so she didn't have to look at the headline: "Three Families Dead."

They couldn't do much about that.

*****​

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 71: The Double Bluff

Hogsmeade, Scotland, Wizarding Britain, April 28th, 2006

"I wouldn't claim to be an expert on the Dementors," Hermione told Croaker. "And I don't think my presence here could be called an investigation."

"But you will investigate the incident, won't you?" Croaker smiled in that annoying manner of his. "If only to ensure that this wasn't the work of a Dementor. I doubt that you would be able to focus on your research if you weren't absolutely certain that none of those fiends are on the loose."

Another hint that the Unspeakable thought they had done this? Ron kept his face expressionless.

Hermione, though, frowned. "Of course I will look into this - I wouldn't be here, otherwise. But that doesn't mean or imply being employed by the Ministry. I like my independence." She turned to Shacklebolt. "I hope that doesn't mean I'm not allowed to make my own observations."

"Of course not," the Minister replied at once. "We need all the help we can get - our own investigation hasn't had any results so far."

"We have just started." Croaker's smile slipped a little at the implied criticism.

"Research and investigations rarely bring dependable results if they're rushed," Hermione added. "But as I said, I'm not an expert. All I can do is take a look at the scene of the crime and make deductions. And no, that doesn't mean I think it was a crime - it's merely the most plausible assumption at the moment."

"If it was a crime, it's one of the most serious in Britain's history," Croaker said, his expression bland. "An entire village sent to St Mungo's - that didn't happen even during the last two wars."

Hermione glared at the old wizard. "Entire villages were murdered in the last war - I've seen the remains. But they were muggles, so it doesn't count?" She scoffed and walked away.

Ron glanced at Croaker and Shacklebolt as he turned to follow her. The Minister was glaring at Croaker. Shacklebolt had fought in the war, so he wouldn't like the implications that muggle victims didn't count. But could there be more behind this? Both of them wanted Hermione working for the Ministry, after all.

Well, he could ponder that once they weren't investigating their own crime any more.

He saw the first wizard - except for Shacklebolt - who wasn't an Auror, Hit-Wizard or Unspeakable after catching up to Hermione and pointed him out to her. "Who might that be?"

"Probably a member of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures," she replied. "They would've been called in as well - as soon as the possibility of a creature being involved came up."

Which, seeing as everyone seemed to suspect the Dementors, would've happened rather soon.

"Hello?" Hermione called out to the wizard staring at the ground - the ground where they had left the Aurors, Ron realised; he had only seen it from afar.

"Yes?" The wizard - middle-aged and a little out of shape looked up.

"I'm Hermione Granger. This is Ronald Weasley - the other Roland," she introduced them. "We've been asked to look into the incident."

"She's been asked. I just tagged along," Ron said with a wry grin.

To his surprise, the wizard beamed at him. "Oh, but you're a police officer, aren't you? I'm sorry, where are my manners? I'm Humphrey Wilkinson, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."

"Yes, I worked for the police," Ron said.

"So, you know how to investigate a crime scene, right? Dust for fingerprints, footprints, DNA-traces?" Wilkinson smiled at him. "We could really use some samples here."

Ron kept smiling even though he wanted to curse. Here, finally, was a wizard who appreciated Ron's skills, and he couldn't show them off without exposing his friends and himself as the culprits. The universe had a strange sense of humour. He nodded. "I would love to, but I fear that the scene has been thoroughly contaminated." He pointed at all the wizards and witches walking and, in some cases, floating around.

"Oh!" Wilkinson's face fell. "That's too bad." He perked up quickly, though. "But since we're looking for a possible creature, there should be inhuman DNA, right? At the very least, we should be able to confirm whether or not a Dementor was involved."

"You have Dementor DNA on file? I didn't think they would have DNA." Hermione sounded as surprised as Ron. He wouldn't have expected wizards to care about such things.

"Well… their, uh, tissue should still be distinctive. I'm muggleborn, and my mother's a biologist, so I know about that…" the wizard shrugged. "But I don't have the experience or tools to secure samples in the field."

Ron nodded. "I'll see what I can improvise. I wasn't with Forensics, but I've seen enough crime scenes that I should be able to help." After all, the Dream Eater had been flying the whole time, hadn't it? Although… "I'm not sure, however, if a Dementor would've left DNA traces or tissue, what with them apparently flying and wearing rags."

"Fibre samples would be distinctive, though, wouldn't they?"

Someone had watched too many crime dramas, Ron thought.

But he nodded and started to check the crime scene. The footprints had been, as he had said, trampled over - probably by both villagers fleeing their homes and the arriving Aurors and Hit-Wizards. But when the Dream Eater had attacked the stunned and gassed Aurors, it had sunk into their heads - and might've touched the ground.

Not that he'd know that, officially. "What happened here?" he asked.

"The Hogsmeade Auror patrol was attacked here. Stunned - they were left on the ground in the middle of the street," Wilkinson told him.

"Any curses on them?"

"Only the mental curse they're still trying to identify." Wilkinson shrugged. "I'm not an expert for those spells."

"Right. So they were stunned and then attacked - or the other way round. In any case, an attack took place here." Ron knelt and started searching the area.

Wilkinson pointed at the location. "They were found right in the middle of the street."

"Thank you."

"That doesn't mean that they were attacked there," Hermione said, narrowing her eyes slightly as she looked at Ron.

"I know, but if they were moved here, there might still be traces," Ron told her. He couldn't play too dumb, could he? Otherwise, the Ministry would grow suspicious. Or even more suspicious.

"Do you need tools?" Wilkinson raised his wand. "I can conjure tweezers and vials."

"If I find something, I'll tell you," Ron replied, looking at the cobblestones. There were abrasive traces on some of the stones - and the colour of them matched the colour of the rocks that had been part of the Dream Eater's body. "This is weird," he said, pointing at the traces. "Looks like something hard hit the stones here."

Wilkinson knelt down next to him. "Merlin's beard, you're right! That's a trace!"

"I don't know how to analyse it, though," Ron told him. "That would be lab work."

"Well, we might be able to get some muggle help for that."

Ron was surprised. "You've got access to a lab?"

"I think the DMLE has an arrangement with the muggle police."

"Ah." That would make sense. But it would complicate matters, too - although Ron doubted that, regardless of any deal or understanding, Forensics would prioritise a wizarding request. Not when there were capital crimes to be investigated with the press and superiors pushing for results - Ron was well aware of how much politicking and favour-trading went on in pushing your request to the head of the queue. Well, theoretically - Colin had always prioritised Harry's requests.

Hermione, though, looked like she wasn't aware of that. "Well, that's one trace. But it seems as if there's nothing else to be found here," she said, looking around.

"We haven't checked for fibres, yet!" Wilkinson protested.

"I did, actually," Ron told him. "I could take a few samples if you can summon the tools, but it doesn't look like there are any. Other than from the Aurors' robes, of course." He pointed at a few strands of red stuck between two stones.

"Oh, right. But we can still take the samples!"

Yes, Ron thought, definitely a crime series fan. "You know - odds are we won't get any useful results," he told the wizard. "It's not like on the telly."

"I know that!" Wilkinson said. He didn't sound very convincing, though. "But we can try, can't we?"

"Of course."

"In other news, I haven't found any of the typical cold damage to the environment that Dementors cause," Hermione cut in, holding up a plant. "We need to check the doors and windows now, to see if any were forced - Dementors cannot pass through walls, after all."

"Yes," Ron agreed. "Which is the closest affected house?"

"Take your pick - last I heard, every house was affected," Wilkinson said.

Ron didn't have to fake his grimace hearing that again. This had been a real nasty blunder.

*****​

"Well, there's no sign of forced entry," Ron concluded half an hour later, pointing at the back door he had been examining. "The locks haven't been tampered with by muggle means, either - unless they were magically cleaned and repaired after the fact."

"Which is certainly a possibility," Hermione said. "Although if wizards or witches are involved in this incident, then I wonder what their motives were. As a terror campaign, it feels a little…" She shrugged. "Death Eaters would've been much more brutal - and lethal."

"It could be a delayed curse - switching on after a certain time, and letting dark wizards take control of everyone affected!" Wilkinson exclaimed.

"If they wanted to exert mental control over their victims, then they would have been more subtle to avoid tipping off the Ministry," Hermione retorted. "Now that the Ministry is forewarned, the victims will be under observation."

Wilkinson gasped. "Oh! It could be a distraction!"

Ron managed not to wince in response.

"A distraction?" Hermione, too, remained calm.

"Yes. It keeps St Mungo's and the DMLE too busy to notice the real crime!"

Once again, Ron managed not to wince. That was exactly what it was.

Hermione, though, nodded, almost eagerly. "Yes, indeed. That would fit this incident - although it's just one possible explanation." She ignored Ron raising his eyebrows at her. "But then - what was the real crime?"

"You mean they already did it?"

"Or they are in the process of committing the crime," she replied. "Because the Aurors won't be here forever, will they?"

Ah. A double bluff. Ron nodded. "If they want to distract the Aurors, then they need to strike fast. If it's to overload St Mungo's…" He shrugged. "I don't know how long the hospital will be busy."

"We have to tell the Minister!" Wilkinson shouted. Looking around, he added: "Where is he?"

"Either still in the centre of the village, being seen to be doing something, or back at the Ministry doing his job," Ron told the wizard.

Wilkinson blinked. "But… Oh, you were joking! Let's go!"

Ron hadn't been joking. The Minister, even if he was a former Auror, couldn't do much here. He and Hermione followed the wizard outside.

And, as Ron had half-expected, Shacklebolt was still in the centre of the village. And he was talking to Croaker.

"Minister!" Wilkinson blurted out. "We've got a theory - this could be a distraction!"

"That's an obvious conclusion," Croaker replied, looking at Hermione.

"We've found no sign of forced entry. If this was a Dementor, they must have been let into the houses by someone," Hermione replied. "And the locking charms hadn't been removed or tampered with."

"As far as you know," Croaker said. "There are ways to slip through protections."

"On the entire village? That would've taken an army of Curse-Breakers," she retorted.

"Indeed," Shacklebolt agreed. "We've already considered that possibility."

Wilkinson's face fell. "Oh…"

"The question is: If this was a distraction, what was it for?" Hermione asked. "It looks like most of the DMLE has been deployed here - and at St Mungo's, I assume."

"Indeed. The Healers requested additional guards until they have ascertained that the victims aren't under a magical compulsion," Shacklebolt confirmed.

"So what's happened in other places? Hogwarts? Azkaban?" Hermione asked.

"Hogwarts is secure - that was the first thing we checked," the Minister told her. "Azkaban… we've sent a patrol to check on the island."

"Good. Those are the two most likely targets," Hermione said. "Though if neither of those were attacked, then what else could have been targeted? A manor?"

"That would be more difficult to check - we still don't know the location of every magical manor in Britain," the Minister replied.

Hermione snorted. "We didn't attack every manor we knew about - only those belonging to known Death Eaters and their allies."

"Though many of those living in manors are still concerned," Croaker cut in. "And perhaps with good reason in some cases - we all know that the cellars and attics of old manors often hold dark items."

Was that a hint?

"Do they fear a Ministry raid?"

"It's happened before," Shacklebolt said.

"And the targets generally were warned in advance," Hermione retorted. "Malfoy was never caught out by a raid - and he kept dark artefacts in his manor, as I know from personal experience. But anyone harbouring criminals or illegal items wouldn't call the DMLE for help if they were attacked or burgled anyway, would they?"

"Stranger things have happened," Shacklebolt replied. "But it would be unlikely."

"That means that if this was a distraction, then whoever's responsible must have struck already - or is in the process of striking," Hermione said.

"Yes," Ron added. "The crime scene is going to be secure by evening, freeing the Aurors and Hit-Wizards here. What about the Ministry?"

"The Ministry's protections weren't touched," Croaker said with a slight sneer.

Hermione scoffed in return. "I wouldn't be so confident. If someone is able to break into all the houses in Hogsmeade in one night, without anyone noticing anything, then they might also be able to fool the Ministry's wards. After all, we broke into the Ministry during the war," she added with a smile.

Croaker tensed, Ron noticed. He must not have considered this. Or he wanted to appear tense. "I'll have it checked," he said with a curt nod.

"And I'll have our Aurors check for any signs of a break-in," Shacklebolt added, sighing. "This has been a disaster. If we should find that someone broke into the Ministry…"

Hermione nodded, her lips pressed together. "That could've been the entire goal - to undermine the Ministry."

"By cursing an entire village?" Shacklebolt shook his head. "I think this is something worse: the first overt sign of a dark wizard introducing themselves by challenging the Ministry. Perhaps an entire organisation."

Ron was glad that his and Hermione's shocked reactions were perfectly natural even for people who weren't responsible - in part - for the whole incident.

"A new organisation?" Hermione frowned. "That would explain how they managed to break through the protections on every house in an entire village. But the number of Curse-Breakers - experienced Curse-Breakers - you'd need for that… you can't easily recruit that many."

"Indeed," Croaker agreed. But he looked pensive. "However, if one recruited overseas…" He tilted his head. "I doubt that the Ministry has many sources outside Europe."

"That would fall under the purview of the ICW, I would think," Hermione said. "I take it that the Confederation's performance in stopping dark wizards and witches hasn't improved since the war?"

"Their main purpose is the protection of the Statute of Secrecy," Croaker replied. "And the definition of what exactly is a dark wizard or witch tends to differ between its various members."

Hermione snorted. "That's a very diplomatic way of stating that there are dark wizards and witches amongst its members."

"According to our definition," Croaker said, nodding.

"Politics." She scoffed.

Shacklebolt sighed. "We're not totally bereft of sources in the usual circles - we've kept in touch with some of the Order's contacts. I'll see what they can dig up."

"'The usual circles'?" Ron asked.

"The Balkans and the New World are traditional areas for mercenary recruitment," Hermione explained. "But anyone recruiting in such numbers would have made waves - too many factions currently preparing for or engaging in magical conflicts would feel threatened."

"That's a good point," Shacklebolt acknowledged. "Which means that anyone who managed to do so without alerting anyone is even more dangerous than one might expect. They must be experts in infiltration."

Once more, Ron was glad that wincing was an expected reaction to the Minister's conclusion.

*****​

Black Lake, Scotland, April 28th, 2006

"A rather unexpected development. Not entirely without precedent, I think - but unexpected."

Dumbledore took the news with his usual poise and polite smile. The old man might even be amused at how much the whole distraction had spun out of control.

"The Ministry's gearing up to fight another Dark Lord," Hermione said. "That is…" She shook her head. "That's about the worst outcome possible, short of being exposed!"

"Not entirely," the old man retorted. "No one actually died. And we know that, contrary to what the Ministry fears, there are no lingering compulsions in the minds of the affected."

"We assume so - no one, as far as we can tell, has ever experienced a Dream Eater vomiting nightmare fragments," Hermione pointed out. "We have no idea about the effects, particularly the long-term effects."

"While we cannot be completely certain that such fragments might not be worse than normal nightmares, there's no reason to assume they are. And we know the effects of the nightmares. Those have been tested."

"Indeed!" wizarding George said. To the twins' credit, they didn't seem to think this was funny. "As harmless as all our other products for the general market."

"Though we might open a new line for aspiring dark wizards," his brother added. "Thaumaturgical Terrors? The easiest way to scare a whole country?"

Or not. Ron sighed.

"It's not funny," Hermione told the twins.

"Well… that's a matter of what you consider funny. For people with a sense of humour, this is…" wizarding Fred started to reply.

Hermione cut him off: "And how will Luna react to this?"

That made the twins wince.

"Where is she?" Ron asked.

"With the Dream Eater," wizarding George told him. "She won't like this."

"That's a worse understatement than Mr Dumbledore's summary," Hermione said.

"Actually, this isn't as bad as it looks," the old spymaster told her. "With the Ministry up in arms, it'll be even easier to distract them during our next move."

"They'll be closely watching Azkaban," Hermione pointed out. "They will probably guard the ferry as well."

"Indeed. I'm counting on that." Dumbledore smiled.

"You want to sneak in disguised as Ministry forces?" Ron blurted out.

"In a manner of speaking, yes." Dumbledore nodded slowly. "It shouldn't be too difficult to arrange things with the help of your friends who are conveniently highly-placed in the Ministry."

"Do we actually need a distraction then?" wizarding Fred asked.

"Azkaban is protected against all forms of magical travel," Hermione said. "And we cannot use Polyjuice Potion, either - after Crouch's escape came to light, they've been checking for that. It's the same for the Shrinking Charm."

"I've read your notes, Dr Granger." Dumbledore's smile widened. "While stealing the ferry would've been preferable, with the Ministry now not investigating a new magical phenomenon but instead preparing to foil a potential attack by an organised group of dark wizards, we would do better to have a small team hitch a ride, so to speak."

Ron sighed. "Thunderball."

Dumbledore beamed at him.

Hermione groaned.

"According to my information, the enchantment would cover attachments to the hull," the old spymaster went on.

"Yes," Hermione confirmed. "Provided they aren't too big - or too far away. The enchantments extend far enough that people can stand on deck without being outside the area of effect, and the spell extends the same distance below the ship's keel. Not the safest or most efficient arrangement, but it's an old enchantment, and back when it was implemented, it was deemed sufficient."

"Couldn't someone have used a spell to breathe water and another to stick to the hull?" Ron asked. That was an obvious tactic - at least to him.

"The ferry's hull is covered by a spell that keeps things from sticking to it - which is a problem we would need to deal with," she told him.

"Not a problem," wizarding Fred interjected with a grin. "If they are using the standard Anti-Sticking Charm, that only counters a Sticking Charm. More sophisticated ways to stick to a surface aren't impeded at all."

"The hull is also charmed to be damage-resistant," Hermione told him.

"We wouldn't use such crude methods!" the wizard protested. "Suction cups don't do any damage!"

Could it be that simple? "Don't octopuses use suction cups as well?" Ron asked. "Wouldn't they charm the ferry against those?"

"That's what the Animal-Repelling Charm is for," Hermione said. "Although I think they feared collisions with large marine mammals more than giant squids."

"Or shark attacks!" wizarding Fred added.

"I don't think any sharks have ever attacked vessels of that size," she replied.

"I wouldn't go that far," Dumbledore told her. "Individual sharks might - out of sheer curiosity, if nothing else - try to take a bite out of anything. But I do agree that attacking a vessel the size of the ferry would be very unusual."

"Well, I'm glad, anyway, that we won't have to worry about sharks attacking us," Ron said. "Provided that the suction cups work."

"Well, if they won't, we'll find out soon," wizarding Fred, somewhat dismissively, replied.

"We will find out, not you," Hermione corrected him. "But while this plan seems to be sound," she went on, "it doesn't solve the problem of us being the main suspects - at least for Mr Croaker."

"And that's where Polyjuice Potion comes in." Dumbledore beamed at them. "Using the fact that people are almost identical to their dimensional counterparts, Messrs Weasley and Mrs Potter can easily use the potion to replace Mr Weasley, his wife and Dr Granger while I should be perfectly capable of acting in Mr Weasley's stead. A family gathering won't be at all suspicious, given current events - it would be quite logical for everyone to gather together for mutual protection."

"As long as we lock up the sprogs," wizarding Fred said. "If they notice what's going on, the jig will be up."

"We can probably bribe them with pudding or something, but… unless we obliviate them, they'll keep bringing it up - we would've at their age," his brother added. "So we should really ensure that they are safely asleep before we switch."

"That shouldn't be a problem since we won't strike until it's night," Hermione said.

"You don't know your darling Beatrice," wizarding George told her with a grin that somehow managed to be both proud and rueful.

"I'm sure that, between us, we can come up with a way to at least keep a group of children safely in their rooms," Hermione retorted.

The twins weren't convinced, though.

"That's what we keep thinking."

"And yet they keep proving us wrong."

"I think I have a plan for that as well," Dumbledore said with a wide smile.

"You never had kids, did you?" wizarding George asked.

"No. But I am something of an expert on bribing people." The old man tilted his head. "And I've yet to hear about a child who doesn't love new toys. Especially if they're told that they can't have them yet."

Oh. That would work, Ron thought. Nothing like presenting troublesome children - like Fred and George - with a challenge to keep them too busy to cause real trouble.

"And who's going to impersonate me?" Hermione asked. "Ginny?"

"I think Mrs Potter would be best to impersonate Mrs Weasley," Dumbledore said.

Hermione frowned at that, then glared at the twins. "First, the portrait, now one of you?"

"Oi! We know better than to abuse this, you know?" Wizarding Fred scowled right back.

"That would jeopardise the entire mission, wouldn't it?" his brother added.

Then they both smiled. "But we know perfectly well what an annoyed Hermione looks like - we annoyed her often enough when she was a wee little prefect. And we've seen the older you often enough as well," wizarding George said. "It's not as if we need to give a speech - though we could give a lecture, I think. All we really have to do is glare at anyone disturbing us as we read a thick tome."

"Yes, exactly like that!" his brother exclaimed, pointing at Hermione.

"Very funny," she retorted through clenched teeth. "But you couldn't imitate me well enough to fool anyone like Croaker."

"I think we could fool him - as long as we avoid talking to him for any length of time," wizarding Fred countered. "You've never talked to him when you were angry, have you?"

Hermione pressed her lips together before admitting: "No, I haven't."

He smiled. "As we thought. He won't have a baseline for you when angry - unlike everyone who was at Hogwarts during your prefectency!"

"Is that actually a word?" his brother asked.

"I just used it, so of course it is!"

"It won't be that easy," Hermione warned them. "He's good at talking and sounding you out. Very good."

"Without false modesty, so am I - and I'd wager that I have a lot more experience than Mr Croaker," Dumbledore said.

"But Mr Croaker has met me before," Ron pointed out.

"But did he pay attention to you? To a mere muggle? More than to avoid giving offence?" Dumbledore's smile grew a little as he tilted his head.

"He paid attention to both of us."

"And how much did you talk?"

Not overly much, Ron had to admit. Not that he had to say so, since Dumbledore took his short hesitation as agreement. "Quite. I will run interference - provided Mr Croaker shows up in person at all and doesn't send some agents of his to check up on us under a pretext."

"If he does that at all," Hermione said, still scowling a little. "He doesn't know where we supposedly live and has no reason to expect that we're staying with the Weasleys. Certainly not if he suspects us to be behind the incident - which is the whole reason we are preparing this charade."

"Oh, but he could easily make up a sufficiently convincing reason for needing an urgent meeting with two of Britain's most skilled Curse-Breakers," the old spymaster replied. "If, as I suspect, he is looking for leverage on you, Dr Granger. He is, without a doubt, aware of how loyal you are to your friends - and Mr and Mrs Weasley are, as Curse-Breakers of renown, obvious friends you'd ask for help with whatever it is that he thinks you're planning."

"And if he isn't?" Hermione asked, staring at the old man.

"Then we'll have wasted some very expensive potions." Dumbledore smiled. "And enjoyed a whole new experience."

Of course the old spymaster would profit from the plan either way.

Ron cleared his throat. "That's all well and good, but we may be facing an island full of additional guards. With the Ministry expecting a new war, they might pull out all the stops. With just the four of us - and me not even able to see Dementors - on the island, that might be too much."

"We could impersonate a patrol," Hermione suggested. "And I doubt that they can spare too many guards - they'll probably trust that the wards will gain them enough time to send reinforcements. On brooms, I suppose, since the ferry would be too slow. And still on the island."

That sounded reassuring. A little, at least.

"We could create a fake Dementor, and draw them off to one side of the island!" wizarding Fred blurted out.

"Yes," his brother chimed in. "It shouldn't be too difficult to use a few conjurations, a charm to keep them floating, another for the cold aura… mental effects are more difficult, but I think in this case, the island is depressing enough already."

"And then someone sends a Patronus at it, and the fake Dementor ignores it?" Hermione shook her head. "You shouldn't waste time on something like that when we only have half a day at most to get ready for the mission!"

"We could do it. If we get lucky on the first try. Tries," wizarding Fred insisted.

"You need to study your roles first," Hermione told them. "That's more important."

"Oh, but we know Bill inside and out - we grew up together!" the wizard retorted.

"And Fleur?"

Fred's counterpart opened his mouth, then closed it again. Ron wondered what he had been about to say.

"Then I think that the matter has been settled and we have a mission for which to prepare," Dumbledore said, beaming at them. "I took the liberty of acquiring Polyjuice Potion already, through inconspicuous channels that, I assure you, won't be traced back to us."

"You sent Healer Rosengarten to Germany, didn't you?" Ron guessed.

"Precisely!" Dumbledore nodded at him. "Good deduction, Mr Weasley."

"Thank you. We should have a sledge and diving gear in the base, right?"

"Yes, we do - it has come in useful, hasn't it?"

"You want to use muggle gear?" Wizarding Fred looked surprised.

"At least as a backup," Ron told him. "Just in case something happens to the Bubble-Head Charm - I can't recast it, after all."

"But you could eat some Gillyweed!"

"And be stuck for an hour underwater?" Ron shook his head.

"Oh, you know about it?"

"We've used it before," Hermione told them.

Ron nodded - it had been a hairy situation, back then. Not one of his fondest moments.

"Neat!"

Not that he'd tell the twins that. He knew better.

"And who's going to tell Luna?" Hermione asked just as everyone was about to get up.

*****​

Unnamed Highlands, Scotland, April 28th, 2006

"No! The entire village? The children too? At St Mungo's? Suffering from nightmares?"

Ron winced at the expression on wizarding Luna's face. The witch looked shocked as she shook her head, her lips moving without forming any words.

"Aren't they overreacting?" Luna asked. "They shouldn't have suffered anything worse than a nightmare. As far as we know, anyway."

"Well…" Ron sighed. "The Healers don't know that. And they fear that this was an attempt to place hidden compulsions in the minds of the villagers."

"But if they're still suffering from nightmares…" Wizarding Luna sniffled.

Oh, no. A crying Luna would be… very bad.

"Well, it was probably a traumatic experience," Hermione said. "The entire village being evacuated en masse, being sent to St Mungo's, possibly isolated from others… it's natural to have nightmares after such an ordeal. That doesn't mean there's something magical going on."

"That doesn't matter! We need to get Snappy and help those people - he can eat their nightmares!" wizarding Luna exclaimed.

The whole thing had started with Snappy, Ron reminded himself. "Fred and George - the other Fred and George, not my brothers - say they tested their gas, so it shouldn't cause multiple nightmares. And neither St Mungo's nor the DMLE found any lingering remains of the gas."

"But we didn't test what regurgitated nightmare fragments do," wizarding Luna retorted. "If they stick, changed by Snappy's ethereal stomach acid…"

"It's been less than a day," Hermione said. "Most of the victims won't have slept yet. And a few nightmares are perfectly normal and nothing to fret over."

"How can you say that?" Wizarding Luna gasped again.

"Each of us agreed to cause a few selected targets to have nightmares, didn't we?" Hermione frowned.

"But only them, not the entire village! We might have traumatised an entire generation!" Wizarding Luna shook her head again. "We need to fix this!"

"Well, the Minister looked pretty traumatised when he came to the conclusion that this might have been the work of a new organisation of dark wizards," Ron commented.

"Serves him right," Luna replied. "But the villagers suffering because of our mistake…"

"Yes! We need to make amends!"

"Wait, wait, wait!" Hermione held up her hand. "You can't just rush off. If you arrive with the Dream Eater, they'll immediately suspect it was you."

"And they might have abrasive traces from Snappy's rocks to compare," Ron pointed out.

"No!"

"Yes."

"We need to get those traces replaced by dummy samples," Luna said.

"We need to help the children!"

"We need a plan. A good plan - thought through. No more hasty improvisations!" Hermione put her hand down on the table she had conjured for this talk. With a glance at wizarding Luna, she added: "No rushing off without our agreement."

"But…"

"Rushing off caused this debacle; we need to carefully plan how to fix it," she told her friend.

And they needed to keep Luna from revealing the whole affair - intentionally or not. "And we need to know if there are lingering nightmares. That means waiting at least one night," Ron said.

"But…"

"That's right," Luna agreed. "It's tragic what happened, but we need more information to plan our response. As I've told you, information is key." She looked back towards the area containing the habitats. "Besides, isn't Snappy still full from your nightmare?"

"Oh, yes…" Wizarding Luna nodded, rather reluctantly in Ron's opinion.

"Luna! Did you use the gas on yourself?"

"Snappy had regurgitated every single nightmare he had eaten! I had to feed him!" the witch defended herself.

No wonder she had looked so shaken, Ron thought. First a nightmare, then the feeding…. He shuddered. "You need more rest, I think - you can't help anyone like this."

"But I want to help!"

"We all want to help," Hermione told her. "But we need to be smart about this."

"Alright…" Wizarding Luna pouted but agreed.

Ron almost sighed with relief. This could've completely wrecked their plans.

"Alright. We'll go back to our world," Hermione said. "They'll be expecting to find us there soon - we need to be ready before night falls."

"Yes. And you need to break into Azkaban, don't you?"

Luna smiled at their reaction. She had always been too perceptive, Ron knew.

*****​

It hadn't taken too long to convince the Lunas that they couldn't tag along to Azkaban. It had cost them a promise to let wizarding Luna examine the Dementor to her heart's content, but that was a small price to pay, in Ron's opinion - the witch was an expert on magical creatures, after all, and might be very helpful.

If she could stand being so close to a Dementor.

"That wasn't our finest hour," Hermione complained as they stood outside the hidden base.

"I thought we handled the situation well," Ron objected.

"I didn't mean this visit; I meant the distraction."

"Oh. Yes." He nodded.

Hermione started walking towards the next hill. Ron followed her after a moment of confusion. "I don't suppose we're going to walk back."

She snorted. "No, we're not. I'm just… I need a moment." She sighed, staring at the hill. "We shouldn't have rushed things," she said. "There was no need for it; not when we had a plan for such a distraction."

"To be fair, if things had gone according to plan, people wouldn't have discovered what had happened until a few days later - probably," he retorted.

"But planning for things to go perfectly is not a good idea," Hermione pointed out. "We need contingency plans. Scripts for when things go wrong."

"That would presume that we could anticipate events such as the one we caused," Ron replied. "I don't think anyone could've foreseen what happened last night." He blinked. "And that sounds like the opening of a bad movie." He imitated a hammy narrator.

She laughed at that, which made him feel better. But she grew serious far too quickly. "This time, we need to be better prepared. If we bungle this…"

He nodded. Azkaban wouldn't be a forgiving environment. Not at all.

*****​

She ducked - letting herself fall on to the ground, behind a big sculpted rock. A moment later, a spell flew overhead. Damn!

"The garden route is blocked!" she shouted towards the terrace, where her friends were fighting.

"It's supposed to be open!" Ron yelled.

"Tell that to the enemy!" Hermione yelled back. "They didn't get the memo." Just as they also hadn't gotten the memo about not being in the living room when the three of them had tried to break in.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Ron laughed as he jumped over the railing and dashed towards her. Another spell missed him by inches, and a second threw up the gravel in front of him.

And then he rolled behind the rock, ending up on her side. "Spotted them?"

"They're in the woods. Shifting positions," she replied. At least that was what she assumed they were doing - it was what she would be doing in their place. 'Rocks or running on the battlefield', as the saying in the wizarding combat instruction manual Harry had found went.

"Alright!" Ron took a deep breath. "Let's make a hole in the enemy lines for ourselves and Harry."

She nodded, a little shakily, she realised with a frown. She wouldn't let her friends down. "Let's go."

"On three. One. Two. Three!"

They slid around each side of the rock, sending spells into the woods ahead. A few smoking craters would help obscure them, and then...

A red spell hit Ron, shattering his shield. A second red spell followed before he could recast it - or find cover - and he collapsed. She gasped - which cost her dearly as her own Shield Charm was ended by a barrage of curses and she found herself bound with magical ropes.

Harry was their last hope!

A moment later, Harry, trussed up like she was, landed between her and Ron.

And she heard Sirius and Remus laugh. Mostly Sirius.

"That was the most pathetic training exercise I've ever seen. Your plan wasn't working, and you had no backup plan, yet you didn't retreat."

She closed her eyes and clenched her teeth. It wasn't as if she could do much else right then.

*****​

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 72: The Heist

Black Lake, Scotland, April 28th, 2006

"Ah, welcome back! How did the Misses Lovegood take the news?" Dumbledore asked as soon as Ron and Hermione stepped into the portal room, where the old man was standing by a crate with all four twins and Ginny. No, with Ginny's counterpart - Ginny wouldn't be caught dead in public wearing old jeans and an older sweater. Unless she was posing for a gardening magazine cover, which had happened once. Mum still had a copy - she'd framed it and hung it in the garden shed.

"As expected. Though we managed to convince Luna not to rush the Dream Eater to St Mungo's to deal with the nightmares caused by our mistake," Hermione told him. "Which, incidentally, could be a novel form of treatment for some curses, I suppose."

"Wouldn't that lead to people hunting Dream Eaters to capture them for clinics?" Ron asked.

"Judging by the nature of humanity in general, I would assume so," Dumbledore replied. "One more argument against Miss Lovegood's suggested course of action, I believe."

"Yes." Hermione was pursing her lips - probably angry she hadn't thought of that when they had been talking to the Lunas.

Ron smiled at her until she smiled back, albeit weakly. She really needed to loosen up a little. Not that their current troubles made that easy - or likely.

"Harry told me that the Ministry's going crazy," wizarding Ginny spoke up. "He didn't have to make up a reason to send the ferry to Azkaban tonight - the Minister insisted on doubling the guards there. Here's the schedule." She handed a sheet of parchment to Hermione.

Ron peered over her shoulder. Nine o'clock in the evening. That sounded almost too convenient. "Could this be a trap?"

"Possibly, yes," Dumbledore replied. "Likely? I don't think so, although I have to admit I cannot offer any degree of certainty. But we will have ample time to search for a trap before the ferry leaves, something Mr Croaker would be aware of. More importantly, the chances of you escaping from the cove are much higher than you managing the same in Azkaban, for obvious reasons, so if he intends to catch you or even to merely identify you to gain leverage, his odds of success are much higher if he waits until you've actually broken into the prison. Nevertheless, as always, it behoves us to be vigilant and cautious."

"Of course," Hermione said. "What about your preparations?"

"The crate's full of toys!" Fred replied - he was already wearing his counterpart's clothes, Ron noticed. "More LEGO than I have ever seen in one place, toy cars and planes and stuffed animals of all kinds!"

It sounded as if Ron's brothers had had to be restrained to keep them from nicking half the toys for themselves.

"Gellert wanted to include some toy tanks, but I put my foot down," Dumbledore added.

"Good." Hermione nodded firmly. "You don't want the kids to play World War in the living room."

Ron frowned. "Why not? We did that." His box full of carefully painted 8th Army toy soldiers was still in the attic at home, somewhere.

"You didn't have easy ways to make things explode, though, did you?" she shot back.

Ron raised his eyebrows at her, then looked at his brothers.

"Oh." Hermione pressed her lips together.

"Oi! We never set the garden on fire while playing war," Fred protested. "All our explosions were carefully contained. Or not big enough."

"It was the space shuttle that we built which caused that," George added. "We picked the wrong fuel for our model. It was more like a flamethrower."

"LEGOs, cars and stuffed animals sound safe," Ron said. Kids couldn't enchant them until they got their wands, could they? And all the kids in the extended wizarding Weasley families were far too young for that.

"And, as planned, we'll tell the kids that they can't have the toys until the next day. That should motivate them to focus on breaking into the attic and grabbing the toys over the course of the evening," Dumbledore added.

"Yes," wizarding Ginny agreed. With a nod to the twins, she added: "They already made bets on how long it would take the kids to get the toys."

Ron chuckled at that, but, after a glance at Hermione's deep frown, refrained from making a bet himself. The twins would probably cheat, anyway.

"Then I think it's time to get the hair samples we need from the people present. Mr and Mrs Weasley should arrive soon for the mission briefing," Dumbledore said.

*****​

"...and then the team boards the ferry and uses it to exfiltrate," Dumbledore said.

"The ferry will be guarded," Hermione pointed out.

"Nothing a surprise attack can't handle," wizarding Bill replied.

"Yes. Those Aurors and Hit-Wizards are generally not the best," Fleur added. "We saw that in Hogsmeade."

"But they didn't expect an attack there," Hermione retorted. "Now that they fear a second Voldemort, they'll be on their guard."

"No doubt about it," Dumbledore said. "But they will have been on the ferry or the pier for hours - cold, tired and with the threat of the Dementors looming over them. They won't be fresh and alert. Not in the middle of the night." He shook his head.

"They could use magic to keep alert." Hermione wasn't letting this go easily, but Ron couldn't tell whether she was convinced of the risks or just trying to find a fault in a plan she hadn't made.

"That usually doesn't work out well, at least not for Curse-Breakers," wizarding Bill replied. "Pepper-Up Potions keep you awake, but you crash hard after a few hours. And if you take more, you start to feel the effects. Lost a few co-workers who thought they could work through the night and beat the competition to a grave chamber."

"That doesn't mean that Aurors or Hit-Wizards wouldn't use the potion, though," Ron pointed out, "if they can sleep the next day." He spread his hands.

"And what if they get attacked the next day?" wizarding Bill countered. "I can't see Harry and Ron allowing it."

"And we know everyone always follows the rules," Hermione commented with obvious sarcasm.

Fleur giggled, though wizarding Bill shook his head. "They might - but would they want to be dead to the world while resting on Azkaban? When everyone is afraid of a nightmare attack?"

That was a good point. Ron nodded in acknowledgement.

"Precisely. And the kind of fool who would nevertheless risk using such a potion doesn't strike me as the kind of wizard or witch who would pose a threat - or even a challenge - to you," Dumbledore said.

"We can't underestimate them, though," Hermione countered. "But I agree, it doesn't seem likely that we'll face significant opposition at the ferry - provided that we manage to avoid being detected until then. If the alarm is raised, though, we'll have problems."

"In that case, we'll go underwater and work our way through the wards the hard way," wizarding Bill said.

"We're talking about the wards of Azkaban," Hermione reminded him. "Some of the oldest protections in Wizarding Britain."

"Yes. Wards pretty much every Curse-Breaker worth their salt has checked out at least once." Wizarding Bill's grin was the same grin Ron's brother wore when he talked about high-risk trading. "And the wards on the island are the ones that keep people away, not the ones that keep people inside. Those wards are on the prison itself. We can handle the wards on the island, trust me."

"And how long would that take you?" Ron asked.

"Oh… I'd say… half a day, tops?" the wizard shrugged.

Ron snorted. That sounded a little optimistic. "So long, underwater?" They could duplicate the oxygen bottles, but… He shook his head. "That'd be a nasty trip."

"But we'd manage," wizarding Bill told him. "And that's only if they sound the alert - which is a big if. But if you think it's too dangerous, a distraction on the mainland would draw people away, I think."

"But then they would use the ferry, wouldn't they?" Ron asked.

"Yes, but I'd think they'd only use it to leave the island, then use Apparition to reach the Ministry. Otherwise, they'd be far too slow," Hermione pointed out.

"A worthy addition to the plan, then - I think it should be easy for an associate of mine to create a little havoc in Wizarding Britain."

Ron nodded. Rosengarten would probably enjoy that, given the Healer's past.

"However, your associate does need to be very careful," Hermione said. "As we know, the Ministry is on high alert. They will deploy in large numbers at the first sign of trouble."

"Which is exactly what we want," Dumbledore said, smiling. "So… are there any other points to cover?"

Ron shook his head. That was about it. He knew his role - steer the underwater sledge and take care of the diving gear, then stand guard underwater, where the Dementors couldn't sneak up on him. Monsters he couldn't even see - wouldn't even notice while they killed him, if they were to catch him.

He suppressed a shudder. He'd sleep better once those creatures were extinct.

*****​

The Burrow, Ottery St Catchpole, Devon, Britain, Wizarding World, April 28th, 2006

"Oh, toys! Gifts! Gimme!"

"Toys!"

"Yes!"

"Children! Behave!"

Ron smiled at the sight. When it came down to it, wizarding kids behaved just like muggle kids when faced with a chest full of new toys. Although they had been a little sceptical at first - until Ron had opened the chest and let them catch a glimpse of its contents.

And then he'd had to make a hasty retreat before he got trampled (and probably mugged) by a bunch of shrieking munchkins. Victoire, Beatrice, Jean and James were faster than he had expected.

"It's getting late, and you need your sleep," Mrs Weasley went on. "You can play with the new toys tomorrow."

"Mais! The toys are here now!" Victoire protested.

"No! You can't do that!" James apparently was a little dramatic as he gasped loudly.

"That's unfair! Cruel and unfair!" As was Jean - well, they were the kids of Ginny's counterpart. "It's torture!" Definitely the children of some universe's Ginny.

"What about a small toy now?" Beatrice smiled winningly at her grandmother. "Each?"

"No. You need your sleep, and if I give you a new toy now, you'll be playing all night!" Mrs Weasley replied.

It was obvious that the kids didn't think that that would be a bad thing - their mulish, sullen expressions betrayed them. Then they started to cry.

But Mrs Weasley wouldn't be moved. Well, after raising wizarding versions of the twins, she would be wise to all such ploys - Mum certainly wasn't easily fooled by anyone, much less little kids. That didn't count the grandkids' advantage, though - unlike in this world, the Weasleys still hadn't provided Mum with grandkids to spoil.

Beatrice tried a new tack. "But the toys aren't yours - they're Uncle Ron's!"

"Yes!" James agreed. "And he can decide!"

"Please, Uncle Ron!"

"Please!"

"S'il-vous plaît!"

Staring at their hopeful, shining faces, Ron felt terrible having to disappoint them. Even reminding himself that this was the plan didn't help. "Sorry," he said. "It's Gran's house, and her rules apply."

"We could leave!" Beatrice told him at once.

"Outside is free!" James added.

"No, you're staying here," Mrs Weasley bellowed. "Have you forgotten about the monsters? Do you want to end up in St Mungo's?"

The kids winced and looked down. Ron winced as well - this was his fault. Partially, at least.

"The toys will be stored in the attic, guarded by our ghoul! And if you complain again, it's no dessert for you!" Mrs Weasley laid down the law.

All four kids shut up at once.

"We'll be good!" Beatrice said. She was lying, of course. But planning their heist - and waiting for wizarding Ron and Lavender's kids to join them - should keep them busy until Ron and the others could make the switch.

Just as planned.

*****​

Cove near Filey, Yorkshire, Britain, Wizarding World, April 28th, 2006

The Ministry had improved the security of the boathouse, Ron saw at once when he switched his night vision gear on. Two Hit-Wizards outside, doing rounds. Well, they were walking around, at least - they didn't look like the sharpest guards in the country, to say the least. But according to their information, two more would be waiting inside the boathouse. Together with the wards on the place, that was decent protection. All the guards really had to do was to alert the Ministry and then hunker down inside until relief arrived.

Too bad for them that Ron's friends had no intention of actually attacking them. "Two outside. No one else I could see," he reported. "No one near the water." At least not outside the boathouse.

"No one hiding nearby," wizarding Bill said.

No one he had spotted, at least. But with his spell, he wouldn't have missed invisible wizards.

"Good. Let's suit up and get into the water. We've got half an hour left before the ferry is scheduled to depart," Hermione announced.

This was the part of the plan Ron had some misgivings about: Wizarding Bill and Fleur had no training in scuba diving at all. And he wasn't exactly a diving instructor. Having Bubble-Head Charms as a last resort was reassuring, but it remained a risk. At least Fleur was sufficiently apprehensive - her husband was far too confident, in Ron's opinion.

But they wouldn't have to do anything other than let the sledge, and later the ferry, drag them behind - which was easy enough, as Ron knew from experience. As long as the gear worked.

Hermione was already stripping off her clothes, so Ron helped her don the wetsuit. Normally, a trip of this length would require a drysuit to avoid dying from hypothermia, but with magic, it wasn't needed. Ron would still have preferred a drysuit - but he wasn't really trained in them, either.

Fifteen minutes later, everyone was suited up, and their respirators had been checked. Time to get the sledge into the water and find a good spot to intercept the ferry. Which, given that they would be underwater, shouldn't be much of a challenge.

No, he reminded himself, no underestimating the dangers of a dive. That was a good way to end up dead in the water. Even if this one was rather easy.

"Alright," he said. "Let's get in the water." He looked at Hermione, but she was already levitating the sledge. She floated it over the rocky beach and lowered it into the sea.

Ron smiled back at her, suppressing the brief envy he felt. Magic. It made things so easy. "Alright," he repeated before entering the water himself. "Wait while I check the sledge."

He didn't find anything wrong with it - not that he would've expected the thing to have developed problems in the few hours since he had last checked it, but you never assumed, you always checked. Moody had driven that lesson home with vigour - the old man hadn't been above sabotaging their equipment.

But the sledge was running fine. "Come on," he told the others. "Let's get you hooked up."

Two minutes later, they were all underwater, headed to the mouth of the cove. His diving watch - mechanical, of course, or it wouldn't work inside the magical protections - showed that they had five minutes left. That was cutting it a little close, even though the wizards would probably take a little more time than scheduled to leave the boathouse.

But they reached the spot in time, and the less time they spent in the water, the better, Ron thought.

As he had thought, the wizards were late - the scheduled departure time came and no ferry arrived. Minutes passed, and still no ferry. He could see the others, but he couldn't talk to them. He couldn't do anything but wait patiently. Or not so patiently. What was taking them so long?

Had there been a change in plans? Should he resurface? But he'd have to leave the cove to check the radio, and that would…

There! He could see the shape of the ferry - the hull - coming towards them. He tapped Hermione's thigh to warn her, then turned and signalled the others before starting up the sledge - he had to time this perfectly. Intercepting the ferry was a little tricky - he had to come up from directly below it, so the passengers couldn't spot them.

Matching speed was easy, but the ferry wasn't going straight - it was swerving slightly. Was the pilot drunk, or what? Ron bit down harder on the respirator's mouthpiece and wrestled with the sledge's controls as he adjusted their course once more. Almost… He silently swore. He had to risk it, or they'd lose the ferry as soon as it reached the open sea and sped up.

Keeping his eyes on the hull above him, trying to anticipate its movement. If the ferry changed course again, at just this moment…

They reached the hull, and he almost sighed with relief as the suction cups moved upwards, sticking the sledge to the hull. Another moment of uncertainty - would the cups stick? Or would the enchantments on the hull repel them? But he felt the tug on the sledge as the ferry started to pick up speed, and they were dragged with it.

They had done it. He had done it.

Now all they had to do was to wait until they arrived at Azkaban. Which would take them quite a while. And they would spend the time in darkness, hiding below the ferry, unable to talk to each other or do much of anything other than think.

*****​

Azkaban, North Sea, Wizarding World, April 28th, 2006

Ron only realised that they had arrived when he saw the light appear ahead of them. That was the lantern at the end of the pier - and it was bright enough to even reach into the water. Time to detach the sledge, then.

He twisted a little, tapping Hermione on the thigh, then the others on their heads, before pushing the button the wizarding twins had glued - stuck - to the sledge. A moment later, the sledge was free and started to sink to the bottom - just as planned; they couldn't risk being spotted near the surface of the water.

Ron kept an eye on his watch as he guided the sledge towards the seabed. The deeper the better, but the longer they stayed at this depth, the more they would have to wait while resurfacing. The bends affected wizards as well as muggles, after all.

So he quickly steered the sledge down, then to the side and back to the surface once they were sufficiently far from the pier. A last check of the diving watch confirmed it: There was no need for a depressurisation break. Ron still took a small one, just to be safe.

Then he surfaced, sticking his head above the water. The night vision gear wouldn't work, so he didn't even unpack it, but it was bright enough that he could make out the island's rocky coastline.

That was Azkaban, alright.

Hermione surfaced next to him, her wild hair hidden under a diving cowl, followed by wizarding Bill and Fleur.

"We need to get closer to the shore," Hermione said. "And we need a landmark so we can find you easily."

Ron pointed at a jagged spire protruding from the cliff ahead - like a giant fishing hook. "There!"

Hermione studied it for a moment, then nodded. "Distinctive enough. Let's go!"

Ron nodded and dived down again. Indeed, he thought as he steered the sledge towards the spire, there's no need to stay here a moment longer than needed.

They reached the spire, and after a brief struggle with an unexpected current, Ron managed to park the sledge in a nook just below the surface - close enough that he could sit on it and keep his head above the water.

Hermione, wizarding Bill and Fleur were already eyeing the cliff ahead. "Brooms," Hermione ordered.

A moment later, they were pulling out and unshrinking their brooms.

"Stay below the cliff," wizarding Bill told the two witches, "until we can check for patrols."

The two women agreed and faded from view as they cast Disillusionment Charms.

With the wind battering the sea and spire, Ron didn't notice when the others left.

*****​

Sirius had been correct, Ron thought some time later. A soldier's life was mostly waiting. He wasn't exactly a soldier, but the principle applied to him as well. He had spent much more time waiting - for the ferry, for their arrival and now for the others to return - than actually doing anything.

And yet, he had done what he could. As a muggle, he was useless when facing the Dementors - if he had accompanied them, he would've been a liability; they would have to protect him from those monsters.

He knew it, yet he still wanted to be with them. He felt like a coward, hiding in the water - where the Dementors couldn't reach him - while Hermione and her friends risked their lives on the island. He wanted to be more than a driver.

He snorted at his own hypocrisy - what had he told Ginny when she had complained about her own role? He was the only one who could handle the sledge competently, after all. But, if they didn't have the sledge, there was a magical alternative. Perhaps a little less safe, or more inconvenient, but by no means impractical.

He sighed. He wasn't even near the Dementors, and he was already feeling depressed. Well, at least they made good scapegoats.

And yet… he checked his watch. The others were taking their time. Had they ran into trouble? The coin in his pocket hadn't vibrated, so they should be fine… or they had been taken out or killed without Hermione being able to activate her own coin to warn him.

He looked at the cliff nearby. He could climb up - it would be difficult, but he could do it. The rocks offered enough foot- and handholds, and he had the climbing gear he'd need. But he would be helpless against the Dementors.

No. They were fine. They had to be. He just had to be patient. Stick to the plan.

Then he felt the coin vibrate. Once. Twice. Three times.

The signal - the others had managed to capture a Dementor and were on their way to the pier, to hijack the boat.

He pulled on his mask and respirator and dived. It would take a while to reach the pier with the sledge. Not too long, though - no need to rush things.

Once more, he had to struggle with the currents around the spire, and he had to resurface twice to get his bearings before he spotted the lantern on the pier. But where were the others? That was a HIt-Wizard standing beneath the lantern.

Damn. If the wizard spotted Ron… As worked up as the Aurors and Hit-Wizards were after Hogsmeade, the wizard would probably try to kill Ron right away. Or, worse, alert the rest of the island.

As a matter of fact, the wizard looked quite alert already - his wand was out, and he kept turning as he looked around. That wasn't how a bored guard behaved. Had the others triggered an alert? But Hermione wouldn't betray him by trying to lure him into an ambush. Even if she were under a spell, she'd be smarter about it.

But he couldn't just wait in the water. If something had happened to the others…

A red spell hit the Hit-Wizard, and the man collapsed, out cold. Another flash, at the same time, struck something at the base of the stairs leading up the cliff from the pier - both guards were out, then. That must be the work of Hermione and the others.

Ron gunned the engine of the sledge and rode it towards the pier even before he saw three figures descend from the air and land there: Hermione, wizarding Bill and Fleur. They were wearing full face masks. Ron had to trust his diving mask to conceal his identity. He waved at them as he reached the pier, next to the ferry. Where was the Dementor? Had they failed?

Hermione turned to the two others. "We'll clean up here, fetch the Dementor!"

Wizarding Bill and Fleur nodded and mounted their brooms again, flying off, as Ron climbed up on to the pier. "What happened?" he asked.

"We got it," Hermione replied - terse. Terser than he would have expected. It must have been harder than she had expected.

"Good." What else could he say?

She levitated the two stunned Hit-Wizards to the side of the pier.

"Any trouble with patrols?" he asked as he rolled them on to their sides - he didn't know if it was needed with stunned wizards, but it wouldn't hurt them.

"None. There were no patrols," she replied. "As far as I can tell, these two are the only guards outside the prison."

"Except for the Dementors," he told her.

"Yes. Except for them." She shivered, and he had to restrain himself from hugging her.

"How many were there?" He looked around. He didn't see any Dementors, but he couldn't see them anyway.

"Too many. The guards have no idea how many Dementors are on the island - we must have seen more outside than the Ministry claims exist in total!"

Ron shuddered at the thought. "That must have been terrible."

"We managed."

Barely, probably. He frowned - what was keeping the others? They wouldn't have left the Dementor too far back, would they?

Hermione climbed into the ferry, waving her wand, then pointing it at the tiller. "It looks like we'll have to use the sledge to pull the ferry," she said.

Ron nodded. That had been the plan anyway. He looked around again - where were the others? He wanted to leave this cursed island immediately - he could almost feel the cold seeping into his bones, as if… He blinked. That wasn't his imagination - he was feeling cold. Unnaturally cold.

"Dementors!" he snapped.

Hermione looked up and gasped. "Oh, no! Ron, come here! Run!"

He didn't hesitate - he sprinted towards her. Away from whatever invisible soul-eating monsters were currently trying to kill him.

"Expecto Patronum!"

A silvery otter shot past him, and the cold receded a little. The Dementors must have been even closer than he had feared, he realised. Far too close. Shivering, he jumped into the ferry, almost falling down in the moving boat, and turned. "They can't float over water, right?"

Hermione nodded, lips pressed together as her spell danced over the pier. "Not over longer stretches of open water. But I wouldn't trust the distance here."

Great. "How many are there?"

"Two dozen," she replied, breathing heavily. Was maintaining the spell tiring her out? Or was it just the stress?

"I guess they didn't like you snatching one of them," he half-joked - but he knew they were in a desperate situation. So many Dementors, trying to get to them...

"I guess not," she replied, flicking her wand.

In response, the otter flew towards them - and then swerved and started circling the aft of the ferry - no, herding something away from the unconscious guards, Ron realised. He sighed with relief - they could do this. They could hold the Dementors at bay. The monsters wouldn't… Oh! "How close were they?"

"Too close."

That explained his mood. He drew his gun.

"That won't kill them."

"I know." But it made him feel better. And that would help resist the Dementors. "Where are the others?"

"I don't know. They should've been back already!" Hermione snapped. The Dementors must be getting to her as well.

And that meant… Damn. Ron climbed back on to the pier.

"What are you doing?"

What was he doing? He was useless. A mere muggle. Weak. A liability. He couldn't even see the monsters…

Ron clenched his teeth and shook his head. No, he was better than that. He wasn't useless. He had no magic, but he had his wits.

And explosives.

"Get the Patronus to clear the pier ahead of me!" he yelled.

"What?"

But the otter flew over to Ron and then started circling back and forth in front of him.

Ron took a deep breath. He could do this. He knew what to do.

He moved forward behind the Patronus until he was halfway to the island. Then he knelt down and pulled out the plastic explosives from his pockets. And started to place them on the underside of the pier.

"That's crazy!"

"Not if it works," he yelled back.

"What about the detonators?"

In response, he lit the fuse and started to run back to the ferry.

"How close did you cut it?" Hermione all but screamed, ducking already.

"We've got a minute or so left," he replied. He simply hadn't wanted to stay any longer than strictly necessary so close to the Dementors. But telling her that would make him appear like a coward, so he didn't.

"How much did you use?"

"Enough to wreck the pier," he replied. "Unless there are spells on it that protect it." Which, he realised, was not entirely unlikely.

"There aren't - the Ministry only cast those on the prison itself," Hermione replied.

"Really?"

Whatever she had been about to tell him was drowned out by half the pier vanishing in an explosion. Fragments of wood and stone flew every which way, smaller ones pelting the ferry - Ron ducked behind the railing before he realised that Hermione had cast a Shield Charm in front of them.

He rose and stared at the rapidly vanishing dust and smoke cloud. Had it been enough? Or had he messed up?

Half the pier was missing - there were about a yard and a half left at the bottom of the stairs, leaving a gap about six yards wide. Almost exactly like planned. "Where are the Dementors?" he asked.

"Gathered at the bottom of the stairs," Hermione replied. She laughed, once, then shook her head. "I should've thought of that."

"You're not fond enough of wanton destruction," he told her.

She snorted at that, then grew serious. "But where are B… the others?"

He had no idea, but before he could tell her that, a fireball exploded on the top of the cliff ahead of them. The explosion's light disappeared before he could make out any details. He still aimed his gun at the top the cliff, anyway.

Until he heard the shrieking. Inhuman, high-pitched shrieking that made him freeze up and shudder for a moment. "What the…?"

More fireballs burst on the cliff's top.

"That's Fleur! She must have transformed!" Hermione snapped next to him. "Down here!" she yelled, louder.

But the Veela either didn't hear her or wasn't listening, as even more fireballs rained down on the island above.

"I'm going to fetch her!" Hermione said, pulling out her broom and unshrinking it. "Stay here!"

Well, it wasn't as if he could go anywhere without a wizard, could he? You needed a wand to operate the vessel, and trying to pass through the wardline by himself…

But she was already off, rising in the air, and he quickly lost sight of her. Great. At least he was safe on the remains of the peer. No Dementor would be able to approach.

He shuddered. If they could, he'd be swarmed before he realised it. He rubbed his arms for a moment. Just the thought of it made him feel cold. No… this was more. This was a Dementor. Somewhere close. But where?

Ron waved his gun around without spotting anything. He was helpless here. Easy prey for a monster he couldn't even see or hear. Damn. Damn. He clenched his teeth, shaking his head, as he shivered, blindly flailing his arms around in case a Dementor was already on top of him. This couldn't…

No! He was better than that. How could a Dementor have reached him? They couldn't float over water, and they avoided it - as he had just confirmed earlier, when he had blown the pier in two.

But… what if they couldn't avoid the water? What if they were thrown into it? By, say, an explosion? What if one of the monsters was floating in the sea nearby?

Shuddering, he forced himself to climb back on to the pier. He needed to find it - but the only way to do so was to walk around and discover where he felt worst. He grabbed a Mars bar - chocolate would help, or so he'd been told - but then put it back. He needed to feel the effects of the Dementor to find it.

He shook his head at the thought, suppressing a sob. This was crazy. And it would hurt. But it was the only thing he could do.

So he started walking around the edge of the pier, shivering and shuddering, remembering all his mistakes and faults. How stupid he had been. How stupid he was. How…

He clenched his teeth. Focus! He needed to focus! Where was the worst spot?

He almost vomited on the pier, but he managed to walk the edge - twice. And he found the worst spot: right by the pillar on which the lantern was mounted. He lay prone on the pier, then couldn't help it any more and vomited into the water.

Somewhere down there would be the Dementor.

And there was nothing he could do about it.

Or… He couldn't see them. Or hear them. But they had a physical body. He could, in theory, touch them. Hit them. Hurt them.

Shivering, he pushed back, crawling towards the centre of the pier before getting up on shaky legs. There were no more explosions occurring on top of the cliff. But he thought he saw coloured flashes up there - spells being cast. The others were fighting for their lives, and he couldn't do anything.

No, he couldn't worry about them. Not when he had a Dementor to deal with. Before the monster managed to climb up the pillar.

He looked around - didn't the ferry have an oar? What about poles with hooks to pull someone out of the sea? Oh. Spells. Wizards would use their wands, of course. And he didn't have a ten-foot pole with him.

He had grenades, but they wouldn't do much to a Dementor - that had been tested extensively hundreds of years ago.

He really needed a ten-foot pole. But the next best thing he had with him was an assault rifle and a bayonet. And not even a full-sized rifle, but a bullpup design. But it was better than nothing.

He pulled the rifle and bayonet out of his enchanted pocket and approached the lantern, waving the blade in front of him - just in case the Dementor had been a better climber than Ron had expected.

But his bayonet only met air until he reached the pillar. Which was a good thing, since he would've been useless and helpless, had the Dementor actually climbed up. Hell, Ron would've been dead already, without knowing it - just a soulless husk left…

He shook his head, cursing his own weakness. The damn monster's aura was already affecting him!

Kneeling at the edge of the pier, he fired several shots into the sea. Then he stabbed the air below, on both sides of the pillar. Which was stupid, but at least he wasn't…

His bayonet caught on something. Something he couldn't see. His bayonet was stuck in a Dementor!

He twisted it, then emptied the magazine into the thing until the Dementor slipped off the blade - presumably crashing into the water again.

Yes, something was disturbing the sea below. It was hard to see, with all the waves, but something was churning up the water there, flailing.

He grinned and fired his rifle at the spot, spacing out the shots. The rounds wouldn't do much - if anything at all - to the monster, but they made him feel better.

And that was huge when facing a Dementor.

If only he had a way to set the thing on fire without spreading white phosphorus all over the pier...

He was on his fourth magazine and third Mars bar when he saw the others returning. All three of them, on their brooms - and, dragged behind one of the brooms, an empty cage. No, not empty.

And it showed, he realised when Hermione set down on the pier - she looked like death warmed up. And wizarding Bill didn't look any better. Fleur looked the best, but that wasn't actually saying very much.

"We… we need to l-leave. N-now," Hermione stammered as the cage was set down in the ferry.

He grabbed her in a hug. She was shaking - and shivering, And so cold… What had happened to her and the others?

He was an idiot. The Dementors had happened. He was a useless muggle, as usual. Just a drain on the others…

He shook his head. "Let's go," he said. The sooner they could get away, the sooner they could store the Dementor somewhere safe - and away from anyone else.

But Hermione was still shivering. She was having another flashback, he realised with a sinking feeling. And so close to the Dementors...

*****​

She hurt. Her whole body hurt. It hurt more than anything else she had ever felt. Her whole body was on fire - or seemed to be. She was screaming, or trying to. But her voice had given out long ago. And she had a metallic taste in her mouth - from the lip she had bitten until it bled.

She thrashed around, limbs flailing, hitting the cold stone floor, splitting her skin with the impacts…

"Scream as much as you want, mudblood. No one cares."

She wanted to spit in the witch's face, but she couldn't lift her head. Not even when the pain disappeared. She stayed on the floor, panting and shivering, the lingering pain making her moan.

The other witch would recast the Torture Curse soon, anyway. Would torture her again until she was screaming again. Would taunt her, threaten to force her to betray her friends.

And it was all her own fault for getting captured.

Her friends would be endangering themselves trying to save her. All because she was a failure.

A stupid, arrogant failure of a witch.

She cried until the next curse hit her and made her scream again.

*****​

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 73: The Alibi

Azkaban, North Sea, Wizarding World, April 29th, 2006

Hermione was shivering and not reacting at all - this was a bad flashback; Ron didn't recall seeing a worse one in the time he had known her. But then, Dementors were said to bring up your worst memories - and Hermione had been through such a lot…

He touched her shoulder. "Hermione."

She didn't react. She had her eyes squeezed shut and she was mumbling something. He leaned in close...

"No. No. No."

Damn. "Hermione. We're…" No, they weren't safe. Not at all. "I'm here. You're not alone." He grabbed her and hugged her. "Hermione."

She was still shaking and shivering. And her skin - her cheek - was clammy and cold. That wasn't a surprise, not in the middle of the North Sea in April. But she shouldn't be freezing - her spell should be keeping her warm. But with one of the monsters right here, on the ferry… He took out the chocolate bars he had left and handed them to her. "Eat!"

"We need to go," Fleur told him. "This is only getting worse. More of them are coming. They can't get to us, but… So many together, and one right here… My Patronus can keep them at bay, but we will still be affected by their aura."

And there was another Dementor in the water, even closer. Yes. He was feeling cold as well, and there wasn't anything he could do anyway. "Can you move the ferry?" Ron asked.

"Yes."

"Do it." The Dementor in the water wouldn't be able to pass through the wards surrounding the island by itself. They just had to ensure it wasn't hitching a ride. He took a deep breath and whispered into Hermione's ear: "We're leaving now. It'll be better soon. Eat the chocolate."

She sobbed as the ferry started moving, but she was eating one of the Mars bars now. He should check if the sledge was coming along, but… He couldn't let go of her. And there was still a Dementor around in - no, on - the water somewhere and last he had seen the sledge, the suction cups had worked. He couldn't bring himself to care right now, anyway - it wasn't as if he could do anything. Or anything right. He couldn't even help Hermione. He was so… no, he wasn't useless. He wasn't. He wasn't.

"You aren't."

Hermione! "Hermione!"

She sobbed. "Ron."

He hugged her more tightly. "We're going to be fine."

"Yes."

"We're approaching the wardline," Fleur told them.

Good. Just a little longer. Ron was already feeling a little better, even with the damn Dementor in the cage in the aft of the ferry. They must have left the swimming Dementor behind, then - Fleur would've spotted it. Good.

"We're through," Fleur announced. "But I can't apparate all of us. I can't return here."

"I can apparate," wizarding Bill said. He didn't look like he could, though, in Ron's opinion - the wizard was shaking, almost as badly as Hermione. And if he left some body parts behind… no.

"Fleur, can you take the Dementor and apparate? We can fly," Ron said. That would be easier. "At least until, you know…"

The witch looked at him, then nodded, a little more firmly than he expected. "Bring Bill back safely," she told him, flashing her teeth.

Ron nodded without thinking, and Fleur moved to the aft of the ferry before he could protest that he wasn't a wizard.

It didn't matter, though, he realised. He could fly a broom. And he was in better shape than either wizarding Bill or Hermione. He nodded again as Fleur waved her wand and shrunk the cage, presumably until it was almost crushing the Dementor, then reached out and touched the thing.

A moment later, she vanished with the cage.

Ron felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from his chest. He hadn't even realised how bad it had been - and the others had dealt with a horde of those? He shook his head. "Let's go!"

"Y-yes," Hermione replied. She was looking better - but still not well. She almost dropped her broom when she pulled it out.

Wizarding Bill looked to be recovering better, but he was still pale and shivering.

Ron hugged Hermione again. Why had he let her go, anyway? "We're fine," he told her. "But I need to cut the sledge loose before we go."

"I can s-shrink it," Hermione replied. "No need to lose it."

He shook his head. "No need to risk anything for a sledge. Dumbledore can buy a hundred of them from his pocket change." He moved to the railing before she could reply, pulled his diving mask on and slid into the sea.

The cold water hit his face, but it wasn't nearly as bad as the Dementors. Just cold, not bone-chilling. He dived, quickly swimming towards the sledge. He didn't bother with the respirator; he just pulled the suction cups back, then sent the sledge down towards the seabed.

No one would find it down there.

He resurfaced with breath to spare and climbed back into the ferry. "Alright…"

Hermione was straddling her broom, and wizarding Bill was already hovering above them. Ron nodded and mounted Hermione's broom behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"The guards should wake up soon," she said.

"Let's go."

She nodded, and they rose into the air.

*****​

Black Lake near Hogwarts, Scotland, Wizarding World, April 29th, 2006

They appeared in the woods near the portal. Ron subtly checked himself for any missing body parts - he trusted Hermione, and she did look better now, after an hour or two spent recovering, but 'trust but verify' had saved his life before.

But he felt whole. Nothing missing, nothing bleeding. It was still night, too - though dawn would break soon. They had to hurry if they wanted to make the switch without the kids in The Burrow noticing.

Next to him, Hermione sighed. "That was… worse than I expected. I should've known better than to assume that it would be easy."

"We didn't assume that it would be easy," Ron corrected her. "We just underestimated how bad the effect of massed Dementors would be."

"Well," wizarding Bill said, also sighing, "I didn't expect things to be that bad. If not for Fleur, we might not have pulled through."

"And without Ron, the Dementors might have overrun the pier," Hermione added. "And we would've been stranded there."

Ron smiled at that - he had done well, hadn't he? At least for a muggle - but shook his head anyway. "We need to move and make the switch."

"After checking that Fleur delivered the Dementor," Hermione replied. "Let's go."

They made their way to the portal. They really needed to move it, or at least hide it better, Ron thought - anyone could stumble upon it, after all. The forest was forbidden, but he knew from Hermione's tales that that didn't scare off everyone. Quite the contrary, for some students.

But so far, no one had stumbled on the portal. So…

"Someone's there!" Hermione hissed. "Disillusioned."

"Fleur?" wizarding Bill called out.

"Bill?" Fleur faded into view. "Bill! I was so worried!" She rushed towards them and all but tackled the wizard. "You took hours!"

"Ah, we were a little more tired than we thought and wanted to make sure we didn't splinch anyone before we apparated."

Bill's attempt to downplay the situation needed some work.

"Bill!" Fleur seemed to share Ron's opinion.

"Did you lock up the Dementor?" Hermione interjected.

"It's in the cell, yes." Fleur turned back to glare at Bill. "Bill...."

He smiled at her, then hugged her again.

Ron turned away when he heard the first sobs. So did Hermione. He looked at her, then held out his arms.

She didn't cry as she hugged him. He hadn't expected her to. Not here, not now.

But she would later.

*****​

The Burrow, Ottery St Catchpole, Devon, Britain, Wizarding World, April 29th, 2006

The Burrow was still standing when they arrived - discreetly, at the pond in the woods nearby. Not that Ron had expected it to have burned down overnight, but… With the kids and the twins - both sets of them - in the house, he wouldn't have been surprised by the building sporting some impressive and creative damage, either.

"It's still standing," Hermione echoed his thoughts.

"It better be standing," Fleur commented. "Victoire knows better than that."

The way Bill coughed told Ron that Fleur was a little too optimistic. "Let's go," he whispered.

"Disillusioned," Hermione reminded them. "We don't know who's there - and who might be watching."

They swept the area - well, the others did; Ron stayed at where they'd arrived - but didn't find anyone watching the house.

Then they approached the back door. No lights were on, which was a good sign - if there were Aurors or Unspeakables present, the lights would be on. Wizarding Bill knocked on the door, then opened it a crack. "Hello?" Ron heard him whisper.

"Son, is that you?" That sounded like Dad.

"Dad?"

"Yes. Come inside, quickly."

They snuck in, Ron holding on to Hermione's hand so he wouldn't stumble into their disillusioned companions.

"We expected you earlier," Mr Weasley told them.

"It took longer than expected," Hermione replied as she dispelled the Disillusionment Charms on Ron and herself.

"Ah." Mr Weasley nodded and didn't ask anything further. "The others are resting - or sleeping."

"Were resting."

Ron turned and stared at himself. This was… really creepy. Dumbledore in his body, standing there… It was not quite like a mirror. Something was off - but he couldn't tell what it was. Just that it wasn't right.

"Did you have to talk to anyone?" Hermione wanted to know.

"Actually, yes. We were visited by two Aurors," Dumbledore told her. "Only briefly, though - they were alerting Mr Potter and Mr Weasley about an incident on Azkaban. We took the opportunity to be seen and heard."

Mr Weasley nodded, a little curtly, in Ron's opinion.

"It was quite a memorable moment - by coincidence, their arrival occurred at the same time as the children implemented their plan to acquire their toys." Dumbledore chuckled, which definitely sounded wrong. "I have no doubt that, as a result, our alibi has been strengthened - although, since it happened after the ferry was reported stolen, it won't be as convincing as we had hoped."

"And the two guards left on the ferry are alright?" Ron asked. He wanted to know what the kids had done, too, but this was more important.

"Yes. They were the ones who reported the theft."

"Well," Hermione said, "let's do the switch. Before the twins - either set - gets any ideas, now that the mission is over."

Everyone agreed with that.

"How long until your last dose of Polyjuice Potion wears off?" she asked Dumbledore.

The old man in Ron's young body glanced at his mechanical watch - a duplicate of the one Ron was wearing. "We'll revert in fifteen minutes, according to my watch."

So Ron would have to stare at his own body controlled by an old spymaster for a quarter-hour longer. He could think of better ways to pass the time. "What did the kids do?" he asked.

Mr Weasley winced. "Ah, they executed a… I think the correct term is 'heist'."

"A heist?" Hermione sounded doubtful.

"Victoire did what?" Fleur sounded angry.

Wizarding Bill looked like he was hiding a grin.

As did Dumbledore. "They planned and executed a rather ingenious ploy - for their age," the old man said. "They used a distraction to draw our attention while they sneaked into the attic, where the chest was stored. They were even prepared for the ghoul guarding it. However, they hadn't considered the fact that a cornered ghoul can, apparently, be very loud."

"Oh." Hermione looked both fascinated and disgusted.

Wizarding Bill, though, was chuckling. "Ah, we would have never made such a mistake - we used the ghoul as an alarm clock at times."

"We don't do that any more," Mr Weasley said. "Luna insisted that it was cruel towards the ghoul."

"What did they do?" Fleur demanded to know, hands on her hips. "You mentioned a distraction, didn't you?"

"Oh." Mr Weasley chuckled. "It was harmless. They set off fireworks outside - and tried to frame Fred and George for it, of course. Unfortunately for them, the Aurors arrived just when the fireworks went off, which was…"

Ron winced. He could imagine the reaction of two Aurors alerting wizarding Harry and wizarding Ron just as fireworks suddenly went off. "Was anyone hurt?"

"Oh, no! The Aurors took cover, and Molly quickly sorted things out." Mr Weasley smiled. "But then, the ghoul started screaming."

"What did they do to the ghoul?" Hermione asked.

"They used another firework - a sunburst - to frighten him long enough to grab the chest." Dumbledore was chuckling. "But the light and the screaming ensured that the Aurors and Mr Potter and Mr Weasley arrived in the attic before our intrepid burglars managed to vacate it. The rest, as the saying goes, is history. Molly wasn't amused."

Ron could imagine that. Very well. "I guess the twins got blamed for not keeping track of their fireworks."

"Actually, I think Mrs Weasley is saving that particular lecture until she can address her sons in their original bodies," Dumbledore cut in. "Quite understandable, of course."

Oh, yes. Ron nodded and tried not to look at his own duplicated body.

"This is…" Fleur shook her head, huffing. "I will have words with Victoire. And Fred and George - their daughter was the driving force behind this, wasn't she?"

"They didn't 'rat out each other', as they put it," Dumbledore said with a sly grin. "If I weren't retired, I would make a note about future recruitment - they've shown great potential. The distraction was quite skillfully constructed - and, incidentally, would have deflected the blame, at least initially, on to two known troublemakers. And trying to scare the ghoul away with a fake sun also shows creative thinking with limited resources. I am looking forward to what they'll achieve once they are at Hogwarts."

The old man remained utterly unfazed by the fierce glare Fleur levelled at him. "Are you telling me that you plan to encourage my child to become a thief?"

"A thief? Perish the thought! Though I cannot deny that Victoire and the others would make good agents, in light of what they did tonight."

"Agents?"

"Secret agents," Ron told her. "Operatives. Spies."

"People who do missions like the one you carried out tonight," Dumbledore explained with a smile.

"Quoi?"

Ron couldn't tell if the old spymaster was attempting to protect the kids by drawing Fleur's anger on to himself, or if he had misjudged the situation, but Ron would've really preferred if Dumbledore hadn't done so while wearing Ron's face. Watching an enraged Fleur burn it off would...

"It's merely hypothetical, of course - though it would certainly be less dangerous than raiding old cursed tombs, I believe." Dumbledore tilted his - Ron's - head.

That deflated Fleur a little, though it still took wizarding Bill's intervention to calm her down, and she was still fuming - although not literally any more - when she stalked off to check on her daughter.

Of course, Dumbledore might have been counting on that intervention as well. He certainly looked smug enough when he addressed the rest of them. "And now I believe we should gather the others, so they won't take another dose thinking you're still missing."

"Yes," Hermione said. "And then we can head home."

*****​

Black Lake, Scotland, April 29th, 2006

Ron sighed with relief after stepping through the portal. Home sweet home. Well, the laboratory still didn't feel like a real home, but it was getting there - they had spent months here, after all. Though he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

"Well, that was an experience," Fred commented. "Impersonating ourselves."

"Drinking a magic potion, only to look like yourself - I feel a little ripped off," his brother said.

"Not as much as Dumbledore, though - he drank a potion and looked like Ron!"

"Ha ha." Ron rolled his eyes.

"Why did you use Polyjuice Potion yourselves?" Hermione said. "You already look identical."

"Oh, only a single child would say that," Fred told her. "But someone who grew up with a twin knows that there are drastic differences even between twins. And any child of one of our dimensional twins would have noticed."

That actually sounded logical. Although Ron wasn't convinced.

"That was the reason we distracted the children," Dumbledore said. "Successfully, I might add."

"Thanks to our superb acting talent," Fred added.

George nodded in agreement. "And it was a very remarkable - inspiring - evening."

"All you did was wait for us to return," Ron said, snorting.

"But it was very intense waiting," Fred replied. "In any case - we need to return to our shop now." He smiled at Hermione.

She sighed, but grabbed his hand, then turned to his brother. "George, give me your hand!"

"Careful, I'll be needing it back!"

Hermione snorted, then disappeared with both twins.

Ron sighed.

"Dr Granger seems a little… off," Dumbledore said.

Ron pressed his lips together before telling him: "The Dementors were much worse than we'd assumed."

"Ah." The old man nodded. "And Dr Granger has survived a lot of traumatic experiences, which would only aggravate their effects."

"Yes." Ron wasn't going to discuss Hermione's problems with the old spymaster.

"You seem to have weathered the ordeal quite well, though."

"I wasn't in the thick of it," Ron said. "I stayed on the pier."

"Ah."

Time to change the subject. "Speaking of - is the Dementor secure?" Fleur wouldn't have just lost it, but… trust but verify.

"Let's check, shall we?" Dumbledore started towards the door. "I must confess that I'm very curious to find out whether I can truly not perceive the creature."

"You can't. You neither hear nor see them," Ron told him. "The only way to detect them is the effect of their presence - the cold and depression creeping up on you. And you can detect them if they disturb the environment."

"Fascinating. I would think such effects would be obvious."

"They seem to gather in colder places - and they sneak up on you. You aren't suddenly shivering and depressed; it's a gradual process." Ron shuddered at the memory. "It's very easy to miss until it's too late."

"Insidious."

They entered the security centre next to the portal room. One of the screens there showed an empty cage in a high tech cell.

"Mr Dumbledore." Filch's successor, Albert Smith, was there, nodding at the old spymaster. And glaring at Ron. The man probably still blamed Ron and his friends for Filch's death.

Dumbledore seemed to ignore that, though. "Albert! How are things? I gather that we've got a very interesting guest."

The other man grimaced. "We haven't opened the cell since the witch dropped the cage in it, and it's isolated - but we can't see what's supposed to be in there. Not through the slit on the door, nor through our cameras."

"Fascinating," Dumbledore said. "I assume that their invisibility is a mental effect - should Dr Granger be able to perceive the creature through our cameras, then that would prove my hypothesis."

Ron shivered. That was even worse. To know that even far away from the Dementor, its magic would affect your mind, hiding it from you…

Smith, too, looked slightly ill.

Dumbeldore, though, remained unfazed. "It's unfortunate indeed that, being bereft of magical talent, we cannot easily check for ourselves if the creature is still present since we cannot perceive it - not with our eyes nor through cameras. Although I assume that Dr Granger has a few ideas on how to detect such creatures without being a wizard or witch. It's also a fascinating opportunity to study how magic and electronics interact, if I do say so myself."

"It's also bloody dangerous," Ron said. "If that thing gets out, it could kill the entire base without anyone being able to stop it - or even notice it."

"Well, it won't get out," Dumbledore told him. "Not as long as we keep these doors locked. It cannot phase through walls."

Smith didn't look convinced. And Ron wondered how easy it would be for a wizard or witch to defeat their security.

Something else to discuss with Hermione - once she was back.

*****​

Hermione was taking longer to return than Ron had expected. He wasn't worried - not really - but he was a little concerned. The odds that anyone would want to try to kidnap her, and would be observing the twins' home, and would manage to get the jump on her and the twins, were low, but not nil. And while the Russians were convinced it had been a fake, MI5 might still be interested. And some of the Russians might want to take revenge for her role in an apparent counterintelligence operation.

Not to mention that Hermione hadn't fully recovered from her exposure to so many Dementors yet. He paced a little in her laboratory.

Dumbledore would have people watching the twins' home. Anyone coming after them would have to deal with the old man's agents first, and in a way that kept them from alerting anyone - and that would only work until their next scheduled call-in or until they were due to be relieved. So anyone who wanted to ambush Hermione and his brothers would have to know when they were expected.

Which was nearly impossible. Not even the twins had known when they would be returning. Although they would have expected to return by the morning, so…

He sighed and clenched his teeth. He was driving himself crazy for no reason - it wasn't as if he could do anything about it.

He sat down and grabbed some of Hermione's notes from her desk. He couldn't help with physics or magic, but he could help with finding the best wording for the Fidelius Charm. Or at least with finding holes in the wording.

Dr Hermione Granger's research is valid and worth acquiring.

That would keep anyone from pursuing her for her research. It might even stop other research into her field. It would also make everyone assume she was a fraud. And that could have worse consequences than simply ruining her reputation.

Parallel dimensions exist and can be accessed by a combination of magic and quantum physics.

That would hide the knowledge of dimensional travel, but they weren't certain how it would work across dimensions. And it wouldn't keep anyone from stumbling upon a portal - or the laboratory.

You could combine some of the secrets, but that made casting the spell even harder. They could hide the ritual that way - but that would preclude hiding their knowledge and the portal itself.

And picking one or the other… Ron didn't like either trade-off.

Dr Hermione Granger can create portals to other dimensions.

No. That wouldn't protect the portals themselves.

His next attempt was interrupted by the door opening. "Ron? What are you doing?"

Hermione! He jumped up. "I was going over the wordings. Again."

"Ah." She nodded with a tired smile. "Another task I need to finish. The most crucial, I believe."

"And one we shouldn't rush," he replied, smiling at her as she walked over to the desk. She didn't look as bad as he had feared - but that was a low bar to clear.

"Yes." She sighed as she sat down, almost slumping over. "We really can't afford to rush things any more. This was…" She shook her head. "It could've been a disaster."

"But it wasn't." He walked around the desk to stand behind her, rubbing her shoulders. "And, speaking of not rushing things - we also need to rest."

She sighed once more, loudly, but he felt her relax a little under his hands. "Says the man working on our project instead of resting."

"I couldn't have slept without knowing you were OK." Ron tensed. He hadn't meant to say that - he must be even more tired than he had thought.

And now Hermione had tensed even more than he had. "Sorry," she mumbled.

He wanted to hit himself. "It's not your fault."

"It is, actually - I spent too long looking at the twins' products. I should've returned at once. I'm sorry, I didn't realise..."

"No, no. I knew you were safe - the odds of anyone making a move today were astronomically low." He squeezed her shoulder gently.

She turned her head and shifted to look at him. To frown at him.

"Fred and George love to show off," he said. "I know how hard it is to resist if they offer a tour - and that's despite knowing they'll prank me with their products - so It's not as if you stood a chance."

Her frown turned into a scowl. "I shouldn't have left you waiting for… prank items."

"If they made you laugh, you absolutely should've," he told her. "After last night, we can use all the laughter we can get."

She hunched over again. "And that's my fault - I should've realised the dangers."

"No one realised it," he retorted. "And we made it through."

"With a lot of luck."

He shrugged. "Not too much." He squeezed her shoulders again. "We did good. We just shouldn't rush things like that any more."

"We won't," she told him, and he could see her jaw muscles twitch as she clenched her teeth. "I promise."

"Unless we must - never say never."

Judging by her glare, she caught the mangled reference. He smiled at her - she looked much better being annoyed than tired and depressed.

"Now, let's get some rest," he whispered. It would do them good.

"But we have a lot to do!" she protested.

"And we're in no state to do any of it," he told her. Hell, he was slipping himself.

"I apparated just fine. Several times."

"Yes, and it tired you out." He started to steer her towards the door. "Let's take a nap."

He felt her tense, then relax again. She sighed again. "I guess a nap won't hurt."

They walked towards their room, arm in arm, without saying anything else, and, once inside, Ron pulled off his trousers and shirt, then helped her get out of her clothes - which still smelled like salt and the sea, he noted; the air filters in her lab must have masked it.

The room was warm, but she had goosebumps when they climbed into the bed, and he quickly wrapped his arms around her under the blanket.

She fell asleep very quickly but didn't stop shivering for quite a while.

*****​

Black Lake, Scotland, April 30th, 2006

"Oh, dear Lord! It's morning!"

What? Ron opened his eyes, drawing a sharp breath, and looked around. Hermione sounded frantic, so… Oh! "It's morning?"

"Yes!" She squirmed in his arms, pushing them aside, then slipped out of the bed. "We've slept through lunch and dinner! And the whole night!"

Oh, yes - his stomach was complaining. "Obviously, we needed it," he said.

She stopped on the way to the bathroom and glared at him. He smiled back at her. Huffing, she turned away. "We're so behind! Who knows what's happened in our absence? If anyone tried to contact us, they'll have become suspicious!"

"The other Harry and my counterpart would've contacted us," he replied - but she had already closed the door to the bathroom behind her.

He lay back, hands on the back of his head, and looked at the ceiling. He was hungry, but otherwise… he wasn't tired anymore. Or cold. Or… whatever he had been, back on that pier.

And now he was shuddering again, remembering the Dementors. Damn. He closed his eyes - apparently, it would take more than a good night's sleep to get over their trip. And he hadn't been in the thick of it. Unlike Hermione.

Damn.

*****​

Attack On Azkaban! New Dark Lord? Dementors Swarm As Ministry Scrambles!

Ron, fresh out of the bathroom and wrapped in a bathrobe, peered at the Daily Prophet lying on the bed. Under the flashy headline, it showed a drawing of Azkaban, surrounded by floating depictions of Dementors. And the date matched today's. "I didn't know owls delivered to other worlds," he commented.

Hermione stopped frowning at the newspaper and frowned at him instead. "That's your first reaction?" she asked.

"Hey! We knew something like this would be coming," he defended himself. "But I don't know how you managed to get a newspaper here in the time I took to shower." Well, she could've apparated, but that would have cut it very close, he thought - and he doubted that she would have risked even such a short trip by herself merely to buy a newspaper. Not without telling him. Though he had thought that he had heard the door opening during his shower.

She pursed her lips in response. "It was delivered by Hedwig, Harry's owl," she told him.

"Ah. So post owls do deliver across worlds." That was… concerning.

"Hedwig is… special," Hermione explained. "And Harry told her where to find the portal, I believe. She flew straight through it, as the camera footage shows, then barked at the guards in the portal room until they called me."

"Ah." That sounded better. And if normal post owls could track them here, they probably would have done so already, wouldn't they? "Is she still around?"

"No. She returned at once. I didn't even have time to write a note." Hermione frowned again. "I don't know if she was mad at me, or if it's something related to the effects of dimensional travel."

"Or she just was in a mood today," Ron suggested. "Occam's razor?"

"It's a possibility," she admitted. "But we'll have to check to be sure this isn't a weakness in our security." She sighed. "Another thing to do."

"Well, we could let the Lunas investigate," Ron said. That would distract them from their current funk - and keep them busy.

"Good idea!" Hermione cheered up. "Now let's go eat breakfast."

"Once I'm dressed," he replied with a grin.

"Of course."

"So what does the article say?" Ron asked as he pulled his trousers on.

"Baseless speculation about a 'New Dark Lord'. Apparently, the fact that no one was actually hurt in the 'raid' is just a perfidious ploy to lull the Ministry into a false sense of security." She shook her head. "Really, I'd almost think it was written by…" She trailed off, pressing her lips together.

Ron nodded before pulling on a sweater. "Anything about the Dementors?"

"According to the Prophet, we went there to make an alliance, but we were repulsed by the Dementors." She scoffed. "It paints them in an altogether far too favourable light."

Ron would've made a joke about the author being either a dark wizard or paid by the Dementors, but he doubted that she would've found it funny. "Let's go eat breakfast; I'm starving," he said instead.

"Well, you were the one who wanted us to take a nap yesterday, which led to us missing two meals."

He snorted and opened the door. "Sirius always said: Sleep before food."

"That's Sirius - which doesn't mean it's correct."

*****​

Ron read the article over breakfast. It really was on a par with the worst of his own world's tabloids: speculative, rumour-mongering and panic-inducing. And calling upon all wizards and witches to rally round the flag - even though they called it 'supporting the Ministry in these dark times'.

He shook his head as he put the newspaper down next to his plate, ignoring the way the drawn Dementors gathered at the edge facing the teapot - though only after checking if the air seemed colder there; you never knew with magic.

It didn't, anyway.

"See? Baseless speculation!" Hermione complained. "Everyone is working themselves into a frenzy!"

"To be fair, they've got good reason to," Ron replied. "We did sort of spook the whole country, didn't we?"

Hermione sighed. "Yes, we did," she pressed through clenched teeth. "But that's no excuse for such sloppy journalism! They didn't question the Ministry's policies and reaction at all! Not even a little!"

"We already knew that the Daily Prophet was the Ministry's mouthpiece," he pointed out, stretching his legs a little - with Harry off with Ginny, and Sirius in London as well, handling 'family business', and the Lunas staying at their hidden habitat, they had the lounge to themselves.

"That's worse - that means the Ministry will use this scare for its own ends. Nothing like a threat to the country to push through questionable policies."

"Do you think your friends would do that?" They knew the truth, after all.

Hermione pursed her lips for a moment. "That doesn't matter - Shacklebolt won't hesitate to use this. And since he doesn't know the truth, he might honestly believe that whatever measures he implements are actually necessary."

"They can't hurt, though, can they?" Shacklebolt hadn't struck Ron as a potential dictator. And a little more vigilance against dark wizards and other criminals was a good thing in his book.

"It's money and other resources that will be missing in other areas," she pointed out as she finished her second cup of tea. "And there's a significant potential for abuse."

"Ah." He nodded - that was, especially given the reason for the whole affair, not a good thing. He should've thought of that. Though he didn't share Luna's views on the police, of course. "Well, overall, we're still doing good," he added, more than a little lamely.

"But not as much good as we could - and should! - be doing," she retorted. "But we can't change that now. And who knows how long it'll take for all this excitement to die down?"

"I'm sure Dumbledore is already thinking of ways to make that happen," he told her. Dumbledore wouldn't want increased security in Wizarding Britain. That would make the old man's operations - whatever they were - more difficult. Although Ron certainly wouldn't put it past Dumbledore to first exploit the sudden paranoia. Quite the contrary.

Hermione frowned. "Let's hope whatever he's planning won't make matters even worse."

Ron could agree with that. "We're bound to have some good luck one of these days," he said.

"That's not how it works!" she retorted.

"Are you sure?" They were talking about magic, after all.

She opened her mouth, then closed it again and frowned at him.

"Another task for the list?" He grinned at her, and she scowled in return.

*****​

There it was. At the end of the long corridor. The cell with the empty cage. Only, it wasn't empty - it held a Dementor. And as they had discovered, Hermione could see it plainly - both through the slit in the door and through the cameras.

But Ron couldn't see it. Or hear it. Looking through the armoured glass forming most of the cell door, he only saw the cage. Well, he knew that the monster was there.

"I could go check myself," he heard Hermione over the intercom.

"No!" he snapped. He could do this - better than Hermione. At least for now.

He took a deep breath, then started walking down the corridor, towards the cell. With every step, the pole he was carrying struck the ground. Halfway there, the air started to feel colder. He marched on, gritting his teeth. By the time he got to the door, he was feeling cold - cold enough for his breath to fog. He shivered - perhaps he should've worn warmer clothes. Or let Hermione do it - she could use magic to keep herself warm. He couldn't do anything - couldn't even see his target. Couldn't...

Not again! He cursed under his breath, angry at himself - and at the invisible monster. "Open up!" he snapped.

The glass door started to swing open, revealing just how thick it was. You'd need heavy weapons to get through it. Or explosives.

The cold air inside billowed out, and Ron shuddered even more. And felt even angrier. He raised the pole and stuck it through the bars in the cage. There! Resistance!

"You're touching it," Hermione told him.

"Good." Clenching his teeth, he leaned forward and stabbed with the pole.

"It's hissing," Hermione told him. "And giving way."

So, it didn't like getting struck. Good to know.

He pulled the pole back and pulled out a small bag. One of Fred and George's more insidious inventions - Glittering Glue.

Time to find out if one could mark a Dementor. Or place a tracker on one. Or a lead.

*****​

"Do you think that Thestrals would render saddles and reins invisible, or would they look like ghost horses?"

She rolled her eyes at Ron, huffing. "The reins don't show up when they're pulling the carriages - nothing shows up. Not the yoke, either. Therefore neither reins nor saddles would show up. Simple logic."

"Yes." Ron frowned at her. "But magic's not always logical. Has anyone tested that? Have you?"

"Of course not!"

"Oh?" He grinned. "Because you're not allowed?"

"What?" She scowled at him. "Certainly not! And anyway, not having seen someone die, how could I test it?" Thestrals weren't even on the third year curriculum.

Ron's grin widened. "I'm glad you asked!"

She narrowed her eyes. Had he managed to put one over on her? But how?

But Ron was already turning to Harry. "Harry! Come on - we need to test something!"

Oh, dear Lord! She frowned as she pushed a stubborn strand of her bushy hair off her face. It looked like, once again, she would have to fix another half-baked plan before her friends got themselves into trouble.

*****​

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 74: The Experiments

Black Lake, Scotland, April 30th, 2006

"It works in Dungeons and Dragons," Ron told himself as he hefted the small bag and took a step back from the cage in which the Dementor was being held - no need to risk splattering himself with the Glittering Glue. He didn't have to aim - the cage was so small, the invisible creature inside couldn't really move to the side. Which was good since he'd probably miss otherwise - it wasn't as if he was any good at throwing things, Ginny had always been better at sports, and...

Shaking his head and holding his breath, he let the contents of the bag fly at the cage and took another step back. The glittering mass hit the bars of the cage and splattered all over them and the inside of the cage - and Ron gasped as the outline of a figure became visible. Ragged, hooded, just as Hermione had described them. Though with the glitter, it didn't look quite as scary. Ron surprised himself by chuckling at the sight.

"Fascinating," he heard Dumbledore's voice over the intercom. "So we can make Dementors visible."

"Seems so," Ron replied. Well, his brothers would have another feather in their caps, having found a way to deal with a centuries-old threat to wizards and muggles alike, while all he had done was hit something invisible like a trained...

"But," Hermione cut in, "if it's so easy, why hasn't anyone done it before? Paint has been in use for millennia, after all."

"Well, perhaps it's something…" Ron trailed off. Was it just his imagination or was the glitter disappearing? It was hard to tell, what with the bars being covered in it as well, but… "It's fading," he said. Of course it was - had he expected anything else?

"Indeed it is," Dumbledore agreed. "It's a very temporary solution, then."

"Yes, it's fading for me as well," Hermione said. "It's not the Dementor's aura spreading, then - it must be a physical degradation of the substance."

Ron hefted his pole. "I'll check." He carefully guided the pole through the bars covered in glitter without touching them, then stabbed forward again, gritting his chattering teeth as he felt resistance. He moved the pole around a little, then carefully pulled it back.

No glitter appeared when he removed the pole from the cage, but something clung to its tip.

"Take a sample!" Hermione yelled.

"Sure, sure," he replied. That was all he was good for, after all - menial tasks anyone else could do. He might just as well stay here and wait for the next order… No! He shook his head.

"Are you alright, Ron?"

He took a few more steps back. "Yes. Just… the aura." He quickly grabbed a sample bag and covered the tip of the pole with it, then wiped the substance off with the bag. "Done."

"Perhaps we should take a break," Dumbledore suggested.

"No, no," Ron said. "I'm fine. Mentally. But could you turn up the heating?" He shivered. "It's getting really cold."

Dumbledore coughed, but it was Hermione who spoke up. "The heating's already running at full power."

"Oh." And yet, he was freezing. But… "My breath isn't visible," he noted.

"The cold must have several components. Heating will be able to counter the environmental effects, but not the effects on people, then," Hermione said. "We'll have to rig you with a sensor to check your body temperature. I'm sure the Unspeakables have known about that for a long time!"

"Probably," Ron agreed. "Next test?"

"If you are ready, yes," Dumbledore said.

Ron heard Hermione huff as he moved closer to the cage again. The glitter on the Dementor had completely disappeared, but the cage bars were still covered in it. Perfect. Ron knelt and put the motion detector down, then retreated again. Of course, he forgot to test if it worked!

"It registered Ron," Hermione said. "The Dementor doesn't register."

"That's probably because it's not giving off any heat," Dumbledore replied. "Let's try an air pressure sensor."

In Ron's experience, those were fiddly - and useless outside. But in a cell or sealed hallway? Once more, he placed a sensor on the ground, then retreated.

"That's Ron moving back," he heard Hermione comment. "But there's nothing in the cage. I'll increase the sensitivity."

"Good thinking - is the creature floating motionlessly?"

"It looks like it. Ron, please hold your breath and don't move!"

"OK," he said, and did so. It wasn't as if he was any good at anything, anyway, if he moved. But not doing anything he might manage.

"Nothing… nothing… there!" Hermione's voice rose.

"Indeed! Movement inside the cage." Dumbledore sounded triumphant. "I believe we have found a way to keep an eye on our guest even as muggles. Two, if we prepare some glitter dispensers."

"Yes," Hermione replied. "Now we have to find a way to kill it."

*****​

"Alright. So, we now know that the Dementor's aura, for lack of a more precise term, is not merely an illusion, but an actual physical effect - it lowers the temperature around the Dementor. But that also means it can be countered by muggle means - heating, mostly. Dressing warmly has a very limited effect. That aspect of the aura must directly effect the body since Ron's body temperature was affected as well. Not even spells will keep you warm." Hermione pointed at several drawings stuck on the whiteboard with little magnets.

"So you could be freezing to death in a room heated to twenty degrees while wearing clothes meant for expeditions to the Arctic," Ron said.

Hermione pursed her lips for a second, then nodded. "Yes, indeed."

"Fascinating," Dumbledore said. "If that ever happens, the coroner stuck with the case would be very confused, I believe."

"It's unlikely to happen, though," Hermione told them. "Few, if any, Dementor attacks will happen in such warm rooms. The Dementors seem to prefer cold environments. Back in the war, when they were running rampant, deaths by exposure rose as the Dementors sucked out the souls of unwary isolated muggles and then let the husks freeze to death."

"Few police officers would suspect anything amiss, I think," Dumbledore said. "A homeless person, or a drunk who got lost, found dead after a cold night? And all the signs on the body matching? An open-and-shut case."

Ron nodded.

"The Obliviators back then didn't even bother with those cases, or so I believe." Hermione scoffed. "Not that they cared much for muggles in the first place. However, they had to work harder in cases where entire families were killed by the monsters. Most of those were covered up as 'gas leaks'." She shook her head. "Anyway, warm clothes actually do help a little, but that might merely be a sympathetic effect."

"A sympathetic effect?" Dumbledore asked.

"Like Voodoo?" Ron had heard that term in some games.

Hermione shook her head. "That would be sympathetic magic - at least in lay terms. No, that's not it. Muggles cannot do magic. I'm not certain what the underlying cause of this effect is, only that it exists. It might be that the Dementors need to at least subconsciously convince a target that they're freezing, which would be harder if you're dressed warmly."

"Nothing subconscious at it if you can see your breath," Ron pointed out. He had been the one testing those hypotheses, after all.

"Heating should help there, then," Dumbledore said. "Gellert won't like the size of our heating budget, but it's necessary," he added with a grin.

"Yes." Ron didn't think it was funny. It would be a drop in the budget, anyway.

"But neither will affect the mental effects of the aura. Chocolate will lessen it - to a very limited degree. It helps more when recovering from exposure to Dementors." Hermione pointed at another picture. "More testing is required to determine whether this is an innate quality of chocolate or an effect on the brain's chemistry. If the latter is true, then there might be more effective drugs to counter the aura's mental effects."

Dumbledore nodded, though Ron clenched his teeth. He didn't think drugging yourself so you were high instead of depressed was a good idea. "Many of those drugs are addictive, aren't they?"

"Not all, but there's a risk," Hermione admitted. "And most have serious side effects."

Ron nodded, shuddering a little. He'd rather gain some weight from eating too much chocolate than suffer that.

"However, we have confirmed that the Dementor's effect on muggles is not an illusion, either, but affects substances coating its body, rapidly decaying them. We haven't tested for it yet, but I fear that this extends to the Dementor's environment as well."

"You mean it could make the cage and the door decay?" Ron asked.

"Not rapidly, or it would've done so already. But I think over time there might be noticeable decay. That means we'll have to check for it regularly."

Ron nodded. He could do that.

"I don't think that will be a problem," Dumbledore said. "Repairs are easy."

"I don't think so either," Hermione agreed. "Indeed, I think we can safely assume that this set-up is safe enough for more aggressive tests."

"Such as testing ways to kill it," Ron said. "They don't like being shot, but immersion in water doesn't kill them."

"I didn't think it would. But it is a vulnerability," Hermione retorted. "And I have a few ideas on how we might be able to exploit it. We already know a Dementor can be touched - and can be hit and pushed. Our next step will be testing if they can be damaged by physical attacks - and whether they heal from such damage. And how long that might take."

"Destructive testing." Ron grinned.

Hermione frowned at him, but Dumbledore chuckled.

*****​

Black Lake, Scotland, May 1st, 2006

Ron stared at the cage as the last remains of the Glittering Glue turned into smoke and ashes. He could just make out a thrashing figure in the smoke, sort of. And some flames appearing and disappearing. "It looks like the flames are visible if they're far enough away from the Dementor," he reported.

"I concur," Dumbledore said over the intercom. "Do you feel any warmer? Your body temperature hasn't changed - it's still as low as during the other tests."

"Marginally," Ron replied. "Might just be a psychological effect." Watching the creature burn - or, rather, knowing it was burning - warmed his heart, so to speak.

"It's screeching and throwing itself against the cage bars as it burns," Hermione added. "But I can't detect any actual damage - not even the rags are actually getting damaged, as far as I can tell."

"Well, we already knew that fire wouldn't work," Ron said, taking a step back. It was unnatural to be cold while standing next to a fire.

"We knew that wizards tried fire in the past and found out it didn't work, but we didn't know whether the fire wasn't hurting them, or if they simply couldn't be killed by fire and would recover from it," Hermione retorted. "Now, we know more."

"It's hurting but not damaging them," Ron said.

"A likely possibility, but it's certainly conceivable that being on fire merely enrages the creature," Dumbledore pointed out. "Like when we step into the droppings of an animal and cannot shake them off."

Ron preferred to think that the Dementor was actually hurting and not just losing its temper.

"We can hardly ask it," Hermione said. "But we can conclude that fire doesn't physically harm the creature. Which we'd already assumed."

It still had to be tested, of course - without the lore from the Unspeakables, their knowledge about the Dementors was very spotty. And setting the monsters on fire was also fun. "What's next, then?" Ron asked.

"More physical attacks with various materials," Hermione told him. She didn't mention Fiendfyre - none of them did. No one wanted to resort to such measures - well, Dumbledore might consider it - and certainly not inside a building. According to Hermione, not even water stopped the cursed fire.

"Alright." He ate another chocolate bar and hefted his pole. The tip had been modified so various implements could be put on it. Like a Swiss Army polearm. He doubted that anything would come from it - the wizards would have tried that in the past as well. With magic, it would be easy to transfigure anything into something else.

It still had to be done, though. You never knew. And as much as he hated being near a Dementor, stabbing one still felt satisfying, even if it might not do any damage.

*****​

Hot chocolate was a godsend. Ron sighed, his eyes closed and his hands wrapped around the mug on the table, then took a deep breath, letting the scent of chocolate and hot milk fill his nostrils. "Mhh."

"I think you - we - overdid it," Hermione said.

He looked at her. "What do you mean?"

She gestured at his mug. "We shouldn't have let the experiments run for so long; you were exposed for hours."

"I can handle it," he replied before taking a sip from the mug. "I'm feeling much better already."

"You ate half a pound of chocolate," she told him.

"Yes." He grinned. As a kid, he would've loved having an excuse to eat that much chocolate.

"That's not good for you. Even if we discount the effects of prolonged exposure to a Dementor, eating so much chocolate…"

He shrugged. "I'll do a harder run in the morning. Exercise some more. Do a unit in the gym. Work off the calories."

"That's not what I meant."

He raised his eyebrows at her, taking another sip, and she sighed.

"Not all that I meant, then," she told him with a scowl. "In any case, we need to cut down on your exposure."

"As long as you don't try to take over instead…"

The way she pressed her lips together told him enough.

"You can't risk too much exposure," he told her. "It would hurt your research."

"I know! But watching you like this…" She shook her head. "I don't know if I can stand it."

But it wasn't as if they had many alternatives. The fewer who knew about their experiments, the better. And their friends who knew about them couldn't just vanish and then return traumatised - someone in Wizarding Britain would notice. And Ron wouldn't let Ginny or Harry go through this. Or, God help him, the Lunas or Sirius. They weren't as tough as they liked to think.

He stood and walked around the table. "Come on, let's sit on the couch."

She scowled some more but followed his suggestion, and they were soon sitting on the couch, hugging.

"Say, did anyone ever test if chocolate harms Dementors?"

She turned to stare at him. "Yes, actually. Someone tested it."

And he'd thought he was joking. "And?"

"It doesn't. It has no effect on the other properties of their auras, either." She shook her head, then leaned it against his shoulder. "I still think water's the key. It's used for several purifying rituals as well. I need to find a way to make them ingest it. I was thinking of transfiguring ice into something that DMSO would transport, but I don't even know if Dementors have blood - or anything resembling actual bodily functions. But it's a solid hypothesis."

He nodded in agreement. "And then wait until it's ingested, then turn it back?"

"That's the problem - I don't know how to untransfigure something like that." She was pressing her lips together. "And thought of putting a timer on a spell… I've never heard of anything like that." She sounded frustrated.

"Hmmm." He was no wizard. He couldn't cast spells. What was he supposed to say? "How long does something stay transfigured?"

"Depending on the skill of the wizard, a very long time," she replied. "I could deliberately cast a spell that only just worked, of course, but that would be terribly imprecise - and not really applicable on the scale we need."

Ron nodded, though he was sure that she also hated the very idea of not doing her best. "What about potions? The twins' trapped sweets are temporary, right?"

She grimaced. "Yes, that would seem to be the best solution - even though we'll have to rely on them for it."

Ron shrugged. "Whatever works." Sometimes, Hermione's desire to do everything herself got in the way of a good idea.

*****​

Black Lake, Scotland, May 2nd, 2006

"So you want a way to temporarily transfigure water into something else for a set time?" wizarding Fred asked.

"Yes." Hermione didn't quite roll her eyes, but she sounded annoyed. Ron could understand that - she had just explained what she wanted. In detail.

"That shouldn't be too hard," the wizard said. "Perhaps something like 'Withering Water'? Turns water to dust, then back?"

"That would be a nice joke when cleaning the basement or attic," his brother added. "Wait until they've rinsed off all the soap, then suddenly - dust everywhere!"

"Wouldn't they use cleaning spells anyway?" Ron asked.

"Oh, most common housekeeping spells actually use water and soap for cleaning," wizarding Fred told him. "The older spells even animate brooms."

"It was probably thought to be a good way to help hide our magic from muggle visitors or neighbours," Hermione suggested.

"Or they didn't know any better and just enchanted mops and buckets," wizarding George commented with a shrug. "For most people, good enough is good enough."

Hermione's frown made it quite clear what she thought about that attitude. Ron smiled - she was a perfectionist, after all. He cleared his throat. "Well, we don't want the Dementor to be scrubbed clean, so let's focus on how to get water inside it, shall we?"

"You want a dirty Dementor?" Wizarding Fred gasped, holding a hand over his heart. "Regular Dementors are bad enough, and you want dirty ones!"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Very funny. You'd make a killing as a stand-up comedian."

"Why, thank you!" The wizard beamed at him and took a bow. "I try my best."

"If that's your best, I'd rather not see your worst," Ron shot back.

"I'd rather focus on the task at hand than amateur comedy," Hermione snapped.

"Yes, ma'am!" Wizarding Fred saluted.

"Well, we'd need to know how you plan to insert the transfigured water into the Dementor's body," wizarding George told her.

"By using dimethyl sulfoxide," Hermione said.

"DMSO," Ron added, which earned him a frown. He smiled back - it was better than letting the twins play word games for a few more minutes.

"It's a solvent that can penetrate skin and other membranes and carry other compounds with it," Hermione explained. "It's often used to deliver muggle medicine."

"And that works on a Dementor?" wizarding George frowned. "Do they even have skin?"

Hermione sighed. "We're not entirely sure, actually - we have used it on them, but we haven't been able to check if it penetrated, due to the decaying effect of their aura and the lack of any compound that would allow us to observe a successful penetration. We do think, however, that there's at least some penetration after observing the rate of decay on coloured solutions."

"Ah. So you don't know and hope it works?" Wizarding Fred grinned. "That's our sort of plan!"

Hermione scowled in return. "While you are working on temporarily transfiguring water, we'll be running more tests and experiments. Even if DMSO turns out to be ineffective, we'll still need your work."

"Ah." Wizarding George nodded. "It's good to be in demand."

"You can't use whatever you create for your products, though," Ron cut in. "Not for a while, at least, or the Ministry might find out you were involved."

"Bah - we've been suspects our entire life! Practically from birth! Mum tried to pin a missing cake on us before we could walk!" wizarding Fred exclaimed.

"You could've summoned the cake to yourselves using accidental magic," Hermione pointed out.

"We could've - but was there any proof? No!" the wizard snorted. "So we're used to such accusations."

"But you already used the 'people stole our products' excuse. It won't work twice," Ron pointed out.

Wizarding George nodded in agreement. "We can probably wait for a while to roll out the new product. Perhaps we'll get called in as experts and can then claim inspiration from our findings."

"I think the Unspeakables will play this close to their chests," Ron told him.

"They're greedy like that, yes," wizarding Fred agreed. "Hoarding all those secrets…"

"I think anyone who knows you two would curse you before letting you access the vaults of the Department of Mysteries," Hermione said in a dry voice.

"See? That's what I mean when I say we're used to being suspects! Not even family and friends trust us!" Wizarding Fred sighed overly dramatically.

"People don't trust you because they know you," Hermione retorted. "And you revel in your reputation."

Both twins grinned in response.

Ron sighed, shaking his head.

*****​

Black Lake, Scotland, May 3rd, 2006

The coloured liquid hit the cage, splashing all over the bars - and, Ron thought, over the creature inside it. He took a step back when he saw the puddle forming at the bottom - despite the protective suit he was wearing, he didn't want to get close to the deadly stuff.

He saw the cage rattle a little - the Dementor must be throwing itself against the bars. Did it know what it had been sprayed with? Did it feel something? Ron noticed more droplets on the floor and took another step back. Even though he might have spilt something on himself already, and was now doomed… He shook his head and wished he could eat a chocolate bar - but the gas mask he was wearing prevented him from eating anything. "What does it look like?" he asked.

"It's covered in the solution," Hermione told him. "Hose it down before it decays."

"Alright." Ron took a deep breath and picked up the hose, aimed it at the ground in front of the cage, and started hosing down the entire cell, starting from the door. Thanks to the heating running at full power and the fact the water was hot as well, it didn't freeze on the bars - that would've ruined the experiment.

After a few minutes, Hermione spoke up again. "That should be enough. The Geiger counter is showing that the water in the drain is clean of radiation."

Which meant he now had to check the cage with his own counter. Taking another deep breath, he hefted the Geiger counter and started to walk towards the cage. Nothing at the door of the cell. Nothing halfway to the cage. Nothing at the cage itself… He grimaced under his gas mask and started to push the counter into the cage. Time to make himself at least a little useful.

"Weak radioactivity. Move it up a little," Hermione told him.

He did.

"That's a stronger reaction - barely, but it shows. Down a little."

He did. What else was he good for?

"And to the ground."

He did that as well. A dumb robot could have done this. Or a trained monkey.

"Alright, come back."

He walked back, sighing. Another experiment completed, no thanks to him. All he had done was get into a Noddy suit and hose down a cage. Pitiful…

He clenched his teeth. No, he was better than this. He wasn't useless. Not at all. Damn it!

He wasn't useless. He told himself that while he was hosed down in the hallway - no one wanted to risk DMSO mixed with radioactive compounds getting out, no matter how weak it was supposed to be.

Then he could finally pull off the mask and eat some chocolate.

By the time he joined Hermione in the laboratory, he was feeling better. He had done well, after all - not everyone could move and operate machines while wearing full protective gear. Not with enough precision to conduct an experiment. "So, what's the verdict?" he asked.

"Oh, the Dementor was still radioactive even though the cell and cage were clean;" she told him. "Though it could be that its rags soaked up the solution - but the effect was measurable in the head area as well, where the rags weren't as thick, so I'm cautiously optimistic that DMSO is working."

"Unless it works on the rags," he pointed out.

"That is possible - but since they are part of the Dementor's body, that's a success as well," she replied. She smiled at him. "Thank you. I know how hard it is to face that… monster."

"No problem," he lied. "It's the least I can do."

"No, it's not!" She glared at him. "You're facing mental torture every day!"

He shrugged. "I can handle it."

"That doesn't diminish what you're doing." Her glare didn't let up until he smiled.

*****​

"We've got a problem," wizarding Ron told them as soon as he stepped through the portal.

"What's happened?" Hermione asked, tensing up.

The wizard handed her a magazine. "The Quibbler's special edition. Luna's dad proposes using a Dominican Dream Eater to treat Hogmeade's residents."

"It's The Quibbler," she retorted as she flipped through the magazine. "No one takes it seriously."

"No one takes the conspiracy theories seriously, but they've a decent reputation among Magizoologists," Ron's counterpart told her. "And with St Mungo's not able to treat everyone - potions of Dreamless Sleep only work in far too high doses to be safe - the Ministry's jumping on anything that might help the victims."

"So they'll want a Dominican Dream Eater," Ron said as Hermione frowned. "What did Luna tell her dad about the one she took from him?"

"That she was taking it to a new habitat that was better suited for it," Hermione replied.

"The Ministry wants to talk to her. I managed to get the assignment," wizarding Ron said.

"Great." Hermione sighed and closed the magazine. "Just what Luna wanted."

Ron's counterpart blinked. "Do you think she's behind the article?"

"She's been spending a lot of time with my Luna," Ron said. Who had spent too much time with Dumbledore.

"Oh."

"We don't know," Hermione cut in. "So we shouldn't assume she went behind our backs."

"And it's not the end of the world," Ron's counterpart said. "We just need a good cover story and to keep Luna from spilling the beans."

Which was far easier said than done, Ron knew.

*****​

Unnamed Highlands, Scotland, May 3rd, 2006

"Of course we'll send Snappy to St Mungo's!" wizarding Luna exclaimed, jumping up from her seat and pacing in the area near the habitats. "Daddy had the right idea - Snappy can help all those poor people!"

'Daddy had the right idea'? Ron couldn't tell if the witch was honest about her father having had the idea or if she had told him to write the article. He glanced at Luna, who nodded emphatically. Luna would absolutely do such a thing to deflect suspicion. But would her counterpart? And while Luna had no qualms about lying to 'the government', she was honest with her friends.

But she had been spending a lot of time with Dumbledore. And she was aware that Ron and his friends didn't quite approve of the Lunas' plans for saving nature. He could ask - but that would put the Lunas on the spot. And show that he didn't trust them in this.

"And what if Snappy overeats again?" Hermione asked.

"Uh… I'll be with him, and ensure that he won't!" wizarding Luna nodded several times with a serious expression. "We won't have a repeat of The Great Hogsmeade Disaster!"

"'The Great Hogsmeade Disaster'?" Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"It's a fitting name, isn't it?" Luna said. "It wasn't intentional, after all, and 'The Hogsmeade Incident' sounds a little too ominous - the Ministry would be able to blame it on dark wizards more easily with such a name."

That was exactly what they were doing, of course.

"Natural disasters don't break through the protections of every house in a village," Hermione retorted.

"They don't need to if the protections don't work against the disaster - not that Snappy is a disaster!" wizarding Luna shook her head. "It's not his fault that we overfed him."

"But they might blame it - him - for this, once they examine him and discover he can fade through most protections," Hermione pointed out. "The Ministry will blame him for the disaster."

"But…" Wizarding Luna pouted. "We can't just let those people suffer when we - and Snappy - can help them!"

"And the Ministry won't just give up on a potential cure for the nightmares, either. If they can't get Snappy, they'll probably get another Dream Eater," Ron's counterpart added.

"By hiring poachers, I bet!" Luna scoffed. "And they might hurt or even kill Dream Eaters in their greed - muggle poachers often kill the parents to steal the young animals for zoos and rich clients."

And not so rich clients, Ron silently added. But Luna was correct - if the wizarding Lovegoods couldn't provide a Dream Eater, the Ministry might get one anyway. Or a handful of them.

"And they know you've got one - your dad told the Ministry that," wizarding Ron pointed out. "We'll have to come up with a cover story."

"That's easy - we'll just tell the truth: Luna took Snappy to a better habitat to examine him safely before releasing him back into the wild," Luna said. "It just won't be the whole truth."

That sounded… good, actually. As long as they could keep the Dream Eater from vomiting more nightmare fragments - and from displaying his ability to go through most standard protections on wizarding homes.

Which would be tricky. But what alternative did they have?

He nodded. So did Hermione - though grudgingly. And his counterpart nodded as well.

And Ron still didn't know for certain if wizarding Luna's dad had written his article prompted by one or both of the Lunas or not.

*****​

Forbidden Forest, Scotland, Wizarding World, May 3rd, 2006

"Come on, Snappy! It won't hurt - I promise!" wizarding Luna said, waving at the Dream Eater. "It's just a Portkey. You don't mind Portkeys, do you?"

"He shouldn't - he's already whirling around himself," wizarding Ron commented.

"That might actually make him dislike Portkeys," Hermione pointed out. "The rotation might counter his own:"

"Couldn't we counter that by doing it upside down so the rotation matches?" the wizard asked.

Hermione blinked. "That might work… depending on how Portkeys work."

"Did Snappy ever encounter a Portkey before?" Ron asked. "Luna?"

Both Lunas looked at him before wizarding Luna replied: "No. At least not while he was with Daddy or me. He's just afraid of eating himself sick again - we're close to Hogsmeade, after all. Well, relatively close compared to the distance to his home forest or our habitat. I'll just have to explain to him that this time, things will be different!"

Good luck with that, Ron thought. He wasn't even sure how smart the creature was. He would've assumed it wasn't sapient, but who knew with such a weird magical creature?

"Well, if he doesn't know about Portkeys, he won't shy away from them either," Ron's counterpart said.

"What? You don't just spring such a thing on him!" Wizarding Luna frowned at the wizard. "That could scare him! And he'd lose all trust in us!"

"What about Apparition?" Hermione asked.

"I would like to get him used to other forms of transportation," wizarding Luna replied. "Ideally, he'll be able to choose which form he likes best."

"Uh… I think that would be best done when the Ministry isn't waiting for us to come help the people in St Mungo's," Ron's counterpart suggested.

"Oh." The witch blinked. "You're right. I didn't think of that. Alright, Snappy - let's go. And remember: Don't stuff yourself!"

Ron didn't see the Dream Eater react in any way to wizarding Luna's admonishment, but after a long look, she nodded with apparent satisfaction. "OK, let's go!"

*****​

St Mungo's, London, Wizarding Britain, Wizarding World, May 3th 2006

The lobby of the hospital hadn't been turned into an emergency holding area for patients, Ron noticed as he followed Hermione, his counterpart and wizarding Luna to the reception, where a harried-looking wizard was talking to a middle-aged witch missing one of her legs entirely. Neither were the hallways on both sides lined with cots. Then again, with Extension Charms, wizards could just enlarge any room to hold dozens of cots.

"...just sit down. A Healer will be with you as soon as they're free."

"But I've been waiting for hours! And my leg's still splinched!" she gestured towards a bench behind her. Ron looked and saw a leg, still wearing stockings and shoes, leaning against it. No one was batting an eye at the sight of it.

"All our Healers are very busy, but they'll treat you as soon as possible, ma'am."

"Why are they busy? I don't have a nightmare or a curse - I just need my leg reattached!"

"Ma'am, everyone is working on the Hogsmeade attack no matter their usual assignments."

Ron winced. That was, sort of, their fault. But they were here to fix it.

"I can reattach your leg if you wish. But I'm not a trained Healer," Hermione cut in.

The witch turned to look at them, and her eyes widened. "Oh! But you're…"

"Yes, we are," Hermione said. "And we're here to deal with the Hogsmeade situation."

"Snappy will help!" wizarding Luna added with a smile.

Ron could tell the moment the witch noticed the Dream Eater - her eyes widened even more and she gasped loudly. "Merlin's beard! What is that?"

"It's a Dominican Dream Eater!"

Ron turned, one hand going under his jacket before he recognised Luna's - wizarding Luna's - father.

"Daddy!"

"Luna!"

The two hugged each other.

"I've missed you so!"

"I missed you, too, Daddy!"

Mr Lovegood released his daughter and turned to Snappy. "And there's the Dream Eater!"

For a moment, Ron thought Mr Lovegood would hug the creature as well - even though he had no idea how that would work - but the wizard refrained from doing so. Instead, he peered closely at it - so closely, the whirlwind started to tug on his wild mane. "And he looks to be in perfect health! You must have found the perfect habitat for him."

"Not perfect - food is an issue," wizarding Luna replied. "We'll have to make sure he doesn't overeat here since he's not used to so many nightmares. His stomach won't be able to handle it."

"His stomach? What stomach?" The witch missing a leg had regained her voice. "What is that, anyway?"

"You haven't read The Quibbler?" Mr Lovegood smiled. "It's a Dominican Dream Eater. They eat nightmares. I think he can help the people of Hogsmeade here, but we'll need to test that."

"Carefully test it," Ron's counterpart added. "That's why we're waiting for an expert from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures before we start anything." he checked his watch. "They're late, though."

A member of the… Ron frowned. He hoped it wasn't…

"Auror Weasley! Miss Granger! Mr Weasley! Miss Lovegood. Xenophilius!"

...Wilkinson. Just perfect - the one wizard in the Ministry who might connect the dots.

"Mr Wilkinson." Hermione nodded at him.

Wizarding Luna sniffed. Her father, though, smiled. "Humphrey! I thought you were on Dementor duty."

"I was!" Wilkinson replied. "But they pulled me off Azkaban for this because I've worked with all of you before."

"How fortunate for you." Wizarding Luna's father beamed. "Even the worst Department in the Ministry cannot ignore talent like yours forever!"

"They'll just send you back to Azkaban as soon as you're done here," wizarding Luna said.

"Well, the Dementors are very interesting." Wilkinson grimaced. "It's just that they're a little too close on Azkaban to be able to study them."

Ron snorted. That was probably true.

The wizard at the desk had been watching them without saying a word until now. "Uh… I'll contact Healer Brown."

"The Head Healer at St Mungo's," Ron's counterpart helpfully told them.

It didn't take long for a frowning, scowling older witch to arrive. "What seems to be the problem?" she asked, with all the warmth of an Arctic winter day.

"We're here for the test," Mr Lovegood said.

"That foolish proposal of yours?" The Healer scoffed.

"It has the full support of the Ministry," Wilkinson told her with a frown.

"That doesn't mean anything. The Ministry has given their 'full support' to the most idiotic projects and ideas." The Healer sneered. "If not for the special circumstances surrounding this situation, I strongly doubt that they'd give either of you the time of day."

"Ah, but they did," Mr Lovedgood said. "And we'll prove that Dream Eaters are a working alternative to Obliviation when dealing with cursed nightmares. And to overdosing your patients on potions of Dreamless Sleep."

Oh, dear Lord! They were treating nightmares by erasing the memories of them? Ron wasn't a wizard, nor was he a psychologist, but that sounded like a terrible idea.

"You're not going to set this… creature on any of my patients! Not in my hospital! Not on my watch!"

"How fortunate then," Mr Lovegood retorted, "that we have a few volunteers who won't be under your care any longer."

For a moment, Ron thought the Healer would refuse anyway. But the witch scoffed and turned away. "Suit yourself. I wash my hands of this." She glared at the wizard behind the desk. "Grover! Send them to the spare storage room."

The wizard looked like he wanted to protest, but nodded meekly at her glare.

"'Spare storage room'?" Hermione asked.

The Healer scoffed again. "We're filled to capacity and beyond. Any suitable space is needed for our patients. A spare storage room is all we can spare for 'experiments'."

Ron couldn't help but wonder why the hospital hadn't turned even a spare storage room into a sickroom if they were that pressed for space.

*****​

"That's all we can spare."

She didn't like it, but facts were facts.

"Are you sure?" Ron asked, eyeing the small pile of supplies in the middle of the tent. "We've got a lot more potions."

"Potions that we might urgently need. We can't duplicate the vials," she told him. "And brewing takes time which we might not have in an emergency. We're already brewing what we can, but we still cannot replace the more exotic potions."

"But while we might or might not need a potion, the Order does need the potions. That's why they asked for what we can spare."

She pursed her lips. That was obvious, wasn't it? But… "If we fail, the war's lost. We can't afford to fail." She shook her head. "It might appear selfish, but it isn't."

"Tell that to the others." He narrowed his eyes at her.

"Oh, I will," she replied.

"We can't tell anyone about our mission," he reminded her. "Remember Dumbledore's last orders!"

She bit her lower lip. He was right. "We still can't give up our own supplies."

"But we can't let the others suffer," Ron told her.

"I have the solution!" Harry suddenly cut in.

Both of them looked at their friend. Instead of brooding, Harry was smiling. Grimly and without much, if any, humour, but he was smiling.

"We'll raid a potion shop," he told them.

*****​

 

[Robert Stadler]

The experiments on the dementor remind me of an item from the Evil Overlord List -
I will treat any beast which I control through magic or technology with respect and kindness. Thus if the control is ever broken, it will not immediately come after me for revenge.

 

[Starfox5]

The experiments on the dementor remind me of an item from the Evil Overlord List -
I will treat any beast which I control through magic or technology with respect and kindness. Thus if the control is ever broken, it will not immediately come after me for revenge.

Click to shrink...

Since Dementors already want to kill you (and your family, friends, pets, and pretty much every human on earth), and you plan to wipe them out, treating them differently won't actually change their disposition.

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 75: The Cure

St Mungo's, London, Wizarding Britain, Wizarding World, May 3rd 2006

As they followed Healer Grover to the storage room, Ron pondered the Head Healer's claim. The hospital was filled to capacity - that he was sure was the case. The population of an entire village needing medical treatment? That would put a strain on any health service. And Wizarding Britain only had one hospital.

But room wasn't the problem. Not when you could use magic to turn a closet into a ballroom. Trained personnel would be the bottleneck - Healers were in demand even when there weren't such crises, as their recruitment of Rosengarten had shown.

So why would they be sent to a 'spare storage room', and why was Healer Grover so nervous?

Ron cleared his throat. "Healer Grover?"

The wizard jerked before stopping and turning to face him. "Yes?"

"What's wrong with the storage room?"

"Wrong?" Grover replied quickly. Too quickly for him not to know the answer.

"Yes," Hermione cut in. "What's wrong with it?"

"And why didn't you just enlarge a closet or something?" Ron added.

"Ah… you're conducting an experiment; you need a chamber with strong protections, in case something goes wrong. We don't want to endanger the hospital - certainly not now when we have so many patients." Grover smiled weakly at them.

That sounded logical - but why was Grover so nervous?

"And a storage room has those protections?" Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"Uh…" Grover sighed. "It wasn't always a storage room. It used to be a ritual chamber."

"As I understand it - and I researched the matter while I was at school - rituals were replaced by wand- and potion-based treatments centuries before the Statute of Secrecy came into effect," Hermione told him.

"Which was quite a narrow-minded decision," wizarding Luna added with a pout. "Just because something is inefficient doesn't mean it's useless."

"So," Hermione went on, "why would you have converted a ritual chamber to a storage room instead of turning it into a curse-treatment room? The protections on the chamber must be very old."

Which, Ron knew, meant that they would be very powerful.

"Ah, yes…" Grover's smile grew even more forced. "But there were a few circumstances that made such a conversion impractical."

"Such as?" Hermione asked in a sharp voice. "We're about to conduct a very important experiment there. We need to know what's wrong with the room."

"It's haunted." The Healer sighed and hunched his shoulders.

"Haunted?" Wilkinson blinked. "You've got a haunted room in St Mungo's? That's… Why hasn't the Department dealt with it?" He frowned. "Although ghosts can't do anything to you, so that shouldn't be a problem for us."

"A ghost could very easily disrupt an experiment by distracting the wizard or witch conducting it at the wrong time," Hermione pointed out. "Potions come to mind as well."

"Oh, right. That would be a bother," Wilkinson said. "Although perhaps a silencing or privacy charm might work to prevent such interruptions. But we could also move it - or call an expert in dealing with ghosts. After all, we regularly move the ghosts of the departed out of St Mungo's, don't we?"

"This is a little more complicated." Grover sighed again. "The ghost in question is the remnant of a Healer who was conducting a ritual that went wrong and cost them their life. Multiple attempts to banish it have been made but without success - as far as I know, the ghost is somehow tied into the room's protections."

Ron glanced at Hermione. The way she winced showed that this was a bad thing. The way wizarding Luna and her father's eyes lit up showed it was also a very interesting thing.

"Oh! A ghost tied into old wards?" Luna beamed. "That's rare!"

"Indeed!" her father agreed. "I'm only aware of five such cases in Britain!"

"Five?" Wilkinson blinked. "I only know about three!"

"Two were in private manors which didn't survive the war," Mr Lovegood told him.

"Oh."

Grover winced. "Please don't tell anyone that I told you about it. The details, I mean. I wasn't supposed to tell you that, but…" He trailed off.

"You didn't want to be held responsible if the ghost disrupted our experiment, did you?" Ron narrowed his eyes at the man.

Grover's weak smile was answer enough. Not strong enough to stand up to the Head Healer even though he knew he was being set up.

"What exactly does the ghost do?" Hermione asked.

"Well, it seems to mostly… run experiments? We're not actually sure what it's doing," Grover replied. "There's a slight language barrier."

"Just how old is this ghost? St Mungo's isn't that old," Hermione said.

"As far as we know, they were one of Mungo Bonham's mentors. The founder of St Mungo's," Grover added with a glance at Ron.

"In the seventeenth century," Hermione said. "Still, that's not too far from modern English."

Grover sighed once more. "We haven't been able to identify the language. Not even Mungo Bonham himself managed it."

"Oh." Wizarding Luna blinked. "But didn't the Healer speak English as well?"

"As far as we know, yes - he wouldn't have been able to talk to Bonham otherwise, would he? But the ghost has never spoken a single word in English. At least as far as we know."

"And what kind of experiments does he do?" Hermione asked.

"We don't know. It's hard to tell - we can only see him and his clothes; we can't see what it's supposedly manipulating. Sometimes it's clear that he's brewing - or going through the motions, it's not as if there's an actual result." Grover sighed. "I'm sorry about this; normally, we would let you use one of our treatment rooms, but they're all being used around the clock ever since the incident."

Hermione scoffed. "More reason to not hinder us since we actually have a promising approach for resolving this situation."

"Well, the Head Healer…"

"...is an idiot, yes, we noticed." Hermione sighed. "Well, we won't let a ghost keep us from conducting the experiment. Let's go."

Grover cringed again and led them to the stairs. "It's in the basement."

"You've got a storage room without a lift connecting to its floor?" Ron asked. Weird, but with magic, it probably was...

"Err… we don't really use it as a storage room. That's just what's it called for, you know, our budget," Grover replied.

Ah. Ron shook his head behind the Healer's back. Once again, he had proof that Wizarding Britain wasn't very different from his own country. The stories Percy and Dad had told him about what departments did for their budget! Although those weren't literal ghost stories...

They went down two flights of stairs - old ones. Worn stone steps and walls that wouldn't have been out of place in the Tower of London's basement. He spotted dust on the ground as well - this wasn't a location anyone regularly frequented.

Which made him tense slightly. He didn't expect an ambush, but as Moody had drilled into him: Constant vigilance! They were isolated, out of earshot of the rest of the building, and the Head Healer obviously didn't like them. And the only witness who knew where they were going was an older witch missing a leg - easily dealt with by wiping her memory. If Grover was killed, he would also be the perfect scapegoat.

He almost snorted. Perhaps he was a little paranoid. What would be the motive? Would the Head Healer really attempt to murder them - and she'd need accomplices for that - over some professional antipathy? If she were a dangerous dark witch, wouldn't the Aurors have found out already? And if she were a dark witch and had managed to keep it secret, would she risk her cover in a fit of piqué? She wouldn't have had a lot of time to plan this in advance, after all.

They reached a massive old wooden door - with metal bands strengthening it - and he dropped the thought. Time to face a ghost.

Grover fumbled with some antique-looking keys, and Ron saw Hermione tap her leg with her wand, probably one moment away from opening the door with magic. Unless the protections would prevent that. Old protections were more powerful, she'd explained.

Grover finally managed to get the door unlocked and opened it. The squeaking noise from the hinges made Ron clench his teeth. Another sign that this room wasn't used. And it was almost empty, too - there was only one barrel and one crate, stashed right next to the door, and Ron was certain they were empty or filled with rubbish. He didn't see a ghost, though.

"Poor ghost. How is he supposed to learn English when no one is talking to him?" Wizarding Luna must have had the same thought.

"Err… ghosts cannot learn new languages," Wilkinson said. "They're just imprints of a dying wizard or witch's consciousness."

"That's not true! The ghosts at Hogwarts learn the students' names! They speak English! And they learn new things all the time! I've read The Quibbler to them, and we discussed the articles!" wizarding Luna protested.

"Well, that's probably due to them being at Hogwarts. It's such a magic-rich place, the normal rules often don't apply."

Wilkinson was talking out of his ass, in Ron's opinion.

"Really? I never found any case where the rules were different at Hogwarts compared to the rest of Wizarding Britain," Hermione said.

"Except for the curfew rules. And the hallway rules. No such rules in the Ministry," wizarding Luna added, nodding a few times.

Ron had to suppress a giggle at that - that could've come from his Luna.

"Well, did you study the ghosts as well?" Wilkinson asked.

"Did you study them?" Hermione shot back.

"I'd certainly like to study this one," wizarding Luna's dad said.

Ron looked ahead. The room was empty, wasn't it? But the others all nodded. Oh. Muggles couldn't see ghosts, could they? Although if he squinted, he could make out a hint of an eerie glow…

"Oh, I've never heard this language before!" Wizarding Luna's dad was positively beaming. "How exciting!"

"It sounds a little like a monkey," wizarding Luna said. "A happy monkey."

"You're right!" Wilkinson added. "The chittering does remind me of a monkey. Though I wouldn't say they're happy."

"They would be screeching if they were unhappy," wizarding Luna retorted. "Perhaps the wizard was a monkey-tongue? Or would that be a monkey's paw?"

"That's something different," Hermione told her. "But I've never heard of any magical talent that allows you to talk to monkeys."

"Oh, you don't need a magical talent to do that," wizarding Luna replied. "Monkeys are quite smart. It'd just be more convenient for you to speak in their own language, I think."

"I don't think they have a language, though," Wilkinson said.

Ron pressed his lips together. Everyone could see and hear the ghost except for him. Typical.

"They can communicate, but I don't know if it's enough to qualify as a language," Hermione pointed out.

"A magic monkey language, like Parseltongue," wizarding Luna told her. "Lost when the last wizard who could speak it died in a ritual accident before he could father children. What a tragedy!"

"Oh, yes - do you want to write the article, Luna?"

"Oh, I'm very busy - you can write it, Daddy!"

"Alright!"

"We haven't confirmed that this is a magical language," Hermione objected.

"But we haven't confirmed that it isn't one, either," Mr Lovegood retorted. "And the evidence points toward it being a language. Why else would the wizard speak it?"

"He could've been cursed," Hermione speculated. "Unable to talk in an intelligible manner."

"A Monkey-Tongue Curse?" Mr Lovegood perked up. "That's a fascinating idea!"

Ron had the distinct impression that The Quibbler would somehow present both theories as true in the next edition.

"Please… don't mention the ghost," Grover spoke up. "It's a sort of embarrassing secret of the hospital. We don't want researchers and the curious to visit."

"Don't worry! All our sources will be kept anonymous!" the older wizard assured the man.

"Yes. Protecting your sources is crucial for any journalist who is searching for the truth amongst the government lies."

For a moment, Ron thought Luna had taken the place of her counterpart. But no - Luna wouldn't be able to see or hear the ghost either. Although… if he closed his eyes, he could almost hear something high-pitched. Like if someone had… He blinked. "What if he's not chittering, but merely talking very, very fast?"

Hermione frowned. "Wouldn't someone have tested that already?"

Grover cleared his throat. "Ah, we didn't, uh, do many tests, I don't think. Not in the last few, uh, decades or so."

"You locked up the poor ghost down here, all alone!" Wizarding Luna glared at the Healer.

"We couldn't exactly let him roam, could we?" Grover protested. "And it's not as if he seems to mind it. He's ignoring us, isn't he?"

"I would ignore my captors as well!" wizarding Luna shot back. "That's perfectly natural."

"Did you actually lock him up, or did he never leave the room anyway?" Ron asked.

"Who knows? It's been centuries," Grover replied.

"That's the kind of attitude that leads to Basilisks growing to monstrous sizes in your basement," Wilkinson told him with a frown.

"Are you honestly comparing the Chamber of Secrets to St Mungo's basement?" Hermione sounded incredulous.

"The principle is the same," Wilkinson replied.

"And the poor Basilisk didn't hurt anyone until Voldemort took control of her!" Wizarding Luna shook her head. "With that sort of attitude, I'm worried about whether or not we can trust you with Snappy!"

"Which is why we're here," Hermione said. "And as interesting as this ghost is, we have an experiment to run."

"We're still waiting for our test subjects," Mr Lovegood corrected her. "We can't conduct the experiment without them."

"So, while we wait, let's investigate Mr Ghost a little more!" Wizarding Luna cheered. "He must have been so lonely here!"

"He's still ignoring us," Grover pointed out.

"That's because it's probably stuck in a routine," the witch retorted. "Animals who are kept in small cages often develop such behaviour. It's very, very sad."

"That's why there are strict regulations about the size of pet cages," Wilkinson added. "Though I'm not aware of any regulations for ghosts. Or cursed ghosts."

"The ghost isn't reacting to us at all," Hermione replied. "That's not normal behaviour."

"It's stuck in a routine."

Ron frowned. "Like a broken hologram?"

"An apt description, yes," Hermione agreed.

"Is it actually a ghost?" Ron asked. "If it doesn't behave like any ghost that you know?"

"What else could it be?" Grover replied. "It is intangible and glows and floats!"

"An animated mirage," Mr Lovegood said.

"A projection," Hermione told Grover.

"A manifested thought," wizarding Luna added. "Though that would also cover a ghost. But there's a theory that an imperfect imprint would result in a ghost without sapience."

"Whether or not ghosts are sapient beyond aping human thoughts like a portrait hasn't yet been decided," Wilkinson pointed out.

"By the Ministry. Fortunately, sapience doesn't depend on acknowledgement by the Ministry, or most of Wizarding Britain would lack any sentience," wizarding Luna said, "what with their history of inefficiency and ineptitude!"

"Hey!" Wilkinson protested.

"Present company excepted, of course," Mr Lovegood quickly said.

"That remains to be determined," wizarding Luna corrected her father.

*Hey!"

She really had it in for Wilkinson. Ron wondered about the story behind that. But this wasn't the time to dwell on that. It wasn't the time to focus on some random ghost, either - but as long as the test subjects hadn't arrived yet, he couldn't see the harm. It kept both wizarding Luna and Hermione too busy to worry or let something slip. Or butt heads with the Ministry.

"We need a recorder so we can record the ghost and see if it's actually sped up English," Hermione said.

"Can you record ghosts?" Ron asked.

"With magic, yes," she replied.

"Ah." Was this a case like with the Dementors, where muggles couldn't see them, but wizards could, even through the same cameras? Or something else?

"I can go and fetch a recorder from the Ministry," Wilkinson said. "We just had a banshee case where we needed proof of the target."

But before the man reached the door, it opened, and another Healer - this one a middle-aged witch - led two witches, both younger, inside and then promptly left again.

"Ah! Our test subjects!" Mr Lovegood exclaimed. "Miss Smith and Miss Storndotter?"

The two witches, who had been staring at the Dream Eater and, presumably, the ghost Ron couldn't see, turned to face the wizard.

"Stormdottar," one of them - blonde and rather petite - corrected him. "We've been told that you can free us from these nightmares the Healers insist aren't serious enough to deserve priority treatment." The glare she sent to Grover showed that she didn't share this assessment.

"That's what we're here to find out," Hermione said. "You've been informed that this is an experimental treatment?"

"Yes, yes," Stormdottar replied with a frown. "I don't care as long as I can finally have a good night's sleep again without dreaming about being devoured alive by Chocolate Frogs and Ice Mice." She scoffed. "And I could do without having to explain again to some inexperienced Healer that I haven't had any traumatic experiences with either sweet."

Ron winced. If the Healers were looking for trigger memories when the nightmares were actually fragments from someone else's memories…

"Yes," the other witch spoke up. "I wake up every night drenched in sweat because of nightmares! This has to stop!"

"What happens in these nightmares?" Grover asked, which earned him another glare. "It might be relevant to the treatment."

"Not to our knowledge," Hermione corrected him. "Were you informed of the details of the experimental treatment?"

"We've read the article, yes," Smith said. She nodded emphatically, but she was glancing at the nearby Dream Eater, Ron noticed.

"As long as it works," Stormdottar repeated herself, "I don't care what you do. I was about to drink a pint of Dreamless Sleep and damn the risks!"

"Is that sufficient for the Ministry and St Mungo's?" Hermione asked.

Wilkinson nodded, as did Grover - though the latter did so with much more reluctance.

"Good. Then let's start. Ignore the ghost, please," Hermione said, waving her wand to conjure two simple beds.

"It's not a ghost," wizarding Luna said.

"We haven't tested that," Wilkinson retorted.

"And we won't. The ghost isn't part of the experiment," Hermione explained. With a glance at Grover, she added: "But the hospital was unable to procure another room for this."

Stormdottar sniffed. "Gran always said that standards had slipped ever since her father quit the hospital."

Grover's polite smile grew even more strained.

Hermione, though, was all business. "Please lie down in the beds and relax. We'll use a potion to send you to sleep."

"And then Snappy will gobble up your nightmares!"

Wizarding Luna's enthusiasm didn't seem to reassure the two witches, but they still did as they were told.

Grover handed each of them a vial of a sleeping potion. Stormdottar downed hers at once. Smith looked at it, then at the Dream Eater, before grimacing and drinking it.

A moment later, both witches were asleep.

"Alright, Snappy!" Wizarding Luna raised a finger, then pointed at the two sleeping witches. "Their nightmares are your meal!"

"Are they dreaming already?" Wilkinson asked.

"I don't know. We haven't exactly tested for that," Grover replied.

"Typical," wizarding Luna said with a sniff.

"There was no reason to research such things. Not until this sudden crisis. And we're too busy to study those things right now."

"Perhaps you wouldn't be so busy now if you had studied such things. It's this attitude - this view that everything has to be useful and profitable - that cripples research and progress!"

That was a quote of Ron's Luna. Fortunately, before she could repeat Luna's views of government in general, Snappy started to float towards the beds. In which the two witches were starting to groan and move.

"They seem to be having nightmares," Grover stated the obvious. "And the animal must have…" The Healer trailed off as the Dream Eater started to feed, lowering itself down on to Stormdottar's head.

"Merlin's beard!" Grover muttered.

"Fascinating," Wilkinson added.

Once again, Ron saw the glowing translucent figures appear and vanish in the small vortex. A minute later, the witch started to relax, and the Dream Eater switched to Smith.

"Yes, Snappy, eat it all up! That's a good Dream Eater!" Wizarding Luna cheered as the other witch relaxed as well.

"It seems to be working," Hermione commented, "though we have yet to determine if this was just a temporary treatment."

Ron nodded. Time to wake up the witches, then make them fall asleep again.

*****​

"In conclusion, the first results are quite promising, though we haven't been able to verify that the effect lasts longer than a few hours," Hermione summed up a few hours later in the Head Healer's office.

"It could be a temporary suppression of the nightmares," Grover said before the Healer Brown could say anything. "Like potions of Dreamless Sleep."

"That's not true!" Wizarding Luna shook her head. "Snappy ate the nightmares! There's nothing left to cause a nightmare!"

"It ate memories?" Brown said, eyebrows raising.

"Dreams," Mr Lovegood replied. "Nightmares, to be specific. Not actual memories. It's theorised that Dream Eaters actually eat the trauma - the traumatic effect, not the memories - that cause nightmares."

"Eating trauma? Who came up with that?" Brown snorted derisively.

"I worked on that theory with Dancing Bear of the Sioux Tribe. She's a noted specialist for Dream Eaters and mental curses," the wizard told her.

"An American shaman." Brown openly scoffed.

"Snappy's from the New World," wizarding Luna said. "So, of course, the native wizards and witches would know best about his species."

That argument, sound as it was, obviously didn't move the Head Healer. "In essence, you haven't actually proven that the creature has had any significant effect."

"We've proven that having it eat the nightmares had a much better and longer lasting effect than the potions of Dreamless Sleep you were using before!" Hermione snapped.

"As a temporary measure while we work on an actual cure;" Brown countered.

"And you were trying to use Obliviation to cure the patients, weren't you?" Hermione narrowed her eyes. "That's the same method - removing traumatic memories - just less precise and potentially damaging to the patient's long-term memory."

"Yes! Snappy eats nightmares, not memories;" wizarding Luna said. "Although he probably also eats memories of nightmares. We're not sure about that, but it would make sense."

"Unless there's an emotion-dampening effect from his feeding," her father added. "But that could be explained by removing the trauma from the actual memory."

Ron wondered what an actual psychologist or psychiatrist would think of the whole thing. He was no expert, but it sounded all a little… well, magical.

Which was par for the course, of course, when dealing with curses.

"So, we can treat more patients, as long as Snappy won't overeat, and see how they fare," wizarding Luna said.

"Not in my hospital! It's far too dangerous! No one knows what long-term mental effects this… creature… will cause!"

"I've been feeding him for weeks without any problem!" wizarding Luna pointed out.

"And I was doing the same before Luna," her father added. "With artificially induced nightmares, of course."

Unsurprisingly, the wizarding Lovegoods didn't manage to sway the Head Healer. "My decision is final. Now take that creature out of my hospital!"

"You're being unreasonable!" wizarding Luna protested. "You can't stop us, anyway - we can treat people anywhere as long as we have the beds for them!"

"Get out!"

"Before we go," Wilkinson spoke up, "there's another matter to discuss."

"What?"

"The so-called ghost in the basement," Wilkinson explained. "It might not be a ghost at all, and, therefore, a potential new magical creature or effect, which needs to be studied by the appropriate authorities to ensure it's safe around patients."

"It's in a warded and locked room!"

"So were most of your current patients," Wilkinson retorted. "I'll have to inform the Department of Mysteries about it."

Brown sagged in her seat.

Ron was pretty sure that meant she had no chance of stopping the Ministry where the ghost was concerned.

Which was good - it would keep more Unspeakables busy. Though it would also keep them closer to the Dream Eater - although they would have probably investigated the creature anyway.

*****​

The Rookery, Ottery St Catchpole, Devon, Britain, Wizarding World, May 3rd, 2006

The wizarding Lovegood house really did look like a rook - the chess piece - Ron noticed after they appeared on the ground in front of it. And it was… tilted to the side. Like the Tower of Pisa. Only worse. He remembered wizarding Luna mentioning something about her home being 'a little crookedy', but he hadn't expected that it would be so bad.

None of the others commented on it, though, so he didn't speak up either as he followed them to the door.

"Come in, come in! Don't mind the mess!" Mr Lovegood cheerfully waved as he opened the door and revealed a round, cluttered room which was aligned to the leaning walls, not the floor. But the wizard stepped into the room without hesitation - and then stood as if gravity had changed direction.

Ron took a deep breath and entered himself. The room was bigger than the tower-like building was on the outside, and the walls were lined with shelves full of knick-knacks, with much of the floor covered in other oddities. Something moved near the ceiling - something small. A bat? He couldn't tell from the floor. But the Dream Eater floating into the room must have scared it off or into hiding - Ron caught a blur shooting to the back of the room, followed by something falling shut.

He glanced at Hermione. She didn't look annoyed - she seemed resigned. No, more fondly exasperated or something. She smiled wryly as she nodded at Mr Lovegood. "Thank you for hosting us."

"Don't word about it - it's the least I can do."

"It's still generous," Wilkinson said.

The wizard wasn't looking around nor did he seem surprised - he must be familiar with the place, Ron deduced.

He also caught wizarding Luna frowning at Wilkinson. He really had to ask her about this before it blew up in their faces.

And here was an opportunity to do so: Wilkinson followed Mr Lovegood down to the basement "to check up on the animals". As soon as they had closed the door behind them, Ron approached the witch. "Hey."

"Hmm?" She turned to him, her frown turning into a smile. The kind of smile his Luna wore when she was trying to hide her true feelings.

Well, best to get it over with. "You don't seem to like Wilkinson very much."

She scowled in return. "He works for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. They're the worst of the Ministry!"

He nodded - that fit what he knew of her, and of his Luna's attitude towards the government in general. But… "Your father seems to like him."

She scoffed. "Daddy's too trusting. Wilkinson claims he wants to change how the Ministry treats magical creatures, but he still works for them and enforces their policies! That's duplicitous!"

"That's normal for the Ministry," Hermione cut in. "If you want to reform the Ministry from within, you'll have to enforce laws and regulations that you might not agree with."

Luna sniffed. "Harry and Ron have been working on that for years, but the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures hasn't changed much. They still treat magical creatures as animals merely because they can't speak!"

"Ah." Ron nodded. "But what could Wilkinson do to change it?"

"Quit, of course! One less Ministry goon to oppress the minorities! The Ministry can only enforce their unfair policies if we all let them - and help them."

Yeah, that sounded familiar. Ron didn't like remembering that particular argument with Luna. "What alternatives to working for the Ministry does he have?"

"He could become a Magizoologist, like Daddy. Or an activist for better treatment for magical creatures! Instead, he keeps talking about making changes without ever making any."

"Not everyone is willing to abandon safe employment to follow their ideals," Hermione pointed out.

"Which is why the world's in such a terrible state!"

Before Ron could reply, he heard Mr Lovegood and Wilkinson on the stairs. "...and as you saw, all creatures are kept according to Ministry regulations."

"I'll note that," Wilkinson said as he entered the room behind wizarding Luna's father. "The basement is safe and big enough to treat patients there."

"And the sight of so many magical creatures should help soothe them," Mr Lovegood added.

Wizarding Luna nodded with a smile, and Ron and - presumably - Hermione held their tongues. If the basement looked even remotely similar to the Lunas' habitat, then Ron wouldn't feel particularly reassured.

"Unless it excites them," Hermione said, "and makes it harder to sleep."

"We'll give them a potion anyway." Wizarding Luna made a dismissive gesture with her hand. Then she blinked. "Do we have enough?"

"I can get more from the Ministry," Wilkinson said with a smile. "I'll be right back."

He stepped outside, and a moment later, Ron heard the tell-tale sound of Apparition.

"He didn't even ask how many we need." Wizarding Luna huffed.

"I'm sure he'll bring enough - Snappy can't eat too many nightmares, anyway, can he?" her father replied.

The witch kept frowning even as she nodded.

After a moment, Hermione spoke up: "So, let's prepare the room for treating patients."

"It's almost ready - we just need to conjure beds."

And, Ron mentally added when he descended the stairs into the basement, a few walls. Strong, sturdy walls so the huge Hippogriff standing in the centre of the room wouldn't be able to get to them, should it feel hungry or want to 'play'. He couldn't see any form of restraint on it, either, and his gun felt pretty inadequate faced with a ton of claws, beak and muscles. At least Hermione had her wand and would be able to…

"Buckbeak?"

...beam at it?

The Hippogriff bowed its head.

"It is you!" Hermione walked towards him with a wide smile on her face, bowing in return halfway to the creature.

"Buckbeak?" Ron asked, trailing behind her. The room was the same size as the Lunas' base, he noticed, and he could see the same kind of habitats lining the walls as they had in the other world.

Hermione quickly turned to face him. "Bow to him, like I did. Hippogriffs are very proud."

Ah. Ron slowly bowed - without taking his eyes off the creature.

"We saved his life in our third year when Malfoy tried to have him executed after framing him for an attack," Hermione explained. "I didn't know he was living with you," she told the Lovegoods.

"Oh, he doesn't live here - he just likes visiting," Mr Lovegood said. "I think it's the treats we have for him."

The way the Hippogriff nodded, it - he - not only agreed but obviously understood the wizard.

"How does he enter and leave?" Ron asked, looking back at the stairs.

"We've got a tunnel in the back," wizarding Luna explained. "You don't think that we'd lock our guests up, do you?"

"Of course not." Even if that would make sense - the snake he could see coiled up in a corner looked as if it could swallow a man whole without unhinging its jaw.

"Oh, you look good."

Hermione was ruffling Buckbeak's feathers and petting his back.

Ron felt both out of place and a little jealous.

*****​

By the time Wilkinson returned, they had at least moved Buckbeak to the back and set up four beds surrounded by dividers. Sturdy dividers, solidly anchored in the ground - or magically stuck to it, at least. Ron would've preferred a solid roof - or a cage - but no one else seemed to share his concerns. Not that he had shared them in full - that might've made the Hippogriff angry.

And perhaps attracted a few of the other creatures eyeing the new addition to the basement from their habitats.

"Don't worry about Voly, he's just curious," wizarding Luna said, waving at what looked like a mole the size of a grizzly bear peering at them from a tunnel to the side. The thing waved back.

"Ah. That's a Voracious Mole, right?"

"Yes!" She beamed at him. "We've got the biggest colony of them in Britain! If you're lucky, you can see them hunt stags in the woods."

"Stags." They hunted stags. "Don't tell me that they lie in wait below the ground and then catch their prey and drag it into the tunnels that they've dug."

"You've seen them hunt already? Where? If there's a Voracious Mole in the wild, we need to check up on them to ensure they're in good health! And find them a mate, if possible."

The wizarding Lovegoods were breeding them? Ron looked at Hermione, but she was focused on the beds and walls. A little too focused, in his opinion.

"Come! I'll introduce you! Voly! Look! This is Ron - the other Ron. Not the Ron you already know!"

The creature looked even bigger up close. And those claws looked like they would allow the thing to dig through concrete. Reinforced concrete. Or bedrock. And the Erymanthian Boar would've been jealous of those fangs.

Ron tensed up as the creature sniffed at him, then tilted its head and chuffed.

"Oh, he likes you!"

That was good. Probably.

The creature sniffed him again. A huge drop of drool landed on his shoe.

That wasn't good.

Fortunately, the first patients arrived before Luna could present him to the rest of the pack "in their maze".

He wondered if the Weasleys knew that half a dozen bear-sized moles had tunnelled under their home and Quidditch pitch.

*****​

"...and just lie down here on the bed before drinking the potion," Hermione said.

"Is this safe?"

"This isn't the first time we've done this. It might not take, but it won't harm you," she told the older wizard.

"I didn't mean the, uh, Dream Eater." The wizard - Brian Barnuckle - nodded towards the Voles crammed into their tunnel.

"They won't enter the basement without permission," wizarding Luna said. "They're very well-behaved."

"Ah." Barnuckle didn't really seem reassured but nodded anyway. He looked pretty desperate, too - and quite exhausted. "Well then…" He drank the potion and fell asleep before his head hit the pillow.

Almost as quickly, the Dream Eater started to feed. By now, Ron was almost used to the sight.

"Remember, Snappy, don't overeat - tell me at once if you're full," wizarding Luna repeated herself for the third time in half an hour.

The creature didn't react in any way that Ron would have taken as communication, but the witch looked satisfied anyway.

Ah, well - as long as it worked… He wandered over to Hermione, who was waving her wand and scribbling down notes. "How are things?"

She huffed. "I'm just recording a few data points. This is where I really miss being able to use a computer."

"You could invent one," he suggested, half-seriously.

"I might have to."

She sounded serious.

"You don't have to do everything yourself," he told her. "That's what friends are for."

"None of them knows, not in detail at least, what I'm doing," she retorted. "I've got documentation, of course, but…"

She trailed off with a sigh and shrugged. "Teaching anyone what I've done would take longer than constructing a computer of my own. I think so, at least."

Ron thought that that sounded a little too… not vain, but a little arrogant. He didn't mention that, though, as he watched her cast spells and note down their results. This wasn't the time for that discussion.

*****​

"...and if we go by that, Buckbeak was defending his honour when he attacked Malfoy after being mortally insulted," she told her friends.

They didn't look very impressed, though. Ron frowned. "I'm not sure the duelling code applies to Hippogriffs."

"It was never limited to wizards and witches," she retorted. "And there are precedents - Veela and Sirens defending their honour, for example."

"They're different from Hippogriffs, though." Ron shook his head.

"That doesn't mean Buckbeak can't defend his honour!"

"Hermione. Do you really think the Wizengamot will vote to acquit him for attacking Malfoy for that reason?" Harry asked.

She sighed. "The odds are low, I know. But it's the best argument I've found. Anything else is just a death sentence." She clenched her teeth. That despicable excuse for a wizard was trying to get Buckbeak killed just to hurt others. How low could you go? Well, no matter how low it was, Malfoy would dig himself even lower.

She blinked. Oh. That might work. If the law didn't work, you had to break it. Buckbeak was being held in a paddock, after all, near Hagrid's Hut. Close to the Forbidden Forest. All they needed was an alibi. They wouldn't even need a tunnel for the jailbreak!

*****​

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 76: The Turning Point

The Rookery, Ottery St Catchpole, Devon, Britain, Wizarding World, May 3rd, 2006

"I'm sorry, but the Dream Eater is currently full - fully fed," Ron told the older witch standing in front of the Lovegood home.

"But…" She shook her head, half-sobbing. "Can't you make him eat my nightmares? Just mine? I've been waiting for so long, and… I can't take another night full of nightmares!"

He winced. She sounded desperate - and she looked haggard. And it was dusk already. But they couldn't risk having Snappy overeat again. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but we can't force the creature to eat any more," he lied.

"But… The Healers won't give me any more Dreamless Sleep! Please…"

Ron clenched his teeth. This was partially his own fault. "I'm very sorry, ma'am, but please come again tomorrow, and we'll treat you."

"I can pay you! I know the Weasleys aren't rich."

Ah. He shook his head. "I'm the muggle Weasley."

"Oh." She blinked. "Where's Ron Weasley, then? I want to speak to him!"

"He's not involved in this treatment," Ron explained.

"So who is in charge here?"

"Mr Lovegood and Miss Lovegood are," Ron told her. "This is their house," he added - unnecessarily. Or so he hoped.

"Then I want to talk to them! Please!"

The 'please' sounded like an afterthought, but she was obviously desperate. Ron suppressed a sigh and said: "I'll tell them. Please wait here."

"I will!" She conjured a seat for her while he closed the door.

Sighing, he descended the stairs. "Mr Lovegood?" The wizard was going over some notes with Hermione. Ron couldn't see wizarding Luna or Wilkinson. Grover had left already, of course - after 'Voly' had introduced himself to the Healer.

"Call me Xenophilius, Ron!"

"Xenophilius, Ron," he repeated.

Mr Lovegood chuckled, though Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "Very funny," she said in a flat voice.

"Oh, but it was," the wizard contradicted her.

Ron grinned and sketched a bow. "I'll be here all night."

"Really?"

"It's a saying stand-up comedians use when they're on stage for the evening," Hermione explained.

"Anyway," Ron said, nodding towards the stairs. "There's a 'Madam Macmillan' outside who insists on talking to you, Xenophilius. She wants to get treated."

"Oh."

"We can't feed the Dream Eater any more nightmares," Hermione snapped.

"Of course not. But we can't leave the poor woman outside, can we? We'd be poor hosts!" The wizard smiled. "I'll talk to her. I'm sure we can find a solution."

Ron wasn't so sure. Not at all. He glanced at Hermione, who looked as if she had her own doubts. "Alright," he said. "She's waiting."

As he and Hermione followed Mr Lovegood up the stairs, he asked: "Where's Luna?"

"Mr Wilkinson wanted to see the habitat for the Dream Eater. She's showing him around."

"Let's hope she doesn't feed him to Voly by mistake." Ron blinked. He must be more tired than he had expected. He hadn't meant to blurt that out.

Mr Lovegood chuckled. "Oh, she won't. She doesn't like him - but it's not serious."

Ron wondered if that meant that if it was serious, wizarding Luna might feed someone to her animals.

"He's not a Death Eater," Hermione said. And - perhaps - answered his silent question.

"Oh, not at all! He's a muggleborn." Xenophilius closed the food behind them, then walked towards the door. "They've just got a difference of opinion about how to best help all the magical creatures in need."

Before Ron could say anything in reply, the wizard opened the door. "Mrs Macmillan? I'm Xenophilius Lovegood."

"Madam Macmillan, please."

"Madam. Please come in."

The witch did so, although she hesitated for a few seconds at the sight of the tilted floor.

"Good evening," Hermione said. "I'm Hermione Granger."

The other witch blinked, then nodded at her. "I've heard of you!"

"I think everyone has - in my absence," Hermione replied with a wry smile. "I'm still trying to teach my portrait that I am quite unlike my reputation."

That actually made the other witch laugh. But her humour was short-lived as she launched into her plea.

Mr Lovegood rubbed his chin. "I can see your point. This is a terrible situation. However, we cannot feed Snappy - that's the Dream Eater - any more nightmares."

"But I can't take another night full of nightmares!"

"And you don't need to!" Mr Lovegood beamed at her. "I've got just the remedy for this situation." He raised his wand and flicked it. A moment later, something flew towards him. A six-pack, Ron realised before the wizard caught and handed it to the older witch.

She took a look at it. "'Monster Energy'?"

The wizard nodded. "It's a muggle Energy Drink. Very powerful - drink a can every two hours, and you'll stay awake until the morning when we can treat you." He smiled. "I discovered it myself during an expedition to the New World."

"Oh!"

"See? If you don't sleep you won't have any nightmares!" Mr Lovegood beamed at Macmillan.

Ron blinked, then glanced at Hermione, who looked as surprised as he felt. That was… well, it might just work.

But for the effects of so much caffeine, of course. "You probably shouldn't overdo it," he said. "Too much of the drink isn't good for your health."

"Oh, a few cans won't do anything," Mr Lovegood said. "I've drunk half a dozen of them in a row before, trying to shoot a picture of a Crumple-Horned Snorkack. I almost got it too - but it used a hitherto unknown ability to make the picture all blurry and shaky."

"Ah." Ron managed not to wince.

"It's so sad - we could've had proof of their existence. Although it explains how they've managed to avoid being observed for so long," the wizard went on.

The witch, meanwhile, was fiddling with one of the cans. "How do you open this?"

"You don't need to drink one right now," Hermione told her. "In fact, you should wait until you feel very tired."

"I'm feeling very tired already!" Macmillan exclaimed. "I've barely slept in the last few days! Now how do you open this thing?"

Mr Lovedgood stepped in. "Oh, it's a clever muggle method. Do you see the ring on top? Just flip it up and keep pulling back! Yes, like that!"

It looked like another person would have a blurry and shaky morning.

*****​

Black Lake, Scotland, May 4th, 2006

"How is the Dementor reacting?" Ron asked, looking at the seemingly empty cage.

"It's trying to move out of the way of the laser," Hermione replied. "It definitely noticed it. But I can't detect any damage."

"Well, it's not exactly a powerful laser," Ron said.

"It's the most powerful laser that would fit the available space," Dumbledore cut in. "Although the results aren't promising - even if a stronger laser does have a noticeable effect, I doubt there's a practical way to use lasers in the field."

Ron nodded in agreement. Not that it mattered - he was sure the monster wouldn't be killed by laser guns, if those actually existed. It was just too powerful. Immune to so many attacks…

He shook his head and ate another chocolate bar. They were making progress - and it wasn't as if they could just waste time until the wizarding twins had their product ready. And, who knew, they might even find a way to kill the monsters in the meantime. Not that Ron really thought that they would.

"The water jet cutter's delivery was delayed - apparently, there was a mix-up with regards to our specifications, so they need to adjust the set-up or the machine won't fit in the hallway."

It figured that the most promising idea, cutting the monster with a high-pressure stream of water, was delayed. Nothing so far had worked. "So, what's next?" he asked.

"A break," Hermione replied. "Your temperature is falling again."

"Oh." Ron blinked, then checked his watch. Time flew when you were experimenting on Dementors.

He checked that both cage and door were locked and whole, then shuffled out of the hallway, munching the next chocolate bar.

Hermione was waiting for him at the door - had he taken so long to do the check? "My parents and my foster parents would be aghast at the amount of chocolate you're eating," she told him.

"I'm brushing my teeth three times per day," he replied. "And I'm flossing."

"They wouldn't worry about your teeth, but your weight and general health."

"Oh." He snorted. "I'm doing more exercise than ever." Running around the lake was a good way to clear his head after a day in close proximity to the Dementor. And running himself ragged felt good, too - something he could do and was good at.

"I know that, but they wouldn't," she said, smiling. "But, anyway, it's time for lunch. I was thinking we could have a picnic."

"On the shore?" That would annoy Smith - the man would have to organise a protection detail; MI5 still had some people on the premises.

That, of course, was another good reason to do it.

"I was thinking at the place where…" She trailed off.

The shore below the ruins - where Hogwarts stood in the other world. He nodded. "Sounds good. Let me change - we wouldn't want the spies wondering what we're doing here, now would we?"

"Disinformation is good, but I think that would only whet their interest in our work," she replied. "And we don't want that."

Not with their plans to use a spell to hide the entire project from everyone. The more people who knew about the project and the more they knew, the harder the spell would be to cast.

He nodded, smiled and went to change out of his Arctic Expedition suit before he suffered heatstroke here in the hallway.

*****​

Having a picnic always sounded better in theory than it was in practice, Ron reminded himself as he sat down on the cloth Hermione had spread over the grass on the shore. You had to haul all the food and drink around, including cutlery and dishes, find a nice spot which wasn't occupied and relatively even, and then eat without spilling your food while sitting on the ground. And fight off wasps, of course - well, perhaps not here. But it was usually quite an affair, and messy to boot. At least for the Weasley family.

On the other hand, the weather was lovely, and the kitchen crew had prepared a great spread of sandwiches and other finger food that could easily be eaten without making a mess, all packed in a basket that could've come straight from a period drama, and with all the needed utensils.

And the guards securing the perimeter were so discreet, Ron could pretend he hadn't seen them. He would've felt guilty for causing such an effort if he weren't aware of Dumbledore's fortune. And a little change of scenery was good for the guards; kept them on their toes, as Moody would say.

He finished his salmon sandwich and sighed. "This was a good idea."

"Thank you," Hermione replied. She leaned back, propping herself up on her hands, and craned her neck with her eyes closed. "I thought we needed it, after all that time in the basement."

"Yes." Ron briefly wondered what the MI5 spies would think since the microphones undoubtedly aimed at them were being countered by Hermione's spell. Probably some ECM device of Dumbledore's. "It's good to feel the sun." He saw her wince and felt guilty. But they had talked about that too often already. "Did you come here often when you were in school?"

"Not as often as I should've," she told him. "If Harry and Ron hadn't dragged me here, I probably would've spent all day in the library."

"As opposed to most of the day." He smiled at her, even more when he saw her frown.

She huffed.

"Nothing wrong with it," he told her. "I spent entire afternoons in the library as a kid." Much cheaper to borrow books than buying them. Especially comic books.

She laughed. "Ron wouldn't have been caught dead in a library. Then again, I don't think there's a library in Wizarding Britain that stocks fiction."

Ron exaggerated his horror at hearing that, but not by too much.

"To be fair, with the Duplication Charm, you can duplicate a book - provided it's not protected against such charms," Hermione explained.

He shook his head anyway. "Perhaps that should be another proposal to the Ministry."

"They'll claim there's no money for it."

"Sponsoring libraries is a tradition among the rich." Some of them, at least.

"Among muggles, yes," she replied. "But I guess it's a possibility." She smiled. "It's not a priority, though."

"Dumbledore would probably sponsor one - and use it to influence Wizarding Britain's youth," Ron said.

Hermione chuckled. "Oh, yes, I could see him doing that."

Ron nodded - he hadn't been joking as much as Hermione probably thought.

*****​

Greenwich, London, May 4th, 2006

"...and then the Lovegoods started to feed the nightmares to the Dream Eater. Last we heard, the treatment stuck," Hermione finished her tale as she cut her fish.

"I see," Gabriel said. "That was quite an accident."

Hermione pursed her lips. "It wasn't our fault - no one expected such a reaction. Not even the Lovegoods."

"Well, Xenophilius didn't know about the plan," Ron pointed out.

"Yes. But if he suspected that the Dream Eater could overeat and cause something like this, he would've mentioned it in the wake of the incident," she retorted.

"I don't think the Ministry would have approved of his proposed treatment if he had mentioned such a suspicion," Ron told her. "And if he had suspected that, he would also have assumed that wizarding Luna was involved."

Hermione pressed her lips together before she nodded. Grudgingly. "That's true, I suppose."

Ron smiled, as did Gabriel and Ellen, while Hermione pretended that she didn't notice. "Anyway, we're working on dealing with the Dementors. And on finishing our project."

"Ah." The other man nodded as he finished his own meal.

"Any timetable on that?" Ellen asked.

Once more, Hermione pursed her lips. "We're working on it. But there are a few challenges to overcome."

"But we're dealing with them," Ron said. "It's just that the Dementors take priority."

"And one of those monsters is in our world?" Gabriel looked concerned.

"Locked down tighter than Fort Knox," Ron replied. "It won't escape."

"It's a magical creature," Gabriel pointed out.

"That doesn't mean it can manifest powers at will, or apparate," Hermione said. "Such a thing would've been noticed long ago."

"Besides, if it could it would've fled already - we aren't exactly being gentle with it," Ron said.

"What? What are you doing?" Ellen looked at him and leaned forward.

"Destructive testing," Ron answered. "We need to find a way to kill them all."

Both older Grangers looked quite queasy at that.

"They aren't alive in our sense," Hermione said. "More like malign spirits with limited sapience."

"But still sapient?"

"We can't exactly test them," Ron told them. "But even if they were - they drive people mad and feed on memories. Then they kill their victims. They need to be destroyed."

The Grangers exchanged a glance which told Ron that they didn't quite agree with his opinion.

Well, they would, if they ever met a Dementor in the - rotten - flesh, he was certain.

Not that the odds of that happening were high. Hermione knew better than to expose more people to those monsters. Although… He glanced at her. She was a little quieter than he had expected. And she was biting her lower lip.

"Can you communicate with them?" Gabriel asked.

"In a limited manner, yes. They listen to commands, but the extent of their understanding - whether they are capable of complex thoughts or merely react instinctively like animals, with limited learning capability - is unknown," Hermione explained.

"So you might be preparing to commit genocide on an entire species that might be sapient?" Ellen asked. Her expression was… well, not quite shocked. But disturbed.

And Hermione winced. "So far, we haven't had any indication that they are actually sapient."

"You said they had limited sapience," Gabriel said.

"Yes." Hermione pressed her lips together.

"Shouldn't you find out whether or not they are sapient before you decide to... exterminate them?" Gabriel looked at her.

"That's rather hard, seeing as they only want to suck out your soul as soon as they see you," Ron cut in. "And they have an aura of decay and depression."

"Just because it's hard doesn't mean it shouldn't be done," Ellen told them.

Hermione winced again - that sounded like a saying she had heard often as a child. Or something she had said. "They've been known in Wizarding Britain for centuries. And for all that time, they have been guarding Wizarding Britain's only prison. When they're not feeding on muggles like they did in the war. If they were able to communicate, they would've done so long ago - they've had every opportunity to attempt it."

"They might be unable to understand humans - a totally alien world view with a different set of values and even understanding of the universe might do that," Ellen speculated.

Ron snorted. "That's possible. But that doesn't change the fact that they consider humans food." And most people didn't really empathise with the cow they were about to eat. Not to the point of no longer eating it, at least. "They might be unable or unwilling to change their views - either way, they are a danger to all humans, but especially muggles."

"You could lock them up, though, couldn't you? Seal them away?" Gabriel said.

"Their aura decays material. We could exile them to an island, but there would always be the danger of a dark wizard trying to recruit them," Hermione replied. "And, even if that were feasible, they would starve. Which doesn't exactly strike me as the most humane solution."

Ron snorted. "They're monsters. Just being near them makes you depressed and cold." He shook his head. "They're too dangerous." Too evil, too, but he doubted that the Grangers would consider that a convincing argument. They hadn't met the monsters. Not like he had.

"What about exiling them through your portal?" Gabriel asked.

"And endanger another world?" Hermione shook her head. "Not to mention that I haven't found another world yet. I might be limited to worlds that are very similar to ours, depending on how far I can vary the ritual and still make a connection. It's possible that there's a hard limit for how different two universes can be and still allow a portal to form."

"Is that a dynamic limit?" Ellen asked. "Could your world and our world… drift too far apart?"

"I don't think so. It's just a hypothesis anyway - but I doubt that that's a possible development. The existence of the wizarding world alone is a significant difference, and yet the universes were close enough for a portal."

"The only portal so far," Ron pointed out.

"Yes. But there's no reason there couldn't be other portals; I doubt that there are merely two different universes," Hermione retorted.

"But there's a chance that you could banish the Dementors?" Gabriel asked again.

"First, you'd have to find a way to force the Dementors to enter a portal. Speaking from my admittedly and fortunately limited experience, that's a very difficult task," Ron said.

"The Ministry managed to corral the Dementors that had escaped Azkaban during the war and transport them back, but it was a huge undertaking," Hermione explained. "We wouldn't be able to move them without revealing the existence of the portal to so many people that we wouldn't then be able to cast a Fidelius Charm to hide it."

"Oh."

"And we want those monsters destroyed, not just dumped on someone else," Ron added.

"Yes." Hermione nodded emphatically. "It's our problem, and we have to solve it."

Now it was the Grangers' turn to wince - this must be something else that Hermione had often heard as a child.

"Still, wiping out an entire species…" Gabriel shook his head.

"Like the pox?" Hermione replied with a frown.

"That's a virus," Gabriel told her.

"A fitting comparison for the Dementors." Ron snorted. "You really won't understand until you meet one of them. Everything around them slowly decays and dies. And you feel depressed - like the worst person on Earth." He shook his head. "They're a plague."

For a moment, the room was silent. Then Ellen spoke up again: "So, who wants dessert?"

It was a transparent attempt to change the subject, but Ron and Hermione nodded and smiled.

He didn't really want to further discuss Dementor extermination at the table.

*****​

Forest of Dean, Gloucestershire, Britain, May 4th 2006

They appeared in the familiar clearing in the Forest of Dean instead of inside the laboratory. Ron wasn't really surprised. He took a deep breath and looked around. Night had fallen, but the stars and the moon were bright enough to make out most of their surroundings.

"Sorry," Hermione said. "I didn't feel like…" She shrugged, sighing.

"I understand," he said. "Gabriel and Ellen don't know what Dementors are like."

"I know that," she replied. "But what they said… is not entirely wrong." She rubbed her arms - it was a little cold here for her short-sleeved top.

"Not entirely correct, either," he told her. "They're a threat to everyone."

"Yes. Without question. And they have committed horrible atrocities." She sighed again. "But wiping out an entire species…"

"Like smallpox?"

"It's not quite the same, as Gabriel said."

"It's a magical smallpox that can move by itself. And spread out. And dresses in rags."

She pursed her lips as she corrected him, as he had known she would. "The rags are part of their bodies. They aren't really dressed."

He smiled at her. "Close enough, in my opinion. But, honestly, they're monsters, and the world will be better off without them."

"But they might be sapient. They might not be aware of what they are doing - what if they consider us like animals, dangerous animals, and they are behaving like human hunters trying to hunt some prey in a forest full of predators?" Hermione shook her head. "We can't assume that they perceive the world in the same manner as we do - or that they even perceive the same world."

He scoffed - that was a concept he had encountered before. In science fiction and fantasy books and movies, but still. She looked surprised as he shook his head. "If they are sapient, then they should realise that we're sapient as well. Just from observing our behaviour - they react to us, after all. And they've stuck to the deals they've made, and worked with the Ministry, haven't they? If they don't realise that we're sapient and still just see us as dangerous food, then we can assume they aren't sapient themselves. Or, alternatively, they have realised it and don't care."

"But even if the latter is true, there's still the possibility that they could change their ways," Hermione retorted.

"After hundreds of years?" Ron shook his head again.

"Humans considered war a perfectly fine method of pursuing their goals for millennia," she pointed out.

That was true, but… "We don't eat sapient creatures, though. In this world, we don't eat other humans. With very few exceptions," he said.

"That's probably because of the effects of regular consumption of human flesh and brains."

"And what about the effects of the regular consumption of human memories and souls?" He crossed his arms, then let them drop to his sides again. He didn't want to appear confrontational.

"We have no idea about that because we know so little about the Dementors."

"We know enough to know wiping them out is the correct decision," he told her. "If we lock them up, they'll slowly starve. That would be torture. As would be feeding them. And we can't let them be, or they'll go after humans - or someone will try to use them against their enemies. And using Fiendfyre is too dangerous..." And would have severe political consequences in and for Wizarding Britain. Scorching an entire island with dark magic? That wasn't cricket.

She didn't have an answer to that - he could see how her lips twisted into a deep frown.

He reached out and put his hands on her shoulders. "It's not an ideal solution, but the alternatives are worse. Both practically and ethically."

She sighed, then slowly nodded. Then she glared at him. "But we will not torture them with meaningless experiments."

Ron refrained from pouting. She was correct, of course - but he had been looking forward to trying out various weaponised toys and food on the Dementor in the cell.

*****​

Black Lake, Scotland, May 6th 2006

Cure Found For Cursed Nightmares! Dominican Dream Eaters Eat Dreams! Dominica Refuses to Sell the Creatures to Britain!

Ron looked at the Daily Prophet's headline, then at the illustration below it which didn't look even remotely similar to a Dream Eater. In fact, it looked like the ghost of a Voracious Mole. Then he looked at Hermione. "If anyone thinks Voracious Moles eat nightmares…"

"They don't eat humans. Luna told me so," Hemione said.

Ron winced. "Is that confirmed, or did she just draw conclusions from 'Voly'?"

"Her father confirmed it as well. It seems that Voracious Moles don't like how humans taste."

Ron didn't want to know how they found that out. Especially if that was an experience every mole had to have for itself. "We can only hope that none of the Prophet's readers decides to try to capture a Dream Eater for themselves."

"There'll be at least one such attempt, I think," Hermione replied. "Someone will want to capture one to sell it to the highest bidder." She nodded at the newspaper. "They already mentioned that Dream Eaters only eat so many nightmares per day. And that there's only one known in Britain." She pursed her lips. "Some fools will try to poach one. And the Dominicans won't be happy about it. And all for nothing - by the time anyone manages to return with a captured Dream Eater, Snappy will have gone through most victims anyway."

"Can they stop them?" If this led to Dream Eaters being hurt or killed, the Lunas would probably not forgive themselves. And if they managed to overfeed a Dream Eater… Well, if Snappy had gotten through the majority of the patients already, that shouldn't be a concern.

"I doubt it."

He had feared that.

"I should've expected this," Hermione said, frowning deeply. "Especially after seeing how desperate some of the victims are."

And how stupid, Ron thought but didn't say out loud. Instead, he said: "Well, if Snappy can keep his appetite up, then the whole village should be treated in two weeks."

"That's long enough for poachers to cause trouble," she told him. "If they use muggle aeroplanes, they can reach Santo Domingo in a few hours. Using magical transport would take them longer, of course."

He nodded. "I know." That had been a problem when they had gone to recruit Rosengarten, after all. "How much trouble could this cause?" he asked.

"Capturing or hunting a Dominican Dream Eater is a capital crime in Magical Santo Domingo - and most of the other countries where Dream Eaters are native," she explained. "Some tribes consider them guardians of those who go on vision quests. And those are sacred."

He winced again. That did sound like a serious diplomatic incident in the making.

"And if they curse or kill any locals who try to stop them…" She tilted her head as she trailed off.

"War?"

"I would hope not. The last war between Wizarding Britain and a magical country in the New World was in the 19th century, when Britain made her last attempt to reconquer Magical Jamaica. That was, fortunately, a limited war since neither side had the ability to move enough troops to launch an actual invasion. But now, with regular flights?"

Ron sighed. "Great. And how did wizarding Luna's father manage to get one?"

"He asked the Dream Eater to come with him," Hermione told him with a wry smile. "Or so I was told. But the fact that the Dominican authorities didn't try to stop him or have him arrested indicates that it's the truth. Although I don't know if that means that they consider Dream Eaters to be citizens of their country."

Kidnapping instead of poaching. Or murder. Even better. "I hope the Lovegoods work quickly and cure most of the most anxious patients," he said.

Hermione nodded. "So do I. I trust the Ministry to avoid doing anything stupid or rash - but the Dominicans? They might not be so even-tempered if foreigners try to plunder their land."

*****​

Wizarding Luna arrived shortly before lunch, stepping through the portal with a smile on her face, and waved at Ron and Hermione. "Hermione! Ron! I'll be right back with Luna." A moment later, she disapparated with the characteristic popping sound.

Ron dropped the piece of paper he had been filling with rejected wordings for the Fidelius Charm on the desk in front of him and looked at Hermione with a wince. "Do you think she hasn't read the Prophet yet?"

Hermione shook her head. "I can't imagine that. Xenophilius has a subscription. And she liked to denounce the Prophet's lies and misinformation at Hogwarts."

They weren't in school any more, but Ron had to agree - he couldn't see either Luna missing their country's main form of mass media. Luna still tracked the BBC, and her opinion of the company was on a par with wizarding Luna's of the Prophet. Or Hermione's. But… "She's too happy for that."

"Yes." Hermione nodded. "So, we'll have to…"

The Lunas appearing in front of the portal interrupted her. "Hello!" Luna waved at them. "We thought we'd eat lunch with you - we haven't done that in a while, have we?"

"Yes," wizarding Luna added, nodding several times. "And while I love Daddy's cooking, his desserts aren't as good as the ones Dumbledore's kitchen staff creates."

"Ah." Ron grinned. "I'll tell the staff to make enough for everyone."

"Already did," Luna told him, holding up her phone. "And we should be able to eat the first course in ten minutes!"

"You've got a direct line to the lab's kitchen?" Ron asked.

"Dumbledore arranged one so we would be able to order food more easily," Luna explained.

"Oh, yes!" her counterpart said. "Though I think it was mostly the fact that we used to call him to order that made him set that up."

Ron chuckled at the mental image of Dumbledore serving as a delivery service.

Hermione cleared her throat. "So… did you read the Prophet today?"

"Yes!" Wizarding Luna frowned. "And they should be ashamed of their poorly-researched article! Dream Eaters can't be bought like cattle!"

"They shouldn't be bought like cattle, but someone will still try it," Luna added.

"Yes," Hermione agreed. "I'm sorry that it came to this - I should've expected this development. Now some unscrupulous poachers might hunt the Dream Eaters."

"Oh, they'll try - but they'll fail," wizarding Luna said, smiling widely.

"Oh?" Hermione blinked. "You think the Dominicans can stop them?"

"Not alone - but our Ministry has offered them assistance to patrol their borders and the habitats of the Dream Eaters. Imagine: British wizards working to protect foreign magical creatures! They've come a long way from importing creatures for some silly tournament."

"And the Dominicans have accepted the offer?" Hermione asked

"Not yet," wizarding Luna told her. "That'll take some diplomacy. But I expect that the Dominicans won't risk the Dream Eaters for silly things like pride."

Ron wasn't sure if he agreed with that assessment.

"And," the witch went on, "if we're lucky, Wilkinson will be among the wizards sent to stop the poachers! Then he'll finally be doing something worthwhile for magical creatures instead of talking to Daddy about what he'd like to do but never can!"

Ron was sure there was more behind her hostility, but he wasn't about to ruin another meal by discussing such a difficult subject.

*****​

Black Lake, Scotland, May 10th 2006

"We bring good news!" wizarding Fred announced as he stepped through the portal. "Very good news!"

"You've completed the request," Hermione said in a flat voice. "Harry told us already."

By sending Hedwig, of course.

"Oh, that's true as well. But that's not the good news I'm talking about," wizarding Fred told them. His smug grin widened, Ron noticed.

"And what's the 'very good news' then?" Hermione asked, narrowing her eyes.

"Percy's being promoted to head a delegation to the ICW!" Wizarding Fred beamed at them. His brother nodded emphatically.

"And that's 'very good news'?" Hermione frowned. "It's good for Percy, I suppose, but…"

Ron rolled his eyes as he cut in: "The 'very good news' they are talking about is that now he'll be spending most of his time in Geneva, far away from them."

Both wizards pouted at him. "No one likes a spoiler, Ron!" wizarding Fred said.

Hermione sighed. "Of course you'd make such a stupid joke."

"You say that now! But you'd be saying something else if our joke hadn't been spoiled!" wizarding George claimed.

"You're right," she told him. "Something far less polite, I think."

"Everyone's a critic!"

"Everyone who knows you," Ron told them. "And with good reason."

"I feel pretty unwanted, Fred."

"Indeed, George."

"Complain to yourselves," Hermione said. "Now let's go look at your new invention." She turned towards the door to her lab.

Ron nodded. The sooner they could test it against the Dementor, the better.

"Don't you want to know what delegation Percy will be leading?" wizarding Fred asked.

"I don't doubt that I'll be informed soon enough," she replied without looking back.

Ron agreed - the twins, either set, were rarely able to keep a secret unless it was for a prank.

As expected, wizarding George spoke before Hermione reached the door. "He's heading the Ministry's proposal to form an international committee for the protection of magical creatures."

"The Lunas will be ecstatic!" his brother added.

"Or condemn it as a corrupt cover-up," wizarding George said.

Ron chuckled. Luna would certainly suspect such a thing, even if the proposal was genuine. In fact… He blinked. "Who exactly proposed this?"

"We don't know. Someone in the Ministry, I think," wizarding Fred told him.

"If it is a success, we'll have our pick of people claiming they were responsible," wizarding George said with a shrug.

"And if it doesn't work out, it'll be Percy's fault," wizarding Fred added.

Both grinned.

Hermione, though, was looking at Ron. And then she sighed. "You think this is Dumbledore's work?"

"I'm not an expert on wizarding politics, but if this was triggered by the potential problems with poachers in Santo Domingo, then someone managed to get a proposal approved by the Ministry remarkably quickly. Suspiciously quickly," he added.

"Oh!" Wizarding Fred blinked. "You think he bribed people?"

"No," Hermione said. "He wouldn't expose himself like that. If he's behind this, he'll have worked through middlemen."

"Like wizarding Luna or her father." Ron shook his head.

"Or Percy?" wizarding George suggested but shook his head a moment later. "No, Percy wouldn't take gold. He's much too stuck-up for that."

"I'm sure there are plenty of Ministry workers who would support a proposal if it came pre-funded by 'anonymous animal enthusiasts'," Hermione said, "Or whatever Luna might pick as a cover story."

"Or Dumbledore," Ron added.

"Yes. But now let's focus on our upcoming experiment." She turned to the twins. "Show me the dusted water."

*****​

This was pointless. It wouldn't work. Ron would probably miss the Dementor, anyway - it was hard to aim if you couldn't see your target because you were a useless muggle with delusions.

"It's true: clothes can add twenty pounds to your weight."

"Well, I think those clothes actually weigh that much."

"Really? I didn't know ugliness and silliness were so heavy!"

The bloody wizarding twins! Ron rolled his eyes. "Shut up for a moment, will you? I'm about to hit the Dementor, so pay attention."

"We are paying attention! That's why we noticed your clothes."

"We usually don't pay as much attention to a bloke's clothes, you know. Unless it's to make fun of them."

"Which we are doing, of course - so you can resist the Dementor's aura. It's hard and cruel, but someone's got to do it."

"Ha ha." Ron scoffed, ate a small chocolate bar and then opened the cell's door.

The cold hit him hard, but he was used to it by now. Cold didn't really faze him any more. The mental effects, though… it wasn't as if he could afford to lose any part of his mind…

Growling, he shook his head, then aimed the nozzle at the cage. "I'm using the solution now!" he announced, then flipped the switch.

Coloured liquid shot out of the nozzle, drenching the entire cage - he could make out the outline of a figure for a moment before it faded again as the liquid stopped flowing. Even wearing a hazmat suit, Ron didn't want to risk dry water and DMSO entering in his veins.

Before the puddle below the cage could spread, he had already stepped back and closed the door.

"No reaction so far," Hermione commented. "The Dementor is no more agitated than usual after a test."

"But it's fidgeting," Wizarding Fred said. "It probably senses that it's about to face the might of the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes."

"Our shop's name shall strike fear in their non-existent hearts as soon as the water reverts to its original form," his brother added. "Which should be any moment now… Wow!"

"Blimey!"

"Oh."

The cage shook for a moment, Ron noted. The Dementor hadn't been able to rock the metal bars like that before. It probably… He stared. The cell was now filled with torn rags and grey… parts. He could see them.

"The Dementor… blew up," Hermione said.

"I can see that," Ron replied. "I can see the parts left behind."

And the aura was gone. He was feeling neither cold nor depressed, he realised with a growing smile.

*****​

"Congratulations, Dr Granger."

"Thank you, Professor."

She caught herself smiling stupidly and forced herself to school her features. It wouldn't do to lose her composure now that she'd successfully defended her thesis.

She'd survived much worse, anyway. Pitched battles against murderous bigots. Sneaking into a Death Eater Manor. Breaking blood wards. Breaking into Gringotts.

A bunch of cranky old men attacking her thesis couldn't compare. Most of them hadn't gone too far, anyway - she was still famous, after all, and not everyone wanted to be known for bullying a kidnapping victim who had managed to finish her education in record time. But she knew at least one of the men had tried his worst because her thesis refuted his own work.

Well, she told herself, clenching her teeth, she was correct, and he was wrong. And she had proved it.

She had her degree now. And she would get her grant.

And then she could finally start working on getting home.

*****​

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 77: The Test Flight

Black Lake, Scotland, May 10th 2006

Ron kept staring at the remains of the Dementor. Bits and pieces - nothing bigger than a fist - littered the floor. A few were even stuck to the walls. One part slowly peeled off the transparent cell door and fell to the ground. And the cage looked like… well, as if a body had exploded inside it. Which it had.

But there was no blood. Nothing at all like blood, he realised. The cage and walls should've been coated in blood - if, that is, the Dementor had had any blood. There was some liquid spread around, and more on the ground, but that was probably the DMSO cocktail. Although… "Is it just me, or is this the driest blown-up body you've ever seen?" he asked the others through the intercom. If the Dementor's blood was still alive, it might be invisible. Hadn't he read a story about an alien monster which was actually a liquid possessing bodies? Or had that been a monster he made up for a D&D adventure?

"No, it's not just you," Hermione replied. "I don't see any blood-like liquid, either. Though since some of the parts stuck to the walls, there might be some residual liquid present - probably the water that was inside the Dementor."

"Or what's left of it," one of the twins added. "Hard to say if part of it was consumed in the explosion, seeing as there was so much on the ground already."

"You could probably watch the recordings we took, and use them to analyse the amount of water which escaped," Dumbledore cut in. "We should also be able to determine the exact time of death by finding the moment the parts become visible to muggles."

"That's a good idea. Let's look at the recordings!" Hermione said.

Well, Ron would look at the body parts a little longer. A lot longer, he corrected himself - they had to be sure the monster wouldn't resurrect itself by regenerating or something.

And, after all that time spent fighting the creature's aura, it felt good - really good - to see it blown to bits.

He stepped closer to the cell door and crouched down. The chunk of Dementor in front of the cell door looked like… It wasn't flesh or bone or anything like that. Just some… mass. A bit like clay, though it looked a little porous. Then again, that could've been the result of water appearing inside the thing and blowing it up. Perhaps an analysis under a microscope would tell.

Even so, it was clear that Dementors weren't animals. They were more like… constructs. Perhaps some sort of golem. Magically animated. Or… He shuddered. What if they were possessed by a spirit, which had just been set free? No. He reminded himself that Hermione had tested for that before. She had encountered possessed people and things before. Wizards knew about possession and its effects. Dementors weren't possessed… constructs.

Of course, if Dementors were basically animated matter - animated floating statues made out of some magical Play-Doh material - then they might not even be magical creatures. Just a collection of spells. Or spell-like effects.

He laughed. Here he was, a muggle who had read and played too many fantasy games, acting as if he was a wizard researching magic. It was absurd.

Still, he would ask Hermione and the others about it anyway. Perhaps it would give them ideas.

*****​

"Matter animated and controlled by a spell?" Hermione blinked. "That's actually… not implausible. It would explain a number of things about their physiology. And there are similar spells. The enchanted suits of armour at Hogwarts. Or the famous golem."

"Or Inferi," wizarding George said. "They would actually fit very well - only instead of going for souls, they go for meat."

"And brains," his brother added.

"However, neither Inferi nor golems act as independently as the Dementors. They rely on orders given to them," Hermione pointed out.

"Orders can be quite complicated," Ron replied.

"Not for essentially brainless bodies," Hermione told him.

"You can say 'constructs'." He grinned at her.

Frowning at him, she said: "I don't think the Dementors would have the autonomy to act as they do if they were mere magically created bodies animated by spells. That would require the processing ability of a portrait."

"But it would be theoretically possible?" Ron challenged.

"Theoretically. But it would also mean that someone had managed to create an almost indestructible animated body. If they could do that, why didn't they expand on it? Containers or armour with that same resistance to almost anything would've been very powerful - especially at the time the Dementors were first discovered."

"Well, Ekrizdis was said to have practised the worst of the Dark Arts on Azkaban, and he's supposed to have lost his mind as a result. Perhaps he created the Dementors, and then was killed by his own creations before he could expand on his discovery?" wizarding George suggested.

"He wouldn't have created so many of them, though," Hermione retorted. "Doing so would have taken a long time - time spent in close proximity to a steadily growing number of Dementors."

"Perhaps he controlled them and kept them at bay, not realising that the effects of their aura grew with every new Dementor until it was too late?" Wizarding Fred shrugged. "I wouldn't dismiss the possibility."

"And perhaps he intended them as a deterrent?" Dumbledore tilted his head. "Anyone killing him would set them loose - out of control, acting on his last orders."

"Then why would they have been stuck on Azkaban?" Hermione countered. "That's not much of a deterrent."

"He might have been working on, or planned to work on, a means to address that before he died or lost the will to research further," the old man replied.

"Or lost his mind," Ron added.

"Well, we would need to research further to discover the answer," Hermione said. "But for that, we'd need another Dementor, which I don't think is feasible. We can, however, proceed with our plan to exterminate them."

Ron nodded. That was their actual goal, after all.

*****​

Black Lake, Scotland, May 11th 2006

"We all know the layout of Azkaban," Ron said, pointing at the picture projected on the wall behind him. "That hasn't changed. And, according to our information" - he nodded at his counterpart, who was sitting in the first row - "they've repaired the pier. Further, they expedited the removal of the prison's remaining inmates after the incident that destroyed the pier."

Wizarding Ron snorted. "You mean the incident during which you destroyed the pier."

Ron ignored him. Moody had taught him better than to admit to anything to another cop - no matter the situation.

"We can neither confirm nor deny any involvement of ours in that incident," Dumbledore told him with a smile.

Of course the old spymaster would love being smug about it too much to ignore the opening.

"Yeah, sure," Ron's counterpart said.

Rion cleared his throat. "However, after the incident, the Ministry has increased security on the island."

"On the empty island. Suddenly, they have more guards available when, before, it was always impossible to increase the number of wizarding guards and remove the Dementors." Luna scoffed.

"It's not quite that easy," wizarding Ron defended the Ministry and himself. "We're missing those guards elsewhere. They're just Hit-Wizards, but anyone guarding Azkaban against 'dark wizard intrusions' is one less guard available to protect the Ministry, Hogsmeade or Godric's Hollow." He scowled. "We've been cancelling all vacations, and everyone's doing overtime for now - but we can't keep that up much longer." Shaking his head, he added: "I'm officially on a patrol around Hogsmeade and Hogwarts and the Forbidden Forest - looking for anything or anyone suspicious."

"You being here is technically following your orders," Hermione told him.

"Very technically. Harry's covering for me so no one tries to contact me," her friend replied with a wry grin. "He told the Department that I'm 'going dark' until I'm done and that anyone trying to bother me might endanger me."

Hermione laughed. "They bought it?"

Wizarding Ron shrugged in return. "Enough people survived the war to know how we did things then. They probably think I'm having flashbacks or something…" He trailed off with a grimace. "Uh, sorry."

Ron saw that Hermione had tensed up and wanted to smack his counterpart. On the head. And he wanted to go and hug Hermione.

He did neither. Instead, he cleared his throat again. "In any case, the added security - both on the island and on the ferry - means that the ferry can't be used to sneak on to Azkaban any more."

"That was to be expected. Few such vulnerabilities and weaknesses can be used more than once," Dumbledore added. "However, no place is completely impervious to infiltration. Some might come close, of course."

Ron smiled. "And Azkaban is among those places. Our best bet, actually, would be to wait until the Ministry reduces the number of guards on the island."

"We can't! The longer the Dementors aren't fed, the more dangerous they become!" wizarding Luna blurted out.

"Agreed." Ron nodded at her. "The longer we wait, the greater the danger that there's a fatal incident - or that some or even all of the Dementors manage to leave the island." There were dark wizards, after all, out in the world who might want such monsters for their own nefarious and probably self-destructive purposes. He smiled. "So we'll have to strike while there are still a significant number of guards on the island. Fortunately, we have a plan for that." Had had one ready for a while, actually.

Hermione stood, and he handed her the pointer before taking a step back. "We can't use the ferry. Transferring or duplicating the enchantment on to another vessel isn't feasible. Nor would another ship be a good choice, in any case, since we'll have to break through the island's wards. We would have to keep the ship almost perfectly still so that a Curse-Breaker could work on the protections."

"We've worked in worse conditions," wizarding Bill said. Fleur nodded in agreement.

"But not when dealing with the sorts of wards on that island," Hermione retorted. "So we've found a solution that will allow us to work on breaking through the wards without taking unnecessary risks."

Ron saw her grimace as she pushed a button, and another picture replaced the shot of Azkaban.

Dumbledore chuckled. "Gellert wasn't amused, but I think he actually likes the idea."

Sirius, of course, was whooping with delight. "Yes! I knew it!"

Hermione scowled, but she really should have expected that.

"A flying tank!" Sirius cheered.

"It's not a flying tank!" Hermione spat through clenched teeth. "It's an armoured flying transport based on a wheeled vehicle."

"A light tank."

"It's not a light tank. The Rotluchs is classified as an armoured personnel carrier. And it'll be heavily modified." Hermione wasn't about to give in, as expected.

"APCs don't have a turret with a nine-centimetre main gun," Sirius shot back, still grinning like a loon. "It's a light tank."

"We're only using this version because the Phoenix Gruppe didn't have a spare transport model available," Hermione told him. And, as Ron knew, because she didn't want to duplicate one of the transports since that would put it at risk of being dispelled. "And we'll probably remove the turret anyway."

Sirius gasped. "What? Certainly not! That would reduce the tank's capability! And with magic, there's no need to save space or weight, anyway! In fact, you should replace it with a Leopard's turret!"

Harry raised his hand. "Why exactly are we planning to enchant an armoured vehicle for this?"

"Because a flying tank is…"

"I wasn't asking you, Sirius," Harry cut off his godfather.

Hermione sighed. "Because, given the decaying effect of the Dementor's aura, it's safest to work from a heavily armoured cell. We don't plan to get too close in the first place, of course, but it's better to be safe than sorry - and this was the safest model available."

"Contrary to the widespread propaganda put about by our detractors, the Phoenix Gruppe doesn't actually have stores of tanks and other military weapons. We only produce to order - and, currently, there aren't any orders for main battle tanks," Dumbledore explained. "So we had to make do with a demonstration model, and this was the only one available."

"Fate smiles on us!" Sirius said.

"And removing the weapons and wheels would've been both an unnecessary effort and deprived the vehicle of its ability to blend in - to some degree - among muggles," Ron added. Not to mention that Mr Weasley had experience in enchanting cars, and a wheeled armoured vehicle was a car of some sort. Ron didn't know if the man had experience in enchanting a flying bunker.

And a flying tank was cool, of course. Not that he would tell Hermione that.

*****​

The Burrow, Ottery St Catchpole, Devon, Britain, Wizarding World, May 11th 2006

"How delightful! An eight-wheeled muggle car!" Mr Weasley had the same expression Dad had had when he had found that old Jaguar to restore. The 'Rotluchs' easily filled most of the extended shed in which they were standing, dwarfing any car, but that didn't seem to deter the wizard - quite the contrary.

"It's a tank, actually." Sirius butted in before anyone else had a chance to respond.

"It's not a tank. It's an armoured fighting vehicle." Hermione hadn't given up on correcting Sirius.

"Isn't a tank an armoured fighting vehicle?" Mr Weasley asked.

"Yes. But not every armoured fighting vehicle is a tank," Hermione told him.

"But this one is a light tank!" Sirius said. "Just look at the gun on it!"

"Oh, is that functional?"

"Of course!"

"We have to try it out, then!" Mr Weasley beamed. "I've shot shotguns before, and it was great fun!"

Ron cleared his throat. "Shotguns don't compare to tank guns," he said, ignoring the glare Hermione sent at him. "This is much more powerful - and dangerous. And loud."

"Oh! That sounds wonderful!"

"It's also a little hard on the landscape," Hermione told him with a rather forced smile. "Think Blasting Curses. Cast by experts."

"Oh! That would be a little hard on the area, yes. And our neighbours would wonder what was going on." Mr Weasley nodded. "We'll have to test it in the wilderness, then!"

"I concur," Dumbledore said, smiling as well. "It wouldn't do to take an untested vehicle into the field. Although I propose that we use my company's testing area for it."

"Good idea!" Mr Weasley's smile grew even wider. "Perhaps we can compare it to other vehicles? That would provide us with a good baseline."

Ron knew that expression as well. Dad wore it whenever he was about to get his way in a deal.

"I'll see what I can do," Dumbledore said, "though our selection is currently a little limited."

"Ah."

"I knew I should've bought a Scorpion!" Sirius said. "That would be a good tank to measure up to. Proven in combat, too!"

"The Rotluchs has seen action in Afghanistan," Dumbledore pointed out. "The Bundeswehr was quite satisfied with its performance."

"They'd better be satisfied," Ron remarked. "They certainly paid enough for it." Probably too much. At least, the vehicle did what it was supposed to, as far as he knew.

"Can we focus on what sorts of enchantments we need on it before we talk about going out on the shooting range?" Hermione asked, rolling her eyes.

"Certainly!" Mr Weasley replied. "I assume that you want a flying tank that can turn invisible, right?"

Sirius nodded emphatically.

Hermione's nod was barely a twitch of her head.

*****​

Mrs Weasley had, of course, insisted on everyone staying for dinner. Usually, Ron would've felt a little guilty for descending on anyone with half a dozen unexpected guests, but with magic allowing Mrs Weasley to duplicate her food, that wasn't an issue.

"And the tank - that's an armoured muggle car for the muggle military, Molly - has eight wheels! Eight! And a turret with a cannon! I wonder if I can enchant some bullets for it."

"Shells, actually. They're called shells," Sirius replied. "And that's a great idea! Can you enchant shells that release a strong acid that melts down enemy tanks?"

"Oh… that depends on what tanks are made of," Mr Wealsey said, nodding. "But it should be possible with a potion… I think. What do you think, Molly?" He beamed at her, then turned to Sirius. "She's a dab hand at potions, you know."

Mrs Weasley smiled, presumably at the compliment, but frowned when she replied: "I'm not familiar with any potion that would melt a car - a tank."

"And I don't think we need such shells, anyway," Hermione said. Her scowl was very pronounced. "We simply need a flying invisible vehicle with adequate protection."

"A flying tank!"

Ron rolled his eyes. Sirius was really overdoing it. Then again, that was typical for the man.

"Of course." Mr Wealsey nodded. "I'm merely thinking about additional options. Cars are sold with options, aren't they?"

"Yes," Sirius said. "I usually take all the options, too!"

"Even the ones no one should take," Ron added. "But this is more like a tuning job, not a sale."

"Tuning? Like a musical instrument?" Mr Weasley asked.

"I think they took the term from there," Ron replied. "But it's car tuning - improving the engine, lowering the centre of gravity, replacing the upholstery with leather…" He shrugged. "But Hermione's correct: We need the vehicle flying and invisible. We're not planning to shoot magical shells at anyone."

"But think of the Dementors being hit by shells containing water!" Sirius chuckled at his own suggestion. "We could blast them all over the place!"

"No, we won't blast them around for our entertainment," Hermione snapped. "We'll do this efficiently and without unnecessary cruelty. We're better than that."

"And we should also know better than to take risks around the Dementors," Ron added.

"There's no risk if we stay above them, out of their range, and shoot them," Sirius retorted.

"We can't know that;" Hermione told him. "We don't know the Dementors' full capabilities. Especially not when they are gathered in large numbers."

"You've had one to experiment on."

"Well, we used water against it, but that didn't do much until we found a way to have the water appear inside its body," Ron explained. "Shooting one with water didn't do anything permanent."

"And we won't fool around on the mission and risk some of them escaping," Hermione added, glaring at the man.

"You better not," Mrs Weasley cut in. "That would be irresponsible!"

Sirius pouted, but Ron didn't miss that Mr Weasley looked a little guilty as well.

Well, best to nip that in the bud. After his time spent helping to experiment on a Dementor, Ron knew perfectly well that you couldn't play around with them.

*****​

Unknown Highlands, Scotland, May 12th 2006

Ron stared at the table. Or what remained of it after the demonstration. "That's… impressive," he said. And scary.

"It is, isn't it?" Luna smiled at him. "Just as planned!" She beamed at the box in front of her, from which a few flickering lights could be seen even from where Ron was standing.

"And they're resistant to cold, so the Dementors' aura shouldn't be able to kill them," wizarding Luna added. With a frown, she added: "We weren't able to test that, though. Not before you destroyed your Dementor."

"I'm sorry about that," Hermione said. "We were too eager to test our idea against them."

"And we were surprised by the fact it worked," Ron told them.

Hermione pursed her lips. "The results were within the predicted range."

The Dementor had withstood everything else until then. Ron didn't think that anyone had been certain or even confident that it would work.

"It doesn't matter, anyway," Hermione went on. "In any case, did you manage to control their breeding?"

"We did," Luna replied.

Her counterpart pouted. "Under protest! Limiting the dearies feels wrong. They're so cute!"

Ron would've chosen a few other terms to describe the creatures. Ugly. Revolting. Dangerous. Monstrous.

"If they are caught breeding then the ICW will exterminate them," Hermione said. "It's better to have them die off naturally - of old age - before anyone realises what they are."

"Or have them all drown once they reach the sea," Ron added.

"Still… sex is an important part of life. Can you claim to have lived if you've never had sex?" wizarding Luna asked.

"Yes," Hermione told her with a frown.

Ron refrained from commenting that Luna's question sounded a little 'sex-ist'. "So, what do you call them?" he asked instead.

Wizarding Luna perked up at once. "I wanted to call them 'Lunar Firelice', but Luna said that that would be giving away that we created them. So… we decided to call them 'Firestone Lice'. You know, because they're a cross between Stone Lice and Fire Crabs."

A fitting name, in Ron's opinion. And scary, too.

"You have to be completely sure that they cannot breed outside captivity, though," Hermione stressed. "If they escape into the wild, they'll destroy the natural habitats of many native species. Especially in this world."

Ron nodded. That was a nightmare scenario.

"Oh, don't worry - they'll only breed if they smell the mating pheromones of Fire Crabs," wizarding Luna told them. She sighed and added: "We tried everything else to get them to breed but without success. The poor dears are an evolutionary dead end like this, always depending on us to breed. It's really unnatural."

"But it's a necessity to protect the environment and the countless species that would be endangered - or even more endangered - otherwise," Hermione told them.

"Oh, yes," Ron agreed. This wasn't the time to quote Jurassic Park.

"But they only eat stone and mortar," wizarding Luna retorted. "There are no species in this world that have the same ecological niche."

"If they appear and start eating buildings and bridges, people will try to exterminate them. And they'll use means that will kill many other animals," Ron told her.

The witch pouted. "That's unfair."

"You can't expect people to let an invasive species eat their homes and infrastructure;" Hermione pointed out.

"Or their mountains," Ron added. "Imagine if the Aborigines lost their sacred mountain to the Firestone Lice."

"Or the Muslims the Kaaba. Or Jerusalem's churches and temples and synagogues." Hermione shook her head. "The Firestone Lice are too dangerous to be allowed to breed in the wild."

Luna, fortunately, nodded in agreement. "Yes. We will keep them in a habitat where they can live without being persecuted just for something that wasn't their fault."

Ron suppressed a sigh of relief. One ecological transdimensional catastrophe averted.

*****​

Black Lake, Scotland, May 12th 2006

"So, now we just have to wait for Mr Weasley to finish enchanting our Rotluchs," Ron said as he sat down on their bed in his boxers.

"Yes. Which I hope won't take too long." Hermione sighed as she pulled off her sweater. "I would much prefer to do this before the school year ends."

He nodded. "On a Hogsmeade weekend."

"Ideally, yes. The Ministry already keeps a lot of guards in Hogsmeade, but the number spikes every time the students at Hogwarts are allowed to visit the village." She sighed. "It was the same during the war - but we knew not every Auror could be trusted."

"And that means you couldn't trust any Auror," he replied. One bad apple might not spoil the entire basket, but it could easily ruin the basket's reputation. Ron blinked. That metaphor had run away from him.

"Yes." Hermione slipped out of her jeans - which took a little effort, he noticed; they were a little too tight to be comfortable, but they looked great on her - and pointed her wand at herself. A moment later, her ponytail undid itself. And her bra flew into the bathroom, doubtless landing in the laundry basket.

He shook his head. "It's still amazing seeing magic like that."

"Oh?"

"Casual magic. In a way, it's even more impressive than a flying tank."

She frowned - probably at him calling the Rotluchs a tank. Then she smiled. "I used to do this all the time, but my habits changed during my time in this world. It took a while to switch back, so to speak."

He nodded. He could imagine that. "In any case, it's impressive." And he wasn't jealous about such minor spells. Not really.

She slipped into a nightshirt. A silk one, which looked very good on her, too. "A full-blown magical house is much more impressive. Even without a magical servant."

He narrowed his eyes and shook his head. "I don't think so. No computer? No telly? I'll take a modern house with some minor spells, thank you very much." He smiled at her.

To his surprise, she sighed. "Yes, I suppose so. It's really frustrating that modern electronics do not function inside wards."

"Which is weird," he said. "Shouldn't magic itself affect electronics?"

"It actually does. But the effect is barely noticeable even if you're looking for it," she explained as she joined him on the bed.

"And what makes wards so different?"

"I think it's the permanent effect of the protections. The way the spells are anchored to a place must affect electronics." She lay down on her stomach, then rolled on to her side, propping her head up with one hand. "I wish I had the time to research it."

"Perhaps someone will crack it while you work on exploring new universes." He chuckled. "Living without a telly is one thing, but without a computer? Or a cellphone? Even wizards and witches will want one, once they discover the joy of texting."

"I remain sceptical. If you can apparate, a cell phone loses much of its utility," Hermione retorted. "And you could use the Protean Charm to text - although only to a specific item, so it wouldn't allow you to text just anyone."

"You said relatively few wizards apparated," Ron retorted.

He caught her pursing her lips for a moment. "Yes. But my point stands. And it's more likely that someone will figure out a way to make magical cellphones than how to shield them against magic. Just like they adapted the wireless."

"Magical computers?" He blinked. "If they combined that with portraits…"

"It wouldn't be an Artificial Intelligence," she told him.

"You don't know that. And it would look like one - like the A.I. in Andromeda. Or the doctor in Voyager. " He grinned widely.

Hermione shook her head. But she was smiling as well.

*****​

Highlands, Scotland, Wizarding World, May 13th 2006

"...and this lever turns the tank invisible and silent when pulled down, and visible when pushed up. Although it won't cancel a Disillusionment Charm cast on the tank," Mr Weasley explained. "This lever here does the same for the flying charms."

The levers were also marked - in English - with 'Stealth Mode' and 'Flight Mode', Ron, standing behind the man and Hermione in the temporarily extended driver's compartment, noticed. Unfortunately, the brass plaques and brass levers Mr Weasley had used really stood out compared to the German plastic tags on the rest of the levers and buttons next to the steering wheel. Well, anyone who knew anything about these tanks - armoured fighting vehicles - would probably think it was a joke. The tank was about as stealthy as a truck. And about as heavy.

"So… let's take it out for a test drive!" Sirius said. If the man tried to sound any more eager, he'd probably be panting.

"We already did a test drive - and a test flight, remember, Sirius?" Mr Weasley said. "I wouldn't hand the tank over without testing my work!"

"Yes, but that was the test drive for the garage. We still need the test drive for the customer," Sirius replied. "That's only proper."

Harry sighed. "Really?"

"Yes, really!" Ginny cut in. "And I want to fly this thing! I didn't skip a tournament by faking a training injury not to get to fly a tank!"

Ron sighed. His little sister had some weird priorities. "Mum won't like it," he told her.

"So?" She grinned at him. "Who's gonna tell her?"

"No one. But do you really think she'll believe your injury story?" Ron snorted. "She knows you could have it magically healed. So she'll suspect it's a cover."

"Oh." Apparently, Ginny hadn't considered that.

"Magical healing should be reserved for emergencies and serious diseases and injuries," Hermione said. "Not for healing a strained muscle."

"You've seen the news?" Ginny smiled.

"No," Hermione told her. "I merely guessed what would be the most believable injury that could be quickly healed without requiring extensive treatment."

Ron suppressed a chuckle at his sister's pout. She was a little too vain.

And stubborn. "Anyway," Ginny said, "we do need to test the tank if only to become familiar with it. We can't afford to make any mistakes when we attack Azkaban, now can we?"

That was a good argument. Not that Ron wanted to let Ginny near the Dementors at all, of course. But he knew that trying to tell her to stay behind would only start an argument they couldn't afford right now. And, as much as he hated it, they didn't exactly have a lot of trusted people they could take with them. Not with most of Hermione's wizarding friends having to stay in Wizarding Britain to be seen by the Ministry. But damn, Ginny better keep that tank high up in the air where she couldn't feel the Dementors' aura!

"Which is why this isn't actually a test flight, but a training flight. Or drive," Hermione told them.

"I would say it's a training flight," Dumbledore said. "Since, you know, we'll actually be flying."

"Semantics!" Sirius scoffed. "Let's take this baby up!"

"Alright. Let me demonstrate how to operate it." Mr Weasley didn't relinquish the seat. Instead, he started the engine. "It works like a normal muggle vehicle on the ground - I didn't change that, though I enchanted the engine so it runs more quietly and doesn't actually need fuel."

"That will save a lot of money," Sirius said. "Not that we couldn't afford it, mind you."

"But it also means that the Rotluchs has an effectively unlimited range," Hermione pointed out.

"We can use it to fly anywhere!" Sirius added. "No more waiting at airports for us!"

"Provided you don't mind a top speed of seventy miles per hour," Hermione said.

"Bah!" Sirius scoffed again. "Just consider it a cruise!" He gestured at the back of the vehicle. "We can certainly travel in style! This tank is bigger inside than Grimmauld Place!"

"Actually, it's smaller," Hermione corrected him. "It has about as much space as the Burrow."

Ron suppressed a sigh and addressed Mr Weasley. "So… how do you steer it in flight?"

"Oh, I enchanted the steering wheel. In flight mode - and only in flight mode - you can pull it back to fly up and push it forward to descend. Like an aeroplane!" The wizard demonstrated it.

Ron stared. The steering column bent. As if it were made of rubber. Well, that would take a little time to get used to.

"Fascinating," Dumbledore commented. "And a little disquieting. Steel shouldn't bend like rubber."

Then they started rolling. "You can fly straight away, but it's smoother if you have a rolling start - like an aeroplane," Mr Weasley said. Then he pulled the invisibility and flight mode levers.

The engine noise - which had not been as loud as Ron had expected - vanished and they were flying - he could see that through the open hatch in the back. "We'll need seatbelts," he said as he had to steady himself when Mr Weasley demonstrated banking.

"There are seatbelts," Hermione pointed out - she had already buckled her own.

"I meant on all the furniture in the cabins," Ron explained.

"Oh. Yes." She winced. "And Sticking Charms, I think."

"The furniture is enchanted against breaking," Mr Weasley said. "And stuck already."

"But we would still be thrown around if there's a storm, wouldn't we?"

"Oh. I didn't think of that."

"Don't worry about it," Hermione told him. "We'll add seatbelts."

"Gellert would insist on them, yes."

"But I promised a flying tank, and that means it's not ready to fly."

"It is ready to fly," she assured him. "You did great work."

"Yes," Sirius chimed in. "Exactly as I dreamed!"

That lifted the wizard's spirits, and he continued explaining how everything worked while they flew around. In their tank.

Ron wondered if it would be abusing the man's enthusiasm if he asked him to enchant the Ford Capri Ron had inherited from his uncle.

"Now we need to test the gun!" Sirius said - for the third time since they had landed five minutes ago. "No tank is deemed ready until the gun works!"

"We're not planning to use the gun," Hermione retorted, also for the third time.

"But we might need it," Sirius told her.

"It should work - we tested it, remember?" Mr Weasley said. "On the island."

"Island?" Ron asked.

"A hidden island near the Isle of Man," the wizard told him. "Perfect to test, ah, dangerous devices."

"Yes, we did - but as I said already: We need to officially test it now as well!" Sirius smiled widely.

"You just want to shoot the gun," Harry told his godfather.

"Of course! How else could I get the practice? You never know when you'll suddenly need a tank cannon."

"I doubt we'll need a cannon on Azkaban - it won't really hurt Dementors," Hermione said. "On the contrary, it might blast them into the sea, keeping them away from our attack."

"And what if we need to blow up a building or wall? From a safe distance?" Sirius shook his head. "Always plan for the worst, I always say."

"You've never said that as far as I can recall," Harry told him.

"Really? I should have. Time to start now, then!"

Ron chuckled at their antics. "Well, I don't think it'll hurt to test the gun - and we really should know what it does and how it works."

"It destroys things," Hermione replied. "We've got spells for that."

"But you might need to get too close to the Dementors for those," Ron pointed out. "And what if there's an enemy immune to most spells?"

"There aren't any dragons left in England - with the exception of the dragons chained underground in Gringotts," Hermione told him. "And the dragon reserves in Wales and the Hebrides are too far away to be a problem."

Sirius chuckled. "Well, that only means there's room for them, so it might attract them. Who wouldn't rather live in Britain than in France, dragon or not?"

"I think we should test fire the gun," Ron repeated himself. He ignored Hermione's scowl. "If only to know how loud it is and what the recoil will do to the tank when it is in the air."

"You just want to fire a tank cannon," Hermione accused him.

"Who wouldn't?" Sirius asked. "Except you, of course."

Ron glanced around. Pretty much everyone looked eager for a test.

Hermione must have noticed it as well since she sighed. "Let's get this over with, then."

"Yes!" Sirius cheered.

"Not here, though," she told them. "We're not going to fire a tank cannon in the Highlands."

"I would suggest the Phoenix Gruppe's artillery testing area," Dumbledore said, "but if there's a closer area where we can test the cannon without having to shuffle schedules and take pains to ensure secrecy, then that would be preferable. A flying vehicle does tend to attract attention, after all."

*****​

South of the Isle of Man, Britain, Wizarding World, May 13th 2006

"Fire!"

A moment later, the whole vehicle rocked.

"Yes! Direct hit!"

"I tried to have the spells compensate for the recoil, but that affected the charms that control the tank's flight," Mr Weasley explained. "So… this is the best I can do, I'm afraid - my apologies."

"No, no, it's good," Sirius said. "A tank gun needs to be felt as much as it should be heard."

"Well, I also dampened the sound of the cannon - should I remove those charms?"

"No!" Hermione blurted out. "We don't need to be deafened every time it fires."

"We can wear ear protection for that," Sirius retorted.

"How many rounds are left?" Harry asked.

"As many as we want - Arthur can easily duplicate them!" Sirius replied.

"Good!"

"My turn next!"

Hermione sighed and sat down next to Ron. "I should've expected this. We'll be here for a long time."

"Better cast a Repair Charm on the barrel," he told her.

She chuckled. "I just hope we won't actually need the cannon. Sirius would be insufferable for weeks."

"We shouldn't need it." Ron grinned. "But it's fun to shoot the big gun. At least like this, and not in a battle. It doesn't hurt anyone."

She pressed her lips together.

"And," he continued, "it's a good way to pass the time and keep people occupied - and their minds off the coming mission."

"True. Though I wish they would've picked something a little quieter as a distraction." She smiled ruefully.

He made a vaguely agreeing sound. He cold hardly agree with Hermione too openly when he was looking forward to his own turn at the gun.

*****​

"Come on, Hermione! It's fun!" Ron waved at her.

"I'm reading a book!" she snapped.

"You can read your book any time, but you can't fly whenever you want!" he replied as he flew down and stopped, hovering in front of her. "Here, you can fly!"

"I don't want to fly," she said through clenched teeth. She was perfectly fine here, with her book, watching the pitch as a bunch of maniacs risked life and limb flitting around on brooms older than the school brooms. Which she had been glad to leave behind a year ago, along with the flying lessons.

"Why not? It's fun! Everyone's having fun!" Ron gestured at the others - all the Weasley children and, of course, Harry. Who was currently trying to get himself killed by diving straight into the ground!

She gasped, jumping up and sending her book flying. "Harry!"

"Oh, great Wronski Feint!" Ron cheered as their friend narrowly avoided the ground and pulled up again. He turned back to smile at her. "Come on! Let's give it a try! You can use my broom!"

She gaped at him. What was wrong with him?

"Are you a witch or not? Come on!"

Oh, he did not just go there!

*****​

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 78: The Raid

North Sea, Wizarding World, May 14th 2006

"Fly slowly and carefully! We don't want to upset the dears! It's their first time flying!" Luna's voice rang through the tank. Which, if you were inside its passenger compartment, looked more like a small luxury yacht, although without portholes.

Ron, standing in the open hatch at the top, behind the turret, shook his head. He doubted that the Firestone Lice had even noticed that they were flying. Unlike aeroplanes, they weren't travelling at an altitude at which a pressurised cabin would be required - they were barely above the waves, actually, as he could tell by the light of the full moon.

He keyed the microphone of his headset. "Watch the ground."

"If I fly any higher, the radar will pick us up," Ginny replied.

"If you fly any lower, we'll turn into a submarine," Ron retorted.

"Then I'm flying at the perfect altitude!" Ginny's smug tone wasn't hidden in the least by the intercom.

But, as Ron knew from experience, arguing would be pointless. And would distract his little sister from flying their tank over the North Sea without crashing. And, magic spells on the tank or not, that would be bad. He didn't think they would sink - not unless Ginny lost it completely - but they'd get soaked, and water would get everywhere, Ron might get thrown into the sea - it would take time to recover from that, time they didn't really have to spare. They had an alibi for the day - family visits on the muggle side was a good cover for a Sunday - but for Monday? Fleur and wizarding Bill had to be back at work then. That meant they needed to break through Azkaban's wards tonight.

So he held his tongue and let Ginny have this win. And enjoyed the fresh air on his face as they flew towards Azkaban.

Movement below him drew his attention. Ah. Hermione climbed up on the bench to join him in the hatch. There was barely enough room here for two - it was meant for a single soldier, but with all the gear and body armour soldiers tended to carry these days, Phoenix Gruppe had been generous, so the two of them fit. Barely.

He didn't mind being so close to her, of course, and wrapped his arms around her. And moved his head out of the way of her mane, which was blown back by the wind.

"I'm not going to say 'I'm flying'," she said.

"I don't feel like the King of the World, either," Ron replied with a chuckle.

She laughed. "I'm not sure Harry or Ron would've gotten the reference."

"Oh?" It was one of the most famous movies - and scenes - in the world. Even if you hadn't seen the movie, you had probably seen that scene.

Hermione sighed - he felt her chest heave - and she moved her wand in the shape of a privacy spell. "I hadn't realised just how… isolated… Wizarding Britain is. I mean, I was in school most of the time since I was told I was a witch, but that was because it was a boarding school, so it felt natural. And then I was transported to your world. But now that I've been back for a while…" She sighed again. "My friends here don't know much about the muggle world. Not even Luna, who's interested in your world, knows much."

"Ah." He didn't know what to say.

"They know enough to fit in. Harry was raised as a muggle, of course, but… They aren't part of it. Not really. They aren't familiar with popular culture. Or sports. Well, some do follow football, but overall, they don't know what the muggles watch and talk about. They know what the telly is, what the cinema is, and they have watched some shows and movies, but… it's spotty. It's like they visit a few times a year, no more."

"Ah." He nodded and resisted the temptation to rest his chin on her shoulder. "And you want more than that."

"Yes. I want to be able to talk to my parents about what books they've read, what's in the news, what's on the radio…"

"Mostly books, I guess."

She laughed at that. "And, of course, I need to keep up with physics," she went on, more seriously.

He shrugged. "Shouldn't be too hard."

"It shouldn't be. It won't be. But I don't want to miss out on wizarding news, either."

She didn't want to feel isolated from her friends, in other words. Or, to be more precise, she didn't want them to think that she was isolated from them. "Following two worlds - three if you consider the muggle world here…"

"Yes."

That wouldn't be easy at all. Especially given her work. But he didn't think it would be impossible.

*****​

Northeast of Azkaban, North Sea, Wizarding World, May 14th 2006

"You know, this is more than a little disturbing," Ginny said as she sat down on the couch in the tank's lounge - or living room; there had been a discussion between the Lunas and Hermione which term was more correct.

"Hm?" Ron asked, lowering the magazine he had been reading. Or pretending to read - they were all waiting for wizarding Bill and Fleur to break through Azkaban's protections.

"I know there's an island right ahead of us - we're parked practically on top of it. But there's nothing there. And I can't help feeling that I should avoid the area anyway," she went on.

That was why she had left the driver's compartment. "Must have gotten too close to the Muggle-Repelling Charms," he said. "Not that you could've helped yourself - we needed to get that close for the others to work on the wards."

Ginny sighed. "You sound like a wizard."

Ron chuckled at that. "I'm no wizard." He was a mere muggle. "But I pay attention when Hermione explains something."

Ginny snorted. "You probably take notes like you used to for your games."

"I take notes because our lives might depend on it," he corrected her.

"Yes. We might get killed by things we can't see or hear." She rolled her eyes.

"You didn't have to come," he told her. "But you need to take this seriously." They should've had her visit the captured Dementor before they destroyed it. She wouldn't be so… flippant if she had met one. But she was a good driver, and they didn't exactly have that many trusted people available to come with them. Most of Hermione's friends needed to be seen in Wizarding Britain, and Dumbledore had declined to come with them - Gellert must have put his foot down. That didn't leave many alternatives.

"It's not that," she retorted. She was probably lying, at least a little. "But you're so… cool with all of this. You're not a wizard, yet you act like one."

He snorted in return. "I'm not a wizard, and I don't act like them. I'm just doing what I can to help." Which wasn't very much right now. Nor would it be much once the mission really started.

"But doesn't this disturb you?"

Of course the Dementors disturbed him. But that wasn't what she meant. He shrugged. "I do what I can."

She sighed. "Don't drag Harry into this," she said sotto voce.

"Into this?" He raised his eyebrows. Harry was with them, after all. Currently in the kitchen, cooking a midnight snack.

"I mean into the whole portal stuff. I don't want a boyfriend who spends most of his time in another world. Not now that he's finally got time for me."

Ron bit down on his first retort - Ginny was the one who had been travelling around the world playing tournaments while Harry and Ron had stayed in London. Most of the time. "You really think he wants to be your bodyguard forever?"

Her face muscles twitched. "He's not just my bodyguard!"

"And what job can he do while travelling with you? Manager? Coach?"

She was clenching her teeth now. "I won't be playing tennis forever."

"Just for the next few years or so."

"And I'd like to spend them with him. Not worrying whether or not he's going to be turned into a frog and eaten by a dinosaur."

He snorted at that, and she glared at him. "Sorry. But I think you need to talk about that with Harry, not with me."

"I will! But I don't want you to drag him into this."

He shrugged. That was Harry's decision, not his. Or hers.

She scoffed again and got up, heading towards the guest room she and Harry had taken.

He returned to reading his magazine. Or pretending to.

*****​

"How's it going?" Ron asked as soon as he saw Hermione enter the lounge.

"They're making progress. Roughly on schedule," she said, sitting down next to him and grabbing a magazine for herself - and then dropping it.

Ron suppressed a chuckle; he was sure that she hadn't even checked what she was grabbing. "Mr Weasley left a rather eclectic selection for us."

"So I noticed. Gardening! Who wants to read a gardening magazine?"

"The Lunas took a selection of them with them into their room," Ron told her.

"I'm not sure if I should be worried about that," she replied, grabbing an issue of Newsweek.

"So we'll be through the wards before sunrise?" he asked.

"An hour or two past it, I think," she replied.

"Sounds a bit fast for the most secure prison of Wizarding Britain," he told her. "One night?" Those wards were supposed to be old.

"Technically, one night. But they'd studied the wards before - and they also studied the ferry's spells. And they're amongst the best Curse-Breakers," she explained. "But mostly it's the lack of patrols. We wouldn't be able to do this if the guards were patrolling along the wardline on brooms, looking for disillusioned intruders."

"Ah." That made sense. He nodded.

"It's still impressive."

"Yes," she agreed. "But if we had to, we could have done this in shifts. It would take two or three nights to get through the wards. We could've set up an alibi, too. We were just lucky that half the work was already done. But as I said before - the main reason we can do this so quickly is that the guards have stopped patrolling." She looked serious. "And that only happened because, with the prisoners gone, the Dementors are no longer hiding their true numbers, and most of the guards can't handle being close to so many Dementors."

"We're out of their aura's range, though."

"Yes. But we're outside the wards and we approached the wardline very carefully. If you're inside the protections and flying a patrol, you can't take that much time - you'd spend the whole night just flying once around the island. And if you fly too close, you risk bumping into the spells keeping the prisoners in - most wards on buildings only keep trespassers out." She frowned.

"Still… I would've expected more from such old protections," he said.

"The wards are very powerful - but Curse-Breaking has advanced significantly in the last four hundred years. And the older wards aren't as complex as they could be."

Like a massive bunker door with a simple lock. And no guards. "Are you going to help them?" he asked.

"I'm not a Curse-Breaker. We broke into old manors during the war, but we took our time or got help. Or cheated."

"Cheated?"

"Got someone to invite us or stole a key to get inside - or used the Floo Network."

"Ah. Out of the box thinking. Like using the ferry." He grinned.

"Exactly. But that's the only cheat that would work on Azkaban." She sighed. "So I'm pretty useless right now."

Like Ron himself. But he didn't say that. Instead, he said: "All we can do is wait."

"And read gardening magazines," she added.

"Only if you pry the others from Luna's fingers," he said.

"The ones they've left in the lounge are probably not interesting, anyway," Hermione said.

Ron resumed reading his own magazine - he should've brought a book, actually - as Hermione rooted around for a magazine she hadn't already read.

*****​

Northeast of Azkaban, North Sea, Wizarding World, May 15th 2006

When Ron woke up, it was already far past sunrise, as a quick glance at the alarm clock next to his - their bed - showed. Seven in the morning. And he was wearing his clothes, except for his boots. Had he overslept? He had only planned to have a short nap. Had they let him…? No, Hermione was stirring as well, next to him. "I think wizarding Bill and Fleur took a little more time than expected." If they were finished, of course.

"Yes," Hermione agreed, pointing her wand at her head and turning her wild bushy mane into, well, a not quite so wild but still bushy ponytail. A few more spells followed while he got off the bed, slipped his boots on and grabbed his shoulder holster. Then she pointed the wand at him. "Want me to clean you up as well?"

He tensed but nodded. It couldn't hurt, could it? A moment later, he felt his hair being combed and then settle down, then a tingling sensation on his skin. And, suddenly, he had a very sweet fruity taste in his mouth. "I guess wizards don't like mint toothpaste, hm?" he joked.

"I usually brush my teeth - this spell is adequate if you're in a hurry, but it's not as thorough," she not-quite-answered his question.

They left the bedroom they had taken for this trip. Wizarding Bill and Fleur were in the lounge, looking like they hadn't slept in a week.

"We've underestimated the wards' difficulty," the wizard said, unprompted. "We're very close to breaking through, but…"

"We started to make mistakes," Fleur added. "We'll need to rest - but we have to go to work first." She filled a large cup with black coffee.

"And you can't take Pepper-Up Potions since you still have to finish tonight," Hermione said, wincing.

"Yes. Sorry," wizarding Bill apologised with a sigh. "The number of spells layered on top of the original wards and then left without maintenance was much higher than we expected. It looks like the ferry's spells compensated for more than anticipated."

"Shoddy craftsmanship." Fleur sneered. "If the new spells had been properly integrated with the original protections we would've been able to deal with them all at once."

"Perhaps that was the idea?" Ron suggested.

"No," his brother's counterpart replied. "The spells are too haphazardly aligned - and vary too much in age and power. If they had actually wanted to use that as a defence, they would've done it differently."

"Nevertheless, it has proven to be effective," Hermione said. "We'll keep the vehicle stationary so you can return by Apparition this evening."

That would make their planned alibi a little more difficult, but they had had contingency plans for just such an occurrence.

But it also meant they would have to sit around doing nothing for half a day. Or longer.

Great.

*****​

"I can't help feeling angry at the Aurors," Harry said.

Ron frowned as he looked at his friend. "Why?" Both of them were sitting on top of the tank, legs dangling over the side, and looking at the sea.

Harry gestured ahead, where, although still invisible to them, the island lay. "They should have patrols out. Without patrols, anyone - like us - could hide here, invisible…"

"Disillusioned," Ron corrected him.

Harry glared at him. "...invisible and work on the wards."

"The guards are mostly Hit-Wizards," Ron told him. "Not Aurors. Soldiers, not cops."

"Mostly. But there are also some Aurors, aren't there?" Harry scoffed.

"Probably." They didn't have the exact schedule and guard rotation. Partially to avoid endangering their contacts at the Ministry, but also partially because there wasn't, so far, a set schedule for the recently abandoned prison. "But the lack of patrols helps us. If there were patrols, we would have had to steal or copy a submarine." And dive low enough to avoid the range of their detection spells.

"That's true. And I'm not complaining, mind you."

"You totally are," Ron told him.

That earned him another glare. And an eye roll. "I'm criticising fellow law enforcement officers' negligence in a purely academic and professional capacity."

Ron couldn't resist. "Neither you nor I are law enforcement officers any more. We're private security." Well, not yet officially, and what they were currently doing was more like mercenary work - or even criminal work, depending on your view on interdimensional and wizarding law.

Harry didn't take the bait, though. Instead of scoffing or glaring, his friend sighed. "Thanks for reminding me."

Oh, damn. First Ginny, now Harry? Ron didn't want to have this talk. Not now. Not ever, if he could help it. But Harry was Ron's best friend. "What's wrong?" Ron asked, even though he already suspected the answer.

"I'm Ginny's bodyguard."

Yes, as he had suspected. "That's wrong? You can spend much more time together now." He looked over his shoulder, checking if anyone could overhear them. Like Ginny. But his sister should be sleeping now, inside the extended compartment.

"I know. And that's not wrong. But…" Harry trailed off and sighed. "I don't think it's going to be enough. We've been doing this - the bodyguarding thing - for a while now. While you and the others do…" He trailed off again and made an awkward gesture with his hand towards Azkaban.

"You're with us, too. Both of you," Ron pointed out.

"Now. We were away for how long?" Harry shook his head. "And we're mostly along for the ride."

"Ginny's the driver. Or pilot."

"Anyone could've done that," Harry replied.

Now that was starting to sound rather familiar. "But she did it."

"Well, I haven't done anything," Harry said. "And I can't even see, much less harm, the Dementors."

"We - you and me - aren't here for the Dementors. We're here to deal with surprises." Ron tilted his head. "Insurance, of a sort."

"And what can we do against wizards?" Harry asked. "Or what can we do that wizards can't?"

"We can shoot things, we can think on our feet and we can think outside the box." Ron forced himself to grin. "Sometimes, even the archmage needs a fighter."

"Didn't you tell me all about fighters being useless?" Harry retorted.

"In a game. This isn't a game. This is different."

His friend didn't seem to believe him. "So if things go well, we're not needed, and if things go badly, we hope that we can do something to help?"

"Exactly!" That was the best anyone could hope for, anyway - wizard or muggle. "We don't have very many wizards here, anyway. And I bet wizarding Bill and Fleur won't be up to much after finally cracking the wards later tonight." Which left them with Hermione and wizarding Luna.

"Then we should get more wizards," Harry said.

"They can't just join us - that would look suspicious," Ron told him. They were already risking their alibi by having wizarding Bill and Fleur work two nights in a row, but there was no way around that.

Harry sighed again. "That won't always be the case."

"What do you want to do?" Ron asked after a moment. "You don't want to be just Ginny's bodyguard. But what do you actually want to do?"

"I want to…" Harry pressed his lips together. "I want to make a difference. I want to pull my weight. I don't want to be…"

"...Ginny's boy toy and Sirius's heir?"

That earned him a glare, which meant Ron was right. He chuckled. "Well, none of us want that. But how much are you willing to sacrifice?"

"Sacrifice?"

"This whole thing." Ron gestured at the tank, then at the sea. "Stuff like this. This is like being deployed as a soldier. Hard to have a relationship, or a family, like that." Unless your partner and family were working with you.

Harry pressed his lips together. "Ginny likes playing tennis." That was a slight understatement. "But she joined us, didn't she? To help Hermione."

"Yes. But that's when our entire family was threatened. Now?" Ron snorted. "She wants that Masters title. And she wants to be number one. She won't play tennis forever, but she won't sacrifice her chance at the top to drive a flying tank in another world."

Harry sighed once more.

Ron didn't have to ask whether Harry was willing to sacrifice his relationship with Ginny for his own dreams - it was clear that his friend was already pondering that question.

*****​

"For a stakeout, this is luxury," Ron commented during dinner. An excellent dinner, cooked by Mrs Weasley and delivered by wizarding Bill and Fleur.

"Technically, we're on a heist," Hermione corrected him.

"I see it more as a raid, actually," he told her. "Breaking and entering is justified by our goal of ending a threat to all of Britain."

"I don't think the Ministry would agree," she replied.

"They wouldn't," wizarding Luna said. "It's only legal if they do it to hunt down perfectly peaceful and harmless creatures who took refuge in an empty wizarding home."

That sounded more like an infestation of dangerous creatures being dealt with, but Ron knew better than to say that.

"Nothing is safe under an oppressive government," Luna added. "At least there are a number of international laws that even corrupt governments are forced to respect in the wizarding world. Unlike in our own world."

Ron also knew better than to contest that. "So, you'll take a nap before working on the wards?" he asked Fleur instead.

"Oui. Yes," the witch replied.

"We could do it now, though," wizarding Bill suggested.

"No," Hermione said. "That would be too dangerous."

Ron saw how the wizard set his jaw in response. That had been the wrong thing to say. "It wouldn't be too dangerous - we know these wards, inside and out. All we have to do is deal with a few spells."

"Oui," Fleur added.

"Regardless of whether or not you could do it, there's no pressing need for us to rush this," Hermione told them.

"It would make it easier to establish our alibi," Fleur retorted.

"But it would also be more dangerous," Ron cut in. "And we planned your alibi with this in mind." They hadn't planned for their Curse-Breakers getting themselves killed out of misguided pride.

"Still, the sooner we're done, the better," the wizard insisted.

"Not if it means taking unnecessary risks," Hermione objected. "Take a nap. Rest."

"Yes," Harry chimed in. "If you're tired, you'll make mistakes. And you are tired." Both Fleur and wizarding Bill glared at him, but he wasn't fazed. "Moody - our Moody - taught us that. Don't be foolish," he added with a glare.

Hermione nodded. As did Ron. Sirius made a noise of agreement.

After a moment, wizarding Bill sighed. "Alright. But we could've done it now - if we had to."

Ron wasn't the only one to roll his eyes at that bit of bravado.

*****​

Northeast of Azkaban, North Sea, Wizarding World, May 15th 2006

It was already dawn when the two Curse-Breakers finally finished. They looked quite exhausted, but both of them were smiling widely. "We've done it - broken through the wards of Azkaban," wizarding Bill said.

"Without breaking the protections that keep the Dementors contained," Fleur added. Her hair was still perfect - not a single one out of place - and her robes looked fresh and crisp. But she sounded and looked tired, and she was moving slowly and as if she were slightly tipsy.

"You'll need Pepper-Up Potions," Hermione said.

"We know," wizarding Bill agreed. "But we won't be doing any Curse-Breaking today, so it's OK."

"Just paperwork." Fleur smiled. "Though that's dangerous as well - it's hard not to fall asleep doing paperwork even on a normal day."

"A Curse-Breaker lives for danger." Wizarding Bill flashed them a cocky smile, but it came out slightly crooked when he yawned.

"Let me Side-Along-Apparate you home," Hermione said. She didn't wait for an answer and grabbed both of them by the hand. A moment later, all three disapparated.

"They were really exhausted," wizarding Luna commented. "Hermione wouldn't have been able to surprise them like that otherwise."

Which meant the two Curse-Breakers had been in more danger than they had thought, working on such powerful protections. If they had made a mistake...

Hermione reappeared. "Fleur doesn't like surprises," she said, wincing a little. "I'll check their work."

Of course, she had noticed their state as well. Ron was relieved - a mistake could've been fatal.

He followed Hermione to the top of the tank, where she cast several spells, then spent a few minutes staring at apparently nothing and mumbling under her breath. Then she nodded with a satisfied air. "I can't spot any mistakes. We'll still test it first, however, with a broom, I think."

Before they risked everyone else by flying the tank over the wardline. Ron nodded. Then he grabbed her wrist when she took out a shrunken broom. "I'll do it. You can levitate me if something goes wrong. And you can see disillusioned people. I can't."

She opened her mouth to protest, but he raised his eyebrows at her. He was correct, wasn't he?

She didn't propose something silly like a rope for him to drag her back with and instead nodded. Very reluctantly. Then she handed him her broom after unshrinking it.

He leaned over and kissed her, then straddled the broom, let her disillusion him and flew towards the island he still couldn't see.

Despite his confident smile, he held his breath until he suddenly saw Azkaban appear in front of him.

They had done it. They had broken into Azkaban.

Well, Ron was flying in Azkaban airspace. Far above the actual island, safely out of reach of the Dementors. But he was inside the wards. He turned the broom around and flew back towards the tank. Carefully and slowly - he couldn't see the tank, after all, and he didn't want to ram into it. Or fly past it before Hermione could guide him.

"Ron! Over here!"

Ah, there she was - he steered the broom towards her voice.

"Five more yards!"

He flew a little more, then stopped.

"One more yard!"

He rolled his eyes - which she couldn't see, fortunately - and edged the broom forward another step. It was hard to judge distances without any visible reference, anyway.

Then he could suddenly see the tank again - he was inside the area of effect of the tank's own Disillusionment Charm. And he could see Hermione beaming at him in the moonlight.

"It worked," he told her as he set down between her and the turret.

She nodded. "I noticed. Let's head inside so we can move in with the tank."

"Yes." And he could go back to being held in reserve for an emergency which wouldn't ever happen.

They climbed down the hatch. "We've tested it. We can pass through the wards," Hermione announced.

"Yes!" Sirius cheered. "Let's do this, then - we've been waiting long enough!" He climbed into the turret.

"We're not going to shoot the island," Hermione reminded him.

"We need to be ready for anything!" Sirius replied. "A tank without its gun being manned is just a target!"

Well, he wasn't wrong. But Ron didn't think that manning the gun would help too much versus intangible monsters. Or invisible flying wizards.

"Hold on, everyone!" Ginny's voice rang through the tank. "I'm going in!"

"Forward!" Sirius added.

Ron used one of the periscopes to watch the island appear once again. As before, he didn't feel anything when they crossed the wardline. Not that he should've, as a muggle, but still…

"OK. Park the tank over the eastern end of the island," Hermione said.

"Will do!" Ginny replied, quite enthusiastically, and the tank swerved before heading towards the end of the island opposite the prison.

"Let's get the tanks - the water tanks - ready to be deployed," Hermione said as soon as they had come to a stop.

"Alright." Ron and Harry went to the back of the tank, where the main ramp was located. They slipped into harnesses and clipped them to safety lines - which, Ron knew, had come from a plane.

"Feels like a cargo plane supply drop," Harry commented as they lowered the ramp. Ron suppressed a shudder at the cold wind - it hadn't been as cold on the broom. But that had been closer to the prison.

Hermione joined them with a floating water tank and a hose. "Don't get any on you. You don't want to have the DMSO enter your body," she told them.

"We know," Ron replied with a smile. She was obviously nervous and compensating by micro-managing. Harry rolled his eyes, though, and Hermione nodded, a little stiffly, at them.

"Feels a bit weird that we're doing this - we can't even see the Dementors," Ron's friend said.

"From this distance, you can't really aim anyway," Ron replied. "We're just hosing down the entire island. Like a water bomber with a never-ending water tank!"

Harry snorted as he grabbed the hose and climbed out on the ramp to push it through a gunport there and fix it in place, pointed downwards. That should keep a gust of wind from blowing the mixture back into the tank. The flying tank, not the water tank.

"All set up," Harry said as he climbed back in.

"Let's seal it up." Ron grabbed the curtain at the side and drew it across the ramp, then bent down to clip the edges closed while Harry did the same on the other side, only leaving a small gap for the hose.

"Everything's ready," Ron reported to the others once they had finished.

"Deploy the solution!" Luna yelled.

"Luna!" Hermione gasped.

"Yes?"

"Not you, the other Luna."

"I've always wanted to say that!" Luna giggled.

"Oh for… start it," Hermione said, turning towards Ron and Harry.

Hiding a grin, Ron opened the valve on the tank. He heard the solution rush through the hose and saw the rubber pipe buck a little from the pressure.

"Oh! It's hitting the Dementors that have gathered below us!" wizarding Luna said from where she was peering through a periscope - one modified to look down by Mr Weasley.

That explained the cold, Ron realised. "Does it work?"

"Not yet… They're still… Oh! Ew!"

"They've exploded," Hermione told them from her own spot. "As planned. Hose the area down a little longer, then start moving towards the prison. Slowly," Hermione told Ginny.

"Alright." Ginny sounded far too eager for what was actually a rather boring job if you couldn't actually see the monsters explode, in Ron's opinion. At least you could see the body parts left on the ground, though it was hard to spot the small remains from their altitude.

Then again, they had been working for this for so long, Ron couldn't stop himself from feeling happy, either.

Finally, those monsters would be gone.

They continued flying back and forth above this part of the island, spraying the DMSO mixture over the rocky ground.

"There's one trying to escape!" wizarding Luna yelled. "To the right! Our right! The other right!"

The tank shook a little as Ginny flew a weaving course. Obviously, the delivery mechanism could use some work.

On the other hand, Ron added to himself as wizarding Luna cheered, closely followed by Ginny and Luna when more body parts appeared on the island, the hose did spray the mixture over a rather wide area from this altitude, so it wasn't too much of a problem.

"They're fleeing towards the prison," Hermione said. "Dear Lord, look at their numbers!"

"A veritable horde," wizarding Luna agreed. "Although the correct term for a social group of Dementors hasn't yet been established. Mostly because few animals would like to be compared to them by having the same term used for Dementors. I fear we will have to invent one."

Ron shook his head. The wizarding Lovegoods had even worse priorities than the muggle ones.

"Let's hope that the guards will flee," Hermione said. "If so many Dementors rush the prison, even if they don't manage to get inside, their aura could overwhelm the guards."

"If they are too stupid to leave now, then they are too stupid to live," Harry mumbled.

"They should be flying away on their brooms already," Hermione said. "They were given keys to pass the wards for exactly such a situation - or for an attack by overwhelming forces from outside. So why aren't they fleeing? Did they forget to lock the doors? Or did they overlook a tunnel?"

"It doesn't look like the Dementors can enter the prison," wizarding Luna announced. "They're forming a cluster at the door. Oh! A Cluster of Dementors? What do you think?"

Ron thought that wizarding Luna showed precious little care for the Aurors and Hit-Wizards in the prison. On the other hand, if the Dementors couldn't enter…

"We could blow up the top of the tower. Flush them out," Sirius suggested. "A high-explosive shell would do it. Or two."

"We would also kill anyone who'd fled there," Hermione pointed out. She muttered a curse under her breath. "If they're still inside the prison, then they are now trapped. There are too many Dementors outside. Too close. We'll have to rescue the guards - after we destroy the Dementors."

Well, there was the emergency Ron had thought wasn't going to happen. Great. "If there are still people in the prison, then we can't flood the entire building."

"I'm aware of that," Hermione snapped. "Sorry," she added a moment later. "But this is… Why didn't the guards leave when they were suddenly besieged? It should've been obvious that they couldn't stay!"

"They were too dumb to realise it," Sirius said. "Sun Tsu's 'leave the enemy an obvious way out and they'll take it' plan only works if the way out is obvious enough for the enemy. If they're as thick as two short planks…"

"Or they were unwilling to flee," Harry added. "Too brave to retreat."

"Great. Our plan failed because of a Gryffindor stereotype," he heard Hermione mumble. "Keep the hose on the Dementors around the building. We need to clear them first."

Soon, the entire area was littered with body parts. Dementor parts, Ron silently corrected himself. "Do you see any more live ones on the island?" he asked.

"No," Hermione replied.

"I don't think so, unless they've managed to hide by covering themselves with the remains of the others," wizarding Luna said. "Like the Corpse Crab."

Ron wasn't going to ask about that creature. He looked at the prison. "We could wait until the guards recover and leave."

"We don't know what things are like inside the prison," Hermione replied. "If there are Dementors breaking into the basement, or which have just gathered too close…"

Ron sighed. "We'll need the hose to deal with them." And they'd have to wear hazmat suits to avoid getting splashed themselves. He didn't want to deal with water suddenly appearing inside his body in places in which it shouldn't appear.

Luna hummed the Ghostbusters theme.

*****​

She stared at the trapdoor. The open trapdoor. And she tried to ignore the snoring from the three-headed dog next to it. "We're too late. Snape's already got past Fluffy."

"Are you sure it's Snape?" Harry asked.

"Fluffy's asleep, but without any music being played," she explained. "And we know they're resistant to most spells and potions. That means whatever put him to sleep wasn't a normal spell or potion. And Snape knows both dark curses and exotic potions."

"And he acts like a Death Eater!" Ron added.

"And he's now on his way to steal the stone." Harry looked grim.

"We should get help," Hermione said.

"We tried. They didn't believe us," Ron pointed out.

"And we don't have time. We need to stop him ourselves," Harry said.

"We? We're first years!" she told them. "We don't know any curses!" Well, she didn't - and the boys better not know any curses, dark or otherwise! If she found out that they had managed to get hold of a restricted book and hadn't told her…

"No, we don't. But we don't need curses, though," Harry said. He was grinning. It looked forced, but he was grinning. He reached into his pocket. And his arm went in far deeper than should have been possible.

"You've got an Extension Charm on the pocket of your robe!" she exclaimed. She needed that on her book bag! And her trunk!

"Yes. Madam Malkin adds them for a fee," Harry told her as he rummaged around in his pocket. "Ah!"

He pulled out a jar. A jar full of buzzing bugs. Wasps. Or hornets. Or… "Macedonian Murder Wasps!" he announced. "I nicked this from Hagrid during our last visit. If the jar breaks, they'll attack the closest creature and won't stop! Snape will be too busy getting stung to curse us!"

"They're not literally murder wasps, are they?" she asked. She didn't want to kill Snape. Even if he was a nasty, mean, ill-tempered bigot who shouldn't be a teacher if he were the last wizard on Earth. Well, she didn't really want to kill him.

"Nope. Hagrid said you'd need two jars to kill someone," Harry told her with a grin.

"So… we throw the jar, then we start hexing the git. From a distance. While he's dealing with the wasps. Three versus one. We can do it." Ron nodded repeatedly, but he sounded as if he were trying to convince himself.

Hermione needed some convincing herself. And Harry wasn't half as confident as he appeared.

Yet none of them stayed behind when they went through the trapdoor.

*****​

 

[killgore444]

"Macedonian Murder Wasps!"

Click to shrink...

Neat!
As for the guards, they're probably just standing around trying to figure out what the hell is happening to the dementors.

This is a fun story, and doesn't get near enough comments for the time, effort and quality you provide.
Thank you.