Sunrise Over Britain :: Chapter 15 - Dinner Guests and Mad-Eye Madness

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Bob sat in front of his computer and appeared to be puzzled. Alyx paced behind him, wringing her hands and watching him carefully. The computer buzzed and whirred and the blank screen beckoned invitingly.

Finally Bob sat back and threw up his hands in frustration. "I have no clue what to write for a disclaimer!"

Alyx moaned and waited in fear. In California the apocalypse began with a shifting of the earth's crust, Tokyo fell under the heels of Godzilla and London burned. On a small stage in the middle of cyberspace, Severus Snape looked at Bob with hope in his eyes.

"I get off this time?" he whispered in front of the open microphone.

"You couldn't get off even with instructions!" Yelled Harry from the audience.

"Just say the words Severus, we'll do you next time," Alyx said, eyeing the man that looked amazing like Alan Rickman with a hair disease.

"Ahem. The author's of this story wish everyone reading it to understand that they own nothing in the Potter Universe, all rights to the characters belong to JK Rowling and her many corporate flunkies. We own nothing and make no claims to owning anything. Heck, we don't even own our cats!"

Snape looked up from the script. "I can't believe you made me say that!" He protested, looking at Alyx.

"Don't worry about it Alan... I mean Severus," Alyx said with a purr.

"OH PLEASE!" Luna shouted, then she stood up and shot a hole in Snape's chest shaped like West Virginia.

Everyone stared at Luna in shock and Alyx glared at Bob.

"Honestly, it wrote itself this time!" Bob pleaded, then cringed when she reached for the paddle.

"I'm outa here," Bob muttered in fear before teleporting away.

"You bastard! Get back here!" Alyx screamed.

"Ain't love grand Hermione?" Harry asked. Hermione nodded and went back to polishing Harry's wand.

Sunrise Over Britain
Chapter 15

Padfoot Manor (September 10th)...

Narcissa looked up from the book she was studying when Hermione opened the door to her room. The younger woman clutched a quill and parchment close to her chest, and her eyes held a look of panic as she stepped into the room.

"What's wrong, Hermione?" Narcissa asked, putting her book down.

Hermione walked over to one of the chairs and threw herself into it in a very un-lady like fashion. She had looked for Narcissa last night, but the older woman had been visiting with Andromeda and was unavailable.

Narcissa frowned at her. "You know, ladies of your station do not throw themselves about like that," she said frostily.

"Yeah, well, I'd throw myself out a window if I thought it would help with this dinner Harry set up," Hermione shot back, then she flushed and murmured an apology.

Narcissa hid a smile. She hadn't heard about any dinner plans, but if it was flustering Hermione it had to be interesting.

"So, tell me about this dinner and we'll see if we can fix the problem."

Hermione leaned forward on her chair. "We're having four Goblins to dinner tonight. Goblins! I don't know what to feed a Goblin but Harry called this a state dinner! Also, Amelia will be there in her capacity as Minister and she'll probably bring Arthur, as well. And if it's really a state dinner, then Ragnok will probably be coming. I know Harry invited him to dinner. And what do Goblins eat? I've been through a dozen books and they all say something different!"

Narcissa leaned forward and touched Hermione's hand, interrupting her tirade. "I remember the panic I felt when I first hosted a formal dinner, my dear. It is scary. The first thing to know is that your elves know exactly what to do. Dobby!"

There was a pop and Dobby appeared, looking anxious. He relaxed a little seeing Hermione. Despite knowing that Narcissa was forced to hurt him, he was never quite comfortable with her.

"Dobby, Master Harry is hosting a formal dinner this evening. We'll need food for at least twenty, plus four Goblins," Narcissa said.

Dobby looked to Hermione for confirmation. When she nodded at him, he perked up a bit. "Dobby knows where to gets some Goblin foods. Would boiled Dubog on a watercress base be alright with mistress?"

"Boiled Dubog?" asked Hermione dubiously.

"It's a Goblin delicacy. Not that I've tried it. From what I understand, they take the beast and toss it into a pot of boiling water," Narcissa replied.

"Alive?" Hermione asked in outrage.

Narcissa looked at the younger woman and smiled slightly. "Yes, Hermione, alive. Tell me, do you like lobster?"

She looked at Narcissa, a bit confused now. "Of course I like lobster."

"Lobsters are usually cooked alive. If they aren't, they can become quite poisonous," Narcissa replied, before turning back to the waiting elf. "Dobby, let's prepare for a buffet meal. Lobster and lamb for the humans and Dubog for our special guests. Also, check the cellar for brandy. Goblins don't care for our wines, but they have a taste for brandy. Make sure you put one special bottle of our oldest brandy aside, as a gift for Ragnok."

Dobby nodded and vanished with a pop.

"I always feel uncomfortable dealing with Dobby," Narcissa murmured sadly. "Lucius made me do so many foul things to that poor elf, when all Dobby wanted was someone to appreciate him."

"Harry's told him that he's part of the family. Dobby could call himself Dobby Potter and Harry wouldn't object in the least. I thought he was going to explode with joy when Harry told him that he's family," Hermione offered.

Narcissa eyed Hermione carefully for a moment. "Yes, well, Harry and Dobby do have a bit in common, both were abused. I think Harry would rescue anyone from that sort of situation," she said quietly. Then, with a slight shake of her head, she returned to the main subject. "Now then, dinner is mostly taken care of. If I know Dobby, he'll have elves cleaning the manor until it sparkles. Were you really working on a menu when you walked in here this morning?"

Hermione looked down at her feet and tried to hide the parchment in her fist.

"Dear, even if you and Harry were muggles, with his wealth you would have told one of your servants what to do. We don't have to specify everything, just name the main courses and let the servants do the rest."

Hermione looked down at her feet. She wasn't used to dealing with servants and, frankly, her cooking skills were terrible. It was something that bothered her quite a lot.

Narcissa leaned over and patted her hand kindly. "Don't worry. This is all part of growing up. Soon, this will be second nature to you. Just don't make the mistakes I did."

Hermione smiled gratefully and, after a few more minutes of small talk, stood and left the room, content that Dobby had the meal planning firmly in hand. Standing outside the door, she paused and wondered what Harry was up to. He had been slipping off to another room to work on some project of his, and he was keeping it pretty close to his chest. All she could sense was that he was concentrating very hard on something. Making her decision, she went in search of him.

Padfoot Manor, Basement workroom...

Hermione had quickly tracked down Harry, but found herself confronted with a door and a sign that read "Danger! Keep out!"

"Harry, are you in there?" she sent.

"Hermione?" he sent back, sounding startled.

"Who else would it would be?"

"Erm... no one, really."

Hermione sighed and placed her hands on her hips. "Harry, what in the name of Merlin are you up to in there? You've been disappearing into this room since Danni told you it was alright for you get out of bed!"

"Hang on a second. I'll get the door and you can come in."

A moment later the door opened and she entered the room. She was surprised to see Eocho standing in front of a chalkboard. On the floor were two of the strangest contraptions she had ever seen. Then she spotted the Arithmancy equations all over the chalkboard.

"Just what are you up to in here, Harry?" she asked, turning to face him.

She watched him survey the room full of strange equipment and equations scrawled on the walls, then he shrugged and turned back to her.

"Well, it was an attempt to make a new transportation system, but it didn't work out too well."

Eocho drifted over with a scowl on his face. "The Maglios is being too harsh on himself. He has accomplished much."

Hermione eyed the strange device on the floor. It looked like a very large window frame with no glass. The base was covered in glowing runes. Next to it was a pedestal with a circular knob resting above it. The knob appeared to be movable. She reached out to run her hand over the window frame, but Harry smacked her hand away from it.

"NO! Don't touch it until I shut it down," he said. He fiddled with the knob for a moment, then pushed it down into the pedestal, causing the glowing runes to fade. To Hermione, the control seemed to resemble a cross between a joystick and a combination lock.

"There, now it's safe. The pedestal controls the portal," he said, as if it were obvious.

"But how does it work?"

Harry's face went blank for a moment, then he scowled. "Well, it only partially works and I haven't been able to figure out why."

"Perhaps if you started from the beginning, Maglios, you would not be confusing your mate. She has a keen mind and she might be able to see what we have not."

Harry ran a hand through his hair and limped over to a stool, where he sat down and looked at her. "Wizarding transportation leaves a lot to be desired. Most people can't tandem apparate easily, or far enough. The Floo system is hundreds of years old and hasn't been updated in all that time. It's dirty and disorienting for first time users and small children. Portkeys aren't much better and for a family the children invariably need a motion sickness potion before using one. Most people can't apparate across the country, let alone around the world.

"When we visited the stone circle, you said that some believed they were a form of instant transportation. Then you said you didn't believe that because the circles were tied to specific astronomical events, like the solstice or equinoxes. That got me thinking though. Wouldn't be nice if you could make a way of stepping from one place to another, without any whirling, twirling and spinning?

"That's what I've been trying to make here. A way of traveling from, say, Padfoot manor to Diagon Alley, just by stepping through a portal. When you set the pedestal to the right destination, a connection is made that allows the portals to overlap in space for a time. We're going to need something like this when the war is over."

Hermione looked again at the portal, only this time she was suitably impressed. She examined it for a moment, then turned back to Harry. "So what's the problem? Doesn't it work?"

Harry scowled and Eocho stepped forward. "The Maglios is impatient. His portals work, only nothing living can pass through them without being killed. He can send all manner of objects and foodstuffs through the portal successfully. It just needs refining. However, he fails to see that his portals can be used in our war to send material over great distances," Eocho said, frowning at the frustrated young man.

"Yes, Honored Teacher, we have gone over this. But to be really effective, sending living things is necessary," Harry objected. He had visions of using the portal to move large groups of fighters. If he could only get the damned thing to work!

Hermione walked around the portal and the pedestal several times. She could see a glowing portal on the far side of the room. She turned to glance at Harry for a moment.

"You've done something marvelous here. Now stop belittling yourself," she chided him gently via their bond.

"How have you been testing this?" she asked, her interest now fully piqued. She had no intention of letting Harry tear himself apart over a perceived failure.

"We've done all sorts of objects, food, charmed items and so on. When we tried a few conjured mice, they didn't survive the trip. Then I had Dobby catch a few real mice, just to be sure there was no difference, but the results were the same."

"So the portal contains the runes for controlling the transport. What does the pedestal do?"

"The pedestal contains most of the controls for the transport mechanism. It determines which transport frame it will send to. Each frame is uniquely keyed. The pedestal acts like a dial, allowing you to tune in which frame you're sending to."

"And it works for everything, except living creatures?" she asked again.

When Harry and Eocho both nodded, she turned a practiced eye towards the chalkboard. "Are those your only notes?"

"No," Harry said defensively, "I have a notebook."

He summoned the large notebook and Hermione recognized it as the same one he had spent the last month scribbling in. He handed it to her and she took it with a raised eyebrow.

He shrugged. "Maybe you can see what we've done wrong, Hermione. Neither Eocho nor I can figure it out and I was hoping to demonstrate this today," he said, sounding disappointed with himself.

Hermione thumbed through his book for a few minutes, while Eocho and Harry looked on. After several minutes, she looked up at Harry, her brow furrowed.

"I'm not sure I understand all of this, Harry, but I've already spotted a few sections where the idea seems a little shaky. I'm not saying it's wrong, I'm just saying I need to study this to understand what you're trying to do. If this portal of yours works for everything except living creatures, you've already solved one problem. Inanimate objects can only be sent via floo or portkey if someone is holding onto them. Is there a size limit to how big an object the portal can transport?"

Harry walked over to the far side of the room and dialed something in on the pedestal. The window frame shrunk down to the size of a small shoe box. Then he returned to where Hermione stood and reactivated the nearby portal.

"Hermione, levitate that bench over to the transport frame," Harry said.

She looked at the six foot long bench and then at the transport frame, barely five inches wide. Shrugging, she pulled out her wand and levitated the bench.

When the bench crossed over the runes of the base there was a snapping sound and the transport frame seemed to fill with a liquid that bubbled slightly and glowed. The bench touched the liquid, seemed to stretch impossibly, then vanished with a pop. Hermione looked shocked, then remembered the receiving frame. Turning quickly, her eyes widened slightly. There, twenty feet away, the bench lay in front of the frame, which had expanded to fit the bench perfectly.

Harry chuckled at Hermione's expression, while Eocho looked on, amused."I won't say it's limitless in size, but you could probably drive a lorry through it and have it come out intact and functional on the other end," he told her.

Hermione stepped back and crossed her arms for a moment. Then she made up her mind. "Harry, get some elves to set up these two portals of yours out in the front yard, say two hundred feet apart."

"Hermione? What are you up to?"

"You'll see this evening, Harry. Trust me," she told him, caressing his cheek gently. "Go take your bath now. I'll want one before I dress and I don't want to have to fight you for the bathroom."

Harry smiled crookedly. He then powered down both portals and left the room.

Hermione watched him go and wished she could join him. She was startled out of her thoughts when Eocho spoke.

"He is disappointed. He so wanted to show you a complete, working portal."

"I know, Honored Teacher, but my husband fails to recognize his own genius. Remus was right, Potter men seem to stumble onto ideas that earn them fame and fortune. My husband is no different," she said, with no small amount of pride.

"He may be disappointed, but I for one am thrilled at what he's done. Tonight, we'll show off an advance prototype of the Potter Portals to the leader of the Goblin nation, as well as the Minister of Magic. The economic potential is nearly unlimited."

Eocho eyed her for a moment, surprised. "I had not thought you would care much about such things, my daughter," he replied, his expression becoming unreadable.

"I don't care for them, Honored Teacher. But I must make plans to ensure my family is taken care of. What kind of wife would I be if I didn't look out for my husband and our children?"

Eocho was silent for a moment, then he nodded. "Plan for your family, my daughter, just do not fall into the trap of greed. It is an easy trap to fall into and has consumed many a good person."

Hermione bowed her head, acknowledging Eocho's gentle warning. "I shall be most wary, Honored Teacher."

Eocho studied her for a moment longer, then he smiled. "Go, my daughter. Read the book the Maglios gave you. Perhaps you can see what we cannot."

Hermione clutched the precious book tightly and walked from the room.

After running several errands, she caught up with Harry in their bedroom nearly an hour later. He was sitting at their breakfast table, wearing only his boxers and reading a parchment, his body still damp from the shower he had taken.

"Something interesting?" she asked as she began to undress for her bath.

"Not really," he replied with a shrug. "Caleb is thinking about a raid on the other two camps we know Voldemort has set up. But no one seems to know where they are, or how well they're protected. We're having a bit of a disagreement over what we should do next and we're trying to work it out."

"Oh? I haven't heard about any disagreement. What seems to be the problem?"

"Nothing major. I say we need to start hitting back at his forces, including the British Army holding the cities. He wants to do more rescue missions," he said, frowning.

Hermione stopped undressing and looked at him inquisitively.

"Oh, he's probably right. The raid on Azkaban has flooded us with offers of fighters and equipment from more than twenty countries. If we accept all the help being offered, we'd have several thousand fighters. Remus is already pulling his hair out trying to figure out where we can put them all. There's a big parcel of land immediately to our north that's owned by the muggle Irish government. Remus wants to see if the Irish Ministry can talk the Irish Government into selling it off."

She sat on the edge of the bed and frowned. "You don't sound very enthusiastic over the idea."

"I suppose it would be a good idea, but..." Harry paused and sighed. "Rescuing people is nice, but it doesn't bring us any closer to going home, Hermione. We'll probably accept the help. Merlin knows we'll need it."

Hermione sat back, resting on her elbows, and looked at him. "You know, you never really said where you want to live after the war," she said softly.

"I like Padfoot Manor, but it's not home to me. Grimmauld is alright, I guess. It's close to Diagon Alley and London. But Hogwarts was the only place I ever considered home.

"As far as where we'd live, that's something we'll have to talk about. We own twelve properties from the Potter family, including six overseas, and we own another fourteen properties from the Blacks. If we can't find something suitable among them, I'll build you a home you'll be happy to live in.," he replied, his eyes unfocused. In his mind, he could see a home with lots of space for children to play and maybe even his own Quidditch pitch.

Hermione smiled. Harry didn't realize it, but he'd broadcast that image to her. His vision of home sounded perfect. She shook her head, then grabbed her robe and clothing. She wanted to soak before tonight's dinner and think about things. Between his portals and his plans for after the war, she had a lot to consider.

She walked into the bathroom, while Harry turned back to the parchment he was reading.

Draco and Luna's room (Padfoot Manor)...

Draco stood staring into the mirror while he tried to adjust his tie for the fifteenth time. He had better things to be doing with his time than worrying about some special dinner Harry was holding. It irritated him no end that Harry knew he had better things to do.

It wasn't helping that Draco's foul mood was brought on by yet another prank from the Weasley twins. It seems that every time they were about to deliver some new toy for people to use in the field, they celebrated with a series of pranks against anyone and everyone.

Draco had found himself sporting a decidedly bushy Hermione-like look this morning when he opened his office door. Sitting on his desk was a new invention from the twins that they felt might be useful - Hover shoes. Apparently, with these shoes, the wearer would be able to walk on water, or even air, for up to a minute. The twins thought it might be useful in evading capture.

The door opened and Draco watched Luna enter the room. She casually walked over to him and wrapped both arms around him. He leaned back a little into her embrace and closed his eyes. Because of their unique bond, physical intimacy, even just holding each other, was a very pleasurable experience.

"I like the hair, but don't you think Harry might confuse you for Hermione?" she asked, smiling slightly.

Draco knew she was holding back her laughter. "Oh, go ahead and laugh. But one of these days I'm going to get those Weasels back."

Luna giggled and she quickly straightened out his tie before turning to get dressed herself. "You've been saying that for weeks, Dray, and you have never managed to prank them back."

"Hey! Whose side are you on?"

Luna turned to look at him. He watched her in the mirror and couldn't help feeling more than a little aroused, what with her standing in just her bra and panties.

"I'm on your side, Dray. But you've been trying to act like a Gryffindor and I have to admit that it's a little disappointing. You've been trying to prank them back and you know that's not a very Slytherin thing to do."

"Luna!" Draco exclaimed, his expression mortified. "You wound me! Me? Act like a Gryffindor?"

She eyed him with amusement, her hands on her hips. "Oh, really? Then how come you're thinking about pranking back? A Slytherin would want to do something so that they'd never prank again."

He paused, his brow furrowed in thought. He had been trying to prank the twins back and that was like trying to win against a chess master when you are barely able to play! He had been trying to play by their rules, when he should be making up his own. His eyes narrowed for a moment and a sly grin crossed his face.

Luna nodded satisfactorily. Draco was coming around on the issue. Then she pulled out one of the Black family robes to wear and frowned. The family robes are really quite dull, she thought.

"I wonder if I can convince Harry to change the color of these robes," she said, mostly to herself. Then she waved her wand, changing the black robe into one of bright orange. On the skirt portion there were flaming pink Flamingos, which walked across the fabric and looked around curiously. Around her neck she wore a chain of live minks.

Draco blinked and wondered if his eyes would ever recover from the shock. "Luna, my love, you can't do that to the family robes. We only wear them on formal occasions anyway, so would it hurt very much if you wore them as they were supposed to be?"

"But black is so boring, Dray," she protested.

Draco bit his lip and did his best not to laugh. "Tell you what. If Harry says you can change the colors of the robes, then go ahead and do so. You know the rules, that sort of change needs to be approved by the head of the family," he said, trying not to smile.

"Fine!" Luna said airily, then she walked from the room in her now neon robes.

A moment later she knocked, then opened the door to Harry and Hermione's bedroom. "Harry," she said in a serious tone, ignoring the fact that he had fallen off the bed, half naked, and was scrambling to cover himself using a blanket.

Hermione stared at Luna in confusion. She, too, was barely dressed. She had just reached around to hook her bra strap when the blond barged in.

"Harry, Draco says I have to ask you for permission to change the family robe color," she said. She looked at him expectantly, ignoring the nearly naked Hermione now sitting on the bed, staring between the two.

"Luna! I'm not dressed!" he protested.

"Pish posh! You don't have anything that Dray doesn't. Besides, this is more important. Now, about the family robes?"

"Any color you want, Luna," Harry said, while huddled under the blanket. He kept snaking a hand out to reach for his pants, but they were just out of reach.

"Thank you, Harry," Luna said. Then she waved her wand quickly, before walking out of the room.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, stood up and reached for his pants.

Hermione's eyes bulged and she slid off the bed, laughing hysterically. Luna's parting spell had planted the words 'Hermione's love muffin' along the back of Harry's boxers and he couldn't see it.

Harry eyed her suspiciously for a moment before putting on his pants.

Dinner with Ragnok and company...

Harry stood at the bottom of the grand staircase, waiting. Hermione rushed about checking on everything. Narcissa followed close behind her, double checking, much to Hermione's relief. She was hosting a formal dinner tonight and it made her more nervous than taking her OWLs.

Amelia had arrived a few minutes earlier and, after greeting her, Harry managed to steer her into the sitting room, where the house elves were serving drinks and hors d'oeuvres. The doors to the sitting room were open, so all of the Brotherhood, and Harry's guests, could see him waiting expectantly.

At precisely six o'clock, a blur appeared in the foyer in front of the stairs and Harry moved forward to welcome his guests. The portkey had delivered four goblins to the foyer. Hermione joined him, facing the group of Goblins.

Harry removed and expanded his staff, tapped it once against the floor and released it to hover silently next to him. Then he held his hands out, palms up, to show they hands were empty.

"On behalf of the House of Potter, I bid thee welcome, honored guests. I offer you sanctuary and protection during your visit. If by my life, or my magic I can defend thee, it will be done," Harry said.

Ragnok's eyes widened hearing him offer the ancient goblin greetings. What happened next surprised everyone.

"Mirshak et kru argallÅ'," Hermione said haltingly.

All four goblins grinned toothlessly at her words.

"What did you say?" Harry sent Hermione.

"It's gobbledegook, but it means 'My mate and I welcome you.'" she sent back.

Ragnok approached them. He bowed for moment then straightened. "We accept your sanctuary, honored host and if by our lives or our magic we can defend thee or thy house, it will be done," he said, giving the appropriate response to the ancient greeting.

A crowd slowly formed up behind the Potters, watching curiously.

Ragnok held out a hand with two fingers outstretched and another Goblin came forward, taking his hand. "It is good to see you again, Mr. Potter. May I introduce you to my mate and life companion, Leenar?"

The second goblin was slightly shorter than Ragnok, but dressed in a similar manner.

Harry and Hermione nodded politely to Leenar.

"And this is elder Gapsit, and his mate Morla," Ragnok continued.

After acknowledging the other two goblins, Harry introduced the people standing behind them. Ragnok raised one eyebrow when he came to Amelia, but since this was largely a social visit, he said nothing. Amelia, on the other hand, was dumbfounded. Harry had managed to do something no Minister had accomplished. He had set up a meeting with the leader of the Goblin nation and his chief adviser.

Hermione grabbed Harry's hand after all the introductions were made, then she turned to Ragnok.

"Director, dinner will be ready shortly. However, before we sit down to dinner we would like to show you something that you might find not only interesting, but profitable," she said.

Ragnok's eyes widened slightly, but he nodded for her to lead the way.

Hermione led the large party out the front doors and out onto the lawn. There, several elves were setting up Harry's portals.

She stopped the group in front of one of the portals and turned to face everyone. "My husband has, for the last several weeks, been working on an idea. I will warn everyone right now. Do not touch these devices, as they are just prototypes and still quite dangerous. Harry? Would you please demonstrate?"

"What are you doing?" he sent her. "You know these don't work right yet!"

"Trust me. Just show them the portal in operation."

Harry demonstrated the portal, but asked that everyone hold off their questions until dinner. After twenty minutes of explanation and demonstration, he led everyone back into the manor and to the formal dinning room.

Leading the goblins into the dinning room, Ragnok and his guests looked approvingly at the boiled Dubog, while Hermione looked at it, as well as the lobster, and swallowed nervously. Taking a plate, she chose the lamb, just to be safe.

Ragnok sat next to the head of the table. Harry had intended to offer him the head spot, but he didn't get the chance. Taking the seat himself, he then offered to pour brandy for his goblin guests, who looked at the bottle eagerly.

There was little conversation while everyone ate. In the end it was Ragnok who broke the near silence.

Picking up his brandy snifter, he swirled the liquid around, inhaled deeply and sipped. Leaning back on his chair, he looked at Harry. "You didn't invite us out here for just a meal, as pleasant as this company is, Mr. Potter. You had a motive, did you not?"

Harry raised his glass in salute, acknowledging the point. "Yes, Director, I do have two motives in mind. The first was simple. I'd hope to enlist your aid. The second is more important to me and to our world."

Ragnok looked intrigued and he motioned for Harry to continue.

"Very well then, let's start with the second reason. Across the table sits Minister Bones. As far as I can tell, no Director of Gringotts has ever had any contact with any Ministry, except following a war between our two peoples. Now, far be it for me, as a private citizen, to poke my nose into politics. But it seems to me that the Magical world - not the Wizarding world, not the Goblin world - but the Magical world suffers because of the suspicions between our two peoples. I'm not suggesting that you immediately rush out to make a new treaty, but as you can see, Director, our peoples can get along with each other," Harry said, gesturing down the table where Amelia was laughing at something Gapsit had told her.

Ragnok glanced down the table and his eyes widened slightly before he turned back to Harry. "You make a strong point, Mr. Potter. Perhaps it would be to our benefit to open a dialog with your Ministries."

Harry bowed his head for a moment, then he raised his own glass in salute. "If I may be of service in this, Director, you have but to ask."

"I think I may ask for a moment alone with Minister Bones, after dinner. Perhaps in some out of the way sitting room or study?" asked Ragnok.

"My house is at your disposal, Director. Dobby?" Harry called.

Dobby appeared by his side. "Dobby, would you see that Minister Bones and Director Ragnok are made comfortable in the main study after dinner?"

Dobby nodded and vanished with a small pop. Harry glanced apologetically at Ragnok, who smiled benignly at him. Even though Goblins did not use House Elves themselves, they were well versed in their behavior and antics.

"You said you had two reasons for our invitation, Mr. Potter?" Ragnok prompted.

Hermione looked over from her conversation with Ragnok's mate, Leenar. "Yes, Minister. My husband wants to talk to you about his portals and their use during the war. But I'm sure you have already recognized their commercial value," she offered.

"Indeed. If, as you say, you will be able to eventually allow for animate object transport, as well as inanimate cargo, the commercial possibilities are endless," Leenar murmured, jumping into the conversation.

Ragnok watched the two females converse with amusement.

"I have every confidence that we'll overcome this final hurdle. Then it's just a matter of cleaning up the portals and packaging them for market," Hermione replied.

"How do you envision their use?"

"There would be two markets, consumer and commercial. The consumer market would allow for families to use them between other consumer portals, or between homes and commercial public portals, for a fee."

"Maintaining the public portals would be a time consuming and resource heavy task and you lack the infrastructure to support such an endeavor," Leenar pointed out.

"Perhaps we'll franchise out the commercial management," mused Hermione.

Leenar's eyes glinted with anticipation.

Harry watched for a moment longer, then he motioned back to Ragnok. "Director, while our mates figure out ways to make us even richer than we already are, I am interested in using the portals for the war effort and immediately following the war."

Ragnok tore his eyes away from the two females and motioned for Harry to continue.

"Director, you have facilities, other than the main branch banks, which you've protected. Not all of those facilities connect to your underground track system and the vaults, correct?"

Ragnok nodded reluctantly.

"What I would like, Director, is permission to use some of your facilities to pre-position material, and perhaps fighters, if we can fix that particular problem. Right now we have no grand plan as yet, no idea of exactly what we'll be doing. All I'm trying to do is lay the groundwork, the foundation for getting the material over to a secure location that Voldemort's men can't breach."

Ragnok leaned back and considered his reply very carefully. The Goblins rarely got involved in Wizarding conflicts because they rarely picked the winning side. He took another sip of his brandy and tried to formulate a diplomatic reply that didn't commit him one way or the other.

"We'll cooperate fully with you, Lord Potter," Leenar said succinctly.

Both males looked at their mates in confusion. They'd gotten involved in their own conversation and had forgotten about the women.

"We will, Leenar?" exclaimed Ragnok.

"Of course, my mate. We usually cooperate with our partners. Lady Potter and I have just concluded an agreement that will give us commercial control of his portals for freight transport. We will pay the Potter Family Trust a mere three sickles royalty per pound of freight," Leenar said smugly.

Ragnok sat back silently for a moment, calculating. The amount of money paid to the Potter family would be substantial, but the amount of money earned by Gringotts would be astronomical! Even if they never get the portals working for people, the freight business alone would make it worth the risk.

Ragnok raised his glass to Leenar. "I bow to your suggestion, my mate," he said, then he turned to Harry. "It seems, my Lord, that our mates have outwitted us both."

Harry reached out and gently touched Hermione's hand. "Yes, Director. I fear you are correct. In that regard, we are both lucky to have such intelligent mates."

Hermione looked startled, then her expression turned serious. She had, in an effort to make today's dinner go off without a hitch, run roughshod over several people in the manor, including her husband. She was about to say something when Harry stood and offered to show Ragnok to the study.

When Harry and the Director left the room, Hermione's smile faltered a bit and she tried to sample what Harry was feeling from their bond.

Amelia was enjoying herself, much to her surprise. When Harry mentioned a formal dinner with special guests she had thought he had meant the American Secretary of Magic. He had been making some noise for a while about visiting Haven. She would have bet her entire family fortune, which wasn't much, that she wouldn't be meeting with Goblins at this dinner.

Gapsit and his mate proved to be engaging conversationalists. With a longer life span than any human, the Goblin Elder was able to recall happenstances from hundreds of years ago. She was surprised to hear him explain several so-called rebellions and how most of them were misunderstandings brought about by the inherent mistrust between the humans and the Goblins.

She turned when she felt a touch against her arm, then she looked down to see Dobby, Harry's personal house elf watching her with his huge eyes.

"Yes?"

"Mistress Minister, Master Harry Potter requests that you join him and his guest in the master study. May I show you the way?"

Amelia nodded, then turned to her dinner companions and made her excuses before following the elf out of the dinning room.

Amelia's surprise hit a new high when Dobby ushered her into the study where Harry and Ragnok sat casually conversing. Harry looked up at Amelia and stood up, smiling.

He turned to Ragnok and bowed slightly, then he bowed to Amelia. "I will leave the two of you to your discussion," he said. Then he called Dobby and instructed the little elf to bring Amelia and Ragnok whatever they needed.

The two politicians watched Harry leave the room and, for a moment, there was utter silence.

"A most interesting and formidable young man," Ragnok murmured. "Did you know that he doesn't speak in terms of the Wizarding world, like so many wizards do? He talks of the magical world, where Goblins, Centaurs and House Elves are equals to Wizards and Witches."

Amelia shook her head and frowned. "I know his elf isn't bound to him. Harry treats him like a member of the family. And while his wife, Hermione, does have a bound elf, that elf bosses her around as if she were a child. Harry was never exposed to the many prejudices of the Wizarding world, and those he has been exposed to, he rejects outright."

Ragnok looked thoughtful for a moment. "It seems our host would like us to do the same, Minister. He feels that, for the sake of the Magical world, it would be best if we worked together to achieve a greater understanding and acceptance between our two societies."

Amelia leaned forward on her seat and stared at Ragnok in amazement. "That's it? He had no idea of treaties or asking for aid or anything like that? He just wants us to be friends?"

Ragnok chuckled and offered to refill her glass. "Amazing, isn't it? He invites us over here and basically tells us to cease bickering and be friends."

Amelia lifted her glass in toast to Ragnok. "Since he has been able to get us talking, nothing else he does will surprise me."

"Indeed, Minister, nor I," countered Ragnok and for a brief moment both looked towards the door Harry had just exited.

Harry and Hermione's bedroom, later that night...

Harry walked into the bedroom a little tired from the day, but rather pleased. Amelia and Ragnok seemed to part on friendly terms and they even made noises about setting up a meeting in the coming weeks. When he started to get out of his dress robes, he finally noticed the muted pensive mood his wife was in. She was considering something hard and whatever it was had her worried.

"What's wrong, Hermione?"

She sat on the bed facing away from him with her head bowed. She was only half dressed.

"Am I too pushy, Harry? I know I made you demonstrate your portals today when you felt you weren't ready yet. Then Leenar and I went ahead and make a deal right under your nose...and Ragnok's too, I suppose. The more I think about it, it seems I've always been bossy, pushing you and Ron to do homework, to study, not to break rules. Bloody hell, I even pushed you into our sex life before we got married!"

"Right, and I fought hard against that, didn't I?" he commented dryly.

Hermione shot him a grin, then her expression turned serious again.

"Seriously... Am I really that bossy?" she sent him, her voice suddenly uncertain.

Harry walked around the bed and knelt in front of her.

"Love, your bossy when you need to be, and perhaps that's the public image you portray. But I know otherwise. I've seen you chew your lip in doubt. Sure, you nag me to take my potions when I'm sick and I complain to you about it. But don't you understand how much I enjoy knowing you care enough to nag at me?"

She laughed a little and ran her hand through his hair fondly, but Harry could tell she wasn't convinced.

"Hermione, let's look at what you do."

"What do you mean," she sent suspiciously.

"A couple months ago, before we got married, you had a conversation with Remus. During that conversation he implied that it was up to you to make sure we had enough money for everything we wanted to do in our lives."

"Yes, I remember that conversation. Are you telling me that he set me up?" she sent, her inner voice was now laced with anger.

Harry sent her a calming caress via their bond. "No, he didn't set you up. He tried to help you overcome your reluctance to our wealth. He wasn't lying. From what I understand, my mother handled a lot of estate management for my father, but only because my father wanted to make sure she learned how. It was wartime and he wanted to make sure she understood how to manage our family's assets in case something happened to him. I don't claim to fully understand all this money stuff, but I trust you implicitly with it, and I know you won't do anything that would hurt our family. And when the time comes, you'll be able to teach me about it.

"You did something today that never occurred to me. I was ready to give the Goblins portals in return for placing them in strategic locations we could maybe use during the war. Then you come along and set up a deal that will fatten the family fortune even more. I knew the portals had value, but I didn't care about that. To me, they were just a wartime tool. I am overwhelmingly proud of what you did today. If I had one objection, it would be that you didn't ask me first, or discuss your plans with me ahead of time. But the end results couldn't have been better if I'd planned them myself.

"Getting back to your original question. Are you bossy? The answer is, sometimes yes, but only in those areas where you believe you have a firm understanding of the subject and you believe you have some measure of control over the subject. You took control of our finances and relieved me of a burden I didn't want. When Voldemort is gone, we'll sit down and work out new duties for both of us."

"So you don't mind me barging in and making decisions like that?"

"No, not really. To be honest, I would have preferred if you'd talked to me first, but I can see how it wasn't possible, considering what you accomplished today with the dinner party and making sure everything ran smoothly. Besides, I know you, love. You're not bossy where it really counts."

"Oh? And where is that, Mr. Potter?" she asked, slipping back into normal speech and arching an eyebrow at him.

Harry got up off his knees and placed both hands on the bed, one beside each of her hips. She was forced to move back on the bed and she looked at him, surprised.

"Even when I'm discussing operations against Voldemort, you only offer an opinion at best. There is no doubt in my mind, however, that once Voldemort becomes a thing of the past, our roles will shift again," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, we have so much money we don't have to work to put food on the table. We'll be able to do work we enjoy, without having to worry about finances. What do you want to do after the war? That's going to be an important question for all of us. What will be the role of the Brotherhood be after the war? None of us have really thought about it much. I know I haven't."

He shifted slightly and tried to hide the flash of pain he felt from his leg. Hermione's eyes narrowed and she grabbed her wand. Before he could say anything she was levitating him onto the bed.

"Can't have you hurting when you can easily avoid it," she said, then she rolled on the bed until she was next to him.

He wrapped an arm around her and their conversation slipped to the non-verbal as they exchanged thoughts and images. Before either realized what was happening, they fell asleep, sharing their dreams. A short while afterwards, Dobby and Winky popped in and placed a blanket over them both.

Haven School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, First Year Defense Class (Sept 11th)...

The first years filed into the classroom somewhat uneasily. Professor Stonefist had been absent for their first two classes and Professor Pickerton had filled in for him. Professor Pickerton was a soft spoken man for the most part and his teaching methods were quite gentle. No one knew what Professor Stonefist was about, except that he was a huge, intimidating looking individual.

A hush fell in the classroom when the door to the Defense office opened and Stonefist walked out. Under his arm was a huge box, which he handled easily. Stonefist didn't bother wearing professor robes, preferring instead to dress in jeans and a t-shirt.

Placing the box on the desk he looked up at the class. "All of you, get out of those robes for this class," he growled.

There was a scramble as the class tried to get out of their robes as quickly as possible.

"You!" he barked at one student who had shucked his robe and taken his seat. "How long is your wand?"

"T-Thirteen and a half inches, Professor," said the first year timidly.

"Thirteen and a half inches!" roared Stonefist, causing most of the students to jump in fright. "Then how do you plan on carrying your wand Mr... Mr. Middleton?" he asked after consulting a seating chart.

"Umm. I'm not sure, Professor. My back pocket, I guess," the boy answered, his voice a bit shaky.

"That's an interesting way to lose an ass cheek, Middleton. When the time comes for you to explain to your first girlfriend just why you're missing an ass cheek, please be so kind as to invite me. I'd love to hear that conversation," Stonefist barked out. "I want all of you to listen up! You've all experienced accidental wand flares. It's a common problem with young students who've yet to learn to control their magic. Now imagine, you're walking down the hall, your wand in your back pocket, and it flares. I'm telling you now, people, I will not have any of my students running to the infirmary with a flaming ass! Do you understand me?" he roared.

He heard a few murmurs and nearly growled. "I can't hear you!" he bellowed. "Now speak up when spoken to."

"Yes, sir!" the class bellowed back.

"Better, much better," he said as he reached into the box on his desk. A moment later he pulled out a strange looking leather object and held it up for everyone to see. "This, ladies and gentlemen," he continued in an overly loud voice, "is the junior edition of the standard Auror Wand Holster. These beauties have been donated to the school, thanks in part to the Ministry of Magic, and Smith and Wesson, the American arms manufacturer.

"Now, you'll note that each holster is exactly a regulation five point five inches long. Why don't I see anyone writing this down?" Stonefist paused, then nodded in satisfaction when the class scrambled for parchment and quill.

"Better... Now, as I was saying. Although Auror holsters are made normally of dragon hide, this one is standard leather, though it contains the same spells as a standard holster. These beauties are summon resistant, flame resistant and water resistant. They contain an automatic shrinking charm that will reduce the size of your wand to precisely five point zero inches.

"Each holster is also charmed to extend and resize the wand automatically, based on a specific hand movement. Releasing the wand from your hand will cause it to automatically retract to your holster. And finally, in the event that your forearm is broken, the holster will prevent your wand from damage. This is a good thing, ladies and gentlemen. A very good thing.

"In a few minutes, each of you will come up and get one of these. You will wear these at all times! You will sleep with your wand in it's holster and on your arm or by Merlin I'll make you learn to sleep without an arm!

"Over the next month we will learn to use these holsters, as well as proper wand care. Once you've mastered that, we'll start on something fun, getting into shape! Now, step up here and get your holster. For homework tonight, I want everyone to read and understand the holster's instruction manual. I also want each and every one of you to write a letter of thanks to Mr. Jedidiah Smith of Smith & Wesson for giving you these holsters."

Stonefist leaned back and watched the kids come up with more than a little amusement. His friend Jed had offered to outfit the entire school when he had learned that his old Gunny was going to be teaching kids. America and Canada, unlike the European nations, started their kids off with training wands much earlier in life and leather holsters were a common item for kids.

He was satisfied. These kids would learn from the beginning how to handle themselves. His other students had finally gotten out of their basic PT stage, thanks to the use of a time turner, and he had turned them over to the hand to hand combat instructor for a new set of bruises. He nearly chuckled, thinking about it. He didn't want to be Harry Potter when his wife got home from her new classes tonight. In the meantime, he'd teach these kids and wait for the next batch of Aurors to arrive. Aurors that he had to turn from cops to soldiers.

Cairngorm Mountains, Scotland...

Nippers looked up from filling the bucket with stream water.

"Who there?"

Another elf stepped out from behind a tree. The short creature was dressed funny for an elf. He wore a leather jerkin that came down to just below his waist. On one sleeve were strange markings and he wore a belt with a variety of tools, including a dagger.

"I is Tobby, Commander of the Haven Scout Elves," the other elf said with quiet dignity.

Nippers' eyes widened and his ears drooped a little. "I didn't know. I sorry, Sir."

House elves and their brand of magic had been ignored for so many centuries. Few wizards were even aware that the elves had a secure method of communications that spanned all of the continents. Wizards like Harry Potter and Draco Black were only now coming to appreciate their abilities. Nippers was well aware of the large group of elves that had joined with the humans at Haven to fight the evil consuming the land.

"What brings Tobby to me?"

Tobby poked Nippers in the chest. "We knows you staying wit peg legged man wit one eye. I have message from General-Lord-Harry-Potter-Black-Sir for peg leg."

Nippers winced from the poke, but nodded. "What message?"

Tobby reached into a pouch at his belt and pulled out a sealed scroll. "You give to peg leg. I come back here tomorrow to get answer."

Nippers nodded and clutched the scroll tightly. Having completed his task, Tobby vanished with a pop, leaving Nippers looking around fearfully.

The Ministry of Magic, Haven (Sept 12th)...

Amhar Coeur de Lion was infuriated. He had been discharged only a few days ago from the hospital and sent to a small cottage to live. House elves delivered food to his house everyday, but that was all the contact he had with anyone and that wasn't right! Didn't they know he was a member of the Wizengamot and a direct descendant of Richard I, the Lion Heart? He had royal blood flowing through his veins!

Amhar stepped into the lobby of the building and looked around in confusion. Normally the lobby of the Ministry of Magic was a sedate place where people rarely spoke and when they did, it was in hushed whispers. Things are definitely different about this building, huffed Amhar to himself. People bustled about and there was a steady hum of conversation. Spotting an information desk, he walked over to it.

"Good morning, sir, and welcome to the Ministry of Magic. How can I help you?" said the young woman behind the desk.

His eyes narrowed when he noticed the woman wore a name tag identifying her as a student volunteer. "I wish to speak to the Minister of Magic," he replied, barely able to conceal his disdain for the young student.

"Yes, sir," the student replied. "The office of the Minister is on the third floor, section two, east. Just follow the butterfly."

The student released a butterfly made from folded parchment. It hovered in front of Amhar for a moment before taking off for one of the nearby staircases. Amhar shuddered. No lifts? he asked himself as he followed the butterfly.

Following the paper butterfly quickly led Amhar to the Office of the Minister. He opened the door and walked into the outer office.

He was surprised and appalled to see so many muggle items in the Minister's office. Once it had been a bastion of old pure blooded traditions, but it seemed this new Minister was having nothing to do with that.

A clerk looked up from her typing.

"Name?" she asked in a bored tone.

"Tell the Minister that Amhar Coeur de Lion is here and wishes to see her immediately." Amhar stated imperiously.

The clerk flipped open a calendar book and scanned it for a moment. "I'm sorry, sir, but the earliest I can get you in to see the Minister is three weeks from this Thursday. If that is suitable, I'll need the reason for the meeting. The Minister is a very busy person."

"B-B-But I'm Amhar Coeur de Lion!" he exclaimed, nearly shouting. His face turned a puce color and he started to clench his fists. He was about to tell off this insufferable cow of a clerk when he felt a hand wrap around his arm. Turning, he eyed the large man with disdain before noting the badge he wore that named him as a Constable, whatever that was.

"I'm sorry, sir, but if you can't control yourself, I'll have to ask you to leave," the man told him firmly.

Amhar stepped back and frowned. He had never been one for any sort of physical activities and burly men made him nervous. "Get your hands off me, oaf! Don't you know who I am? I'm a member of the Wizengamot. I'm Amhar Coeur de Lion and I demand to speak to the Minister!" he shouted angrily, trying to shake off the constable.

The constable frowned, tightened his grip and Amhar suddenly found himself being propelled from the office. The man easily carried him down the stairs and let him loose in the lobby.

"I don't care who you are, mister. The Wizengamot has not been reformed, so your name means nothing to me. I'm letting you go with a warning. If you come back here and disturb the peace again, I'll lock you up in the town jail. Now get out of my sight," the constable said, fingering his wand menacingly.

Amhar flinched. He realized only then that he had not yet replaced his wand and backed away from the constable. Standing outside of the Ministry building a few moments later, he clenched and unclenched his fists in anger. No one treated him like that! He'd see that man fired if it was the last thing he did!

Amhar stormed angrily away from the Ministry building. He paused for a moment in front of Gringotts, but didn't enter. He had been told that his family vaults in London were inaccessible, and his investments in most wizard businesses had been lost when Britain fell. Standing there, he took stock and realized that for all intents and purposes, until he could get to the substantial wealth in his family vaults, he was broke. He couldn't even afford to replace his wand! The Government had given each person in the hospital one hundred galleons and that was all he had to his name.

Struggling to contain his anger at his poor treatment, he trudged back towards the minuscule cottage he had been assigned. He was oblivious to the fact that most people were delighted with the small, two bedroom cottages, and wouldn't have cared had he known.

Cairngorm Mountains, Scotland (Sept 14th)...

Moody watched the stream carefully from cover. He was wearing a cloak of invisibility, hiding behind a tree and he had silenced himself. The note said to be at the location at ten in the morning. Of course, being who he was explained why he'd arrived at six to take up his current position to wait and see what happened.

The large silver-gray werewolf padded silently towards the stream and the area he was supposed to meet Moody. Larger by far than any regular wolf, with front legs twice as long as the rear, the powerful creature sniffed twice and quickly located Moody's hiding place. Remus was sorely tempted to creep up behind him in this form and howl but, knowing Moody, he'd start casting spells. That was something they couldn't allow to happen. Not out here in the open, at least.

Remus changed back into his human form and moved forward, deliberately making enough noise so that Moody would hear him. He stopped at the edge of the small clearing next to the stream, not ten feet from where Moody hid.

"Come on out, Alastor. I know you're hiding over there," Remus called softly.

Moody spun and swore when his peg leg caught on the uneven ground and nearly caused him to fall. "Dammit, Lupin, how did you know I was here?"

Remus smiled knowingly and tapped his nose. "Are you going to come out from under that cloak or am I supposed to sit here talking to nothing?"

"How do I know it's really you, Lupin? You could be polyjuiced!" snarled Moody.

"At the Order Christmas Party in 1979, you got drunk and tried to dance a strip tease for Minerva McGonagall. I do believe she still has a signed pair of your boxers as a souvenir of the occasion," Remus offered smiling.

Moody pulled the invisibility cloak off and grinned. "Come on, then. The cottage isn't far away, and it's safe enough. We can talk there."

Remus followed Moody, noting how remote this area of the Scottish Highlands was. A person could easily get lost in the mountains.

Before long they sat across from each other at a table. Remus glanced around the cottage quickly before turning back to his companion.

"We were surprised to get your letter, Alastor. To be honest, Harry didn't know what to make of it at first."

"Aye, well, I was nearly as surprised when I sent it. Had it not been for Albus, I would have sat out the war here in my hole."

Remus eyed Moody carefully. The mention of Dumbledore put him on guard. "So, how is the old man?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

Moody stood and stumped over to a cabinet and withdrew a bottle and two glasses. "He's as daft as a drunken loon, Remus. Totally lost his cracker and I haven't a clue how it happened or why so few of us saw it."

Remus shook his head sadly. "I can't answer that question, Alastor. The old man lost it a lot earlier than anyone thought. But that's not what we're here to discuss, is it?"

Moody poured two glasses of fire whiskey and held one out to Remus. "Not hardly," he said with a snort.

Remus placed the glass down on the table and leaned forward for a moment. "I'll be frank with you. Harry doesn't trust anyone from the Order anymore. But you seem to hold a unique position in his mind. I think you're one of the few people from the Order that he'd like to trust."

Moody nodded approvingly. "So, where does that put me exactly?"

"In a position to earn his trust. We have need of you, but not over in Ireland. We have need of you right here in Britain."

Moody looked at Remus questioningly. "Oh?"

"We need someone to start organizing here. There are rumors of Aurors hiding out and fighting a guerrilla war. We know of at least two muggle groups we've heard about. What we want to do is organize them. Get them to coordinate, work together. We have the backing of both the Magical and Muggle Ministries on this. We can supply food and material, both muggle and magical, depending on who it's going to.

"Your job would be to contact these groups and convince them to work with you. Teach them to take orders via wireless messages and supply them with what they need. You'll also be used occasionally to help guide teams we send in. Are you interested?"

Moody knocked back another shot of whiskey and nodded. "Aye, Lupin. It's better than sitting here and wondering what's going on in the world."

Remus smiled for the first time since meeting Moody. "Excellent! We'll start by sending you some elves with food and other gear you'll need. They should arrive tomorrow. Is there anything you'd like to request?"

"I wouldn't mind a bottle or two of good stuff," Moody said with a barking laugh. He held up the nearly empty bottle of cheap whiskey and looked at it mournfully.

Haven and Padfoot Manor...

While Remus and Moody talked of important matters. Amhar left the Ministry building and walked around the town. He was dismayed to see what looked like newly opened muggle businesses right next door to magical ones. Seeing Ollivanders gave him a little relief, as did Gringotts. But next door to Ollivanders was a muggle coffee shop offering coffees and muggle newspapers. There was even a muggle radio playing in the store!

Amhar Coeur de Lion was a pure blood and more than a bit of a racist, even if he didn't support the Dark Lord's policies. It made him angry to see that Haven was a comfortable mix of both muggle and magical. It was disgusting, in his opinion. Muggles and Wizards weren't meant to mix this way.

Approaching the street his cottage was on, he noted a large manor house in the distance and stopped.

The house looked huge and old. That meant money, pure blood money, and a lot of it. Amhar didn't hesitate. Many pure blood families fawned at his feet because of his particular blood connections. It was something they envied, something they craved. For years he had sampled the very best of the pure blood community, it's wealth and it's women, all because they were willing to sacrifice their money and daughters for the blood of the Lion Heart. Why, if he played his cards right, he'd be out of that wretched cottage before nightfall!

As he approached the manor house, he saw many house elves working on the lawns, indicating the owner of the manor was magical. More sure of himself now, he walked up to the front door and knocked. A moment later an elf opened the door.

"Yes? Can I helps you?"

"Tell your Master that Amhar Coeur de Lion wishes to speak with him."

Then, the unthinkable happened. The elf shook her head!

"I is sorry, sir, but the Master is busy and cannots be disturbed," the creature said, her voice firm.

The little elf tried to shut the door, then squeaked in fright when Amhar grabbed her and pushed his way into the house.

"I don't think you heard me properly, you wretched little excuse for an elf! I said to tell your master to come now. I don't care if he's sleeping with his mistress or buggering his sheep!" growled Amhar. He raised one hand to strike the creature for her impertinence, but a vice like grip caught his arm by the wrist and held fast.

"You do not want to do that," said a voice from behind. "Sissy, you are excused. Go help Winky in the master bedroom."

The little elf vanished with a pop.

When his wrist was released a second later, he whirled to face a young man, dressed in muggle pants and a t-shirt that read, "Back off! You're standing in my aura."

Amhar stepped back from the youth and looked at him with disdain. He ignored the glow from the youth's eyes and the waves of magic flowing from him. "You, boy! Go get the Master of the manor," he ordered.

Harry looked at him for a moment, ignoring his order. "I don't know who you are, nor do I really care, but if I catch you ever attempting to strike an elf again, you'll wish you hadn't."

"You can't threaten me, boy. Now, do as you've been told. Get your father, or whomever holds Lordship over this manor, and tell him that I wish to speak with him immediately," Amhar blustered.

Harry's eyes flared and his expression hardened at the man's choice of words. "I am the Lord of this manor," he said, his voice quiet, but hard.

Amhar blinked in surprise. This? This child is the Lord of the Manor? Perhaps his family was lost when Britain fell. He stepped back and put on his best charming smile.

"My apologies, my lord, I am Amhar Coeur de Lion, a member of the Wizengamot, at your service," he said, then paused, waiting for the young man to make the connection to his name.

Harry stood, frowning. The man had seriously angered him and he had been about to throw him out when he suddenly announced himself as though he were the son of Merlin.

Amhar started to fidget. This hadn't happened before. His name was so well known that any member of polite society would have recognized it immediately.

"Harry? What's the problem?"

Both men turned to see Hermione coming down the stairs. She was limping slightly. It was only her third day of hand to hand combat training and Harry had been upstairs helping her with her bruises when Dobby told them about the situation down in the grand foyer.

Harry placed a hand on the banister and looked up at her. She was dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, making it easier for him to apply the healing salve she needed.

"It's nothing, love. I'll be with you shortly," he told her with a tight smile.

Amhar bowed before Hermione. "You must be the Lady of the Manor?" he asked.

Hermione nodded in confusion, "Yes, I'm Hermione Potter."

Amhar's eyes widened in shock. "Potter? This is the Potter residence?"

"Potter-Black, actually," Harry replied in an icy tone.

Amhar addressed Hermione. "From which family are you from, my Lady? You don't seem to resemble any of the great families."

Harry stiffened and stepped forward, his hair fell back from his forehead, revealing his scar. "My wife is muggle born, not that it's any of your business, sir. Now I would ask you to leave before I eject you myself."

"You're Harry Potter?" Amhar asked, fearfully. At the young man's nodded, he blanched. "You destroyed the Ministry, killing hundreds of pure bloods!"

"No, I destroyed the Ministry building, killing hundreds of Death Eaters. That they were pure bloods was merely bad luck on their part," Harry countered dryly.

"It's people like you who caused You-Know-Who to ruin our world!" Amhar stated angrily.

"It's cowards such as you who allowed Voldemort take over in the first place. Now I have to clean up your mess," Harry said flatly. "Now, leave my house."

Amhar gasped and paled when the Dark Lord was named. Only then did he really look at the young man standing before him. The air around Potter shimmered and roiled with magic and his eyes glowed a bright, eerie green. He looked to be unarmed, but Amhar knew he could have a wand concealed nearly anywhere nearby. He backed away, frightened, and stumbled to the door. Once outside, the door closed behind him with no one touching it.

Hermione was shocked by the anger she felt from her husband. It was nothing like the rage he'd felt over the ransom note, but she could tell he was deeply angry and it was mostly because of the strange man. She widened her bond and sent him a gentle, mental caress. He shuddered and visibly made the effort to calm down.

"Sissy?" he called finally.

A small female elf appeared a moment later. "Yous call Sissy, Master Harry, Sir?"

"Yes, Sissy. In the future, if someone puts you in that situation again, you are to come to me or Mistress Hermione right away to report it. For now, however, I want you to go speak to the Pappy. Tell him that if that man hits an elf, any elf, he is to be denied all elf services and I am to be told about it immediately. Do you understand, Sissy?"

Sissy nodded and vanished.

Ballincollig, County Cork, Ireland…

Dumbledore grumbled and used his wand to re-wrap the dressing on his arm. It had been over a week since Alastor Moody had kicked him out of the safe house in Scotland and now he was back in Cork, in the same boarding house he had used a few weeks earlier.

To say he was annoyed was an understatement. He'd gone through all the potions that Alastor had given in the first few days. He'd tried toughing it out, but it just wasn't possible. Pain numbing charms only lasted for a short while, and there was little he could do without a steady supply of potions.

When he ran out of pain relieving potions four days ago, he ran out of options. He needed the potions and more, but he knew he was a wanted man in Ireland, and probably on the continent as well by now. Using a glamour, he'd purchased a reusable portkey to travel to Haiti. He chose that location because he didn't want to risk going to a country where the Ministry might be looking for him. The Haitian Ministry was something of a joke in the Wizarding community.

He had gone over to Haiti, spent several hours under the dubious care of a witch doctor who had been surprisingly effective in mixing muggle medicine and magic. He was given a cream to put on his arm, and now had an ample supply of pain relief potions. He also came away with a bright purple eye patch, which he thought to be quite dashing.

Now he sat in his little room and pondered the future. Alastor Moody will make sure all my old contacts with the Order know about my behavior, he thought angrily. I'm being betrayed at every turn! First Lupin, then Potter and Tonks...

He'd need help to accomplish his goal, but it wasn't going to come from the order as he'd originally hoped. He had several different Order accounts he could tap into, all under aliases so his identity would remain safe. With those accounts, he had nearly two hundred thousand galleons. Surely that would be enough to buy the services of some wizards and their wands.

Yes, I will hire some mercenaries, perhaps from Romania, he thought.

"Then we'll see how Mr. Harry Potter likes being on the receiving end of my employees," Dumbledore said aloud with a bit of a giggle. He ignored the nervous twitch he saw in the mirror, as well as the occasional giggle that slipped out. He'd become well versed in ignoring that which carried little relevance to him. What others might see as impending madness, Dumbledore merely saw as inconvenient.

Soon Harry, soon I will come for you.

Padfoot Manor...

Harry rolled over in bed and reached out with a hand, only to find empty space. He lifted his head and looked around, but the bedroom was empty.

"Hermione?" he sent. He knew she was close by.

"I'm in your study, love."

"Couldn't sleep?"

"We both seemed restless, so I figured I'd take a look at your equations again."

Harry sighed and sat up. "Stay there, I'll come in and join you," he sent to her.

"That's not really necessary."

"Actually, it is. I woke up because you weren't in bed. If nothing else, we'll have a cup of tea and talk Arithmancy and Runes. Merlin knows that should put us to sleep."

"Prat! I like Arithmancy and Runes."

She grinned to herself when she felt his amusement over the bond. He was teasing her. She knew he was proud of her intellect but sensitive about it. His gentle teasing reminded her that not all knowledge came from a book.

She glanced up and smiled when he padded in barefoot and wearing only his boxers. She knew that he was often aroused just by the sight of her naked, or nearly so. She had to admit he did the same to her. He turned to sit next to her and she frowned, seeing the two dark red circles on his back. New scars provided by the bullets shot by Dudley. She always cringed a little when she saw them and felt a pang of guilt over them.

"They'll fade in time," he said in a hard tone, then he smiled an apology at her. "Sorry, you were thinking very loudly and not blocking."

"You have a handsome body, scars and all," she said softly, then she widened her bond enough to let him taste a little of the desire she felt as her eyes roamed his body.

Harry smiled. During their experiments when the bond was new, they'd found it extremely difficult to send an emotion they weren't truly feeling. Unlike thoughts and conversations, emotions were too difficult to fake over the bond.

Harry reached up with a hand and caressed her cheek for a moment, then he turned serious again. "So, have you made any headway?" he asked, then nudged her towards his notes.

She glanced back at the book for a moment, then turned back to him. "Some, actually. It took me a while to figure out exactly what you were doing, but I think I've managed it. Each portal is given a number, a unique way of identifying that particular portal. So if I wanted to travel from my portal, which is numbered eighty seven, to your portal, which is numbered forty three, you'd tune in the number on the pedestal and away you'd go."

"Right, but..."

"Hang on a moment, Harry. I see your objection. All of your portals have been on a tens boundary, ten, twenty, thirty, forty and so on."

"Right."

"And you did that because the Celtic runes for numbers not ending with zero can be extremely cumbersome, correct?"

Harry nodded mutely. He still wasn't sure where she was going with this.

"The pedestals use three different rune sets, each in their own compartment. Nordic, or viking runes, which tune in the portal, Greek runes, which provide power to the pedestal and to the portal, and finally Welsh runes, which do a variety of tasks, such as controlling the timing and commanding the portal frame to open and close."

Harry nodded. He knew all this and had been over it time and again with Eocho.

"I think the problem is in the pedestal. Your use of viking runes allows you a greater degree of control in tuning than your portal can handle. For example, through no fault of the operator, you can tune in the pedestal to open portal twenty point two. And because you are slightly off tune, living matter cannot survive the trip. The pedestal is too precise for the portal frames."

Harry sat quietly for a moment, soaking in what she had told him. "It makes sense," he said finally. "The obvious solution is to use the same rune sets for tuning, but these aren't the final versions I had wanted to use anyway."

"Oh? Why not?"

"Because they're numbers, like muggle phone numbers. The Wizarding communities would balk at pure numbers. I was hoping to use something like what they use for the floo network. You know, like 'Diagon Alley' or 'The Burrow' as a destination."

Hermione chewed on her lower lip for a long time. Harry's idea made more sense, but it complicated matters tremendously. They now had an idea of what was wrong, but she wasn't sure of what do to about it.

She was about to tell him so when their bond shifted and she felt the oddest sensation. For a brief moment, it seemed almost as if his thought process had sped up tremendously. When the feeling subsided, he looked at her with a lopsided grin.

"What was that, Harry?"

"What was what?" he asked back, perplexed by her question.

"The bond seemed to widen and it was almost as if you were thinking so fast I couldn't make anything out of it."

His eyebrows rose and he chuckled. "It finally happened, eh? Now you know how you make me feel."

"What?"

"Hermione, for years we've teased you about being the smartest witch of our age and you've hated it. I know you have. Even now I can feel your annoyance building. What you don't realize is that for all the teasing, you are probably the smartest witch in the age. When we first bonded, I'd notice times when your thinking seemed to speed up so much I couldn't tell what you were thinking about. It happens a lot with you. I notice it several times a day.

"I can memorize whole books, thanks to my Matura, but I have to really work at it to take things to another level. You read a book and start immediately moving beyond that point. I can't do that. I have to bring up a picture of a page in my mind and consider what it says carefully, then apply it. Rarely can I can see beyond that point, but I'm no genius like you are. What you felt from me was just me thinking of a way to fix the portal, since you found out what the problem is. Building things and making them work are fun and seem to come easily to me. It inspires me to come up with new ideas."

She frowned at him. She hated when he put himself down, but she had to admit his analysis was probably spot on. She just never realized that she was doing the same thing. "You're not dumb, Harry. Just because you..."

He waved her to silence. "Perhaps, love, but I sincerely hope our kids get your intelligence. I'll settle for them getting my good looks," he said, trying to appear arrogant, but empty-headed.

Hermione growled and lunged at him, fully intending to torture him mercilessly. She knew all of his tickle spots and planned on making use of them. Halfway through her lunge, a painful hitch in her side distracted her and she landed on top of him, clutching at her ribs in pain.

Harry wrapped his arms around her carefully. "Did we missed a rib or two?"

She nodded against his chest, still tense and afraid to move.

"I know this training is necessary, Harry, but..."

"No buts about it, Hermione. If you and the rest of the Brotherhood are going to stand by my side when I face Voldemort, I need to know you can take care of yourselves. I need to know you'll be capable of fighting, with and without a wand."

She nodded against his chest, disliking, but understanding the truth of his words. She and the others had complained when Harry had assigned them to the boat for the Azkaban attack, so he had enrolled them all into the program that turned Aurors into soldiers. He hadn't told them that they would be training using a time turner to stuff eight hours into a four hour period, or that the trainers were brutal, sadistic people who enjoyed their jobs way to much to be healthy. Although, to be honest, she was sure that, outside of his classes, Gunny Stonefist was probably a very nice man. But did he really have to yell so much?

Hermione had never been a very physically active person and the training was intensely physical. She'd come home every day and Harry would spend an hour just helping her get over her aches and pains. Most nights she'd collapse, exhausted, into bed. It made her feel guilty because she was simply too tired to do any more than be held by her husband.

For all of her guilt, however, Harry's reaction to her training seemed to make it much worse. He was supportive and considerate, preparing her baths and giving massages. His understanding and total lack of complaint only made her feel even more neglectful.

Harry cast a pain numbing charm on her sore ribs. She smiled tentatively up at him and he helped her to her feet.

"I've got some new salve Danni sent over. She thinks it will help with the bruises and aches. Let's get you into the bedroom and we'll see if we can fix that up for you."

She looked him, noting the loving concern in his eyes, and her composure cracked. Her lower lip trembled and her eyes filled with tears.

"How can you put up with me?" she sent him, along with a wave of emotions.

He reeled under the onslaught and turned to her, surprised by her outburst.

"I come home exhausted and in pain and all you do is help me. We're newlyweds! Doesn't it bother you that we've only made love twice since the beginning of the month? And even then, it was over quick!"

Harry sat back down on the chair, feeling as though he'd been struck, and stared up at her for a moment. Then he scowled. "Hermione, sit down," he said commandingly and gestured towards a nearby chair.

She sat gingerly and looked at him, afraid that he would now tell her how disappointed he was with her, how angry.

He leaned forward and wiped his face tiredly with one hand. "Hermione... I don't... No that isn't... I want... No... Oh, bloody hell!"

She blinked in surprise at his words, then he caught her gaze. His eyes were piercing in their intensity. He pinned her to her seat with his gaze and gently entered her mind using legilimency. Her vision grayed out.

"This is what I felt before you came into my life."

His words seemed to echo in her mind just before he sent her a gestalt of his loneliness. It was a soul tearing feeling and she shuddered back from it, and from him. His words burned into her mind. Tears flowed freely and she wrapped her arms around herself, as if warding off a blow. Even his memory made her ache for him.

"And this is what I feel now."

Another feeling flowed into her and she gasped as her body filled with a sense of joy and wonder. Her body shook at the magnitude of his feelings. He was no longer alone and he rejoiced. She felt a deep and abiding sense of peace, a barely controlled passion for her and an overwhelming desire to do anything to make her happy. Again his words seemed to bounce and echo through her consciousness. The feelings eroded her previous impression of loneliness until only a faint echo of it remained.

Just as suddenly as it had started, it was gone and she stared at him, shocked. He sat, watching her come out of the vision.

"I don't complain, Hermione, because there is no reason to complain. What you're doing, you're doing for us. So that, five years from now, there will still be an 'us'. You're learning to fight and I know it hurts. I know it makes wish you hadn't agreed to it. But when the training is done, you'll be thankful for what you learned, especially when you're actually called upon to use that training. You'll also have learned that a little exercise each day is a good thing...

He paused for a moment, then grinned. "How will you keep up with our kids if you're not in shape, love?" he asked smugly.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. You're telling me I have to give birth to them and chase them down when they get older? Think again, Mr. Potter. I birth 'em, you chase 'em!" she exclaimed, her laughter pouring over the bond and making him snicker.

The Town of Haven (Sept 15th)...

Amhar walked slowly towards the town hall to once again check the bulletin board where they posted job openings. Even he had to admit that he had to do something with himself. So far, all of the openings were beneath his station. They never seemed to post jobs looking for directors or managers. For the thousandth time since he had been released, he cursed his own foolishness for not becoming a Solicitor, like his father.

"Amhar?" said a vaguely familiar voice.

He stopped and turned. He recognized the man walking towards him, but couldn't place him.

"Councilor Coeur de Lion? I thought it was you! What a fortunate meeting," the fellow said.

Amhar frowned for a moment, then it clicked for him. "Ah, Councilor Gripse. I was unaware that you were living in this... place," he said, unable to keep the disdain for Haven out of his voice.

"Oh, yes. I was one of those rescued from Azkaban, like yourself," replied Gripse.

Amhar sniffed and waved a hand dismissively, then a thought occurred to him. "Tell me, Councilor, did they rescue many Wizengamot members from Azkaban?"

Gripse suddenly looked around warily. "Some, Councilor, but the Supreme Mugwump is not in Haven. From what I understand, he has been declared a wanted criminal by the Irish Government, as well as our own."

"Our own," Amhar spat in disgust. "We have a Minister who wasn't elected, and no governing body. And they are treated as if they are the legal Government. Even the muggles recognize them!" He turned on Gripes then, spewing forth his rage and sense of outrage. "You were always the mouthpiece for our muggle loving Mugwump and look at what it got him! Hunted by his own government. What remains of the Wizengamot is scratching in the dirt to make a living. I saw one of our esteemed members tending bar the other night! It's outrageous and undignified!"

Gripse pulled Amhar away from the crowded entrance of the town hall. His diatribe was attracting too much attention. They settled in front of a fountain with a statue of what was supposed to be Merlin. Amhar frowned and stared at the statue for a moment. He had seen that face before, but where?

"Councilor," Gripse began, "you need to be wary with your words. More prudence and less outrage, I'd suggest."

Amhar's eyes narrowed and he was about to dress down his comrade when he spotted several town constables entering the square.

"Perhaps you are right, Councilor Gripse. What would you suggest we do?" he asked, solicitously.

Stanley Gripse nodded in understanding. He, too, had spotted the constables entering the town square. "What I think we need to do is find all of the other Councilors who might have been rescued. If there is enough of us, the government will have no choice but to reform the Wizengamot."

Amhar sat on the edge of the fountain and considered Gripse's words. Reforming the Wizengamot would be the first step in making sure the Government adopted a more pro pure-blood policy. Then they could deal with things like the Muggle Mayor, or that half blood, Potter.

"Yes, your advice is quite good, Councilor Gripse. Let us search out and organize our fellow Councilors," Amhar said quietly.

Aviemore, Scotland (Sept 16th)...

Captain Michael McHardy checked the perimeter one last time before settling down for the night. His troop, what was left of it, was a ragtag mix of units and barely thirty men strong. Originally, he had led a company of the Blackwatch, third battalion of the Royal Regiment of Scotland, a proud unit with a proud history that spanned nearly three hundred years. What he had left was pitiful. Ten men from his original outfit and nineteen others from various other units and home guard.

They did what they could, but it wasn't nearly enough. Their supply situation had moved from poor to critical and, as much as he hated to do it, he had taken to raiding civilian stores for food and material. They had one beat up short wave radio and no transmitter, hence no contact with the outside world. Arms and ammunition were in short supply and they had no medicines at all. Not that it mattered, they had no one trained to use them.

McHardy pulled his filthy blanket up around his chin and tried to sleep. There were elements of this war he wasn't prepared to deal with. It was bad enough that this had turned into a civil war, but supporting the conquering army was a force of civilians with abilities that made no sense to him. And that troubled him.

"Make no sudden moves, Laddy," said a voice that pierced the darkness.

McHardy slowly pulled the blanket away and looked at the strange man who crouched down next to him. He held a stick, like those people supporting the army. McHardy felt his stomach lurch. They'd been caught!

"No, lad, you've not been caught," said the strange man. "Or rather, you've been caught by the right side. Now, sit up slowly and we'll talk for a bit."

McHardy sat up and glanced around to see that his perimeter guards were still walking around, ignoring his predicament.

Alastor Moody chuckled at the consternation the young officer was feeling.

"They won't notice us, lad, but we have other, more important matters to talk about. You're the first unit command I've approached and you won't be the last. We're organizing, my boy, and we're going to fight back. You're not alone, not by a long shot..."

Moody pulled out a bag and started to pull items out of it - far more items than the bag could possibly hold. McHardy stared in shock when Moody casually handed him a satellite radio. He continued to pull food and clothing out of the small bag until there was a large pile laying on ground next to him.

"Look, I don't have a lot of time for explanations. Let's just say that the other side has people with special abilities helping them, and now your side has people with the same abilities. I will contact you every three days, or send you a message. If I send you a message, expect it to be signed Mad-Eye. If it isn't, don't trust it. Bug out and I'll find you again. You're to use the radio twice a day, at five hundred hours and seventeen hundred hours. Tell them what you need, they'll send it to me and I'll get it to you."

Moody pulled out a small flask and peered at McHardy carefully before giving it to him. "Here. This will wake up anyone who's exhausted, no matter how tired a person is. Just a sip for a dose. Use it sparingly. When you need more, I'll see if I can get it to you. In the meantime, make a list of what you need. Your people want you to cut off the A9 just before the A9/A95 intersection, make it unusable. Figure out what you need for the job and we'll get it to you. I'm also supposed to tell you that on some jobs, you'll have something they called air support."

Moody shrugged his shoulders and looked at the dumbfounded McHardy, waiting. When the muggle commander finally began to nod vigorously, he reached out and squeezed his shoulder. "Good lad. Keep a stiff upper. I'll be back in three days."

Moody released McHardy, stood and walked calmly out of the camp, passing a guard who never saw him.

McHardy shook his head, then checked his watch. Another three hours and he'd be able to call in on the radio. Another three hours and they'd no longer be alone! He caressed the precious radio and wept silent tears. They had seen beyond the edge of sanity and now were being pulled back.

"Sergeant! Sergeant!" McHardy called loudly.

A moment later a man dropped down to his haunches beside the Captain's bed, then paused when he saw the large pile in the darkness. "Sir?"

"Get two men and tell them to start going through this material, Murphy. We have food and clothing to distribute, and help is on the way," McHardy said softly.

Murphy spotted the precious radio the Captain held in his hands like a newborn babe and his eyes widened. Then he grinned wildly and gave his captain a textbook salute. "Sir!"

Three hours later, the Captain aimed the portable antenna at a spot just above the horizon and waited until he heard a warbling tone. Blackwatch, third battalion of the Royal Regiment of Scotland was back in business and under the command of his Majesty's government. Even more importantly, the men on the ground knew it. Plans were already being made to augment the unit via airdrop, hopefully bringing it up to at least one hundred strong.

The newly promoted Colonel McHardy slowly took apart the radio, shaking his head. It had been an interesting conversation. His was the first unit to report in, and would be the lead unit in consolidating all of the units that remained loyal to the government in exile.

McHardy stood. He felt like a new day was approaching and he was full of energy. Army command had given him the coordinates of a base that had a large underground component. The base had been built for World War II and had been unused for years, so there was a good chance they'd be able to use the underground section as a base of operations.

He looked around, watching his men enjoy a their first hot meal in a week. He'd wait until they were done before breaking camp and heading towards their objective. They needed the break.

Padfoot Manor (Sept 17th)...

This morning's briefing was different. Caleb arrived with a second man following him. The man was a squib, and a representative of His Majesties' Government in Exile. Amelia followed the two men in, with Remus behind her.

Harry stood and looked at the newcomer Caleb had brought.

"My lord, may I present Michell Anderson? A former group captain in the RAF, he is now our permanent liaison between our Ministry and the British Government in Exile," Caleb said.

Harry nodded and extended his hand towards the stranger. "Welcome, Captain. I trust you are being well taken care of?"

The man took Harry's hand, gripping it firmly in his own. There was no attempt to squeeze, as is often the case when two men shake hands. It was just a firm grip.

"Yes, my Lord. I have been well briefed by Deputy Minister Newman and my accommodations are most comfortable," Anderson replied, then he released Harry's hand and glanced over at Hermione admiringly.

"Ah, my wife, Hermione Potter," Harry said, introducing the two of them.

Anderson bowed slightly and took Hermione's hand in his, bending over to kiss it lightly before releasing her. With the introductions complete, everyone sat.

"Caleb, why don't you start us off today?" Harry suggested.

Caleb nodded to Anderson. "With respect, my lord, I think it would be best if Captain Anderson delivered this briefing. After all, this is one of the reasons he's come to Haven."

Harry turned to look at Anderson. "By all means, proceed Captain."

Anderson looked around briefly until he spotted the large map of Britain on the wall. "May I?" he asked. Harry nodded and Anderson walked over to the map.

"Conditions in Britain are deteriorating rapidly. Lack of food, fuel oil and petrol are prevalent. Though some parts of the country are still under power, large portions have not had electricity since mid-April and the bombing. There are rumors of typhus in some of the camps and satellite imagery is picking up evidence of mass graves.

"Unfortunately, there is little that can be done to help our people. The controlled elements of the British Army hold vast areas of the country and maintain an iron grip on what resources they need, even as the civilian populations suffer. Of course, there was considerable confusion on our side. We had no contact with anyone on the ground until recently. We were forced to rely on what ever help other governments were willing to provide.

"Now that situation is starting to change, thank God. With the help of your people on the ground, we have made contact with elements of the Blackwatch, the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders as well as others. Right now we have them performing some small acts of sabotage and reconnaissance. Surviving units in the field are being consolidated into a single unit that will concentrate on making our return easier...

Harry held up a hand, stopping Anderson. Then he turned to Remus. "Mad-Eye's doing?"

Remus nodded, his grin almost feral.

"How is he managing without giving away his location?" Harry asked.

"Q Branch came up with an amulet that masks his signature and makes him look like an elf," Remus said.

Harry shook his head in admiration, then turned back to Anderson. "My apologies, Captain. Please continue with your brief."

"Yes, my lord.

"On the international front, we've been extremely fortunate. The United States is willing to commit its entire military strength behind an effort to retake Britain, assuming that certain conditions are met first. Canada and Australia are also offering support, but they aren't imposing any conditions. Now, as to our European allies..."

"Excuse me," Harry said, interrupting Anderson again.

"Yes, sir?"

"What condition are the Yanks imposing?"

"The Americans do not want their military fighting wizards, sir, and they clearly recognize that wizards and muggle cannot fight together and still maintain the secrecy of the Wizarding world," Anderson said in a soft voice. This was a major sticking point with the Americans, and he knew exactly what it meant to those in Haven.

Harry sat back on his chair, rubbing his chin absently. "So, it all boils down to us first," he murmured, then glanced over to Caleb.

"Yes, sir. But I think we both knew it would have to happen that way."

"And our current estimate on Voldemort's forces?"

"He has between two and three thousand Death Eaters," Caleb replied.

"And ours?"

"We have close to nine hundred ready, with six hundred more in training. Another two thousand have been offered and we've been accepting them in small lots. The American Department of Magic has offered to set up a training camp, as has the Canadian Ministry. To be honest, I was planning on recommending we accept their offers. We haven't the room here for so many people."

Harry ran a hand through his hair. "Merlin! How is this being paid for?"

"We're covering it, Harry," Amelia said. "Gringotts has guaranteed loans and we're making some promises to reduce import duties on certain products, as well as easing off some restrictions."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. He had been worried that he was somehow supposed to pay for all of this.

"Relax, love. That won't happen. Governments do not want to deal directly with individuals. They're more comfortable dealing with other governments." Hermione sent him.

Harry nodded to himself and reached out to touch Hermione's hand.

"So, we're talking about Aurors taking out the wizards before the muggles can move in to clean out the controlled troops. But if we remove the element of control, won't the British army just fold up in confusion?" asked Hermione.

Caleb shook his head. "We thought about that, my lady, but we have evidence to suggest that most of the existing army is no longer being controlled, but is still going along with it."

While Hermione dealt with her shock, Harry nodded and turned to Caleb.

"Doesn't this suggest that we need to start hitting at targets to cut into his wizard force?" he asked the Deputy Minister of Defense. This had been a sticking point between the two of them.

"It does, Harry, but I still think we need to hit those camps and pull those people out of there," Caleb countered.

"It's not my place to say, but can't the two ideas be combined somehow?" asked Hermione.

Harry and Caleb glanced at each other, each considering the idea from a different aspect.

"It might be doable. If we can empty the camp and then set a trap to catch reinforcing units?" Harry suggested.

Caleb's eyes glinted with the prospect of saving more people and hurting Voldemort badly. "I think we need to look into this later, Harry. If we do this, it's only going to work once."

Harry turned back Anderson and smiled. "Good brief, Captain. I apologize for cutting you short this morning. What else do we have?"

As Anderson sat back down, Amelia sighed.

"Well, Caleb stole a little of my thunder by talking about the Americans and Canadians and their training camps, but we're looking into getting that rolling within the next month or so," she told Harry.

"One more thing. I have been approached by several members of the Wizengamot who have pointed out to me that even under the official war powers act, I have neither the authority nor the right to dissolve that body. Of the twenty eight members of that body who were rescued, some twenty four have been released from the hospital and, while not enough to achieve a quorum, they are enough to force me to reopen the Wizengamot.

"I've been putting them off, telling them that I didn't have a place for them to meet, but I can't keep it up for much longer."

"Exactly what can a Wizengamot of that size do, anyway?" Harry asked.

Amelia and Hermione exchanged a look. "They can hold trials, start investigations and tie our people up for weeks giving testimonies," Amelia answered. "Fortunately, we have a number of the rescued members who are squarely on our side, a large block of neutrals and others."

"Yes," Harry said musingly. "I think we met one of those 'others' not too long ago."

Amelia nodded knowingly, Amhar Coeur de Lion visited the Ministry building daily and was quickly becoming a major nuisance. He had teamed up with several other Wizengamot members who had nothing better to do but sit around and complain and they were doing just that - loudly, in her Ministry building.

Harry leaned back on his chair and steepled his fingers. "Would we really have that much of a problem if we allowed them to reform?"

Amelia started to say something but noticed Hermione all but bouncing in her chair. She smothered a grin and motioned for the younger woman to explain.

"Harry, in it's current configuration, the Wizengamot might be a crippled body, but it can still cause significant disruptions in what we're doing. Realistically, the Wizengamot is patterned after the Muggle Parliament, but it has never receive crown approval. I suppose we could allow them to reform and, if things got too unwieldy, we could appeal to the crown to dissolve the body."

Harry watched Hermione as she spoke and thought about what she was saying. It didn't sound that bad, but it left him feeling uneasy, nevertheless. His single experience with the Wizengamot still left a foul taste in his mouth.

"There are several Wizengamot members who I would like to introduce you to. Most of them are solidly on our side and have been looking for ways they can help with our efforts. With your permission, I'd like to bring them by in a couple days? Perhaps on the thirtieth?" Amelia asked.

Hermione checked Harry's appointment book and nodded to him.

"Sounds alright, Amelia. Bring them round for dinner. We'll eat, then talk about what they can do for us. In the meantime, let's get some elves building a meeting place for the Wizengamot. I don't think we can hold them off with promises much longer."

Amelia nodded, then looked hesitant about her next topic.

"What is it?" Harry asked, seeing her expression. She looked decidedly uncomfortable. Whatever she was about to say, it couldn't be good.

"Harry, I know how hard you've been working and I know exactly what your role is in this war. But it's time for you to do more."

"More?" he asked, echoing her comment and looking at her stupidly.

Amelia straightened on her chair. "Yes. You have accepted so much responsibility in this war and yet you have tried to remain what you've always been - a private citizen. That can't last much longer. For one thing, you're starting to undercut my authority as Minister," she said quietly.

Harry was about to jump from his chair in protest, but Hermione stopped him.

"No, love, hear her out. Her position is a valid one." she sent him.

"I don't mean that you're doing it deliberately, Harry. But you are a very famous individual who just accidentally got nearly the entire Mid-East nations to come in on our side. Brogan Mallory, the Irish Minister, is more interested in talking to you than he is in talking to me. Both the American and Canadian Ministers have expressed their desire to meet with you to discuss war issues. Even His Majesty has inquired to see if you might be available at some future time for a private audience."

Harry's expression was one of horror. This was the very last thing he wanted or needed in his life. When Remus began to chuckle, Harry shot him a death glare and grew frustrated by the fact that the old wolf didn't have the decency to cock up his toes and die on the spot. Finally, he turned to Hermione.

"Well?"

"Hear her out, my heart, I don't think it's as bad as you think."

"What would you suggest, Amelia?" he asked.

"Arthur and I have spoken about this in considerable length in recent weeks. We feel that an official posting is the only solution..."

Harry tensed, waiting for the hammer to drop on his head.

"Oh, honestly, Harry. She's not going to kill you. Relax."

"... and since all the Deputy Minister posts are currently filled, we felt that an Ambassador-ship would be the next most appropriate position. There have been several Ambassadors-at-Large in our history, and those posts were usually filled by the most extraordinary people," Amelia finished quietly, her eyes shining with both amusement and affection.

Harry stared at the Minister dumbly. He knew his mouth hung open, but could do nothing at the moment to fix it, as his mind was too busy shuddering back from the jaws of the trap Amelia had so carefully laid out.

He finally shook his head, trying to clear it. "What?" he croaked in disbelief.

Authors Notes:

Dear Alyx.... no, just kidding.

Yep, you guessed it, this is the part of the file where we respond on people for leaving us nasty reviews and beg for donations of donuts or pizza. No anchovies please.

Yes the Goblins have come to dinner and may return again in the not too distant future. Boiled Dubog anyone?

Goblin support? Only if there is a way of lining their pockets, but as you can see, we sorta have that well in hand.

Aengus... yes we will.

Lurk, what can we say. Draco married Luna, that makes him slightly off. Having a private bathroom isn't unusual for executives by the way.

James, wipe up your drool please, you're clogging my keyboard.

That's it. I've had so many comments about our Christian authors note that I'm turning Hermione into a Moony and I'm taking up shintoism. I've been unable to convince Alyx to join the first church of Bob, where she worships... Me... so I'm going to be a druid, reformed... I get to worship bushes.

Olliver will reappear occasionally. He is not a mainline character and will only show up on occasion. But he'll be back.

Several have asked about our updateless list, but it seems that people weren't taking the list seriously enough. You all are supposed to go read those stories, then send annoying emails to the authors whining about when are they going to update again. Get it now? But seriously, the list will be back. I didn't want to make it a regular thing or I'd run out of stories to complain about.

Alyx and I both humbly apologize for producing three dimensional characters instead of the usual two dimension fanfare Scott. I hope you'll forgive us for giving you believable characters, we'll try to do better next time.

AK, That is Abraxan's style. Not necessarily ours. While we've had Harry hurt on numerous occasions, most of the time it's been stuff easy to fix. His only lasting injury, came early on in Sunset and I do not anticipate him having another extended hospital stay anytime soon. There is simply too much to do for him to be lying about in bed. And as far as the flaming author's notes go... we reserve the right to flame, sear, deep fry, bake, boil and broil.

Deborahsu, tell your husband he's wrong. The ship shouldn't matter. What should matter is a decent story that is believable within the framework of that universe.

Moody will be recurring, but don't expect him in Haven anytime soon. We have other plans for him.

Schlager_5321, the purpose of the stones will become more clear soon. We are starting to see more rune based magic starting with this chapter.

Robert, you are reading too much into it. But then, you're a Bob, so I will let you. We Bobs are a specially gifted lot eh?

Back to:: Harry Potter » Sunrise Over Britain

Sunrise Over Britain
Chapter 15 - Dinner Guests and Mad-Eye Madness

By Bobmin

Sunrise Over Britain Chapter 15 - Dinner Guests and Mad-Eye Madness

By Bobmin

Sunrise Over Britain
Chapter 15 - Dinner Guests and Mad-Eye Madness