Sunrise Over Britain :: Chapter 22 - Pregnancy, Snorkacks and Luna rocks

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Standard Disclaimer:

Amhar Coeur de Lion walked onto the stage with pride. Dumbledore was dead and therefore no longer useful for the disclaimers. Snape was on strike and we had killed off Ron Weasley.

He blinked and spotted the two beautiful women wearing string bikinis sitting in the large hot tub. Both women beckoned to him and one seductively peeled off her bikini top revealing an impressive, but perky set of amazing tatas. They had to be at least a D cup!

Amhar drooled and peeled out of his robe revealing an amazing speedo with the British Union Jack emblem imprinted on the bum. He started to walk towards the hot tub when Bob intercepted him. Bob handed him a Microphone and a slip of paper.

Amhar read the slip and scowled. "This is beneath my dignity! Don't you know who I am? I am Amhar Coeur de Lion, I am related to royalty!"

Bob whispered something in Amhar's ear and the man paled and started to tremble.

"Fine, I'll do it!" he snapped before turning towards the audience.

"The authors of this fiction deny any claims of ownership to Harry Potter, and the Harry Potter Universe. All characters from the Harry Potter universe are the property of JK Rowling. The only thing these authors lay claim to are the technicolor penguins," Amhar said.

Bob smiled at the man and backed away, granting him access to the hot tub.

Amhar slid joyfully into the water and smiled at the two women who immediately morphed into Crocodiles. Amhar screamed and the water turned red with blood.

"Reverse Boggart Crocs," whispered Bob to Alyx. "They turn into what you want the most before they eat you."

Alyx stared at the hot tub and paled seeing a white arm try to reach for the edge before being pulled back.

"You're twisted, you know that, don't you? Why did I marry you? And listen buster, I know from experience a D cup is anything but perky! The only perky D cup is a fake D cup. And just what is it with you men and your obsession with breasts? Do you see us girls obsessing over testicles? Do you?"

Bob looked up from staring at Alyx's chest. "Umm no?"

Alyx threw up her hands and stalked off stage muttering vile curses at her husband.

Harry looked confused by the whole matter. He turned to Hermione who was only a generous C cup and still perky. "Why don't you girls wonder about testicles? It would only be fair."

Hermione frowned. "Maybe if you shave them first Harry. Now let's get on with the story," she replied.

Sunrise over Britain
Chapter 22

Naumburg Bandshell, Central Park South, New York City (Jan 1st), 7am Eastern...

Prime Minister Tony Blair stepped from the armored limousine and waved. Despite their hardened reputation, the people of New York City were not as callous as they were portrayed by the media. The mayor of New York had graciously organized a telethon in support of Britain and people braved the bitterly cold temperatures to offer what support they could.

Americans were behind the President in his belief that America could not allow Britain to suffer much longer. The media paraded experts and military pundits across the nation's television screens explaining the process and the problems involved.

One thing was known. The American military was still gearing up to take an active role. Few knew that behind the scenes the government had already stated that they, along with other allied nations, would be prepared to step in once the Wizarding problem had been resolved. No nation wanted to mix muggle armies with those capable of wielding magic.

While it was all excellent news for Mr. Blair, it left him with several undeniable facts. The first was that the fact of his country rested in the hands of a group of wizards and, in particular, one boy barely of age to be in the military. The second, and more important fact, and the one that brought him here today, was that the British Ministry in Exile was barely holding it's own.

Enough of Britain's gold stocks had been shipped out of the country before the fall to allow them to pay the salaries of those military forces still under British control, but that was about it. Blair knew that once Britain was free, the country would require vast amounts of aid to simply feed their own people once more, let alone rebuild the nation.

Britain had been regressed to the status of a third world nation nearly overnight. Blair knew the Americans and the United Nations stood ready to offer massive loans and material aid, but the more he could get people to donate, the less Britain would have to pay back. And that was the reason he was up at this ungodly hour.

The Prime Minister blinked several times as camera flashes fired off, creating a strobe light effect. The telethon had been going on for several hours now and he was astounded by the size of the crowd. Even with the near freezing temperatures, he estimated that there was nearly twenty thousand people present. He blinked again and shook his head. While Britain and American had a close, and rather unique relationship, this type of overwhelming support was something he hadn't expected.

Up on the stage, several British performers who had been working on Broadway when the country fell were doing a musical number.

Blair managed to take one step before his guard surrounded him and began to lead him to the back entrance to the bandshell.

One of the Prime Minister's men spoke into a lapel microphone, then frowned.

"Minister, the King's detail is reporting a delay caused by traffic. They don't expect to arrive for nearly an hour," said Carson, the chief of his protective detail.

Blair nodded in acknowledgment. The King had been loaned the use of a mansion in upstate New York and while it was suitable for his needs, it was a two hour drive to the city. They had looked into adding a helicopter landing pad, but the King had vetoed the idea. The people who'd loaned him use of their property were friends and he didn't want to ruin their property.

"Inform our hosts that the King will be delayed in his arrival, but that I can go on when they are ready," Blair replied.

The man nodded and spoke softly into his microphone.

Blair sat on a small stool, listening to the Master of Ceremonies, a young British Actor name Michael something or other. He had made a name for himself on Broadway in the last four years.

"Folks! It seems that, despite our best efforts, His Majesty is being delayed by another New York phenomenon, traffic!"

Blair chuckled along with the audience and shook his head.

"His Majesty will join us shortly. In the meantime, however, we're proud to bring out the Prime Minister, who will speak about the efforts required to rebuild the country after the war," said the MC.

The crowd murmured appreciatively and a stage manager waved frantically at Blair.

He stood and walked forward briskly. It was a slightly different venue than he was used to. The telethon experience was something he hadn't been involved with before.

He walked onto the stage with a wave. The MC sat on a stool and he waved for Blair to join him on another.. Behind them a huge screen lowered, showing photographs smuggled out of Britain.

Blair breathed a sigh of relief. Up until that moment, he hadn't been sure that someone wasn't going to make him do something embarrassing to entertain the people. No, from the look of it, all he was going to do was answer questions asked to him by the MC.

His security detail spread out around him, covering the front and back of the stage. Standing in the wings were four different men, ready to tackle their principle in order to keep him safe.

"Mr. Prime Minister, it is good to see you. First off, on the behalf of the people of New York, I want to thank you for taking the time from your busy schedule to talk with us today."

"Thank you, Michael, and thank you New York," Blair said with a wave at the crowd.

The crowd roared its approval.

"Mr. Blair, can you describe the current conditions under which our fellow subjects are enduring?"

Inwardly, Blair smiled. Actor or not, the man seemed to be intent on asking questions which would have people reaching for their wallets.

"Michael, the conditions our people are living under are terrible. There are only a few working power plants and most of that goes to the major cities. Many are scrambling for food and medicines. There are no basic services and a dawn to dusk curfew is in effect. Martial law has resulted in the summary execution of thousands..."

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" a hoarse voice rang out from the crowd.

Blair blinked in shock as a green beam hit Michael, the man slumped bonelessly to the stage. In an instant, his security detail sprang into action. Gunshots rang out. The noise was caught by the bandshell and echoed out to the crowd which recoiled in fear.

Blair saw another beam of green light heading towards him before he was hurled to the floor with a heavy mass laying on top of him. Then the world swirled and he was sure he was going to be violently ill.

A few who were on the stage at the time and looking in the right direction claimed that the Prime Minister vanished from sight when he hit the floor. But there was no time to analyze what they saw right then. Gunfire erupted as the Prime Minister's security detail, half muggle and half wizard, fought with the hit squad sent by Marne Murphy.

The crowd surged back in a complete panic. New York City police units placed calls for assistance and over the radios the sound of gunfire was clearly heard. The Prime Minister's driver, a member of Scotland Yard's Diplomatic Protection Group, placed a radio call, diverting the King to the nearest state police barracks, alerting the American government of the attack.

Up near the stage, five bodyguards and four wizards fought against six hit wizards. The bandshell had taken a number of explosive hexes and was in serious danger of collapse. It didn't help matters that two of the wizards would occasionally fire on the stampeding crowd in order to add to the panic. The crowd was pushing the police back, keeping them from reaching the stage.

The stalemate at the bandshell lasted only a minute or two, then one of the DPG men got in a good burst from his UZI, killing two of the wizards.

The team leader for the hit squad glanced around and made his decision. His target was gone, two of his men were dead. There was no point in staying around. He wasn't a Death Eater, but his orders were clear.

"MOSMORDRE!" he shouted over the bandshell, then he apparated. The three remaining wizards followed him, leaving carnage and chaos behind. Voldemort's attack against the muggle government had failed.

Haven Hospital...

Melinda looked up from the end of shift paperwork she was filing as the alarm of an emergency incoming portkey shocked the calm silence of the emergency room.

Seeing that enough staff had assembled to handle just about any situation, she slid off her stool and moved a bit closer. It had been a slow night, with no known operations planned, so she was curious.

A moment later there was a whooshing sound of the arriving portkey. The volume of the sound indicated it had covered considerable distance. Melinda only caught a glimpse of two men on the floor before the staff surged forward. One man was levitated onto a stretcher, where a medi-witch placed a sheet over him. He was dead on arrival.

The second man stood and answered some of the questions being asked him in a voice which quavered slightly. Then he became violently ill. Several people ran diagnostic spells on him and came to the same conclusion; portkey vertigo.

The staff went back to their duties, leaving one healer with the man to ask the necessary questions and fill out the paperwork. As the crowd melted away, Melinda got her first real look at the man and gasped.

"Mr. Prime Minister?" she asked, rushing to his side. She had been introduced to him, but hadn't really had a chance to speak with him.

"Mrs... Mrs?"

"McKinney. Mrs. McKinney, sir. I don't know how you ended up here, but let me contact someone that can help." Turning away slightly, she called for Dilly, a little sharper than she'd intended.

Dilly appeared, looking nervous. She wasn't used to coming to the hospital, except to bring Melinda a meal or two. And Melinda had never called her like this before!

"Dilly do be here," she said anxiously. The little elf tugged nervously on the dress Melinda had convinced her to wear.

Melinda smiled at her. "Dilly, I need you to find Arthur. It's an emergency. He's to come to the hospital right away."

Dilly nodded and vanished with a pop.

Padfoot Manor...

Harry crawled into bed, tired and dirty. He didn't even have the energy to cast a quick cleaning charm. Hermione had fallen asleep a short while ago in a similar state.

He winced and waved a hand, closing the curtains on the afternoon sun that was starting to stream into the bedroom.

It had been a long night at the manor and no one had gotten any sleep. Following the fight with Dumbledore and his mercenaries, Harry had spent hours dealing with Michael O'Dalley and his Irish counterpart, a taciturn man named Bannon O'Keefe.

The attack had happened shortly after one in the morning, and thanks to the investigators, no one had been released or been able to get to bed until after eleven. Over nine hours of questioning was enough to try the patience of anyone, especially when they were exhausted.

Harry had been the last one released by the Aurors, having provided verbal testimony, as well as pensieve memories. O'Dalley had mentioned the strange device found which had opened a hole in the wards, but hadn't been able to provide Harry with an explanation.

Now, in the quiet peace of the bedroom, he closed his eyes and sighed in contentment.

"Master Harry! Master Harry! Yous need to be waking up please, Master Harry!"

Harry cracked one eye open, looked at the clock on the wall and nearly growled. He'd been asleep for just over an hour and his head felt as if it were stuffed with cotton. "Dobby, what's the emergency?" he mumbled, trying hard not to sound irritated.

"Master Harry, Minister Amelia is here with a special guest. She is asking if the guest can stay here, in one of your rooms, until tomorrow," Dobby replied, looking at him with wide, earnest eyes. He twisted his shirt in his hands, a gesture Harry knew came from his nervousness.

"Does Amelia want to talk to me?"

"I don't think so, Master Harry."

He yawned hugely, then turned over on his side. "Excellent," he murmured. "Put Amelia's guest in the blue room and make sure they're well cared for. Wake me in four hours and I'll check on them then."

Dobby nodded. "Yes, sir! Dobby take care of Prime Minister good for Master Harry. You see!" he cried, then he vanished with a pop.

He grunted in reply, not realizing the elf had left.

"Harrry, what was that all about?" Hermione mumbled.

"Something about us putting the Prime Minister up for the night. It's nothing important. Go back to sleep," he replied sleepily.

When she moved closer to him and wrapped an arm around him, he smiled and mumbled something unintelligible before drifting off to sleep.

Haven...

Mr. Lovegood scanned the front page of The Paper one last time and nodded in satisfaction. The morning addition had been delivered a little late, due to last night's attack, but they'd gotten it out. It was a headline he was proud of.

Wanted Fugitive Killed in Assault on Lord Potter.
Albus Dumbledore killed by Snorkack!

This morning, in a daring raid by more than fifty wizards on Lord Potter's home, the internationally wanted fugitive, Albus Dumbledore, was killed when he encountered a Snorkack protecting it's family.

The attack occurred around one o'clock this morning. Michael O'Dalley, head of the Haven Constabulary, said that Dumbledore had hired a large group of mercenaries to assist him in assaulting the Manor house. They used an ancient and little known object called the Arch of Solomon to breach the wards. The Arch has been turned over to the Irish Department of Mysteries for analysis.

Once through the wards, the group attacked Lord Potter's manor, killing one house elf and wounding several others. During the fight, Harry Potter dueled with Dumbledore, wounding him severely. According to O'Dalley, Lord Potter was trying to maneuver Dumbledore into a situation that would force him to surrender. But no surrender was forthcoming. Lord Potter was lightly injured in the duel, receiving a mild cut to his arm, which was healed at the scene.

Albus Dumbledore was mortally injured in the duel, but had managed to cast a healing spell that might have allowed him to live if he received medical aid in time. But then he was killed by a Snorkack named Fuzz.

Snorkacks are very rare creatures of the light. Unlike some light creatures however, a Snorkack will use lethal force when protecting it's companion wizard. In this particular case, the Snorkack in question is bonded with Mrs. Luna Black, the daughter of the publisher of The Paper.

During last night's attack, Mrs. Black, along with Lord Potter and members of his household, defended the manor from assault by Dumbledore and his mercenaries. They successfully held off the larger group of attackers until help arrived in the form of the Saudi fire breathing cavalry...

The crimes of Albus Dumbledore, Page 2.
Harry Potter, separating the facts from the legend, Pages 3,4,5
Snorkacks! The truth the Ministry doesn't want you to know! Page 7
Snorgriffs! The attempt by Voldemort to breed Hippogriffs and Snorkacks. Page 8
Centerfold pullout, A Snorkack named Fuzz. Four Page color spread!

Office of the Minister for Magic, Haven...

"I don't care where the Minister is, you ignorant cow, I demand to see her! I am Councilor Coeur de Lion!" Amhar shouted angrily. In one hand he held a copy of The Paper, which he waved like a baton under the nose of the secretary.

Amelia was out of the office, leaving the witch to keep watch over matters.

Amhar paced back and forth angrily. This was unheard of! The Minister should have called an emergency session of the Wizengamot to inform them of the death of Dumbledore. Finding out about it via The Paper was an insult to the Wizengamot!

Amhar turned and leaned over the secretary's desk. "You will tell me where the Minister has gone, or you will regret it."

"Councilor, those words could be considered a threat," a chilly voice said from behind him.

Amhar spun around to find Amelia's niece staring at him coldly and his eyes narrowed. He wasn't going to take anything from the little bitch! She was part of Potter's Brotherhood.

"You will learn to keep your place, young lady, I don't know what kind of upbringing you've had, but clearly the Minister has not done right by you. Look at you! Pregnant like a common street whore. You couldn't even find yourself a decent husband. No, you had to sully your blood with a muggle born! You're a disgrace. A filthy, disgusting..."

Susan had been having a particularly difficult day, and she had reached the stage of her pregnancy where her magic was becoming unreliable. Thankfully, the stage didn't last long. However, for the duration of the two to three weeks it lasted, a pregnant witch found that her magic was largely out of her control.

Unfortunately for the councilor, Susan was just entering that stage in her pregnancy. Hearing his words, her eyes narrowed, and for a brief moment, her control slipped.

Amhar discovered the hard way what so many others knew. It was not a good thing to make a pregnant witch angry. Coeur de Lion found himself picked up and thrown through the door in a burst of accidental magic that broke every pane of glass in the building.

An alarm sounded somewhere nearby and Susan stared at Amelia's secretary in horror. Then her eyes filled with tears.

"I didn't... I mean... he was... I couldn't..." she babbled.

The middle aged secretary stood up and ran around her desk. She embraced Susan, trying to calm her. Waves of magic poured off the pregnant woman and the room groaned. Clouds of dust shifted down from the ceiling.

Immediately following her outburst, Harry and Hermione appeared. Harry had apparated them both, still in their pajamas, from the manor to the Ministry building.

Harry crouched low, his staff extended and glowing brightly. It took him a moment to realize he was standing in Amelia's office, dressed in only his boxers, and Hermione was wearing clothing only slightly more concealing. Harry concentrated for a moment, transfiguring Hermione's pajamas into a simple outfit and his boxers into jeans and a t-shirt that read: "Did the aliens forget to remove Voldemort's anal probe?"

Hermione, seeing Susan, rushed over to help the distraught woman. Harry looked around and spotted Amhar laying in a crumpled heap partially in the far wall, out in the corridor. He fought the impulse to grin but failed.

A moment later, Terry came hobbling through the door, his cane in one hand and his wand in the other. Behind him came most of the Brotherhood. He noted sourly that they had delayed long enough to throw on some clothing. Why didn't I think of that? he grumbled to himself.

Tonks probably would have shown up, but she was still in Haven Hospital. As it was, every other Brotherhood member had arrived, summoned inadvertently by Susan.

"What happened here?" Harry asked.

Amelia's secretary looked up. "It was councilor Coeur de Lion. He said some hateful things to Mrs. Boot, who was trying to protect me. The Minister is at the Operations Center dealing with an emergency, so it was just me in the office until Susan arrived. The councilor turned on Susan, calling her a whore, and said some other ugly things about her husband and his heritage. Susan lost control at that point."

Harry glanced to Susan, who Hermione, Ginny and Luna seemed to have managed to calm, then he glanced at Coeur de Lion, who was still partially embedded in the wall, though a healer was now examining him.

"Will she be alright?" Harry sent to Hermione.

"I think so. She's just upset. She's reached the stage where her the control over her magic is a bit wonky. It doesn't last long, but it's a difficult time for a witch."

"This is common? You knew about this?" he asked incredulously, looking around the room with new eyes. He had never heard anything about this before.

"Of course I knew about it!" she snapped. "Madam Pomfrey gave a lecture to all the girls near the end of our third year, explaining what happens to a witch during pregnancy. It's one of the reasons why it's so rare to find a witch pregnant out of wedlock. They need the support of a husband and family to help them through the time when they lose control of their magic."

"I'm sorry, I never heard of such a thing," he replied contritely. "What can we do for Susan?"

"Right now? She could do with a calming draught and Terry should take her home to the manor."

"I'll see about getting a draught from the healer who's dealing with our dear councilor," he told her.

She shuddered from the imagery Harry inadvertently sent her.

"Harry! Don't kill him!"

Harry winced. "Yes, dear."

He stepped from the office just seconds before Amelia rushed in. He limped over to the healer.

"Will he live?"

The healer looked up to see a pair of hard green eyes staring back at him. "Yes, he'll survive. He's just stunned."

"Pity that. He provoked a pregnant woman until her magic struck back at him. Do you have a calming draught on you? She could use it."

The healer's expression darkened. "Yes, I have one," he replied fumbling in his case. "Have her drink the whole thing, but keep her here until I can look her over. That was a powerful magical blast."

The healer pulled out a small brown vial and handed it to Harry, who nodded in thanks before leaving him with Amhar again.

Harry walked back into the outer office and over to Susan, who was now seated next to her husband, weeping softly. Terry held her hands, murmuring comfortingly to her.

Crouching down, Harry gave the vial to Terry, then looked at Susan. "No one blames you for what happened, you know. It was an accident. Terry has a potion that will help you. Drink it down and relax. The healer outside wants to make sure you haven't hurt yourself."

Susan smiled weakly at Harry and he patted her shoulder.

"Harry, Amelia wants to talk to us in her office."

Harry looked up to catch Hermione's eye. She was turning to follow Amelia and motioned for him to follow.

"Will you be alright?" he asked Susan as he stood up.

She sniffled a little and nodded. Terry was holding up the calming draught for her to drink. Luna, Emma and Ginny stood beside her. The men surrounded them all, bristling with suppressed anger and looking dangerous enough that no one risked getting too close.

Giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze, he turned away and followed Hermione into Amelia's office.

"Shut the door, Harry, please." Amelia said as she walked around her desk and sat down.

Harry shut the door, then collapsed into a chair next to Hermione. So far they had managed to get only a few hours sleep.

"You two look exhausted." Amelia observed.

"We are," Hermione replied, answering for them both. "I'm not sure what time Harry got to bed, but I know it was after me and I didn't get to bed until after eleven this morning. The Aurors and constables had a lot of questions about last night."

"I was a half hour or so behind you," Harry said tiredly. He glanced up at a wall clock and shook his head. It was just after four in the afternoon.

"I take it your guest is still sleeping?"

The Potter's exchanged a look.

"Guest?" asked Harry in confusion.

Amelia frowned. "Yes. I dropped him off around one this afternoon. The Prime Minister? Surely you remember?"

"I didn't dream that?" Harry asked himself in wonder. "Oh, bugger me."

"Harry, language!" Hermione admonished softly.

"Dobby!" Harry called, ignoring his wife.

Dobby appeared with a small pop. "Yous call, Master Harry?"

"Yes, Dobby. Erm, did we put someone up at the manor today?"

"Yes, Master Harry. You told me to send the Minister Man to the blue room. He's sleeping right now. We being watching him since Minister Amelia says he's a very important fellow," replied Dobby.

Harry leaned back on the chair in relief. "Alright, the Prime Minister is safe for the moment. Dobby and the others will protect him, if necessary. But I'll send a few of the Brotherhood back to the manor, just in case."

Standing, he walked back to the door and opened it. He motioned to someone unseen, then Draco came into view. He whispered something to the blond and his gray eyes widened for a moment. Then he nodded and moved away, motioning to someone else.

Harry watched for a moment, then turned and closed the door again. He moved to stand behind Hermione.

"Susan is going to be fine, Amelia. I don't think there will be any problems with the Prime Minister, but I've sent Draco and Neville back to the manor to watch over him. I think we both know why you called us in here. Councilor Coeur de Lion is going to be insane with anger following this incident. If I know the idiot, he was already angry about Dumbledore, despite the fact that he hated the man."

Hermione tried to hide a smile. As much as he claimed to hate politics, he was quickly coming to grips with the topic.

"Yes, Amhar will be incensed. I fear for Susan, though. Her outburst was far beyond any normal magical outburst for a pregnant woman..."

Harry snorted. "Of course it was. Amelia, she's Brotherhood. We haven't made an issue of it, but with the exception of two of us, every Brotherhood member got a power or focus boost. Some of us got both, like Susan. A few even had special abilities awakened within them."

Amelia looked at Harry for a moment. "Did you get a power boost?"

He chuckled and shook his head. "No, what I got was help in controlling my powers. Luna is in the same boat as I am; access to enormous power, but difficulty in controlling it. Unlike the others, we were gifted more with control assistance. The last thing I need was more power, or more focus."

Hermione turned and stared at Harry. "You know what each of us got and haven't told me?"

"It never came up in conversation and it seemed sort of private. Do you really want to know that Neville has an unawakened talent for nullifying certain potions? Or that if it does awaken, Ginny is going to pop out children like clockwork? Or that Ginny's only barely scratched the surface of her gift? Or that Draco could, if he knew about it, learn to do elf magic?" He frowned for a moment, then shrugged. "I don't know where that ability came from, but I always knew the Malfoy's were a twisted lot."

Hermione narrowed her eyes and looked at her husband. This conversation wasn't over, not by a long shot.

"So, what are we to do about Amhar?" he asked, looking back at Amelia.

"I'm not sure anything can be done right now. He's going to... Councilor Coeur de Lion! What a pleasant surprise," Amelia said, pasting a bright smile on her face.

Amhar stood in the doorway, looking very rumpled. His face was white from plaster dust and a small cut was slowly closing on his forehead.

Harry moved to take the seat next to Hermione. She reached out and took his hand as he sat down.

Amhar stepped into the office, he was nearly shaking with rage. "I want to know what you are planning to do to that bitch..." His rant was cut off as he began to choke and gasp.

Harry looked at him coldly. "I would caution you, Councilor. You are addressing the Minister of Magic and referring to her married niece. Protocol dictates a certain amount of decorum in your speech. If that isn't enough for you to modify your tone, I will remind you that my wife is in the room and I will not allow such crudity to be spoken in front of her. Now, nod if you intend to converse in a civilized tone."

Amhar tried to glare at him, but his vision was beginning to tunnel and his face was turning blue. Realizing that no one was going to lift a finger to stop Potter from whatever he was doing, he nodded quickly.

Harry smiled and waved one hand airily.

The Councilor fell to his knees and gulped in a great gasp of air, then coughed several times. After he'd caught his breath, he stood up slowly, glaring at Harry and clenching his fists.

"You had something you wished to say to me, Councilor?" Amelia asked coldly. "Please be brief. I have been dealing with an unexpected emergency today, which resulted in our receiving the Prime Minister."

Amhar turned away from glaring at Harry to look at Amelia. "Here? The Prime Minister of the muggle government is here in Haven? Today?"

"Yes, Councilor. His party was attacked early this morning in New York City. Several of his body guards were wizards, trained by us. He arrived via emergency portkey shortly before noon today," Amelia informed him. It was obvious from her tone that she really wasn't interested in talking about the matter.

"Well? Where is he? I would be interested in meeting with the Prime Minister," Amhar declared loftily.

Harry chuckled and Amhar gave him a poisonous look.

"Right now the Prime Minister is sleeping in one of our guest rooms, Councilor Coeur de Lion," Hermione said sweetly.

Harry looked at the frustrated councilor, making no attempt to hide his smirk.

"I see," Amhar said icily, then he turned back to Amelia. "I would remind the Minister that the Wizengamot is supposed to be informed of it's dealings with the muggle government."

Amelia bristled at his tone.

"But she has, Councilor," Harry said softly. "The good Minister informed me of the Prime Minister's arrival this afternoon, I just haven't had a chance to inform the rest of the Wizengamot. Between the attack last night, and then your unprovoked assault on one of my Brotherhood members, it went clear out of my head. If you'd like, you can consider this your official notification." He smiled pleasantly knowing full well that he was hitting Amhar hard.

Standing, he offered his hand to Hermione, then turned to Amelia, who seemed to be trying to hold in her laughter. "Minister, I think, for the safety of all, it would be best if Susan return to the manor for a few weeks. I will send you notice when the Prime Minister is ready to return to New York. I think an escort should be arranged and we should use the portal to Gringotts New York," he said pleasantly.

Amelia nodded at Harry, who then turned and placed an arm around his wife's shoulders. They stood there for a moment, smiling cheerfully at the Councilor. Then they disappeared.

The pop Harry's apparation made was nothing compared to the shudder the building made when he punched through the wards.

Amelia smiled to herself and again silently thanked the gods that Harry was on her side. Then she turned her attention to the fuming Wizengamot member in her office. It was at times like this that she wished she wasn't Minister. Harry had wound Amhar up and left her to deal with him. To make matters worse, she knew Harry had done it deliberately as a way of reminding her, he hated politics.

Padfoot Manor...

Harry and Hermione appeared in their bedroom and he looked longingly at the bed and sighed.

"I guess it's too late to crawl into bed. Maybe Narcissa has a pepper-up potion we can take for now," he murmured, then he turned to his dresser to pull out some decent clothes.

"I suppose you're right," Hermione replied, then she paused and looked at her own clothing and smiled.

"Love, could you transfigure my nightgown back? I don't have many nightgowns like that. The blouse and pants you transfigured are nice, but I think you'd like the nightgown better."

He blinked and smiled lopsidedly. He waved his staff at her and her clothing shifted back into her nightgown. He eyed her and licked his lips for a moment, then he shook his head before pulling off his shirt to put another on.

Hermione walked over to her dresser to select something suitable for herself. She smiled, feeling the disappointment radiating from Harry. He knew that they both had things they needed to do today, and making love wasn't on the list. For now, at least.

She watched him in her mirror. Whenever she considered their relationship, she could only marvel at the changes that had been wrought in both of them. Harry was learning the ins and outs of politics and estate management, as well as making a name for himself as a keen battlefield commander. Privately they had a love life that was magical. He seemed to know how to draw her out by turning it into a game for both of them. It was something she greatly enjoyed. If someone had asked her two years ago if she considered herself a sexual being, she probably would have laughed at them.

Harry finished dressing, then he stopped by her chair in front of her dressing table. "Deep thoughts," he murmured, then he bent over and kissed the top of her head.

She looked at him in the mirror. He could tell she was thinking hard, but the bond wasn't wide enough at the moment to allow him to know what she was thinking.

"Just thinking about how much we've changed and how much I love you," she told him.

He bent over and kissed her on the back of the neck, causing her to shiver delightfully. "I love you, too," he whispered before straightening up. "I'll be in my study. I have some dispatches I need to go over. Dobby will inform us both when the Minister awakens. From what I understand, that should be soon. They gave him a light sleeping draught at the hospital, as a precaution."

"Do you think he'd like to dine with us before returning?"

"He might. I'll make the offer," Harry replied with a shrug, then he left the room.

Hermione smiled, then she lifted the charmed brush that she used to help tame her hair and started to brush.

Stonewall Lane, Dublin Ireland...

"Come in, Mr. Korwin. We've been expecting you," said a voice.

Andrew Korwin stepped nervously into the nondescript room. There was an ordinary looking metal desk, behind which sat a man, puffing on a cigarette. The man motioned for Korwin to sit down on the chair before the desk.

Korwin couldn't tell anything about the man. His face was obscured by a charm which constantly shifted his features. The man's voice was also magically altered, but there was no mistaking the French accent.

"What have you to tell me today, Mr. Korwin?"

Andrew slumped on the chair and shivered. "I don't know how long I can keep this up. Amhar is getting out of control and he's beginning to frighten me. Murphy contacted me again. She wants me to help take down Potter.

"Amhar told me he's been receiving lessons from someone about dueling. I'm beginning to think he's planning to challenge someone. He's a fairly good dueler, but I don't know who he could possibly want to challenge. This is going too far... Can't you put a stop to this? Talk to your superiors. I've been cooperating," he whined.

The man stabbed his cigarette out in an ashtray. "I remind you, Mr. Korwin, you came to us looking for help. We offered you a deal and you accepted."

"I know what I did, dammit," Andrew snarled. "But it's getting to be too much. My healer says I'm developing an ulcer... From the pressure..."

"The terms of the deal have yet to be met, Mr. Korwin. If you back out now, you know what will happen," the man said coldly.

Korwin lowered his face into his hands and shuddered.

The man reached into a drawer and pulled out a watch. "Here," he said, sliding the watch forward. "Wear this. It's a portkey that will bring you to us if you are injured. It also contains a tracer charm. Should anything happen, we will be able to find you."

Korwin reached for the watch with a trembling hand and looked gratefully at the man.

The man behind the desk decided not to tell him about the built in auto-pensieve, which would record and hold twenty four hours worth of memories. Korwin didn't need to know about that.

"You may leave, Mr. Korwin," said the man. "I expect to hear from you at the appointed time and place."

Andrew stood up and left the room. Moving quickly down the hallway, he opened the back door of the building and stepped out. Closing the door, he looked up and down the dank alley he'd entered, pulled his heavy robe tighter around himself and strode off.

Back inside the room, the man sneered at the retreating back of the Wizengamot member. He hated dealing with cowards.

Padfoot Manor (Jan 2nd)...

Amelia, Caleb and Remus filed into Harry's study for the morning briefing. Hermione sat next to Harry's desk, sorting through his mail, placing the important items on a pile for him to go through at a later time.

"Good morning," Harry said quietly. Several house elves appeared, setting out tea and coffee services and some light snacks.

"Thank you for what you did yesterday with Councilor Coeur de Lion," Amelia said dryly.

Harry grinned unabashedly. "I'm sorry, Amelia, but he just gets under my skin. It was better that you dealt with him, anyway. I lack your finesse."

She snorted and stirred her tea for a moment. "Finesse? Harry, a rampaging hippogriff has more finesse than you displayed yesterday," she said with a smile. "Did the Prime Minister get home alright?"

"Yes. We had a quiet dinner, just the PM and a few others, then we escorted him to Potter's Portals. Caleb was gracious enough to lend us ten men to provide bodyguard services long enough to get the Minister back to the Embassy and his own protective detail," Harry told her.

"Speaking of that, I've been told that by mid month we'll be able to double the detail assigned to His Majesty and the Prime Minister. Also, tomorrow we'll be holding a memorial service for Cyril. He'd managed to activate the portkey just before the killing curse struck him," Caleb said quietly.

The room fell silent.

Harry looked down at his desk, then up at Caleb. "Did we ever find out the details of what happened?"

"Apparently, the King and the Prime Minister were due to attend something they called a telethon,"Amelia told him. "The King was delayed by traffic. When the Prime Minister took the stage, the attack began. From what we've gathered, the wizards involved were Irish nationals, part of the drug syndicate run by a witch named Marne Murphy.

"Murphy and her drug business are believed to be funneling money and supplies to Voldemort's forces, using muggle smugglers. According to the head of the Prime Minister's security detail, had we not insisted on adding wizards to the mix, it's likely the Prime Minister would have been killed. As it stands, we lost a member of the protective detail. Cyril Vander, age twenty eight, unmarried, no children," she added.

She paused for a moment. "Also, more than fifty muggles were killed and over three hundred injured. The American Department of Magic is scrambling to obliviate, but they expect to have everything under control soon. The biggest problem came from the disappearance of the Minister, but we solved that using a polyjuiced body double."

Harry leaned forward, placed his elbows on the desk and rubbed his temples tiredly. He'd woke up with a slight headache and the briefing wasn't making it any better.

"We need to finish this soon. Every day that it continues we risk exposure," he muttered.

Hermione, sensing his pain, reached out and rubbed his back gently.

"Well, I have some news in that regard," Caleb offered.

Harry looked at him hopefully.

"As you know, we've trained up our own army here in Haven. We currently have fifteen hundred trained soldiers." Caleb paused and looked at everyone. "Yes, soldiers. It's no longer right to call them Aurors, even if that is what they started as. We have two units of seven hundred men each, with another hundred awaiting assignments.

"The Canadians have set up a camp in northern British Columbia, where they're training forces from Australia, New Zealand, and India, as well as their own people. All total, that's another two thousand soldiers in the making from Canada.

"The Yanks have set up a training facility in the southern United States, where they are working on building two new divisions. Now, mind you, a magical division is no where near the size of a muggle one, but we're talking about another four thousand soldiers."

Harry quickly did the math. "Seventy five hundred troops?" he asked incredulously.

Caleb nodded. "It's needed. We figure Voldemort to have around two thousand Death Eaters, another two thousand vampires and werewolves. We have no idea how many Dementors remain, but from what we're heard, the Angels have been feeding heavily. It's only a rough guess, but we figure Voldemort will be able to field nearly five thousand. And you don't want to know how many he can field if we count in the British Army."

Harry frowned at the numbers. He glanced at the map on the wall, then back to Caleb. "Has there ever been any sign of muggle activity in Diagon Alley or in Hogsmeade?"

"No, never. But if you want, we'll try to send a scouting mission to those locations," Caleb offered.

Harry nodded pensively. "We need to know, Caleb. Set up the mission."

Eocho drifted through the wall, catching everyone by surprise. "You are troubled, Maglios?"

Harry looked at his mentor, a bit startled. He never joined the morning briefings. "I am, honored teacher. We need to attack soon, but our numbers are closely matched. That suggests that a direct attack is not the way to go."

Everyone present knew of Eocho and what role he served. Amelia and Caleb remained silent, watching the conversation between Harry and the ancient specter.

"So, what does it suggest to you, Maglios?" Eocho asked approvingly.

"We must use deception and stealth. Our opening blow must be hard and decisive. It must be a surprise that significantly alters the numbers in our favor."

Eocho and Caleb nodded approvingly.

Harry stood and walked over to a map of Britain staring at it and frowning.

"Harry?" asked Remus in a worried tone.

Harry waved him to silence. "Caleb, how much time will we have until all the units are ready?"

"At least three months," Caleb replied.

"When can we assemble the unit commanders?"

Caleb frowned and thumbed through a file. "Some of the units don't have a command staff yet. I could push the Yanks to assign them, but that's at least a month away. Why? Do you have an idea?"

Harry turned away from the map, his eyes were back-lit by both his magic and his excitement. "I do. I think I know a way to surprise old snake lips and catch him out. Give me a few days to work out some details, then I'll share it with you and we can kick it around some more."

Caleb nodded while Harry returned to his chair.

"Hermione, can you talk to the twins for me?" he asked.

"About what, Harry? What have they done now?"

He chuckled. "No, it's nothing like that. I need you to explain sunlight to them."

She blinked and frowned in confusion. "Sunlight? If they don't know what sunlight is by now..."

He rubbed his temples. "No, I'm explaining this wrong. I remember muggle science in school. They said sunlight was made up of several kinds of light," he said, hoping that she would understand what he was thinking about, even if he couldn't remember.

Her eyes brightened. "Yes! I think I know where you're heading. They could do it."

"Will someone explain what you two are talking about?" Amelia asked peevishly. She hated not understanding.

"You do it, love, I have only vague memories of what I learned," he sent her.

Hermione smiled at the Minister. "I'm sorry, Amelia. I know it annoys people when I say we can stand to learn from the muggles, but it's true and this is one of those cases. Harry reminded me of something I learned in muggle school before Hogwarts. The muggles know that sunlight isn't made up of just one kind of light, but several kinds of light.

"What my husband suggested is that it's possible that one of these kinds of light could be why vampires shun sunlight. If we can find out which kind of light and make a lot of it, we could destroy vampires quickly," she explained.

Amelia leaned back on her chair. The idea was alien to her, but if it could be turned into a weapon, she was all for it.

Hermione turned back to Harry. "I'll talk to Fred and George today. Maybe Inga and Helga, as well. They would understand it better than the Weasleys and could help me explain it to them."

He nodded. "Alright, that's settled. What's next then?"

"I'm afraid I'm next, Harry," Amelia said seriously, " and it's not good news. Our friend, Councilor Coeur de Lion, is quite upset over yesterday. The healer and the constables informed him that he cannot press charges against Susan, especially now that she's receiving the support she needs. From what our records say, the last pregnant witch charged with illegal magic while pregnant happened in 1107. He doesn't have a leg to stand on in that regard, which is only making him angrier.

"The good Councilor is currently lining up summonses for people involved in the New Year's attack on the manor. He is particularly incensed over the death of Dumbledore, and the fact that an animal killed him. I fear he intends to move against Mrs. Black sometime this month.

"Also the Irish are asking if we want Dumbledore's body back. Personally, I'm of two minds on this. He was once a great man and deserves to be honored. In his later years, however, he became something twisted and evil." Amelia trailed off, looking pointedly at Harry.

"I think..." Harry stopped and sighed, bowing his head for a moment. "I don't wish to martyr the man by giving him a big ceremony. Why don't we accept the body and put it someplace safe until he can be buried in the Dumbledore ancestral cemetery? I didn't want to kill him. In fact, had he only allowed me to live my life, little of what followed would have happened."

"That's a very generous gesture, Harry," Remus said softly.

"I suppose, but the man is dead, Remus. Unlike Snape, I cannot hold any anger for a dead man."

"Still, it's a magnanimous gesture, Harry. Your parents would be proud of you for it."

Harry smiled wistfully at his friend, then turned back to Amelia when she began to speak again.

"Alright, I'll tell the Irish we'll accept the body once their forensic healers are done with it. From what we've learned from the surviving mercenaries, Dumbledore went far afield to find them. Most came from the Baltic Sea region.

"That strange device they used to breech the wards is called 'The Arch of Solomon'. It's more than two thousand years old. Little is known about it except that it tests positive for a curse. The Irish Department of Mysteries has asked to be allowed to keep it. I gave them permission, figuring you wouldn't want it, Harry."

Harry looked up from his desk and nodded. He had no use for ancient objects, especially cursed ones.

"The Irish have reviewed the pensieve memories and verbal testimonies. Barring any new evidence, they are officially ruling that all of the Haven people acted in self defense.

"I do need to add that the involvement of the spectral dog from your tattoo and the Snorkack is complicating matters. Snorkacks are light creatures and highly protected. Very few people are allowed access to one. To have Mrs. Black bond with one as her familiar is unheard of and causing several departments of the Irish Ministry to fight among themselves," Amelia explained.

"Don't they understand what Luna is?" asked Hermione in outrage.

Harry leaned forward, touched her on the arm and shook his head.

"Why ever not?"

"Luna's abilities have been kept under wraps. We haven't spread that information around, just like we've rarely told people about Ginny's abilities, or yours. The less people know about what we can do, the more we'll be able to surprise them. It's not officially classed as being secret, but we haven't advertised her abilities either," Harry told her her.

"He's right, Lady Potter," Caleb added. "It's called operational security. Although, in this case, it might be wise to clue the Irish in."

Harry turned to the Minister. "Amelia?"

She sipped her tea for a moment, thinking quickly. "I'll contact Brogan Mallory and let him know. In the interests of Anglo-Irish relations, I'm sure he'll cooperate."

"Right then, is there anything else?" Harry asked, looking around.

"I have a few minor points, my lord," Caleb said. "All of the muggles from their military have been returned to their unit. The few too ill to return, or those permanently disabled, have been sent on to a muggle hospital facility in Canada."

Harry nodded, pleased that they had been able to help the muggles.

"Also, this comes from Michael O'Dalley, via Commander Stanton. It seems the presence of so many Aurors has scared our murderer into hiding. There was a possible attack two weeks ago, but no one is quite sure. A student was accosted by Memorial Lake, but the assailant ran off before anything could happen."

"Did anything come of that idea of Remus'?"

Caleb looked at Harry in confusion. "I don't know..."

"I can answer that, Harry," Amelia said. "Caleb wouldn't ordinarily be privy to that sort of information, unless it affected military matters. According to O'Dalley, he passed the information to the Irish Department of Mysteries. They managed to identify a type of dagger which was imbued with the essence of a Dementor. It was created by an Eastern European Dark Lord several centuries ago. I forget the name of the Dark Lord, but if you want, I'll ask Michael to stop by and give you an update."

Harry shook his head. "No, I don't think that will be necessary. I was just curious." He stood and looked around with a smile. "I think we're done for today."

Realizing a dismissal when they heard it, people began to gather up their papers and exit the office.

Padfoot Manor, later that day...

Harry blinked rapidly as sweat dripped into his eyes, causing them to burn. He sat motionless in the basement training room. Around him, more than a dozen glowing balls were flying about, trying to go through a hoop. A black ball defended it, however, colliding with any ball that attempted to go through the hoop.

Eocho drifted through a wall and watched Harry for a moment, frowning. The young man sat on the floor, his back to the wall, watching the balls. All of them were bouncing up and down, except for the occasional ball that would attempt to go through the hoop.

Eocho drifted a little closer and one of the glowing balls floated right through him. Harry blinked in surprise and his concentration broke. All of the balls ceased to glow and fell to the floor. He turned to face his mentor and stood up.

"I did not expect you to be playing games, Maglios," Eocho chided.

"It was a game, honored teacher, but not what you think. Tell me, did you see me make any gestures or hear any incantations?" Harry asked, conjuring a towel to wipe his face.

Eocho stared at him for a moment, then smiled. "You have been hiding abilities from me, Maglios."

"I suppose I have, honored teacher. But I wanted to be sure of the results before I showed them to you. What you saw is a game American children play with their training wands. It's simple, fast paced and was exactly what I needed to break my block on gesturing." He looked up at Eocho a bit sheepishly. "It became fun, after while. I guess I got carried away."

Eocho laughed. "Whatever the reason, the method worked, Maglios. It seems to me, however, that you have managed more than just simple gestureless casting. Am I right in assuming that every ball required a spell that had to be continuously renewed?"

Harry nodded.

"Very interesting, Maglios. You have an ability I had not thought you would present. You were casting multiple spells, nearly simultaneously. Come, let us explore this ability in terms of combat. Even casting two spells at once would be a tremendous advantage."

Harry nodded and banished all of the pitchy balls to a box in the corner of the room.

Haven School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Jan 5th)...

It was after curfew and the library was dark, but it was the only place she could think of to hide. She'd put several rows of books between herself and the door, hoping she'd have enough warning, should someone enter.

She knelt on the stone floor, glaring down at the object she'd dropped there. She had every intention of ridding herself of it tonight, no matter how it fought her.

"I won't do it," she hissed. "I'm done!"

"But you enjoy it, you know you do. The thrill of the stalk, the strike, the killing thrust. The feel of the hot blood bathing your hands."

Slapping her hands uselessly over her ears, she tried desperately to block the sibilant voice in her head. "I wont listen. I won't, I won't, I won't," she chanted, rocking back and forth on her knees.

"You must. You are my creature now. There is no escape. You crave the kill, the blood, the death. I am a part of you and I shall never let you go."

"But I feel it!" she moaned, dropping her hands from her ears. "When they die, I feel it! The shock, the pain, the rending of their souls from their bodies."

"Yes. Pick me up. I would feel what you feel."

"No, I'm not touching that thing again. Not ever again," she muttered, clenching her fists.

"It is foolish to resist me. You know you crave what only I can give you. Now, pick me up!"

Blinding pain ripped through her head as she tried to resist. Her body tensed, then bowed back as the agony spread from her head, down her neck, her shoulders and her torso. When it flowed down her legs, she cried out hoarsely and reached for the object. The torment ended the moment she touched it, and was soothed away as she held it to her chest. Her body shook for a few moments and she caught her breath.

"Good girl. See how much better you feel? Resistance to my will only causes pain, child. We are as one, and there is no escape. Why fight what you are? Why resist what you love and what only I can give you?"

The girl only shook her head, unable to answer. It always seemed so clear when she wasn't holding the thing. It was wrong, what she did. The object needed to be destroyed, she needed to be destroyed.

But touching it, holding it, caused those thoughts to fade away, to be replaced by other, stronger thoughts. And the emotions that accompanied those thoughts were stronger still. The joy, the sheer pleasure gained by simply handling the object paled when compared to what she experienced when she actually used it.

The adrenaline rush of the hunt, the satisfaction in locating her prey. Her eyes closed as she remembered.

"Yes, that's it. Feel it, girl," the voice murmured in her mind. "Let yourself go and just feel."

The look of fear on the face of her victim. The feel of blood on her hands, the smell it, the taste of it. She licked her lips and rocked her hips, moaning in pleasure. One hand dropped down to the hem of her skirt, then disappeared underneath it.

"Perfect. And you can have more, much more."

"Yes," she hissed, rubbing herself and rocking her hips faster. "The blood, the screams, the death. I will bring them all. They'll all die by my hand!"

"We are death, and all shall fear us! We will be bathed in blood and all shall tremble before us!"

"Yes, yes!" she shrieked softly as her orgasm ripped through her, leaving her panting and clutching the object to her chest.

"We have only scratched the surface of what is possible," the voice told her gently. "I will give you things no one else can, girl. Only obey me and I will introduce you to pleasures you've never dreamed of."

Opening her eyes, she looked down at the object she held and stroked it lovingly. "Nothing can be better than the kill, the blood..." she murmured.

"My dear girl, I've introduced you to the pleasures of your body, and those of your victims. Your body is no longer pure, and we've both enjoyed those experiences. The corruption of your mind is next. You are ready for the next step. You crave it, I can feel it in you. You have a taste for the darkness only I can give you. You've only to ask me for..."

The voice cut off abruptly and the girl jerked as she heard a slight shuffling noise a few rows away.

"Move, girl! Quickly, before you are discovered."

Standing, her legs trembled for a moment. As they steadied, she moved away from the sound of slow, quiet footfalls. Reaching the aisle, she moved quickly to the row of books across from her, then towards the door. At the last row, she took a deep breath, and bolted for the exit.

Passing through it, she kept running until she reached her dorm, where she flung herself onto her bed and yanked the curtains closed.

Back in the library, Millicent Bulstrode cursed viciously as she heard the rapid, fading sounds of someone leaving the library and running down the hall. By the time she'd reached the doorway, even that was gone.

"Fuck!" she growled, walking quickly through the door and out into the hall. "Well, that's just great, Bulstrode," she muttered to herself. "Another sicko in this school and you're not even sure who it was!" She lit her wand and looked around angrily.

"They say talking to yourself is a sign of insanity," an amused voice said from the darkness.

Spinning around, she glared at Deneb. "What are you doing here?" she spat.

Raising an eyebrow, he held up his hands in surrender. "Rounds," he told her. "It's after curfew, after all. What's got your knickers in a twist?"

"I need to see the Headmistress," she said as she brushed passed him. "You might as well come along. There's no sense in telling this twice."

She walked rapidly down the hall and Deneb had to trot to catch up with her.

Reaching the office of the Headmistress minutes later, she knocked loudly, and kept knocking until she was told to enter. Pushing the door open, she walked in, then nodded when Deneb shut and warded the door.

Seeing Millicent's expression, Minerva's eyes darkened. "What is it?" she asked the younger witch. "What's happened now?"

"I think I've discovered a third," Millicent told her.

"Wait," McGonagall said. Taking a piece of clean parchment from a drawer in her desk, she placed it on the desktop. "Let's get a transcript of this," she told the two students. Casting a quick spell on her quill, she nodded for Millicent to begin.

The seventh year went through the event quickly, but precisely. She left nothing out, including the fact that she'd been unable to get a look at the person.

"I'm not even sure of gender," she concluded, clearly frustrated.

"And the person was alone?" McGonagall asked, watching the quill scribble away.

"Yes."

"And talking to himself? That's rather disturbing," Deneb said.

"Or herself. And the disturbing part was what the person said, not who they said it to. Like I told you, I couldn't hear much. Every eavesdropping charm I tried seemed to bounce away, almost as if the person was shielded in some way. Whatever spell the person used wasn't perfect, though. I caught a few words."

McGonagall skimmed the parchment until she found what she was looking for. "And the words you did catch are rather alarming. Let's see, 'the blood', 'pleasure', 'die by my hand'." Shaking her head, she looked up at the two students, her eyes concerned.

"If the person had cast some sort of shielding spell, is it possible that he or she wasn't alone?" Deneb asked.

Millicent held her hands out, palms up. "I don't know," she replied. "I didn't see or hear anyone else, but I've never seen a shield like that one before. I suppose it's possible."

"Can you think of anything else?" the headmistress asked.

"No. I'm sorry, Professor," Millicent said, her shoulders slumping.

Canceling the spell on the quill, she quickly made a copy of the transcript and stood up. "Don't be, my dear. Had you not been in the right place tonight, we might never had known about this. I'll get this to Draco and see what he makes of it. I want the two of you to finish your rounds, but you're to do them together from now on. Starting tomorrow, all prefects, and the Head boy and girl, will patrol in pairs.

"Come to me if you learn anything new, and be careful. Now, off you go." With a wave of her wand, she brought down the wards and unlocked the door.

"Goodnight, Professor," Deneb said as he followed Millicent from the office and closed the door.

Millicent walked a few steps, then stopped and leaned back against the wall. "It's not much to work with. I should have been faster," she muttered, angry with herself once more.

Standing in front of her, Deneb shook his head. "We have more than we did an hour ago, thanks to you" he told her. Reaching out, he brushed the hair back from her face and smiled. "Don't be so hard on yourself, Millie. You and I make a good team. We'll figure it out."

"I hope you're right."

"I am, you'll see. But we won't do it standing here." Taking her hand, he pulled her away from the wall and started down the hall. "We need to finish our rounds and we both have class early in the morning."

"Don't remind me," she grumbled. "Double potions. I hate potions!"

When they turned the corner and started down the next hallway, she smiled. He still held her hand and didn't seem to be in any hurry to release it.

Padfoot Manor, Morning Briefing (Jan 6th)...

Michael O'Dalley and Draco filed into the room along with Amelia and Professor McGonagall. Remus stood in the back of the room, listening.

Harry frowned. O'Dalley's presence rarely meant anything good. "Alright, who wants to start off this morning?" he asked, trying to keep things light.

"I guess I might as well, largely because this topic is mostly in my area," Michael murmured. "Last night we learned of a possible third agent of Voldemort's in the school. Headmistress McGonagall's spies..."

"Please, Mr. O'Dalley. They are students concerned about the war and doing their part to help," Minerva said in a pained voice.

Draco's snicker became a cough as he tried to look innocent. Minerva's glare had him looking at his feet, inspecting his shoes. Even though she wasn't his teacher anymore, he still felt intimidated by her.

"Very well. Headmistress McGonagall's students overheard a conversation one student was having, with themselves apparently. I've seen the transcript Mr. Black was provided by the Headmistress and my initial impression was that we're not looking at a spy, but a homicidal maniac under Voldemort's control.

"My lord, we have a couple of other clues that were leading us towards the school in our murder investigation, and now it looks like we're able to tie this new information in with that. I believe that our murderer is at the school. Either among the students or staff."

Harry turned to the Headmistress. "Minerva?"

McGonagall frowned. "I don't like it, Harry. I've informed the prefects that from now on they will patrol in pairs, and I'm thinking of enacting an earlier curfew. But beyond that there isn't much I can do."

Harry turned to O'Dalley. "Michael, what about the weapon? Amelia said you think you've narrowed that down."

O'Dalley pulled a sheet of parchment from his folder and began to read.

"It's called a Blade of Mordoc. Dark Lord Mordoc was in what is now modern day Bulgaria. He actually controlled most of the country in the fifteenth century through the use of a cadre of assassins. He equipped his assassins with daggers that were imbued with the powers of a Dementor."

Harry leaned back nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, Remus told us about that. How about if we distribute pictures of the weapon and it's characteristics to all the local healers and law enforcement people? This way if they come across it, they'll know not to touch it."

O'Dalley nodded and made a notation in a small book. "Excellent idea, sir. Especially considering what we've learned about the blades."

Hermione looked at him with interest. "Oh?"

O'Dalley shrugged. "From what the Irish have told us, the blades are extremely dangerous. History says they have the ability to possess their owners." Opening a small book, he flipped through it for a moment until he found what he was looking for. "Alright then, the blade was designed to be a weapon of torture. The idea was to stab your victim in a non-lethal place and leave the blade in place. The blade would then cause intense pain on the order of a Cruciatus curse in order to force the victim to remove it.

"The downside of this is the Dementor aspect of the knife. It only became effective when the knife was removed. The process of pulling the knife out caused the blade to absorb the victim's soul, much like a Dementor's kiss."

Those in the room shivered slightly. The blades were truly evil and no one wanted to think about them too much.

"Does that mean the person wielding the blade might be controlled by it?" asked Hermione.

"It is a possibility, my lady," O'Dalley replied. "But we really don't have enough information to be sure. There's no record of an assassin being separated from his blade and surviving."

Hermione visibly shuddered and Harry reached over and grabbed her hand for a moment, then he turned back to O'Dalley.

"Is there anything else we can do, Michael? Can we beef up security at the school? Maybe send some deputies out there for night patrols?"

"I'll speak with Commander Stanton about it. If nothing else, it should reassure the Headmistress," he replied, smiling at Minerva.

"You might want to speak to Healer August, Michael. If we come upon a victim with the blade still inside them, we'll need a plan of action. Obviously, we can't remove it. At least, not easily," Harry offered.

O'Dalley looked surprised and he scribbled a quick note.

Harry turned to Draco. "You've been awful quiet during all this. Do you have anything to add?"

Draco shrugged. "Not really, Harry. When the report arrived today it sounded to me like it was more of a law enforcement issue than a case of espionage. I have suggested to Professor McGonagall that we monitor key points of the school by setting up a few of the stationary fliers Q branch created for us, and she's agreed."

"What about Ginny?" asked Hermione.

Harry frowned and looked down at his desk for a moment. "I don't know, Hermione. Remember the last time we exposed her to dark magic? I know she's felt something every time the blade was used, but I'm not sure we can expose her to that right now. She's still too unsure and too affected by her gift for it to be of much use."

Hermione looked undecided, but she nodded. Harry's reasons made sense, for now.

Three Scots, Aviemore, Scotland (Jan 7th)...

"Message for you, sir!"

McHardy looked up from his desk and took the slip of paper. His eyebrows rose when he felt it was more than one slip. Normally, messages were extremely brief.

"Has this been authenticated?"

"Yes, sir," replied the communications technician.

"Very well. Thank you," he replied absently.

The technician nodded and left the room, closing the door behind him.

McHardy opened the message and began to read.

To: CO Three Scots, Royal Regiment of Scotland.
Frm: BAC, NY

It is important to ascertain the condition of the following arteries. A9/A96/A82. The status of A82 from Inverness to Fort William is critical. You are directed to send scouting missions out to determine the status of these roads. Stop.

Operational tempo will be increasing in coming months. You are to be resupplied starting 20th January. Three Scots will be brought up to full manpower operational status. See attached sheet citing units and equipment you will receive. Stop.

Conditions within Inverness are to be monitored daily. A special infiltration team will be included in unit reinforcements. You will use the team to set up a base within the city and report on conditions within.

Message ends...
BAC TAC 47678BX

McHardy looked at the message flimsy for a moment longer, then frowned and reached for a map.

"Shit," he breathed, looking at the map, then stabbed a button on his desk.

The door opened. "Sir?"

"Locate Captain Hanover and ask him to come to my office, please," McHardy said.

"Sir!"

The door closed and McHardy stared at the map. Inverness to Fort William was a distance of more than 102 kilometers.

The door opened and Hanover entered the room. The former lieutenant had received his promotion when command of the regiment fell to his shoulders after the disastrous fiasco at Fort George.

"You sent for me, sir?"

"Yes, John. Come in and sit down, please. We have new orders from British Army Command in New York. It seems they want to know the status of the arterials around Inverness, especially A82."

Hanover looked up at the map and frowned. "How far out do they want to know?"

"From Inverness to Fort William, just over one hundred kilometers," McHardy said.

Hanover leaned back on his chair and thought for a moment. "Extended patrol, then. If there is little activity on the road, the boys could do it in ten days. But that rarely happens. Figure at least twenty days to cover the area and make it back. Observe and avoid contact?" he asked.

"Precisely."

"Make it twenty five days to be on the safe side, sir."

"How many men will you take?"

"On this type of mission? We want to keep the numbers down. Figure ten men, a radio operator and myself," Hanover replied.

McHardy frowned for a moment, then he made his decision. "Take one or two of Thrawkmort's lads with you."

Hanover blinked in surprise, but nodded. He couldn't explain what Thrawkmort's group was, but he knew from experience they were useful in a pinch. "Yes, sir."

"Very well, John, you have your orders. Gather your men, check your gear and plan to move out at dawn," McHardy said.

Hanover stood and saluted. "Yes, sir."

McHardy returned the salute, then turned to contemplate the map again. It was becoming apparent what command was considering.

Haven Operations Center (Jan 10th)...

Harry walked out of the training room deep in thought. He had just finished a dueling session against six simultaneous opponents. The sessions were getting brutal, but he needed them to keep himself up to speed. He dueled solo, while the others dueled in teams. He wanted to practice what it would be like if he were dueling his way to Voldemort, or dueling the Dark Lord himself. He seriously doubted the Voldemort would duel him alone, so he had to be prepared.

"Harry?"

He turned and spotted Draco beckoning him.

"Yeah, Draco?" he asked tiredly as he approached the pale blond man.

"Rough session?"

He nodded.

"Look mate, could I get your help for a little bit? I have to deal with the twins and I need to put them in their place," Draco said seriously.

"You're going to put the twins in their place?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes, I am," Draco replied stiffly.

"Lead on, Draco. This ought to be good."

"Fine, but just play along, will you?" Draco asked in a pleading tone.

Harry nodded and followed Draco to his office. He took a seat next to Draco's desk and waited. A few minutes later, Fred and George entered his office.

"You wanted to see us?" asked Fred with a smile.

Harry blinked and fought the urge to laugh. The twins had been in the office for less than twenty seconds and already Draco sported a large pair of donkey ears, which he seemed unaware of.

"Yes. I understand you're planning on marrying the Johansen twins?" Draco asked dryly.

Fred and George exchanged identical looks of surprise. It was true they were planning on asking the twins, but they hadn't known anyone else knew about it.

"How did you," Fred started.

"...find out about that?" George finished.

Draco smirked and leaned back on his chair. He scratched idly at one ear. "Oh, I hear things."

When Harry coughed loudly, the twins shot him a grin before turning back to Draco.

Harry doubled over coughing, he couldn't look at Draco, who was now sporting whiskers to match his ears.

Draco shot Harry an angry glance. Potter was supposed to be on his side! He picked up a parchment and handed it to George. "I take it you haven't seen this, then? Or perhaps you ignored it, like so many other inter-office memos?" Draco asked.

George read the memo and paled so hard his freckles looked like blood spots. "You can't be serious!" he exclaimed.

Draco shrugged and his ears flattened for a moment. "I'm quite serious. It's Ministry policy to discourage office romances."

Fred grabbed the parchment from George and scanned it, then glared at Draco. "I don't believe this. A summary court martial? Drawing and quartering? Burning at the stake? Public whippings?"

Draco's hair suddenly stood out straight and he impatiently pushed it out of his eyes. "I'm sorry, but the Ministry's stand on this is firm. I wanted to warn you before I was forced to take action."

Harry bolted into Draco's private bathroom. From behind the closed door came the sound of laughter.

Fred looked at his brother, aghast. "Now what?"

"I haven't a clue," George replied dejectedly.

"We could fire Inga and Helga," offered Fred.

George brightened, then he abruptly deflated. "No, they'd kill us. They like working around the magic."

Draco hid his smirk and raised one hoof, waving it at them. "I'm truly sorry, guys," he offered.

Harry stepped back into the office and collapsed into a chair, staring at Draco.

The two Weasley men kept passing Draco's bogus memo back and forth, at a loss, for once.

"Oh, really!" a voice exclaimed from the door.

Everyone turned to face Luna, who stood in the doorway shaking her head. Behind her stood the Johansen twins.

Harry felt the surge and wondered when Luna had mastered gestureless casting. Slowly, Draco's transformation reversed itself.

"This has got to stop," Luna said in a surprisingly annoyed tone. "He comes home depressed by your incessant pranks, and does little but try to think of ways to get back at you. Well, he succeeded. He made you think you couldn't marry your girlfriends," she said, waving at the Fred and George.

Both Weasley men stared at Luna in shock. Yes, they had planned to ask the girls, but they hadn't yet. And now Luna was giving away their secret!

Helga and Inga both gave identical squeals and lunged at their boyfriends.

Harry sat on his chair, grinning. He and Hermione would have quite a laugh over this, later.

Luna turned on Draco. "And you! Enough with the revenge already. Don't you know how mean that prank was?"

George glanced over at Fred. "Does this mean we can marry them?" he asked, his arms wrapped around his girlfriend.

"I think so brother," wheezed Fred as Inga hugged the breath out of him.

Luna stared at the Weasleys for a moment, then her eyes narrowed and both men's expressions changed.

From their pants, faint wisps of smoke drifted free and the two red heads looked pained. A moment later, Fred bolted to Draco's bathroom, leaving Inga staring at his back in confusion. There was a moment of silence and then a muffled howl. Fred threw open the door and tumbled back out, staring at Luna in horror.

"Please tell me it isn't permanent," he gasped.

"Alright, I won't tell you," she replied smugly. "Besides, I've done Inga a favor by doing this."

Fred glanced at George, who paled and rushed into the bathroom to check for himself. A moment later he came out, shaking.

Luna moved to sit on Draco's desk, her feet not touching the floor. She smiled dreamily at the two men. "Now, boys, a good prank is fun and all, but we don't want to get carried away, do we?" she asked.

The two exchanged a glance, then met Luna's blue eyes. "We surrender!" the exclaimed in unison.

She smiled happily. "I thought so. No more pranking my Dray. Play nice and everyone will be happy. Run along now and show your fiancÃ©es your new tattoos."

She seemed to focus on a spot over their shoulder and a flicker of an aura played about her body. The two Weasley men blanched and dragged their confused girlfriends from the office before Luna decided to do any more damage.

Draco leaned back on his chair and let out and explosive breath. "What did you do to them?"

"Oh, I know how you boys like to name your body parts. So I tattooed Gred and Forge on their willies," she replied, staring at her fingernails.

Harry winced and closed his legs involuntarily.

Luna glanced over at him for a moment. "You should go home, Harry. Your leg's hurting you and tomorrow might be a busy day. I meet with the committee tomorrow."

Harry blinked as his leg began to ache. "I guess I'll leave you two alone for now. I'll see you at dinner," he replied. Standing, he looked at them both oddly for a moment, then apparated from the office.

Luna swiveled on the desk so she was facing Draco. She smiled and hooked a finger, beckoning him closer. He slid closer in his chair and she wrapped her arms around him, pressing his face into her breasts.

"Don't worry about the twins anymore, Dray. I think the girls will keep them in line," she murmured, playing with his hair.

Padfoot Manor...

Harry sat at his desk, writing a reply to his friend, the Sheik, when Winky appeared next to him. He nodded to the little elf. "Winky, is there something wrong?"

"It's Miss Hermione, Master Harry. She be asking for some foods that I can't gives her," she said, tugging on the little dress Hermione had gotten for her.

Harry frowned. Hermione doesn't usually ask for unique foods, and she's never unreasonable in her requests. Especially with an elf! he thought.

"Alright, Winky. Tell me what she wants and I'll see if I can get it for you," he offered with a smile.

Winky smiled in relief. "Miss Hermione wants strawberries, vanilla peach swirl ice cream with pistachios, sardines and graham crackers. We don'ts have any strawberries, or sardines."

Harry made a list and scowled. "I'll talk to Hermione, then I'll see what I can do?"

The little elf nodded and vanished with a pop.

"Honey? What's with the strange food request?" he sent her.

Silence.

He frowned and checked their bond. Hermione had shut it down to the barest minimum and was keeping it closed. He could force it open, but with her keeping it closed, it would only close down again unless he over powered her, and he wasn't willing to do so.

He dropped his quill and stood up, summoning his staff. Luna had been right about his leg hurting. It had flared up just about the time he'd made it home.

He limped into the hallway and was surprised to see Dan, Remus, Draco and Neville in an intense conversation. Remus spotted him and waved him over.

They quieted down as he approached and Dan turned to him. "Let me guess, she wants some food we don't have?"

Harry nodded, dumbfounded. "How did you know?"

"It's the same with all of us, mate," Neville said. "Ginny wants a New York hot dog, a slice of pizza and a whole cheesecake!"

Draco snorted and shook his head. "At least that's doable. Luna wants a glass of nectar from a Stygian Fire Blossom," he moaned, then he grabbed his head. "To make matters worse, that lethal fuzzball of hers keeps growling at me when I offer her something more normal."

Dan stared at the others, then shook his head in denial. "You don't suppose they're all pregnant?" he asked in a horrified tone.

A look of pure terror passed among the men.

"That's it, I'm going to talk to Hermione," Harry said grimly.

He turned and limped towards the door to his bedroom. The men watched him fearfully from a distance, figuring they were safe where they were.

Harry touched the door and jerked his hand back in surprise. Hermione had warded the door!

"Hermione. it's me. Open the door!" he yelled, shaking his still stinging hand.

"Do you have sardines?" came the reply.

Harry glanced at his friends, who gestured to him in support. He turned back to the door.

"Well... no... But look, Hermione, I want to talk to you."

"Get out of here, Harry. Go get me some sardines!" she ordered.

He flinched back from the door. The other men flinched with him. This just didn't make any sense. They all couldn't be pregnant at the same time. Besides they took precautions! He swore to himself, turned around and marched back towards his friends.

He stopped suddenly and stared at the men as a thought struck him. "Susan," he muttered. He turned around again and limped off in the direction of Susan and Terry's room.

The men followed along, confused.

He stopped and knocked on the door. "Terry? Susan? It's Harry. May I come in?"

Terry opened the door and let them all enter the room.

Susan sat at their breakfast table. Around her was an impressive array of foods, many rather exotic. She waved, then dipped a piece of peanut butter covered broccoli into a pot of chocolate sauce and bit into the dripping mess. She wore only her loosely fitting dressing gown over a nightgown. Every so often she'd reach up and stroke her Brotherhood medallion, as if for comfort.

Terry stared at the group of men. "Um... Guys? Is something wrong?"

Dan took another look at Susan and leaned back against the wall as his legs went weak with relief. He started to laugh and slid slowly to the floor. "It's her!" he exclaimed.

"I... er... I don't know how to say this," Harry murmured. Then he glanced at the others, looking for someone to rescue him from the awkward situation.

Remus stepped forward and clapped a hand on Terry's shoulder. "It's like this, Terry. Susan's cravings are being transmitted to every woman in the Brotherhood."

Susan stopped eating and stared at the others in horror. Terry's eyes widened and he blanched.

"Hermione is demanding sardines," Harry mumbled. "I've never even seen a sardine. It's a fish isn't it? I can't conjure something I've never seen before!"

Susan stood and walked over to the group. "You couldn't conjure them anyway, Harry. Conjured foods don't taste the same. I made Terry go out looking for this stuff," she said, pointing to the table.

One look at Terry was enough for the men to know that she might think he went out searching, but some of the items were, in fact, conjured.

"Talking to them might help, but I think it might help even more if you stopped caressing your medallion. I think you're broadcasting to the other women, via the medallion," Remus offered with a gentle smile. He couldn't fail to see the humor of the situation.

Susan blushed and nodded.

"So what do we do now?" asked a perplexed Harry.

"I suggest that we let Susan go talk to the ladies. In the meantime, it looks like we're going shopping," Remus said with a snicker.

"Does anyone know where I can get Stygian Fire Blossom nectar? And what's a Peanut M&M?" asked Draco worriedly.

Padfoot Manor (Jan 11th)...

The following morning, a group of unhappy husbands and very embarrassed wives sat around the breakfast table. Susan appeared, taking her seat and everyone glanced at her. She coughed and looked down at the table, mortified.

"So, Draco, did you ever figure out what a Peanut M&M is?" asked Harry with a smirk. He had gotten off easily. They had all apparated into Cork to find what they needed and he had found the sardines very quickly in a grocery store.

Draco frowned at him. The whole mansion had heard about his failure to find M&Ms. Luna had been uncharacteristically vocal about.

Luna blushed and stared at her plate.

Fuzz, currently invisible, opened her eyes and peeked through Luna's hair. "Meep whirr?"

She reached up and caressed Fuzz, causing the small creature to buzz loudly.

Crookshanks looked up from his position on the windowsill and wondered if he should go check out the sound. His people had kept him separate from the interesting thing for too long.

Ginny looked up from her plate. She was anxious to see that attention wasn't drawn to her. "Uh oh, Crookshanks alert," she said, drawing everyone's attention to the approaching kneazle.

Harry bent down and scooped up the large cat. "Oh no you don't, Crookie," he mumbled, then he tossed some bits of sausage and some scrambled eggs on a small dish and placed it on the floor before depositing Crookshanks in front of the feast.

The cat immediately forgave the limping human that smelled like his human. He tore into the dish of sausage and eggs, purring loudly.

"Crookie?" exclaimed Hermione in loud voice. "And that isn't good for him! I'm trying to get him to drop a few kilos and you're feeding him table scraps?"

Harry said nothing, trying to look innocent.

Her eyes narrowed."You've been feeding him leftovers all along!" she sent him.

"They're doing it again," Remus said with a laugh.

"Only once in a while," he protested.

"It's the strangest thing to know they are having a row and making no sound," Tonk said with a snort of laughter.

"You don't see me feeding Hedwig the way you make my cat pig out!" she huffed.

"Are you ready for today, Luna?" Remus asked.

"Even if she did pig out, at least she does something. Crookshanks just lays around," he replied.

The purring stopped as Crookshanks stopped eating and glared at Harry.

"I don't think I'll have any problems, Remus. Besides, Dray will be coming with me," Luna replied, stroking Fuzz again.

"WHAT?!"

Harry winced and looked at her reproachfully. "Let's hold this fight until later. Right now I need to stop something." he sent, then turned to Luna.

"That might not be feasible, Luna. I need Draco today at the Operations Center. Caleb, Draco, Chuck and myself will be going over the first pass of an operations plan."

Draco scowled. "Harry, I can't do that. Not today. You know how Luna will be with their questions if I'm not there..."

"I'm counting on it," Harry retorted icily. "I need you at that meeting today, Draco. Luna's a grown up, and she can answer a few simple questions without you holding her hand."

Draco's expression hardened and he stared at Harry for a moment.

Luna glanced at Harry, stood up and smiled brightly. "Well then, I better change into something more suitable for the Wizengamot," she said before she left the room.

Draco stood without a word and followed her.

The meal was finished in an uneasy silence. Few wanted to get drawn into the conflict between Harry and Draco.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm making sure Amhar learns not to mess with any of us," he replied.

"By using Luna? You know she's going to sound like she's insane when she sits in front of that committee."

"For a bit, yes. But then what she is will become apparent."

He winced a little when he felt the doubt coming over their bond in waves. He quickly finished his breakfast and left the table. Some would know his reasons, others would never understand.

He watched from the sitting room while Draco walked Luna to the door. After she left the manor, Draco turned, and spotting Harry, he walked over to talk with him.

"She explained your reasons. I don't like them, but it's very Slytherin of you," Draco said in quiet understanding.

"I don't like using her this way either, Draco. But she's the second most powerful of us and the one person people always underestimate. I want that to end," Harry replied softly.

Wizengamot Investigative Committee...

Amhar took his seat and smiled to himself. Behind the witness was a member of the Ministry's Magical Animal Control Department. He had alerted the department that they were to send a representative who would be taking a dangerous beast into custody today.

Around Amhar, the other committee members where taking their seats, chatting a little with their fellow members. He looked up when the door opened and Luna Black entered.

Luna was dressed in a simple outfit of muggle jeans and a pale blue blouse. It was one of her favorites. She wore her Brotherhood medallion around her neck, and what appeared to be a necklace made of carrots.

Amhar frowned. The girl hadn't brought the beast!

Luna sat at the small table provided for the witness and arranged a small stack of parchments in front of her. A small whirring sound came from her every so often. She divided the parchments into four small piles and put them on the table in the four cardinal compass points.

"Mrs. Black, I hate to interrupt your fascinating exercise, but it's time to begin," Amhar said snidely.

"You can begin if you want, Councilor. It is a Tuesday, after all," Luna replied, looking at the curtain skirting the edge of the table that the Councilors sat behind. She could see that the curtain was laced with Nuk-Flies.

Amhar frowned, then pulled a piece of parchment out of a folder and looked it over briefly before speaking. "You are sixteen years old, correct Mrs. Black?" he asked.

"That's correct, Mr. Councilorman. Or just over two dog years," she said dreamily.

Trenton Largo coughed and Amhar glared at him, wondering if he was laughing.

Luna shook her head, causing Fuzz to whirr loudly and she chastised herself for not paying attention.

"You're married and no longer attending school? How is that possible?" Amhar asked, leaning forward in his chair.

Luna looked up at him. "Well, there was this ceremony called a handfasting. Draco and I professed our love..."

"No, no, no. I mean, why did your father allow you to marry so young? And to leave school?" Amhar said with a hint of exasperation in his voice.

Luna giggled slightly. "Because Daddy let me. He knew I wanted Draco and had made him mine already. As for school, there was nothing more they could teach me."

Amhar smiled to himself. The girl was coming off sounding like an idiot. If she kept it up, she'd surely say something she shouldn't!

"You are married to Draco Malfoy, aren't you?" asked Amhar.

Luna looked down at her fingernails, examining them carefully.

Amhar glared at the young woman who seemed to be ignoring him.

Luna glanced up at the skirt again and shuddered. The Nuk-Flies seemed to be getting agitated.

"Mrs. Malfoy!" snapped Amhar.

Luna leapt to her feet and whipped out her wand. She scanned to room for threats. "Where? That must mean Lucius is here, too! Everyone stay down!"

Trenton buried his head in his hands and was fighting back tears. He had been briefed on Luna's abilities, and her eccentricities, but this was his first experience with her.

Amhar sat dumbfounded at Luna's behavior.

Andrew Korwin stood up. "Mrs. Black? Mrs. Black, please be seated. I can assure you that Lucius Malfoy is not here."

Luna eyed the Councilor for a moment before sitting again. She looked at Amhar and frowned. "You know, it really isn't nice to scare people like that. Someone could have gotten hurt!"

On her shoulders a pair of yellow eyes appeared and stared at Amhar. A whirring sound came from her shoulder and she reached up to calm Fuzz.

Largo coughed and reached under the table. While pretending to tie his shoes, he cast a silencing charm on himself and began to laugh.

Korwin nudged Amhar, who blinked at him in surprise before glancing down at his parchment again.

"Yes, well, moving along. Mrs. Black, what does your husband do?" Amhar asked.

"He does something with house elves for the Ministry. He's also my protector, he makes me laugh and he's fabulous in bed," she replied seriously as a blush stained her cheeks. She thought the question rather personal, but figured the committee must really need the information.

Ms. McFerrson, one of the neutrals on the committee, looked at Luna in astonishment and barked out a laugh before she could cover it. "Lucky girl," she muttered.

Largo looked to be splitting his sides and Amhar was visibly angry.

"NO! I mean, what does he do for the Ministry." Amhar demanded.

Luna shrugged her shoulders. "He does something with house elves. He's also one of Harry's friends and a unit commander in the brigade. Beyond that, I really couldn't say and wild puff babblers couldn't drag it out of me."

Amhar looked up from his writing and stared at the young woman. Was she even sane? "Where did you find the Snorkack, Mrs. Black?" he asked.

Luna relaxed back on her chair. "I didn't find her," she replied happily. "A Snorkack can't be found unless it wants to be," she added. Now this is something I can talk about, she thought. "Did you know Snorkacks have prehensile tails and an ability to apparate?" she asked.

Amhar blinked in surprise. There was something odd about her blue eyes. "Well, no," he stammered in reply. Her eyes seemed to twirl in a mesmerizing motion.

Behind Luna, the man from the Department of Magical Animal Control looked at his trap in dismay. He hadn't brought one warded for apparation!

"You should really read about them, Mr. Councilorman. They're fascinating creatures," Luna murmured.

Korwin stared at Amhar in disbelief. He had allowed the child to derail the entire course of the questioning. What is Amhar thinking? he wondered. "Mrs. Black, where did the Snorkack come from, if you didn't find it?"

Luna blushed prettily and looked up at Korwin. "Snorkacks aren't much different than we are, sir. Must I give you the little Snorkack talk?"

Ms. McFerrson covered her mouth and glanced away. Laughing uproariously, Largo had slipped off his chair and was now pretending to look for something under the table, still safely cocooned in his silencing charm.

"Mrs. Black, I believe Councilor Korwin wanted to know who found the Snorkack. If you didn't find it, who gave it to you?" one of the neutral Councilors asked, trying to clarify the question for the girl.

Luna blinked and looked at Amhar in surprise. "Oh. Why didn't you say so in the first place? Professor Hagrid caught the Snorkack eating fluxweed in one of the school greenhouses. He knew I had studied them extensively and wanted me to see it. When he arrived at the manor on Christmas day, the Snorkack decided I was a suitable human for it's needs and bonded with me. Fuzz is now my familiar," she said proudly, then she reached up and caressed the small creature as it slowly appeared on her shoulder, causing many to gape.

Amhar blinked in surprise and stared hard at that creature. "Officer!" he said, calling out to the man from Animal Control. "I demand you lock up that creature! It's a danger to us all."

Fuzz turned to watch the man stand up and she whirred menacingly at him. Luna eyed the man while she caressed her Snorkack and her eyes flashed with power.

He swallowed nervously and sat back down. "With all due respect, Councilor, I didn't bring the proper cage for a creature like this. Since it's not actively threatening anyone, I don't think it's necessary to cage it," he said timidly.

"I'm afraid I agree with the officer, Councilor," said Largo. "The creature is not threatening anyone here and I suspect Mrs. Black is capable of keeping it under control."

"She's quite safe," added Luna. "She only attacks those who threaten her or her friends."

Largo winced a little. Luna wasn't helping her case.

"Very well. The beast can stay where it is for now," snapped Amhar. "You got the beast from Professor Hagrid, but why did you take it into battle with you?"

"I didn't take Fuzz into battle, Fuzz went into battle by herself and I followed to protect her," Luna said softly. "Snorkacks are quite good in a fight, you know. In fact, a Snorkack can take on a full grown Mud Dragon and come out the victor. Did you know that?" she asked, pinning Amhar with her gaze again.

Amhar blinked. "Umm... No, I didn't know that," he replied, then he shook his head. "Mrs. Black, did you command that creature to kill Albus Dumbledore?"

"Certainly not! She did that all on her own, but I don't believe she'll do it again," Luna offered.

Largo leaned forward on his chair. "What makes you think that, Mrs. Black?"

Luna placed a hand on her chest. "Because I had to give her a bath afterwards. All the world knows Snorkacks hate water. She now knows that killing results in a bath. I'm sure next time she'll just maim and rip limbs off."

Amhar began to shake and his face turned bright red with anger. Since her arrival, the child had made a mockery of him and his committee! His hands curled into claws as he visualized wrapping them around her small neck and choking the life from her.

Seeing his condition and understanding it's cause, two more members of the committee discovered Largo's excellent silencing charm.

"Mrs. Black, are you aware that a Snorkack is a protected species? And as such, you are not allowed to keep them as a pet?" asked Amhar through gritted teeth.

"Councilorman, I already told you, Fuzz is not a pet. She is my bound familiar, like Albus Dumbledore's phoenix, Fawkes, although Fawkes did abandon him. Maybe a better example would be that Veela you wanted to bind as your familiar when you were sixteen. You begged your parents for weeks, didn't you?" Luna asked, tilting her head slightly as she watched Largo bite his fist under the table.

Several of the committee members burst out laughing and Amhar started to sputter in rage. He stood and his chair crashed to the floor behind him.

"That's it!" he declared. "I refuse to allow you to make a mockery of these proceeding. Officer, I order you to take that dangerous creature into custody. I want it put down by tonight," Amhar said angrily, pointing at Luna.

Luna's expression changed and the vagueness in her eyes flashed into sharp awareness. She stood slowly and a green aura surrounded her.

The man from animal control took one look at her and knew instantly what he was seeing. He backed off under her unflinching gaze. "Councilor, I humbly submit my resignation. I catch stray Kneazles and Puffskiens, maybe the odd Plimpy or Porlock. This is out of my league," the man said. Turning suddenly, he dashed from the room.

Luna turned to face the committee. As she did, a series of popping sounds were heard as all sorts of strange creatures flashed into existence. On the table in front of her appeared a short man with a horn protruding from his forehead. He wore a bright yellow vest, but no pants. He glanced at Luna and backed away slightly from the angry witch. Then he whirled around and faced the source of her anger.

Trenton Largo canceled the silencing charm and scrambled out from under the table. Running to Luna's side, he spoke calmly and quietly to her, trying to calm her.

Amhar ducked under the table when one of the new creatures jumped onto the committee table. It looked like a cross between a rabbit and an Acromantula. It's eight legs and long ears gave it superb balance and hearing. The creature, a Bider, would have been cute, if not for its four inch fangs and eight eyes.

Luna blinked and turned to look at Councilor Largo. When she did, the creatures started to vanish one at a time.

"Mrs. Black, you must calm down. No one is going to hurt your familiar. The international rules of wizardry make it illegal for one wizard to harm another's familiar," Largo told her seriously.

Luna blinked again and her aura faded.

Amhar peeked out from under the table, just in time for the little horned man in the vest to make a crude gesture to him. With a rude sound, he, too, vanished.

"Really? You're not going to take Fuzz away from me?" she asked.

"No, we're not taking Fuzz away. I think we're finished today, Mrs. Black. Thank you for answering our questions. You're free to leave now," he said softly, then smiled at the girl.

She nodded and smiled prettily at him before turning and walking out.

Amhar stood and placed both hands flat on the table to glare at Largo. It was then that he discovered the Bider had left a foul smelling present on the table and he had placed his hand in the middle of it.

"What is the meaning of this, Largo? That girl was here for a reason and that creature is dangerous!" he snapped, shaking his hand furiously and spraying his papers with the Bider's gift.

Largo stared up at the man for a moment, shaking his head. "You know, Amhar, this committee of yours has been a farce from day one. You should be thanking me about now. In case you didn't know it, I just saved your life. Mrs. Black is a Child of Gaia and probably the third most powerful magical human on the planet, right after Voldemort and Harry Potter. She is undoubtedly the most powerful witch in the world the planet and you're threatening her familiar? Just how many pieces do you want to be buried in?"

"You have no authority to seize her familiar, Councilor," said Lillias McFerrson as she stood up. "I believe it's time for us to close this committee and prepare our report to the Wizengamot. We have accomplished little and it's turning into a witch hunt!"

Amhar stood. "This is insane. We haven't heard from any of the principles in this. We haven't heard from Mrs. Potter, or her parents. We can't give up when we're getting so close!"

"Close? Close to what, Councilor? Just what do you think will happen if you drag Lady Potter or her parents before this committee? I'll tell you what will happen. Harry Potter will shut you down and quite possibly withdraw funding for the Wizengamot!" exclaimed McFerrson.

"You have a vendetta against Potter and I don't really want to be a part of it, Amhar," said Largo. "The only reason why you aren't a smear on the grounds of Haven is that Lord Potter is busy fighting the war and trying to ignore the damage you have been doing to the war effort."

Amhar stood sputtering, too enraged to form coherent words.

"Friends, I think we should take a short recess for a few days and let tempers cool down. Perhaps we have gotten a little off track here. After a few days off we can meet again to discuss how we can refocus our efforts," Korwin said placatingly.

"Fine, we'll recess for a week and meet back here on the eighteenth!" Amhar snarled, then he gathered up his papers and stormed from the room, wiping one hand on his pants.

Author's Notes:

Bob looked up and wondered why Alyx was wearing a Hockey goalie mask and carried a shovel.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"It's time for the Author's notes. I want to be prepared this time. Last time the readers got angry with us," she replied.

"Yeah, but this chapter is different. It's got everything in it. What can they find to complain about?" asked a confused Bob.

"Did you include anything about a kitchen sink in this chapter?" Alyx demanded to know.

"Well... um... no," Bob answered uncertainly.

"See! It doesn't have everything in it! They now will have a reason to complain," Alyx answered smugly.

Bob sighed and turned back to the author's notes.

We had to ask Dilly about the complaint about her speech, and here is her reply. "Dilly do be thinking that Rebel Goddess do be to picky. But if she do be interviewing other house elves and finding they do be using the word 'do' less, then Dilly do be using it less too! Dilly do be a good house elf no matter what Rebel Goddess do be saying"

There, you have it from the source. Dilly likes the word 'do'.

Bimalc: As to our knowledge of UK Geography... heh, it's called the Internet and a system called multimap.com

Muirnin: No, this year we are not attempting to do the nanomowrithingie.

Crys: Sir Basil is not related to Clancy's Sir Basil. Our Sir Basil might as well have been Sir Pepper, Sir Paprika or Sir Parsnip... I hate thinking up names. The sheepish pun was something Alyx threw in. I saw it during the final read through and left it in because I thought it wasn't baaaaaad.

John: The Blood Jihad and the Iron Wand aren't thinking that far ahead. They expect that Voldemort will ultimately tear down the ward and allow them to boil out of Britain.

Harry's leg will continue to be an issue with him. Face it folks. As good as Wizarding medicine might be, it can't fix everything. Harry is coming to learn that there will be limitations, such as avoiding portkeys. Now that also doesn't mean he can't fight or duel. We mentioned quite a few chapters ago that Eocho knew spells that would return the leg to nearly normal mobility for limited durations. And for a heavy price, which is why you haven't seen him use those spells yet.

The arch was a plot device we invented for the last chapter. It probably won't be seen again.

And for those wanting to know, Snorkacks are covered in seventh year Care of Magical Creatures, which none of our heroes attended. Don't blame us if you slept through that class!

And now... BLOOPERS!!!

You are my heir little loin, whatever way it has come to pass.

Sheesh... what can we say about this?

"Oh so the world revolves around the great James Potter!" Harry retorted ignoring the calls from his friends to shit down and be quiet.

Just out of curiosity, but is it possible to shit up? And is that optional?

Hermione had to admit that Harry looked adorable that morning as his glasses weren’t quite on straight and his hair was stinking up even more than normal.

Harry, wash that hair. If it stinks enough for people to notice it... ewwww.

One of the fowl specters swept up to Harry.

Here is a dementor attack that was written by the Great Gonzo.

After Hermione nodded in the affirmative, Harry started by kissing her passionately, he then trailed kisses down her chin, her neck, passed her color-bone, until he reached the valley between Hermione’s breasts.

Obviously this writer is a med student drop out.

Back to:: Harry Potter » Sunrise Over Britain

Sunrise Over Britain
Chapter 22 - Pregnancy, Snorkacks and Luna rocks

By Bobmin

Sunrise Over Britain Chapter 22 - Pregnancy, Snorkacks and Luna rocks

By Bobmin

Sunrise Over Britain
Chapter 22 - Pregnancy, Snorkacks and Luna rocks