Sunrise Over Britain
Chapter 3 - Weasleys Woes
By Bobmin
Standard Disclaimer:
The curtain opened to reveal a empty stage with a white backdrop. From the left wing entered Hermione Granger, Harry Potter and Severus Snape. Snape was being forced, at wand point to the center of the stage.
Harry poked the Snape in the head with his wand.
"Say the words Snape," Harry hissed angrily.
"Thats Professor Snape, Harry," Hermione said seriously. Harry shot her a glare, then nodded reluctantly.
"Say the words, Professor Snape," Harry said to appease his primary source of nookie in this story.
Severus Snape, Potions master, Spy and all around winner of Witch Weeklys Git of the Year for the past eight years running, grimaced.
"The people writing this story... ahem they think they are authors, but I know they are simple Rowling wannabes. Anyway the losers typing this stuff insist that I tell you they make no claim to any sort of ownership to Harry Potter or the characters created by JK Rowling. There, now I've said it. Can I go now?" asked Snape in a whiny voice.
"No. Kneel!" snarled Hermione.
Snape blinked in surprise and fell to his knees. From the right wing two people walked onto the stage and walked over to Harry, Hermione and Snape.
Harry and Hermione exchanged a startled glance and quickly covered their ears as Alanis Morrisette opened her mouth and roared. Snape's head exploded in a fountain of gore, blood and bone.
God giggled and started to skip around the stage while Metatron looked down at the mess that was his outfit.
"OH Really! Was that necessary? He whined to God.
Hermione snickered and waved her wand cleaning Metatron's clothing. He shot her a grateful look and followed God off the stage.
"Did you notice that metatron looked a lot like snape?" asked Bob.
"I'm not going to answer that question," grumbled Alyx.
Chapter 3
Haven, Ireland (May 1st, mid morning)…
Melinda McKinny’s eyes popped open as the banging on the front door of the cottage finally penetrated. She glanced at the window and groaned. Morning had apparently arrived and she wasn’t well pleased by that fact. Her head felt as though it had been stuffed with cotton and her eyes felt as though someone had dumped a beach’s worth of sand in them.
Rolling out of bed, she grimaced when she realized she’d fallen asleep in her clothes. Not that she’d had much choice, she reminded herself. It wasn’t as if she’d packed for a holiday. Trying to tame her unruly hair, she shuffled towards the front door with the vague thought of searing the ears of whoever decided it was time for her to wake up.
Grasping the knob and jerking the door open, she opened her mouth to begin her rant, but paused. Before her stood a short, round woman who looked somewhat familiar. With a frown, she raised one questioning eyebrow and croaked, "Yes?"
"You’re awake! Poor dear, you really should get more rest," the woman before her exclaimed, her eyes bright.
"Ahh, well…"
"I’m not sure if you remember me. You were rather dazed last night, but that doesn’t matter. Sleep will help clear the cobwebs. Now, my name is Olga Johansen…"
"You’re the woman who took in the children," Melinda blurted as the memories from the night before snapped into focus.
Olga beamed. "Yes! Poor babies! But don’t you worry. They’re settling in nicely, they are. We were a little crowded last night, but we managed. And now that nice Mr. Lupin has had a house built for us all. Oh, such a beautiful house!"
"No, mama. Harry Potter had the house built," a young woman Melinda hadn’t noticed before said.
Looking around Olga, Melinda spotted the girl…and her twin…standing a few feet behind their mother. Their arms were loaded with what looked to be clothing. And now that she was awake enough to notice such details, she realized that Mrs. Johansen’s arms were also full.
Seeing the direction of her gaze, Olga introduced her two daughters. "We know you didn’t have time to think about such things last night, but we’re here to help you get settled in. We’ve brought you some clothing I think may do for now, and some food. You need to eat, girl. Much to skinny," Olga proclaimed, gently pushing her way into the cottage. "Helga, Inga, put those clothes in the bedroom for Mrs. McKinny to go through later. You dear," she continued, turning to face Melinda with a smile, "can show me where to put the food and such. Oh, what a lovely cottage!"
As Mrs. Johansen continued to prattle on, Melinda shook her head, a bit dazed. She was dumbfounded by this woman’s generosity. And if she was also a little pushy, who was she to complain? Running a hand though her disheveled hair, she followed Olga into the kitchen. When she was pushed into a chair and told to rest, she didn’t resist.
"How are the children?" she asked, as the older woman paused to take a breath.
"Oh, such sweet babies! It will take some time, yes? The poor dears have had it rough, as have you, girl. But do not be worrying. Haven is a safe place, and the children are loved and cared for. Oh, Sven and I love children…"
Melinda could only shake her head as the woman continued to speak about the children and how happy she was to have them with her. With the food stuffs put away, Olga began pulling pots and pans out of another bag and putting them away. Once done, she began to fix breakfast, explaining that Melinda had missed the meal served at the community kitchen and what a shame that was, since she obviously need several good meals to fatten her up.
Melinda leaned back in her chair and did the only thing she could. She began to grin, then to chuckle.
Hearing the sound, Olga turned and beamed at her. "Ah, there it is! I knew laughter lurked in you somewhere, girl. No one so young can be that serious all the time. Oh, good! Helga, Inga, help me with the breakfast. Mrs. McKinny needs a good meal to start the day."
"It’s Melinda, and I don’t know how to thank you, all of you." Melinda smiled at the Johansen women and watched as all three flushed in pleasure.
"Then you must call me Olga. And there is no need for thanks. We are a community now. We take care of our own, yes? But tell me, if you are Mrs. McKinny, were is your Mr. McKinny?" Olga frowned when she saw the flash of pain in Melinda’s eyes. "Ah, I see. Inga, Helga? Go on home now and find out if Papa has started planting the land Mr. Potter has given him."
"Yes, mama," the twins replied.
Only after the front door had closed did Olga go to Melinda. Sitting beside the younger woman, she took her hands and gave them a gentle squeeze. "You are grieving for your husband, yes?"
When Melinda nodded jerkily, her eyes beginning to fill with tears, Olga own eyes blurred. "Oh, my girl," she exclaimed softly, her heart aching for her loss. Gathering her close, she rocked Melinda slowly, letting her cry. "It is best to mourn those who have been taking from us. They deserve that much from us, and so much more. Poor dear."
"I found him," Melinda said, her voice muffled against Olga’s shoulder and her body shuddering at the memory. "He’d been out trying to find food and water for the children. The Death Eaters must have caught him. He was lying in a filthy ally, the food he’d managed to collect beside him. Oh, Gods! I had to bury my husband!" She tightened her grip around the older woman’s sturdy frame and let the anguish wash over her.
As the girl sobbed out her heartache, Olga could only imagine her grief and horror. Sven was by no means a perfect man, but he was a perfect husband, or near enough. She could not imagine life without him.
Many long minutes had passed before Melinda was able to pull herself together enough to release Olga and sit back. She smiled weakly when the older woman produced a handkerchief and gave it to her. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice gone hoarse.
"You needed this, yes? Denying our emotions only makes us feel worse. The horror of what you have gone through will be with you for a long time, my girl. But you need to speak of such things, share them with others. Many here have stories like yours and can help you, if you’ll let them. In time, you will come to celebrate his life, rather than mourn his death, yes? Life is like this. Your husband was a good and brave man. Keep his memory close to your heart, my dear, but never forget that you are still alive, as he would have wanted, and that you have much to offer those around you, hmm?" She patted Melinda’s hand and smiled.
"Now, a meal to fuel the body and mind! And some tea, yes?" Olga stood, brushed the hair back from Melinda’s face and kissed her forehead. "Life will get better, girl. Just give it a chance. Oh, do you like eggs? Scrambled eggs with toast will be filling…"
As Mrs. Johansen bustled back to the stove to begin the meal, Melinda took a deep breath and realized she felt a bit lighter. Perhaps Olga had the right of it. Speaking about Michael had helped.
Padfoot Manor, Lunchtime (May 1st)…
Harry looked at Remus, Tonks, Dan and Emma and smiled. He had sent Hermione on an errand earlier and expected her to be out of the Manor house for several hours.
"Dan, Emma…," Harry began hesitantly. "I’d like to talk to you both about Hermione."
Emma placed a restraining hand on Dan and studied Harry for a moment. "What would you like to talk about, dear?"
Harry looked down at the table for a moment. Why was this suddenly so damn hard to do?
"We… that is I…" Harry began, then he stopped and glared at Remus and Tonks, who were both chuckling at his discomfort.
He drew himself up to his full height and faced his girlfriend’s parents, ignoring the chuckling duo. "I love your daughter and I mean to ask her to marry me. I know we’re well past the age of a man asking for permission, but I would like your blessing and your help," he said in a rush.
Dan looked at Harry, a bit disappointed. Then, reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a ten pound note and handed it to Emma, who accepted it smugly.
"Harry dear, I don’t understand why you need our help. It’s up to you to ask Hermione. I dare say my husband and I approve whole heartedly, but it’s still your job to ask her," Emma said with a smile.
"Oh, I know, Mrs. Granger," Harry replied, suddenly very nervous again. "My problem isn’t with asking her, it’s with picking out the ring. You see, I had hoped my parent’s rings might have been put in my vault, so I asked the Goblins to remove all possible wedding and engagement rings from the vaults, check them for curses and send them to me."
Harry held up a hefty little bag. "This contains nearly fifty engagement rings, some of which look to be hundreds of years old…maybe older. Unfortunately, my parents rings weren’t included."
"No, they wouldn’t be. James and Lils were buried with their rings, Harry. I’m sorry. No one thought that someday you might want them," Remus offered softly.
"It’s alright, Remus. I wanted to have the option open to me, and having their rings would have been a nice keepsake, but they should have kept them. It’s fitting," he said softly.
With a mental shake, Harry opened the draw string and up ended the bag of rings onto the table. Then he looked at Emma. "What I need is help figuring out which one I should offer her. Or which ones would she like to choose from. Should I offer her one, or give her a choice?"
Dan’s eyes widened as he looked over the pile of rings. Some contained modest stones in classical settings, others were monstrous, garish settings with stones as big as ice cubes.
Dan and Remus were in favor of Harry picking one ring and offering it to Hermione. Harry was undecided about the issue, but thought a choice was important, and both Tonks and Emma agreed with him. Between them, Harry winnowed the choice of rings down to the ten rings Emma said she liked. She and Tonks then conferred for a bit longer before agreeing on the selection. Harry nodded in relief, then placed the ten rings into a special bag. The others he gave to Dobby, who would see they got returned to his vault in Gringotts.
He placed the rings in his pocket for later and stood to leave when a thought occurred to him. "Remus, when this mess is over and we can go home, I want you to show me where my parents are buried. I think it’s well past the time when I should be allowed to meet them."
"I’m sorry, Harry. I should have taken you last summer," Remus replied.
Harry smiled at him. "No, it’s alright Remus. We had a lot to worry about and my parents would have understood. Besides, I like to think they’re watching you and Tonks both. Happy and pleased… Sirius too." He then slipped quietly from the room.
Remus blinked in surprise and Tonks started to sniffle. Even Emma looked misty eyed.
Haven School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Library…
Hermione looked up at what she was quickly coming to consider her library. The architects had done a wonderful job in making it. It was warm and inviting while still maintaining an air as a place of learning and reading.
She was looking up Dementors and their history. Harry was right about one thing. Something wasn’t quite right about Dementors. They just appeared on the scene some two thousand or more years ago. There was no record of them prior to that.
Flipping open a book, she began taking notes. The first reference to Dementors came from an account written by Tacitus, the Roman historian who witnessed the uprising of Britain’s first female hero, Boudicca, in sixty A.D..
...Meanwhile, without any evident cause, the statue of Victory at Camulodunum fell prostrate and turned its back to the enemy, as though it fled before them. Women excited to frenzy prophesied impending destruction; ravings in a strange tongue, it was said, were heard in their Senate-house; their theatre resounded with wailings, and in the estuary of the Tamesa had been seen the appearance of an overthrown town; even the ocean had worn the aspect of blood, and, when the tide ebbed, there had been left the likenesses of human forms, marvels interpreted by the Britons, as hopeful, by the veterans, as alarming. But as Suetonius was far away, they implored aid from the procurator, Catus Decianus. All he did was to send two hundred men, and no more, without regular arms, and there was in the place but a small military force. Trusting to the protection of the temple, hindered too by secret accomplices in the revolt, who embarrassed their plans, they had constructed neither fosse nor rampart; nor had they removed their old men and women, leaving their youth alone to face the foe. Surprised, as it were, in the midst of peace, they were surrounded by an immense host of the barbarians. All else was plundered or fired in the onslaught; the temple where the soldiers had assembled, was stormed after a two days' siege. During the siege, Boudicca did curse those within calling down the wrath of her pagan gods. The victorious enemy met Petilius Cerialis, commander of the ninth legion, as he was coming to the rescue, routed his troops, and destroyed all his infantry by means of a strange cloaked pestilence that brought men low in their prime. Cerialis escaped with some cavalry…
Hermione paused and looked up from her notes, her expression thoughtful. Boudicca was an Iceni queen and Druid priestess. That meant, if Hermione had done her research properly, that she was a witch of considerable power. Her daughters had been raped and she had been scourged by the Romans, despite being allied to them and, as a result, had raised an army in rebellion against Rome. If Boudicca had cursed the Romans defending the town, then it was possible that she had somehow created the dementors, using magic known to the druids of the time.
The Patronus charm came hundreds of years later after, the Wizarding world learned enough about the dementors. Druid magic was lost not long after Boudicca’s rebellion was put down, as Christianity followed on the heels of the Roman invasion.
Hermione turned back to her notes and reached for another book from the pile she had built around herself.
International Apparation Point, Calais, France…
Charlie appeared in the small building used by the French Ministry of Magic as an apparation control point for international travel. Wizards entering or leaving the country were required by law to stop and check with customs before continuing on with their journey.
Charlie reached for his British passport and handed them to the clerk.
"Bon jour," said the bored clerk flipping through the passport.
"Hello"
The clerk looked up at Charlie. "Destination?" he asked sharply in response to Charlie’s accent.
Charlie sighed. "I’m not sure. I have family still in England, but most are in Ireland."
"Monsieur, if you go on to England, you may not be allowed to leave again. We have reports of Wizards and Witches being sent to camps. We cannot be held responsible for you if you run into trouble, nor will anyone come to your assistance."
Charlie nodded, then looked shocked as the clerk pulled him aside.
"Monsieur, if you must do this, then do not use magic. We know the Dark Lord’s men are tracking people who use their magic. Avoid popular spots like Hogsmeade, Diagon Alley and the key apparation points. If you find your family, take them and get out right away."
The man then pressed a small key into his hand. "This is an emergency portkey back to the apparation point here in Calais. I have to tell you that no one that we’ve given these to has managed to use it as yet. I, myself, have seen twenty Briton’s looking for family and none have returned once they left this place."
Charlie accepted the key gratefully. "I have to try, they are my family."
"Yes, I understand, my friend. All I can tell you is to be careful. It is not safe," replied the clerk.
Something about the man’s attitude made Charlie uneasy. He could have apparated directly to the Burrow, but opted for a two hop jump instead. Normally, in better times, it would have been a two hop jump anyway, first to Dover and the international customs point there, then to the Burrow. Charlie decided to make a detour. He would go to Hythe first, then on to the Burrow. He had once dated a muggle girl who lived in Hythe, so apparating there would not cause a problem.
He took his passport back from the clerk and shouldered his rucksack again. With a nod to the clerk, Charlie vanished with a loud pop.
Haven Operations Center, Planning Office…
Miles looked up and smiled as Caleb entered the office, followed a moment later by Draco and Tobby.
"Gentlemen!" Miles said, waving them to seats. Tobby looked at Miles in surprise when he spotted a chair tailored to his size.
Miles waved a slip of parchment in front of the three of them. "First off, Kudos to both the human and elf teams last night for making the mission a success. Both Harry and Amelia are very pleased with the results and ask that you thank your teammates accordingly."
He stood then and faced them. "However, one success doesn’t mean we know what we’re doing. Starting tomorrow, I want to see the extraction teams and the elf teams begin practicing in joint exercises. I want the two groups to work flawlessly together!"
Miles placed both hands on his desk and leaned across it, grinning. "We got very lucky last night, very lucky indeed, and pulled off a miracle. Personally, I like it when our bosses think we can perform miracles, but we all know that only comes from training and more training. Am I clear about this?"
Caleb, Draco and Tobby nodded. Caleb was used to Miles’ gruff manner and he had nothing against training. Draco and Tobby, on the other hand, were entirely different issues.
"Black!" barked Miles.
"Sir?" squeaked Draco, who had been visualizing a wonderful fantasy that involved Harry and a red hot poker for getting him into this mess.
"In the mornings you will work with me to train your Elves. You’ll work alongside them. In the afternoons, you’ll attend classes here at the center in intelligence methods and operation planning.
"Let me make myself clear, gentlemen. In a few weeks time I expect our forces will increase as the other Magical Governments start sending their troops to help us. Amelia is already working out those details with the other governments. When they arrive, I want us to shine. Is that understood?"
Caleb, Draco and Tobby nodded once more.
Miles sat down again and leaned back in his chair. He had patted them on the back, then told them they would have to work harder. They were up to the challenge. He was sure of it.
"Excellent. Now let’s start by critiquing last night’s mission. Caleb? Why don’t you go first?"
Caleb leaned forward. "Well, we need more passive equipment. Things that perform magical functions, but won’t trigger the detectors. The kids were hiding out in a church and, because we couldn’t see inside, I opened the door and nearly got my head blown off by Mrs. McKinny’s wand. If we had something that showed where the people were in the building, it would have saved us the problem."
Miles nodded and took notes. Going over the missions like this often led to discovering the need for new equipment. He looked up from his notes to see that Draco was also taking notes as Caleb spoke. Miles nodded approvingly.
The Town of Hythe…
Charlie appeared in a secluded area of a park. Most of the town was hidden from view and he didn’t waste any time. He reached into his pocket and threw the key the clerk had given him to the ground.
He watched the small key lying in the dirt and listened anxiously for the sound of apparating Wizards. Something about the key and the clerk who’d given it to him struck him oddly. He wasn’t sure what it was, only that it was wrong. He stepped a few feet away from the key and took up position behind a tree.
He tensed and crouched with his wand out when the key made a buzzing sound for a moment and then vanished, leaving only it’s imprint in the dirt. He relaxed slowly as he realized the key must have been a time delayed portkey, perhaps with a stunning spell thrown into the mix. He seriously doubted that it would have returned him to France.
Stepping out from behind the tree, he visualized a spot in Ottery St. Catchpole. Given the conditions he was seeing, even from here, apparating directly home seemed like a bad idea.
He vanished with a small pop.
Haven, Ireland…
Buckling her sandals, Melinda stood and ran her hands over the soft sun dress she’d chosen from the clothing the Johansen’s had brought her. It fit well, though the sandals were a bit large. She glanced in the small mirror next to the dresser in her bedroom, shrugged at her reflection and figured the clothing would do. Then she grinned, raised her arms and twirled around. It felt glorious to finally be clean!
Her talk with Olga, a good meal and a long, hot shower had done wonders for her mood. As did the knowledge that the children were safe, well cared for and loved.
When the knock came at the door of the cottage, a small frown played over her face. She wasn’t expecting anyone. Then again, she hadn’t been expecting Olga and her daughters either, and that had worked out well.
Leaving the bedroom and moving through the small living room, she once again reached for the knob and opened the door. Her brows rose in surprise at the sight before her.
Arthur Weasley smiled down at her and shifted the bags he held in his arms. "Good afternoon, Mrs. McKinny."
"It’s Melinda," she replied absently, unsure why a Ministry employee was standing on her doorstep. "Can I help you, Mr. Weasley?"
"Right, Melinda. I’ll remember. I’m Arthur," he said, smiling.
"Arthur," she repeated, smiling back. When he continued to stare at her, saying nothing, she fidgeted. "Is there something I can do for you, Arthur?"
He jerked once and flushed. "Oh, right. Yes. Umm, I’ve brought you some clothing. And food. Yes, mustn’t forget that. The cottage was furnished, but with all that happened last night, we’d forgotten that you’d need clothing and such," he rambled.
"That’s very kind of you, sir," she began.
"Arthur."
"That’s very kind of you, Arthur, but Mrs. Johansen has already brought me those things." When his shoulders drooped, she rushed on. "Thank you for thinking of me. And I’m sure everything will come in handy. Many of the clothes Olga brought don’t fit, you see." Realizing she was beginning to babble, she closed her mouth and took a step back. "Would you like to come in?"
"Come in? Oh, no, that wouldn’t be proper, would it?" he asked, he facing flushing once more.
"Proper?" she asked blankly.
"Yes. After all, you’re a woman living alone and…well…" He shrugged, trailing off.
"Right," she said, frowning. "Well, I’m sure you’re busy and I don’t want to hold you up any longer." She broke off as peels of laughter rang out from down the street.
Turning, she smiled, seeing two sets of twins, one blond, and the other red haired, walking down the street towards them. The red heads, both boys, were conjuring bubbles and filling them with butterflies, while the blonds, the Johansen twins, laughed in delight.
Arthur’s eyes widened at the sight of his children’s approach. He shifted nervously, hitched the bags up once more and nearly bowled her over as he entered the cottage. "Tea would be lovely," he blurted.
She stumbled back and nearly laughed when he dropped his bags and tried to steady her. "Tea?" she asked, a bit breathless by the change in his demeanor.
"Yes, thank you," he said, holding her arm in one hand and closing the door quickly with the other.
"All right, tea it is." She stood, waiting for him to release her arm.
Arthur smiled at her and waited. When she didn’t move, he grew concerned. "Are you alright?"
"I’m fine," she told him.
"Do you not want tea?" he asked.
"Tea would be lovely."
"Yes, it would." He waited, growing puzzled when she didn’t move. "Are you sure you’re alright?"
"Perfectly. I’m simply waiting for you to release me," she told him, trying not to grin.
"Oh! Right. Sorry about that." He jerked his hand away from her so fast he nearly stumbled backwards.
She couldn’t help it. She laughed. When he blushed furiously, she laughed harder. "I’m sorry, Arthur. I meant to put you at ease and here I am laughing. Forgive me. Let me put the tea on and we can talk."
"Talk, yes. Good." He raked a hand through his thinning hair and sighed heavily. Why was this so hard?
"Relax. I don’t bite," she told him, walking towards the kitchen.
Bite? He never thought she would. Not really. Though now that she mentioned it, the thought of her biting him sent his mind spinning. Stop it, he ordered himself as he picked up the bags he’d dropped and followed her into the kitchen. You’re not a teenager anymore. Stop acting like one!
Half an hour later, seated at the kitchen table sipping tea, Arthur was winding up his explanation about Haven and how it had come to be. "You and the children will be safe here, Melinda. The Johansen’s will take good care of them and, if you’re willing, perhaps we could find something for you to do."
"I was going to ask you about that. I’m a fully trained Healer, but I volunteered at the orphanage, as we lived next door. I worked for a small company that supplied potions and ingredients to apothecary shops."
"Then you can brew potions?" he asked.
"Yes. I gained my Healing mastery in Spain, and potions was a required subject."
"I see. Well, the hospital will be lucky to have you! They’re short on brewers, you see." He cocked his head then, gazing at her for a moment. "Melinda, I don’t mean to pry but…" He paused, unsure how to ask his next question.
"No, please. What is it?"
"You said ‘we lived next door’. Do you mean you and your husband?"
"Yes. Michael and I were renting the house next to the orphanage."
"As I said, I don’t mean to pry, but Mr. Pickerton will need to know. Should we be looking for your husband?"
"No," she told him, closing her eyes briefly. "He was killed. A few days before Auror Newman and his team found the children and me."
"I see. I’m sorry, Melinda. I didn’t mean to cause you pain," he said softly, his voice full of regret…and understanding.
"It’s alright. I spoke to Olga about it this morning and it seemed to help. He’s gone, and I need to learn to accept it."
"Accept? Yes, I suppose so. But it doesn’t mean we forget."
She looked at him then. Really looked. His eyes were darkened by sorrow and… was that grief? "You’ve lost someone as well." It wasn’t a question.
"Yes. My son… my wife… it’s complicated," he murmured, looking through her and thinking of Ron and Molly. He’d divorced her, disowned his son. He closed his eyes, feeling guilt wash over him. Perhaps if he’d only tried harder… His eyes flickered open, surprised when she touched his hand gently.
"I’m sorry," she told him.
"We all have wounds, Melinda. No one escaped unscathed."
As silence descended on the cottage, each was lost to the past. The spell was broken only when the sound of laughing children poured in through the open kitchen window.
Arthur stood abruptly and smiled. "Well, you should be set now. I’ll speak with the healers today. You should be hearing from them soon."
"Thank you," she said, standing and walking with him to the door. "For everything, I mean."
"You’re welcome. If you need anything, come to the Manor and ask. Remus Lupin should be able to help you. Or you can call on me."
"I will. Good day, Arthur."
He opened the door and glanced out quickly, looking for his sons. When he didn’t see them, he stepped out. Turning a bit, he smiled back at her, said a hasty farewell and walked quickly down the street, intent on returning to Padfoot.
Melinda watched him for a moment, shook her head at his sudden odd behavior and shrugged. Closing the door, she leaned against it and sighed. Odd man, she thought. Attractive, in a rumpled sort of way, means well, but odd.
Dover, International Arrival Point…
Four Death Eaters stood facing the arrival point, wands held ready when the small chime sounded.
"Another incoming arrival," chuckled one to the general amusement of the others.
There was a popping sound and a tall dark haired man appeared.
"Stupefy!" shouted three Death Eaters, hitting the man before he had time to react.
The man went down hard and the fourth Death Eater searched him, relieving him of his wand and other valuables.
"Check his name to see if he’s on the list of recruits being sent. Barcelona was supposed to be sending us ten men today."
When a second pinging sound was heard, three of the men pivoted to cover a roped off area.
"Incoming present from Claude," chuckled one.
"Busy day today. The boss likes that." offered another.
They all blinked as a key appeared in the center of the roped off area. The Death Eater standing in the doorway frowned and walked over to it. He stooped down and picked it up, examining it carefully.
"It’s one of Claude’s portkeys alright. Alert the capture squads. We have a runner, from the look of it. He must of apparated nearby and then discarded the key. If he had arrived inland, he would have triggered the stunner."
"Do we have a signature off the key?" asked another.
"No, it wasn’t in the runner’s possession long enough for it to register."
"What about Claude? Has he been burned?"
"I don’t think so. No, this runner is on our side of the water now. The capture squads will find him. They always go for their wands. When they do, we find them," said the leader.
"Hey! I heard one of them complaining last night about the detectors acting up."
"Enough of that," barked the leader. "Let’s process this guy and get him up to camp one."
Padfoot Manor…
Harry, Remus and Hermione sat in the main library waiting for their friends to file in.
It had been an irritating day for Harry. He had spent most of it trying to figure out how to broach the subject of the Brotherhood with everyone and had yet to come up with any good ideas.
He looked up from the book he was nervously flipping through as people began to file into the library and take seats. Along with the Outcasts, Hermione’s parents and Remus and Tonks, he had also invited Arthur, Minerva and Narcissa as advisers.
Harry stood and waited for the idle chatter to simmer down before he spoke. "I want to thank everyone for coming tonight. What I am about to say involves the following people: Hermione, Draco, Luna, Neville, Ginny, Susan, Terry and myself. It also concerns Remus, Tonks, Dan and Emma. The rest of you are here tonight because we value your advice and hope you’ll be able to help us make an important decision."
He glanced from face to face as the seriousness of his tone was absorbed by those in the room.
"Back at the beginning of the school year, the sorting hat issued a prophecy that included a reference to a Brotherhood. Since that initial prophecy, there has been a second prophecy, given by Hermione, which also referenced a Brotherhood.
"When we first heard the sorting hat’s song, we asked Remus to begin research on the only Brotherhood we knew anything about, the Brotherhood of Druidic Knights. Remus, with help from Hermione, Tonks and even Luna, has been rather successful in discovering information about what they were all about. I will turn this over to Remus so he can explain some of what he’s discovered."
As Harry sat down next to Hermione, Remus stood to face everyone and smiled nervously. "It’s ironic that what started out as little more than a joke, a ruse to confuse the Order of the Phoenix, turned out to be something far more significant.
"The true age of the Brotherhood of the Druidic Knights is not fully known. Druids were not normally known for keeping records, but we have fragments of records which suggest the Brotherhood existed as early as one thousand B.C.. What we do know is they were a group of individuals dedicated to the preservation of the peace and to upholding what they saw as the law. They were firm believers in a ‘live and let live’ creed. They were also brutally efficient at putting down others who tried to impose their will on society.
"The Brotherhood finally died out just over fifteen hundred years ago, nearly five hundred years before the four founders laid the first stone of Hogwarts. We’ve managed to obtain the journal of the last surviving member of the Brotherhood. In it he reveals some interesting facts.
"The Brotherhood is led by the Maglios. This person is selected either by the existing Maglios or by their guiding spirit. In the past there were periods when the Brotherhood died out because it wasn’t needed. They took such periods into account by imbuing the knowledge and lore of their group into a guiding spirit. The spirit would lie dormant until such time as it was awakened by a group of worthy supplicants.
"The guiding spirit would then instruct the supplicants in the magics of the Brotherhood, which were, by all accounts, formidable. The journal we have in our possession explains the process of awakening the guardian and details some of the many benefits gifted to those deemed worthy. What the journal doesn’t detail is what happens to those it feels are unworthy…"
Remus sat on that final note and looked at Harry.
Harry stood with a chuckle. "The look that Remus just sent me says I get to give you all the bad news," he told them as his smile became a grimace.
"There are two pieces of bad news. The first is, as Remus mentioned, a test of some kind, which everyone will have to undergo. We do not know what happens to those who do not pass the test. The second piece of bad news is perhaps more disturbing. This is an ancient rite. As such, it must be conducted under a unique set of circumstances and we do not think we can safely alter the rite in any way. In the case of this particular rite, it’s performed outside, in a sacred druid location, and is performed without the benefit of clothing. In other words, if we do this, we’ll have to be naked."
He stood, waiting for reactions as the news settled in. Some were as he thought. Tonks began to chuckle. Dan and Emma merely looked intrigued. Hermione was stoic, convinced she could handle it without any problems. Harry hoped that was true, and hoped she could help him because he wasn’t sure he could handle it well. Minerva, Arthur and Narcissa looked shocked, while Ginny looked as if she’d just been challenged and was willing to accept it. Susan and Terry glanced at each other and blushed. Luna, as Harry expected, didn’t react at all. Surprisingly however, neither did Draco.
"I want to add something here," Hermione said from her seat. "Harry has had me researching dementors again. I did so during our third year, but this time Harry gave me an idea and a unique angle to look at it from. I’m not positive, but it’s quite possible that dementors were created during the siege of Colchester by Queen Boudicca. She was not only queen of the Iceni tribe, but also a druid priestess. If bringing back the brotherhood allows us to study the magic that created the dementors, then perhaps we will find a way of hurting them, maybe even killing them."
Minerva frowned. "Naked," she said tightly.
Harry nodded unhappily. "I don’t like it anymore than you do, Professor, but this is a chance I don’t think we can afford to overlook. If we could avoid that part of it, I’d be the first one in line to do so."
Most of the Outcasts shared a knowing look. They had seen some of Harry’s scars during the swimming sessions and therapy for his leg back at Hogwarts and understood his reluctance.
Ginny broke the silence next. "I never thought that anyone else would see me like this, but let’s be honest here. This isn’t a romantic situation. It’s more like going to one of those muggle beaches where everyone’s naked."
"Look," Dan said, butting in. "I don’t have a problem with getting naked in front of others as I’ve been to some of the beaches Ginny spoke of. But I’m not clear what this is going to do. Is this rite going to awaken a guardian to assist us, or is this going to resurrect an Order that has been dead for over fifteen hundred years?"
Harry, Hermione and Remus exchanged glances. Then, with a shrug, Remus spoke.
"To be honest, Dan, we’re not entirely sure. The journal talks about awakening the Guardian spirit and the rebirth of the Brotherhood. Cathal, the author, wrote about this part on his death bed so he didn’t have time to go into a lot of detail."
"The fact is, either could be the case, Dan. We won’t know for certain until we try the ritual. We’ve found out where the ritual has to be held and we have permission from the Irish Ministry. They have even gone so far as offering to provide security during the rite. The question we need to answer is, do the benefits outweigh the risk and embarrassment of being naked? We have until the tenth of May to decide. That’s the first night we can perform the ritual. If we’re going to do this, we should all be in agreement by the sixth at the latest so the Irish have time to prepare." Harry said quietly.
"I can’t say I like the idea of my students being naked in public, but I also remember a time when rites were routinely performed in that way," offered McGonagall. "The advantages of learning a forgotten and powerful form of magic are alluring. You twelve would be capable of doing things no one else would be able to do until you start to share the information."
"Why us, Harry? I mean Dan and I. We don’t know a lot of magic and are the least trained of those you’ve included. I appreciate what you’re offering, but I don’t understand why you want to include us," Emma asked pointedly, while Dan nodded vigorously.
Harry looked at the two and grinned. "That’s exactly why I included you. We’d all be learning something new, so this would put you at the same level as everyone else. Besides, you two spent your entire childhoods and most of your adult lives as muggles. This gives you a perspective on the subject that most of us just don’t have.
"But Harry, you also have that perspective. You weren’t raised as a wizard," Dan offered quietly.
Harry recoiled at Dan’s comment and his eyes flashed angrily for a moment. He stood, ignoring the worried looks aimed at him and walked to a nearby window.
"My perspective on muggles is… tainted," he said in a quiet voice as he gazed out through the glass. "How I was raised has made it impossible for me to be very objective. If it weren’t for people like yourself, Dan, and Emma and most especially Hermione, I’d probably agree with Voldemort. But you’ve shown me that not all muggles are like Vernon and Petunia…"
Hermione looked at him carefully, wanting nothing more than to wrap her arms around him and offer comfort. But she knew this was something he had to face, needed to face; something he had to come to grips with.
Harry took a few calming breaths then turned to face the shocked group. "I am not Voldemort," he said softly. "Yes, we have similar backgrounds, but I am not him, nor do I want to be him. I have friends, muggle and magical, and I know, in general at least, that everyone is worth saving. I can’t help it if sometimes I wonder if I’m right or not."
"No Harry, you’re not Voldemort," Luna said, agreeing with him. He winced inwardly as he felt the full brunt of her emotions bore down on him and he raised his occlumency shields to maximum. "You’re not Voldemort because you care too much. He doesn’t care at all. You may not believe in yourself, but the rest of us believe in you. If you, Hermione and Remus think this ritual is important enough to try, then let’s do it."
Harry nodded gratefully and moved to lean over the back of Hermione’s chair. He looked at the others questioningly.
One by one they met his gaze and nodded in agreement. All knew that in the coming days they would harbor doubts and have to come to terms with their agreement. But it helped that they were all family. They would support each other.
Hermione knew his admission had cost him dearly. Her hands fisted in her lap and she pictured herself hexing the Dursley’s over and over, until the sky fell and the stars burned out.
Ottery St. Catchpole…
Charlie peered around the edge of a dumpster. He had been lucky in that he had arrived unnoticed and had hidden himself as quickly as he could behind the grocers in Ottery St. Catchpole.
The town looked to be untouched by the troubles, as people could be seen walking about the streets occasionally. And while they were the first people he’d seen since entering the country, their behavior bothered him.
No one looked around. They didn’t even look at each other. During the two hours he’d spent in his hiding spot, he’d seen several military convoys rumble through town. Each time the sound of trucks approaching had been heard, the people scattered, emptying the streets.
He sat with his back to the dumpster, watching carefully and making plans. The Burrow had been warded, which was why he’d to apparate to the town. Once darkness fell, he’d cross the road and make his way to the house through the fields.
Charlie laid his head back against the wall and wondered yet again if he was doing the smart thing. He knew that most of his family was somewhere in Ireland. All he had to do was apparate there and he’d be safe. And, unlike many other wizards and witches, he had enough power to make such a long jump. He’d be exhausted upon arrival, but he’d be away from this place.
When full dark finally arrived, he crossed the road quickly. Threading his way through the backyards of several homes, he eventually reached a series of fields he could travel through to the Burrow. He was well away from the road and the ground was clear enough of obstructions that he was fairly certain he would spot someone approaching a good distance away.
Nearly an hour later he lay quietly by the stone fence that separated the land his family had lived upon for centuries from his neighbors. Ottery St. Catchpole wasn’t a big community, but the town had many outlying homes. He was surprised to see only a few of them had lights of any sort shining through their windows. Homes he knew to be muggle owned were being lit by fireplaces, candles and oil lamps. None of the homes seemed to have the steady glow of light only electricity could give.
Peering over the stone wall, he frowned. There was no source of light coming from the squat shape in the distance that he knew was his home. He started to reach for his wand but stopped just short of grasping it. He’d need light, but he couldn’t risk using his wand. He rummaged in his rucksack, thankful that working at the Dragon Preserve had forced him to resort to some muggle items. He pulled out the handheld torch and thanked Merlin that dragons were irritable when clutching and exposed to magic, hence all the handlers were given muggle hand torches to avoid annoying the great beasts.
With the torch in hand, he slipped over the wall and proceeded down to the Burrow. He approached the darkened building slowly. Something bothered him about it, but he couldn’t quite put a finger on it. It wasn’t until he had come within twenty feet of it that he realized what it was that was bothering him. Smoke. There was a faint scent of smoke as if, at one point, the building had been on fire.
He clicked on the torch and swung the beam to hit the side of his home. He gasped and reeled in shock at the site of the burned out building. The fire hadn’t been recent. In the light of the torch, the damage looked to be at least a couple weeks old.
Dropping his rucksack, he rushed into the building, pushing past the door that hung crazily by one hinge.
The building had been nearly gutted by fire. The upper floor had collapsed onto the main floor. The outer walls had also been badly damaged, but they had held.
Charlie sunk to his knees as a sob escaped his lips. Of all the possibilities, this was the one he had dreaded the most. Pushing the grief for the loss of his home and the worry for his mother and brother aside, he gathered his wits and pushed himself to his feet.
He looked around for a few more minutes before leaving the building, his shoulders slumped in defeat. He couldn’t search the wreckage using nothing more than a hand torch. He’d wait until morning to see what else he could discover.
He walked to the back of the building, an area he knew wouldn’t be easily visible from the nearby road, and climbed under his blanket. The smell of burned wood filled his nostrils and he knew he would be plagued by nightmares. Curling up and tucking his knees under his chin, he closed his eyes and let the tears he’d pushed away earlier fall.
Padfoot Manor, Harry and Hermione’s room…
Harry followed Hermione into their bedroom. He was very tense from the meeting and all he wanted was to sit down and relax. He also watched Hermione closely. She was obviously as tense as he was and he had no idea why she was so agitated.
He smiled weakly at the sight of the turned down bed. Winky had laid out a pair of silk boxers for him and a night gown for Hermione. On each pillow was a piece of candy. He shook his head and chuckled while Hermione stared at the bed for a moment, scowling.
"It’s got to be Winky’s doing, Hermione. Dobby’s never done anything like this. Besides, the way he’s been acting, he probably would have laid out a field marshal’s uniform for me," he said, answering her unasked question.
She shot him a glare, then scooped up the nightgown and walked into the bathroom to change.
Harry shrugged and changed into his boxers, then threw on his robe. From the bathroom he could hear Hermione muttering to herself and he cringed slightly. He knew she was working herself into a frenzy and when she was ready, she'd explode.
He sat at the table and fingered the pouch of rings in the pocket of his robe. He jumped when the door to the bathroom slammed open and Hermione stormed out. He watched, a bit warily, as she threw on her robe and approached him.
When she grabbed him by the front of his robe and kissed him hard, he blinked in surprise, but went with it anyway. She released him a moment later and stepped back as he slid down in his chair a bit, his eyes a bit glazed.
"You are not Voldemort and are nothing like him!" she spat between clenched teeth. With her eyes flashing dangerously, she spun away from him and began to pace.
"Damn those Dursley’s for what they did to you, Harry James Potter! If I ever get my hands on any one of them, I swear I’d be tempted to use a Cruciatus curse on them! How can you even think your opinion of muggles is tainted?"
When she began to curse steadily under her breath, he shook his head. Turning away from her slightly, he pulled the pouch from his pocket and upended its contents onto the table. He eyed the glittering rings for a moment before he shuffled them around a bit, placing them in a neat pattern on the tabletop.
"I know it’s hard for you, Harry, but you need to work beyond what the Dursley’s have done to you. They are in your past. It’s over…"
"Hermione?"
"Do you have any idea how angry it makes me to hear when you put yourself down like that? Sometimes I want to scream! I want to hex those vile muggles into oblivion…"
Harry got out of his chair and stood in front of her as she paced towards him. "Hermione!"
She nearly collided with his chest. Rocking to a stop, she glared up at him. When he reached out and placed both hands on her shoulders, her expression softened somewhat. "What?" she asked, a bit confused.
He led her over to table where he had arranged the ten rings.
Seeing them, her brain lurched, and ground to a halt as Harry got down on one knee.
"Marry me?" he asked, the hope clearly evident in his voice.
She glanced back and forth between Harry and the rings several times, blinking owlishly.
"What?" she squeaked.
Harry glanced at the rings, then up at Hermione and wondered what part of ‘Marry me?’ was unclear.
"Er… Marry me?" he repeated, his voice beginning to shake with nerves as a cold knot formed in his stomach.
Hermione stepped back and stared at him. "Oh, Harry," she said, her voice hitching. Then, as he watched, she spun away from him and bolted from the bedroom.
Harry watched her leave in stunned astonishment. He stood and looked at the rings then at the open door.
She didn’t say yes, he thought. But then, she didn’t say no, either. And what the hell kind of answer is ‘Oh, Harry’? It’s a simple yes or no question, for Merlin’s sake! He felt his heart lurch and clenched his fists. What was he supposed to do now?
Padfoot Manor, Dan and Emma’s room…
The door burst open and Hermione rushed into the room, much to the surprise of the elder Grangers, who were looking forward to a quiet night of reading in bed.
"Mum! He asked me to marry him!" she said skidding to a halt in front her parents. Emma bounced out of the bed and swept her daughter into a hug. Dan climbed out of bed more sedately and stood smiling at the pair.
"That’s wonderful, Hermione!" Emma exclaimed. "Which ring did you pick out?"
Hermione looked at Emma, confused, and the room fell silent.
"Ring?" she asked blankly. Suddenly she had the feeling that something was very wrong.
"Hermione, you did pick a ring, didn’t you?" asked Dan finally.
Her eyes darted between the two and a look of horror crossed her face.
"Hush Dan. Hermione, dear… what answer did you give Harry?" Emma asked gently.
"Answer?" she asked weakly.
Dan looked at his daughter’s expression and began to laugh so hard he collapsed back onto the bed, too weak to stand.
Emma looked at her daughter in horror. "Hermione Jane Granger! Do you have any idea what you’ve done to that young man? I don’t care what answer you give him, but you get your arse back into that room and give him an answer right this minute!"
"Oh gods!" Hermione blurted, realizing the magnitude of what she’d done. Spinning on her heel, she dashed back out the door, slamming it behind her.
Emma watched her go, shaking her head, then turned to her laughing husband. "She got that from you, you know."
Dan got himself under control and looked at his wife. "What did I do?"
"What did you do? Need I remind you that after I said yes, you ran off to share the news with your mates and forgot to give me the ring?" Emma asked archly. "I had to wait four hours for you to remember that you were now engaged, and another hour for you to get your head out of your arse long enough to slip the ring on my finger!"
Dan looked sheepish. "I’d forgotten about that," he muttered. Seeing Emma’s expression, he blanched. "It was a lovely wedding, though," he tried.
When she narrowed her eyes and glared at him, he sighed. Climbing under the blankets, he picked up his book and resigned himself to one of ‘those’ nights. Just keep your mouth shut, old boy, he told himself. This, too, shall pass.
Padfoot Manor, Harry and Hermione’s room…
Hermione had only been gone for a few minutes and Harry still stood, almost rooted to the floor, trying to understand what had happened. He looked at the rings again. With a shaking hand, he reached out towards them, intent on shoving them back into the pouch and calling for Dobby to take them back to his vault.
"HARRY!"
He turned at Hermione’s shout and was startled to see a brown haired blur streaking back into the room. She leapt at the last minute, landing against his body hard and sending them both tumbling to the floor. When they landed, she was on top of him, her arms wrapped around him like a steel band.
He looked up at her, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Hermione?"
She began to kiss him; his mouth, his nose, his face, his neck. Between each, she murmured "Yes!" over and over.
He grinned, wrapping his arms around her. "You will?" he asked breathlessly. "You’ll marry me?"
"Yes!" she shouted. When he opened his mouth to ask if she was sure, she kissed him again and he thought his bones would melt.
Oh, yes, she’s sure! It was the last coherent thought he had for a very long time.
Padfoot Manor, Remus and Tonks’ room…
"HARRY!" echoed through the house and Remus looked up for a moment from his book and began to chuckle.
"Something funny?" asked Tonks as she padded into the bedroom from the bathroom, a towel still wrapped around her neck.
"Well, if that cry was what I think it was, Harry finally got around to showing Hermione the rings," Remus told her, grinning.
"Well, good for him! At least he didn’t pussyfoot around and need someone else to prod him into asking." She sniffed disdainfully, then smiled to show she was only joking.
Remus’ hand shot out. He grabbed her by the front of her robe and pulled her into an embrace before she could protest. Nuzzling his face between her breasts, his eyes flickered up to meet hers and she smiled.
"Someday, you and I will have to sit down and have a long talk about what it’s like to grow up a werewolf, Tonks. You know what it’s like to be different, but you don’t know what it’s like to be shunned, and to have people afraid of you. Harry probably knows what that’s like, but I suspect few others here, including you, know…"
She tried to reply, but he had begun to caress her in a way that made all logical thought impossible.
The Burrow, Ottery St. Catchpole, England…
The sun was barely touching the horizon when Charlie awoke. The night had left behind a chilling dew and he shivered under the lightweight blanket. Every bone and muscle in his body screamed when he tried stretching. He blinked in the bright morning light and, for a brief moment, wondered where he was. Then it hit him. The Burrow.
He sat up and looked at the building he had been huddled against. In the darkness last night he hadn’t been able to get a good idea of the damage to the building. In the cold light of day he was able to clearly see the horror that had once been his home. The collapse of the second floor had caused the eastern wall to partially collapse when a support beam broke through the wall.
He stuffed the blanket back into his rucksack and walked around to the front of the building. Looking around, he could see a few people in the distance and knew he probably shouldn’t stay here long. But he needed to know what had happened!
Taking a deep breath, he stepped into the Burrow and looked around. The devastation was total. Last night he’d only caught glimpses of it in the light from his hand torch. Now it was laid out in all its morbid glory. The roof was gone. The fire had raged unchecked and he wondered why the fire proofing charms hadn’t worked.
Stepping into what used to be the kitchen, he knelt by a familiar looking object. The clock was heavily damaged and no longer working, of course, but it was recognizable. Holding it in his hand, he frowned at it. He knew the clock would be missing the hand for Percy, as it had fallen off when he had been killed. But it was missing two other hands. Probably for Ronald and Mum, he thought sadly. But if the arms fell off after the fire or were destroyed by it, he mused, that would mean they aren’t dead.
It was thin. It was probably a false hope, but it was hope. He opened his rucksack and pulled out a t-shirt. Laying the shirt flat on the floor, he gently wrapped the clock in it and put it back into his rucksack. Placing the rucksack against the wall, he sat next to it, trying to figure out what his next step would be. The Weasleys were a large family and Molly could have escaped to seek shelter with any of her many cousins, aunts and uncles. She had no siblings living that she could go to.
Charlie made a mental list of names and places he had remembered visiting when he was little and growing up at the Burrow and decided to check as many of them as he could. Dad and the rest of his family might have given up on Molly and Ron, but he hadn’t.
Haven, Ireland (May 2nd)…
Harry and Hermione had talked long into the night. She had apologized for running out on him and, when it was all said and done, both agreed it would be an amusing memory in the years to come.
Today they had decided to take a day off. Dobby and Winky were preparing a family feast in celebration of the engagement and Harry was almost afraid to see what Dobby’s idea of a small family feast meant. Doing their best to escape the excitement of the elves, they had left the manor quickly and, linking hands, set off for Haven.
Harry smiled every time Hermione reached over with her free hand and felt for her ring. Last night, when the two of them had finally gotten off the floor, she had examined each ring carefully before making a selection. Her choice pleased Harry greatly. Her ring wasn’t the smallest or the largest he had offered her. It had, however, been worn by his paternal grandmother and half a dozen other Potter women before her.
"So, do we have a destination this morning or are we just walking around?" Hermione asked, enjoying the sunshine.
"I wanted to check in on the orphans. Then I thought you might want to take lunch at the school. You know your parents are in a frenzy of planning with Dobby for tonight’s celebration. Do you really want to be there for all that?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "My mother’s already thinking about where we can hold the wedding and we haven’t even set a date yet."
Harry stopped her and placed a finger on her lips. "After Voldemort, honey. That’s all I think I can promise you. If I could do it right now, this minute, I would. But for your sake, and for the sake of the family we’ll make…"
"Reach… reach… reach…," piped a small voice. Harry looked up sharply.
"For the sky!" hissed another small voice.
"Oh… yeah… Reach for the sky!" said the first voice. A nearby bush shook as small giggles were heard.
Hermione glanced at Harry, who was trying very hard not to laugh.
"Who’s there?" he demanded in mock anger.
"I am" said the first voice followed by more giggles.
"And who are you?" asked Hermione, peering at the large bush.
"Robin Hood," said the voice, followed by a series of hurried whispers. "No, not Robin Hood. I’m Harry Potter! Now reach for the sky!"
Harry rolled his eyes and Hermione grinned, her eyes dancing with mirth. "Oh no! Not Harry Potter!" she exclaimed.
The bush shook from root to tip and two small boys tumbled out from behind it, then scrambled to their feet. The boys, no older than five or six stood and looked at Harry and Hermione, then each pointed a stick at them.
"You’re our poisoners!" said the younger looking boy.
"Prisoners," said the other. The two looked at each other then nodded.
"March! We’re taking you to your dome!" said the younger of the two
"Doom!" said the other.
"Oh, yeah"
Harry and Hermione exchanged amused glances and let the two boys lead them to the farm house in the distance. One of the boys ran ahead to alert the Johansens that they were bringing in two desperate poisoners… er… prisoners.
Harry and Hermione climbed the short stairs to the doorway of the house just in time to see Olga Johansen open the door.
"Robert! What are you and Thomas doing to these nice people?"
Robert, spotting Olga, decided that Harry, who had made a wonderful prisoner, would now make an even better shield and slipped behind him.
"Mrs. Johansen?" asked Harry with a smile.
"Yes? Oh me and my manners, won’t you two please come in?" she asked, stepping back from the doorway. "You must be friends of Inga and Helga. I’ll put tea on, then call the girls, hmm?"
Surprised by the older woman’s behavior, Harry and Hermione let themselves be led into a kitchen where she moved about like a force of nature.
"Actually, Mrs. Johansen, Hermione and I decided to stop by to make sure your family and the children had everything they need. I think Hermione’s met your daughters, but I haven’t," Harry said softly, trying to put the woman at ease.
Olga turned and looked at the pair sitting at her table. Her brow was furrowed in concentration and she tapped one finger against her chin. "Hermione? Now where have I heard of that name before?" she muttered to herself.
The backdoor opened and Sven entered the room followed by two of the older boys who looked to be about ten each. "And that’s why we milk the cow from the right hand side boys…" he stopped, staring at Harry and Hermione.
"Papa, we have visitors," Olga said proudly, "Miss Hermione and…" She paused and stared at Harry in consternation.
Harry looked embarrassed. "Miss Hermione Granger and myself, Harry Potter."
Sven’s face broke into a huge smile, while his wife sat heavily in one of the chairs, looking at Harry in shock. From the doorway several of the children started whispering among themselves. Little Robert, their captor, gulped loudly and backed away from the door.
"We didn’t mean to intrude on your family, Mrs. Johansen, I just wanted to make sure that you had everything you needed," offered Harry.
Sven walked over and shook his hand. "We have much to thank you for, Mr. Potter. You saved our family, and Johan, then you gave us this wonderful home. Now Mama and I, we make one big family and I’ll teach the little ones how we grow food for the town, besides learning their numbers and letters."
Harry smiled at the big burly man. "I’m glad Remus was able to help you, Mr. Johansen. When I heard you had taken in all the children from the orphanage, I told him to make sure you had whatever you needed to care for them as well as yourselves."
"Mr. Lupin is a good man, a strong man, but a quiet one. I like that in a person. You can feel his strength without him bragging about it," Sven said softly. Mama, recovered from her shock poured tea for everyone.
Hermione nudged Harry and pointed at the doorway where all the children were standing wide-eyed.
"I thought you were older," Olga said.
Harry smiled at the woman. "I’m nearly seventeen, Mrs. Johansen. From what I understand, not much younger than your daughters, whom I’ve heard so much about. You’re here because your son was a student at Hogwarts and I wanted to save the students and their families. Then you took in these children, offering them love and a home. That makes you even more important to our community.
"I’ve heard about you and your husband and your efforts to help the community despite being muggles and I’m hoping that you’ll continue to be a shining example of everything good in both muggle and magical people."
"Mr. Potter, would you like to see what Mr. Lupin and his elves have done for us here?" asked Sven shyly.
Harry’s face lit up. "I think I would, sir. I know you haven’t had time to actually start your farm, but I would like to see what you have planned."
"Come then, we’ll walk around and let the women talk. I’m sure Mama will have some of her strudel ready by the time we come back," he said with a grin.
Harry stood up and frowned for a minute as the muscles in his bad leg protested. With a flick of his wrist, his staff appeared in his hand. He glanced at Hermione and shook his head when she began to speak. Smiling at the older man, he followed him from the house, intent on looking over some of the other buildings the elves had put up for them.
Hermione watched Harry go fondly before turning back to Olga. "He was very worried about the children," she said softly.
Olga leaned forward in her chair and sipped her tea. "The babies, they will be taken care of. Mr. Potter doesn’t need to worry about that."
"He can’t help it, Mrs. Johansen. Harry is an orphan himself and never had the opportunity that you’ve given to these children."
Olga patted Hermione’s hand comfortingly. "You tell him not to worry. Papa and I may not know much about raising wizards and witches, but we know about raising babies and making sure they are happy and loved. Now, about that strudel…"
Hogwarts Castle, the dungeons…
Two Death Eaters stood just inside the door to the potions laboratory. Inside, Severus Snape was tethered by a collar around his neck that was connected to a chain leading up to the ceiling. With a single gesture, one of the guards could cause the chain to retract, effectively hanging Snape. They had demonstrated the mechanism to him once when he had tried to escape using a poisonous concoction that killed one of the guards. Since then, Severus had behaved himself and continued to work as instructed.
The door opened and Lucius stepped in. "Wait outside," he said to the guards.
Both men turned and exited the room. Severus glanced at Lucius nervously and he could see his guards bowing where they stood out in the corridor. A moment later Voldemort walked in and Lucius closed the door before taking a position just behind the Dark Lord.
Voldemort casually waved his wand, conjuring a comfortable chair. He sat down and stared at Snape, who had knelt as soon as he’d walked into the room. Snape bowed his head and trembled.
Voldemort looked around the dungeon carefully. He noted the large number of discarded, ruined cauldrons in one corner. From all appearances, the cauldrons were of all types of metals; iron, silver, gold and steel.
"You wanted an audience spy. Speak." hissed the Dark Lord, his tone dangerous.
"My lord, I have reached an impasse in the required research you asked for. The Ritual of Anthrokrak requires three unique and difficult to brew potions…"
"And? I thought you were a potions Master?"
"My Lord, I can make the first two potions without difficulty. The last potion is the problem. The ingredients are highly volatile and I have tried every cauldron type to make the potion, all with the same results," Snape said, gesturing to the pile of destroyed cauldrons.
"Impossible! No potion is that volatile. Show me your ingredient list," Voldemort snapped.
Snape stood and turned, picked up a piece of parchment and turned again. Kneeling once more, he offered the list to the Dark Lord with a shaking hand.
Voldemort looked to Lucius, who stepped forward and took the parchment from Snape’s hand. He quickly scanned the list, then gave it to Voldemort, who read it with slowly widening eyes.
"Is this list correct?" he asked incredulously.
"Yes, my lord," Severus said, cringing. "I have double and triple checked the translations. I think I have come up with an idea from the clues in the original texts, which is why I needed to speak with you. Your knowledge of dark lore is without peer."
Voldemort folded his arms and stared down at the potions Master. "Very well, tell me of this clue."
"My lord, when I began to realize that the final potion was too damaging to the cauldrons, I stopped brewing and started to research the history of the rite itself. There is little information about the origin of this rite, but what I have learned suggests that a special cauldron was used. I found one reference in an old Norse text which referred to the Ritual of Anthrokrak and something called the Cauldron of Chaos. It seems that the Cauldron of Chaos was created using meteoric iron and consecrated with the blood from many species, including Wizard, Goblin, Centaur and High Elf.
"The process for making such a cauldron is not known to me, my lord. I do know the High Elves died out as a species centuries ago. That means, in order to complete this potion we need to find at least one existing Cauldron of Chaos."
Voldemort leaned back in his chair and rested his chin on one hand. His gaze grew unfocused as he considered what Snape had told him. "Yes," he murmured. "I do recall reading several texts that mentioned such a cauldron. I know that more than one of these cauldrons was made, but they must be quite rare. Lucius…"
The blond stepped up to stand next to Voldemort in his chair. "My Lord?"
"Send out owls to all our suppliers and contacts on the continent. Just because Potter has trapped us here in Britain doesn’t mean we can’t get deliveries."
Lucius nodded at his master’s command. Snape’s eye’s widened hearing the name of Potter and wondered how he had trapped them in Britain. Then he dropped his eyes again.
Voldemort considered the man kneeling before him. "I am not displeased with you, Severus. You are still a traitor, but you have proven to me that you still have your uses. As a reward, I will see that you receive extra food."
Voldemort stood and banished his chair. Lucius opened the door and the Dark Lord swept from the room. A moment later the two guards returned and Lucius departed. Snape slowly climbed to his feet and breathed a sigh of relief.
Stonewall Lane, Dublin, mid-morning (May 5th)…
Harry, Hermione, Remus, Tonks and Michael O’Dalley arrived at the apparation point in front of Government House. A moment later, Dan and Emma appeared via portkey. The Grangers were starting to learn how to apparate, but had not yet mastered the skill.
"Right then," said O’Dalley. "If you notice anyone following you, it’s because we have placed a security team in the lane to keep an eye on things for you. They have orders not to disturb you, but they are also here to make sure that people, including the press, don’t disturb you. The Minister will meet you here in Government House at six P.M. for the press conference. He realizes that you don’t want to answer questions, so he’s told the press that you will make a short statement, then go about your business."
Harry knew he couldn’t avoid the press conference, but at least this way it would be short and sweet. The security detail was a bit of a surprise, but all things considered, the added security probably was a good idea.
"Thank you, Michael," Harry said over the noise of the busy street, then turned to look at Stonewall Lane for the first time.
In many respects, the Lane resembled Diagon Alley with its many shops. But amidst the nineteenth century storefronts were some buildings of a decidedly more modern nature. The home of the Dublin Daily, the Wizarding paper for Ireland, was a modern looking building of steel and glass.
Gringotts was easy to spot with its gleaming white marble and characteristic slant. Harry had one order of business, then the rest of the day until the press conference was all theirs. Leading the others, he set off for Gringotts.
Inside the bustling lobby, he was met by Ragnok, Managing Director of Gringotts. When Ragnok spotted Harry and his group, he smiled toothlessly.
"Lord Potter, it is good to see you and your friends again. I am pleased to see you are well, considering the recent unpleasantness."
"Director, I am happy to see you, as well. Might we have a word with you concerning a bit of business?" asked Harry with a slight bow.
"I thought you might be here on business, my lord. I have taken the liberty to prepare a conference room where we can talk." He turned then and nodded to each member of Harry’s party. When his gaze fell on Hermione, his eyes dropped to her hand and, noting the ring, he smiled broadly.
"Welcome, Miss Granger. I see Lord Potter has finally announced his intentions and that you’ve accepted. You will make a fine Lady Potter."
Hermione’s body tensed. It hadn’t occurred to her that if Harry were Lord Potter, she’d become Lady Potter. Harry winked at her and began to snicker. Hermione frowned and made a note to have a talk with her intended about his idea of surprises.
Ragnok led the party to a cozy conference room with a roaring fire. One wall was charmed so they could look out over Stonewall Lane. Sitting around the table Ragnok looked to Harry expectantly.
"Director, as of this morning the town of Haven boasts a population of thirty eight hundred and five people. We’ve set aside space next to our town center that would be ideally suited to a Gringotts branch. The British Ministry of Magic in Exile occupies an adjoining building and is currently in negotiations that stand a good chance to more than double our numbers as other governments send aid to help in our efforts."
Ragnok’s eyes widened as Harry reeled off the numbers. The others could see he had caught his interest.
"What would you expect of us in return, my Lord?"
"I want to set up a fund, Ragnok. I will contribute half a million galleons to the fund, which you will then use to provide low interest rate loans to the people of Haven. Haven has only one official business at the moment. We have a lot of shops and manufacturing spaces that aren’t currently being used, but I have many people who need to feel as if they’re earning their own way. You bring Gringotts to Haven and administer these loans, Gringotts in Ireland helps us to jumpstart a new town. You’ll make money from managing the loan fund and your new branch office, I’ll make money off the interest on the loans, and the people we’ve rescued will regain their self respect."
Ragnok looked up from the notes he’d been taking. "Is it your intention to take Haven public, my Lord? It will be nearly impossible for the town’s economy to thrive until you do."
Harry leaned back in his chair and realized that everyone was staring at him. "I don’t see that we have much choice, Ragnok. The town itself is heavily warded, as are the surrounding areas, but I think we’ll have to drop the Fidelius charm around the town itself."
Remus leaned forward. "Harry, think about what you’re saying. You’re talking about exposing everyone!"
Harry sighed. "We’re exposing them anyway, Remus. Today, at the press conference, we’ll be telling the world that we stole Hogwarts right out from under Voldemort’s nose, along with a bunch of the wizards and witches. People are going to wonder where all those people are. No, dropping the charm on Haven will allow the town to start to function like it should. We can keep the Fidelius up on the school, the Operations Center and the Manor house, however. My thought was to set up a ward similar to the one I put on Britain. Given its much smaller size, I shouldn’t need any help to do that."
Remus frowned while Tonks and Emma exchanged worried glances. Ragnok watched the exchange with interest.
"Remus, Harry’s right," Dan said. "The town can’t begin to work if it remains hidden from the local Wizarding population. Haven needs to be able to move products in and out, and the people need jobs. I agree that exposing the town increases the danger level, but we have a large number of Ex-Aurors in the population, nearly two hundred, and there are… what? One hundred others in training? We can set up a constabulary to protect the town."
Remus nodded reluctantly, then turned to Harry. "Alright, I don’t like it, but I see the need. However, I would suggest that tonight you simply announce its existence and not where it is. We need time, Harry. We need time to plan this and to set up a force capable of defending the town."
Harry glanced at Hermione, who nodded in agreement, before he turned back to Remus. "We’ll do it your way then. I guess, in my rush to get people back on their feet, I overlooked the details."
Remus clapped him on the shoulder. "It’s alright, cub. It’s a good idea, but we need to refine it a bit first. In the meantime, I think Director Ragnok would like to get back to the business at hand."
"Not at all, Mr. Lupin," offered Ragnok. "This conversation has been enlightening, to say the least. However, I need to confer with the board members of Gringotts to determine the extent of the branch we will open in Haven. But I will agree at this point that Gringotts will open a branch office in the town. I will owl Mr. Lupin with the details and specifics when I have them."
Harry carefully expelled the breath he’d been holding and smiled at the Goblin. "Thank you, Director. I do hope you will do us the honor of joining us some evening for dinner in Haven?" Harry asked.
Ragnok’s looked shocked. Goblins were never invited to dinner by wizards! When Harry stood, Ragnok, who had to shake off the urge to gape, stood and bobbed his head. "I’d be honored, my lord," he stammered.
The Notting Hill section of London…
Charlie Weasley was exhausted and hungry. In the last three days he had visited the homes of several relatives, trying to discover where his mother and brother were. To his surprise, not every home he visited was deserted.
Great Aunt Milly still lived in her little apartment in Seaton. He had managed to get a meal and a full night’s sleep. She had been ecstatic to see him, but she was approaching one hundred and seventy and kept asking him his name over and over again. Charlie spent a comfortable night on her couch with a warm blanket and a full belly. He left in the morning, promising that he’d find some way to return and help her once he found his mother.
That was two nights ago. Since then, he had slept in burned out buildings and scavenged food from a looted grocery store. Now he was heading for his cousin’s apartment, a place he’d only visited once when he’d been ten years old. His cousin was a squib and worked as an accountant.
Charlie was shocked to see large swatches of London had burned to the ground. There were a lot more people in the city than in the urban areas where people were hiding and hoping things would blow over.
The city seemed to crawl with people and military convoys were constantly moving about. Charlie was horrified to see many convoys contained at least one Death Eater. He overheard one person claiming Death Eaters were civilian consultants helping the military control things until the government got back on its feet again.
Struggling to remember the address, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to find it. And with all the convoys, he was feeling a bit exposed. He’d have to wait until dark to check in with his cousin and find out if he knew where Molly was.
Government House, Stonewall Lane, Dublin…
Harry sat with his friends in a small anteroom just off of the official press room in Government house. Amelia and Arthur had met them there. Both of them would be participating in the press conference, as well as Brogan Mallory, the Minister of Magic for Ireland.
Harry leaned back and closed his eyes, thinking of their day. After Gringotts, he and Hermione had gone off on their own, exploring and just enjoying being out without worrying about missions, or people.
Strangely enough, everyone accidentally met up again in front of Brigid’s Bridal Boutique. Emma laughed seeing both Hermione and Tonks eagerly eyeing the various gowns in both muggle and Wizarding styles. Fortunately, Harry and Remus were spared the experience of being dragged inside the building since they all had a dinner engagement.
After dinner they’d walked leisurely to Government house where they were now waiting for the press conference to start.
Hermione hid a grin as she watched Harry. He was obviously nervous about the upcoming news conference. He’d sit down for a few minutes, then stand and pace, then sit and wipe sweaty hands on his pants. Then he’d repeat the process all over again. She finally managed to get him to sit with her by the simple expedient of capturing his hand and refusing to let it go. She knew he hated the press and the fame of the Boy-Who-Lived, but he’d asked for this conference and he would have to learn to deal with it.
"Relax, Harry. You’ll give your statement and that’s all you need to do," she whispered.
When he nodded, then looked around for an escape route, she rolled her eyes and tightened her grip on his hand…just on the off chance he decided to make a run for it.
A moment later, Michael O’Dalley slipped into the room. "They’re ready now, my lord," he said softly and Harry eyed him grimly. Sighing, he stood up
Following O’Dalley of out the room, he was directed to a seat up on the stage with Mallory and Amelia. The room was filled with people eyeing him curiously. A moment later a witch stepped up to the podium and addressed the crowd of reporters.
"In a moment the Minister will make a short statement, then Harry Potter will make a statement, followed by Minister Bones of the British Ministry of Magic. Both Minister Bones and Minister Mallory will be available after their statements to take questions."
Harry could see the disappointment in the eyes of the reporters and he fought to hide a smile.
"Ladies and gentleman, the Minister for Magic, Brogan Mallory," the witch announced, and then stepped away from the podium and sat down
"Citizens, Wizards and Witches of the world. In the past month we have been witness to the extraordinary and horrifying events taking place in Britain. By reason of our close proximity to the danger, your government has been taking measures to ensure the safety of our people. Today I have introduced a bill to our Wizengamot requesting additional funding to increase our Auror force.
"We have taken steps to ensure your safety and will continue to do so, now and an in the future. One of those steps was a decision that some have called dangerous and foolhardy. To those I would say, we are Irish! We have lived through adversity and come out the other side stronger for it. The decision to allow Harry Potter to come to our land wasn’t made lightly on our part. It was, in my opinion, a gamble that has paid off. Mr. Potter was not only instrumental in preventing Voldemort from leaving Britain, but he also orchestrated the total evacuation of Hogwarts students and staff, not to mention its vast library of precious books of lore. Thus denying the evil Dark Lord of it's bounty.
"But rather than hearing about it from me, let the world hear from the man himself. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Harry Potter," Mallory said with a large smile, then he stepped back.
Harry stood and stepped up to the podium. He blinked rapidly as the flashes from many cameras went off. Trying to clear the spots from his vision, he stared back at the people in the room.
"Minister Mallory," Harry began softly, "for myself and for the people we’ve managed to save, I thank you. I also would like to thank the people of Ireland for welcoming us.
"Some months ago, when we first realized what we were up against, we made plans. Plans to save as many as we could and plans to prevent the spread of Voldemort’s madness. We have saved nearly four thousand people and, in the process, have created a defensive shield that is designed to prevent the spread of the Dark Lord’s diseased ideals.
"To the people of Ireland, I say rest easy. While we have significantly reduced the threat against your lives and your homes, the threat still remains, and we are working closely with your government to ensure your safety. But Voldemort will not step on sacred Irish soil anytime soon.
"To any still in Britain who may hear my words, I say take heart! You are not alone and we will not abandon you! Britain may be under the heel of Voldemort, but we shall never surrender to him.
"Even as I speak, we are fighting back. The stain, the curse of Voldemort, has been stopped at the shores of Britain, making it harder for his evil to spread. When the time is right, we will take back what is ours and see that he perishes in the flames of his own madness.
"To that end, Minister Bones is working closely with Minister Mallory and other Wizarding governments around the world to coordinate our actions. With no small degree of respect, I yield the podium to her, so that she can explain what the British Ministry is doing to protect our people and the world," Harry said, then he stepped away from podium. Two of O’Dalley’s men stood from their chairs and escorted Harry off the stage ignoring the shouted questions from the press.
Stepping into the anteroom, Harry let the stress bleed away. He walked forward into Hermione’s open arms and let her wrap him in her embrace, taking strength from her support.
"Merlin! I hope I don’t have to do that again," he whispered.
The Notting Hill section of London…
Charlie Weasley inched toward the building he wanted to approach. Parts of London apparently still had electricity and the building he wanted was surrounded by lit streetlights.
He sat back in the shadows and considered his options. From what he could see, the building he wanted was close to one that the military was using, which explained the checkpoints at both ends of the street and why the area in-between was patrolled every few minutes.
He adjusted his rucksack and moved out carefully, trying to stay in the shadows. He hadn’t gotten twenty feet when he halted. He had heard a clicking noise behind him.
"Alright, mate. Come out nice and easy and you may not get hurt," said a rough voice.
Charlie turned to see two men holding weapons on him. One man wore a helmet with a set of goggles attached to it. He could obviously see Charlie and track his movements as the weapon followed him.
Unsure of the weapons or the strange eyepiece the man wore, Charlie whirled on his heel and started to run. From behind him came a warning, then a sharp noise. Charlie felt something fiery slam into his upper leg and he started to fall. He apparated instinctively, using the coordinates he had looked up days earlier for Ireland. He had memorized them on the off chance that something like this happened.
He reappeared in a darkened alley and tumbled to the ground. Once he’d skidded to a stop, he sat up painfully and examined his leg. Now that he was in Ireland, he could use magic again. Pulling his wand out of his rucksack, he cast the light spell and looked over the wound. It was ugly, but he’d been wounded before. With a mental shrug, he healed himself, and then leaned back against the alley wall. As the adrenalin washed from his system, exhaustion set in. Before Charlie realized what was happening, he was unconscious.
A little over an hour later, a figure stood over the unconscious redhead. When the tip of a wand lit up the alley, Charlie groaned, but didn’t wake. Had he done so, the merry twinkling of bright blue eyes would have startled him.
"My word, if it isn’t Charlie Weasley! What a fortuitous and welcome find," murmured a grandfatherly voice.
Authors Notes:
First off, Alyx is better, although that is a matter of opinion if you ask me. She claims she's better, but I see no sign of her insanity improving.
A few have complained about the number of new characters. Unfortunately no matter how much you might want to see Harry, Hermione, Remus and Tonks do it all, it's just not possible. We need to introduce new characters who will have jobs that will happen mostly in the background. A few of the new characters might be more visible than others. But not by a large amount.
Mama Johansen is a bit of a pushy woman, she insisted we give her a greater role than we had originally planned, but hey, it works. She's not really replacing Mrs. Weasley although she will share many characteristics with the Good Mrs. Weasley.
The fact that Dumbledore is still hovering around the edges and stirring up trouble should be an indication that we have no intention of crushing him anytime soon. So please stop asking that we let Harry kill him. It's just not going to happen yet.
Yes, we admit it. In the last chapter we poked fun at both France and the Euro. It's not our fault. Canada made us do it!
If one more person decides to drop us a note telling us that Britain includes blah blah blah and blah, we will relocate this story to Antarctica and tell all the nit pickers to buy warm clothing cause we're moving your country to someplace comfy.
As to the readers creeped out by our comments about the French President. Well if you think politicians, from any country, aren't sleaze balls then I have a bridge to sell you.
We're sorry if people think we've kept the details of the Druid rite vague, but then why should we tell you a couple chapters before we actually use it. All you need to know is (a) The ritual will provide them with goodies, but (b) not before it embarrasses them all.
Not every single person will be hooked up with someone. Sorry.