Sunrise Over Britain :: Chapter 17

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Standard Disclaimer:

"Why are you crying?" asked Alyx in confusion.

"Snape. We can't get him for our disclaimers anymore. He had a lawyer write us!" wailed Bob brokenheartedly.

"So use someone else," snapped Alyx, annoyed that Bob was interrupting Judge Judy for this trivial junk. She thought Bird was quite a hunk.

Bob's head snapped up. "Can I?" he asked hopefully.

"Of course!" she snapped again, then went back to watching her show.

The curtain pulled back revealing Fred and George tied to a spit over an open flame. Amy was slowly turning the spit.

"This isn't good," muttered Fred.

"Maybe we shouldn't have sent Bob that phony lawyer letter," replied George, wincing as the hot coals came closer again.

Amy stepped up to poke both of them and she frowned. Neither were cooked yet. She didn't notice when the back of her skirt had caught on fire.

"Distract her," hissed George.

"Oh... Right... The Authors of this story wish to make sure you know they make no claims to anything in the Potterverse. Harry Potter and associated characters are the property of J.K. Rowling exclusively," Fred said proudly.

Amy, discovering she was on fire, shrieked and ran off the stage waving her arms wildly.

"Well, that worked," George said smugly.

Fred eyed the fire below. "Um... we're still above the fire, brother."

"Oh, bugger!"

Sunrise Over Britain
Chapter 17

Aviemore, Scotland (October 10th)...

Colonel McHardy watched the current operation with satisfaction. The sky was overcast, with a cloud cover descending down to about one thousand feet. The rain had ended earlier in the morning and now the sky was just right for a covert insertion.

His men had completed a sweep of the field, making sure it was clear of major obstructions. Now, he could hear the drone of the C130 Hercules making its final approach. High above, he could hear the sound of a fighter escort. The Hercules opened its rear doors and prepared for a LAPES, or Low Altitude Parachute Extraction System. The plane was barely ten feet above the field when the parachutes deployed, pulling the cargo laden pallet out of the back of the plane.

The pallet hit the ground and slid for a bit. The parachutes helped to slow it down before it finally came to a stop. McHardy could have swore he saw the pilot wave before the engines roared to full power and the behemoth pulled up and away.

McHardy's men ran out to the pallet. Several were pulling wagons, which they would use to carry the materiel. He looked up as an American F18/E screamed over the field at high speed, followed by a pair of RAF Tornado's. In the distance, he could make out the profile of a second C130 turning in for its approach to the field. The second plane carried an even more important cargo.

The plane leveled out below one thousand feet and again the cargo doors opened, only this time dozens of men spilled out of the back of the aircraft and immediately deployed their parasails. The first of the promised reinforcements, a contingent of sixty royal marines, had arrived!

Parachute operations were a tricky business, and people rarely land close to each other. However, the low altitude of the jump, in combination with the use of the highly maneuverable parasails, made it possible for everyone to land in the same field.

McHardy stood at the edge of the field, watching as his men continued to load the wagons. Movement caught his eye as one of his men led a parachutist towards his position.

"Colonel McHardy?" asked the parachutist.

McHardy nodded. The man stiffened to attention, then saluted. "Sir, Lieutenant Hanover, 3rd Commando. My men and I are to be under your command, sir. I bring dispatches and orders from command."

"Excellent, Hanover. Have your men assist mine in unloading that cargo. When done, we'll need to pull those wagons about three kilometers to a road where we've commandeered several lorries. Unfortunately, they lacked the ability to drive over this rough terrain, so we were forced to use the wagons and old fashioned man power. Tell me, do you have a medic or a surgeon with your team?"

"Both, sir."

McHardy closed his eyes in silent prayer for a moment. "Very good. You have your orders, Hanover. I want to get out of this field and back to our base before nightfall."

"Very good, sir," Hanover said, then he turned and sprinted towards a group of his men, shouting out orders.

Parliament Building, London...

Lucius looked up from the report he was reading when the door to his office opened.

"My lord, General Worthington is here, requesting an audience with you," said the Death Eater.

Lucius frowned. He reminded himself to renew the Imperious curse on the good General. The curse was obviously weakening if the man was requesting an audience. Fortunately, the General wouldn't recognize him even if he did break free.

"Send him in," Lucius replied curtly.

The Death Eater bobbed his head and opened the door wider.

A moment later, a tall, distinguished looking gentleman entered. He wore the battlefield uniform of a general in the British Army.

The man walked crisply to stand in front of Lucius' desk, where he snapped off a salute.

"Well, General? You asked for this audience. What is it you need this time?" asked Lucius.

"My lord, in the past week we've become concerned about some events happening up in Scotland." The General paused, waiting for permission to continue.

Lucius sighed and motioned for the man to get on with it.

"As you may know, Northern Scotland, particularly around Inverness, was one of the last areas in the country to be pacified to our Lord's regime. I have always been concerned that some units loyal to the illegal monarchy might have survived by slipping into the rugged mountains of that region and hiding out. Our intelligence reports that insurgent groups are moving north, as if planning to meet up with some force in or around Inverness.

"We've picked up some radio signals that may be a coming from a satellite radio, but we haven't been able to pin anything down as yet..."

"Yes, yes. You have suspicions and whisperings. What do you want from me, General? Inverness is a long way from here and Lord Voldemort has cut my supply of 'helpers' by half. So I ask, what do you want me to do about it?" Lucius snapped.

Worthington gulped audibly, then pushed on. "My Lord, what I would like is your permission to send a detachment up north. Nothing major, you understand. Maybe the First Mechanized Brigade from Third Division."

Lucius frowned. Over the past months he had come to realize that these muggle forces consumed vast quantities of materiel when they were in the field. Moving a mechanized brigade would use up a lot of petrol. Although they could forage for what they needed once they left the London area.

He stood then and walked over to the window and looked out. In the distance, he could see columns of smoke rising into the sky, but that was really no surprise. There were always fire in London these days. With no fire services, they were usually allowed to burn themselves out. If the fire was too dangerous, the army would sometimes demolish the surrounding buildings to prevent it from spreading.

"Very well, General. I will allow this troop movement, but I cannot spare any of my men to help. Lord Voldemort has pulled in a number of them for additional training, and the rest are maintaining guard at the camps," Lucius said heavily, then he turned to look at Worthington.

"Mind you, General, I expect results! If there are rebels hiding out, I expect them to be caught and executed!" he said with a snarl.

"We'll get them for you, Sir," Worthington said, then he saluted before turning and walking from the office.

Lucius returned to his desk and sat down heavily. He glanced at the message from Hogwarts. His manpower problem didn't come from Lord Voldemort, but from Mulciber. He was sure of it. Mulciber had systematically stripped him of his Wizarding forces. He was even forced to employ muggle volunteers at one of the Wizarding camps.

He wadded up the parchment and threw it into the fireplace with a snarl. It was yet another, politely phrased request for more of his wizards. He couldn't allow this to continue. He'd have to go to Voldemort and complain.

Padfoot Manor...

Hermione gasped in horror as first Crookshanks, and then Harry, fell into the portal and vanished. Eocho echoed her gasp. She stood transfixed for a moment, then she ran as fast as she could to the other portal in the distance. That portal still contained the silvery liquid, so she couldn't tell if anything had arrived yet.

As she skidded to a halt in front of the portal, the liquid drained away and there was Harry, sitting on the ground, holding Crookshanks in his arms. Crookshanks looked very put out with Harry as the conjured mouse scurried away.

Eocho glided over to hover near Hermione as she stood staring at Harry.

"Crookshanks? I go though the portal and all you can do is think about your cat?" Harry asked, his expression incredulous. Then his eyes widened suddenly. "HEY! The portals worked!"

"Are you sure you're alright? Nothing wrong?" she asked, feeling faint.

Harry released Crookshanks, who looked at him over his shoulder before wandering away, content in the knowledge that cats were truly the superior species. Harry grinned at the cat, then he started to pat himself down. With a shrug, he looked up at Hermione.

"Well, I seem to be all here and in one piece. Two eyes, two ears, ten fingers, twelve toes," he said with a grin.

Hermione's legs gave out and she fell to the ground with a thump, still staring at him. Then they both heard a sound that was only rarely heard around the manor. Eocho was laughing.

Harry grinned at his teacher and stood up, brushing the dirt off the back of his pants. Then he glanced over towards the rose bushes where he could see a ginger colored tail whipping as Crookshanks stalked an interesting bug.

"You know," he said speculatively, "I wonder if Dobby knows a recipe for cat. I had planned on testing the portals with all sorts of animals before I got around to going through myself."

Hermione stood up and glared at him. "Don't you hurt Crookshanks. He's mine. Next time you want to experiment, use Hedwig. Assuming, of course, that she'll let you near her. You've neglected her horribly."

"I have not! She joins me on my morning walks, sometimes. She's enjoying her freedom here in Haven."

Hermione snorted in disbelief.

Harry pointed a finger at her, ready to continue the argument, when Eocho broke in.

"Enough! While the Maglios' trip was unforeseen, it was fortuitous. The Portals have been proven to work, and now we can plan to use them in our efforts. Let us return to the main portal and the table where we can consider our next steps," he said, then he turned and glided in that direction at a stately pace.

Harry looked sheepishly at Hermione, and they both turned to follow Eocho.

"Don't you touch my cat," she sent him.

"I'm not going to hurt him, Hermione. I'll just shave him." he sent back, along with a mental image that had her shuddering.

"Do that and I'll shave you!" she growled back at him mentally.

Harry smirked evilly and sent her back an image of the both of them in the tub, lots of bubbles and some very personal shaving. She shivered, then glared at him when she realized she was becoming aroused.

"You know that wasn't what I had in mind!" she sent, protesting.

"Yeah, but now you're intrigued... Right?"

"I refuse to answer that," she grumbled.

Harry laughed out loud, causing Eocho glanced back at them knowingly.

Hermione sighed. It had become just one more thing she loved about her husband. He could tease her and toss out ideas that she'd reject from anyone else, but somehow, from him, they sounded reasonable.

"Harry?"

"Yes?"

"What was it like? Traveling through the portal, I mean?" she asked quietly.

Eocho, hearing the question, stopped to watch them.

"You know that the portals are supposed to be spatially linked so that there is zero distance between the two?" he asked.

Both nodded at him.

"Well, I don't think we were right about that idea. The problem is, Arithmantically, we were right, but only because Arithmancy can't take the concept far enough. This reminds me of something I read in a book about physics back around the Christmas holidays. Let me see if I can explain.

"The two portals link in such a manner that they overlap in space. But that isn't really what they're doing. It's impossible for two objects to occupy the same space at the same time. The muggles have known that for years. So what happens is there's a distance between the two portals, only it's a negative distance."

Eocho looked at him in confusion and Hermione took a step back and looked at him in awe. His idea bordered on the metaphysical and sounded like something she had read in her father's New Scientist Magazine.

Harry waved a hand dismissively. "Yes, I know it sounds crazy. Totally insane, actually. But it's the only thing that makes sense. It even corresponds to something the muggles know about already. They call them irrational numbers. I don't quite understand that myself. I'll have to find the right books. Anyway, getting back to your original question, the portals should be like stepping from one point to another, but it's not. Not even close.

"Stepping into a portal... alters your perceptions. It's like being in a long tunnel where someone has painted the entire universe on the walls. Until you are completely free of the entry portal, time seems to slow down and you see the beauty of the universe in all it's glory. It's breathtaking, and a little scary. Then suddenly you're free of the entry portal and you shoot across the universe in less time than it takes to blink your eye. Entering the exit portal, things slow down again until you're out."

He paused for a moment, thinking hard. "It's kind of a let down, if you think about it. For a brief moment you are given a view that has probably been seen only by the Gods. And then you're forced back into regular existence. It's both exhilarating and humbling."

He trailed off and his eyes seemed to focus on a distant point. Then he reached over and gently put one arm around Hermione's waist, hugging her.

She looked up at him uncertainly. "Will everyone have this reaction every time they pass through a portal?"

"I don't think so, my heart. Remember the joy we first felt when we learned to apparate? The novelty will wear off soon enough. But I see what you are saying. We should make sure everyone has gone through at least once before using it for troop movements."

He smiled at her impishly, then he looked up towards the other portal where several people were now standing. Eocho moved towards the others and Harry and Hermione hurried to catch up.

Remus, Tonks and the Grangers looked anxiously at Harry and Hermione as they approached. Harry was whispering something in her ear and she was blushing terribly.

"Harry? Hermione? I heard you shouting. What's wrong?" asked Remus worriedly.

Harry held up a hand. "It's nothing to worry about now, Remus. Thanks to Crookshanks, we now know that the portals are fully operational and capable of transporting living objects, including people."

"Crookshanks? I always thought that ball of fluff was a walking menace," Dan quipped. Emma smacked her husband upside his head.

"Leave Crookshanks alone, Daniel Marion Granger! He is a beautiful, majestic cat," she said sternly.

Hermione looked smugly at Harry, while he and Remus shared an amused glance over finally learning Dan's middle name.

"Marion?" Remus exclaimed turning to stare at Dan.

Dan walked away, muttering under his breath and refusing to reply.

Meanwhile, Crookshanks watched the silly humans with disdain from his shady spot under the bush and wondered when his human would be available for another head scratch.

Haven...

Morgan Lachlan opened the door to his shop. He was proud of it. Headlines and Beans was his pride and joy, something he had been trying to do for many a year, but could never afford. That was, until he heard about Haven and the favorable loans that Gringotts was offering anyone wishing to start a business in town.

Ironically, Morgan wasn't British, but Irish, and a squib to boot. He'd moved his family to Haven when he'd heard it was a town that not only tolerated muggles, but actively welcomed them. His shop was a perfect example of that. He offered coffee and pastries from mid morning until nearly dinner time. Along with the coffee and pastries, his patrons had their choice of nearly a dozen Wizarding newspapers and over thirty muggle newspapers.

The American Aurors, in particular, seemed to enjoy reading what was going on back home. His offerings included the Washington Post, the Chicago Tribune and the New York Times, as well as papers like the News Witch, the San Diego Summoner and the New England Journal of Potions and Herbology.

After he finished putting out the tables and chairs in front of the shop in the charmed, heated area, he returned to his spot behind the counter, where he began serving coffee. Business was so good he was able to hire a few kids to help out and still pay them a reasonable wage.

Morgan placed several orders on a tray and took it outside to a table of waiting customers. Placing the coffee on the table, he then distributed the newspapers.

"Hey, someone hand me that Daily News. I want to check the Yankee scores," one of the Aurors at the table said loudly.

Morgan chuckled and flipped the tray under his arm with a practiced move. He turned to head back into Headlines and Beans when he felt a heavy blow to the center of his back and he was violently flung forward, through the plate glass window of his business.

The Aurors at the table reacted instinctively. In seconds their table was flipped on its side and they were huddled behind it, looking for targets. One of them, a field healer, crawled on his belly to the open door to get to Morgan.

Around the town square, numerous Aurors had heard the spell and seen the damage it wreaked, but no one had seen where it had come from. Everywhere people were crouching down, looking around warily.

Finally one senior Auror stood up from behind a table he was crouched behind. "Aurors, secure the square. Someone get the constables!" he shouted.

There was a moment of further silence, then everyone sprang into action.

"I need a field medical kit!" the healer shouted from within the store.

Several people rushed to him, offering their own field kits.

Michael O'Dalley ran out of the Ministry building, followed by several of his constables. Everyone was on edge, fingering their wands and jumping at the slightest noise.

Order was restored, though slowly. Morgan was rushed to Haven Hospital, while the constables pushed everyone out of the store, preserving the scene. O'Dalley arranged for the Irish to send a team of investigative Aurors to survey the scene.

Several hours later, O'Dalley collapsed in his chair. A respected member of the town had been seriously wounded and the Healers were still refusing to say if he'd pull through. The Irish investigators managed to locate where the spell had come from. They'd even found a cheap, broken wand at the scene. They'd bagged up the wand and took it back to their headquarters in the hopes of obtaining a trace on the user's core, but that was a long-shot on a broken wand.

O'Dalley wiped his face tiredly. There was no motive in the attack that he could see. Morgan Lachlan was popular, outgoing, and fit in wonderfully as a member of the community. One of the Irish Aurors suggested that this might be a hate crime, an anti-muggle crime. O'Dalley didn't want to commit to that idea, but he knew it was a valid point. To make matters worse, he'd have to bring the incident to Amelia's attention. It was the first serious, violent crime in Haven.

And if the itch between his shoulder blades was anything to go by, it wouldn't be the last.

Haven, Wizengamot Building, Grand Opening (October 11th)...

Harry stepped into the lobby of the new Wizengamot building with Neville at his side. Normally, Constance would have appeared in his place, but over the summer she had decided her grandson was adult enough to assume his role as he should.

Harry tugged nervously at his tight collar and wished he was someplace, anyplace, else. He glanced over at Neville and saw he was nearly as nervous as Harry was.

"Councilor Potter! Councilor Longbottom!"

Harry turned and saw Agatha Umbridge hurrying towards them, her purple robe billowing out behind her.

"I'm so glad you were able to make it. We were afraid that military operations might keep you from attending the opening session," Agatha said in a rush.

Harry smiled at the woman, then he turned to his companion. "Neville, I'd like you to meet Councilor Agatha Umbridge, the younger sister of our former defense teacher. Councilor Umbridge is one of the Minister's strongest supporters and has volunteered her time and expertise to help the Ministry rebuild the Department of Mysteries. Councilor Umbridge, Neville Longbottom, expert Herbologist and one of our unit commanders."

Neville's eyes had widened for a moment, but Harry's introduction put him at ease enough to shake Councilor Umbridge's hand.

Umbridge smiled at his introduction, then led the two men deeper into the building. "I realize that neither of you will be spending a lot of time here, but you both have offices in the building, and a staff consisting of a secretary and legal research assistant."

Neville and Harry exchanged a glance.

"I don't really think we'll be using the offices or people much, Councilor Umbridge," Neville offered tentatively.

Umbridge waved a hand. "I know, I know. But everyone has the same size staff and the same size office. It's a way of reminding the Councilors that we are all equal in the Wizengamot. As to today's opening meeting, I, for one, do not expect much to happen. We are an incomplete body and lack the necessary number of votes for us to do much in the way of legislation."

Harry and Neville nodded, following the Councilor as she led them into a large chamber. Around the walls were boxes for Councilors to sit in. There was a large open arena in the center of the room, along with a dais and podium from which someone could stand and give a speech.

Slowly the boxes filled up and Harry noticed an interesting pattern. He sat with Neville and a number of the Councilors along one wall. Amhar Coeur de Lion sat along the opposite wall with nearly an equal number of Councilors. And along a third wall were another group. The seating arrangements puzzled him.

He turned when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Neville leaned closer to him. "Notice the way we're sitting? I'm sure it has to do with who supports the Ministry and who doesn't."

He nodded and leaned back on his chair. His gaze caught Amhar's and the man stared at him with an icy hatred. Harry raised an eyebrow and smiled coolly in return.

"My lords! Please, can I have your attention..."

Harry's gaze turned back to the center of the room where Amelia stood waiting for everyone to calm down.

"Thank you. Not since the great Wizarding plague of twelve oh two has the Wizengamot been convened with so few members. There are few rules from that time to guide us, but we shall use the few rules that do exist. As Minister, it therefore falls upon my shoulders to bear the burden of acting as presiding Chief Warlock, since we have no current Chief Warlock..."

"I protest!" shouted Councilor Gripse.

Amelia turned to face Gripse and she adjusted her monocle. "You had a comment, Councilor Gripse?" she asked coldly.

Gripse hurried from his box and down to the center arena, where he stopped in front of the podium.

"Madam Minister, revered Councilors, while it is true we are barely a shadow of our former glory, we do still have a Chief Warlock, one who is much venerated by this august body and has brought us much noteworthy attention on the world stage. I speak, of course, of Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts and the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards."

Harry and Neville scowled.

"Councilor," said Amelia, "I am certain by now you are aware of the criminal charges pending against Albus Dumbledore. The man is a wanted fugitive. And not just by the British, but by the Irish..."

"Yes, yes. I know all that," Gripse said, cutting her off. "The simple fact is, Albus Dumbledore has not been tried, and not been found guilty. As that is the case, we have no grounds to remove him from his position."

Harry frowned and started to stand, but Neville held him back. He glanced at Neville, who shook his head and smiled before standing himself.

Amelia glanced up at Neville, surprised that he wished to add to the debate. She nodded to Neville who made no move to go down to the podium.

"Madam Minister, what our esteemed Councilor Gripse says is, regrettably, true. However, given the Chief Warlock's prolonged absence from this body and his doubtful return, as he knows he will be arrested if he does, might I move that we declare him in absentia. As per the rules of seventeen fifty two, we do have that right and do not require a quorum to do so. Such a declaration would require a mere majority vote, and it would clear the way for allowing you to act as Presiding Chief Warlock until a new one can be elected," Neville said. Then he sat, looking smug.

Gripse, still down on the floor, frowned up at Neville. Amelia blinked in surprise and fought to keep the grin off her face.

"I have a motion to declare Albus Dumbledore, Chief Warlock of this body to be in absentia. Do I hear a second?" Amelia called.

Harry felt Neville kick his shin and he jumped to his feet.

"Councilor Potter-Black? Do you second the motion?" called Amelia.

Harry glanced at Neville who nodded at him. "Erm. Yes, I do. Second the motion, that is," he replied haltingly, then he sat back down and looked at Neville. He was going to have a lot of explaining to do.

Amelia nodded satisfactorily. "All in favor of Councilor Longbottom's motion?"

Harry raised his staff, silently casting the voting charm. Down on the arena floor a pair of numbers tallied the votes.

Amelia watched the votes for a moment before turning back to the Wizengamot. "By a vote of twenty three to sixteen, the motion carries. I will act as Presiding Chief Warlock until a full quorum can be convened on the matter, or until Albus Dumbledore has satisfied his legal issues with us and the other Governments wishing to... speak to him."

Councilor Gripse scowled and moved sulkily back to his seat, upset over this slap against the Leader of the Light.

"Now, moving on..." Amelia stopped and looked up at Neville when he stood and walked down the stairs to the arena.

"Madam Minister, if I may?" he asked, approaching the podium.

"I yield the floor to Councilor Longbottom," Amelia said, taking her seat and looking at him curiously.

Harry leaned forward on his chair, watching carefully. He had no idea what Neville was up to.

"Honored Councilors, in the months since the Wizengamot last presided, there has been a considerable upheaval. Our country lies under the cruel yoke of tyranny and injustice and we, we few, have been thrown up on this distant shore, struggling to keep the ideals of our nation alive. Now we, as a governing body, can sit here day after day and examine the changes imposed by the Ministry, or we can approve them as they currently stand and move forward. I move that we simply approve them so that we can get onto to more important tasks."

"I second," called Harry from his seat.

Amelia looked around, then spotted Amhar Coeur de Lion standing. "Councilor, do you have a comment?"

Coeur de Lion was frowning heavily and he leaned hard against the front of his box. He had to derail this motion some how.

"Madam Minister, Councilor Longbottom makes an excellent suggestion, but one which is most impractical. There have been numerous changes that cannot simply be swept under the rug. The purpose of the Wizengamot has always been as an overseer of the Ministry, to insure that body does not overstep it's limits. As much as I respect my colleague I cannot, in good conscience, support such a measure. For all we know, the Ministry could have enacted laws which curtail our powers," Amhar said, then he sat down smugly.

A number of the members looked uncertain after Amhar's comments.

Harry stood up. This was something he hated, but he couldn't sit back and do nothing.

"Councilor Potter-Black, do you wish to speak?" called Amelia.

Harry nodded. "I support Councilor Longbottom's motion. The only purpose this Ministry has had since it formed has been to take the war back to Voldemort. It has made no laws, passed no edicts or issued new regulations that have not been in support of that task. Any attempts to overturn that can hurt the war effort." With a nod to Amelia, he sat back down.

One of the women sitting near Coeur de Lion stood. Harry recognized her as Maisie Littleton, a pure blood who had refused to follow the Dark Lord because he was a half blood. The Littleton's were at the cutting edge of the racist front, but the family was not known for being dark wizards.

Initially, Harry had been surprised to discover so many pure blood racists among those rescued from Azkaban. However, Amelia had explained that in the last year, the facts of Voldemort's ancestry had come to light and was privately circulated among the Wizengamot membership, many of whom rejected him because of his half blood status.

"Councilor Littleton, do you wish to say something?" asked Amelia.

"I do, Madam Minister. I suggest we either defer Councilor Longbottom's motion, or send it to a subcommittee for further exploration."

Amelia eyed Littleton hard for a moment before turning back to Neville, who still had the podium.

"Councilor Longbottom?"

Neville looked up at Littleton, his eyes narrowed in speculation. Littleton smiled nattily down at him. Then Neville turned to face Amelia.

"Madam Minister, I amend my initial motion to send the idea to subcommittee."

Amelia blinked in surprise then nodded. "Very well, then. We have a motion to send the review of the Ministry's actions to subcommittee. Since this is an amended motion, does anyone second it?"

Harry sat still in his box trying to figure out why Neville changed the motion, while another Councilor stood and seconded it.

After a vote of twenty to nineteen in favor of sending the issue to subcommittee, the Wizengamot broke up for an early lunch before meeting again to determine who would be on the committee.

Padfoot Manor, Later that afternoon...

"Are you sure you don't want some, Harry?" Neville offered. He was holding a glass of fire whiskey.

Harry shook his head reluctantly and waited.

A moment later, Dobby appeared with a glass of fruit juice blend he'd invented. He beamed with pleasure, knowing how much Harry enjoyed the drink.

"I'd like to Neville, but..."

"Say no more. I wouldn't dream of entering one of our greenhouses after drinking this stuff," Neville proclaimed quietly.

Harry rubbed his temples and sighed. He and Neville had spent the better part of the last four hours listening to people bicker over who should be on the damned committee. As far as Harry was concerned, the only thing the day had produced was a headache the size of Wales.

"Neville, why did you amend your motion after Littleton spoke?" he asked.

Neville leaned forward on his chair, both hands wrapped around his glass. "It was a gamble, Harry. If the Wizengamot had approved everything the Ministry had done since late April, it would have created a precedent. That didn't happen, of course. To be frank, I didn't think I'd be so lucky. Anyway, Littleton had something up her sleeve. I don't know what it was, but if I hadn't moved the motion to a committee, she probably would have used it.

"The idea is simple, really. The Ministry has operated without an oversight body for months. Now that the oversight body is rebuilding itself, it's trying to re-establish its old level of control. If we left it to the general assembly, we would be seeing months of testimonies and possibly a few trials. By doing it in committee, we short circuit the general assembly and they will only know what the committee discovers if they read the final report, which almost never happens."

Harry shook his head. "This is too much for me, Nev. I don't know how I'm supposed to understand this stuff. What's worse is that I find myself resenting the time it consumes from my schedule. I don't know how you managed it, mate, but you impressed the hell out of me today."

Neville sat up a little straighter. He looked pleased, though he tried to shrug it off. "Mostly it's from Gran. She drummed this stuff into my head for years. She told me often enough that it would soon be my time to sit and represent our family."

Harry raised his glass in salute. "You did more than that today, mate. You represented all of us. And you did a bloody marvelously job of it, too."

Neville blushed and said nothing.

"So, how's Ginny taking her training?"

Neville frowned. "She got injured a few days back. She wouldn't tell me much about it except to say it was a girl problem. I don't like her getting hurt."

Harry's expression darkened. "I know. Hermione's brought home more than a few bruises. But what can we do? I tried to keep them out of the fighting and they all rebelled over it. They are out of PT and in unarmed combat now. You know what risks they run there. Hermione has no idea I broke four bones in training and I'll bet you a galleon that Ginny doesn't know about the eight you broke."

Neville looked around quickly to make sure they weren't being overheard. "Merlin, no! And I'm not about to tell her. I love her to death, Harry, but that girl has a wicked temper and she doesn't need a wand!"

Harry chuckled and shook his head. "You had to fall in love with a red head, didn't you? Even I wasn't that crazy. Mind you, Hermione can be downright scary at times."

Neville grinned. Both knew they wouldn't change a thing about their wives, even if they could.

Harry stood and stretched. "Well, time to get back to work. The girls aren't due back for another hour and I promised the twins I would visit them. Maybe I'll pickup a headache potion on the way out."

Neville waved and Harry nodded in reply before apparating to the kitchen to raid the potion pantry. Finding the potion he needed, he downed it quickly and apparated to the Operations Center.

Padfoot Manor, Remus' office...

Remus looked over the package that Hermione had put together and shook his head in admiration. In building Haven, he had contracted a magical construction company and given them a rough outline of what they needed. The construction company provided the architect and cleaned up Remus' outline, turning it into something more suitable.

Now he was looking at what would amount to a factory for Harry's portals. Hermione had outlined what the factory would require - foundries, stone carving rooms, ample supply of local stone and water, storage, wood carving rooms, offices and so on. He shook his head and marveled that she could organize it as well as she'd done.

This was a job beyond the ability of the house elves, who were capable of putting up housing and even adding on wings to the Hospital. The factory would require specialized skills not found in a house elf. Why, the foundries alone would take several enchanters and people specialized in transfiguration to install and get working.

He leafed through several more pages of the package and sighed. He'd need to talk to an industrial architect first. Hermione might be good at making lists and organizing, but she hadn't a clue about building a factory.

He grabbed a piece of parchment and quickly wrote a note. They required experts and he'd need to talk to them before going any further.

Q Branch, Haven Operations Center...

"Oy! Harry, mate! Come give us a hand, eh?" shouted Fred.

Harry blinked in shock and stared at the two Weasley twins, both of whom were locked in small cages barely five feet tall.

"What in the name of Merlin?" Harry exclaimed.

"Harry mate, old chum, our favorite investor. Be a pal and unlock these things for us?" pleaded George.

When the cages began to buzz menacingly, both men paled. A gout of flame three feet long and a putrid smell emanated from the rear of each red head. Both managed to look suitably embarrassed before whimpering from the burning sensation.

Harry took a step back and noticed that the Johansen twins were standing up in a corner, petrified. Literally. He scowled and flicked his wrist, instantly extracting his staff. He waved it towards the Johansen's, freeing them.

He walked to the two girls, looking at them anxiously. "Are you two alright?"

"OY! No chatting up our girls, Potter!" shouted one of the Weasleys.

"Right! You're a married bloke! Leave the free birds to us!" yelled the other.

"I think we're fine, Mr. Potter," Inga said with a hint of a blush.

"It's just Harry. I get enough of the formalities elsewhere," he replied with a lopsided grin.

"Oh, I'm going to kill you Potter!" growled Fred.

Harry threw him a grin, then turned back to Inga. "Do you have a camera?" he asked in a whisper.

Inga's eyes sparkled and she ran to a cabinet in the corner. "Movie, magical or still?" she called.

"Magical will do," Harry replied.

Both Weasley men looked at each other and groaned. This was blackmail material of unparalleled value.

Harry took the camera from Inga and proceeded to get a number of photos, including several spectacular eruptions, before he gave it back to Inga with instructions to send the film off for processing right away. Towards the end, the twins had taken to mugging for the camera, playing up their role as rocket propelled prisoners.

With the film on it's way out of the building, Harry released the two Weasley men and conjured chairs for everyone to sit on.

Fred and George eyed Harry and the chairs warily, but sat anyway.

"Alright boys, you asked me to come down here. I certainly didn't expect was to find you two locked up. Although, I must admit, the idea has appealed to me from time to time," Harry said.

"Really, Harry, that wasn't our idea. Our lab assistant, Amy, asked us to try out these new interrogation cages she was working on. Next thing we know, we're locked in and she's petrified the girls. Then she walked out, claiming she deserved a day or two off from working with lunatics like us," Fred explained.

"Can you imagine? Calling us lunatics?" asked George

"Unbelievable, really," replied Fred.

"So, anyway, Amy walked off, never noticing she's wearing one of our lab coats," George said seriously.

"Nasty piece of business, those coats," Fred commented.

"Quite. We charmed them to constrict anyone removing one from the lab," George said proudly.

"Right. The further she gets from the office, the worse it gets," added Fred.

"She can't take it off either," George threw in as an afterthought.

Fred turned to George. "Did we mention it also dissolves all clothing under the coat?"

"I don't think so," replied George. "But I doubt Harry's interested in that."

"Boys," chided Inga. "I don't think Mr. Potter wants to know all the details."

"True. He wouldn't be interested in the exploding dye pack sewn into the lining of the coat," Helga added.

"Or the container of fire ants that will break open once the coat constricts," Inga added, her eyes shinning with glee.

Harry looked skyward beseechingly for a moment, then he looked to the four of them. "Was there a reason why you asked me down? Or are you simply trying to prove Amy right?"

Helga smacked her head and looked at Harry seriously. "Oh, right! You're building a factory to make your portals!"

Harry blinked in surprise, then shook his head. "You know, I hadn't thought about it, but I suppose I am."

"We were hoping that we could use part of that facility to make the Masking Amulets," Inga said. "Right now we'd probably have to ask a company overseas to make them for us. It would be much more useful if we could make them ourselves. It would also increase security around them."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. "I don't know who's handling that. Can I use your floo to call over to the manor? Remus should know."

"Here, use this," Fred said, tossing him a small, oblong object.

Harry examined the miniaturized floo, admiring the detailed construction that went into the little device. Then he depressed the lever, which dropped powder into the small flame.

"Remus Lupin," he called.

"Harry?" came a tinny little voice.

"Right in one, Remus. Look, has Hermione talked to you about building a place to make the portals yet?"

"Yes. I'm looking over the information package she prepared right now, but I haven't done anything about it. This is going to require specialized construction crews to put together. I'm trying to get a hold of the same contractor we used to put up the main Haven complex, as well as the Granger Publications building," Remus replied.

"Excellent. When you arrange the meeting with the contractor, would you include either Inga or Helga from Q Branch?"

"I can do that, Harry. Can I ask why?"

"We're going to let them use part of the facility for mass production of some of their toys. Including someone from Q Branch in the meeting will save us having to build something later, don't you think?"

Even though Harry couldn't see Remus, in his mind he could see his friend mulling over his last statement and nodding to himself.

"Makes sense to me, Harry. I'll let Inga know when I have the meeting scheduled," Remus said.

"Thanks, Remus. I'll see you back at the manor in a while," Harry replied, then he closed the cap, shutting off the connection. He tried to give the miniature floo back to Fred, but he held up his hands, refusing to take it.

"Keep it, Harry. We're planning on issuing them to all field and unit level commanders next week anyway. You just got yours early."

Harry smiled and pocketed the floo, while marveling at the twins' ingenuity. Standing, he walked towards the door, waving as he exited Q Branch. He wanted to check in on several other things before heading back to the manor.

Echo Six, over the North Sea (Oct 15th)...

The EP-3E Aries banked and the radar operator had to hold onto his console for a moment while the plane bucked against the early morning turbulence. The Aries was a old plane design, with four large turbo-prop engines, but it continued to be one of the workhorses of the American Navy. The basic design allowed the plane to perform a variety of missions, from Anti-Surface warfare to Anti-Submarine warfare.

This particular variant, the EP-3E, was different. Old the plane might be, but inside it was filled with state of the art intelligence gathering hardware, radio receivers, radars, computers to process the information and code breaking equipment. It was a flying spy platform. With it, a properly trained crew could see what was happening on the ground for hundreds of miles.

The radar operator made a few adjustments to his display once the plane came out of its bank and steadied up on it's flight path. Then he noted movement on his console.

"Sir, I'm showing convoy movement, map reference P4, grid H5, just west of Elgin on A96. From the speed and size, I'd estimate a tracked convoy, possibly brigade strength," the operator said.

The commander nodded and reached for a microphone. A96 led directly into Inverness and they didn't want that city reinforced.

"Starbase, Starbase, Echo Six. We have movement, brigade strength. Map reference P4, grid H5. Target is west of Elgin, following A96, speed twenty. Standby for uplink of data."

A moment later a voice blared over a speaker, acknowledging the information and ordering Echo Six to maintain station. Within an hour, two different aircraft carriers were launching airstrikes. The allies of the British Government in Exile were finally committing themselves.

Padfoot Manor...

"...so the Wizengamot is basically on hold right now, Harry. Everything is going on behind the scenes in the committee. From what I understand, they're still trying to narrow down the rules of how the committee will operate. Coeur de Lion is pushing hard to be committee chairman, and Trenton Largo is pushing for the same thing for our side. But there are three neutral members who are making things interesting. From what Trenton tells me, I don't expect the committee to be functioning for at least another week, perhaps two," Amelia said smugly.

Harry nodded thoughtfully. Neville's idea had the unintended result of tying the Wizengamot up in knots while they argued over petty points of procedure and who would be leading their committee. Both Harry and Neville had recused themselves from being nominated to the committee, citing their current duties at the Operations Center.

Harry looked at Michael O'Dalley, who had accompanied Amelia today. It bothered him. O'Dalley, as head of the town constables, was in charge of security for the town of Haven. If he was here, there was a problem.

"Thank you, Amelia. I must admit the Wizengamot session was... enlightening," Harry said, trying to be polite about it.

Those in the room snickered. His opinion of the Wizengamot had been heard quite loudly throughout the manor the night of the meeting.

"Harry, Michael does have something else to bring up with you. Right now it's early and we're not positive, but it's something you should know about," Amelia said uncomfortably.

Harry turned to Michael.

"My Lord, in the last week we've had several incidents, all aimed at either muggles or squibs. The worst of these was four days ago when Morgan Lachlan, the owner of Headlines and Beans, was seriously injured by a curse. He was a deliberate target and, as far as we can tell, the only reason for the attack was the fact that he's a squib, offering muggle newspapers for sale.

"Since then, there has been some vandalism of other muggle or squib owned businesses. A lot of sour rumors are going around about how the muggles and squibs are taking over Haven. Most folks are ignoring it, but you know as well as I do that not everyone will.

"We're working to try to find who injured Mr. Lochlan. We're also trying to find the source of the problem, but we're stretched thin at the moment. We've had to enlist the aid of Irish Aurors to investigate the attack..."

"How badly was he injured?" Harry asked, interrupting O'Dalley.

"He'll survive, my Lord, but the healers are doubtful that he'll ever walk again," O'Dalley said quietly.

Harry's expression hardened. "I know Morgan. He was one of the first Irish squibs to move here with his family to open that shop. It was his life long dream to stay in the Wizarding community and offer it a taste of the muggle world. What's happening with his family and his business?"

"From what I understand, his wife has taken over the business, but she can't keep it running the usual hours, what with her running back and forth between the business and the hospital. Their two children, Jeremy, age nine and Cynthia, age six, are still in school. Cynthia has tested positive for being a witch, by the way. The boy is definitely a squib. His wife is more than a little frantic."

Harry bowed his head a minute and he sighed heavily before looking up again. "Hermione, contact Mr. Lovegood and ask if he'd be interested in an interview for his paper. We can't allow this anti-muggle behavior to go unchecked. I'm afraid we're going to have to take an official stand."

Hermione looked up from the notes she was taking. "We?" she asked in surprise.

"Yes. Both of us. With our background, we need to come out openly against this sort of behavior. The Lachlan's have nearly lost their business and probably will if something isn't done about it. I'm going to open up an account for their family and put enough in it to see to their needs. We'll invite specialists from around the world to Haven, to see about helping Mr. Lachlan. Haven is more than just a town or a super refugee camp, it's supposed to be a family," he told her softly.

The others in the room looked at each other, abashed. They'd forgotten the purpose of Haven, and many a face burned with the shame of it.

Amelia removed her monocle and wiped her eyes with a handkerchief. "It's a good thing you're doing, Harry," she said.

"It's simple, Amelia. If we're going to build a world where muggle born are as accepted as any pure blood, we have to take a visible stand against the racism. What happened to Mr. Lachlan was wrong on so many levels I can't even begin to describe how I feel about it. And were it not for the fact that Hermione is receiving the same training as the Aurors are, I'd be reluctant to let her go into Haven without an escort. We make this public. The Ministry won't stand for this sort of racism anymore, nor will I."

Remus looked up from his notes. "How much do you want to put into that account, Harry?"

"Figure one hundred thousand, Remus, half for the family and half to cover the medical expenses, which have to be considerable," Harry said after some thought. "I'll talk to Healer August and ask her to warn me if the expenses exceed that amount."

He turned back to O'Dalley. "Michael, don't let this get out of hand. We have nearly one thousand muggles and squibs in town. If you need to, hire on more constables."

"Harry, it's not that simple anymore. There are members of the Wizengamot who are openly racist. It's encouraging some of the baser people in our town," Amelia protested.

Harry rubbed his temples with both hands, and closed his eyes. "Someone tell me again why it was a good idea to rescue the Wizengamot from Azkaban? Couldn't we have left them behind?"

Nearly everyone smiled.

"Harry, you know you wouldn't have left anyone in those cells," Remus chided him gently.

He smiled weakly. "No, but I can dream about it, can't I?" He looked around at those in the room, then sat up straighter. "Alright, the Ministry can't step on too many toes, but I think I may have a work around. It should also irk Mr. 'I-am-from-royalty-so-kiss-my-buttocks'. I'll just ask some of our Yank friends if they'd like a little extra training creeping around a town at night. They'd be sure to stop any illegal activity, and the Wizengamot can't do a thing except complain about the Yanks. After all, it is training."

Several people exchanged surprised looks. The fighters who had been sent over by the Americans had all started off as Aurors. Harry was going to ask them to police their own base, so to speak. It just might work!

"My Lord, I am going to suggest we hold off on that for a while. An independent body patrolling our streets smacks of vigilantism," O'Dalley said quietly.

Harry sighed. "Very well, Michael. But if it becomes necessary, talk to me and I'll set it up."

O'Dalley nodded and looked relieved.

Harry then turned to Group Captain Anderson, who had also accompanied Amelia to this meeting. "Group Captain, it's a pleasure to see you again. I take it you have some information you'd like to share with us today?"

Anderson nodded. "Yes, my lord, I do. Starting at oh four hundred this morning, the British Government, using NATO facilities on the continent, and it's Allies have begun their campaign against those forces in control in Britain. If I may, my lord?"

Anderson pointed to the large map on the wall. Harry nodded and silently wondered to himself if Anderson was one of those types who always needed to talk in front of a board or map or something.

"Pay attention, my heart," Hermione sent him.

"Sorry, got distracted for a moment," he replied sheepishly.

Anderson stood and walked to the map. He took out a pencil and circled several locations on the continent, then he turned back to Harry.

"We realize that not much can be done until we have the wizards out of the way, or at least distracted. His Majesty's Government, in agreement with our Allies, have opted to go for what is commonly called 'targets of opportunity'. It means that we'll attack any targets that present themselves, using allied air forces. The primary goal is to bring about a reduction of the mechanized forces of the rebel government."

Harry nodded. He had been reading the material Anderson had been sending over, which explained a lot about the muggle military and how it was set up.

Amelia looked puzzled by Anderson's comments.

Caleb saw her confusion. "If you'd like, Group Captain Anderson and I will prepare a special briefing to explain some of the terms we're using," he told her.

"Thank you, Caleb," she replied.

"My Lord," Caleb said as he turned back to Harry, "I think it's time we discuss what the elves have found. As you know, they have been searching Britain for the two camps used to house wizards and their families."

Harry motioned for Caleb to continue.

Caleb's expression turned grim. "We've found a number of muggle camps where people have been placed for the purposes of providing slave labor. The conditions in them are brutal to an extreme. It reminds me of some things I've read about under the Nazi regime of World War II. One Wizarding camp, a family camp, has been positively identified as being just outside Leeds. Another is south of Manchester, but we haven't positively identified that one yet. Our search is continuing, on the off chance that there may be others we don't know about.

"The number of camps and what is happening in them is disturbing. We cannot possibly attack each camp and rescue the prisoners. All we can do is train hard and wait until conditions are right for us to go back and take what was once ours."

Harry listened carefully. The camps were a touchy issue between them, but even Caleb was coming to realize that they couldn't rescue everyone.

"Mr. Newman?"

Caleb blinked and looked at Hermione. She rarely broke into these conversations.

"My lady?"

"Just what are they doing with the slave labor?" she asked in a small voice.

Caleb frowned and Harry leaned towards Hermione, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Do you really want to know?" he asked her.

Hermione nodded jerkily.

Harry leaned back and motioned to Caleb to relax.

"Girls, ages thirteen to the late twenties, are used as sex slaves," Harry said in a dull tone. "They are bought, traded and given as rewards to whomever pleases the masters. People over sixty are usually killed outright. Young men and boys are sometimes used as sex slaves as well, but mostly the wizards use them to train other Death Eaters in mastering the Unforgivables.

"Middle aged women and men are put to work, cleaning up the burnt out streets. A few lucky ones are used as workers in factories that provide material for the army."

"This is what you've been hiding from me in your mind, isn't it?" Hermione asked. She shook her head. "I'm sorry I asked."

She looked pale. Harry sent her a mental caress and was surprised to find her holding onto it.

"Hermione?"

"I'm sorry. It's just that it was so unreal until you started talking. I knew people were suffering, but here in Haven, it seems distant and abstract."

"I know. It's not something any of us wants to talk about. It makes us all feel guilty... or at least I do."

He could feel the agreement bubbling over the link. Sometimes words, even mental ones, just weren't necessary.

A96, west of Elgin, Scotland...

The British Army under Lord Voldemort was a drastically changed organization. Once the bastion of professional soldiers with a proud history, it had sunk very far from its proud roots. Most of the Officer Corps had been replaced with men who had far less training and far fewer morals. Discipline in the army had become draconian, where even a small infraction resulted in severe corporal punishment, if not hanging.

Lucius had seen to the gutting of the army. It was part of his plan. He kept the command staffs intact, for the most part, so that he could take advantage of their superior military knowledge and tactics. But the unit commanders had all been replaced in favor of men easily controlled.

Colonel Masters was one such individual. Before Voldemort, he had been a petty enforcer for a local crime syndicate with a tendency to be too brutal. A wizard had found him not long after the fall of the government. He had already accumulated his own stable of girls, usually by killing their husbands or boyfriends. The wizard, recognizing talent, brought him to the attention of others, who then placed him in his current position, in charge of the First Mechanized Brigade.

Colonel Masters was incensed. Due to heavy insurgent activity they had been forced to travel up the coast roads, making the foraging for food and petrol difficult. Many of the small towns had been picked clean and few of the farms in the area were still producing anything. Passing through Elgin, one of his scouting parties had stumbled upon a fisherman coming in from the coast with a large load of fresh fish he hoped to barter in the bigger town.

Rather than just taking it like they should, his men had traded petrol, valuable batteries and bullets for the two hundred pounds of fish. They had then slowed the entire convoy down while the fish was transferred to a refrigerated truck.

Masters smirked and climbed back down the turret of his Saxon Armored Personnel Carrier. Inside the cramped space he had several of his 'girls' as he called them, plus the driver and two men for security.

"Well, I showed that idiot," Masters boasted, then he grabbed one of the weeping girls and fondled her roughly.

"That you did, Colonel. That you did. I've never seen a man's head run over by a APC before," said one of his security team.

Masters laughed and grabbed the bottle the man offered him.

Overhead, two flights of four Navy F18-E's roared up the road, barely nine hundred feet off the ground. They came up from behind the convoy and few had a chance to open up with anti-aircraft fire. Each F18's carried four cluster bombs. Each bomb fell a specified distance before splitting open and releasing two hundred and two bomblets each.

In a matter seconds, six thousand four hundred and sixty four mortar sized bombs were dropped. They fell among the convoy, piercing the weaker armor of the APCs. Some units were unlucky enough to have bombs fall into open hatches. The resulting explosions tore apart the interior of the APC's, shredding the men within. Fires started and spread quickly through the convoy. Many of the supply trucks, less protected than than the APC's, were engulfed in flames and their munitions cooked off, causing secondary explosions.

Thirty minutes later, when the smoke finally began to clear from the scene, the First Mechanized Brigade from Third Division had ceased to exist. Inverness would not be getting the reinforcements as promised. The small garrison would have to hold the city on their own for now.

Echo Six, still monitoring the convoy, reported that over eighty percent of the convoy vehicles had been destroyed and those vehicles still moving probably didn't have the supplies to go very far.

The two flights of F18-E's turned east to head out over the North Sea before turning south again. No one wanted to risk the possibility that someone in the British Army might still have a significant anti-air capability.

Haven Operations Center (October 20th)...

Caleb looked up when his door opened and he spotted Harry. "Come in, my Lord," he called, waving him in.

Harry walked in and sat down, watching Caleb expectantly.

The Deputy Minister of Defense stood and walked over to a large wall map that had two locations marked in a bright pulsating red. The map was dotted with other markings, but these were the most important, as far as he was concerned.

"Elf scouts have confirmed the locations of the Wizarding camps. The locations of the other camps has been passed to Group Captain Anderson so that the muggle governments can plan appropriately. Our concern is the camp at Leeds and the other in Wilmslow, south of Manchester. Both camps have a large Wizarding guard unit and a population of Dementors that we're estimating to be at least one hundred strong."

Harry frowned. They wouldn't have the help of the Angels for this operation. It had been confirmed that the Angels had made it to Britain and were spreading out, killing any Dementors they came across. But there wasn't any way to concentrate them and transport them to the camps.

"The planning is already in the works for the raid on these camps. What I'm going need you to do is take command of the units assaulting the Leeds camp. We're pushing Stanton, the Yank who did so well with Able company at Azkaban, to take command of the Wilmslow assault."

Caleb paused waiting for Harry to digest this.

"You'll have a total of five companies under your command. That's seven hundred men, including a certain set of recruits that you had us train."

Harry winced. He knew that sooner or later he'd be going back into battle, but now he had to figure out what to do with his wife and the others. It wasn't something he was looking forward to.

Nodding at Caleb, he pulled out a parchment and began to take notes while the Deputy Minister outlined the rough draft of the mission.

"We're going to need a lot of people capable of casting a Patronus," Harry finally said.

Caleb moved back to his chair and sat heavily. "Merlin knows we will. Stanton has an idea that a Dementor might be slowed down by ice, maybe even trapped if it were encased in it. But we have no way of testing that idea. Right now you need to concentrate on building your command staff and setting up training schedules. I don't like the idea of putting the raid off, but we are going to need at least a month to prepare for this," he said worriedly.

"I'll start looking over who I have and I'll set up a training schedule that will include a refresher on the Patronus," Harry said. Then he paused and frowned. "Caleb," he said slowly, "you haven't told me how many people are in these camps."

Caleb leaned forward on his chair, resting his arms on his desk. "The Leeds camp has close to two thousand, the other has a similar population."

Harry sucked in a breath and stared at the man in shock. Rescuing four thousand people? This was much higher than anticipated.

Caleb chuckled at his reaction. "Don't worry. Most of the prisoners will be going, via portkey, to the states. The Yanks have offered to set up an abandoned muggle army base to receive them. They're recruiting healers and volunteers to be ready at the drop of a hat to aid the refugees. At best we'll get five hundred here but, even then, there's no guarantee they'll stay here."

Harry nodded. "Very well. If there is nothing else, Caleb, I'd best be on my way. I have a lot of work to do."

Once Harry left the office, Caleb turned back to the piles of paperwork on his desk. How Miles ever managed to survive the tedium of it was a mystery to him.

Padfoot Manor, that evening...

Harry entered the sitting room, followed by Hermione. Arrayed inside the room was the entire Brotherhood. They had come together because Harry had asked for them to meet after dinner. Eocho floated in through the wall and took up a spot next to Harry.

"I won't waste any time with this, so I'll get right to the point. In a little over a month's time we will be assaulting the Wizard camp at Leeds. The assault on Leeds will be completed using five companies - that's seven hundred troops, including every Brotherhood member who has been trained to fight. We have two goals. First to rescue every prisoner in the camp. Second to kill as many Death Eaters as we can." he told them, then sat down as the news sank in.

"So... what will we be doing?" asked Ginny cautiously.

Harry smiled at the red head. "To be truthful, I'm not sure yet."

He waved off the scowls he received. "Now, before you all start thinking about burning me at the stake, let me explain that I need to figure out where you'll be most useful. Headquarters company and one other will handle perimeter security. Afterwards, we'll be setting up the traps once the camp is cleared."

He saw them exchange a grin among themselves and decided they needed a dose of reality. As Ginny had asked the question, he chose to address his comments to her.

"Ginny, this isn't going to be a picnic trip we're going on. I've seen the photos the elves have taken. We're going to be seeing parents walking around in a daze, carrying their dead children in their arms. We're going to be dealing with people who have been brutalized and forced to live like animals. I've seen photos of mother's prostituting themselves for an extra sliver of meat for their children. People are going to die. Where I put you, I expect you to stay and follow the orders of your commanding officer. That means if you're under Draco, you do what he says. Same goes for me, or if you're under an officer you don't know," he said firmly.

Ginny frowned and looked around before turning back to Harry. "Do you really think we'd go against orders, Harry?"

"Honestly? I don't know. I know that Hermione would hex me if I gave her an order, and yet she's going to be in a position where I, or someone else, will be doing just that. I don't believe for an instant she'd have a problem with someone else giving her an order. But me? Look, I'm not trying to make anyone angry here, so let's just settle down," he said, noticing the glare he got from Hermione.

"Harry!"

"Relax, love. I don't think you'll have a problem with this, but Ginny might. I didn't want to single her out, so I'm using all of you."

"Alright. I'll let it slide for now."

"This will be a new situation and, fortunately, we have time to train for it. But Harry has a valid point. Once we're in the field, even if it's just training, you can't break discipline," Neville said quietly.

"Starting tomorrow we begin training from noon to six. Then we'll use the time turner and do it again. That's twelve hours, folks, We have ten days to get everyone in shape before we start training on full sized mock-ups of the camps," Harry told them commandingly.

Everyone groaned.

Haven Operations Center (October 25th)...

Harry walked onto the small stage and faced his friends. "All of you are capable of some wandless magic. What I'm about to show you now is something your hand to hand instructor didn't teach you, because he can't do wandless magic. Draco, if you would join me up here, please?"

Draco stood and stripped out of his shirt before joining him on the stage.

"Hand to hand combat is something that most of our troops learn because they'd be defenseless if they lost their wand in combat. Some people augment their fighting with knives and other weapons. I found myself at a disadvantage in most sparring matches because my leg is an obvious weak spot. Many of my sparring partners would take advantage of my reduced mobility or attack my leg, first."

Hermione frowned and crossed her arms. She hadn't known Harry was subjecting himself to partners who would go for a spot that caused him intense pain.

"We weren't far into the training when I did something by accident. Draco, if you will?" Harry asked before he turned his back on him.

Draco rushed Harry from behind and grabbed him around the neck. The two struggled for a moment, then Harry bent forwards and Draco went flying over him. It was a normal throw that they had all practiced, but rather than being thrown a few feet away, Draco was pitched high into the air.

He pivoted in the air and landed in a crouch, facing Harry.

They exchanged a feral grin, then Harry rushed him. Draco charged forward and the two collided. This time Draco slid in under Harry's grip and flipped him a good twelve feet into the air.

Hermione gasped and started to rise from her seat. Luna grabbed her by the arm and held her in place.

"Watch," she murmured, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Harry righted himself at the top of his arc and he wandlessly slowed his fall. He landed on his good leg, dropped, and rolled right up to Draco, knocking him off his feet.

Harry stood up and offered a hand to Draco, who was still on the floor. When the blond grasped his hand, he pulled him to his feet.

"Thank you," Harry told him, patting him lightly on the back.

Draco nodded and returned to his seat next to Luna.

"I'm going to teach you three spells. Although there is no real incantation for these spells, they do work. What you need to learn to do is to cast these soundlessly and wandlessly.

We'll use Fulcio, or Strengthen, as an example. Think carefully of the muscles in your arm and cast Fulcio. If you've done it right, you'll experience a brief moment where your muscles become stronger for about three to five seconds. Trust me, you'll feel it.

"Each of these spells will do something to a group of muscles. Fulcio, Cito and Congelo, or strengthen, quicken and harden, allows you to increase your muscle speed, your strength and harden the bones and skin helping to prevent injuries.

"For the next few hours we're going to practice casting these spells and using them in hand to hand combat. Then we'll break off with partners and spar with each other."

Harry stepped off the stage and walked over to Hermione, grinning. She stood and they both moved over to a punching bag anchored in one corner of the large room.

"Ready to try this, love?" he sent to her.

"I think so."

"Just hit the bag without the spells for a moment while I brace it."

Harry walked around to the opposite side of the bag and leaned into it. "Now try," he said.

Hermione hit the bag a few times and Harry waved her to stop. "Think about your arm. Think about the muscles, bone and sinews all being part of a greater whole. Picture that firmly in your mind, then cast your spell silently and hit the bag."

Harry leaned against the bag and watched her with his senses fully extended. He saw her aura spike as she cast the spell, then it begin to fade before she lashed out at the bag.

Hermione stopped and frowned.

"Do you know what you did wrong?" Harry sent her.

"I think so. I waited too long, right?"

"Right. You only have a few seconds. When you get used to this, you'll be casting these spells as you throw the punch, rather than casting and then punching."

He braced himself behind the bag and waited again. A moment later Hermione hit the bag and he was pushed back a few inches. She had managed to increase her punching power.

"Good. Keep going," he murmured.

Three hours later he called a break and everyone sat around on the mats, drinking and talking. Neville and Draco had spoken privately to Harry, telling him that their wives had picked up the technique. All that was left was to check on the progress of Remus and Tonks.

Harry stood and walked over to the same punching bag he and Hermione had been using. Once there, he called Tonks to join him.

The metamorph looked surprised for a moment before standing and trotting over to him.

"So, how are you doing?" he asked.

Tonks shrugged. "Most of this training is similar to what I'm used to. Your demonstration today was the first real new thing I've seen. I know that will change once we start working in units, but so far it's just be exercising and fighting. We've had a little dueling thrown into the mix, as well."

"Have you and Remus been able to master using the spells like I've shown you?"

Tonks nodded, grinning. "It's easier than what I used to do, using my metamorph abilities to help with my fighting. That took too long to get set up for."

Harry leaned into the punching bag. "Show me," he said.

He was surprised when Tonks started hitting the bag. She was pushing him much harder than Hermione did, and he knew Hermione was a stronger witch, magically. Opening up his senses, he looked carefully at what she was doing. Then he smiled and waved her to stop.

"If this were a match competition, I could say you were cheating, using both your metamorph abilities and the spells. But frankly, I'd rather have you alive than following rules. I take it Remus is also taking advantage of his wolf enhanced abilities?"

Tonks nodded, her eyes dancing. He laughed and waved her back to the others.

Harry sat down, leaning against the wall and mentally reviewed the reports from the instructors again. Some of the Brotherhood were vicious fighters. Ginny, for example, was agile, ruthless, and not afraid to use dirty tactics to win a fight. Her hand to hand combat instructor noted that she was especially enamored with crotch shots if she could get away with it. He shuddered and made a mental note to avoid sparring with her.

Tonks and Remus also received high marks from their instructors, but then Harry expected them to. Both were highly motivated and had lost people in the war. For them, it had become personal enough that they could fight - and kill - if need be.

Luna was an odd duck, he thought with a bit of a smile. He had a special fondness for her. He glanced over at his friends and was surprised to see Luna looking back at him with a small smile. According to her instructors, Luna was perhaps the most unpredictable one of the lot. She danced about the combat ring, seemingly oblivious to everything around her. Then she would strike suddenly, invariably dealing a blow requiring medical attention. Her instructor noted in her file that she was actually afraid of Luna.

Harry sighed when he came to the final person. Hermione. She had trained well enough and was competent, but her instructor complained about her recurring lack of aggressiveness. He needed to find out if she was capable of fighting now, before he jeopardized others by putting her in a combat situation.

Standing, he walked back to the group.

"Alright, you lot. Let's team off for a little sparring for another hour, then we'll call it quits for the day," he said to the roaring approval of everyone there.

He led Hermione over to a combat ring where they could spar.

"Ready?"

"Let's do it," she called to him.

A bell rang and she immediately moved forward, in a defensive crouch. Harry side stepped her and jabbed, catching her in the side. She blinked and looked at him, her eyes narrowing.

"Come on, love. You can do better than this. If I were a Death Eater, I'd be casting away like crazy and you're still on the defensive," he called.

Hermione rushed him. Then, instead of grabbing him as he expected, she high kicked. Harry stepped back from the kick and dropped to the floor where he swept her legs, causing her to crash to the floor. A moment later he was up and bouncing around the ring, waiting for her.

"Come on, Hermione. You can do this. Where's the Gryffindor courage? Where's the girl that decked the ferret in our third year?"

Draco turned and scowled at Harry. Luna took advantage of his inattention and dropped him to the mat, moaning in pain.

"Pay attention Dray," she said sweetly, dancing around the mat.

Hermione growled, leapt to her feet and jabbed, catching Harry squarely in the nose. Her use of the spells knocked him into the ropes, where he tangled for a moment before sliding to the floor, bleeding heavily.

Hermione looked pleased with herself, until she realized what she'd done. Then she paled and rushed to his side.

Harry looked up at her. His eyes were already swelling and bruising.

Remus, from the nearby ring, saw Harry down and bleeding. "Medic!" he called, then pointed to Harry.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Hermione whispered, looking anguished.

"I dink... Blast.. Wif my doze broke..."

"It's alright, my heart. I had to find out if you'd give it your all and you did." he sent, then he turned to look at the Medic, who was climbing over the ropes to get to him.

Despite his reassurances, she continued to look upset while the Medic worked on fixing his nose.

"Harry?"

"Ouch! Yes?"

"I want to be with you when you fight, but I have to be honest with you and myself. I don't think I'm cut out for this."

The Medic rubbed some salve over the swelling and it immediately started to shrink as the color returned to normal. With a final deft wave of his wand, he stood and nodded to himself at a job well done.

Harry shot him a grateful glance, then turned his attention back to Hermione.

"I know, love..."

"You know? What do you mean, you know?" she sent back, her tone angry now.

"Hermione, your instructors have evaluated all of you. Your combat instructor cannot fault you for your technique, or your willingness to learn. What she did fault you on, however, was your lack of aggressiveness. She recommended against placing you in a combat company..."

There was a moment of defeated silence. Harry could see the impact of his words on his wife. She had never been given a bad grade or recommendation by a teacher in her life. Her shoulders slumped and she looked down at the mat, refusing to meet his eyes.

"I guess this puts me back in a strictly research role and waiting idly by for you to come home?"

Harry winced at the pain he could feel in her mental voice.

"No, love. It doesn't have to be that way."

"We both know I'm rubbish at this. And don't fob me off with lame excuses about how important research is."

"I wouldn't. And what I have in mind means you won't have to stay behind." At her incredulous look, he rolled his eyes. "I'm serious. But there are a few conditions you have to agree to, or I promise, you will stay behind with your parents."

"What conditions?" she sent warily as she crouched down to his level.

"Everyone else in the Brotherhood will be going into a combat role, and so will you. However, your role as a combatant will be limited. Should you actually have to fight, I want you to promise me something. You will fight and hold nothing back. I mean it, Hermione. If you have to fight, I want you to fight as hard as you can. Your life, our life together, will depend upon it," he sent fiercely.

She placed a hand on his shoulder. She could feel him getting upset. "Easy there. I'll fight, Harry. I may lose, but I promise I'll take down as many as I can before I do!"

Harry stared into her eyes, searching them for an answer he couldn't get from mere words, or even their bond. Finally, he closed his eyes and nodded slowly, as if it pained him to do so.

"Fine. I'm putting you in charge of the Unit Command Post. It will be your job to see that the CP is set up when we hit the ground. Then you'll need to see to the perimeter security. This isn't some fluff job, love. The security for the command post is critical. It's the same job I did at Azkaban. so you could end up in a fight. It also means you'll be my link between what the companies are doing and what's happening back here in Haven. It's an important job."

Hermione sat on the floor next to him, saying nothing. Harry had led troops in combat during the Azkaban mission. However, before the replacements had come up from the docks, he'd been running the command post and making sure that information was flowing both ways.

It dawned on her that Harry was doing his best to keep his promise of letting her be with him when they fought. But he was also trying to balance what he wanted versus what he needed as a mission commander, responsible for all the lives on the mission.

He held his breath. He knew she was thinking hard about what he had said. He didn't want to intrude using the bond, so he waited for her to come to a decision.

"I'll take the position, Commander," she said impishly.

Harry grinned at her. He still had to tell the others where and what they'd be doing, but the hardest one was done. He tentatively touched his nose, noting it was still a little sore. Then he stood, offering Hermione a hand up and squaring his shoulders.

It was time for him to talk to the others and outline where they would be and what they'd be doing in the upcoming battle.

Luna Lends a Hand (October 28th)...

Draco climbed into bed, exhausted and aching. They had started unit training and it was almost as grueling as their hand to hand training. His aches had aches. It didn't help his ego one bit when he discovered that it never seemed to bother Luna. He had overheard Harry talking about having to help Hermione with massages and hot soaks and he hoped he'd be able to do the same. But Luna never complained about any aches. She seemed her bouncy buoyant self, no matter how hard the training session had been.

He groaned and pulled the sheet up over his head. Luna was bouncing around the room. She had changed into a nightgown that should have been declared illegal.

"Wakey, wakey," she sang to him, pulling off the sheet.

"Luna, it's nearly midnight! Aren't you tired yet?" he complained, pulling a pillow over his head.

"Not yet, my love. We have something to do tonight, while there's still time! Come, get up and put on your robe and slippers. It's a little chilly outside."

Draco peeked out from under his pillow. "Outside? You want us to go outside at this time of night?"

She laughed. "Oh, don't be as stuffy as a herd of beach crawling Nickerers. They never have any fun either, Dray. Come on, this will be fun and educational."

"Fine," he muttered, throwing off the pillow and stepping into his slippers, before pulling on his robe.

Luna pulled on Draco's hand, leading him down the stairs and out of the mansion. He shivered slightly in the chill autumn air and wondered if Luna was as cold as he was.

Onward they walked, Luna occasionally tugging on him, guiding him towards the school.

Draco followed and wondered if this had to do with the Angels again. In the distance, he was sure he could hear them, their melodic voices carrying softly on the night wind. The Angels had settled down somewhat since Luna had helped them and they no longer kept the school from sleeping at night.

Once in a while the two Angels would float amidst the buildings of the school and start to sing. It wasn't a loud sound, but it was heard throughout the campus. The two Angels would separate and start by calling to each other. Then their calls would intertwine, forming a gentle melody that could be heard by everyone. Not a single student or teacher reported any difficulty sleeping through these night time concerts.

Luna finally came to a stop in the large central courtyard of the school. It was, for the most part, just a big field, with the buildings running along the edges. House elves tended the grassy field so that students would be able to enjoy a nice comfortable place to sit and study in milder weather, and a place where plenty of snow would pile up for snowball fights in winter weather. Now, however, the courtyard was empty, except for two Angels gently floating on the nighttime breeze.

Spotting Luna, both Angels unfurled their wings and made their way to her. She reached up and they grabbed her hands. The glow around the beings increased for a moment before it returned to normal.

"I know how difficult it can be," she murmured to them. Then she turned and motioned for Draco to approach them.

"This is my Draco," she told them seriously. "He is my life mate, my love and my protector. Without him, I would be lost. There is nothing I would not do for him."

Draco looked at Luna, then up at the Angels in confusion. The smaller Angel broke from Luna's grasp and drifted over to him. He assumed the smaller Angel was the female.

"Luna, what's going on?" he asked nervously as he felt the Angel's warm, velvet-like hand gently grasp his.

"Don't be afraid, Dray. She won't hurt you. They need to see," She replied dreamily.

"See? See what?"

"How it's done."

He frowned. Sometimes getting information out of Luna was a most frustrating experience.

The Angel holding Draco's hand led him over to where his wife stood, still holding the hand of the larger Angel. Luna reached out and took his hand, while the angels also joined hands, forming a circle.

"Open your mind, Dray," Luna murmured softly. "Let them see what they must."

Draco blinked rapidly, unsure of what to do when, for no reason he could determine, his occlumency shield failed completely and he was suddenly bombarded by image after image of the most erotic nature. He saw in his mind the first time he and Luna made love, then many of the other encounters he and his wife had experienced together, all of them of an erotic, sexual nature. He also saw images flowing over his bond from Luna. And, much to his shame, some of his deepest fantasies that he hadn't shared with her flowed towards her.

Finally the images faded and he could sense his surroundings again.

The two Angels released themselves from the circle and spread their wings. The larger of the two rose high into the air, calling to his mate. She rose to his call and he swooped down next to her. She closed the final distance and wrapped her wings around him like a second set of arms. The male spread his wings wide, pumping furiously to keep both of them airborne. The two began to sing then, but this song was different from other songs they'd sung. It began with a low, slow tempo and slowly increased in speed and volume. As they sang, the light coming from them changed from white to a deep pink.

The male carried the both of them higher and higher.

Luna stood next to Draco, whose eyes were fixed on the flying Angels. He never felt her hand slipping into his. The Angels were surrounding by a deep pink aura and their unique brand of magic flowed off them in waves.

Draco trembled as each wave of magic washed over him, increasing his desire. It had been bad enough when it had been fueled by the images that had flooded their bond a few minutes ago. Now, with the magic flowing from the Angels, he wasn't sure he could control himself.

"Luna..." he breathed huskily.

She looked at him, noting his condition. She could feel the magic flowing from the Angels and it filled her with pride, as if her babies were growing up. But it obviously didn't affect her the way it was affecting him. She would have been surprised to know that Draco wasn't the only one affected. Several teachers and some students were busy finding hiding spots for their liaisons or casting privacy charms around their beds.

She placed a hand on his shoulder and the contact widened their bond. She reeled back from the overwhelming desire he was experiencing. He wanted her and her own body shuddered from the intensity of his emotions and physical reaction.

Luna glanced up at the Angels and noted that they no longer needed their help. With a quick tug on Draco's hand, she pulled him towards the edge of the apparation wards and home.

Near Sibiu, Romania (October 29th)...

Nickolai had been true to his word, Dumbledore thought. He had provided Dumbledore with a spacious castle in Transylvania where he could train Nickolai's men. There were more men than he had anticipated, but it wouldn't impact his plans too much.

The window showed snow capped mountains and lights lit up the valley below where villages and small farms dotted the countryside. Some parts of the castle were depressingly familiar, reminding him of his Hogwarts, now in the clutches of Voldemort.

He turned from the window and watched the two men dueling on the platform. "NO, NO, NO!" he shouted. "You must cast faster!"

He walked to the platform and dismissed the man on one end, taking his place. "Now watch! Engarde!" he called.

Both men brought their wands to the ready position and began. Dumbledore cast a disarming charm, which his opponent neatly side stepped. Then the man turned and cast a cutting hex.

"Protego!" Dumbledore called, catching the cutting hex and rebounding it towards his opponent.

The man dodged his own spell and turned to cast again when Dumbledore shot off two spells silently.

His eyes widened and he cast a shield. The first spell, a simple stunner, crashed into the shield, weakening it greatly. The second spell blew through the shield, hitting the man in the shoulder. He screamed in pain from the tightly focused Reductor curse and fell to his knees, holding his broken shoulder, trying to stem the flow of blood.

Dumbledore smiled and walked to the center of the platform and faced the other men, who had been watching the duel.

"Learn to cast faster and silently. A simple combination of Stunner and Reductor will take down all but the strongest of shields in the Protego family of spells," Dumbledore said, then he turned to the injured man. "Someone get him to a healer."

Albus giggled as he walked off the platform and over to a nearby chair. It was so nice to see how eager his students were. And vicious too!

"Next pair to the dueling platform," he called, relaxing back on his seat.

Halloween in Haven...

Harry and Hermione stepped from the small nondescript building that had become the headquarters of Haven's one and only newspaper.

When Bertrand Lovegood started his paper with the help of the Ministry, he was unsure what to call it. For several weeks the paper went through name changes almost on a daily basis as Bertrand struggled to come up with what he felt was a good name. There was the Haven Howler, then The British Runaways, which only lasted one issue. Next came the The Daily Debunker, The Magical Press, The Angel Times and The Haven Reporter.

The name of the paper soon became a running joke among the residents of Haven. People even sent in suggestions to the editor. What clinched the name for good was a simple case of Bertrand overhearing some of his neighbors talking about the paper in the town square. And thus, Haven's one and only newspaper was officially named 'The Paper'.

The day the name was announced in forty point font on the front page, it was universally acclaimed by all the residents of Haven. Bertrand, using knowledge drawn from his experience working on the Quibbler, quickly turned The Paper from a single sheet handout to a multi-page newspaper with international subscriptions. It was the newspaper of choice for British expatriates around the world.

Bertrand turned to Harry as he escorted him and his wife out of the newspaper office. "I want to thank you again for your time, Lord Potter," he said happily. In the last day he had interviewed the Minister of Magic and the Potters, getting their views of the anti-muggle sentiment slowly growing in the community.

"Not at all, Mr. Lovegood. I know you're as upset about this as we are. If coming out publicly against what's happening will help, then we're glad to do it," Harry replied.

The two thanked Bertrand again before he rushed back inside to start writing his story for tomorrow's edition.

Harry and Hermione had originally apparated to the front of the building before going inside. Now, standing outside and seeing the town square, they were surprised by the amount of decorations in celebration of the holiday.

The fountain in the center of the square was gaily painted black and orange. Even the dubious Merlin statue had been painted.

Hermione slipped her hand into Harry's. "Shall we take a look around? I didn't know the town would be holding this big a celebration," she said.

Harry nodded, his eyes alight with curiosity.

They paused before entering the large square. Several of the pubs had spilled out onto the sidewalks and people were walking around, greeting others merrily. Several large bands of children roamed the square in costume.

"What in the world?" Harry muttered.

"Oh, I know this! They're Trick or Treaters. My parents, being dentists, frowned on it. The children like to dress up in costume on Halloween," Hermione exclaimed.

"TRICK OR TREAT!" a group of kids yelled as the approached the couple.

Harry looked at Hermione in confusion. The kids were dressed in all kinds of costumes, from Merlin to Vampires, and he would have sworn there was one E.T. in the group.

"You're supposed to give them a candy, or show them a trick," she whispered to him, then she turned. Someone was tugging on her shirt. She looked down and spotted Dobby holding up a large bag filled with Chocolate Frogs.

"Thank you, Dobby," she said softly, then turned to look at Harry and gasped.

He was busy levitating a group of giggling children. Each was floating, trying to reach a small glowing bubble. Hermione cast a quick spell and laughed when the kids grabbed at the bubble and it broke, revealing a Chocolate Frog. Once they caught their frogs, they gently floated to the ground.

Harry looked at her questioningly, then he spotted the bag she held.

"Dobby," she said, answering his unasked question.

He laughed. The little elf always seemed to know when they needed something. He looked around the square again and shook his head. This was something new, in their experience. Halloween at Hogwarts had always been a festive occasion, but growing up as muggles had never exposed them to what really happened when the Wizarding community celebrated.

They walked across the square, getting accosted several times by groups of children. Harry was certain that at least one group snuck back in for a repeat visit, but he really couldn't blame them. The company that made Chocolate Frogs had vanished when Britain fell, so the candy was very rare, and popular with the kids.

"Look! It's Harry!" shouted a small voice.

Harry turned and frowned. A small lad of no more than five or six led a large group of similarly aged children and one very frazzled looking adult towards him.

"Harry! I knew it was you!" said the lad happily.

Harry looked again, then he recognized the boy. It was Robert, one of the orphans adopted by the Johansens. He grinned then, thinking it was time to start handing out frogs again. Robert's hair had been charmed black and he wore a pair of fake eyeglasses. On his forehead was a lightening shaped line done with a marker, faking Harry's famous scar.

"Harry, you'll come to the pageant won't you? Oh, please say you'll come!" begged Robert.

"You have a fan, my love. He's got good taste, if you ask me."

"Very funny. What's this pageant he's asking about?"

"I don't know. But what can it hurt?" she sent back, her tone mirthful.

"Robert Johansen! I think that is enough! I'm sure your friend here has far more important things to do than attend a first graders pageant," said the frazzled adult.

"No, really. I think we'd be honored to attend your pageant. Right, love?" Harry said, turning to Hermione.

She nodded with a smile and Robert began to jump up and down in glee. Soon, the whole class was jumping up and down and the adult looked more and more frazzled.

"I'm sorry, but usually the pageant's are reserved for family only..."

"You can't keep him out, Miss Finch," Robert shouted. "He's Harry Potter!"

Hermione grabbed onto Harry's shoulder and bit her lip trying to stifle her laughter as twenty first graders and one first grade teacher suddenly turned as one to look at Harry in absolute awe.

"Oh, this is priceless. If only I had a camera! Where is Colin Creevey when you need him?" Her laughter burbled over the bond and washed over him.

"Oy! Shut it!" he sent back.

Robert reached up and shyly took Harry's hand. "You must come see our pageant. We're on the way back to school now to get ready for it."

Miss Finch, it seemed, had slipped into a state of shock, allowing Robert to lead the class, and Harry Potter, back to Haven's Primary School. She stumbled along behind.

Inside the school auditorium they were set upon by Olga Johansen, who had been busy setting up a long table with cakes and candies and drinks.

"Mr. Potter, and his lovely bride! I never expected to see you here," Olga said, then she handed Harry a large pie and directed him to place it down at the other end of the table.

"Isn't this wonderful, my dear? None of our schools celebrated Halloween like they do here," she told to Hermione, while a teacher roped a bemused Harry into setting up some more chairs.

"It is surprising, Mrs. Johansen," Hermione replied. "I grew up among muggles and they didn't celebrate Halloween with pageants and such. I know Harry never experienced it. But it's good to see all the children and they seem so happy and excited."

Olga glanced around the auditorium. There were dozens of children running around, making happy noises. She smiled, seeing Harry bend over to listen to her Robert, who was explaining something to him in a very serious manner.

"Yes, it does us all good to see the children happy. This war, it is not a good thing for our children, hmm? So many are affected by it. So many nightmares," Olga replied with a sad sigh.

Hermione's eyes widened for a moment. "Mrs. Johansen..."

"Please, call me Olga."

Hermione nodded. "Olga, are your children having problems with nightmares?" she asked in a quiet tone.

"It's getting better. But you know they saw some very ugly things before they were brought here. And one of their own died before the rescue," she replied sadly. "Then they come here and people have started to whisper. They may be my babies, but they hear the whispers and are frightened."

Hermione started to move closer to Olga when a man rudely pushed between them to get at the table.

"I beg your pardon!" Hermione exclaimed angrily.

The man turned to look at the two women. He glanced at Olga and immediately dismissed her as a muggle. Then he glanced at Hermione.

"Well, either you're a muggle trying to pass as one of us or you're a muggle lover. Which one of these powerless brats are yours," he sneered.

Olga's eyes flared at his dismissal and his rudeness to Hermione.

Hermione stepped forward, her expression disdainful.

Harry could feel her anger spilling through their bond and he moved to make his way through the crowd.

"And you're a worthless blood lover, just like most Death Eaters," Hermione said scathingly. She watched the man carefully. She knew this was a dangerous encounter. Her instructors had taught her well, but the information they'd imparted didn't really click in, until now. She widened her stance and her body become loose, ready to move, ready to fight.

The man tensed suddenly, seeing someone approaching.

An older woman angrily moved in between the man and Hermione. "Mr. Amos! I've warned you about your views before. I won't warn you again!"

"I don't like teaching mudbloods!" Amos spat, pointing at Hermione and Olga.

"Mr. Amos, you're fired!" said the woman. A shocked hush fell over the crowd and they stepped back in surprise.

Amos looked at the woman, shocked. Then he faced Hermione again. "YOU! This is your fault!" he snarled.

Olga started to move forward, but a sudden grip on her shoulder stopped her. "Just watch," Harry whispered to her.

The man reached for his wand, his face twisted in anger.

Hermione stepped forward and grabbed his wrist. She pivoted on one foot while exerting a downward force. A loud, sharp crack was heard throughout the now silent hall.

The man wailed and fell to his knees, cradling his broken wrist in his good hand. Hermione looked up from the now blubbering man to see many shocked faces staring at her.

Harry, however, looked on with an expression of pride and love. He knew she wouldn't allow a duel to occur in a room full of children, so she had done the logical thing. She had disarmed him as quickly and as efficiently as she could.

"Excellently done, my love. You disarmed him with a minimum of fuss."

"I... I... I just couldn't let him start casting in a room full of children."

"I know. You did what you had to do and that's all that matters. You have nothing to be ashamed about."

Harry felt nothing over his bond, then slowly, grudging acceptance.

"Someone call the constables. I want to press charges," moaned the man.

Harry stepped forward and crouched down on his knees so he could see eye to eye with the man.

"Hi there. I'm Harry Potter. As for the two women you insulted, the older one is my friend, Olga, the younger one who broke your wrist is Hermione, my wife. The only reason why I didn't get directly involved is because I knew my wife could handle a bigot like you. Now, the really smart thing for you to do at this point is to start running. You see, while she dislikes bigots, I hate them with a passion," he said, conversationally.

Several people laughed loudly.

The man cringed away from Harry and looked around wildly. Seeing no supporters in the crowd around him, he surged to his feet and bolted for the door.

"Wait! I want to talk you some more after the show!" Harry called. When the man didn't stop, he turned back to the crowd and shrugged, causing people to laugh harder.

The elderly woman approached Olga and Hermione. "Oh, dear. Now I need to find a new fourth grade teacher," she murmured, then she turned to Olga and Hermione. "Are you two alright?"

"It was a nasty scene, yes? But we're fine," Olga said, unconsciously patting Hermione's shoulder. Whether she was trying to comfort the younger woman or comfort herself with the action, no one was sure, but they were too polite to ask.

"I'm sorry about that. I had talked to Mr. Amos several times about his beliefs. Several of the Wizarding students had picked up his attitude and we can't have that," replied the woman.

"If he's teaching that garbage to children he doesn't deserve his job," Harry growled then moved to stand next to Hermione.

Olga glanced between the three of them. "Oh, my. Introductions! Where are my manners these days, hmm? Principal Sophie Grimlock, may I introduce you to Mr. Harry Potter and his wife, Hermione?" she said in a rush.

Principal Grimlock smiled widely. "Welcome to our school, Lord and Lady Potter. We're honored to have you visit."

When Harry grimaced, Hermione laughed. "Just Mr. And Mrs. Potter if you want to be formal, Principal Grimlock. Otherwise, Harry and Hermione would suit us just fine. Harry dislikes all the fancy names and titles, and I can't say I disagree with him about it."

Principal Grimlock blushed a bit. "I er.. see. Just the same, we're pleased you could make it for our pageant. It's about to start."

"It wasn't originally our plan, Principal Grimlock, but one of your first graders invited us to visit and see the pageant. Since we were both raised among muggles, we find ourselves woefully ignorant of our own traditions and customs on occasion," Harry said softly.

"Well, you're more than welcome. Come, let me show you to your seats," Grimlock said, becoming more business-like.

Harry and Hermione very quickly found themselves sitting in the front row next to Olga and several teachers. Someone dimmed the lights in the auditorium and many parents rushed to their seats. The lights dimmed a bit further and then a single spotlight came on, centering on the stage. The curtain was closed and Harry heard hushed whispers coming from behind it. Hermione slipped her hand into his and they both waited for something to happen.

A moment later, Principal Grimlock walked out onto the stage and stood in the spotlight.

"Parents, students, teachers and honored guests, I would like to welcome you all to our Halloween Pageant. As you all know, Halloween is one of our most sacred holidays, a day when the barrier between this life and the next is at its weakest. It's also the time to celebrate the changing of the seasons. Each country has their own rich traditions concerning the holiday, but all share a common story based around the Halloween Pageant, a day which united the Wizarding world.

"We are especially pleased to welcome among us tonight, Harry Potter and his lovely wife, Hermione, who are here at the invitation of Miss Finch's first grade class," said Principal Grimlock as she smiled down at the pair.

"This is one of those occasions, Harry. Stand up, smile and wave at the people," Hermione sent him while everyone applauded. When he didn't move, she jabbed him in the ribs, smiling all the while.

Harry sent her a quick glare, then stood, blushing and waving at the crowd. He sat down quickly and refused to look anywhere but at the stage.

"And now, to start out tonights show, I give you Miss Finch's first grade class and 'The Great Unification'," said the principal. Then she walked off the stage.

The curtain pulled back and a small girl walked onto the stage and into the spotlight, wearing the traditional witches costume, including the pointy hat. Several parents snapped photos and Hermione practically cooed, to Harry's great amusement.

"In the beginning, the world was at war!" the little girl intoned. "The dark creatures roamed the earth, attacking wizards and witches and eating them!"

The lights slowly came up on stage and Harry could see several ominous looking shapes moving around. As the lighting improved, the shapes resolved into Dragons and Manticores and other dark creatures.

"All the evil creatures were controlled by the Evil Toad King and his minions!" the girl said. On stage a dragon ate a wizard in a gory display of bad acting.

The monsters moved off to one side of the stage and wizards and witches moved to the clear side. They seemed to be attempting to grow something to eat in the poor dirt.

"Life was hard for wizards and witches. But a Seer saw an end to the war and a pair of heroes to save the wizards!"

The children playing wizards and witches suddenly looked very very happy, while another girl, dressed in a white robe, walked among them, smiling. Harry assumed she was the Seer.

"This is so cute!" Hermione sent, her thoughts bubbling.

"Yeah and their parents are taking blackmail photos for when these kids bring home their first date," he replied dryly.

"Oh, hush you. My parents never.... WHAT?"

Harry winced at her shout. "Ask your dad about the naked bath shots," he replied. Then he turned his attention back to the stage where the heroes, a man and a woman, were fighting the Toad King and his minions. The heroes had amassed a large army to kill the evil creatures.

He watched with interest as cardboard swords flashed in the lights and Toads, Dragons and good guys keeled over on the battlefield. Some of the good guys keeled over before they'd started to fight, so Harry assumed they died of magic.

"And the battle raged on with many dead peoples," said the little narrator.

Suddenly there was a bright flash of light and all the evil creatures and the evil Toad King fell to the ground. The wizard warriors raised their swords and cheered in victory.

"Evil was overcome! The wizards realized that they were stronger together as a people than apart. But the victory was not without cost. Our heroes had fallen, never to walk this earth again."

Suddenly, a bird hanging from a wire flew across the battlefield, singing a song. Harry thought it looked sort of like a Phoenix, with Eagle and Vulture thrown in for good measure. The bird sang a song and the battlefield filled with a thick smoke. When the smoke cleared, the battlefield had been altered, changed into a huge pumpkin patch.

"Hermione, have you ever heard of this story?" Harry asked.

"The mighty Phoenix gave homage to the fallen and changed their bodies into pumpkins..."

"Pumpkins? Why is this sounding familiar now?" Hermione sent back in amusement.

"And why pumpkins? Isn't that rather ignominious? Die a hero, be resurrected as a pumpkin? And probably just in time for some kid to carve you to pieces," he said, clearly puzzled.

"We better not tell Neville about the evil Toad King. He's liable to strangle Trevor!"

Harry, trying to stifle his laughter, nearly choked.

The little witch walked into the center of the pumpkin patch. Behind her rose a huge pumpkin with a smiley face painted on it. It quickly became obvious that the children had made it. Meant to look reverent and proud, the pumpkin hovered in the air looking menacing and rather lopsided instead.

"Each year, on Halloween, the Great Pumpkin arises from his pumpkin patch in honor of our brave heroes who defeated the Toad King. The Great Pumpkin travels the world delivering candy and presents to all the good little witches and wizards..."

"Hermione!"

"I don't believe it! It can't be."

"But Hermione! It is!"

"No way, Harry. This has got to be some sort of joke the Americans pulled on the world."

"Could it be real? Neither of us grew up with these legends," he replied.

"Harry, if the Great Pumpkin was real, why didn't we get any presents or candy when we were growing up?" she asked him. She was firmly against the idea and intended to use every shred of logic she could.

"Did you ever trick or treat?" he asked.

"Of course not! Hello? Dentists for parents here, remember? Besides, what happened to your candy then?"As soon as she thought it, she cringed and could have kicked herself. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean..." She sighed, heavily.

He reached out for her hand and gave it a small squeeze."No, it's alright. I wouldn't have known if I had gotten anything. The Dursleys would have seen to that. Still, it would have been nice," he replied wistfully

The pair clapped when the class lined up and bowed, but their minds were clearly elsewhere.

"Hermione?"

"Yes?" she replied, somewhat distracted.

"If this is real, could some of the other legends be real?"

"I don't know," she said, a bit worriedly. She suddenly had a image in her mind of a jolly old fat man in a red suit and she shivered. He can't be real, can he? She asked herself.

Author's Notes:

"Awww do we have to?" asked Bob in a whiny tone.

"Yes dear, it's time for the Author's Notes," replied Alyx patiently. She knew talking to Bob required a lot of patience. She shook her head and wondered why she bothered keeping him around any longer. But then, he did this thing with his tongue... no, we can't go there.

"Hi! It's time for the AUTHOR'S NOTES!" shouted Bob.

Alyx pressed the button marked "PLAY OMINOUS MUSIC"

The Wizengamot holds power over the ministry. No matter where it might be.

Please don't blame us for the incorrect spelling of obscure Romanian dishes. We stole the name from a website. Blame them instead.

Will we clean up the Dumbledore issue before the final battle? I don't know, I guess you'll read to find out.

Where do we get our inspiration? Well I have this old high school gym sock that has never been washed. It's nearly thirty years old at this point. Sniffing the sock induces a hypnotic state from which all things are possible. Next question.

No Fawkes will not be making an appearance in this tale. The Phoenix bit is so clichÃ© at this point. Fawkes was working at the Disney World Tiki hut, but he was later captured by agents of Colonel Saunders. We don't know what happened afterwards, but I hear the BBQ was spectacular.

The other intelligent species in the forbidden forest were left to fend for themselves. Harry's big lesson from Sunset was that he couldn't save everyone. Nuf said!

AK, you're right Moose bites are dangerous. Especially when they are in heat. But I don't think we'll go there.

Unfortunately our budget didn't allow for the technicolor penguins.

We honestly don't know why people thought the last chapter was a cliffy, but we're happy it annoyed so many people. And for those that thought we'd send Harry and Crookshanks to Diagon Alley... HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! FOOL ON YOU! All the clues were in that last section saying exactly where he'd go.

Tina, a boffin is what an English friend of mine used to call the people in the research division. Also from what I understand a boffin is a sixteen legged arachnoid like creature native to Tau Epsilon five. It's bite is poisonous and should be avoided in the mating season.

For those complaining that we didn't put Jeconais' This Means War on our updateless list, let me explain why we didn't.

Jeconais owns this webserver. If I make him mad he may beat me up.

He has been updating other things, so he's really not eligible for the list.

And finally enough people have complained apparently because I've heard from an inside source that he is considering an update.

The Wizengamot is going to be a running plot for quite a number of chapters to come. It's integral to the overall plot line so get used to seeing it. There will come a confrontation with the Wizengamot and Harry, but not until they've pushed him to the limit.

BREATHE ROBERT! BREATHE!

Apr911 you'll get your wish with this chapter.

The King is Charles. Camilla was accidentally mistaken for a horse and shot for food two months after the fall of Britain.

Dumbledore getting double crossed? Nah.... we aren't going to say. That particular thread is still playing out.

Back to:: Harry Potter » Sunrise Over Britain

Sunrise Over Britain
Chapter 17 - Trick or Treat

By Bobmin

Sunrise Over Britain Chapter 17 - Trick or Treat

By Bobmin

Sunrise Over Britain
Chapter 17 - Trick or Treat