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"Oh, God! Now what's the problem," Alyx muttered as she stared at her husband.

Bob peeked over the edge of his desk and looked at her fearfully. "We can't use Snape. They don't like us using Amy. In fact, they're screaming for Dumbledore and Amhar to be in the opening disclaimer," he moaned fearfully.

"Who's screaming?" Alyx asked, looking around in confusion.

"THEM!!!" Bob shouted, pointing at his monitor.

Alyx leaned forward, staring at Bob's monitor. Suddenly she reeled back in shock. "Eyes! They're looking at me!"

"They're our readers," whispered Bob. "Greedy, evil, hungry readers. Demanding, pushing, prodding and poking. More, more, more! There's no satisfying them!"

Alyx backed up and whimpered in terror, then tried to hide behind the filing cabinet. Her hair stood...

[BREAK]
A man wearing a badge walked out onto the stage and faced the thousands of Internet readers.

"We interrupt this disclaimer to announce that the authors, once they've been given sufficient drugs, will be calm enough to continue. In the meantime, we, the official Fan Fiction Author's Association, would like to apologize for their breakdown. As required by law, we must tell you that the authors of this story do not, in any way, own Harry Potter, or the Potter Universe. JK Rowling owns it all. The authors are merely playing with these characters," he said.

There was a sudden rumbling sound and a horn blared. The man looked up in fear as the 5:15 freight train zoomed in from off stage, crushing him.
[END BREAK]

Alyx opened the filing cabinet drawer and peeked out. "Did it work?"

"Yep!" Bob said happily. "I knew if we refused to do it, the folks from FFAA would do it for us."

"And the train?"

"It was cheaper than those blasted penguins," he said with a shrug. "Now, on with the story!"

Alyx grabbed a bag of popcorn and a Diet Pepsi (we don't own them, either). She sat down and leaned back. "Oh good! I do love stories."

Bob rolled his eyes at her, then cued the story to start.


Sunrise over Britain
Chapter 19

Stonewall Lane, Dublin, Ireland (Nov 20th)...

Amhar leaned back on his chair and wiped his mouth with a napkin. Across the table from him sat Andrew Korwin, one of the neutral members of the committee. Amhar had arranged for Korwin to join him tonight at an exclusive restaurant on Stonewall Lane. It had been an excellent meal, the first part of the evenings entertainment.

"I couldn't help but notice you were quite upset about Lady Potter's security clearance, Andrew," Amhar said quietly.

The two men paused when a waiter appeared to refill their wine glasses.

Once the waiter had left, Korwin frowned and sipped his wine. "It struck me as odd, Amhar. Getting security clearance is a laborious process, normally taking months to accomplish. Now out of the blue we have Merlin knows how many people who suddenly have high access? And then there is the dubious issue of Lady Potter's parentage.

"As you may recall, I'm known for being an expert in familial histories. I've checked and there are no records of any Grangers on the formal roles of wizards. That makes her a muggle born, and yet both parents are not only wizards, they are currently undergoing instruction by several of the professors from the school!"

Amhar looked surprised. He hadn't been aware of this information about Lady Potter. "Could it be a case of her parents having been refused the chance to go to Hogwarts when they turned eleven?"

Korwin shook his head. "I don't think so. Something doesn't add up, Amhar. Lady Potter attended Hogwarts; that's where she met Lord Potter. But her parents? From what I have learned, they only came into their powers within the past year."

Amhar scowled. "But how is that possible? You can't turn a muggle into a Wizard."

"I don't know and that bothers me. I can't see a way to make it happen without someone using some sort of dark arts," Korwin said with a nervous laugh. "I'm no expert on dark arts mind you, but this doesn't make any sense to me."

Amhar blinked and slowly smiled. This could be useful. The evening was turning out to be even more eventful than he imagined.

Korwin studied Amhar for a moment, then he decided to push things along. "So, Amhar, neither of us are children. We've both been members of the Wizengamot for twenty years or more. What's your real purpose in inviting me out this evening?"

Amhar smiled thinly. "Blunt and to the point as usual, Andrew. Very well, then. To business, I suppose." He paused for a moment and sipped his wine while he ordered his thoughts.

"I couldn't help but notice your reaction to certain comments made by some of the people giving testimonies. While you and your family have tended to be more neutral in the past, I have to wonder if that has changed?"

Korwin frowned at the mention of family. Most of them were still missing in Britain. His youngest son, Oscar, was safely attending the Salem Institute and his daughter was in Beauxbatons, but his wife and mother had not made it out of the country before the fall. He had no idea where they were.

"Let's just say I am not pleased that so many people seem content to allow a seventeen year old to be leading the effort. I also don't like the idea that so many non-government people have been given access to official secrets," Korwin replied stiffly.

Amhar nodded knowingly. "I, too, am troubled by Potter and the hold he seems to have on our Minister."

Korwin leaned back on his chair and sipped some of the expensive wine Amhar was paying for. "Why don't we cut to the chase? I know you detest Potter because he refuses to fall for your royalty act. You want to ruin him. Personally, I don't have your dislike for the man, but then I don't have to pretend to be related to royalty. Any genealogist worth their weight would tell you in ten minutes that you come from an unacknowledged bastard line of the family."

When Amhar scowled angrily, Korwin smiled and leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table. "You want to take Potter down and you want my help to do it. Now, what are you offering?"

Amhar leaned forward, matching Korwin's posture. "I'm offering a few additional benefits for your help. Let's say an extra two hundred and fifty galleons a month? And if I see you helping my cause, I'll increase that to five hundred galleons. There will be some additional benefits from time to time. Tonight is an example; fine dinning and a little entertainment afterwards."

Korwin leaned back and nodded. The salary paid to Wizengamot members was barely adequate when one considered he had to pay his staff from that money. He nodded and sipped his wine, silently toasting his host.

Amhar relaxed now that the deal was done. The enjoyable part of the evening was yet to come. He signaled to the waiter, who nodded and pulled a curtain aside so the entertainment could join them.

As four polyjuice prostitutes entered the private dinning room, Korwin laughed. "You do know how to top off a fine meal, Amhar," he commented, reaching for the closest woman and pulling her into his lap.


The Town of Haven (Evening of Nov 20th)...

Alissa Quinn trudged tiredly up the street. She had just come off her shift at the Ministry building and she was exhausted. She worked the diplomatic desk as the night manager, despite being a squib. Her background in international politics had made her a shoe in for the job when the Ministry reformed under Amelia Bones.

Alissa entered a small alleyway between two buildings. It would put her behind most of the buildings and allow her to cut straight across the field towards her house. She had just cleared the back of the alleyway when she fell, taken from behind with a petrifying spell.


Padfoot Manor...

Ginny bolted upright on the bed, screaming. Neville rolled from his side of the bed and grabbed for his wand. He was covering Ginny and scanning the room for signs of danger almost before he realized he was awake.

Seeing nothing threatening, he dropped his wand and grabbed the still screaming Ginny. As he gathered her into his arms she fought like wildcat, scratching and tearing at him.

The door burst open and Harry stormed in, his staff glowing in the dim light. Behind him followed the entire Brotherhood.

"Ginny, wake up!" Neville shouted loudly, still struggling with the glassy eyed witch. She was locked in some terrifying vision that only she could see.

A moment later, Narcissa pushed her way into the room and rushed towards the bed. She placed her wand at the back of Ginny's head, then slid it down to the base of her skull and whispered something. The screaming stopped, and the red head slumped against Neville.

"What did you do to her?" he asked angrily, now holding Ginny protectively in his arms.

"She'll be fine in a moment, Neville. It's a very low powered Stupefy the healers use to calm distraught patients. She'll wake up in less than a minute and I'll have a calming draught ready for her to drink when she does," Narcissa replied.

True to her word, less than a minute later Ginny began to come around. Narcissa produced a small vial of potion and coaxed the girl to drink it.

After emptying the vial, she slumped against Neville. Her eyes were closed and she wept quietly. Her husband stroked her hair and was whispering to her, trying to calm her.

"Neville?" Harry said softly.

The young man looked up at him.

"We need to find out what's going on, but I don't want to push her," Harry said.

Neville tightened his grip on her. "Give me a few minutes alright?"

Harry nodded and motioned for everyone to move away from the bed.

"I think this is a result of her talent," Harry said. "But it's the first time I've ever known her to become hysterical and wake up the whole household."

"She did that a few times in her second year. McGonagall taught her a silencing charm to keep her from waking up everyone in the dorm," Hermione replied seriously. "We all assumed it was because of her experience in the Chamber."

Harry hadn't know, and his eyes widened as he stared at his wife.

The group conversed quietly for about ten minutes before Neville called them over. He still held Ginny protectively, but the calming draught was working.

"Ginny, are you alright?" Harry asked the pale young woman.

She nodded jerkily and looked at Neville.

"She said she was dreaming when she felt an intense burst of evil, goading someone on to cause pain," Neville replied for his wife. "The evil seemed to want to feed off the pain. It stopped suddenly and she was terrified. The evil reminded her of Tom's diary a little, but it was different, simpler. Tom wanted control, this wanted to cause pain and death."

Harry searched Ginny's face for a moment; her eyes looked haunted. He reached out and touched her on the shoulder and she flinched slightly before relaxing again. "Would you like us to stay close tonight, Ginny?" he asked gently.

Ginny looked at him, then back at Neville. "N-N-No. I'm safe with Neville here, but thank you for asking, Harry."

He smiled down at the pair. "Good enough. Just to be safe, I'll pop on over to Constable Headquarters and see if anything is going on."

"Is that really necessary?" asked Hermione, coming up behind him.

He turned to look at her. "I think so. Ginny needs to know and it might help boost her confidence in her abilities. Besides, something might be going on."

When Hermione nodded, Harry transfigured his robe and boxers into something more suitable before he apparated from the manor.


Ministry of Magic, Constable Headquarters...

Michael O'Dalley blinked, and like so many others, he reached for his wand when Harry appeared in the room with no warning.

Harry grinned and held up his hands, showing he was unarmed.

"My lord, I didn't expect..."

"It's alright, Michael. We had a bit of excitement up at the manor and I decided to pop over and see if there was a problem," Harry replied.

"Excitement, my lord?" asked Michael in confusion.

"Yes. Ginny, that is Mrs. Longbottom, woke up tonight in terror. She has a unique talent for detecting dark and evil magic and I thought something might have set it off," he replied.

O'Dalley's eyes glinted with interest and he motioned Harry into a small office where the two men could speak privately.

Harry was surprised when O'Dalley closed the door behind them and cast several charms on it to prevent eavesdropping.

"Michael?"

"My lord, we had another murder tonight. One of my men nearly caught the murderer but he or she managed to give him the slip. My man spotted the suspect stab someone at the end of an alley and he shouted before giving chase. Something was definitely strange about the scene. I was only there for a few minutes before I came back here to organize our constables for a Haven wide search. I left two men and our forensic healer on site to examine the body before the Irish investigators arrive, but I don't like this, sir. Something doesn't add up. The victim was dead, but I don't know what killed her."

Harry leaned against a desk, thinking. "I know I've offered this before, but say the word and I'll have fifty ex-Aurors patrolling the streets from dusk to dawn," he offered quietly.

O'Dalley looked pained. "I don't know, my lord. My concern about possible vigilantism is still valid."

Harry shrugged. "So deputize them, Michael."

O'Dalley's head whipped up and he stared at Harry in shock. "Merlin, why didn't I think of that? It might just work!"

Harry clapped him on the back. "Because you were busy doing your job. No one liked the idea of vigilantes. Deputizing them as volunteers means that the Wizengamot can't complain about over spending your budget, and you can brag about using local resources that already have law enforcement training to safeguard our town."

O'Dalley grinned appreciatively.

"I better get back to the Manor. People are still a bit jumpy and they'll want to know what has happened. Keep me in the loop on this, please?" he asked.

O'Dalley nodded. When Harry vanished from the room, it shook slightly as he passed through the anti-apparation wards. O'Dalley shook his head in wonder, then rubbed his hands together. There was much to be done.


Padfoot Manor...

Hermione sat in bed trying to read her book, waiting for Harry to return. The manor had settled into an uneasy silence and she wondered if any of them would get back to sleep.

"I'm back," Harry said quietly.

Hermione yelped and dove for her wand before pulling up short.

"Don't do that! Will you make a noise or something when you apparate?" she scolded her smiling husband.

He chuckled to himself and transfigured his clothing back into his robe and boxers. Turning to climb into bed, he was surprised to see Hermione clutching his pillow.

"Well? You vanish into the night and expect to waltz back into my bed without any explanations?" she asked archly.

"You knew where I was going," he replied mildly.

She rolled her eyes. "Of course, I knew where you were going. I want to know what you found out!"

Harry sat on the edge of the bed and sighed. "There was another murder tonight. It seemed to happen just around the time Ginny woke us all up. They nearly caught the killer, but the constable didn't get that lucky. O'Dalley is confused by the murder and happy that I gave him a way of bringing in the Yanks without resorting to vigilantism."

Hermione was silent for a moment, her mood somber. "Why is Michael confused?"

"He said that one of his men saw the victim get stabbed, but he doesn't know if that's what killed her," he replied. "Now, can I have my pillow back?"

Hermione replaced his pillow and flipped the covers back so he could crawl under them. Once he was in place, she rolled, snuggling up in the hollow of his arm as he wrapped it around her protectively.

Harry shut off the lights with a wave of his hand and she shivered. Their Irish home didn't seem to be the safe haven it had once been.


Haven School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Nov 21st)...

A very harried McGonagall looked up from her desk when someone knocked at her door. The constables had chased someone in this direction the night before and they were currently checking the school to make sure someone wasn't hiding in a classroom or closet. Students had been sent back to their dormitories under constable escort and the school was in a bit of a panic.

"Come in!" she shouted.

The door opened and Professor Flitwick entered, followed by Emma Granger.

"I'm sorry, Minerva. Have we come at a bad time?" asked Emma.

Minerva smiled. Emma and her husband were pupils of hers, but of a different sort. Harry had activated their magic only a few months ago and she tutored them once a week, mainly guiding them on a course of self study. It was possible for Minerva to see qualities of Hermione in both of her students. Her mother was studious and wanted to understand the theory behind everything. Her father was more like Harry; hard working, but interested in doing the magic, not understanding it. In Hermione, the two qualities made for a powerful combination.

"No, not at all Emma, Filius. Do come in. I can use a break from the madhouse that the constables created," Minerva replied, waving them to chairs.

Several of the headmaster portraits huffed loudly at her friendly style. The elves had set up the Head office in a manner that was similar to Dumbledore's, including the portraits. The former headmasters were most upset about being taken from Hogwarts, but they understood the necessity of it.

"Minerva, has Harry spoken to you recently about what is happening to Hogwarts? Or, for that matter, what he wants to do with Hogwarts following the war?" asked Flitwick.

"He's spoken a few times about this school, but I haven't spoken to him recently about Hogwarts," Minerva replied, a little confused by the topic.

"Harry slipped into Hogwarts a while back and was surprised to find the school's magic was draining away. He's afraid that it will be permeated with Voldemort's foulness by the time we get back. I asked Filius to help me research ways to cleanse such magic from a building or area," Emma explained.

Minerva looked interested. Although not specifically her field, it was something interesting and different.

"And? What did you find?"

"Well, we found one ritual we could use, but it would have to be done by the faculty. There are others, but frankly I don't think sacrificing Unicorns and Griffins would be acceptable to anyone," Filius murmured.

"The problem is the ritual will cleanse the school of the magic, but there is no guarantee the school will go back to it's old self with moving staircases, relocating classrooms and such," Emma said sadly. "Dan and I never attended Hogwarts, except vicariously through Hermione's letters, but even we feel an attachment to it."

Minerva turned to Flitwick. "Have you documented everything we need to cleanse the school? There isn't much we can do at the moment other than be ready when the time comes."

"I've doubled checked our research, Minerva. We'll need six faculty members to perform the ritual of cleansing. It's a tedious and very stressful ritual, but we'll manage, I think," replied the little professor.

"Excellent!" she replied, then turned to Emma. "How are Harry and Hermione? I've not spoken with them for quite some time now."

Emma sighed. "They, like the rest of the younger members of the Brotherhood, are training for a big mission. Hermione comes home every night exhausted, and Harry isn't much better off. He has days where he uses his staff all day long as a cane. I know this war is important, but it's hard to see your children suffering from it."

Emma shook her head, trying to break the somber mood. "But enough of my bad thoughts. How do you like your new school now that it's up and running fully?"

Minerva leaned back on her chair and smiled. "I always enjoyed Hogwarts, but Haven is so well thought out. There are sections of the school like the practice rooms which didn't exist at all in Hogwarts. I have to admit to having reservations when I first saw it, but then we need to remember that Hogwarts was built to be a castle, a fortress at a time when muggles were persecuting our kind. Haven was built in a more enlightened and, hopefully, gentler era."

Everyone turned when her door opened and a constable poked his head in. "Headmistress, we're done here, and we apologize for the disruption."

Minerva smiled. Now she could get the school back in order again! "Thank you, Constable. We're happy to have been able to help you."

The constable nodded and closed the door.

Minerva turned in her chair and conjured several cups and a tea service. "Tea anyone?" she asked.


Ministry Building, Office of Chief Constable...

"Mr. Stanton is here to see you, sir."

"Right, send him in," O'Dalley called, then stood and walked around his desk.

Charles Stanton was the senior American Auror and commander of the American forces in Haven. O'Dalley hadn't wanted to use them, but last night Lord Potter had given him an idea he had not thought of.

Michael smiled when Stanton walked in and offered his hand. He wasn't an impressive looking man, but he was greatly respected, and not just by his own troops. He wasn't arrogant, loud or heavy handed, choosing instead to command with confidence and a quiet authority few man would question. O'Dalley was all the more impressed with him because of it.

"Commander Stanton, welcome. Please, won't you take a seat?" O'Dalley said, gesturing to a chair across from his desk.

Stanton sat and looked at O'Dalley for a moment. "I have to admit I find myself curious as to why the head of the Haven police force is interested in talking to me. Which one of my men has done something wrong? And what kind of damages are we talking about?"

O'Dalley blinked in surprise, then started to laugh. "No, sir, none of your men are guilty of anything that I'm aware of. I asked you here because I find myself in the unenviable position of needing help desperately. And you, sir, might be able to provide it."

Stanton frowned and motioned for O'Dalley to continue.

"In the past months there has been a rise in crimes against muggles and squibs. I know of several incidents in which your men intervened on behalf of a muggle or squib, protecting them..."

"Yes, well, we don't raise our children with the nonsensical bigotry like they do over here," Stanton said, interrupting him. He didn't understand this blood business; it was an alien concept to him. Fortunately, most of the Brits he worked with seemed to be against the idea, as well.

"I agree with you, Commander. But my personal views aren't really the issue. My hands are tied by a limited budget, and now that the Wizengamot is operating, they will do everything in their power to see that the Ministry doesn't expand its efforts to stamp out the blood bigotry. That leaves me in somewhat of a bind and is the reason you are here today."

Stanton blinked and smiled thinly. He'd heard a bit about the Wizengamot.

"Last night, Haven experienced it's second murder in less than a month. Both victims were stabbed to death and both victims were not magical," O'Dalley said, then he paused and rifled through the parchments on his desk. Finding the one he was looking for, he waved it at Stanton.

"This is the report from our forensic healer who says the second victim did not have an immediately fatal wound! He says, and I quote, 'The knife wound is narrow and sharpened on both edges, suggesting a dagger of some sort. Less than seven inches in length, the blade penetrated the victim's lower abdominal area, nicking the lower intestines, but otherwise missing most organs. Considering the wound, this victim should have survived many hours without healer assistance. The amount of blood loss was minimal, suggesting the time of death was very close to when she was stabbed. However, the body was similar in condition to those who die shortly after having been kissed by a Dementor. The cause of death at this time cannot be determined, but the knife wound has been ruled out.' "

O'Dalley threw the report on his desk.

"The wound is identical to the first victim, Commander. I have a serial murderer loose in Haven and not enough people to protect the community," he concluded quietly, the frustration clear in his voice.

Stanton leaned forward on his chair. "What do you want us to do, Chief Constable?" His gaze was direct and the quiet anger burning in his eyes was obvious.

"Most of your men started out as Aurors, upholding the law. I was thinking that perhaps some of your men might be willing to volunteer for a deputy constable position? And perhaps others might consider sharpening their commando skills by training in Haven at night," O'Dalley suggested.

A slow grin appeared on Stanton's face. "I'll have fifty men report for duty tonight, Chief. And I think you're right. Perhaps it might be interesting to test out commando training in town at night."

Michael O'Dalley smiled. For the first time in several days he breathed a little easier. Haven would get the protection they needed.


Haven Operations Center...

Harry looked up as his company commanders entered his office.

"I wanted to go over the operational plan one last time. We're still at least fifteen days from making the assault, but in a week's time we'll stand down for most of a week to allow everyone a chance to decompress and relax," he said.

He stood then and walked over to a large photograph of the Leeds camp hanging on one wall.

"Able, Baker and Charlie companies will assault the barracks at the northern entrance, while Delta and Echo companies will force the eastern entrance. Delta and Echo will fight their way through the camp, killing the guard force. Echo will provide backup for Delta, but when the Dementors come boiling out of the hole, I expect you to push them back into their building and pen them up there.

"Commander Stanton seems to think we can pen the Dementors in and I think he might be right. They are not incorporeal creatures, so Q Branch is working on a way of encasing their building in ice, locking them in. If that doesn't work, we'll have to drive them off using every Patronus we can muster.

"Hopefully, Delta will be able to link up with the rest of the brigade, opening the northern gate if we haven't done so by the time you arrive.

"Once the guard force has been neutralized, we evacuate the camp. I don't care what you have to do to get them moving; stun people if necessary and slap a portkey on them. We have almost no time to waste here and a lot of people to move.

"Delta, Echo and Charlie companies will sweep the camp, portkeying anyone they find. Meanwhile, Able and Baker will set up a defensive perimeter around the camp. We'll also tear down their anti-portkey, anti-apparation wards and erect our own in their place.

"With the camp clear, all companies will police the area one final time, send out our wounded and turn out to join Able and Baker on the perimeter. We'll hold the perimeter for a while, then fall back into the camp, leaving traps and mines behind. Once inside the camp, we'll evacuate to Haven."

Harry turned back to his commanders, some of whom were more than fifteen years older than he was. He felt uncomfortable in this role, but even the oldest of his commanders acknowledged him and the Brotherhood's special place in the war.

"Questions?"

"With the wards in place, we'll need to arrive close to the camp so we can surprise them. But I'm concerned about Delta and Echo; they must hit the eastern entrance at the same time that we hit the northern one," Draco said. He was the only other member of the Brotherhood at the meeting. He had been training with Harry and Neville and was assigned the position of Commander of Echo company.

"We've taken that into account, Draco. Delta and Echo will leave exactly fifteen minutes before the other companies, since they will have a longer distance to travel. The nearest large open space close to the eastern entrance is nearly three kilometers away. But don't forget, you will be able to contact us on your floo, so we should still be able to coordinate our movements," Harry replied. "Any other questions?"

He looked around, noting the grim expressions. He knew each one was wondering how many men they would lose in the battle.

"Right. A few days before the attack we'll be checking everything in our inventory. I understand we're going to get some rather interesting and very lethal toys from Q Branch, so warn your men. Don't play with anything until after we get the lectures on how to use them."

Several men grinned. Q Branch was turning out to be a godsend for the troops, and a nightmare for command since they insisted on turning out as many non-lethal weapons as they did lethal. The non-lethal devices were turning up everywhere as practical jokes.

Harry sat back on his chair. "Dismissed," he said, then watched the men file out.


Ministry Building, Office of the Minister of Magic...

Amelia smiled when Harry entered the office. She was sitting across from a stately looking gentleman with a bushy mustache.

She stood and waved at Harry to join them at the small table. "Harry, I'm glad you received my message. I'd like to introduce you to Jacques Delaflote, the French Ambassador to the Irish Ministry. He came to us today with a bit of a problem and I was hoping you could clarify a few things for us," Amelia said.

Harry shook the Ambassador's hand and nodded to Amelia before sitting. A house elf appeared at his side and handed him a cup of tea.

"I'll try, Minister."

Amelia looked over at the Ambassador and nodded for him to begin.

"Mr. Potter, yesterday we had a number of what we think are German citizens who appeared at our customs point after arriving from Britain. Most of them apparated away before we could process them, but eight of them immediately fell ill, and some of those who apparated away also appeared to be ill. Now, in light of your warding of Britain, we felt it necessary to ask why these people might possibly be sick. Our healers are saying that some are close to death."

The Ambassador leaned back on his chair and calmly sipped at his tea, studying the young man before him.

"Eight of them, you say? Good. I'll assemble a medical and interrogation team," Harry said, placing his cup the table.

"Pardon?" asked the Ambassador in surprise.

Harry stopped and looked at the Frenchman. "We can cure them, but not without interrogating them first."

"Unacceptable. You will provide us with the cure, Monsieur," said Delaflote.

"Ambassador, the reason these men are sick is because they are guilty of killing someone recently and their auras have turned black because of that murder. I assure you, all of them, including the ones that got away, will be deathly ill within a few days.

The Ambassador waved a hand dismissively. "It matters not. These men are under the direct protection of the French Ministry for Magic."

Harry's eyes hardened. "If you will not accept an interrogation team, then they will die," he said flatly.

The Ambassador reeled back as if struck. No one talked to France like this! "Madam Minister, surely you do not let this child dictate your policy!" he sputtered.

Amelia sniffed once and adjusted her monocle. "He does not dictate our policy in this matter. Point of fact, he is following our policy to the letter. As it turns out, Mr. Potter is the only person capable of imbuing the potion with the necessary magic to cure these men. If you want them to recover, you will have to cooperate with our wishes."

Delaflote frowned. "I see. Well, I can tell you now that my government will not allow these men to be questioned. It is not possible."

"Then I'm afraid we are at an impasse, Mr. Ambassador. Now, might I ask why your government is making this hostile gesture? Are you declaring yourselves allied to Lord Voldemort?" asked Amelia, her tone cool.

"Every other government on the continent and elsewhere has known about the restrictions imposed by my barrier and no one has complained about it. Six times now we've sent out medical and interrogation teams to talk with people coming through the barrier. Tell me, Mr. Ambassador, just what will the rest of the world do to France when they learn that you are allying yourselves to Voldemort?" Harry asked conversationally.

Delaflote paled. "This is an outrage! We would never do such a thing!"

"And yet, we have proof that your own customs service has been working in cooperation with Voldemort's forces in Britain. There is considerable corruption in your government, even you have to admit that," Amelia said, chiding the older man gently.

The Ambassador sat quietly for a moment. The charge was true and he knew it. But it was his job to follow his government's wishes and uphold the honor of France.

"I'm truly sorry, Mr. Ambassador. Because your government will not allow the men to be questioned, they will die. All I can suggest is you take comfort from the fact that they deserve their fate," Harry offered.

"Your words are disturbing, Mr. Potter. You accuse us of allying ourselves with a monster. That we would never do. I will convey your requirements to my government, but I can tell you now, they will not agree to them," he said, then he turned to Amelia, "And pardon me for saying so Madam, but my government will not take your threats seriously. You are, after all, a Minister of a country that has been conquered, no?"

The Ambassador stood and made his way from the office.

"Well, that went well," Amelia said angrily.

Harry blinked. "I'm sorry, Amelia. Do you think I should have given them the potions?"

"Oh, Merlin, no. I'm not angry with you, Harry. We've been expecting a break with France for a while now. There are simply too many pure blooded bigots in power over there. The muggles are cooperating on the international scene, but the French Ministry of Magic ignored our repeated warnings that their customs service was compromised. Then they ignored completely the attack on Susan and Terry, except to complain about our having a security detail watching them without French approval. Now this? I daresay we won't get much help from France until they clean up their own house," she told him.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm glad you have to deal with this stuff instead of me. Quite honestly, I'm tempted to visit the French Ministry and clean house myself. But I don't think that would be a good idea on the diplomatic front, however."

Amelia smiled and picked up her cup. She swirled the tea around for a moment before looking at him again. The idea of Harry visiting the French Ministry actually appealed to her, for a moment. "No, it wouldn't be a good idea. But you're young and still learning that you can't always let your emotions rule your actions. Diplomacy, like politics, means smiling at someone you absolutely loathe, pretending to be their best friend, all the while plotting their downfall."

"That seems rather harsh, don't you think? I mean, how do you know who your true friends are?"

"That comes from your instincts, Harry. You and I both know where we stand in relation to each other. Your relationship with my niece and her husband practically makes us family, and our common goal cements that relationship. But you don't always have the luxury of knowing exactly where you truly stand. The allies of today could be the enemies of tomorrow.

"There are few constants in international diplomacy. Britain's relationship to the common wealth nations seems to be one, and our relationship with the Yanks is another. But Britain has a long history of war with France, and one cannot simply sweep that history under the rug," Amelia said. She paused for a moment, her brow wrinkled in thought.

"Harry, I don't mean to lecture you about this, but as an Ambassador at Large, you need to remember these points whenever you are speaking to an official from another government. I have been putting off repeated requests for you to meet with certain members of our muggle government, as well as with others. But I won't be able to hold them off for long. You represent so many aspects of our struggle that many people want to meet with you."

He scowled. He didn't like the idea of people wanting to meet him because of what he was.

Amelia leaned over and placed her hand on his. "Take some advice from an old lady, Harry. Your fame is a tool, just like your staff. Learn to use it for the good of others, like you do your staff, and you'll be unstoppable."

She glanced at the wall clock and gasped. "Oh, damn. I best be moving. Susan is cooking something special tonight and wanted me home early for once," she exclaimed.

Harry grinned then. Susan and Terry had moved from the manor into the Minister's residence a few weeks back. Terry was working under Caleb most of the day, and spending the rest of the day in therapy, trying to master regrown nerves. Susan, now nearly four months pregnant, helped Amelia around her office, learning the ways of the Ministry.

"I understand, Amelia. Hermione doesn't like me missing too many meals either," he replied, standing. Then, with a cheeky grin, he bowed and vanished from her office.


Wizengamot Investigative Committee (Nov 22nd)...

"Mr. Pickerton, you filled the role of Deputy Minister for Defense from April until late August, did you not?"

"Yes, Mr. Chairman, I did fill that role until I had to leave for health reasons," replied Miles.

Amhar looked up at Miles for a moment, then scribbled something on the notes in front of him.

"Let's see, during your time as Deputy Minister, you employed over two hundred house elves..."

"Actually, Mr. Chairman, we didn't employ any house elves. They were all volunteers," Miles corrected.

Amhar blinked and frowned. "Volunteers? How can a house elf be anything more than a servant?"

"The house elves who are current assisting the Ministry in the war effort are all volunteers, Mr. Chairman," Miles repeated.

"Surely, Mr. Pickerton, you can see the obvious dangers to treating house elves as equals?" asked Andrew Korwin.

Miles shrugged. "It wasn't my decision to make. Lord Potter suggested the use of house elves and then he asked them for volunteers. Quite a few wanted to help."

Amhar smiled thinly. "Getting back on track, then. I understand you undertook a mission to assault a group of supposed Death Eaters in Northern Ireland?"

"Yes, sir, that is correct."

"Can you elaborate on that mission, please?" Amhar asked in a silky tone.

"On 28th June, forces of Ireland, the United States, Canada, and Britain assaulted a farm house in Armagh, Northern Ireland. The Irish Ministry was quite concerned. Their intelligence services, along with our own, had located a large number of Death Eaters who had managed to escape Britain before the line of death was put into place.

"Allied forces attacked the farmhouse and overwhelmed the forces. I don't have the exact figures on hand, but close to one hundred confirmed Death Eaters were either captured or killed that day. Those captured were sent to an Irish military facility, where they were tried under a military court and executed."

"Executed? All of them?" exclaimed Korwin, his face paling.

"Yes, sir."

"But... but they were pure bloods! I've seen the list myself. Some of them were from the finest British families that ever existed!"

"They were the enemy, sir," Miles replied flatly.

"How do you know they were the enemy, Mr. Pickerton? You and your wild bunch attacked a farm at dawn and either killed or captured every person you found there!" Korwin shouted.

Miles looked at Korwin contemptuously. "That farm contained over one hundred dark artifacts, and more than one hundred marked Death Eaters. I can assure you, Councilor, every person killed or captured at the farmhouse that morning was either a confirmed Death Eater or waiting to become one. Every one of them was tried in front of a military tribunal, using Veritaserum, and found guilty of multiple capital offenses."

Miles paused and looked around at the committee. "Don't you people understand? This is war! These people are our enemy and we don't arrest enemies, we kill them. Every day hundreds, if not thousands of our fellow citizens are killed and you sit here, safe, casting doubt on our efforts.

"I was here when Haven was empty. I watched as people filtered in, crying with relief to be safe and weeping in sorrow and fear for those they left behind. I saw the Ministry rise from the ashes of war and helped as we rescued family after family. I watched us grow from a group of huddled, frightened people to a working, fighting machine that is trying to take the war back to our enemies. And you people have the gall to sit here and question our motives and methods?"

"MR. PICKERTON! You will retain a civil tongue in your head or you will find yourself in contempt of this committee," Amhar shouted.

Korwin leaned back, looking smug and wondered if Pickerton would be the committee's first victim.

Miles smiled broadly. "Mr. Chairman, I already hold this committee in contempt. You drag me away from my job and ask me to worry about a few useless morons who are too stupid to realize they've fallen for Voldemort's lies? And then you threaten me with contempt? In case no one has informed you, Mr. Chairman, you have no enforcement arm!"

Amhar bounced back on his chair, looking shocked.

"I'm afraid that Mr. Pickerton is quite correct in his statement. Currently there is no enforcement arm that we can turn to, nor are there any plans to put one in place," Trenton Largo commented to no one in particular.

"What do you mean there is no enforcement arm?" shouted Korwin.

"The Ministry never reconstituted the DMLE, Councilor," Largo explained smoothly. "The Constables, while nominally under the control of the Ministry, are bound by Irish law, which does not recognize this body. And the Aurors working for the Magical Ministry of Defense are considered troops, not law enforcement personnel."

Amhar sat clenching his fists spasmodically. This was news to him! He never expected that the Ministry would reform without a Department of Magical Law Enforcement. More importantly, it also meant that his committee was really a toothless tiger. Oh, they could make recommendations or levy charges, but it lacked the power to enforce those charges.

Amhar leaned forward on his seat. "I can assure you, Mr. Pickerton, that the lack of an enforcement arm is strictly a temporary situation and I will do all in my power to see you held in contempt if you do not behave yourself. I will be speaking to the Minister today about reforming the DMLE as soon as possible," he said icily.

Miles and Amhar stared at each other for a long moment, their mutual hatred clearly visible. The tension in the room increased with each passing moment. Then Trenton Largo coughed, causing Amhar to look away. Several of the neutral members of the committee sighed in relief.

"Mr. Pickerton, just for the record, was Lord Potter on the mission to attack the Death Eaters in Northern Ireland?" asked Largo.

Miles turned to face him. "No, Councilor, Lord Potter was still in training. His group provided us with the location of the farmhouse and some support back in the Operations Center, but Lord Potter did not participate in that attack."

Jackson Hillmet, one of the neutrals on the committee, consulted a piece of parchment. "And yet Lord Potter was, from what I understand, one of the principle planners of the operation at Azkaban, as well as a participant."

"That's correct, Councilor. Lord Potter and several members of his group had completed their tactical command training well before the Azkaban operation. During our post mission debriefing, it became obvious that his input in planning the assault was pivotal to the mission's success."

Hillmet frowned. "Yes, Potter's group. I understand that is covered under the Official Secrets Act, but can you tell us how many there are in his group?"

"I'm afraid not, Councilor. I am bound by an Oath of Secrecy," Miles replied with a shake of his head. "It is perhaps best if you think of Lord Potter's group as a special unit answerable only to the Prime Minister and the Crown."

Amhar leaned forward, scowling. "For the record, I do not like the idea of having a group of people who seem to be able to flout our laws and are answerable to no one."

Miles smiled thinly. "Councilor, Lord Potter holds himself answerable to a number of people. He has a degree of integrity and nobility I have not seen in all my years. On top of that, the man has more power than anyone I've even read about. In the Azkaban operation, he secured the northern end of the island with a single spell, killing the attacking Death Eaters in the process. And despite his position and power, he is a humble individual who only wants to live his life in peace."

"Well said," murmured Largo, then he leaned over his desk. "Lord Potter's qualities, while admirable, are not really our focus here. I do know that Lord Potter will allow no one and nothing to stand in the way of winning this war, but I'm digressing. Turning back to the matters at hand, Mr. Pickerton, might I inquire as to why you accepted a contingent of Saudi Arabian fire breathing calvary?"

"Of course, Councilor," Miles replied.

Largo leaned back on his chair, content that he had again diverted the committee from picking on topics they shouldn't be dealing with.


Parliament Building (Nov 25th)...

"Crucio!"

The man on the floor writhed and screamed. Lucius lifted his wand and stared at him. Truthfully, Malfoy was bored and torturing General Worthington any more was not going to provide enough entertainment to be worth the effort.

It didn't help matters that he had just re-enforced the Imperius curse on the man. Right now, he'd welcome the pain, thinking it was what Lucius wanted. It was difficult to enjoy torturing someone when that person took a perverse joy in the act..

He sighed wearily and canceled the curse. "Yes, yes. You're in pain and think you're going to die. Now, do get up off my floor."

Worthington got to his feet slowly, hissing in pain and looked blankly at Lucius.

"General, the next time you hide information from me I'll see that you are truly punished," Lucius growled threateningly.

"Yes, sir. It won't happen again, sir," Worthington said quietly.

The man's tone and manner were too much for Lucius. He surged to his feet and pointed towards the door. "Out, damn you! Out! And don't come back unless you have good news!" he shouted.

He watched the General's retreating back and clenched his fists. He was panting with rage and Worthington was incapable of providing the release he needed.

Worthington was reporting more and more bad news of late. Convoys were being spotted and wrecked by allied air forces. Barracks and field encampments were being bombed. Slowly but surely the British Army was being bled dry and they were largely powerless to stop it.

Lucius had tried to assign wizards to protect vital depots, but that plan failed miserably. A wizard with a wand simply couldn't shoot down an aircraft traveling at hundreds of miles per hour. There were a few lucky shots here and there, but that's all they were.

The sole bright spot on this cloudy morning was that he'd finally gotten all of his wizarding forces back up to full strength. He now had nearly fifteen hundred wizards at his disposal. He had about a thousand working with the army, and another five hundred guarding key locations. With the return of his men, Mulciber assumed control over the Wizarding camps. It was a responsibility that Lucius was glad to be rid of.


The Willow Wand Pub, Haven...

Alicia Spinnet looked around the crowded pub. It was the same place once run by Dumbledore, but had since been taken over by a reputable group of businessmen. Alicia stood on her toes, searching the crowd. She was a witch on a mission.

Spotting her quarry, she pushed her way through the crowd until she came upon the table she wanted. Its sole occupant was slouched down on a chair, three sheets to the wind, and it was barely six in the evening!

"Oliver!" she snapped at him.

He looked up at her, his eyes bloodshot and bleary, and squinted. "There be two of ya!" he slurred, then he turned towards the bar. "Barkeep! Bring two glasses fer me friends."

Alicia scowled and resisted the urge to stamp her foot. "Oliver, you can't go on like this!"

He looked up at her and blinked owlishly for a moment. "Did I ever tell ya that I nearly made it ta the wor-wor-wor... Ah, hell, that cup thingy!"

Alicia sighed and sat down on the chair next to him. "Oh, Oliver, what am I going to do with you?"

Oliver put down his glass and stared morosely at it. "Nothin'. No team... no job... gonna be a failure just like me ol' dad, bless 'is heart. Leth drink ta dear ol' dad!"

Alicia looked at him in dismay. "Ollie, your dad was one of the most successful healers in Scotland!"

He pushed his glass away and started to lay his head down. "Be a good chickiedee and wake me if Alicia comes by. I wouldna want her ta sees me like dis," he mumbled. In seconds, he was snoring.

Alicia stood and shook her head. Pulling out her wand, she cast a sobering charm on him. It would sober him up, but leave him with the mother of all hangovers.

Oliver lifted his head and held it with both hands. "What in the name of Merlin? Alicia? What are you doing here, love?"

"Don't you call me love, Oliver Wood!" she snapped, her eyes flashing with fury, her hands on her hips. "I come down here to rescue you and you call me a chickiedee? Why, if I didn't care so much I'd hex off your dangly bits!"

Oliver winced and shrunk down into himself. His head was pounding and he was sure it was only his two hands that kept it from exploding. Alicia's yelling wasn't helping matters much, either.

"Get up, Oliver. You're coming home with me," Alicia said angrily.

Oliver nodded and slowly stood up. Alicia pushed him through the crowd towards the door. Outside the pub, he straightened a bit in the fresh air and resisted the urge to hold his head together with both hands.

The walk to the school grounds, where Alicia had a small cottage, helped him somewhat. But even as she pushed him into a chair and handed him a hangover cure, he was certain he was going to die any minute.

"Drink that," she ordered. Then she bustled about her small kitchen, muttering under her breath.

Oliver looked at the smoking concoction in the goblet; it was thick, almost syrupy in texture and made a slight moaning sound as he tilted the goblet to his mouth.

He downed the potion as quickly as he could and resisted the urge to gag. Alicia would probably not appreciate his being sick on her floor and table. She put a pot of tea on while his every limb shook and his body underwent an amazing series of color changes. A dense fog surrounded him for a moment, then slowly dissipated.

She sniffed once and turned a shade of green herself. She whipped out her wand and opened a window, then banished the thinning fog outside.

She sat next to him at the table and poured them both a cup of tea. Oliver was ashamed of his behavior and was reluctant to look her in the eye.

"So, now what?" he asked glumly.

"You can't keep drinking yourself into oblivion every night. You've spent most of the money the Ministry gave you and you have nothing to show for it except a hang over. You need to make changes in your life. Yes, you were a great professional Quidditch player, and perhaps you will be again. But not today. What you need to do is go see Professor McGonagall first thing in the morning. Madam Hooch injured herself last week and she'll be laid up for quite a while. The school is now desperate for a new flying instructor who can also double as a Quidditch referee."

"Madam Hooch was injured? What happened?"

"You know how she is. Despite the school receiving a shipment of brand new Cleansweeps, she insisted on using one of those antiquated Shooting Stars. It gave out on her and she crashed," Alicia said.

"Perhaps I will go to see McGonagall tomorrow," he replied, grinning.

"And you'll stop drinking?" she pressed him.

"Yes, I'll stop drinking. Any other changes you want me to make?" he asked, rather grumpily. It was just like a woman. Give her an inch and she tried to change a man's entire life.

"Just one more," she whispered, then she climbed into his lap and kissed him.

He blinked in shock for a moment, then he slid his arms around. I'll never learn to understand women, he thought.

Merlin, I should have given him a mint first, she thought, tasting the hangover potion.


Padfoot Manor (Nov 29th)...

Harry looked up from his notes and glared sourly at Caleb.

"I'm telling you, my lord, I didn't come up with the name; they did," Caleb said, trying to suppress a grin.

Harry buried his face in his hands and ignored the smiles and chuckles of the people around him.

"It's supposed to be a secret! Couldn't they have picked a better name?" he asked with a groan.

"Oh, it's not really that bad, Harry. It's kind of flattering," offered Remus.

Harry glanced at Hermione. He could feel her mirth through the bond.

"It could be a lot worse, my heart. They could have picked Potter's Brigade," she sent him.

He winced mentally.

"Harry," Amelia said lightly, "I understand why you're upset with the name they chose, but when you think about it, it makes sense. Both the press and members of the Wizengamot have heard rumors about the Brotherhood. Having a Brotherhood Brigade will muddy the waters and confuse the issue so much that no one will believe the real story if they hear it."

Harry looked up at Amelia. Her reasoning was sound and she was right; it could have been a lot worse. He looked back at Caleb. "And what did Stanton's group name themselves?"

Caleb coughed and managed to look embarrassed. "Well, it probably was a bad idea letting the two groups name themselves. But then they are mostly Yanks and Canadians in that group; always a little on the wild side. They called themselves Stanton's Raiders."

Harry grinned. Charles 'Chuck' Stanton was a no nonsense man who had elevated pragmatism to an art form. Harry knew Chuck would hate the name his men had chosen, but because they'd picked it, he'd accept it. All in all, my group's name isn't as bad as Stanton's, Harry thought.

"Alright, the Brotherhood Brigade it is then," he said with a sigh. "Anything else?"

"I have a few points to bring up," Amelia said.

Harry motioned for her to proceed.

"The report came back from the forensic healers used by the Irish in regard to the murder of Alissa Quinn. Their forensic specialists agree with ours, in that the single stab wound was not sufficient to cause death. They do suggest that the blade was probably the mechanism used to deliver the death blow, but it was obviously magical in origin.

"Both forensic healers agree that the condition of the body resembled an individual who had died after a Dementor's kiss."

"Wait, this sounds familiar," offered Remus.

"In what way?" asked Harry in surprise.

Remus held up his hand while he searched his memory. He'd heard about something like this before. But from where? "I remember reading last summer about previous dark lords and what they did. There was one who'd been a natural enchanter. It's a very rare talent and he..."

"Excuse me, Remus, a natural enchanter?" asked Harry.

Remus leaned back on his chair. "This is what happens when you sleep through History of Magic," he chided with a smile. "A natural enchanter is a unique talent, like a Metamorphagus or even a Seer. They are like any other enchanter, the only difference being that they do not have to study and plan for what they want to enchant. For example, a natural enchanter could watch Tonks make her changes and then turn around and hand you an amulet that would give you the same ability. You're an enchanter, Harry, but you need to plan what spells you intend to imbue an object with and it takes time. A natural enchanter instinctively knows what he needs.

"Anyway, I seem to recall a dark lord, I can't remember his name off the top of my head, but he did something with daggers that he gave to his cadre of assassins," Remus said, then he shook his head. It wasn't important at the time and now he couldn't remember the details.

Amelia looked up from the notes she was taking and smiled. "That's a good start, Remus. I can give this to Michael and he'll be able to narrow it down now. Especially since the Irish have given us access to the people at their Department of Mystery.

"The next issue is the Wizengamot Investigative Committee, Harry," she continued. "As you are aware, they have been slowly winnowing their way through the Ministry. Chairman Coeur de Lion was most upset the other day when Miles pointed out to him that the Ministry had no law enforcement branch, other than the town constables, and that the constables are constrained by Irish law, not ours."

"Well, I reckon he has a reason to be upset, then. I have heard about some of the questions he's asking," Harry replied, grinning.

Amelia returned his grin. "Yes, he's looking for reasons to cause problems. It will take us a while to get a department of Magical Law Enforcement operational, but first I think I'll ask Arthur to consult with the Irish to see what kinds of limits we have to impose on them."

Everyone snickered at Amelia's clear attempt to stonewall Chairman Coeur de Lion yet again.

"He is most upset about your relationship with the muggle government," she added.

Harry blinked and glanced at Hermione, as if to ask if he heard correctly. "My relationship with the muggles?"

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. She was as confused as he was.

"Yes. We knew that when we placed you as an Ambassador we'd need approval from the muggle Ministry in Exile. I pulled a few strings so that your Brotherhood is officially attached as a special unit of the Special Air Service and covered by both our Official Secrets Act and the muggles. By doing so, it keeps the Brotherhood away from our friend, Coeur de Lion.

"The downside to all this is that you've attracted the interest of several highly placed people in the muggle government who would like to meet with you."

Harry leaned back and pinched the bridge of his nose tiredly.

"Why do I think a piano is about to be dropped on my head?" he asked Hermione plaintively.

"I knew I shouldn't have let Dad show you those Warner Brothers cartoons. It's not that bad yet, Harry. Hear her out," she chided in return.

His head snapped up and his eyes bored into hers. "I seem to recall you saying something similar a few months back. The next thing I knew, I was an Ambassador!"

"Oh, do be quiet. After all, your diplomatic status did get us to New York, something you were crowing about at the time, if I remember correctly. And I do," she said, her expression smug.

"Alright Amelia," he said, turning to face her. "You're clearly setting me up for something. Let's hear it."

"It's not that bad, Harry. The Prime Minister and His Majesty would both like to meet with you sometime after the upcoming operation. His Majesty had extended an invitation to you and the other members of the Brotherhood to attend a Yule celebration at the embassy in New York. Prior to the celebration, you and your wife will met with him privately."

Harry frowned. Then the rush of excitement coming from Hermione over the bond nearly swamped him.

"I don't know what to do. What do I wear or say? I don't know... meeting the King?" he sputtered.

Amelia smiled at his discomfit. "You won't be alone, Harry. The invitation has been extended to myself and others in the Ministry. And I'm sure Hermione would be happy to help you pick out something to wear."

Harry glance at Hermione who was almost bouncing on her seat as she beamed at him. He was smart enough to restrain the urge to roll his eyes. "Fine," he muttered. "But we'll worry about it after we deal with the camps."

Amelia relaxed and sat back for a moment, enjoying her victory. Hermione looked ready to explode with excitement, much to the amusement of everyone present. She had been raised as a muggle and had a greater degree of respect for the muggle government than most pure bloods.

"One last thing, Harry, Michael wanted me to pass along the news that the Yanks seem to be working out wonderfully. Most minor crimes are down, and we haven't had another killing. He does, however, think caution should be used. He believes the killer will strike again," Amelia said quietly.

The mood in the room shifted dramatically. Harry scowled at the Minister for a moment before his expression softened. It wasn't Amelia's fault, after all. She was just passing along news that no one really wanted to face. He nodded and looked over at the Deputy Minister of Defense.

"Caleb?"

"The troops are back from their stand down. As I'm sure you know already, they are in fine form, rested and ready to go. We have scheduled a few days of light training to make sure everyone stays at their peak. The muggles have warned us of a cold front coming down from the arctic that's crowding our schedule. I had scheduled the attack for December tenth, but I think we may need to jump earlier. December seventh, I think, if we are to do anything before the cold front moves in."

Harry closed his eyes and reviewed everything that needed to be done with his forces between now and then. He nodded slowly. "I have no problem moving up the time. If it's alright with Chuck, let's do it."

Remus sucked in his breath and watched the two men. "Will we have everything on time?" he asked, thinking about the special equipment supplied by the Weasley twins.

"I spoke to Q Branch this morning," Caleb began. Draco shot him a dirty look; he had forgotten the password again. "They tell me they will have everything ready by the fifth."

Harry nodded and turned to Draco. "You're all set, aren't you?"

"Yes. We'll have over two hundred elves deployed. They'll be creating distractions and setting a few fires here and there. The Weasleys are doing a bang up job. I fully expect that production of some of their more useful items will really take off once the factory is fully operational."

"Remus? Any comments on that?" Harry asked, turning to him.

"We have Charlie Weasley taking over as plant manager. He's been hiring, but some of the jobs are pretty specialized, so he's having to look rather far afield to find people. Last time I spoke with him, he told me that he expects to be fully staffed by the middle of next month. Figure twenty days from now," Remus replied.

"By the way, Harry, we think you made the right choice with Charlie. He's been studying your portal design and has already come up with some ideas to improve them. He doesn't have the rune experience, but he's passing the ideas onto the rune masters he's been hiring on." the older man added.

"What will they be making first?" Amelia asked, curious. She had seen the large building going up next to Granger Publications. It was the largest commercial building in Haven and she could only guess at the number of people they would employ there.

"First will be the freight portals, which we will be installing at Gringotts, world wide," replied Hermione. "After that, we'll expand the facility and modify it for the consumer portals."

"How many people will you be hiring?" Amelia asked.

"Charlie is hiring close to five hundred. When we start working on the consumer portals I expect we'll triple that," Hermione said.

"Hermione? How much are we spending on this?" Harry sent her, a bit worried.

"We're spending nearly thirty million galleons, love, but I expect us to recover that loss within the first year," she replied offhandedly, though her eyes danced.

"Have you informed the Irish about this, Harry?" Amelia asked.

Harry coughed and tried to recover from Hermione's comment, then he looked at Amelia. "Inform the Irish? Do they need to know about this, other than for taxing purposes?"

Amelia sat back and considered her answer. "No, not really, but you're talking about building a business on their soil that will be ranked right up there with their largest companies. You've already got an agreement with Gringotts worldwide, which puts your Potters Portals on the fiscal map in a big way. The Irish, when they discover what you're doing, are going to be extremely happy."

Seeing his confused expression, she smiled. "Imagine if the Excalibur Corporation had started here in Ireland, rather than abroad," she told him.

He looked thoughtful. Excalibur was a well known brand name of brooms. They were sold world wide despite the company being based in Australia. Harry remembered reading in 'Which Broomstick' that the Excalibur Corporation was one of the largest companies in Australia, muggle or magical. Excalibur was a international brand that influenced both broom design and Wizarding sports. And if that wasn't enough, the Australian Ministry of Magic was exceedingly proud of the fact that Excalibur called Australia home.

"I don't think it's really necessary, Amelia, but if you want to talk to the Irish about it, be my guest. It would probably be nice to have something good to talk about for once instead of the war, or what Voldemort or France is doing," Harry replied with a smile. Let Amelia have some fun for a change, he thought.

"Nicely done, my heart," Hermione sent him.

"I thought so," he sent back smugly.


Wizengamot Building, Office of Andrew Korwin...

Andrew Korwin grunted as he took the pile of mail his secretary handed him and tossed it on his desk.

"Thank you, Maggie," he said absently, not paying attention her as she scurried from the office. She didn't mind working for Councilor Korwin, but the man had a temper that she had seen on occasion when he was busy. She did not want to see a repeat of it, even though he had bought her roses and apologized profusely for his behavior later that same day.

Korwin looked over the notes and transcripts from the latest testimonies in front of the committee. He was slowly compiling his notes for the final report that would be produced.

He turned from the pile of parchments and rifled through his mail. One letter in particular seemed out of place, as it was heavier than his usual mail. Grabbing a letter opener, he sliced the envelope open and pulled out a piece of parchment. There was a tinkling sound as something hit his desk. Moving the letter out of the way, he saw a Gringotts key.

Who would be sending me a Gringotts key? I already have an account, he asked himself, frowning.

He opened the parchment and began to read, paling as he did so.

Dear Councilor Korwin,
I realize this letter comes as a complete surprise, but I've been reliably informed by one of your colleagues that you are amiable to our cause. Our good friend, Councilor Coeur de Lion, was kind enough to leave me with pensieve memories of your meetings with him at Stonewall Lane. I can promise you that I will do everything in my power to make sure that those memories do not fall into the wrong hands, so long as you cooperate with us.

Believe me, Councilor, when I say that cooperation is in your best interests. Your friend informed me of your peculiar tastes when it comes to polyjuiced prostitutes. I'm sure the public would not be as accepting as I am, should the facts surrounding your particular brand of pleasure become known.

Along with the Gringotts account, which we will be making monthly deposits into, I can offer you a steady stream of such entertainment, all supplied discreetly, of course.

I look forward to working with you, Councilor.
Regards,
Marne Murphy

Korwin looked at the key and letter as if it were a poisonous serpent. Coeur de Lion had set him up with a minor bribe and rolled him. Now he had to figure out what he was going to do. Marne Murphy wasn't just a witch in charge of illegal potion sales in Ireland for a larger drug cartel, she was a firm supporter of Voldemort. If he cooperated, he'd be guilty of treason!

Korwin was a lot of things, including a coward, but he was loyal to his country.

He stood and pulled on his cloak. "MAGGIE!" he bellowed.

She came rushing into the office, looking at him fearfully.

"I'm going to be out of the office for a day or two, perhaps longer. Please inform the chairman of the committee that I will be absent. I'm... not feeling well," he said. He then scooped up the key and parchment, slid around his desk and bolted from the office.

Maggie's eyes widened in shock at her boss's uncharacteristic behavior. In a moment Korwin was gone and she was left to straighten out his desk. Why would someone send a vault key via Owl post? she wondered. It didn't make any sense to her.


Padfoot Manor (Dec 5th)...

Hermione padded up the stairs towards the bedroom. She walked carefully, trying not to spill the tea she was carrying. She had learned to be quiet when sneaking down to the kitchen, otherwise a house elf would awaken, or worse, Winky would appear and give her the lecture about not getting enough sleep and how drinking tea late at night would only keep her awake longer.

Slipping into the bedroom, she moved over to the breakfast table to sit and drink her tea. It wasn't all that late but the manor was silent, as everyone had turned in early. This would be the last night they would stay in the manor. Tomorrow they would move into specially prepared rooms at the Operations Center where they would spend one last night before the attack on the camp.

She watched the quarter moon cast pale shadows over the lawn and pondered her role in the coming attack. Frankly, she was sick of all the training and just wanted it to be over with. She had muscles in places she didn't want muscles.

Privately, she was more than a little afraid. She had shared her fears with Harry and he had helped her as best he could. He reminded her how she had stood up to Voldemort, and how she had fought against Death Eaters before. He didn't seem to understand that those times had been spur of the moment things, or remember how she'd shook with fear and had been sick to her stomach after it was all over.

She placed her cup on the table when a slight whimper came from the bed. She frowned and looked at Harry. In all the time they had slept together she had experienced only a few of his nightmares, and very few since they had bonded. They were few and far between now, but they always seemed to come during periods of great stress and their content varied. She had slipped into several of his nightmares after they had bonded and discovered the horrors that sometimes afflicted her husband.

She walked over to the bed and slid under the covers, cuddling up to him. She relaxed against him, then widened their link, delving into his mind.

There was a brief falling sensation, then she stopped and looked around, scowling. This was a new nightmare. She had expected to see Sirius falling into the veil, or perhaps Dolohov hitting her with that purple hex. Both of those nightmares were common when he was upset. This, though, was different. She seemed to be standing in front of the box-like homes on Privet Drive. The sun was shining and she could see several neighbors out tending to their cars or lawns. She turned and eyed the door to number Four uneasily.

Opening the door, she slipped into the house and looked around. The place was immaculate; not even a dozen house elves could make the house any cleaner. She turned when she heard a small sound and gasped, spotting a small Harry, perhaps five years old, struggling to put away a mop and cleaning supplies. He wore a baggy t-shirt that was stained with cleaning fluids, and a pair of shorts held up by twine tied around his waist. Even with his shirt on she could see bruises peeking out from under it and her heart went out to the small lad.

Harry glanced at the clock and whimpered. He slammed the cabinet door closed and ran to his cupboard. He was about to close the door when Hermione slipped in behind him. She was sure there wouldn't be room inside for them both, but there was. Harry huddled on his bed, staring at the door in fear.

Somewhere in the house a door slammed and she heard a voice.

"WHERE IS THAT FREAK BOY!"

Harry whimpered and pushed himself up against the back of the cupboard.

Hermione scowled and gestured. One of the things she had learned about Harry's dreams was that she could perform magic in them, better than she could in real life. With her gesture, the door vanished and the noises in the house receded into the distance. She turned to Harry, who was looking up at her in awe.

Despite his injuries she sincerely hoped their children would be as attractive as he was at this age. His eyes shone with emotion; fear, and hope warred in them.

"Harry, you're dreaming, love. You need to wake up," she said to the little boy.

"This is a dream? Really?" he asked, his voice trembling.

Hermione nodded and smiled. Even in this state she could see elements of the man she would fall in love with.

"Close your eyes, Harry, and wish to wake up," she said soothingly and suppressed a laugh when the little boy did just that.

There was a moment of silence and then came a roaring sound. She blinked in surprise when little Harry looked up at her and smiled. He mouthed 'Thank You', then the roaring grew louder and the scene was torn away from her.

She pulled back into herself and opened her eyes. A moment later, she was staring into Harry's emerald gaze. He rolled up onto one side, propping his head on his hand. Under the covers, his other hand sought out hers and gripped it tightly.

"Bad one?"

"The worst kind," he replied with a bit of shiver. "Have I ever thanked you?"

She blinked in surprise at him. "What for?"

"What you do for me. You've kept all but the very worst of the nightmares away, Hermione. I used to hate sleeping because I'd have a nightmare every night. Now I have them only once in a while. I didn't realize it myself until we bonded, but that's one of the things you do for me."

Hermione's blush was visible, even in the low light cast by the single candle. He moved closer and ran one hand softly up under her nightshirt, caressing her flank.

"You've done so much. But most of all I think you've kept me human. I'm not sure I could have spent my life with those nightmares and not lost myself to them. But you chased them away," he whispered, as he kissed her forehead.

She leaned into his embrace and closed her eyes. She narrowed the link between them for a moment when a wave of fear washed over her, but she couldn't hide her shiver. She wasn't afraid for herself, but she was afraid for him. Sooner or later she knew he would be fighting Voldemort and he would be alone. That frightened her to the bone.

"Hermione?"

"I'm sorry. Some Gryffindor I make, huh?" she sent him, unable to hide her tears.

"We're all afraid, Hermione. Why do you think I was having nightmares?"

"But you never seem to be afraid!"

She looked up and searched his eyes in the dim light.

He tightened his grip on her. "Don't you believe it. I may not look afraid, but when it's over I shake like a leaf. The only reason why you haven't seen it before is because Madam Pomfrey never let anyone get near me until that phase had passed. Merlin, I miss her still."

He buried his head between her neck and shoulder and breathed deeply. She always smelled so wonderful to him. He started to kiss her neck and she sighed loudly.

"Mmmm. Harry."

"Hmmm?"

"Make love to me tonight. Give me some of your strength and courage."

"Funny, I was going to ask for some of yours," he told her.

Her hands slid into his boxers and his breath hitched when she gently grasped him. He took her lips in a soul searing kiss and she melted against him.


Haven Operations Center (Dec 7th, 0400 hours)...

"Elveses of Haven!" shouted Tobby.

Over two hundred pairs of eyes turned to the small elf in the early morning darkness.

"Today we helps Haven againsts the bad mens! You knows what to do."

Heads nodded and Tobby checked his watch; a present from Draco and Luna. Noting the time, he waved his hand.

The first fifty elves vanished, heading to Britain in what would become the largest single elf diversion of the war to date.

Tobby waited, glancing at his watch. The next group would leave in fifteen minutes.


Haven Operations Center, The Brotherhood Brigade Assembly Area (Dec 7th, 0400 hours)...

Harry downed the Pepper-Up potion that the medic handed to him and shuddered. Why can't they make potions that taste good? he asked himself.

"Because then you would want a potion for it's taste and not because you need it," came a bubbling reply, then a light mental caress. "Sorry, love, but you were thinking very loud this morning," Hermione laughingly sent him.

He looked around for her, but the room was crowded with people slowly packing or checking their gear. She was in a far corner where she was going over the final checklist, making sure the command post staff had everything and that it was all in working order.

"It's a good thing we started this with these Pepper-Up potions. I don't know about you, but I didn't get much sleep last night," he sent to her as he made his way towards one end of the huge room.

"I missed you, too, last night," she replied. Neither of them slept well without the other.

Harry spotted Draco and motioned for him to follow. Draco was assigned as commander of Echo company and he was second in overall command, just under Harry.

Harry had scattered the Brotherhood among the five companies, with two exceptions. Hermione would be in his company, and Luna would be in Draco's. Hermione's presence was a compromise and Harry sincerely hoped it wasn't a bad decision. He had placed Luna with Draco because of their unique bond. Draco was, quite literally, Luna's protector. The two needed to be close together in order to function properly.

"Everything ready, Draco?"

"I think so, Harry. Most of us have checked and rechecked our equipment," he replied, then he turned to eye the crowd of Aurors-turned-soldiers.

Harry glanced at a wall clock for a moment. "Get a detail up here to break out the return portkeys. Make sure everyone gets at least four, and for Merlin's sake, don't let them mix up the return portkeys with the one for Haven. After they have the portkeys, get them assembled."

Draco grinned. "Will do."

Harry grinned back, then moved back through the crowd.

Draco move to join the most Senior Auror in the Brotherhood Brigade. He had been a contemporary of Mad Eye Moody and a former Unspeakable who went by the nickname of Twister due to his fondness for weather spells, despite their unpredictability.

Twister was a gnarled little man with a keen eye, a sharp wit and a sharper tongue. Born Morrison Sigma Northingham, he was the chief senior Auror, equal to the senior non-commissioned officer in any muggle military unit. When Twister spoke, people listened.

Twister accepted his orders from Draco with a nod. He was used to wiping the noses of young, up and coming rookies, but Harry and his Brotherhood were in a different class than he was used to. They didn't make that many mistakes and they were willing to learn.

Harry moved off, only partially listening to Twister shout out orders.

"I feel like I'm going to be sick," came a moaning mental voice.

Harry chuckled. "It's just the jitters, love. Take the potion you have for it and your stomach will settle down. At least forty percent of our people will use that potion and most of them are veterans, so don't feel bad."

Harry walked among his men, talking quietly and helping where he could; sometimes just sharing an off color joke or two.

"What did the witch do with the pony and the two midgets? I missed the punchline. And are soldiers always this crude?" she sent him.

Harry turned in her direction. He couldn't see her well, as she was still across the room from him. But as the men and women fell into lines and started to move to the assembly area, he could see her more clearly. She turned to look at him and he was struck by just how well her combat fatigues fit her.

"I'll take that as a yes, considering the feelings you're sending me," she sent in wry tone as she rolled her eyes at him.

"They're just blowing off steam. As for me... Well, that outfit looks good on you. I just might grab a spare one for you to bring home." he replied.

"Pervert." she sent him laughingly.

"Only for you, love," he replied.

He smiled when she giggled over their bond. He was about to say something else when he felt a hand touch his arm. Turning, he saw Luna, who was acting as Draco's assistant.

"Harry," she said quietly and he winced slightly. No one had been able to get Luna to conform to any sort of ranking system. "Dray wants you to know that the remotes are coming up for the landing zones."

He nodded. "Thanks. I'll be right there. Better get your gear," he added, then dropped his voice. "Merlin watch over you and keep you safe, Luna."

She smiled prettily at him and patted his cheek. "You too, my brother," she replied, then turned away and trotted up the line.

Harry turned and crossed several lines before he came to the wall. From there he walked to the front of the room. At the front, people were picking up their portkeys and filing off out a door to the assembly room, where each company would use a large rope portkey to transport them to their landing zone.

Delta and Echo companies would leave the building first. Since they were attacking from the east, they had the furthest to go. They would be arriving in a large open air car park on the outskirts of Leeds, from which they would make their way to the camp.

Able, Baker and Charlie companies would be arriving in a field just north of the camp. Their landing zone was over three kilometers closer to the camp than Delta and Echo companies.

Harry examined the two repeater screens. A pair of house elves had set up versions of the Fairy Fliers so that he could see what the status of each landing zone was.

"Looks good so far," mumbled a voice behind him.

Harry turned to see Caleb Newman looking anxious and just a bit envious. Caleb was unused to being left behind, but his new position had forever placed him outside of the physical fighting. It was something that Carolyn, his wife, was profoundly grateful for.

"Caleb! You startled me. Yes, the landing zones look good so far."

"I don't want any heroics out there today, Harry. Your job is to lead, not blow up half of Leeds," Caleb said, teasing him gently.

Harry flushed. "We'll get the job done, Caleb."

"I know you will." He checked his watch. "It's 0445, Harry. Let's get them moving. Your first two companies leave in fifteen."

Harry nodded and spoke to a few of the senior Aurors nearby and they got the line moving faster. He then turned to move back down the line, but Caleb stopped him.

He turned back and Caleb placed his hand on his shoulder. "Do us proud and bring them home, Harry. Merlin watch over you."

Harry nodded grimly. "We'll bring them all home, and hopefully bloody a few noses along the way."

Caleb nodded once and walked away. He still had Stanton and his Raiders to visit before heading to the War Room.


The Town of Haven (0500)...

Normally, a small, sleepy, country town like Haven would still be slumbering in the early morning hour, but not today. Every light in the Ministry Building was on and the building buzzed with activity. Amelia and Arthur were at their desks, busy working. Very soon they would leave for the Operations Center.

Representatives from several allied nations were working with Group Captain Anderson, who was linked via a satellite radio to a US Navy task force steaming off the coast of England.

Behind the hospital, an additional field hospital was being set up by house elves and representatives of the International Red Pentagram. The bed space that had been built on the fly after the Azkaban raid was temporarily turned into space for additional staff to bunk down until the rescued prisoners began to arrive.

A house elf run field kitchen was operating near the hospital.

In the town itself, many of the small cottages had lights on as worried spouses paced nervously and tried not to alarm their children. The block wardens, under the guidance of Olga Johansen, had organized a roving group of adults to act as emergency nannies in case a spouse needed to go to the hospital. Olga didn't know why it was necessary, only that Sven had asked for her help after getting the request from Amelia.

But not all of the cottages that were lit contained worried families. In one cottage, Amhar Coeur de Lion scowled and wondered why his neighbors were up and making noise at this ungodly hour. He glanced at his clock and growled. The Wizengamot offices didn't open officially for another four hours. He'd have to wait to lodge a complaint about the noise.


Haven Operations Center, The Brotherhood Brigade Assembly Area (Dec 7th, 0500 hours)...

"Delta Company! Echo Company! LIFT!" shouted Twister.

Draco leaned down, picked up the rope, and shot a thumbs up at Harry. He wouldn't be leaving the building for another fifteen minutes.

Harry grinned back and nodded to Twister, who was controlling the portkeys. "Three, two, one..."

Delta and Echo companies, a total of two hundred and eighty men and women, vanished, on their way to southern England.

"Final equipment check," Harry murmured.

Twister nodded. "Able, Baker and Charlie companies, check your gear and check your mate's gear," he shouted.

Harry joined Hermione at one end of the line and began to check her rucksack and belt. She was using her wand today, unlike Harry. He noted with satisfaction that her nervousness had died down. While she was occupied checking the pack of the girl next to her, he reached down and tapped the wrap around his leg with his staff. The wrap immediately tightened and warmed. It would stay that way for hours.

All that was left to do now was wait.


The War Room, Haven Operations Center (0500)...

Caleb stepped into the war room and paused when an aide handed him a fresh cup of coffee. Terry limped over to him, handing him a sheet of parchment listing contact reports. He glanced at it quickly before handing it back. "Everything alright, Terry?" he asked quietly.

"Looks that way, sir. We have the landing zones up on the screens," he replied, pointing to the wall with four active view screens.

Caleb nodded and glanced at the visitors gallery. It was, thankfully, still empty. That would change soon, of course. He expected Amelia, Arthur and several of the allied nations representatives to be up there before the hour was out.

With a shake of his head, he turned his attention back to the room. There were several large maps laid out on two tables and a couple women were carefully setting up little markers for each unit. As the units deployed, they would move the markers according to the information they received via the portable floo made by Q Branch.

In another corner, Group Captain Anderson was talking quietly on a muggle radio set that had been specially charmed to work around magic. Anderson spotted him and waved him over with a smile.

Caleb joined the man who was standing before a large map on his desk. He shook his head and marveled again the ingenuity of the muggles. Anderson wore a small headset that went to a box on the desk. He flipped a switch on the box, then turned to Caleb.

"Caleb, we're all set on our end. At oh six hundred, elements of the RAF and the US Navy will begin an aerial bombardment of Manchester, the nearest location of army reinforcements. There's a large mechanized force holding the town. With it being close to both Leeds and Wilmslow, once the attack begins, they will probably order the army out. We'll be there to keep them penned in," Anderson said.

Caleb nodded, then turned when one of the girls placing markers on the maps began to speak. "We have contact at Landing Zone Two. Repeat, contact at Landing Zone Two." she said calmly.

She laid a large red marker next to the two markers indicating Delta and Echo companies of the Brotherhood Brigade.

"Damn! Send word to Lord Potter. Inform him that Delta and Echo companies have been spotted!" Caleb snapped. One of the girls at the map table activated her portable floo.


Delta and Echo Companies, Leeds (0502)...

Draco's knees flexed on landing and he looked around. They were in the parking lot of a small mini mall. Almost instantly people moved to cover, crouching down close to the buildings. Draco was in charge of both units, although he was the nominal head of Echo company.

He whistled softly and several men began to move out toward the camp. Luna crouched down next to him and his attention was on her and the rest of Echo as they made ready to move out when a noise hit him. He looked around wildly, realizing most of his men were still in the open.

The muggle army patrol had made a change in their regular patrol route due to some roads being blockaded. It was a common practice these days and the army was used to running into these types of ambushes. However, the official policy was to avoid them if possible. It was in avoiding one of these ambushes that the patrol route was changed, placing the army unit on the road at this particular time.

There came a chattering roar of a machine gun as the APC came around the corner and spotted the group of men. Shields were cast and spells fired. The wheeled APC tilted to one side. Its machine gun continued to fire until it finally flipped over onto its side. The weakly armored undercarriage was no match for the multiple spell fire; the APC was literally torn apart.

There was a moment of shocked silence while the APC burned brightly in the middle of the road. Draco winced as he heard calls for medics up and down the line of men and women. A quick glance at Luna reassured him that she was fine.

"We have to go on, Dray," she said calmly.

"I know," he replied. Then he turned to one of the senior Aurors. "Evacuate the wounded and get everyone ready. That thing made enough noise to wake up the dead. We're going to have to run to the gate."


Haven Operations Center, The Brotherhood Brigade Assembly Area (0505)...

Harry snapped his floo closed and looked around for a moment, thinking furiously. Hermione stood behind him; she had overheard the conversation and could feel Harry's tenseness via their bond.

"Damn," he swore, then turned to Twister. "Alert all units. We go in three minutes. Delta and Echo have been spotted."

Twister's eyes widened and he nodded. He moved off and Harry could clearly hear him muttering. "Another plan hosed before it got off the ground. Great Merlin's balls!"

Twisted walked to the front of the room and blew on a whistle. "Emergency Porting! We go in three. Do one last equipment check and remember your training," he shouted. Then he reached down, grabbed the rope, and turned to watch the wall clock.

Harry picked up his section of rope. As much as he wanted to turn to kiss Hermione, that just wouldn't appear proper to the rest of the brigade. There were other married couples besides the Brotherhood in the brigade and they didn't have the chance to kiss their spouses now. Fortunately for Harry, he did have one advantage. He widened the bond between them and sent her a mental caress.

She turned and smiled gently at him. "Later, love. Later tonight I'll show you just how much I appreciate my Maglios," she sent him.

His eyebrows shot up and he stared at her impish grin. "I don't think Eocho had that sort of appreciation in mind when he instructed the Brotherhood in the role of the Maglios. But far be it from me to turn down that sort of thing," he replied with a chuckle. His mood darkened as the clock on the wall turned red. "Be safe, my beloved," he sent.

"Merlin protect and guide you, my heart."

"BROTHERHOOD BRIGADE! LIFT!" shouted Twister. "Three, two, one..."

There was a loud whooshing sound as four hundred and twenty people vanished from the Operations Center.


The War Room, Haven Operations Center (0510)...

"The Brotherhood Brigade has left the assembly area. No contact as yet with any of the Brotherhood companies," reported one of the women.

Caleb leaned forward on his chair and frowned. "They weren't supposed to go for another five minutes. Someone confirm that," he snapped.

Terry turned to Caleb. "Harry probably jumped early because of Delta and Echo being spotted. He knows he can't allow those two barracks of Death Eaters into the camp," he said quietly.

Caleb looked at his aide for a moment, then nodded thoughtfully. It did make sense. Since the first two companies had been spotted, going early would keep the Death Eaters in the barracks from reinforcing the camp.

"Stanton's Raiders report ready to go. Commander Stanton is asking for permission to go early," said another girl at the map.

"Haven Hospital is reporting receiving wounded from both Delta and Echo companies," said another girl.

Caleb shook his head. It was like trying to watch multiple Quidditch games at the same time. How the blazes did Miles handle this?

The lights came up in the small observation room when the doors opened. Amelia stepped inside with several of the allied representatives. Caleb winced to himself when he saw her and the others, but there was nothing he could do about it.

"Tell the hospital that I want updates every fifteen minutes. Also, get a list of names of wounded. "Inform Commander Stanton that he is to standby. He is not to jump without my order," Caleb replied.


Able, Baker and Charlie Companies, Landing Zone One (0512)...

All three companies touched down in a clearing surrounded by woods, just a few hundred yards from the north gate of the camp.

Harry stumbled and his leg wrenched painfully under him. He used his staff to brace himself and stay upright.

Twister landed lightly not far from Harry and ran up to him.

"Call for orders group, Twister," Harry said as he looked around. The skies were overcast and there was a hint of rain in the air.

Within two minutes, Allan Humbert, commander of Able company, Jullian Marx, command of Baker company and Bryan Marchen, commander of Charlie company were standing in front of him.

"We don't have a lot of time," he said, then he paused and winced. In the distance he could hear an explosion. "Delta and Echo have been spotted and attacked. We need to pin down the Death Eaters in the barracks before they can get into the camp. In a few minutes we're going to rush the gate and hopefully pin down the..."

He stopped when Hermione touched his shoulder. She handed him a portable floo. "Echo Six is on the floo, Commander," she said. Harry couldn't help but note the twinkle of mirth and pride in her eyes.

He nodded and took the floo. "Echo Six, Brigade Six, report," he said tensely.

"Brigade Six, Echo Six, we're about a half mile from the gates. We ran into a spot of trouble at the landing zone and decided to run for it. We've had a little trouble since then and picked up a few casualties, but we're still good," said the tinny little voice. The flame atop the floo danced merrily as Draco spoke.

"Echo Six, Brigade Six, acknowledged. We're in the field and will be hitting the northern barracks and gates within three minutes, repeat, three minutes. Hit the eastern gates as quickly as you can, Draco."

"Brigade Six, Echo Six, acknowledged. Echo Six out."

Harry handed the floo back to Hermione with a nod, then turned back to his commanders. "You have your orders. Let's get the men moving."

He looked up as a siren wailed in the distance. "Move!" he snapped to the three men.

He tightened the straps on his own rucksack and trotted towards the front of the brigade. The siren was a problem. The camp was waking up and the Death Eaters knew there was a problem. Now if only they thought it was someone else's problem and not theirs...


Delta and Echo Companies, Leeds (0520)...

It had been a nerve wracking run to the camp. They had taken a few more casualties in the run, but had largely made it unscathed.

The eastern gate was up ahead. He gagged from the smell coming from the camp and from the nearby mass grave.

Luna came up behind him and pointed. He nodded, seeing the ten men approaching the nearest tower. He knew another group of men were sneaking up on the other tower.

The ten men stood up. Together they repeated an incantation as they aimed their wands at the base of the tower.

"FILIOLUS PANGO FRENDO!" they bellowed.

There was a series of explosions at the base of the tower, then the structure twisted and slowly toppled over. Its impact raised a huge cloud of smoke and dust.

Draco glanced over to see that the other tower had already fallen and that another group was already assaulting the closed gate.

"Inform the Commander that the two towers are down and that we are attacking the gate now."


Able, Baker and Charlie Companies, North Gate (0520)...

The northern gate of the camp was next to the two buildings that housed the Death Eater guard force. When the alarm had gone off a few minutes earlier a ready force of thirty Death Eaters spilled from the barracks. They were just getting ready to disperse to their stations when Able, Baker and Charlie companies burst from the tree line, hurling hexes. But some of the guards had already entered the camp.

Harry stepped from the tree line and aimed at one tower. The observation post atop the tower ceased to exist, blasted into small pieces. Then he turned his attention to what his men were doing. He knew he wasn't supposed to fight unless necessary. He was there to direct, not to duel.

One of the barracks had been set on fire and all the windows had been shattered. Death Eaters crouched near the windows, shooting out at them. Harry's men scramble for cover or transfigured whatever they could into something to hide behind.

He turned to Hermione. "Set up the command post over there," he said, pointing to a sand pit with a nice berm in front of it. It was a good location for the command post, but they'd have to run over a hundred yards of exposed ground to reach it. She and her command post staff would be fully exposed until they reached the berm.

Hermione nodded and took a deep breath. With a nod at her staff, she began to run, her people following behind. Harry watched and winced a few times as curses were flung her way.

She leaped behind the berm and crouched down, counting her people as each made it over the barrier. One man shook off his rucksack and pulled out a large silver cube.

He blew on a whistle, then tapped the cube with his wand before backing away from it. Hermione and several others in her group popped up over the edge of the berm, casting smoke hexes to obscure the view.

The cube began to expand. It was an improved version of the portable headquarters first introduced during the Azkaban raid. Originally it was an American invention, but Q Branch had introduced some improvements to the model.

It took the building a full minute to expand to its regular size. When it did, Hermione walked over to a large rune set that Q Branch had installed and tapped it with her wand. A glistening blue dome appeared over the building. The runes were part of the set Harry had created and were powerful enough to absorb hundreds of spells. It wouldn't stop an Unforgivable, but you had to see your target in order to shoot one of those spells and no one could see through these walls. The command post staff could work in relative safety.

Hermione stepped into the building and immediately activated her floo. Several others entered right on her heels and Fairy Flier operators began to unpack their units.


The War Room, Haven Operations Center (0530)...

Caleb's hands tightened on the arms of his chair as several wall screens flickered and came on.

"I have contact with Brigade command of the Brotherhood Brigade. They're reporting they have begun the assault on the barracks. Brigade command post is not yet fully online, but it will be momentarily," reported one girl.

"Echo Company is reporting they have reached the eastern gate and are meeting little resistance," said another.

"Sir, we must send the Raiders. If that camp is alerted..." Terry began.

"Go," Caleb interrupted.

"Order Commander Stanton to portkey," Terry called to one of the girls. She immediately turned and spoke into her floo.

"Haven Hospital reports twelve casualties so far, most are from muggle weapons."

"The Brotherhood Brigade command post is coming online."

"The muggle navies are launching their airstrikes," called Group Captain Anderson.

Caleb stood up and walked to the map. Harry's brigade was now fully engaged, and the Raiders would soon be in the same boat. The flow of information was coming in fast and furious now and he was having difficulty keeping it all straight in his mind.


Delta and Echo Companies, Leeds (0530)...

Draco rocked back on his heels as the eastern gate blew apart. It had been heavily warded and it had taken the concentrated efforts of dozens of people to force them open. What clinched it for the gates was Luna. Draco watched with his heart in his throat as she darted forward. She got within twenty feet of the gates, stood up and cast a spell he'd never seen before. The wards crumbled and the spells attacking the wards immediately blew apart the gates. Luna vanished in a flash of light and smoke.

Draco darted forward until he reached what he thought was her position. The smoke was slowly clearing and he cursed when a spell caught him in the left shoulder. He dropped to his knees and fired off a spell blindly in the direction of the camp. Another spell whizzed just over his head and he rolled on the ground, clenching his teeth from the pain. The smoke finally cleared enough to see Delta and Echo companies streaming into the camp.

Struggling to his feet, he looked around wildly for signs of Luna, but all he could see were bodies of Death Eaters. Heartsick, he stumbled and then straightened up. He'd find Luna later. Right now he had a job to do. His link with her told him she was still alive. That was something, wasn't it?

He moved into the camp following one of the squads. Up ahead he could hear shouts and the sounds of spell fire.

He signaled to a nearby senior Auror, who joined him a few seconds later. The man blinked once, then pulled out his field medical kit. He slapped a self sealing bandage on Draco's shoulder.

Draco waved off the offer of a pain potion. "Not now, we have work to do. Find Echo's squad leaders and move them west to the center of the camp. We need to get to the Dementors before it's too late."

The man nodded and ran off while Draco moved deeper into the camp. All around him he could hear the men and women of Echo and Delta yelling to the prisoners to get down on the ground and stay down until the fighting is over.


Echo Company, Luna Black (0535)...

Luna had been one of the first through the gates. Echo company was moving well and the first row of blockhouses was clear of Death Eaters. She hadn't come across the enemy yet, but she knew contact had been made, as she'd heard the sounds of fighting off to her left.

She peeked around the blockhouse she was using for cover, trying to block out the worry she felt coming from Draco. He knew she was alive and that was the best she could do for now. They both had jobs to do.

Seeing no one in the avenue, she sprinted to the next row of blockhouses. Putting her back against the wall, she waited for a moment, listening. She could hear the prisoners inside the blockhouse moving around. Some where crying, others moaning. Moving towards the next avenue, she stopped long enough to look through the blockhouse window and felt her gorge rise.

Inside were what could only be termed the walking dead. The people were skin over bones; their cheeks sunken in; their eyes huge. Most were alive, if barely. But a few had obviously been dead for some time. Visual decomposition had begun, and the smell was nearly overwhelming.

Luna's face twisted and her eyes blazed. Never before had she felt such anger, such rage. How could anyone do this to another person?

Taking a deep breath, she shoved away the negative feelings and straightened her shoulders. It was true that Nature required a balance, but sometimes Nature needed a bit of help.

"Excuse me," she called to the prisoners, causing many to cry out in alarm. "I'm part of the British Ministry and we're going to be rescuing you today. But I need for everyone to get down on the floor."

The babble of voices in the blockhouse became so loud, Luna feared the prisoners would bring the Death Eaters down on them all.

"Now that's enough of that," she said firmly. "I know you've all been through a spot of trouble, but we're taking care of it. Now, get down on the floor and stay down. We don't want anyone hit with accidental spell fire. Stay inside, stay down and wait. We'll be back for you."

"Merlin bless you, Lady," one of the prisoners called.

"It's Luna, and thanks," she said with a little smile.

She ducked down from the window and moved quietly to the end of the blockhouse before stopping to listen once more. She could hear nothing over the chatter from the prisoners, but could feel the hair on the back of her neck trying to stand up.

Taking a quick, quiet breath, she conjured a mirror. Then, with a few wand strokes, she sent it across the avenue and stuck it to a blockhouse in the next row. There, in the mirrors reflection, was a man. He was about nine feet away, standing in front of the blockhouse door, ripping off his black robe. His mask had already been discarded and lay at his feet.

Luna's eyes narrowed. She couldn't see a wand, and guessed that he'd probably thrown it aside as well. Raising her own wand, she waited until he'd tossed his robe and mask away, then she stepped out to face him, her wand pointed at his chest.

"Please!" the man cried when he saw her. "Please, don't shoot! I'm a prisoner, I'm unarmed!"

"Really? How terrible for you," she said calmly, before casting an Incarcerous spell.

Luna walked towards him as the ropes tightened around him. He babbled at her in fear, still insisting that he was a prisoner, an innocent victim, and she gave him points for persistence, though she did have to deduct a few for simple annoyance. She tilted her head to study him for a moment before she reached out and poked him in the chest with one finger. Off balance, the man fell to the ground hard, unable to break his fall due to the ropes.

Leaning down, Luna smiled. "I'm so sorry. Did you trip?"

"Please don't kill me, please!" the man stammered.

"Why would I want to kill you? You are, after all, a prisoner."

"That's right! I'm a prisoner." The man continued to gibber at her, but she ignored him.

Turning away, she opened the door to the blockhouse and once she'd calmed the prisoners, she smiled.

"I've brought you a present," she told them cheerfully. "He insists he's one of you, so I thought I better bring him back to the fold." Raising her wand, she levitated the bound man into the blockhouse and set him gently on the floor.

"He's not a prisoner!" a man called out angrily. "He's one of the night guards!"

"Really? Oh, dear. My mistake then. I'm wondering though. Would you dear people keep an eye on him while I finish up my work? I'm running a bit behind schedule and really haven't the time to drag him with me."

"Leave him to us, Lady," a woman said as she shuffled forward. "We'll treat him with the same respect he's given us."

Luna beamed. "I knew I could count on you. Thanks ever so much."

She moved towards the door, then turned back for a moment. "Remember, try to stay down and be as quiet as possible," she reminded them.

"We will, Lady. Be safe," one of the men said as he approached the former guard with a wooden bed leg in his hand. He was swinging it like a cricket bat.

Closing the door behind her, she checked the avenue carefully. Seeing no one, but hearing fighting in front of her, she sprinted to the next row of blockhouses.

Sliding to the window of the blockhouse, she went through her instructions once again, telling the prisoners inside to get down on the floor and be as quiet as possible. When something exploded overhead, the prisoners hit the floor with surprising agility and Luna shook her head. Someone's aim had been off and they'd wasted a spell.

Moving quietly to the corner of the blockhouse, she peeked around it and watched as two Death Eaters picked themselves up off the ground. The misfired spell and resulting explosion had at least been useful for something.

With quick wand movements, Luna stunned both Death Eaters, then quickly checked the avenue for movement. Seeing none, she stepped out and pointed her wand at the first man.

"Reverto is somes ut orbis terrarum," she murmured, then widened her stance as the ground shook slightly.

Vines sprung up from the earth under the man and wrapped around him, much like the Incarcerous spell. Once they'd tightened, they slowly dragged him down into the earth.

She heard a small popping sound and glanced down. A small, naked man stood next her leg, stroking the horn on his head rather rudely. He made several gestures at her, obviously angry.

"Of course I didn't kill him first," she told him. "Where's the fun in that?"

She waved her wand at the second stunned Death Eater and watched with satisfaction as he was wrapped in vines and dragged under ground like the first.

"We all go back to the earth in our own time," she said cheerfully. "This was their time."

The little man grabbed his privates with one hand and gestured again with the other.

"Yes, well, Nature's timing is a little vague," she grouched. "I just helped things along, that's all."

The little man passed wind and stroked himself suggestively while he watched her intently.

"Now that was just uncalled for!" she exclaimed. "Don't be rude, dear. I have work to do and you're holding me up."

The creature grabbed his horn with one hand, flipped her a crude salute and vanished.

Luna shook her head and moved off. She would have to talk to him one of these days. He was really getting out of hand.


The War Room, Haven Operations Center (0600)...

"Haven Hospital reports over forty wounded have arrived so far and ten killed in action."

Caleb winced. He knew this had to happen. It would have been a bloody miracle if no one died, but hearing it stated so calmly? It chilled him to the bone.

He glanced up at Amelia, who nodded in understanding. She knew what he was feeling, and why.

"Stanton's Raiders are assaulting the camp at Wilmslow. They are reporting moderate resistance at this time and some casualties," said one of the map girls.

"The Brotherhood Brigade is reporting they have breeched the main gate at Leeds and are entering the camp compound," said another.

Caleb looked up when the door opened. To his surprise he saw Fred and George Weasley and the Johansen twins step into the room. All four were looking uncharacteristically serious, for once. He joined them.

"I hope you don't mind... sir," Fred said.

"We have family on this raid," George added quietly.

Caleb waved a hand at them. "Relax. Just stay out of the way and out from under our feet and you can watch all you want. Understand?"


Able Company, Ginny Longbottom (0610)...

Ginny was an angry witch. Plans had been changed because of what happened to Delta and Echo companies this morning. As a result, her company had entered the camp instead of providing outside security as they'd planned. At least a hundred Death Eaters had escaped from the barracks to the camp and they needed everyone to find them before the Death Eaters started killing prisoners.

Normally the change in plans wouldn't have bothered her, but what she saw entering the camp would be forever burned into her memory.

Just inside the gates were four children, tied to stakes. The Death Eaters were apparently punishing them. She had rushed over to what appeared to be the youngest one, a girl of maybe five or six years. She was naked and tied to the pole with bailing wire, which cut cruelly into her skin.

Ginny was about to kneel and remove the wire when a hand touched her. She looked up to see a matronly lady wearing the red pentagram, indicating she was a medic. The medic shook her head, her expression pained.

"They're gone. You can't help them," the older woman said angrily.

Ginny knelt and looked up at the child's eyes staring blankly back at her. They were a pretty blue, those eyes, and she probably had an infectious smile. But she'd never smile again.

Ginny nodded to the medic and stood, then tightened her grip on her wand and moved out, looking for her squad.

The camp was confusing. The blockhouses for the prisoners were lined up in neat rows, perfectly aligned to form avenues. Ginny darted from one blockhouse to another, looking for her squad. Running around one building, she came face to face with a Death Eater who was, apparently, trying to escape. She raised her wand, pointing it at his head.

His expression was haunted. He sunk to his knees in front of her, his eyes pleading with her. He had lost his mask and wand somewhere along the way. He was a handsome young man, perhaps a little older than herself. In another life, she probably wouldn't have minded dating someone as handsome as he was.

"Please...," he begged, tears running down his face. His black robe was stained wet with blood.

Ginny thought of that pretty little girl with the vacant eyes and adjusted her aim slightly. Her wand was now pointed squarely between his eyes. "Reducto," she hissed.

The spell blew off the top of his head, spraying blood, brains and bone against the wall of the building. His body collapsed and blood fountained out of the gaping hole as his heart continued to pump furiously, not understanding that death had already come.

Ginny was angry and she'd give any Death Eater she caught the same type of mercy as what was given to the little girl.

Stepping over the body, she moved on, never once looking back at the man she'd killed.

She rounded a corner and ducked back as several spells were hurled at her. Taking a breath, she rushed forward, firing explosive hexes and severing charms to cover her movement.

Pausing, she crouched next to the wall of one blockhouse, trying to spot where the hexes came from. When she moved, she had blasted out a chunk of the building near a window. She thought the spells were coming from there.

Inside the building she could see a man dressed in a black robe moaning on the floor. He had a large piece of wood sticking out of his stomach. In the darkness of the building, several shapes moved warily forward. She raised her wand, ready to strike again, but paused.

The building's prisoners shuffled forward, all staring intently at the writhing Death Eater on the floor. They looked emaciated; their stripped prison garb hung loosely from their bodies. Some had the distant, uncaring look of those who no longer felt a part of the world.

With an inarticulate cry, the group of prisoners swarmed over the Death Eater. One grabbed the wood in the man's stomach and wrenched it out, only to plunge it back in. The Death Eater screamed and the rest fell upon him like a pack of jackals. Someone gouged out his eyes, others clawed and yanked on any part of the man they could reach.

Ginny fell back, sickened by the sight. She could have sworn someone was using their teeth to attack him.

She leaned against the wall and threw up for what seemed an eternity. When the heaves finally ceased, she was alarmed to find herself surrounded by prisoners, who seemed confused by her strange garb.

"Who are you," croaked one woman.

Ginny straightened. She had been drilled extensively on what to say in this situation.

"I'm with the British Ministry Commandos. We're here to rescue you all," she said, then tears started flowing. She couldn't believe these were her people, these filthy, smelly, almost animal-like people. Her people. Wizards and witches.

She turned slightly, showing her arm. Her sleeve had a patch with the British Union Jack on it. Below that, the sigil for the British Ministry of Magic. On her other arm was the patch of the Brotherhood Brigade.

"Rescue?" said the woman in disbelief. Behind her, a murmur was rising, almost like a keening wail of grief.

The sound tore at her soul and sent shivers down her spine.

"That's right," Ginny said tearfully. The older woman collapsed into Ginny's arms, weeping her thanks. People were standing around her, staring at her in shock, or simply weeping with relief. Several fainted away, overcome.

Ginny's discomfort with these people receded as her compassion kicked in. They had been brutally treated, but that time was quickly coming to a close. She gently pushed the woman away until she held her at arms length and she looked the woman squarely in the eye. "You must listen to me," she said intently. "Your time of rescue is nearly here. For now, go back into the building and stay low. We'll come back for you soon and take you to a safe place. I must rejoin my unit now. We still have Death Eaters to kill."

The woman nodded as Ginny's words sunk home. She pulled Ginny into a quick embrace. "Merlin bless you and thank you!" she whispered. Turning away, she ushered her fellow prisoners back into the building, where the good news spread like wildfire.

Ginny leaned against the wall for a moment longer. The scene had been emotionally exhausting and she was sure she'd have others like it before the day was out.

She crouched low once more and moved towards the sounds of distant fighting. Behind her, she could have sworn she heard the sounds of Rule Britannia being sung from the blockhouse.


Delta Company, Neville Longbottom (0620)...

Checking that the avenue was clear, Neville motioned for his squad to move forward to the next row of blockhouses. Sprinting quickly, he reached the next blockhouse. As one of his men gave instructions to the occupants, he moved up to the corner of the structure and once again checked the avenue.

He jerked back suddenly as a Reductor curse was fired at him. It hit the edge of the blockhouse, blowing out chucks of masonry. He raised his arm to protect his face from the flying debris and cried out in pain when something struck his forearm.

One of his men grabbed his shoulders and spun him away. "Medic!" he cried before taking Neville's place at the corner.

"It's not serious, Martel," Neville hissed, holding his arm carefully.

"Of course not, sir," Martel said. "Excuse me a moment." He leaned out to fire off a spell, then ducked back. "But it's always better to have it looked at," he continued conversationally.

"Perhaps," Neville replied as the medic arrived. "It's not serious," he told the woman.

"No, just broken," she replied cheerfully as she examined his arm. "I used to wonder what it was that made men prone to injuries like this, but I think I've got it figured now."

"Oh? And what's that, Marlene?" Neville asked as she slathered pain relieving salve on his arm. He'd refused the potion.

"Oxygen deprivation," she replied, a bit too smugly.

"Oxygen deprivation?" Martel asked as he fired off another shot. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"Men suffer from it continuously," she told them as she immobilized Neville's arm. At their blank looks, she rolled her eyes. "Blood carries oxygen to the brain," she explained. "But men were given a brain and a penis, and only enough blood to run one at a time. And seeing how the Leftenant here is a newly married man..." She left the rest hanging as Martel snorted a laugh.

Neville rolled his eyes at her and looked down at his arm rather pointedly.

"You should be sent back to Haven," Marlene told him. When he scowled, she returned it. "Yes, fine. I didn't think you'd like that idea. You've been numbed up, it's immobilized. My advice is not to fall, lean or otherwise bang it up any more than it already is."

"Fine, great advice. Now you want to let go of it so I can go about my job?" he asked her.

"Oh, you're very welcome, sir," she said, batting her blue eyes at him.

He looked a bit sheepish. "I'm sorry Marlene, Thank you."

She grinned impishly, then moved back a bit.

"That's not your wand arm, is it?" Martel asked suddenly.

"No," Neville replied, moving up next to him. "So what do we have?"

"I took out the bastard who shot at you, but he had friends," Martel said with a shrug.

Neville motioned him back so he could see for himself. Three Death Eaters were crouched behind one of the blockhouses across the avenue from them. He watched them for a moment, then sighed. He could hit the blockhouse to flush them out, but that risked the prisoners inside. However...

He turned to Martel and explained quickly. After looking over the area, Martel shook his head.

"It won't work. If the spell's too powerful, we risk injuring the prisoners," he said.

"Any suggestions?" Neville asked.

"Erumpent fluid? The vials are small enough and shouldn't damage the blockhouse."

"But they're not going to just let us toss it at them. They'll see it coming," Neville said, thinking out loud. "A banishing charm, maybe?"

Martel narrowed his eyes for a moment, then nodded. "It's fast and if we twist the spell slightly we should be able to direct it's path." He reached for the vial clipped to one of his rucksack's straps and held it up. "This should do it." He looked at Neville and waited.

"Do it when you get a clear shot," Neville told him, moving back and informing his men of the plan.

The resulting explosion was what they'd hoped for. Acting much like a muggle flash/bang grenade, all three Death Eaters were stunned just long enough for Neville and his squad to surround and disarm them.

As the squad began to spread out once more, Neville and Martel broke the wands of the Death Eaters, who were beginning to come around.

"Now what?" Martel asked, holding his wand on the now kneeling men.

"You heard command," Neville told him grimly. "No prisoners and no one left behind." Pointing his wand at the base of one man's head, he murmured, "Cruor vas praemium."

The man shrieked once and grabbed his head. He pitched forward and his body jerked spasmodically. When his screaming stopped, he continued to twitch, and Martel raised an eyebrow.

"Don't worry. He's dead, he just doesn't know it," Neville told him, his voice cold.

"What did you do to him?" he asked curiously

"Ruptured a few blood vessels in his brain."

"This works just as well," Martel said. Pointing his wand at the head of one man, he cast a Reductor curse.

As the blockhouse wall was sprayed with gore, Neville wrinkled his nose and turned away. "Sloppy, very sloppy."

Dispatching the third Death Eater in the same manner he'd used on the first, Neville motioned for Martel to follow.

"Are you ever afraid that we're becoming just like them?" Martel asked quietly as the moved to catch up with the men of the squad.

Neville stopped suddenly and turned to face him. "Was killing that man pleasurable to you?" he asked seriously.

Martel scowled. "Of course not!"

"Then you're nothing like them," Neville said fiercely. "I've known a few Death Eaters and the act of killing and causing pain is what they enjoy, it's what they live for. While you and I will be haunted by our actions here today, a Death Eater would revel in them. Now let's get going. We still have work to do."


Echo Company (0630)...

Draco looked up at the building that used to house the Dementors in the camp. If he hadn't been feeling so drained and washed out, he would have been in awe. Echo company had broke into the main courtyard of the camp, and each member had cast their Patronus towards the building.

The Dementors had boiled out of the building, then flinched back from the mass of ghostly creatures. Draco walked among his men, complimenting them and chiding them where necessary. Standing up to so many Dementors was a difficult task. His men had begun to weaken when the rest of the Brigade finally arrived.

Slowly the Dementors were forced back into the building. Several men ran up to the structure and placed a set of rune stones on it. The building turned white as it, and the air around it, froze solid.

The Dementors weren't dead, but they weren't coming out of the building until the three feet of solid ice encasing it melted. Draco figured that would be sometime around next May.

He leaned back against a wall and closed his eyes. His shoulder was causing him a lot of pain, but he knew he couldn't leave yet. He fumbled with a flask at his hip, trying to get to the pain relief potion, but he couldn't get it released from his belt.

Twister, the senior Auror for the Brigade, trotted past him heading towards the center of the courtyard.

He could hear the man shouting orders, but he couldn't work up the energy or emotion to care. He still hadn't found Luna and it was killing him.

When hands tugged at his shoulder, he opened one eye and blinked. "Luna?"

She smiled at him. She was filthy, had a cut under one eye, and a bruised cheek. She was also a stunningly beautiful sight to him.

She pressed some chocolate into his hands. "Eat this, Dray, while I check your shoulder," she replied, then began to hum softly to herself.

Slowly the chocolate lifted his spirits and her gentle touch calmed his soul. "I was so worried." he whispered.

"I know. But I'm here now and we're alright. Your shoulder hurts, but it's something easily fixed," she told him. Over their bond he could feel her siphoning some of the pain away from him, easing his hurt. He tried to protest, but she wouldn't allow him to block her out.

He leaned against her, and for a brief moment all was right and well in the world, despite the fact that they were in one of the few places on the planet that made Hell look like a luxury spa.

Not far from where they sat, Twister stood, hands on his hips. He had already passed the orders from Harry to the company commanders. Now he watched with satisfaction as the Brotherhood Brigade began sending people off to safety.


Harry, Outside of the Command Post (0630)...

Harry handed the floo back to Hermione, who passed it to one of her command post staff. He looked at the outside of the camp. Extending his senses, he looked for the aura of the wards on the camp. He needed to find their edge.

Hermione frowned and watched him as he seemed to stumble a little before walking forward. The sand made for poor footing and made it difficult for him to brace against his staff.

She glanced meaningfully at one of the senior Aurors and he followed Harry, hanging back a discrete distance. By her reckoning, she was in charge of the Command Post and the security around it. And a Command Post was nothing without its Commander, therefore she was in charge of him, too. It wasn't quite military logic, but it worked well enough in her mind to be acceptable, even if she hadn't told him about it.

Harry stopped at the edge of the wards and examined them closely. He could see they had been badly cast and some were even conflicting with others. He could see the central nexus of the wards; it was the point from which they originated. The conflict between some of the wards was weakening all of them at the nexus. It was sloppy ward work at its worst. He wasn't about to complain, however, as he could take advantage of it.

He raised his staff and the Auror behind him stepped back with a gasp as Harry's body began to glow brightly.

"Ego to order illa moenia occumbo!" Harry shouted.

Suddenly a pale blue spiderweb of light appeared over the camp. The center pulsed a sickly greenish yellow color. His spell magnified the conflicts within the wards and the spider web wavered wildly for a moment before exploding in a silent display of magical pyrotechnics. There was a moment of awed silence, then came a wail as the blood wards also fell, releasing the poor souls who had been sacrificed to erect them.

Harry reached into a pouch and pulled out four discs engraved with runes. One by one he lifted the disc and murmured an incantation. Each disc rose in the air, then flew towards one corner of the camp. When all four discs were in place, he lifted his staff and activated them. For a brief moment, four large overlapping golden domes covered the camp before each faded away.

Allied anti-apparation wards were now active over the camp.

"Send a message to Able and Baker companies to start pulling out of the camp. We need to set up the traps," he sent to Hermione.

"I'll take care of it. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he sent back.

"Harry..."

"We don't have time for this, nor is this the place for this discussion! Send your messages, then prepare to move the command post into the camp," Harry snapped.

Hermione's eyes narrowed. If she was outside, she would have glared at him. It didn't help that he was right about one thing. She didn't like taking orders from him.

"Yes, sir," she replied formally. She was angry, but she was smart enough to realize that she shouldn't be angry with him. It was her problem and she'd have to work it out.


Baker Company, Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin (0635)...

Tonks opened the door to the blockhouse and cast a shield before entering. The last blockhouse she had entered she had been pelted with rocks, sticks and mud before she managed to get anyone to listen to her.

"British Ministry Commandos, we're here to rescue you!" she shouted.

The prisoners surged forward. Tonks knew exactly what to do. She reached into the box she was carrying and started pressing portkeys into outstretched hands. That caused some to start to panic, but by now she had others from the Brigade backing her up.

"TONKS!" someone yelled.

"What?" she shouted back. Honestly, was it that difficult to see that she was busy?

"Baker company's been ordered to the main gate to begin laying the traps. Pass the box off to someone in Charlie and get a move on," came the reply.

Tonks nodded and handed the box to Remus, who had been standing next to her. Harry had split up most of the Brotherhood couples. Hermione stayed with Harry, as she didn't want to take part in the fighting, and Luna was with Draco, as their bond made it difficult, if not dangerous, to split them up.

Remus and Tonks were in different companies, but that hadn't stopped them from fighting side by side. Both knew it was wrong and Harry was going to pitch a fit over it, but they didn't much care. They were a team and that was final.

Tonks moved outside and gasped in the cleaner air. The smell inside the buildings was fetid and overpowering. She had seen things today that would haunt her for the rest of her life, and she had killed, not once, but many times. Despite all her training, she had never killed before. It made her feel dirty, and she was unsure if she'd ever be clean again.

Remus had killed before, in the first war, so this wasn't new to him. She knew she'd need his support in the coming days to get through the horror of this mission. But that would come later.

Tonks shuddered once, then sprinted for the main gates.


The War Room, Haven Operations Center (0645)...

"Brotherhood Brigade reports the Leeds camp has been cleared of Death Eaters and the Dementors have been successfully contained. They're clearing the camp of prisoners now."

"The Raiders report the Wilmslow camp has been cleared of Death Eaters and the Dementors are contained. They're also clearing the camp."

A cheer went up in the room. Caleb leaned against the map table and bowed his head. Barely two hours had gone by and the camp defenses were taken. This was a success beyond anything he had expected.

"Haven Hospital is reporting one hundred and six wounded, thirty two dead and eleven who've been kissed," said one of the girls at the table.

"Alert the International Red Pentagram at Fort Ord to expect incoming casualties," Caleb said quietly.

One of the women working near the map table responded by speaking into a wall floo.

"The Americans and Haven Hospital are reporting arriving prisoners!"

Caleb glanced up to see Amelia smiling. She gave him a thumbs up. Several people working at the table began to smile and a few cheers went up.

"Steady, people," Caleb called across the room. "We still have one more phase to go on this mission."

His words had the desired effect as everyone went back to work with a renewed vigor.

"Sir, Leeds camp wards are now down and allied wards are in place. Evacuation of the camp is continuing."

"Wilmslow reports difficulty in taking down the wards. They expect them down within the next twenty to thirty minutes."

Caleb frowned and considered ordering Harry to Wilmslow to tear down the wards. Harry was capable of doing in a few minutes what it was taking a half hour to do with twenty curse breakers. But if he ordered Harry to Wilmslow, that would leave Leeds without Harry in charge; not something he wanted to do.

No, let them have their thirty minutes, Caleb thought. If they don't have the wards down by then, I'll order Harry to go help them.


Haven Hospital (0700)...

Healer August looked at her staff with pride. The wounded coming in from the field were being treated as quickly as possible, while the dead and kissed were moved to the portable morgue they'd set up. Medi-witches and healers moved among the injured, healing and comforting them as best they could.

August walked down to an exit and made her way to the portable hospital the Red Pentagram had set up behind Haven's hospital. She shook her head and marveled at the wonder of it. It contained a triage center, three operating theaters and bed space for thirty critical care patients. The remainder of the patients would either go to the main building or one of the four buildings built by the elves for the Azkaban raid.

Right now, however, she was most grateful for the additional operating theaters and trauma trained staff offered by the Red Pentagram. Haven's hospital hadn't been designed to handle such a large influx of casualties at one time. And they'd come in, in record numbers.

She paused to watch Susan Boot, niece of the Minister of Magic, issue instructions to a large group of student volunteers.

"Everyone gets a blanket and a cup of the broth. When you receive your assigned patient, you are to stay with them until they are issued a bed, then you will escort them to that bed. Remember what we talked about. Be soothing, be comforting. Don't make any promises you aren't willing to keep. If they ask you to find someone, don't promise you will. Just say you'll check the roster. Not all of the patients are coming here," Susan said seriously, then stepped back from the group.

An older woman took Susan's place and called a name. A student detached himself from the crowd and stepped up. He took a blanket from a box and a thermos full of broth before trotting into the portable hospital. Before he'd entered the building, six students were on his heels, moving quickly and orderly.

Sylvia watched Susan for a moment, her professional eye taking in the young woman. She stood off to one side, matching prisoners with volunteers on the lists she held in her hands. She was pregnant and just out of her first trimester, so she was only beginning to show. Sylvia approved of her no-nonsense approach to dealing with the volunteers and the patients.

Healer August reminded herself to send a note of thanks to Headmistress McGonagall. She had allowed most of her sixth and seventh year students to volunteer. They were a serious and dedicated group, and had bedded down at the hospital the night before the attack so they could be on hand when needed.

She shook her head, trying to clear the cobwebs. She had work to do. There were incoming patients who needed her.


The War Room, Haven Operations Center (0710)...

"Sir, Wilmslow reports the anti-apparation wards are down and have been replaced with our own wards. They are proceeding with laying the traps and continuing to evacuate the camp."

"U.S. Navy reports armored column heading north from Manchester. Column consists of four Challenger tanks and six Saxon APCs. They're commencing their attack."

"Haven Hospital reports they have reached triple capacity on wounded and are requesting permission to call in Irish aid."

Caleb glanced up at the observation room and Amelia nodded. The Irish had been standing by for this.

"Give Haven the go ahead to initiate Irish Aid," Caleb said tersely. This would initiate a complex set of steps that would result in healers and medi-witches flooding into Haven from all over the Emerald Isle. St. Patrick's in Dublin also stood ready with an extra one hundred and fifty beds, if needed.


The War Room Observation Deck, Haven Operations Center (0710)...

"Arthur, I think it's time we go roll up our sleeves and pitch in where we can," Amelia murmured.

Arthur stood. "I agree, Minister. I think Caleb has it under control here."

Amelia glanced down at the war room and the bustle of activity, then she turned to the allied representatives. "Gentlemen, if you'll follow me? Let's go find someplace where we can be of use."

Caleb never noticed the lights go out on the observation deck. He had far more important matters to worry about.


Harry, Outside of the Leeds Camp (0715)...

Harry crouched down next to Allen Humbert, commander of Able company. Both men were looking at the map they'd spread out on the ground.

"Put observation posts here, here and here. And two more, here and here, covering the eastern entrance," Harry said, pointing at the map.

Baker company was putting portable swamps along the walls that held no gates. That would prevent anyone from trying to climb over the walls. The only way into the camp was to fly, though anyone on a broom would be in for a nasty shock if they tried. There were now wards in place to hex any broom flying into the area, causing it to crash.

Q Branch had managed to come up with an array of booby traps that would make any force trying to get into the camp pay dearly. First, there were the Jelly Pits. They looked like normal ground until enough men stepped into the danger zone, at which point they sank into the pit and drowned in a viscous, jelly-like fluid.

Then came the slightly less dangerous, but always fun, wand detonator wire. A simple hexed wire was strung along the ground and looked rather innocuous. Stepping over the wire, however, would cause any wand or magical object to explode rather violently.

There were other traps, some hidden, some so obvious as to be overlooked. No matter what they looked like, they all had one thing in common; death. And not a neat, painless type of death. The twins had been especially vicious with their creations. The man-eating trash cans worked in pairs to rip men in half; the fake galleons, a few spread around on the ground of each camp, were packed with enough explosive force that, once triggered, could blow a man into pieces. Oh yes, the twins had been busy.

Harry stood carefully, leaning heavily on his staff, while Humbert snapped out orders to his men. He spotted Ginny nearby and he limped over to her.

"How are you doing?" he asked.

She sighed and put down the box of wand detonator wire. "It's not like I thought it would be, you know?"

"I know, but you're strong. You'll get through this," he replied gently.

"And what about you, Harry?" she asked. "You know Hermione's going to pitch a fit when she sees you limping as badly as you are."

He grimaced, knowing she was right. "I know, but that couldn't helped. I twisted my leg the wrong way when we arrived at the landing zone."

She looked at him for a moment, then stepped closer and fingered the potion flask at his belt. It was nearly empty. Her eyes widened and Harry backed away.

"Ginny, don't say it."

She put her hands on her hips and glared at him furiously. He had been using his pain relieving potion for his leg, something he hadn't needed in a long time.

"I don't have to say it, Harry. If one of us were in that much pain, you'd order us back to Haven," she hissed, angrily.

"Maybe, but I have a job to do and so do you." Harry retorted.

Ginny reached down and picked up the box. "I'm not done with you, Potter," she growled. "You may be in command here, but you're going to catch hell when we get back to the manor!" Turning, she walked away, muttering to herself about stubborn men and their idiotic notions.

Harry watched her for a moment, then he shook his head. She was right, but he had too much to do at the moment and his leg wasn't bothering him that bad. He didn't know how much time they had, but he had to make the best use of what was left. With that in mind, he limped off to see how things were going elsewhere.


Parliament Building (0715)...

Lucius woke to the sound of someone banging on his door. Angrily he climbed over the sleeping boy in his bed and threw on a robe.

"I'm coming, damn it!" he shouted and the banging stopped.

Stomping his way over to the door, he threw it open. "What the bloody hell is wrong now?" he shouted at the quivering man.

"My lord, we have word that the camps at Leeds and Wilmslow are under attack! We've been unable to reach either camp since word first reached us," the man replied.

Lucius leaned back a little and smiled. Voldemort had transferred responsibility of the camps to Mulciber a couple weeks ago. Up until that point, it had been his responsibility.

"Fine, I'll be in my office. Wake up everyone," Lucius said. He turned away from the door and hurriedly put on his clothing. The last things he grabbed before leaving the bedroom were his black robe and mask.

Several minutes later, Lucius sat at his desk and wondered exactly what he should do. Realistically, it wasn't his worry anymore. On the other hand, if he did something and it turned out well, it would make Mulciber look very bad.

He looked up when the commanders of his Death Squads entered the room.

"Has anyone informed Hogwarts about this?" he asked.

"No, my lord," replied Joseph Meade, one of his more competent lieutenants.

Lucius leaned back on his chair and thought for a moment. "This is not our concern anymore. As much as I'd like to rush in, it's really Mulciber's job. Here's what I want everyone to do. Get everyone ready and send out some scouts. Let's watch what Mulciber does before we decide to jump into the fire."

When the group nodded, Lucius stood up. "Send word to Mulciber that the camps are under attack, then ready the men. If Mulciber gets too badly beaten, we can jump in and pull his arse out of the fire."

Many of the men grinned, a few even chuckled. Screwing your fellow Death Eater was the key to climbing the ladder of success and power in Voldemort's forces.


The War Room, Haven Operations Center (0900)...

The flow of information altered radically in the last hour. Both the Brotherhood Brigade and Stanton's Raiders were firmly entrenched in the two camps. So far, there hadn't been a response from the Death Eaters.

The only information Caleb was getting now came from quarter hour updates, or the hospital, where they were dealing with over two hundred wounded and fifty dead or kissed. Irish healers had poured into Haven during the past hour. Large open air potion brewing kitchens had been set up and potion masters from all over Ireland were helping brew whatever was needed. Meanwhile, potion stocks around the country were being used heavily.

The latest news from the Americans was that they were processing nearly thirty five hundred people at Fort Ord in Monterey, California. It was a decommissioned muggle army base and perfect for the American Department of Magic's needs.

Caleb clenched the report in his hands. It was only a rough estimate and the numbers were changing constantly, but it looked like the rescue had been a smashing success. Between Haven and the Yanks, they had received eighteen hundred and twelve men, sixteen hundred and forty two women and five hundred and two children, for a total of three thousand, nine hundred and fifty six people.

Caleb looked up in surprise when Inga Johansen handing him a fresh cup of tea, along with a few extra napkins. He had been considering the conditions these people had endured and wondering if his two little girls would have made it out. He nodded jerkily and took the tea and napkins, then he turned away to wipe the tears from his eyes.

Inga eyed him knowingly. Strong men were often afraid to show signs of weakness. The Weasley men were like that, only they covered their fears with jokes and pranks. But in the middle of the night, when the jokes and pranks didn't work, their women knew the truth.

"Contact! Brotherhood Brigade Observation post is reporting a force of Death Eaters approaching from the north. Estimated force strength in excess of one thousand Death Eaters."

Caleb's head whipped up and he stared at the girl for a moment. "Get me Lord Potter," he snapped. Then he stood impatiently while the girl mumbled into the floo for a few minutes before handing him the little device.

"Haven Six, Brigade Six," came a tinny voice.

"Brigade Six, Haven Six... Harry? Can you hear me alright?"

"I hear you, Caleb. I figure you're calling about our visitors."

"Damn right I am. Our plan called for you to have superior numbers."

"I know what the plan called for, Caleb. I helped you create it, if you'll remember. They have at least four hundred more men than I do, but I'm in the defensive position. You know that a fortified position acts as a force multiplier. They may a thousand men, but with my traps and other defenses, I have the strength of nearly two thousand.."

"Don't lecture me, Harry! I taught you most of that stuff," Caleb snapped angrily into the floo.

"Then let me use what you taught me, for Merlin's sake! Look, Caleb, the traps will account for a hundred, two if we're lucky. Then I'm going to hold them by the nose and bloody it good before we leave," replied Harry.

Caleb looked uncertain. He'd made command decisions before, but never one of this magnitude.

"Wilmslow reports contact with a large Death Eater force approaching from the southeast. Estimate attacking force strength in excess of eight hundred," said one map girl, breaking the silence.

Caleb sighed, then turned back to the floo. He had never felt as alone in his life as he did right now. "Very well, Brigade Six, continue as planned. Haven Six out."

Caleb handed the portable floo to the girl and turned away, not bothering to wait for Harry's acknowledgment.

The plan was in motion, friends were in harms way, and all he could do was sit in the Operation Center and pray.


Leeds Camp (0905)...

Harry handed the portable floo to Hermione and looked over the roughly drawn map of the camp. All of the living prisoners had been evacuated. Some blockhouses near the gates had been demolished in order to provide cover for the brigade. Delta and Echo companies were covering the eastern gate, while Able and Baker covered the northern gate. Charlie company was held in reserve in the center of the camp, ready to move in either direction, as needed.

Harry knew his position was bad. He had been right about fortifications multiplying his force strength, but he neglected to point out the obvious fact that he had to split his forces to cover two gates. He shook his head and walked over to examine one of the Fairy Flier screens. It showed a large force of Death Eaters moving cautiously up the northern road towards the camp.

"Recall the observation posts on the northern flank," he said quietly.

Hermione turned to pass the order on. A few minutes later the men manning those posts were back in the camp.

"Anything on the eastern side?" he asked.

"No, sir. We have Fliers out to nearly a mile and don't see anything," one of the operators replied.

"Contact Echo. Have them shift to the northern gates and leave Delta as a blocking force."

"Contact," said one of the Flier operators.

Harry turned to look at the screen. He winced and tried to ignore his leg for the moment. On the screen he saw the Death Eaters coming into the clearing adjacent to where the barracks used to be. There was a moment of silence before someone ordered them to spread out and move forward.

The group moved forward slowly, then flinched when several of their number screamed in fright as they began to sink into a Jelly Pit. The men nearby tried to pull their comrades out, only to fall into the pit themselves. Others attempted to levitate or summon them and were horrified when they discovered that they could only summon that part of each man that was above the jelly.

Learning quickly, the Death Eaters began to send scouts out in front of the main body. While those scouts weren't enough to trigger a Jelly Pit, they did trigger the wand detonator wire.

Harry blinked in surprise. He was watching one scout who vanished in a gory explosion of flesh and bone. Apparently the man had a wand in his hand and another in a holster strapped to his back.

He straightened and shook his head. "I've seen enough. Keep the communications up and running, but prime the building for demolition. I don't want them getting any prizes for their efforts. I'm heading to the north gate," he told Hermione.

Hermione watched him leave and she nibbled her lower lip with worry before she turned to issue new orders.


The War Room, Haven Operations Center (0915)...

"Leeds reports it is fully engaged with the enemy."

Caleb looked up at the map. It was too late to pull them back now. They were committed, regardless of the outcome.

"Haven Hospital reports more incoming wounded."

"Wilmslow reports it is now fully engaged."

Caleb sat heavily. There was nothing more he could do. He could send no aid, no advice, nothing. It was the most depressing and demeaning thought a man of action could possibly have.


Leeds, North Gate (0917)...

Harry stumbled into the hole and someone immediately jumped on top of him.

"What the hell?" he shouted, then ducked as an explosive spell went off nearby.

Twister looked up and grinned at him. "Having fun, sir?" he asked.

Harry noted that, somewhere along the line, the man had lost one of his front teeth.

Twister rolled off him and Harry peeked over the rubble. He found a high concentration of Death Eaters and cast a wide field stunner. More than forty men dropped to a spell that only he could cancel. Since the stunner would never wear off, they were as good as dead.

Alan Humbert jumped into the hole and smiled grimly.

"Report," Harry shouted at him. It was hard to hear over the din of battle. Overhead, bolts of light flew like comets and he could hear people shouting out incantations all around him.

"We're good still. I figure we're at seventy five percent effectiveness, but Echo took a bad hit from an explosive hex we can't identify. They're probably down to sixty percent," Humbert shouted back.

Harry turned and sat back in the hole, thinking for a moment. His orders were to give the Death Eaters a good thrashing, not to stay and fight to the last man. He turned to Twister. "Sound the general recall. I think we've done all we can today."

Twister nodded and made a complex movement with his wand. An eerie siren wail washed over the camp. It was the signal to assemble in the center of the camp and to prepare to activate personal portkeys back to Haven.

Hermione snapped out an order and everyone piled out of the command post building. She waved her wand and the command post quickly started to burn, then she pointed her wand straight up.

"Justicia Praeconor Vestri Vox," she cried. A huge beam of light exploded from the tip of her wand and shot straight up. The beam expanded into a huge Celtic Cross that could be seen for miles around the camp. It was an uplifting sight as the Brotherhood Brigade gathered their wounded and dead and made ready to leave.

Remus hurried past Hermione, then stopped and turned towards her as she started to droop. The spell had taken a lot out of her. He picked her up and hurried to the center of the camp where most of the Brigade were waiting for the siren to stop. A minute later, he was joined by Tonks. Then Twister arrived and shoved a badly limping Harry at them.

Harry staggered for a moment and grabbed Hermione's hand for balance. Then the siren stopped.

There was a moment of utter silence, then people began to vanish, portkeying away from Leeds. In less than a minute, the camp was an empty shell of its former self.


The War Room, Haven Operations Center (0920)...

"Sir, the Brotherhood Brigade Command Post has sent out the recall signal..."

Caleb dropped his cup of coffee and ran for the door. Fred and George Weasley and the Johansen twins were on his heels, nearly stepping on him as they bolted out of the War Room.


Haven Operations Center, The Brotherhood Brigade Assembly Area (0923)...

Caleb paced nervously. Where are they? They should be back by now, he thought. Nearby, Fred and George watched him worriedly.

A door slammed open and all five of them jumped in surprise. Arthur Weasley stood panting heavily, his hair askew. Caleb was about to say something when the assembly area started to fill with people. He could hear moaning and shouts for medics from all over the large hall.

"Arthur, get the ready medical team down here," Caleb yelled, then he ran to help one man who was bleeding heavily.

George and Fred seemed frozen, immobilized with worry, while their father ran from the room. Then Fred spotted her.

"OI! GIN-GIN!" he shouted. She turned to look at him and her eyes filled with tears. Both sets of twins ran to embrace her. Nearby, Neville sat nursing a broken forearm while the Johansen twins fussed over him. Around them, the medics rushed to find the most seriously wounded before working on others.

Harry sat not far from Draco and Luna. Hermione was next to him, and he could see Tonks and Remus not far away. Draco seemed to be injured, but everyone else seemed alright. He turned and grabbed Hermione, holding her tight. Military protocol be damned, he thought. Right now I need to hold her and have her hold me.

"Damn straight," she replied via their bond. "And don't think for a moment I don't know what's wrong with your leg."

Harry winced mentally, then sighed. She could yell at him all she wanted now. She was safe, they were all safe. It had been a hellish morning, but it was over.

For them, anyway.

Voldemort's forces had yet to face their master. Harry knew all too well that the Dark Lord did not take defeat well. With a Celtic Cross burning over each of the camps, Voldemort's fury would be felt by his own forces for a change.

It was enough to warm the heart of any Boy-Who-Lived.


Author's Notes:

"Well, that was a good place to end it," Bob said with a happy grin on his face.

"Oh, sure. Lots of explosions and fighting. All guy stuff. Where's the girl stuff? You know, candlelight dinners, Harry singing to Hermione, the girly stuff!" Alyx said in a huff.

"Relax dear, it's coming up, along with some other cool things. Besides, we just had a major battle scene. Don't you think I deserve a rest?" he said in protest.

There was a sudden clanking sound and Bob slumped over in his chair.

Alyx looked at him and nodded in satisfaction, then she put away her frying pan. "Now you can rest," she mumbled before reaching for the chocolate ice cream and the video of Thelma and Louise.

A Wizengamot soundtrack? Probably the theme song from the movie Planet of the Apes.

Rebel Goddess: It's difficult to give everyone air time in every chapter, but we're trying.

Mel Evans: We'll see more of the Hogwarts ghosts and Peeves in the coming chapters. They really are a very minor subplot to the story.

Crys: He's meant to be an annoying prick.

Michael: Unfortunately for your sanity, you'll have to hang in there for a while longer.

Aengus: The mystery killer wouldn't be a mystery if we told you who it was, would it?

Lurk: As Eocho stated, for good or for ill, the Angel's role in this war is nearly complete. We'll see them again from time to time, but never organized like they were at Azkaban.

Note to all Amy's out there. And we do this on behalf of Meotoricshipyards. All Amy's must die. Just kidding.

Noylj: We're sorry you don't get it. So let's try one last time. Harry isn't a dictator. He isn't in charge of the war effort. The Ministry is. Yes, Harry has a very important role, but the Ministry needs to follow most of it's own laws, which explains why the Wizengamot had to be brought back. If they hadn't brought them back, they (meaning everyone involved in the war effort, including Amelia and Harry) could have faced war crimes trials once they returned to Britain and the Wizengamot reformed there.

Brownie points to all those who figured out the Bond reference with Blofeld.

The simple fact that Coeur de Lion is annoying so many people merely shows we're succeeding in doing exactly what we hoped for.

For all those Brits who threatened us because we called it "the Union Jack" instead of the Union flag, be thankful we didn't call it Mum's Dish Towel or something equally silly. Besides, we outnumber you, so we're right. NEENER NEENER BOO BOO! (Ducks)

And now, it's time for a new feature of our author's notes. BLOOPERS!

Yes sirree, it's time for bloopers. Each chapter, we'll offer you two bloopers that make you sit up and go, "Huh"? These are taken from online stories and usually are a mistake, but when you look at them, they sort of throw you for a loop. Or should that be Bloop?

Here are the rules for the Bloopers.

It must be a real word, but the wrong one, something that a spell checker would overlook. Ideally, the blooper must be funny. If you want to submit bloopers, you must provide the URL for the page on which it resides, as well as the full sentence containing the blooper.

To show we're impartial, we'll start off with our own blooper first. To be nice, we won't tell you the url from which these bloopers came from, unless they came from our stories.

From our own Dumbledore's Army
Sitting next to Remus, Harry explained about his trip to Diagon Alley and the mistake made by the Goblin, who brought him to the Family Vault, instead of his normal fault.

Well, yes, I guess it would be Harry fault if he didn't go to his normal vault.

This next blooper comes from another author's story, though we won't post the URL.
I would like to especially welcome the new students and coagulate them on a wonderful sorting last night.

That must have been one bloody sorting ceremony if they need to be coagulated! Good thing they didn't kill off Madam Pomfrey in that fic like we did.

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