Sunrise Over Britain :: Chapter 1

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Severus Snape slowly woke up. Realizing he was wet, and that was an experience he hadn’t had while waking up since he turned thirteen. Opening his eyes he blinked and also realized he was tied up… and in a cauldron?

Looking around he could see a staff dancing around the outside of the cauldron. A top the staff was a bloody human skull. Somewhere a drum beat wildly. He leaned to one side in time to see Filius Flitwick dancing around the cauldron. He wore only a leopard skin loincloth and he had a six inch bone through his nose.

Harry Potter and Hermione Granger walked into sight. Harry was dressed in an handsome Tuxedo and Hermione graced his arm wearing a sequined evening gown.

"POTTER!" Snarled Snape. "Get me out of here!"

Harry smiled. "I’m sorry Professor, but I can’t. You see, you haven’t said the magic words. Besides, tonight Hermione and I are playing a new game. I’m pretending to be a actor named Daniel and she’s going to be my love lust Goddess named Emma."

"If you would just say the words Professor, I’m sure Bob and Alyx would let you out," offered Emma sweetly.

Snape snarled, then sighed. "Oh very well. The authors of this story would like you to know that they do not own the Potterverse. They further insist that I tell you that any resemblance I might have to someone named Alan Rickman is purely an accident and I am really a cruel snarky bastard that doesn’t bathe often enough."

"You had to add that didn’t you?" Growled Alyx.

"Hush, watch Filius," replied Bob.

Filius climbed into a cab of a large truck and backed it up to the cauldron. Flipping a switch the back started to open and fish poured into the cauldron.

"What?" asked Alyx.

"Evil Mutant Sea Bass with friggen Lasers on their heads," Bob said smugly.

Alyx looked skyward and wondered if Dorothy had these kind of problems.

*** IN CASE NO ONE CAN TELL, THIS IS AN AU FICTION AND THE SEQUEL TO SUNSET OVER BRITAIN. IF YOU HAVEN’T READ THAT STORY, PLEASE DO SO. WE STRONGLY SUGGEST IT OTHERWISE YOU WILL BE LOST AND WE WILL NOT SEND OUT A SEARCH PARTY FOR YOU.***

Sunrise Over Britain
Chapter 1

Brighton Beach, England (April 28th)…

"Mama, you must eat and drink something. You need to keep your strength up," Tripuri said. When the other woman showed no signs of hearing her plea, she sighed in resignation.

Tripuri placed the bowl with the cold soup off to the side in the hope that perhaps later she could get her mother to eat. She then moved to the back of the store, away from her mother, and wept.

Shortly after the fall of Hogwarts, Voldemort’s forces had come for them. They had escaped, though not without her mother being injured in the ensuing fight for freedom, and had been on the run ever since. Tripuri was a full healer, but could do little for her mother’s injuries without the proper potions.

She jumped when she felt a hand touch her shoulder.

"No change?" asked Gurprit. His eyes were haunted by the sights and sounds of the last two weeks.

"No, Papa, she gets weaker everyday. If we can’t find help soon, we’ll lose her. She took too many hits from those men, and now she refuses to eat anything. She wants to talk to Padma and Parvati," Tripuri said, her eyes brimming with tears.

Gurprit sat heavily on a chair and his shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Did you hear any news? Or find any food?" asked Tripuri. They had been hiding in this business for four days now. During the summer months it was a t-shirt store but it was closed for the winter months and would probably not reopen anytime soon… if ever.

"Precious little of both. I found a few cans of food that don’t look as if they’ve been damaged too badly by fire," he told his daughter. "Rumor has it the Queen is dead and V-V-Voldemort has been declared her successor. There are rumors of fighting up north, elements of the Muggle army still loyal to the crown. Among the wizards, the rumors are even stranger.

"There’s talk of foreigners arriving and taking the mark to serve the Dark Lord. And they’re saying that anyone who takes the mark will be fed and cared for. The British Wireless network is gone, but some say they can still hear the stations from France and Ireland…"

"Gurprit? Is that you?" came a wavering voice.

Gurprit surged to his feet and quickly walked to his wife. "Shh, my Shaila, you must rest. You must save your strength," he urged, kneeling beside his wife.

Shaila smiled at her husband of forty years. "I know my time comes to an end, husband. I want to write a letter to send to Padma and Parvati," she said.

Gurprit shot a glance at Tripuri, who shook her head. Apparently his wife was so far gone she had forgotten that Padma and Parvati had died when Hogwarts fell. He wiped the tears from his eyes and, smiling, he reached for a piece of paper and pulled a muggle pencil from his pocket.

"Tell me what you want to say. Tripuri’s owl will take the letter when it’s done," he said gently, fighting back tears.

An exhaustive hour later, Gurprit offered the paper to Tripuri’s owl. The small gray bird looked at him for a moment, and then he did something totally unexpected. He snatched the paper from Gurprit and exited the building through a broken window.

Father and daughter exchanged amazed looks. The owl wouldn’t have accepted the letter if the girls were dead. The two watched the speck disappear into the gray sky and knew hope wasn’t dead after all.

Reactions…

The fall of Britain came as a major shock to the world. For several days the world teetered on the edge of a world wide financial collapse, following on the heels of the fall of the British Pound. The Euro lost more than eighty percent of its value as people realized that the European Union had lost one of its most powerful economies. The Dollar and the Yen shot up in response to the loss. Fortunes were made and lost in hours as the markets fluctuated by hundreds of points.

The flood of refugees from Britain, once an uncontrollable tidal wave, inexplicably slowed, then stopped. News from the island itself had been reduced to a trickle, mostly reports of unrest and disaster. Flyovers by reconnaissance aircraft and satellites showed the cities of Manchester, London, Aberdeen and Leeds to be burning, and there was no sign of organized attempts to control the fires.

To add confusion to the mix, the naval forces now patrolling British waters were reporting a visible and unknown curtain of energy, averaging ten to fifteen miles from the coastline, and surrounding the island. Governments immediately classified the information and a complete news blackout was imposed on the naval forces. That kept news of the curtain from leaking any more than it had, but it also left the various governments with the problem of hundreds or thousands of sailors with knowledge of the strange occurrence.

The night the curtain appeared, most of Europe suffered brownouts and total loss of electricity as all of Northern Europe was treated to a massive aurora light show. The Muggle governments tried to explain the strange event as a confluence of an intense solar wind hitting one particular part of the atmosphere and causing a localized Aurora and disruption of the local power grids.

Of course the curtain wasn’t totally unknown. In fact, every head of every Muggle government had been informed by its Magical counterpart that the curtain had been their doing, and that it must be ignored - the very knowledge of it suppressed.

The Magical Governments had conferred among themselves even before the line had been erected. Ireland was playing host to Harry Potter and the other Governments opted to defer to Ireland’s Ministry in this regard. However, the purpose of the line was still unknown. The Irish Ministry had been scheduled to meet with Harry Potter and his advisors, but due to injuries suffered in his battle with Voldemort, he was unable to meet with them for a few more days.

One thing was certain. The Irish Ministry was telling all the other Governments that Harry Potter had sealed most of Voldemort’s forces within the island of Britain. And for that reason alone, the Wizarding world breathed a sigh of relief. The worst wasn’t over, not by any means. But somehow, Harry Potter had bought time for the Wizarding Governments to take action.

Padfoot Manor, Haven (April 30th)…

Hermione opened her eyes and stretched. She felt something move at the bottom of the bed and slowly wind its way up to her. Then it meowed.

"Good morning, Crookshanks," she whispered and reached out to scratch the ears of her furry friend.

He responded by rumbling like a small freight train and pushing against her hand. Crookshanks’ climbed up higher on her until he was crouched down on her chest and she was grateful that the comforter protected her from his needle sharp claws as he kneaded it.

Hermione smiled at her familiar and lay there, idly scratching him. Next to her, Harry turned on his side. She glanced over to see if he was still asleep. His bout with the flu was past and he was back to his usual robust self, although she promised herself that she would make sure he didn’t over extend himself again. Surprisingly, even Harry seemed to be interested in preventing that.

When Crookshanks meowed once more, adding a trilling little questioning noise at the end, she laughed. Her familiar was reminding her, rather nicely for a change, that scratching his head was her primary duty in life… except when it came to feeding him, of course. She scratched his head a bit longer, then moved him off her chest so she could get out of the bed.

Crookshanks, being a cat, immediately found the warmest spot left on the bed by her absence and curled up next to Harry.

Hermione threw on her robe and padded, barefoot, into the bathroom. She loved the master bathroom. It was, in her opinion, sinfully decadent, with an enormous tub to relax in, or to entertain in. That thought made her blush, but she privately admitted that she enjoyed bathing with Harry, not that they had a lot of time for it anymore.

When she finally left the bathroom, relaxed and dressed, she was pleased to see that Dobby had brought up coffee and tea for them, laying out a continental breakfast on the table near the window. She had Dobby do this several times a week so that she and Harry would have some time to themselves.

Sitting at the table, she looked out the window and sipped at her tea. She enjoyed the morning tranquility and, not for the first time, wished that all their problems would go away so that they could be alone. Outside, birds flew from tree to tree and, somewhere on the grounds, a squirrel named Nutters vanished from sight as Hedwig ghosted silently back to the Manor owlery after a night of hunting.

She could see some of the buildings of Haven in the distance. She had to marvel at what Harry had managed to build here. He had pulled in the people, marshaled their talents and put them to work. The result was a burgeoning town of nearly three thousand people.

Harry sighed on the bed and reached for her. She smiled, watching him from her chair by the window. He’ll wake up soon, she thought. Once he began to reach for her and discovered she wasn’t there, he woke up looking for her. The first couple of times he had done it, she had been startled, but it was now strangely comforting. After spending most of her life sleeping alone, she had quickly adjusted to having him in bed with her and now needed him there to sleep comfortably as much as he needed her.

Sipping her morning tea, she idly leafed through the parchments on the table. She had taken charge of keeping track of Harry’s time, making sure he didn’t over extend himself again. Today, he was meeting with the Irish. He also had an afternoon session scheduled with Remus and Miles.

She smiled into her cup as Harry groaned and rolled out of the bed. Crookshanks immediately moved to his warm spot. He shuffled over to where she was sitting and kissed the top of her head before heading for the bathroom. In some ways, he was very predictable. He kissed her every morning before anything else, then started his day.

A little while later he stepped from the bathroom and, with his teeth now brushed, gave her a proper kiss. Then, pouring himself a cup of coffee, he sat down. "Mmmm… a kiss that tastes like tea and jam," he commented.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "What do you expect when you kiss me like that and I’m in the middle of breakfast?" she asked archly.

"What I always expect," he replied with a grin. "You always taste good enough to eat."

He laughed softly as his innuendo caught her off guard. She blushed, and then she smacked him lightly, laughing with him. She couldn’t help but marvel at how much he had changed in the last year. How different he was from that sick boy at the beginning of last summer. He now sat beside her, a powerful, confident man. She wouldn’t admit it publicly, but he occasionally intimidated even her.

The events of the last weeks at Hogwarts had been a turning point for him. He had emerged out the other side more mature… a leader. His attitude was quiet, confident and his manner inspired confidence in others. She rather liked this Harry. This was the Harry she always knew he could grow into. The old, insecure Harry was still there and shone through on occasion, but he was rising to his challenges magnificently.

"Nothing on the line yet?" she asked him.

"Not a twitch, but I didn’t expect one yet."

Hermione frowned. "Do you think he knows about it and has a way to bypass it?"

"Not a chance. I think I know what’s happening though. Do you remember how many Death Eaters he had when he attacked Hogwarts?"

"Yes, I remember," she said quietly, trying to suppress the memory of what was one of the most frightening nights of her life. "It was around three hundred or so."

Harry reached over and took her hand in his own. Turning it over, he kissed her palm softly before placing it back on the table and smiling gently. He leaned back in his chair then and sipped his coffee. Morning coffee was a habit he was becoming accustomed to since coming to Haven. Hermione wouldn’t touch the stuff, but he was quickly developing a taste for it.

"I’ve been thinking," he said carefully. "I’ve been trying to put together some numbers in my head. As much as I hate to admit this, I must have killed or severely injured at least three hundred in the Ministry that day. If we then figure in the three hundred or so who accompanied him to Hogwarts, he had to have less than a thousand marked Death Eaters.

"I figure that, in that one day, I took away one third of that number. Then he used another third to attack the castle. Figure the final third was off busy at Azkaban or one of those new camps we’ve been hearing about. Now, O’Dalley says that Dolohov is here with at least one hundred and fifty Death Eaters, although I think he’s wrong." At Hermione’s questioning look, he smiled grimly. "Oh, Dolohov is here with a group of Death Eaters, but not as many as O’Dalley thinks… … not until he recruits them, at any rate. So I don’t think we’ve felt a twitch on the line since it went up simply because Voldemort is short on help at the moment and is keeping most of his forces close to him."

Hermione scribbled a few notes on a piece of paper and then looked up at him, frowning in thought. "If we go with your numbers, he has less than five hundred marked Death Eaters in Britain right now."

He nodded. "I think so also. And that’s why he hasn’t tried to breech the line yet." He sipped his coffee and reached for his schedule for the day. "Hmmm… Morning meeting with the Irish, I see. Well, it needs to be done. Now that I’m over the flu, there’s no sense putting it off. What are your plans for today?"

"I’m meeting with Remus this morning. He received a shipment of old books yesterday and I want to look though what he picked up," she offered, hiding the real reason from him.

Harry nodded and then frowned. "Hermione, can you research dementors for me?"

She looked startled. Then her eyes narrowed. "We’ve been down this road before, Harry, even in our third year."

"I know, but I was thinking about them last night and something doesn’t make sense. Did you know they only exist in the U.K. and nowhere else?" he asked.

She nodded but still looked at him blankly.

"Think, Hermione. There are ten different sub-species of dragon from all over the world. There are four sub-species of unicorns. Asian centaurs look differently than European centaurs. A North American Fairy is different from an English fairy. A Cornish Pixie looks nothing a Roman Pixie.

"So why is it that there’s only one type of dementor? One type, and they are found only in the U.K.? Even a Lethifold doesn’t look like them and isn’t related to them. It’s not normal. Why isn’t there an Australian version? Or a feared South American dementor that wears a sombrero and a poncho?"

"Harry, are you suggesting that someone made the dementors?" she asked incredulously.

He nodded grimly. "I think it’s a possibility. And if someone made them, they have to have a weakness we can exploit."

She nodded and added the information to her notes. Like Harry, her days were becoming increasingly hectic. She had business that she had to do for the war, and for herself, and business she took upon herself to deal with because Harry wasn’t doing it. In that regard, she was protecting Harry’s interests and, by proxy, her own.

"You’re meeting with a head of state today. I think you should wear your Potter family robes," she murmured, looking up from her notes.

Harry frowned. He had put on jeans and a t-shirt. Granted, he had already decided that wearing a T-Shirt that read, â€˜I caged Voldemort, ask me how!’ would be inappropriate to wear when meeting with the Minister of Magic. Reluctantly, he nodded. A moment later, Dobby appeared and laid out his dress robes on the bed.

Harry blinked in surprise then leaned closer to Hermione. "How does he do that?" he whispered.

Hermione watched the little elf and tried to fight back a giggle. "I have no clue." she replied, shaking her head.

Giving up, she laughed outright at Harry’s bewildered expression. Standing, she kissed his cheek and left him to dress while she started her own day.

Hogwarts Castle, The Great Hall…

Voldemort sat in his great chair and drummed his fingers idly against one arm of it. He had always dreamed that controlling Hogwarts, and the rest of the U.K., would be the pinnacle of his life. The reality, however, was turning out to be quite the opposite.

Sure, he had won Hogwarts, but it was an empty shell now. Its vast wealth of knowledge and lore had been stolen out from under his nose before he could even enter the castle. Fortunately, few knew that fact, and he had been very careful to limit the Death Eaters allowed into the building to the original group who had helped capture it, along with a few trusted lieutenants.

One of the downsides of this policy was that he had to travel to Little Hangleton and Riddle Manor to meet with his other servants. He would be doing just that this evening to mark over two hundred new servants.

Voldemort looked up from his brooding when Lucius entered the hall.

Lucius had proven adept at controlling the muggle officers that led his army and they were now in control of all but a few small pockets of resistance. The blond had studied the muggles extensively and had learned their ways. As a result, he was carefully controlling the muggle army to preserve key segments of the muggle infrastructure. Lucius wanted control over the media and communications, in particular. At first Voldemort had wanted all aspects of muggle society destroyed, but Lucius had explained the value of maintaining some industries and how they could be used to control the masses.

Lucius stopped short of his master and bowed low. He knew his master was a truly great wizard, probably the most powerful wizard alive, but it was his job to convince Voldemort to keep parts of muggle society whole and active. It was a job that was becoming increasingly difficult, since Voldemort didn’t understand the scope of what Lucius was dealing with.

"Well?" the Dark Lord snapped, his eyes flashing dangerously.

"My Lord, I’m pleased to announced that another pocket of muggle resistance has fallen. With the collapse of resistance in Inverness, all other pockets should soon fall. Most were taking orders from the remnants of British Army Command that had been holding out in Inverness. Brigadier Worthington is concerned about possible insurgencies at this point, and he does have reports of growing acts of sabotage.

"We have managed to preserve large sections of the media installations, as well as power facilities. Worthington still thinks he’s doing this for King and country," Lucius said with a smirk, "as he now believes that Voldemort the First is the legal king of the United Kingdom."

Voldemort allowed a small smile to tug at his taut lips, then he frowned again. "Tell me again why we are preserving so much of muggle life. Why don’t we just put them to work until they die or kill them outright?"

Lucius hid his sigh. It was an ongoing debate and he needed to make his master understand the importance of the muggles. "My Lord, we’ve gone over this and I have to apologize to you and beg your mercy. But please, let me try to explain to you the reasons why I push for a more lenient policy towards the muggles."

Voldemort motioned with one hand for him to continue. "Explain then, Lucius. But know that my patience is wearing thin. If I didn’t know better, I would say you were afraid of these muggles," he said, sneering.

"It’s not fear, my Lord, it’s respect for the one thing they have that we do not. Let me try to explain it this way. In Britain, we have… what? Sixty or seventy thousand wizards and witches, correct?"

Voldemort nodded grudgingly.

"That sounds like a lot, my Lord, but there are sixty million muggles in Britain. Sixty Million. They out number us one thousand to one. We can kill vast numbers of them, but they could swarm over us, if only they realized it. Knowing this, I am trying to keep those parts of muggle society together that can help control the masses. I have no doubt in your ability to reduce their population down to more manageable levels, especially when you understand the problem I have been dealing with, but it’s going to take time. Until it’s been done, however, we need to control them."

Voldemort leaned back in his chair as he struggled with the concept. "Very well, Lucius, I see your point. Do what you have to, but keep the muggles under control. In the meantime, what other news have you for me?"

"My Lord, Antonin begs to know if you can release some of the Irish he has sent you so he can return some of your other servants."

Voldemort reached for a parchment on a nearby table next to his chair. "There are some twenty Irish taking the mark tonight. Once they are marked, I will release them back to him and he can send back the twenty. Owl him and let him know about this change."

Lucius bowed and backed away. "It shall be as you command, my Lord."

Padfoot Manor, Harry’s personal study…

Harry, Amelia Bones and Arthur Weasley stood when Michael O’Dalley and Brogan Mallory entered the study. The study, with its comfortable high back chairs and quiet surroundings, made an excellent place to talk.

"Minister, it is a pleasure to finally meet you," Harry said, smiling and holding out his hand.

"And I can say the same thing, Mr. Potter. An honor it is as well," replied Mallory, taking Harry’s offered hand and shaking it.

Harry smiled at O’Dalley as he waved both men towards the chairs. The man had taken to spending considerable time here in Padfoot in the last week.

"Minister, I apologize for not being able to meet with you sooner…" Harry began as he sat down.

Mallory stopped him by holding up a hand. "No need to apologize, Mr. Potter. Michael here informed me of the reason behind the delay, and I’m certainly not going to be so churlish as to fault someone for being ill."

Harry nodded in relief. Politicians were notoriously strange people and he wasn’t sure what he could expect from this man. After all, his greatest experience with this particular brand of wizard was his exposure to Cornelius Fudge.

"My primary reason for asking for this meeting, Mr. Potter, was to speak with you about Voldemort and what you have been doing."

"Has Michael explained about the line, sir?" asked Harry.

"He mentioned something, but to be honest, I thought he must have misheard you. Warding a whole country?"

"That’s exactly what I’ve done, sir. There now exists a line of death extending some fifteen thousand kilometers around the island."

"A line of death?" asked Mallory incredulously.

"Precisely that, Minister. The line, which is visible, will kill anyone carrying Voldemort’s mark. So you can take comfort from the fact that, while he may be bringing people into Britain and marking them, he is unable to send them out of the country."

"So it’s just keyed to the dark mark?" asked Mallory.

Harry smiled thinly. "No, sir, keying to just the dark mark would have forced him to stop marking his people. The line is double keyed. If you carry the dark mark and cross the line, you die. If you don’t carry the dark mark, but have a black aura, you arrive at your destination very ill and in need of a potion that only the healers of Haven know how to brew. We don’t want Voldemort to send unmarked forces out of Britain. With an unmarked Death Eater arriving and feeling like he’s about to die, he will seek a healer’s help and we’ll find him.

"As you are aware, auras really aren’t a good indication of good or evil as much as they are indications of someone being susceptible to temptation. But from what I understand, anyone who has purposefully hurt another will darken his or her aura. Most of the Unforgiveables require an intent to cause harm, and we will rely on that intent to darken the auras of people.

"Our healers will have a good supply of the potion on hand. I suggest a joint task force to handle these people, Minister. One healer from Haven, along with a British Ministry Auror, will accompany two of your Aurors. I also suggest that the sick individual be given a truth serum before being given the antidote."

O’Dalley rapidly scribbled notes while Harry spoke. Mallory considered Harry plan as objectively as possible, but he couldn’t help feeling elated. Harry had already eliminated the primary concern he had had.

"It’s a cruel solution, Mr. Potter, to interrogate before you cure," offered Mallory, curious about the young man’s response.

Harry nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, sir, it is. But this is war, and we are sometimes forced to take actions that we would not normally take in more civilized times. Our enemy is a cruel enemy. He offers no terms or quarter. I am merely replying in kind to his own methods."

"Mr. Potter," Mallory started, very pleased by what he’d heard. Harry might be young, but he was definitely fighting a man’s war.

"Please, Minister, call me Harry," he interrupted quietly.

Mallory’s grin broadened into a wide smile. "Very well then, Harry. I think we can do this. I’ll alert the other Ministries, but I think it’s a workable deal. What I’d like to do, however, is go public with some of the details about the ward you’ve put in place. My people are understandably nervous, being so close to Voldemort and Britain."

Harry shook his head. "No, I think we should hold off on that for a few more days. Right now there hasn’t been a single breech of the line. I think it would be to our advantage to wait until Voldemort discovers what it does before announcing it to the world. However, I do realize the position this put you in. So I’ll make a counter offer you might find appealing. If you wait in announcing the existence of the line, I will personally stand by your side at the press conference when the announcement is made."

Mallory’s eyes lit up hearing Harry’s offer. Such opportunities were rare, and here was the Boy-Who-Locked-Voldemort-In-Britain offering to participate in a joint news conference! "Your solution is acceptable, Harry," he replied, trying to gush. "Now, turning to the business of the British Ministry in Exile, specifically the efforts to maintain the secrecy of our world…"

Irish Ministry of Magic, Office of Owl postings…

The small gray owl flew through the open window and made its way straight to a special desk that had been set up two days ago.

The clerk looked up in concern. The bird looked exhausted. "’ello girl. Let me just get your letter and send it on its way and then we’ll take care of you. You can rest before you have to leave again."

The small owl hooted exhaustedly and offered up the letter.

The clerk removed the letter from the bird, set it aside, and then walked the worn out owl to a perch where it could rest. He then selected another bird from a special group set up for this very purpose.

He scanned the unsealed letter briefly, frowning, then gave it to the new owl. "Priority routing to Haven," he told the bird before tossing it aloft. The bird circled once, twice, then flew out the open window.

With the letter on its way, he turned to the exhausted owl and began administering the care it needed to recover.

Padfoot Manor, Hermione’s personal study…

Hermione sat in front of her desk looking over some notes she’d taken. When Harry first showed her the room and told her it was for her own, personal use, she wasn’t overly impressed. It had a desk and a few bookshelves and that was about it. He had then told her to talk to Dobby about decorating the room to be what she wanted. Hearing that, she attacked the room with energy. Between Dobby, a few of the other elves and Hermione’s transfigurations, her study was now a very comfortable place for her to sit and read, or hold quiet conversations.

"You wanted to see me, Hermione?" asked Remus from the doorway.

"Yes, I did. Thanks for coming, Remus. I find myself in a difficult position and I’m unsure what to do about it," she replied, waving her former professor to a seat.

"Oh? Well, if you tell me what the problem is, I may be able to offer some advice."

"Harry’s shown me some of the reports you’ve sent him. I know this isn’t really my business, but is he really spending that much money every week to keep Haven going?"

He raised one eyebrow. "Actually, Hermione, I think the costs are going to go up for a while longer."

She frowned and nibbled on her lower lip for a moment. "Blast! I just don’t know what to do."

"What is the problem?" he asked, concerned.

She looked at Remus for a long moment, measuring him. "Alright, this is one of those â€˜do it and I’m damned, don’t do it and I’m damned’ things. I might as well plunge right in. Look, I know I’m just Harry’s girlfriend, but I’m concerned about how much money he’s spending. I know I don’t have a right to be, but he doesn’t seem to care. Someone has to look out for his interests." When Remus began to laugh, she frowned at him and crossed her arms.

Getting control of himself, he wiped away the tears of mirth and looked at her intently. "I expected to have this conversation with you sooner or later, Hermione. I remember James talking about a similar one he’d had with Lily in their seventh year, before he had asked her to marry him. Forgetting the fact that Harry is one of the wealthiest wizards on the planet, the Potter men have always had one particular… failing, if you will. Money. Harry, like his father and grandfather, would give his fortune away if it weren’t for the women in the family.

"From what I recall, Harry’s grandparents were the same way. The Potter men seem to have a knack for increasing the family fortune without really trying. I offer you the money he received from the Goblins for warning them about the upcoming troubles as an example. Anyway, as I was saying, the Potter men increase the fortune without really thinking about, and the Potter women make sure the fortune is there for the family.

"I realize you may be embarrassed, but I don’t think of you as being some sort of gold digger. If anything, you’re protecting your investment so that your children will be taken care of." He chuckled when she blushed at the mention of children.

Hermione leaned back in her chair in relief. "So, what’s the solution, Remus? How do we do everything we need to do and make sure Harry doesn’t bankrupt himself in the process?"

"I can tell you a little of what I’ve done so far, but I’m open to more suggestions. For one thing, I have negotiated several loans to Amelia so that the Ministry in exile is funded. The loans are long-term loans with very favorable terms for Harry, but the Ministry will not be in any position to begin paying him back until we’ve returned to Britain.

"I know that it’s going to be important that Haven get up and running on its own two feet soon, so I’ve been on the lookout for opportunities that we can bring to Haven that will allow the residents to stand tall, get jobs…earn their keep, if you will, and bring some income in for Harry as well. Mind you, now that the bulk of the construction is completed in Haven, Harry could finance the running of the town for thirty years before he’d even notice the money being spent. But I do agree with you. We need to work on getting our residents productive and on their feet. It will be good for their morale."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully. "I think I understand now. I’ll keep my eye open for opportunities as well. I’m sure there’s an idea out there just waiting for us to stumble upon. But about Harry… you’re saying this is something his father and grandfather also did?"

"Don’t misunderstand me. Harry isn’t doing this because his parents did. In Harry’s case, he simply has no idea of how to handle his fortune. He’s trying to learn, but between that and everything else, which do you think he’ll let slide?"

She grimaced. "Yes, he would consider this unimportant, despite the good he’s done with it."

He nodded, and then looked up as Dan and Emma filed into the room.

"Thank you for your time, Remus," Hermione said. "It was a most illuminating discussion. I’ll keep an eye out for what we talked about."

Remus stood and smiled at Dan and Emma as they filed into the room. Hermione gave them each several hours of instruction in Arithmancy and Runes every morning, and in the evenings Harry gave them instruction in charms and defense. They went to the school for potion and transfiguration instruction, but Harry had been insistent that he teach them defense and, since so many charms were useful in that topic, he combined the two.

Hermione smiled up at her parents, her father in particular. Ever since Harry had powered up their cores he had spent hours learning spells and practicing. Emma was by far more advanced in theory, but Dan had the practical down pat.

"Hermione, watch this!" Dan exclaimed, brandishing his wand with a flourish. "Sive lepus" he chanted and pointed his wand at Hermione’s desk.

There was a popping sound and a white rabbit appeared on the desk. Hermione looked up at her father and smiled. Inwardly she wondered why Harry had taught her father such a useless spell. Another popping sound was heard and another rabbit appeared, then another and another, and another. Hermione’s eyes widened as she realized that Harry had given her father an open looped spell that would cycle forever and she fumbled for her wand, now buried under the bunny covered desk.

Emma sat in her chair tittering and Dan was laughing at the look on Hermione’s face. Unable to find her wand, she snatched up her staff. "Finite Incantatum!"

The popping noises ceased, but the bunnies remained. She banished the bunnies, then turned to see both her parents holding onto each other and laughing loudly. Placing her staff where it was easily reached, she also holstered her wand and faced her jocular pupils.

"Well, I see Harry’s been busy again. I think I’ll have a few words with him," Hermione said in a huff.

"Oh, pumpkin, don’t be mad at Harry. He’s trying really hard to keep our interest but he’s in an awkward situation. We’re both much older than he is, and he sees us as your parents. For every spell we successfully master under him, he teaches us another fun spell. He thinks learning is easier if there is some fun involved," offered Dan with a grin.

Hermione looked at the pair suspiciously. "So he’s teaching you useful and fun spells? What sort of fun spells?" she asked.

Dan and Emma looked at each other for a moment. "Well, the fairy lights was a fun spell," offered Emma, "and so was the room coloring spell."

"And there was the all-nighter. That one was quite enjoyable," Dan said with a smirk.

Emma blushed and laughed nervously.

She gaped at her parents, shocked. With a groan, she buried her head in her hands.

"Hermione?" asked Emma in alarm.

She stared at her mother, then turned to her father, her face flaming. "Would you excuse us, Dad? I need to talk to Mum and teach her a few spells that I don’t think you’d be interested in. Remus is around, why don’t you go look him up?"

Dan looked at his daughter and knew she was upset about something. This was quite a role reversal for the two of them. With a puzzled look, he stood and left the room without comment.

Hermione watched him leave, and then turned to her mother, muttering. "I am so going to kill that boyfriend of mine! No person should have to give their parents the talk!"

She ignored Emma’s gasp as she tried to figure out how to proceed.

"Mum, there are a lot of sex spells that witches and wizards can use to enhance the experience. Unfortunately, most of them also have side effects which increase potency and fertility, sometimes to the point of overpowering muggle birth control methods…"

Emma blushed a bit, but cut in before her daughter could continue. "Dear, Harry also taught your father several contraceptive charms. Actually, it was one of the first things he taught your father. He wasn’t able to teach me the charms women use since he didn’t know them."

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief and straightened in her chair. "I can teach you those, Mum. They aren’t hard."

Emma nodded, but her eyes bored in on Hermione. "I’ve talked to Minerva and she explained that with the gift that Harry gave us, I could have children as late as my eighties. Does the thought that you might someday have a brother or sister bother you? Your father and I talked to Danni about this. I had a very rough delivery with you and that’s why we never tried for another child, but Danni assures us that there would be no danger if we wanted to try again."

Hermione’s brow furrowed and her eyes dropped to her hands on the desk. "I suppose it does Mum. All my life I’ve had you and Dad to myself. I don’t know why, but the idea of sharing you bothers me a little."

"We feel the same way about having to share you with Harry. And that’s on top of the fact that Dan and I both love that young man to pieces. I am not saying we’re trying for more children, but I do think you need to face that possibility, especially after this war is over," Emma said quietly.

Hermione smiled weakly, then shook herself. "Right then, let’s start with the basic seven day contraceptive charm and work our way up to the six month charm."

Haven School of Witchcraft and Wizardry…

Minerva McGonagall smiled as she took her seat. The last few weeks had been hard on everyone and her rough, stern demeanor had taken a beating, as she had to deal with children desperate for news about their families. She smiled more often now and was surprised to discover that sometimes a smile was even more encouraging to a student having a transfiguration problem than her usual stern frown.

Everywhere she looked she could see Harry and Hermione’s influence in the overall design of the school. There were no house tables and no head table in the Grand Hall. The dormitories were broken down by year, rather than house.

The library was huge! Even after all the books had been put away, there were dozens of empty shelves left over. Tall windows lined the library letting in plenty of sunlight and Hermione had introduced what she called a "study station". Basically it was a desk surrounded on three sides by partitions where students could work peacefully without disturbing those next to them.

She had shown the representatives of the Irish Ministry Department of Education and Certification around the school three days ago and they were most impressed. The school was a mix of ultra modern and the medieval decor of Hogwarts. Minerva was very pleased when they issued all of her staff certificates based on their experience. The posts of Defense and Potions were still filled by substitute teachers, but the Ministry people said they would send her a list of candidates to look over.

The Grand Hall didn’t have a skylight charm like the Great Hall of Hogwarts, but the House elves had placed many of the portraits in the Hall and Professor Flitwick had charmed the large windows on one side of the hall to display scenes from around the world. Today the windows showed a moonlit beach. Instead of the larger house tables, they had filled the Hall with smaller tables, seating ten people per table. Every day the teachers would pick another table to sit at, this way the teachers could connect with their students better. It was one of the biggest changes and she heartily approved of it.

Minerva was about to start on her soup when she heard a cry come a nearby table.

"Parvati!"

Padma Patil clutched a letter in one hand and looked around frantically for her twin. Minerva spotted a green banded owl taking off from the table Padma had been sitting at. The green band signified that it was one of the Irish Ministry owls set aside to deliver inbound mail to Haven.

Filius Flitwick and Minerva converged on the upset Ravenclaw from two different directions.

"Please, Professor, we have to do something. They are still alive!" Padma said, weeping against the Headmistress.

She let go of the letter and it fluttered to the floor. Filius retrieved it just as Parvati run into the Grand Hall. She had sensed her twin’s confusion and fear and had come running.

Minerva looked at Filius, an eyebrow raised in question.

He scanned the letter, frowned, and then read it out loud.

My darling daughters,
It seems like it’s been forever since we heard of the fall of the school and the loss of everyone there. Your father, Tripuri and I have tried to be brave in the face of the news, but it hasn’t been easy. Now my time comes to an end and I will soon be with my little girls. I only wish I did not have to leave your father and sister behind.
I’ll be with you again soon, my darlings.
Mum

Parvati looked at Filius in horror and she unconsciously reached out for her sister. Minerva gripped both girls by the shoulder, forcing them to look at her.

"Girls, you must calm down. We will do everything we can to help. Now both of you follow me. Filius, you have the school until I return."

Minerva took the letter from Filius before she exited the hall, setting a brisk pace. The Patil twins nearly had to run to keep up with her. Being much taller than the twins, Minerva’s pace kept them from talking to and worrying each other. She led them straight to the operations center, a building neither girl had visited before. Entering the building, she led them down a long stairway that ended in a corridor. Then she knocked at a door and waited before entering.

"Come!"

Miles Pickerton looked up and gave a pleased smile when he saw Minerva enter the room. His smile drooped a little when the two girls followed her, but his curiosity was immediately piqued. "Minerva?"

"Miles, I’d like to introduce to you Padma and Parvati Patil. They just received a letter from their parents," said Minerva, handing Miles the letter.

"Ladies, meet Miles Pickerton. He’s the man who’s going to try to make things better for you both."

He frowned as he read the letter. He then stepped out of the room for a moment. When he returned, he had several people with him. "Are we sure this letter is authentic?" he asked.

Padma nodded vigorously.

"That’s my dad’s handwriting," offered Parvati.

Miles handed the letter over to one of the people he had brought into the room with him.

"Delivered by owl this morning?" asked the man. Miles nodded in agreement.

"The mother is obviously sick or injured. We’ll need a healer on the team," said the man, and then handed the letter to the woman standing next to him.

The woman didn’t even glance at it. She did, however, cast a spell on it. "Brighton Beach," she murmured. "I can’t narrow it down any further than that."

"It’s a start," said Miles. "Why don’t we send an extraction team to Brighton? From there, they can use an owl trace. The question is, do they portkey the targets directly back or not?"

"That’s up to the healer," said the first man, shrugging.

Miles sat back for a moment before turning back to the Patil twins. The two girls had watched the conversation, hope clearly evident in their expressions. He smiled softly at them. "Ladies, I know you’re both worried and very scared. You’re going to have to be brave now. At dusk, we’ll send out an extraction team. If all goes well, a couple hours after that, you and your family will be laughing about this and planning a celebration. Now, if you’ll follow Minerva, she will take you back to the school. She’ll bring you back when your parents arrive. Given the content of the letter, they’ll probably portkey directly to the hospital," he said, aiming the last comment specifically at Minerva, who nodded in understanding.

Padfoot Manor…

Harry got up from his chair and stretched. The Irish Minister and Amelia had left nearly two hours ago and he finally felt the pull of hunger. He was supposed to meet with Remus and Hermione after lunch. Too much sitting lately and bed rest, he thought to himself. Starting tomorrow I’ll begin swimming again.

He left his study and was heading to the dining room when he stopped in amazement. Standing on the landing of one of the lesser used stairways he looked out over the backyard of the Manor house and saw Dobby and house elves. Hundreds of house elves… clothed house elves!

Frowning, he shook his head and continued down the stairs.

Entering the dining room, he ignored the frown he got from Hermione, and the curious looks from the others, as he walked to the window and looked out at the strange group of elves.

"Remus," he said intently, "I know we have count of the number of humans in Haven, but has anyone counted the non-humans?"

Remus looked at Harry standing by the window and shook his head. "I don’t think so. Why? Other than myself and some house elves, there can’t be that many of us."

Harry shot him a murderous glance.

When Remus simply raised an eyebrow, he turned to look out the window again, but only briefly. "Stubborn old wolf," he muttered, loud enough for the older man to hear. With his Lycanthropy, Remus considered himself a dark creature and non-human. They had argued about it numerous times.

Remus chuckled quietly and Harry conjured a small chair next to one of the dining room chairs, then he sat down and called Dobby.

A moment later Dobby appeared, facing Harry. He was wearing khaki short pants and a khaki shirt, just like the other elves on the lawn. He snapped off a salute, which Harry was forced to return.

Behind him, Dan and Emma snickered and even Hermione giggled.

"Dobby, I’d like to talk to you. Please sit down," Harry said, motioning to the small chair he had conjured.

Dobby’s eyes grew wider, if such a thing was possible, and he slid into the chair Harry had indicated. "Is Dobby in trouble, Master Harry?" he asked in a small voice.

Harry smiled gently at the little elf. "No, Dobby. Even if you had done something wrong, friends forgive friends, they don’t punish them," he replied. "I am curious about something though. Why are there several hundred elves out on my lawn dressed in uniform?"

Dobby’s ears drooped and he hunched down on his chair. "These be house elves with no homes, Master Harry. They be hearing from Hogwarts Elves and come here looking for work and families. They are too many for all the families in Haven. So we decide to bond to Haven, like the Hogwarts Elves bond to the school. They cooks and cleans and helps where they can."

"That’s not that bad, Dobby. And I’m not angry with you. But tell me, how many elves are there?"

"One hundred score, Master Harry."

Harry leaned back on his chair, shocked. "One hundred score? We have two thousand house elves?" he asked, addressing no one in particular.

He stood then and began to pace the room. Dobby watched from his chair, his huge eyes tracking Harry’s movements constantly.

"Two thousand elves," Harry murmured. "Think about it, Remus! Even if we can only get a few to agree to help us, we could build a spy network that would be unparalleled."

He spun to face Dobby then, his eyes blazing with energy. "Do you think you can convince some of your friends to help us by finding out what’s happening in Britain?"

Dobby nodded and leapt from his seat. "Dobby knows many elves who want to help go home, Master Harry. Shall I go ask them?"

Harry nodded and the little elf saluted him again. He glanced at Dan before returning the salute. When Dobby disappeared, he turned to the others, noting their shocked expressions. "Draco, I think," he murmured.

Hermione shook her head. "Draco? For what? And did you just do what I think you did? Recruit house elves to spy for you?"

Harry sat in his chair and began putting food onto his plate. "Yes, I just recruited house elves to spy and I think Draco would be the perfect person to organize it."

"But Harry, that’s dangerous!" she protested, ignoring the looks her parents were giving her.

Harry stood and scowled at her. "I know it’s dangerous, and I know it’s very likely that some of them may get hurt or killed doing this. But this is war, Hermione. I’ve sent dozens of people back into Britain every night to rescue people. Fred was injured on one of those trips. Seven others have also been injured. Sooner or later, someone will die.

"But, Harry…"

"What are you going to say when you discover I’ll be crossing the line as well? Mark my words, I may not be doing it tonight, or tomorrow, but as sure as the sun rises in the east, I’ll be crossing that line and doing my part in this fight," he said angrily

"It’s not the same thing! They are elves, oppressed elves, and you want them to sacrifice themselves?" she asked heatedly.

"It’s war," he snapped back. "I’ll use every method, person and tool at my disposal, including myself, to win. Do you think Voldemort is going to say, â€˜Oh, don’t do that to the poor elves?’ Of course he isn’t. You need to grow up, Hermione! This isn’t another one of your idealistic crusades, like SPEW!"

She flinched, but he ignored the small movement and continued. "I’m making decisions and telling people what to do and I hate it! But everyone seems to expect it of me. Do you think I like doing it?"

Hermione reeled back as if he’d struck her.

Harry looked at her for a moment longer, then spun on his heel and left the room.

She moved to follow him, but her father gripped her by the arm and shook his head. "I’ll go," he said simply.

Remus looked at her, his eyes boring into hers. "I’m surprised at you, Hermione. I thought you, of all people, knew what he was going through." His tone left little doubt about his disappointment and his anger.

When she blanched, Emma laid a hand on her shoulder and shook her head at Remus.

He eyed Emma for a moment, then crossed his arms and looked away from both of them.

Emma looked at her daughter. "Have you told him how frightened you’ve been, Hermione?" she asked gently.

She looked down at the table, shaking her head mutely.

"How can you expect him to understand if you hide your fear from him, dear?"

"I want to, Mum, but he’s got so much to worry about," she replied in a whisper.

Remus leaned across the table as realization of what had happened hit him. Hermione was reacting out of fear; fear for Harry, and for others.

"Hermione, Harry loves you. The only time I’ve seen a love as strong was watching James and Lily together. You know he’d do anything to help you. But Harry, for all his good qualities, can be quite dense sometimes. You can’t hint around with him. You know you have to come out and say what you’re feeling," he offered.

She nodded and her expression grew pained as she considered what she had just done. "Do you think I should apologize to him?" she asked in a meek voice.

Remus shrugged. "If I know Harry, he’ll be happy to hold you in his arms and say nothing for hours on end."

"I’ll talk to him after dinner tonight," she offered with a weak smile.

Outside the Manor…

Dan caught up with Harry outside the manor house. He was furiously polishing his Firebolt, even though he hadn’t ridden the broom in months.

"She loves you, you know," Dan said quietly.

Harry stopped polishing and looked across the field. "I know she does, but sometimes I think she doesn’t understand what I have to do," he said with a heavy sigh.

"Oh, she understands, son. Believe me, she does. But she’s frightened. And because she’s frightened, she sometimes says things without thinking them through first. It’s a very human flaw, Harry."

Dan moved to sit on a nearby bench. He leaned forward and looked at Harry closely. "I remember when Hermione was six, she developed an interest in meteorology. Within a week she had plowed through every weather book in the library, and then convinced us to buy a few for her. She could explain all the types of clouds, and tell when the weather was turning good or bad just by knowing the barometric pressure and if it was rising or falling. And yet, for all that knowledge, she would still run to our bed in the middle of the night when a thunderstorm passed by.

"She’s a very smart woman and she loves you deeply, but this war frightens her and Hermione has always had problems with fear," he said, and then his expression grew thoughtful. "She’s brave with things like backing you up against Voldemort because that’s a life and death, here and now type of situation. But when you talk about things in the abstract, like using elves to spy, or going over to Britain yourself, it frightens her. Believe me when I say that she knows exactly how you feel when you have to send someone into harms way. She’s explained it often enough to us."

Harry bowed his head. "I owe her an apology, don’t I?" he asked.

"No, not really. But you do owe her, and yourself, time to talk and several hours or even days of relaxation. You two have been at the heart of this war since the evacuation and you need some time for yourselves," Dan offered.

Harry nodded gratefully at the older man. Their roles were confusing at times, but they were building a friendship anyway, despite that confusion.

"I’ll talk to her after dinner," he offered with a weak smile.

Brighton Beach, England…

Newspapers fluttered up the street as the wind swept through the nearly empty town. There were few signs of the local townspeople who made their living on the tourist trade. The tourists wouldn’t be coming this year and no one knew if they’d ever come again. For most Britons, this had been a time of deep shock.

Most people were huddling in their homes, still hoping that a miracle would happen and they’d wake up to find that the army had put down the unrest, and that the morning post was being delivered, along with petrol and food to the local stores. Some tried living out of their own larders, but in such populated areas, people had adopted the habit of not storing large quantities of food. Why should they? The supermarket was only a short drive away.

For the people of Brighton, the reality of the situation came four days after the bomb. Someone had crashed a van through the front of Morrisons. The store had been closed since the power failed, two days after the bomb. The first group of people to showed up at the store had been small, perhaps ten people. An hour later, a hundred were swarming over the store, looting it for anything they could carry home and eat. On several occasions during that day, shots rang out and bodies were left bleeding in the aisles and in the parking lot. As evening fell, someone, perhaps upset over missing out on the free food, had set fire to the building.

The building had stopped smoking only days ago.

It was dark and deadly quiet when the five man extraction team apparated into the alley behind the former supermarket. The team leader moved to the entranceway of the alley and looked around carefully, while his second in command checked a high quality foe glass.

The team had been training and performing missions similar to this one since early April, when the government placed many of the Aurors and their families on the run. The team had five members, four fully trained ex-Ministry Aurors and a field healer, always called Doc.

The leader looked out across the broad boulevard. There was a glow on the horizon as a town up the coast burned. At his signal, another man readied the small owl they had brought with them.

With a flick of his wrist, the owl was sent aloft. The bird had a short message written by Padma for her mother. The owl circled for a moment, then took off in a south easterly direction. They waited until the owl was out of sight, then the team member lifted his wand and whispered, "Owl point me."

The wand lifted from his hand and slowly moved to face the direction the owl had traveled in. Above the wand, small glowing numbers read two point five, then two point six. The leader nodded. Two point six kilometers and the owl was still going. Casting illusion charms on themselves, the team prepared to move out, following the owl. Hopefully they wouldn’t have to go too far.

In a closed T-Shirt business just over four kilometers away, a small non-descript owl flew in through a broken window and landed in front of Tripuri. Both she and her father recoiled in shock and fear at the sight of the owl, then Tripuri removed the message with a shaking hand.

Breaking the seal and unrolling the parchment she was relieved to see the lettering glow slightly, making it easy to read in the darkness. She read the letter once, then again, and hope bloomed where it had once withered and died. Fighting back tears, she read aloud to her father.

Stay where you are. Help is coming. Insist that the help that arrives gives you the proper password: "There is a Haven for all of us." If all goes to plan, we will see you tonight. Love,
Padma and Parvati.

Gurprit listened to his daughter and nearly fell to his knees. "Alive?" he whispered. Then he looked over at the still form of his wife, who lay on the floor. Turning to Tripuri, he gripped her by both shoulders. "Watch the street, and don’t forget the password. I will talk to your mother."

Tripuri nodded and moved cautiously to the front of the store, staying in the shadows as much as possible. Gurprit moved to sit next to his wife.

"Shaila… my little Shaila, you must open your eyes," he crooned to her. Slowly the woman opened her eyes and smiled gently at her husband.

"Gurprit, I was having the most wonderful dream…" she whispered.

Gurprit took her hand. "I know, my love, but now you must be strong and fight for me. Help is coming! We’ve heard from Padma and Parvati. They are alive," he whispered back. He turned her hand over and kissed her palm, trying hard but failing to prevent the tears from falling.

"Alive?" she asked in confusion.

"Yes, they are sending help. Tonight! You must hang on, my Shaila. For the girls. For me," he said, pleading with her.

"But I’m so tired, my Gurie… can’t I just sleep for a while?"

An icy knot of fear filled Gurprit and he prayed that help would arrive soon. "No, love. You can sleep later tonight, after you’ve talked to Padma and Parvati."

He could see her struggling to stay awake and made a quick decision. He began to sing softly to her. Her eyes came to rest on him. She always loved his voice. A small smile played about her lips and she watched as he sang. Gurprit knew he could hold her attention as long as he sang and he would sing all night if need be.

Padfoot Manor…

Harry was looking up at the night sky through the bedroom window when Hermione finally entered. The two had avoided each other during the day, but now they would have to confront each other and the gulf they had created.

She moved to stand next to him, but he surprised her by turning to her and pulling her into his embrace. They held each other for a long while, taking comfort from the presence of the other.

"I’m sorry, Hermione," he whispered.

"No, I should be more understanding, Harry," she replied quietly.

"I know you’re frightened. And I don’t know what I can do to ease that for you. Your father suggests that you and I get away for a day, or even for a few hours. I don’t know about you, but getting away, even if it’s just for few hours, sounds like a good idea," he said, his voice hopeful.

She nodded against him, tightening her grip.

"Please understand, Hermione. We’re at war. There will be times when you and I will be in danger. I know you can handle that, you’re one of the bravest people I know. But like it or not, people are looking to me to lead our side. Even Amelia is asking my advice on things like the government in exile. And sometimes I’ll have to send people into danger and they might not come back. I don’t like it, I don’t want the job, but they all seem to think I’m in charge," he said softly, then he led her over to two chairs and sat her down in one.

Hermione looked at him, her expression serious. "You are in charge, Harry. Everyone is here because of you and they look to you for guidance."

His expression grew pained. "Then please understand that, though I don’t like it, sometimes it will be necessary for me to send people into danger. Like tonight, when we’re safe and comfortable."

Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him. "What’s happening tonight?" she asked tensely.

"Miles told me about this earlier tonight. He normally stops by to tell me about the operations he’s running each night. Tonight, a team will be attempting to rescue the Patils," he said grimly.

Hermione’s gaze sharpened. She was closer to Padma than to Parvati, despite rooming with Parvati for nearly six years. The Patil twins and Lavender had been clinging to each other for support since the bomb. Lavender’s family had died in the blast and the Patils had thought their family was gone as well.

"An owl arrived today with a message from their mother. In it, she implied that she was dying and that her oldest daughter and husband were nearby."

"Poor Padma and Parvati," breathed Hermione.

Harry nodded. "The extraction team couldn’t get a precise fix, so they had to apparate to the area and then use an owl trace. Miles came to me for approval to make the extraction."

She inhaled sharply, hearing that. The use of the owl trace would be like lighting a beacon for Voldemort and his forces. The only hope was that his detection and capture squads would be busy elsewhere. She realized that Harry had deliberately approved a dangerous mission, putting the Patils and the extraction team in danger. He was clearly unhappy and uncomfortable with the decision. Her gaze softened as she realized that Harry would never be comfortable with sending someone into harms way. But he would do it anyway, because he must.

"Padma and Parvati must be going insane by now. Can we go to the receiving center? They should have friends nearby," she asked softly.

"It might be a long wait, but I was going to suggest just that," he replied with a small smile. Then the smile faded. "They won’t be coming to the receiving center. Considering the tone of the letter, it was decided they would go straight to the hospital."

Moments later, Hermione was grabbing warm cloaks for the walk to the Hospital while Harry informed Dobby where they were going.

Riddle Manor, Little Hangleton…

Voldemort looked out over the ranks of assembled Death Eaters. They were just climbing to their feet, some of them weeping, most clutching at their arms. The mass marking of so many people was tiring and Voldemort slumped down on the chair Lucius had set up for him.

Another group of Death Eaters stepped up and began to pass out the robes and masks needed to complete their entry into his service. One by one, the newly marked Death Eaters were presented with a muggle, who they had to kill, although some were occasionally encouraged to rape the prettier ones first. Once done, the new recruits where brought before Voldemort, where they bowed down in respect and allegiance. Those few who refused to kill were immediately killed themselves.

After all, one did not refuse to serve the Dark Lord, not after being marked as his own.

As the induction ceremony wound down, Lucius stepped up next to Voldemort’s chair. He understood how tired his master was, so he ran the ceremony once the marking was complete.

Bowing before Voldemort, he turned to the crowd and cast the Sonorous spell on himself.

"I need the twenty recruits who have volunteered to return to Ireland up here now!" he barked, his voice rolling over the group and echoing against the hills.

Nineteen men slowly made their way up to the raised platform, their fear obvious. Lucius performed a quick head count. "Where’s the missing man?" he snarled.

"He’s dead. Didn’t pass the last test," said one in thick Irish accent.

Lucius grunted in acknowledgement, then handed the men a long rope. "Take this, every man grab on. It’s a portkey that will take you to our Irish base. When you arrive, tell Antonin that he is to send twenty men back immediately."

The group gathered around to take a grip on the length of rope. When everyone had a hold of it, Lucius tapped the rope and the group of nineteen men vanished from sight.

Lucius turned to see Voldemort nodding approvingly. In his mind, he turned to the next task he had to accomplish for his master this evening. He stepped up to the platform and was about to consult the list of cell leaders to assign the new Death Eaters to when a shout interrupted him.

Whirling around, he saw that the men he had just sent off by portkey had reappeared! The nineteen men looked shocked and surprised. Then all nineteen exploded in a soundless blast of blood, bone and flesh. Dozens of new Death Eaters ducked for cover, trying to avoid the gore raining down upon them.

Lucius paled and looked fearfully at Voldemort, whose finest robes were awash in blood and bits of brain.

Voldemort’s expression darkened and he stood, enraged. In the midst of the slowly thinning puddle where the Death Eaters stood, the air took on a shimmering quality as it began to lighten.

The shimmering started to move faster as it grew lighter and slowly a form coalesced in the center of the whirling vortex. Voldemort reeled back into his chair, shock, as he recognized the figure

"Potter!" he snarled.

The image of Harry Potter glanced around with a smirk. "Hey there! I do hope someone is here to pass the message along to the half blood bastard known as Voldemort. If not, he’ll find out sooner or later," it said with a shrug. This was clearly a recorded message.

"Anyway, I expect right about now you’re probably knee deep in pureblood guts and other bloody bits. I hope you enjoyed the show." Harry said conversationally, then he appeared to sit down. "Now comes the bad news, which I want to you pass to old snake face. Tell the scaly, lipless bastard that I’m revoking his passport. Yep, I’m locking you in, Tom Marvolo Riddle. The international Wizarding community has decided that you are far too ugly to be allowed to travel outside of Britain and Scotland, and so are your band of merry morons.

"Oh, and don’t get to comfortable, Tommy. As soon as I’m allowed, I’ll be coming for you," said the image, then it faded from sight.

Lucius cringed and turned to look at Voldemort.

The evil wizard stood in a murderous rage. His eyes flamed balefully and, glancing at Lucius, his nostrils flared. "Continue with the service, Lucius. I will return home," he said in a steely tone, then he apparated away with a crack that deafened everyone with fifty feet of the platform.

Lucius sighed in relief and tried to steady his shaking hands before he turned to continue the service as instructed.

Haven Hospital…

Harry and Hermione walked peacefully from the manor. It was a short walk to the hospital and now, thanks to the numerous house elves, the road between the town and the Manor house was clearly marked, even at night. Harry place an arm around Hermione’s waist and the two walked slowly up the road. He leaned on his staff a bit. It had been a long day and his leg was slowing him down some.

A few times along the way he’d stop to kiss her. The evening was cool and comfortable, and there was no need for conversation between them. Hermione could easily convince herself that they were off to a neighbor’s house for a spot of tea, rather than going to comfort friends who might be in for the worst night of their lives.

Halfway to the hospital Harry stumbled, then he whirled so he was facing east. He lifted his staff high above his head and Hermione staggered back from him as power rolling off him in waves. The crystal end cap of his staff burst into brilliant light, throwing back the night.

She watched as he stood immobile for about two minutes, then the light faded and he quickly brought his staff down and leaned against it. He was breathing heavily as if he had just finished a marathon.

"Harry?"

"Sorry," he panted. "The line has finally been breeched. I had to send a message."

She looked at him curiously, though he could clearly see the questions in her eyes.

"I told him that he’s been denied a passport and international travel rights due to his extreme ugliness. Old Tommy boy, having no sense of humor whatsoever, is currently having a temper tantrum over the issue. If we’re lucky, he’ll kill a few of his minions," Harry replied.

She gasped, then giggled. "You didn’t! Did you?"

He nodded, and then turned back towards the road. "Come on, sweetheart, let’s get to the hospital."

Hermione couldn’t help but notice how much Harry was leaning on his cane after his display of power. Fortunately for the two of them, the hospital was just a short walk up the road.

Harry led Hermione into the small emergency room waiting area, where they spotted Padma, Parvati and Lavender waiting together. Minerva and Professor Flitwick sat a few chairs away and looked to be marking homework.

Hermione made a beeline for the three girls, while Harry went to the nearest chair and sank down with a sigh of relief. He stretched out his leg and bent down to knead the knotted muscles. A healer stepped out of a backroom to see who had entered.

He came over to Harry. "Is there a problem with your leg?"

Harry looked up at the healer. "It will be all right. I’ve been over extending myself again," he said with some degree of exasperation.

"Lord Potter?" gasped the healer.

Harry looked embarrassed. "Yes, but it’s just Harry, please."

"Can I help you with that?" asked the healer, gesturing to his leg.

"Not really, no. As I said, it will be all right. I’m here waiting with my friends," he replied, motioning to Hermione and the others.

"Ah, the extraction team. Very well, my Lord. If you need something, please don’t hesitate to ask."

He nodded and the healer went back to a nursing station.

Harry levered himself to his feet and hobbled over to where Padma and Parvati sat. All four girls smiled up at him as he lowered himself into a chair.

"Harry," began Parvati, "this past year at school… well, we… that is, I believed…"

Harry held up a hand to stop the Gryffindor. "Please don’t say it, Parvati. There was no way for you to really know what was going on, and there was no convincing way I could tell you the truth without revealing things I couldn’t reveal. Right now let’s concentrate on reuniting you with your family, alright?"

Parvati looked at Hermione for a moment, then she smiled impishly. "Hermione, forgive me this once." Then Parvati leaned over to Harry and, before he could say or do a thing, she grabbed him and kissed him as hard as she could. When she leaned back in her seat, she looked at Hermione. "You’re one lucky witch," she said with a sigh.

Hermione’s smile was all teeth and she resisted the temptation to scratch Parvati’s eyes out. Harry looked shocked. Minerva coughed from her seat and gave her Gryffindors a stern glance.

Harry hadn’t responded to Parvati’s kiss, of course. He shook his head slightly and smiled at Hermione, who then relaxed somewhat.

A small chime echoed through the room.

The healer at the nursing station looked up and several others entered from a back room. They went to stand just outside a roped off receiving area.

Brighton Beach, England…

Tripuri saw the group of shadows move closer. She had spotted them as they began to work their way up the street. She held her wand in one badly shaking hand. They moved from one covered position to another, which made Tripuri even more nervous. She was a healer, not a fighter! How do Padma and Parvati know these men, she wondered. She froze as one of them paused in front of the store and then knelt by the locked door.

The man fiddled with the door for a moment, then she squeaked and backed up slightly as the man pushed it open.

"W-W-What’s the password?" she said in a tremulous voice.

"There is a Haven for all of us," hissed the man. "Now, put that wand away before you accidentally cast something!"

The man pushed the door open wider and motioned to the rest of the group. Three of them came in and took up positions near the front of the store, scanning the street. The man who had opened the door led another over to speak to Tripuri.

"Patil? Which one are you?"

"T-T-Tripuri," she stammered.

The man nodded. "Yes, the healer. And your mother, she’s ill?"

"Yes! Yes! She has several bad spell wounds and I couldn’t heal her."

The two men exchanged a glance, then one nodded to the other. The second man grabbed Tripuri gently by the arm. "Take me to her. I am a healer and I have potions with me."

Tripuri nearly sobbed in relief as she pulled the healer into the back room.

The team leader watched them go for a moment, and then joined his second in command, crouching down and watching the street.

"We’ll be ready to move as soon as the Doc says we can, but I’ll try to move it along. Keep watch and holler if company comes to call."

The man nodded and the team leader moved to the back of the building. Inside the small storeroom, he found an incongruous sight. The two healers hovering over a small, dark skinned woman with lightly graying hair. A small, dark skinned man was singing to her in a soft tone.

"Doc? Time?" he hissed.

The healer looked up at him. "I need to stabilize her. She’s very weak. Five minutes at least."

The leader started to nod when he heard a low whistle. "I don’t think we have five minutes, Doc. Do what you can, but get them out of here soonest! We have company coming."

Nodding the healer pulled a prepared syringe out of his bag and plunged it into Shaila’s thigh. "It’s an energy potion laced with dragon’s blood. It will give her energy, but we’ll have to watch her when she comes down from it," he murmured to Tripuri. Then he pulled out a small rope and he passed the end to her.

"Portkey. Everyone take hold,"

From the front of the store came a shout, then the sound of multiple spells being cast, including several explosive hexes.

The healer saw that everyone had a hold of the rope. He grabbed Shaila’s hand and activated the portkey. There was a loud whistle to alert the rest of the team that he was leaving and then they were gone.

Out in the front room, bedlam ensued. Two capture squads had apparated onto the street. The flare of magic from Doc’s wand was sufficient to point out exactly where they were hiding. In moments, the two groups of Death Eaters fanned out and opened fire on the storefront.

The team leader was just coming from the storeroom when the front of the building exploded and his number three man went down hard. He dived over a counter and rolled until he was close enough to pull his man out of the line of fire. With that done, he joined in with his own people, firing back at the Death Eaters.

They say time dilates or compresses, depending on circumstance. For the men of the extraction team, time seemed to slow, becoming an unending battle of curse and counter curse. It seemed as if hours had passed before they heard the sharp whistle coming from the back room. In truth, it had been little more than sixty seconds.

The team leader wasted no time. He pulled a short silver whistle from under his shirt and gave three short blasts on it. Then he pulled his injured man close to him and watched as the rest of the team portkeyed away before activating his own.

Haven Hospital…

Harry watched with interest as the Patils arrived. He approached the roped off area and stood to one side, watching as a healer and two medi-witches moved Mrs. Patil to a floating stretcher, while another healer pumped her full of potions via syringe. The team medic dispassionately explained what she had done in field. It struck Harry as some sort of choreographed ballet as they smoothly moved the patient from the receiving area and out through the doors.

Gurprit and Tripuri moved to follow, but were intercepted by Padma and Parvati, both of whom were weeping with joy. The remaining healer motioned for the four of them to go to the seats where they could rest. He told them that he’d check them out and get them something to eat in a moment. Then another chime echoed through the room and the healer looked up in surprise and worry.

He moved over to stand near Harry. "Something must have happened to the extraction team," he muttered.

Before Harry could reply, two men appeared in the area. One seemed fine, but the other was obviously suffering from curse damage as he leaned over to vomit. A second later two more men appeared, one holding the other.

The team leader struggled to lower his man gently to the floor.

"Oh, Merlin," breathed the healer, and then he rushed forward to examine the man. "I need help here," he yelled a moment later, hoping to attract some of his colleagues as he began pulling bandages and potions off a nearby cart.

"Tell me what to do," urged Harry, dropping his staff to one side.

The healer glanced at him, then thrust a bandage into his hands. "Place this on that leg wound and press down as hard as you can. He’s got multiple major bleeders that we have to stop."

Harry grabbed the bandage, placed it over the man’s leg and pushed down hard. The bandaged instantly turned red with blood. The healer worked frantically on his patient, stemming the flow of blood from a neck wound, then working on a chest wound. A moment later, two medi-witches burst through the doors from the back and came to his aid. One of them gently pushed Harry out of the way.

Another witch conjured a stretcher and they moved him into the back room. Harry stood, watching them move out of sight, and then he looked down to see his hands covered in blood. His pants were soaked through.

He looked bewildered and unsure, staring at his hands. Hermione had been concentrating on the Patils and hadn’t paid much attention to the second arrival until they were already moving back to the treatment rooms. She turned to see Harry staring at his blood covered hands and she gasped.

Minerva glanced up and frowned at Harry. She put aside her marking and joined him, casting cleansing charms on him as she approached. Seeing his pale complexion, she put one arm around him, led him to a chair and sat down beside him.

He kept glancing at the doors, then to his hands, as if he expected them to be covered in blood again.

"Harry," she said gently, "are you alright?"

His brow furrowed in confusion and shook his head. "I’m not sure, Professor. I don’t know what I should be feeling right now."

He looked up as the doors opened again and the leader of the extraction team walked out, his expression grim. His eyes flared in recognition as he saw Harry and he walked over join him and Minerva.

"I want to thank you, my lord. You tried to help Willie, but he was just too badly injured," the man said quietly.

Harry jerked and his hands shook.

The man placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder. "Willie knew the risks, sir. We all do. We take the risks because it’s the right thing to do. Look," he said, pointing to the Patils. "It was the right thing to do and Willie would have wanted to go out doing the right thing."

Harry understood. The man had died fighting for what he believed in. Fighting for the right to be free and to live the way he wanted. There could be no more noble a sacrifice. His loss was great, but his life and his death held a deep meaning for Harry.

"D-D-Did Willie have a family?"

"Aye, that he did. But don’t you worry about them. We take care of our own."

"What is your name, sir?" asked Harry. The man exuded a confidence that he found appealing.

"Caleb Newman, sir."

"Thank you, Caleb. Please let me know if Willie’s family needs anything… and I mean anything. You and your team did us proud tonight."

Caleb stood a little taller and he nodded. Excusing himself, he joined his remaining teammates.

Harry smiled weakly at Minerva, then summoned his staff and limped over to Hermione.

She looked at him and chewed slightly at her lower lip. He shook his head to her unasked question. Her expression matched his own. They leaned against each other then, drawing comfort, one from the other. When he finally released her, he wore a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Giving her hand one last squeeze, he walked towards the Patil family.

Padma and Parvati were standing close to their father and their older sister. Lavender stood to one side, looking at them wistfully. He stepped up to the four, nodding to the twins. The man looked over at Harry curiously.

"Papa," said Padma, "this is Harry Potter. He’s the one responsible for getting all of us out of Britain and bringing us back together."

Gurprit looked surprised then he grinned broadly and grabbed Harry’s hand, shaking it. Harry nodded and smiled at the older man, but he couldn’t help but notice that Lavender was hovering along the edge of the group.

Everyone was babbling as questions were hurled back and forth. When Harry managed to catch Gurprit’s eye, he motioned him off to the side. He led the older man over to the nursing station. The healer took one look at the expression on Harry’s face and decided to find something else to do.

Harry motioned for the older man to sit, then smiled reassuringly at him. "Mr. Patil, first off, I don’t want to alarm you, as you and your family are more than welcome here in Haven, but I would like to talk to you about another situation. One that you might be able to help me with."

"Oh?" asked Gurprit warily.

"Yes, sir. While you and your family were missing, your daughters, and their friend, Lavender Brown, relied on each other for comfort and support. Your daughters treated Lavender as if she was another sister, and she treated them the same. Unfortunately, Lavender’s family lived in Amesbury."

Gurprit’s eyes widened in understanding. "I know Lavender, Mr. Potter. She’s a good girl…"

He stopped when a healer stepped into the room and looked expectantly at him. Harry smiled and motioned for him to go speak to the healer.

"Mr. Patil, your wife is resting comfortably and is out of danger. We will be keeping her here in the hospital for several more days. You and your family will be able to see her in a few minutes, but only for a short time," said the healer with a broad smile.

Tripuri and the twins ran to their father, hugging him in relief. Gurprit looked at Harry for a moment, winked at him, and then turned to smile gently at Lavender.

"Lavender? Come, my daughter. We will go see Shaila together," he said, holding out his hand.

Lavender looked dumbstruck. When Parvati embraced her, she broke down and wept on her shoulder. Another set of arms appeared as Gurprit embrace them both.

Harry watched the newly enlarged family for a moment. Then, for the first time since the rescue, his smile reached his eyes. He was turning to join Hermione when Lavender stopped him. She embraced him, kissed his cheek and whispered her gratitude before rushing back to her family.

When he faced Hermione, Minerva and Filius, they were all grinning at him. Hermione moved to his side and kissed his cheek.

"Well done, Harry," exclaimed Filius. Minerva nodded approvingly.

"We’re apparating back to the Manor, Harry. I know how badly your leg’s hurting," Hermione told him.

He didn’t argue. "Good night, Professors," he said, and then vanished, taking Hermione with him.

Filius blinked and looked at Minerva. "I thought there were anti-apparation wards at the hospital?" he asked.

"There are, Filius, but he’s Harry," she said, shrugging

"Oh. Well that explains it," said the little professor with a chuckle.

Padfoot Manor…

Harry apparated them both to their bedroom and he went into the bathroom for hot soak. Hermione watched him with a worried expression. She fully expected him to be very upset once they got to home and were alone.

After his bath, he came out and borrowed her Book Bag of Requirement to find something to read. He then sat at the table they normally ate breakfast on, paging through the book.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you all right? You seem… different… after tonight," she said hesitantly.

Harry closed the book and looked out the window and over the darkened lawn for a while without saying anything. She was about to stand up and go to him when he began to speak.

"All my life my hands have been bathed in someone else’s blood. All my life, Hermione. My Parents, Cedric, Sirius, Aurors and Order Members whose names I don’t even know. Tonight… tonight my hands were covered with the blood of that extraction team member, and you know what? I finally realized that I wasn’t the one bathing my hands in blood. No, it’s Voldemort. Oh, I played a role in what happened to Willie tonight and must be burdened with some of the guilt, but the bulk of it belongs to Voldemort."

He stood then and walked to the window. Gazing out into the darkness, he shook his head. "No, most of this is Voldemort’s fault…and his Death Eaters."

"What will you do?" she asked, fearful of his answer. She had expected tears, anger or rage, anything but this strange calm.

Harry turned to face her and she was struck by his appearance. This wasn’t Harry, a sixth year wizard and sometime Quidditch player. This was Harry, leader of Haven. He smiled gently at her.

"I’ll honor Willie and those like him. I’ll make sure that the sacrifice he made tonight wasn’t made in vain and that his family is cared for. And because of him, I’ll redouble my efforts to win. I owe it to him and all those like him."

"How can you be so calm? A man practically died in your arms tonight." Hermione asked.

"I’m calm because I’m blessed with a strong woman who gives me strength. To the outside world, I have to appear to be made of stone… firm and unyielding. You know differently. I don’t have to pretend to be something I’m not for you," he replied softly.

Hermione walked up behind him and wrapped her arms around him. "I know you, Harry Potter. I may not know all about you, but I intend to learn. This much I do know, however. It’s time for you to stop being firm and unyielding."

Harry’s tears had started as soon as she’d wrapped her arms around him. But even through his tears, he managed to smile at her comments. She knew him better than she thought.

Authors Notes:

How can we have notes when it's a new story?

Back to:: Harry Potter » Sunrise Over Britain

Sunrise Over Britain
Chapter 1 - Beginnings

By Bobmin

Sunrise Over Britain Chapter 1 - Beginnings

By Bobmin

Sunrise Over Britain
Chapter 1 - Beginnings