Sunrise Over Britain :: Chapter 23

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Voldemort walked onto the stage and tapped the microphone hesitantly. "Is this thing on?" he called.

"Boo! Down in front! Get off the stage you bum!" shouted random audience person number six.

Voldemort narrowed his eyes and he thrust out his wand. "Avada Kedavra!" he shouted, killing random audience person number six.

Voldemort smiled. "I always feel better after allowing myself to express my anger in creative ways," he said into the microphone, then his expression sobered.

"Before we can begin this session of Sunrise Idol, the authors have asked me to tell you that they do not own Harry Potter. If they did, he'd be American and have really cool powers and a big chested girlfriend. But no, this is all owned by some British lady, which explains a lot. Anyway they don't own anything," he said, then he paused and looked around hoping someone would say something so he could kill them.

Seeing he wasn't going to get his wish, he sighed. "Oh very well, and now Sunrise Idol!"

"WAIT!" shouted Alyx and she rushed out onto the stage. She grabbed the microphone from Voldemort.

"I'm sorry, but I refuse to let my story be taken over by a stuck up like Simon Cowl. Get outa here Voldy or you'll regret it!" she snarled.

Voldemort fingered his wand and eyed Alyx.

She smirked at him. "Try it buster and I'll have you dancing in pig tails and a sun dress while singing tiptoe through the tulips next chapter."

Voldemort blanched. "Maybe another time," he said, then he reached for his portkey. There was a whooshing sound and Voldemort tore himself into two pieces. The audience gasped and started to laugh.

Harry dropped the invisibility cloak, revealing himself and a chain attached to a large concrete block and to Voldemort's leg.

"Anti-Portkey ward on the block," Harry said with a grin. The audience cheered and Alyx trudged off the stage wondering if she'd ever get a normal disclaimer in this story.

"Probably not," snickered Bob.

Sunrise Over Britain
Chapter 23

Stonewall Lane, Dublin, (Jan 12th)...

Marne Murphy looked up from the report on drug distribution. She had inherited the business from her late lover, literally. He had died from causes that most suspect stemmed from Ms. Murphy. Those too vocal in their suspicions joined the late drug boss in his grave. The rest realized that Ms. Murphy was an rising star on the drug scene in Ireland and threw their lot in with her.

Ms. Murphy owned a string of apothecaries throughout Ireland and from the outside they appeared to be legitimate businesses. They were, in fact, a front for her drug distribution business as well as real apothecaries.

She had been investigated by the Irish openly, as well as discretely, on several occasions and they had been unable to find anything to pin on her. But times were changing.

With the turmoil across the Irish sea, she had gotten sloppy, allowing herself to be pulled into supporting the illegal regime in Britain. By supporting Voldemort she had exposed her organization and for the first time people were finding out things she wanted kept hidden.

She looked up from the report and reached for her wand when a knock came at the door. "Come," she called

The door opened to reveal a tall, broad man with a heavy limp. His left hand was heavily scarred by fire and nearly useless to him.

"Lugo, what have you learned?" she asked.

"Ms. Murphy, the buzz at the Ministry is all about a secret investigation led by a team of Unspeakables. I can't say with any certainty, but I think we may have a problem."

Murphy drummed her fingers against the desk while she thought about the problem. She grimaced and looked back at the man. "What do you think, Lugo?" she asked. She had grown up with the man. To her, he was more of a big brother and protector than her chief enforcer.

The older man grunted. "I think we made a mistake when we got involved with those people in Haven. We're exposed now."

Murphy looked at him sharply and he raised a hand as if warding off a blow.

"Don't give me that look, Marne. You know I agree with what you're doing, and I agree with supporting our Lord. The screw up was in how we got involved in Haven," Lugo offered in a conciliatory tone.

Murphy frowned and her shoulders sagged a little. "Yes, I think you're right. We're normally much more circumspect, but we were rushed in supporting our friends in Haven. What do you suggest?"

Lugo walked over to a small bar in the corner and poured himself a drink. He gestured to an empty glass and Murphy shook her head. She kept the bar in the office for him and when she occasionally wanted to entertain visitors. Her tastes, however, were more primal and couldn't be satisfied with liquor.

"I think we need to erase the evidence of our involvement in Haven," Lugo offered, then sipped from his glass.

"That won't be easy. Before I can do that, I'll need to get permission from Lord Malfoy," she replied with a shake of her head.

"Well, you better think about it. If the Ministry is getting close to us, Lord Malfoy could lose a major source of income and supplies over a pet project that doesn't seem to be working."

"I'll write him immediately and point that out. The Haven project hasn't been a total failure, but it certainly hasn't been as successful as we hoped. In the meantime, make sure all the escape routes are still open and active. If we have to go to ground, I want it to be done quickly."

Lugo downed his drink. "I'll do that right now," he said. Placing the empty glass on the bar, he walked from the room.

Murphy watched him for a moment, then pulled a clean piece of parchment from a drawer in her desk. She had learned to trust Lugo's sense of survival and he was right. They were exposed now, and Lord Malfoy had to be told.

Padfoot Manor...

Harry stood and walked over to the window, stretching. He chuckled to himself. The morning briefing had just ended and Amelia had told them that Amhar and his cronies were still in disarray after the session with Luna.

He had counted on Luna and she had come through beautifully. Most people were confused by her. She looked younger than she was and her responses under questioning had thoroughly confused the committee. When Amhar had tried to take Fuzz from her, she had allowed her power to shine through. The committee had not met since then and Harry had learned that Trenton Largo had suggested closing it down altogether.

"What has you chortling to yourself?"

Harry turned and smiled at Hermione. She had stopped detailing her notes from the briefing and was looking at him curiously.

"Luna," he replied with a grin.

"Oh? Should I be jealous?" she asked, her eyes dancing merrily.

Harry shook his head. "Hardly. I like Luna a lot, but not in that way. There are times when she makes me want to grind my teeth and my hands itch to wrap around her neck. And she doesn't bother me nearly as much as she bothers you. I'm just laughing because of what she's done. I knew that she'd have the effect of throwing dear Councilor Coeur de Lion and his committee into total disarray.

"I've read the transcripts from that particular meeting and Trenton Largo allowed me to view his pensieve memory of the meeting. She literally scared them silly at the end of it."

"Well, what can you expect? She's a Child of Gaia, after all," Hermione replied.

Harry returned to his desk and sat down, looking pensive. "That's what caught them by surprise, my heart. Every one of us derives our power from inside our bodies," he replied, thumping his chest. "Luna is different and people don't seem to understand what she can do. She has her own source of power, like the rest of us, but she's a representative of a higher power. When the conditions are right, she can literally tap into the forces of nature.

"She's more of a Celtic High Priestess, representing one of the Elder Gods, than a witch," Harry said, then he trailed off into silence.

"Yes, well, at least she's gotten that committee off our backs for a while," Hermione murmured with a slight frown. Mention of Elder Gods always made her a bit nervous. To her, the whole concept seemed vaguely HP Lovecraft-ish.

"Just for a while, love. Amhar is off balance, but his type never stays that way for long. When he's ready, he'll bounce back with a vengeance."

She frowned. "How much longer do you think we'll have to put up with him?"

Harry smiled thinly. "He's just an annoyance at the moment. He really hasn't done anything to interfere with the war effort yet. Amelia is right, though. The fool has frozen the Wizengamot because of that committee of his. Had he been smart, he would have pressed for an open, full body investigation, rather than a closed committee. Merlin! Listen to me! I'm starting to sound like Neville, spouting off all this political stuff." He shook his head ruefully and smiled weakly at Hermione. He hated politics and hated the fact that he had to deal with it.

He looked down at the parchments on his desk, then back up to Hermione. "Did you see your father yesterday? He's as uncomfortable as you are on a broom, but he loves that flying carpet the Sheik sent us."

Hermione placed her stack of parchments down in front of her and turned to stare pointedly at him. "You're not going to let me live that down, are you? You know I don't like heights."

"Yes, but I didn't know where you got it from. According to your mother, you don't seem to mind flying in muggle airplanes."

She made a face and he laughed at her expression.

"But seriously, how will you be able to join in family Quidditch games if you're afraid to fly?"

"Hah! I'll watch, and provide healing for the children. You, on the other hand, I think I'll let bleed," she said haughtily.

He laughed and reached out to caress her mentally. They both loved this sort of gentle teasing.

Hogwarts Castle...

The doors to the Great Hall swung open and Mulciber entered the large room. He paused for a moment to take in the view. The Dark Lord sat on his throne on the far end of the room and was conversing with the leader of the Iron Wand tong. The man was ancient compared to Voldemort and he knew an obscure branch of Chinese magic that excelled in interrogation and torture. That interested Voldemort.

He slowly approached the throne, waiting for his master to acknowledge his presence.

Voldemort looked up and noticed Mulciber. He motioned for him to approach, while the Iron Tong leader stepped back a few steps.

"Well, Mulciber?"

"My lord, the prisoner Snape is requesting your presence when possible. He sends a message stating that he thinks he has a solution to one of the problems you asked him to research."

Voldemort looked bored and Mulciber began to sweat a little.

"Also, my lord, we have confirmed from several sources that the reports of Dumbledore's death are true. According to the Haven newspaper, he led an assault on Potter's home using Bulgarian mercenaries. The attack failed, resulting in his death and that of most of his men."

Voldemort leaned back and considered the matter. "Have Lucius contact our friends in the French Ministry. I think it would be to our advantage if they lodged an official complaint over the death of the leader of the light," he said with a chuckle.

A wave of laughter ran through the assembled group of Death Eaters. Using the death of an enemy to their advantage fitted their peculiar brand of humor.

Voldemort smiled at his servants. The French are useful pawns. In their bid to demonstrate their independence, they've played right into my hands, he thought gleefully. I will use them to disrupt and confuse my enemies.

Turning to other matters, the Dark Lord dug through a pile of parchments and pulled one out to hand to Mulciber. "This contains a list of books that Brother Chung and I want, Mulciber. You will obtain them for me."

Mulciber winced inwardly hearing the leader of the Iron Wand addressed as 'Brother'. That meant that, at least for now, he was giving the man status higher than even Mulciber's.

Horatio took the list and bowed. "I will do as you command, my Lord," he murmured.

Voldemort sneered at his minion and Mulciber backed away from the throne.

Far below the Great Hall, in the chamber of secrets, the ghost of Penelope Clearwater appeared and conversed with the Bloody Baron for a few minutes. The Baron then turned to Sir Nicholas. "Find Peeves. We need to send for Lord Potter and he is the only one that can do it."

Sir Nicholas gave the Baron a courtly bow and faded from view, leaving the elder ghost chuckling at the Gryffindor's antics.

Haven Operations Center, Q Branch (Jan 13th)...

Arthur Weasley walked into the large work area run by his sons. He was inordinately proud of his boys. They had turned their inventive genius from creating pranks to more serious matters when Harry and Draco asked them to help with the war. And in doing so, they had created devices that had saved lives many times over.

"DUCK!" someone shouted.

There was a blinding flash of light and Arthur staggered back as though he had been physically struck. He blinked rapidly and tears streamed down his face. Spots danced before his eyes just before his vision grayed out. Blind, he slid to the floor, his eyes burning painfully.

"What in blazes?" he yelled.

"Dad!" shouted one of his sons.

He heard the sound of running feet approaching, then someone skidding to a stop.

"Dad? Are you alright?" asked one of his boys.

Arthur knew his sons very well and could usually tell them apart by sight, but not by voice. He looked around blindly and grimaced when he began to feel ill. "Fred? What in the name of Merlin did you do?" he asked.

"It's George, Dad. We were testing our Sun Bangers; they're anti-vampire weapons," he said, then he paused and looked at his father with a frown. "I think we need to get you some help, Dad. You have a marvelous sunburn that's going to cause a lot of pain," he murmured.

Arthur winced. "Tell me about it," he muttered.

"OY! Freddo! Dad needs a healer!" he shouted.

Arthur heard the sound of furniture scrapping along the floor, then he felt two sets of arms steadying him.

"Easy, Mr. Weasley," said Inga. "We're going to get you into a chair. You've got a real nasty sunburn."

While Fred and George went into another room to make a floo call, Arthur let the two girls guide him to a chair and smiled. He had learned two days ago that his boys had proposed to the two muggle girls.

Inga applied a damp cloth to Arthur's face, gently covering his eyes. He shivered and began to feel nauseous as the impact of what had happened began to strike home.

"Easy, Mr. Weasley. Fred is trying to get a healer here. Just relax," Inga said softly.

Arthur nodded. Every exposed piece of skin felt like it was on fire. He could hear voices in the outer room, but he was hurting too much to care.

George slipped into the office and watched Fred for a moment. His brother was talking on a portable floo.

"Alright, just hurry," Fred said, then he snapped the floo closed, breaking the connection.

"How did Dad get into the room? I thought you sealed the door? And where's the healer?" asked George.

"A healer will be here shortly. The on duty healer is out with Commander Stanton's Raiders on a training exercise. I had to call over to the hospital to get them to send someone. As for the door, I guess I forgot," he said, embarrassed.

"George! It was your turn to set the security," complained Fred.

Helga, George's fiancÃ©e, watched the two silently.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry, I was just over excited about testing the Sun Banger," George replied, then he glanced towards the door that lead to the other room and their injured father. "I'm going in to be with Dad. It was my fault and I should apologize."

Fred nodded silently and watched him leave the room.

"I'm surprised you didn't yell at him more," Helga said softly.

Fred hung his head. "I couldn't. I probably would have made the same mistake if it were my turn for security. We've a tendency to make similar mistakes," he replied, then he looked up as the door to the corridor opened and Melinda McKinney ran in, carrying her potions bag.

"Where is he?" she said, panting.

Fred pointed to the other door and she rushed through it. Fred and Helga followed her a few minutes later.

Inside the large work area, Arthur lay stretched out on a cot that George had conjured, while Melinda worked on him.

"What happened to him?" she asked, examining the fiery redness of his pale skin worriedly.

"We were testing a weapon to use against Vampires," George replied.

"And he walked in as it went off," Fred added.

Melinda ran a few tests and frowned. "Well, you've managed to give him sun poisoning. It's lucky you two weren't exposed, considering your complexion. I can treat it, but he's going to be uncomfortable for the rest of the day. His eyes will heal, but I have something which will stop them from hurting."

She cast a wide field numbing charm on Arthur, then set about applying a salve to his exposed skin. She was somewhat confused by her reaction. She and Arthur were becoming quite close, but she had never treated someone she loved before. Her trip from the hospital to the Operations Center was a blur. Her only thoughts had been of Arthur and the fear of losing him.

Arthur shifted slightly and sighed in relief as the combination of the numbing charm and the cool feeling of the salve made his skin feel better almost instantly. His eyes were damaged and he could barely see, but he had heard Melinda's comment about them. Reassured, he pushed down the thread of panic that had begun to take hold.

Melinda turned away from the twins and spoke softly to Arthur. Once he had calmed, she faced the boys again. "I don't know what you were testing, but it's dangerous. If you're going to use it in battle, we need to talk about it first. That can wait, however. Right now, you're going to help me get your father home where he can rest. He's going to need to be in bed for a couple of days while he heals."

She stood while Fred and George levitated Arthur onto a stretcher and hand carried him from their work area. They had often embarrassed people with their pranks, and some of the things they made they knew were lethal, but this was the first time anything they had made had hurt someone they loved.

Inga followed Melinda and the boys from the room. Helga waited a moment, then she pulled out a device that looked remarkably like a television remote controller and she pressed a button, which caused all the sconces in the room to go out. With the lights out, she pocketed the controller and walked from the room, locking the door behind her.

In one corner of the darkened room, a cabinet suddenly glowed and a muffled scream echoed off the walls. Amy had returned from her latest adventure.

Hogwarts Castle...

Snape looked up from the work bench when the door opened. His eyes widened and he immediately dropped to his knees upon seeing Voldemort enter the room.

"Master," he murmured, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the ground.

Voldemort eyed the man for a moment, then looked around. Off to one side of the room was a small desk, piled high with ancient looking books. The shelves were crammed with books, and a chalkboard was loaded with arithmantic equations.

"You asked to see me, Severus?" the Dark Lord asked, his eyes narrowed.

"Yes, Master. Might I show you what I have discovered?" he asked timidly.

There was a moment of silence. "Very well," came the sibilant reply.

Severus rose to his feet and walked swiftly to the shelf and pulled down a large book. Placing the book down on the work bench, he flipped it open to a marked page.

"This, Master, is an account of Grun One Hand. He was a wizard living in Scandinavia over a thousand years ago. The account explains, in vague terms, how a dark ritual resulted in Grun being unable to use his wand. The story mentions a tvileren, which he used as a replacement."

Voldemort looked at Snape for a moment, then glanced at the items on the table and motioned for him to continue.

"If I'm right, a tvileren, or scepter, would suffice as a replacement for your wand," Snape said, then he pointed at the items on the table. "I have been experimenting with foci for the scepter, and I have determined that in order for this to work, I'll need to use three foci to distribute your power across them."

Voldemort examined the items on the table for a moment. "Yes, I can see where that might work. What do you propose for the core materials? They would have to be powerful foci."

Snape lifted a small jar from the table. "A Wizard's heart string, freshly culled, the phoenix feather from your old wand, and... Begging your mercy, Master, but your blood would act as the third."

The Dark Lord's eyes widened and he hissed for a moment. "Explain yourself, Severus! Your life hangs in the balance."

Snape flinched. "The Wizard's heart string is even more powerful than a Dragon's heart string," he explained quickly. "It has long been forbidden by the Ministry, however. To own a wand using that core would earn a wizard the kiss.

"The core from your old wand comes from an ancient phoenix. Potter's old wand held a feather from the same phoenix, making the two wands brothers. But I know for a fact that he no longer uses that wand, so there is no issue of the wands locking up.

"Your blood is a powerful focus material. Including your blood in the scepter will add a powerful boost to the magic, especially if I cap the scepter with a bloodstone soaked in it. Using your blood will attune the scepter to you alone, Master. No one else would be able to use it. You could easily charm the scepter to make it lethal to anyone who might touch it."

Voldemort watched Snape carefully during the his explanation. Seeing no hint of subterfuge, he looked back at the table and its contents. "I take it you have all the materials at your disposal?"

"Most of it, Master. I'll need your old wand and some of your blood," Snape replied.

Voldemort gestured to one of the Death Eaters who had followed him into Snape's chambers. "You! Hold him under wand point. If he even attempts to cast while he holds my wand, kill him."

The Death Eater bowed low. "I will do as you command, my lord," he said, then he pulled his wand and pointed it at the back of Snape's head.

Snape repressed a shiver as the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Voldemort reached into the folds of his robe, extracted his wand and placed it on the table.

He pulled a small knife out of his pocket and carefully picked up the wand by the firing tip. Using the knife, he split the wand into two halves and extracted the feather. He placed the two wooden halves to one side, then opened a box that contained two halves of a very dark wood.

"Elder Mahogany, Master. It's very rare and hard to come by, but Mulciber was able to obtain a length for me. It is very powerful," Snape murmured. The wood had been split already, with a small hollow space running the length of the wood.

He placed the Mahogany halves on the table, then placed a small bowl and knife in front of Voldemort. "If you would, Master," he asked, pointing to the knife.

Voldemort scowled for a moment, then he picked up the knife and sliced his wrist over the bowl. The blood dripping into the basin was nearly black and steamed slightly in the chilly dungeon.

Snape watched for a moment, then he picked up the blood stone with a pair of tongs and placed it into the bowl. The stone sizzled and the blood started to boil around it. Next, he picked up a small brush and, dipping it into the blood, he painted both halves of the wood with it. When he had finished, he removed the stone from the bowl and poured the remaining blood into the hollow of each half of the scepter.

With the blood in place, Snape placed the phoenix feather into the small pool of blood. The blood and the feather glistened in the dim light and emitted an eerie green glow.

On top of the two foci he added a still dripping heart string from a captured witch he had killed earlier in the day. He watched closely as the foci seemed to meld together. Nodding to himself, he combined the two halves of the scepter and capped both ends.

Placing the scepter into a long stone basin on the table, he picked up a corked bottle of blue liquid and paused for a moment. Closing his eyes, he cast out a silent prayer to anyone who might hear. If this failed, it would mean his life.

With a quick motion, he uncorked the bottle and carefully poured the contents over the visible seam in the wood. The liquid hissed on contact and the wood smoked slightly, but the seam sealed perfectly.

With a relieved sigh, he used the tongs to turn the scepter over and repeated the process on the second seam.

Once the wood had stopped smoking, he picked it up and attached the bloodstone to one of the end caps, then put it down. A moment later, the scepter began to glow and Snape stepped back from the table.

"Master, you must complete the final step. You must claim the scepter as yours. It will fight for control, but you will overcome it," he said, looking down at his feet again.

Voldemort stared at him for a moment, then he stepped closer to the table and picked up the scepter.

The lights dimmed suddenly and the room rumbled ominously. The scepter vibrated wildly in the Dark Lord's hands as if it were struggling to break free. His red eyes widened as a wave of intense pain washed over him and he glared at the fighting scepter.

Voldemort made a snarling noise in the back of his throat. He recognized what was happening. The inclusion of his blood meant he had granted the scepter a piece of himself, much like his old diary. The scepter was as much Voldemort as he was and the two struggled for dominance. He felt the assault on his mental shields and he pushed out with all his might, pushing back at the presence in the scepter.

Snape stepped back in alarm as the air in the damp dungeon dried out and became heavy with static. Flickers of lightning surrounded Voldemort while he struggled. Snape watched in alarm and prayed that some of his more volatile potion ingredients didn't ignite.

As quickly as the struggle began, it ended and Voldemort staggered. The scepter suddenly stopped resisting and sparks fountained from the bloodstone. His eyes lit up with delight and he surveyed the room for a moment before he made his decision.

"Avada Kedavra," he whispered, pointing the scepter at one of his guards. A thick rope of green energy leapt from the bloodstone and hit the man square in the chest. The man fluoresced brightly, then seemed to collapse in on himself. Within seconds, all that was left was his robe, his wand and a smoking pile of ash.

Voldemort smiled cruelly at the results.

Seeing the Dark Lord's expression, Snape shivered in fear.

Voldemort examined the scepter closely now that he had successfully mastered it.

"Master, you can improve the scepter's performance if you carve runes into the wood," Snape offered.

The Dark Lord held the scepter up to the light, marveling at the way it seemed to pulsate in his hands, almost as if it were a living extension of himself. "Yes," he hissed sibilantly. "Runes for pain, control and death. I will consider it most carefully."

He then lowered the scepter and looked Snape directly in the eye. He sneered, sensing the fear in the Potions Master. "You have pleased me, Severus. I must think of a suitable reward for you," he said, then he turned and swept from the room, carrying his precious scepter in the crook of his arm.

Snape sagged with relief. It had been extremely close. He had come close to death many times in his life, but this had been especially trying. "Girl!" he snapped.

The door opened and his slave scurried into the room. She dropped to her knees in front of him and started to fumble with his pants. He shoved her away and she looked up at him in confusion. He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her up until she was standing on her toes.

"I bet you wish your family had allowed you to return to school for your seventh year, hmm? But their pathetic attempt to save you from the Dark Lord has condemned you. Had you returned, you would have been evacuated with the others." he said viciously.

When she only stared at him blankly, he yanked her head back. "Shall I tell you how your parents died, my pet? Your father was chained to the wall, and as your mother watched, his stomach was split open and his entrails spilled out. But he didn't die. They kept him alive for a time. And as he screamed, your mother was beaten and raped. Once the men had enjoyed her, Mulciber inserted the tip of his wand into her body and cast the Reductor curse. Your father died only moments later, covered in the resulting gore." Seeing the agony in her eyes, agony he had caused, he laughed.

With bared teeth, she kicked out at him. "The apple will avenge us!" she screamed. "I will make you a gift of it and the world will..."

Sneering at her obvious insanity, he punched her hard in the stomach, knocking the breath from her lungs. He spun her around and tore at the rags around her waist, exposing her ass to the cold dungeon air. Wrapping his hand once more in her long, dirty, black hair, he bent her over the table and fumbled with his robe.

The girl clenched her fists. Her parents were dead. Some part of her had always known that. But as the images from the Dark Man's descriptions played through her mind, she could only think that they were the lucky ones. Living had become a nightmare she could not wake up from, and death seemed a sweet, beckoning release. It would be a simple thing, but she couldn't go, not yet. Not while the Dark Man still lived.

In her madness, she thought of herself as an avenging spirit and never noticed when Snape entered her body, or the hard pinches and slaps he delivered as he used her for his own release. She would bring down the Dark Man, thereby weakening the Pale Creature. She would free not just herself from the darkness, but the world!

Parliament Building, London...

Lucius Malfoy placed the parchment down on his desk and leaned back, thinking. Murphy's letter was disturbing. The last thing he could afford to do was jeopardize her operations and the inflow of gold that came from it.

The operation involving the Haven members of the Wizengamot was his brainchild and he couldn't let what was, admittedly, a minor operation, interfere. The master would not be pleased if something happened to Murphy and her drug cartel.

He pulled a blank parchment out and started to write.

Marne,
Consider the Haven operation canceled. You are to do whatever it takes to protect your operation and keep the flow of gold and supplies coming to us.
Lucius

It was short and to the point, but it did exactly what it was supposed to do. He tied the parchment to an owl and it immediately took off.

With that problem now out of the way, he turned his attention to the issue of Dumbledore and the French. He sighed and glanced out the window. Running the country wasn't as much fun as he thought it would be. Oh, for the days when torturing a muggle was so much fun!

Three Scots, Aviemore, Scotland...

McHardy opened the door to his office and walked over to a cabinet. Opening it, he pulled out a bottle of twenty year old scotch and poured himself a double shot.

Thrawkmort's group had received their own orders the day after he had sent out Hanover on that extended patrol and McHardy had just come from reviewing the results of their efforts.

When McHardy and his men first located the underground facility they were using, it was small and poorly ventilated; just a couple of concrete storerooms left over from World War II. In the beginning, Alastor Moody had spent several days expanding and enhancing the damp rooms into something resembling a usable base of operations. But Thrawkmort's group had taken over the job from Moody, who was now somewhere to the south, leaving McHardy and Three Scots on their own.

Thrawkmort's men had added storerooms, bunk rooms and even an indoor vehicle garage with a hidden ramp. At first, he had thought that the garage was meant for vehicles his men captured. Today, however, he had learned the truth of the matter. A single crate, barely four feet long and a foot high, had been recovered from an air drop. The first of many supply drops to come.

McHardy had watched in awe as Thrawkmort and his men removed a dozen M1 Abrams tanks and expanded them to full size. The tanks would be used in a future, unspecified operation. Right now, command was prepositioning hardware. The crews would come along later. McHardy shook his head and wondered if the crews would be sent to him shrunk down and in a lunch box.

He sat at his desk and read over the dispatches he had received. Hanover reported he was near Kirkton, a small town southwest of Inverness. It had taken all of this time to get from Aviemore to Inverness before he could even begin to survey A82.

Hanover was using one of the new burst satellite radios. The information was recorded, encrypted and sent to an orbiting satellite, where it was relayed to Aviemore via the Americans. The information was sent via a high speed burst, making the radio nearly impossible to locate.

McHardy picked up another dispatch. This one detailed a schedule for arriving reinforcements. He was pleased to note the crews for the twelve tanks would be arriving via a more normal method. They would be delivered by two Pave Low helicopters near the latter part of the month. He cringed a little seeing that the same helicopters would be delivering enough munitions and fuel to allow the twelve tanks ten days of operation. That would mean Thrawkmort and more of this miniaturized supplies business. It just wasn't natural!

He frowned and thought about his men, then he scribbled a note to send back to command. He knew better, but he had dropped some hints to his men concerning a movie made by the American's in the sixties about shrinking down people and equipment. His men were eating up his tale and loving every minute of it and he wasn't about to do anything to change their mind. It was a peculiar piece of disinformation to use on your own people, but the truth was too unbelievable.

When it came to super technology and conspiracies, it seemed everyone was willing to believe that the American government was capable of building fantastic stuff and covering it up.

Weasley Cottage, Haven (Jan 16th)...

Holding her wand, Melinda scanned Arthur's body one last time, then smiled down at the tired man who sat on the bed. "That was the last one. I know kidney stones can be painful, but it's always best to let them pass naturally, when possible. Are you in any pain?"

"No," he said, grimacing. "The potion you gave me helped with the pain. It's just embarrassing, that's all."

She grinned. "It's not anything I haven't seen before."

"Perhaps, but I'm not in the habit of taking a piss in front of my lover. Or my healer, for that matter," he groused as he passed her the chamber pot.

Laughing, she took the pot from him and set it on the night table. Using her wand, she checked the urine and nodded. "There it is," she announced.

"For Merlin's sake, Melinda. Don't play with it!" he exclaimed.

"I'm not playing. It needs to be analyzed like the others. I'm sure it's just calcium, but it's better to be safe."

"The others? You did this with the others?"

"Yes," she told him as she maneuvered the stone into a sterile tube and sealed it. "Although you were unconscious for most of it."

"You drugged me?" he sputtered, shocked.

"Please. I'm a healer. I do not drug people, I medicate them." She held up tube, and using her wand, checked the makeup of the stone. "Just as I thought, it's mostly calcium. Vitamin D poisoning can be pretty nasty. You got off lightly, really. With the dose you received from that Sun Banger thing, you're lucky you didn't damage your kidneys."

"Yes, I suppose so," he replied absently, still mulling over the implications of being drugged. "Hold on a minute. If I was unconscious, how did I..." he trailed off and motioned towards the basin on the night stand.

She shrugged. "A little healer's trick. I used a charm to monitor your bladder. When it reached a certain level, a bell sounded and either I, or one of your children came in and... Ah, let's just say we helped you out. And as vitamin D poisoning can often cause constipation, and did in your case, we didn't have to deal with that particular bodily function." She grinned, impishly.

"Oh, gods," he moaned. "Melinda, a father is supposed to have some privacy from his children!"

"I suppose I could have asked a few of the healers at the hospital to help out," she said, thoughtfully.

He shuddered at the thought.

She shook her head and sighed in exasperation. "Arthur, I kept you unconscious for the first two days. The pain from kidney stones is horrible and I couldn't give you anything to relieve it. Those potions can't be mixed with the potions used to leech out the high concentrations of calcium in your blood. I could have removed the stones surgically, but the possibility of post-op infections and..."

"Fine, I get it," he interrupted. "It was necessary and I should stop whining about it."

"If it makes you feel any better, your children were too worried about you to be interested in anything else." She smiled at him. "They love you and would do anything for you."

"I know, and I love them, too." He looked up at her a bit sheepishly. "I know I'm being an ass, but..." He stopped suddenly and his eyes widened in horror. "Oh, gods, Ginny didn't...?"

She couldn't help it, she laughed. When he tried to stand up, she shook her head and pushed him back down, gently. "No, stay put. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have laughed. But your expression... Never mind." She did her best not to grin. "To answer your question, no, Ginny didn't. Your children decided that it would be 'unnatural' for her to help with that particular task."

Arthur slumped over slightly in relief. "That sounds like one of the twins."

"It was. Fred, I believe, with your other sons backing him up. To be truthful, Ginny looked a bit relieved by their decision."

"Well, that's something, anyway." He scowled at her. "So why did you have to help? Why couldn't the boys have taken care of it?"

"They weren't always available," she retorted, rather more sharply than she'd intended. "They do work, if you'll remember."

"Couldn't you have modified that damned charm of yours to notify them at work?"

"I suppose I could have. Excuse me for being too worried about you to think of it. Next time, I'll let you piss yourself!" Turning towards the night table, she picked up the chamber pot and stomped off to the bathroom, muttering to herself about ungrateful men.

Arthur mental kicked himself. It was obvious she was under a lot of stress, and here he was acting like a total ass. He sighed heavily and rubbed his face tiredly.

When she walked stiffly back into the room and placed the chamber pot on the floor beside the bed, he reached out, snagged her hand in his and pulled her over until she stood between his legs. She tried to tug her hand away, but he tightened his grip.

When she glared at him, he shook his head. "Melinda, please," he entreated.

Her anger crumbled. Her legs gave out and she sank to her knees. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she leaned her head against him. "I'm sorry, Arthur. When I got the call at the hospital, I was afraid I'd lost you. I've never had to deal with the care of a loved one as a healer. Generally, it's frowned upon, as it can be difficult to make logical choices when someone you love is in pain."

"And here I am, moaning over trivialities." He ran a hand through her hair gently. "I'm sorry, Melinda. I know it was hard on you, but I'm glad you didn't call in another healer."

"I wouldn't allow it." She pulled away from him, placed her hands on his thighs and looked up into his eyes. "I'll catch hell from Healer August over it, I'm sure. But I didn't trust anyone else. It's silly, I know, but..." She shrugged helplessly.

Running a thumb over her lips, he smiled softly. "Can you forgive me for acting like an idiot?"

"If you'll forgive me for getting so angry. There was no cause for it."

"Yes, there was, but as we've forgive each other, it doesn't matter." Bending down, he brushed her lips with his. When her hands squeezed his legs, he deepened the kiss.

She pulled away from him a few minutes later and shook her head. "If you keep that up much longer, we'll both be in bed, doing things your children shouldn't know about. And they're due home soon," she murmured.

"I'll ward the door," he said, reaching for his wand on the night table.

"Arthur, you've just passed a stone. Any sexual activity will have to wait," she told him laughingly.

He fell back on the bed with a groan. "How long?"

She stood up and looked down at him. "At least a week, Mr. Weasley."

"Merlin, you're killing me. I rarely get you alone and now you're telling me we can't. You're a cruel woman," he muttered, though his eyes danced merrily.

"It's just the pain relief potion talking. You wouldn't even be thinking about such a thing if not for its effects."

Snagging her hand once again, he pulled her down beside him on the bed and rolled over enough to gaze down on her. "Remind me later to send my thanks to the inventor," he murmured, then bit her lower lip gently.

"He's dead," she breathed, as she began to unbutton his shirt.

"What a pity," he gasped as she ran her hands over his bared chest.

The slamming of the front door jolted them back to their surroundings. When Arthur rolled away and sat up, Melinda sprang off the bed and pulled out her wand.

Moments later, the door was pushed open and Bill looked in. Seeing his father sitting on the side of the bed, dressed, but for an unbuttoned shirt, he smiled. "You must be feeling better," he said, walking into the room.

"I am, thanks to the lovely Healer McKinny," Arthur said, watching with dancing eyes as Melinda ran a series of diagnostic charms.

"He'll be fine," she confirmed, smiling at the oldest Weasley offspring. "But you'll have to watch him closely. He's pumped full of pain relieving potion at the moment and thinks he can do anything," she added primly.

Arthur's answer grin was a bit lascivious.

Bill looked at his father's unbuttoned shirt with new eyes. Grinning slyly, he looked between the two and raised an eyebrow. "Did I interrupt something?"

"Yes, actually," Arthur began.

With a quick flick of her wand, Melinda silenced him and turned to Bill. "No, nothing. Your father should be fine by tomorrow. He passed another stone today, but my scans indicate it was the last. His eyes have healed, the sunburn is fading and his calcium levels are back to normal." Her tone was clinical, but her blush was telling.

Arthur retrieved his wand and canceled the silencing spell. "Casting a silencing charm on a patient? Not very professional," he teased.

"I don't think she cast it on her patient, dad. In that instance, I think we can assume that she cast it on her lover before he could embarrass her in front of his son," Bill said, pretending to mull it over, while ignoring their thunderstruck expressions.

"Now, Bill," Arthur began seriously.

"I think I should be going," Melinda blurted.

Bill grinned. "I didn't mean to embarrass either of you. Really, I didn't. But you should know that your relationship isn't a secret. We've known about it for some time. It might relieve you to know that, though you don't need it, you have our approval.

"Now, I'm going to start dinner. Carry on, if you wish, thought you might want to ward the door," he teased as he walked out. "The twins are due home and they don't need to see that sort of thing."

When the door closed gently, Arthur and Melinda stared at each other for a moment.

"Well, that was interesting," Melinda said.

"Very," he replied as he captured her hand once more. "Ward the door, love."

Hogwarts (Jan 17th)...

"My Lord, Lucius Malfoy asks to speak with you," said a Death Eater.

Voldemort looked up from caressing his scepter. He had carved the runes on it, then he'd adorned the scepter with jewels and gold, making it a thing of obscene beauty. The bloodstone on the end pulsed malevolently whenever he picked up the scepter.

Now he sat on his throne in the Great Hall, cradling his scepter like a newborn babe.

"Send him in immediately," Voldemort uttered.

The Dark Lord had been practicing with his scepter and it showed. The walls were splattered with blood and worse.

Lucius walked briskly into the hall. He approached Voldemort, then he bowed deeply. "My Lord," he murmured.

"Lucius! Tell me what news do you bring?"

"We have word from our spy in Haven, my lord. She has managed to determine how many fighters they will be able to put into the field against us. She also tells us that Potter refused to aid a group of Germans who had visited us, but hadn't taken the mark. They fell ill crossing his line of death and eventually died while under the care of the French Ministry..."

The sound of something cracking and breaking echoed through the Great Hall.

Lucius paused suddenly and he looked at his master, horrified.

An egg slowly dripped down the sides of the Dark Lord's head and his eyes flashed angrily.

Lucius chewed on his lip to fight the urge to laugh, knowing it would be his death if he did so.

A high pitched laugh echoed through the large chamber. "HA! HA! The yolks on you, snakeface!" shouted Peeves.

Lucius' eyes widened. The track of the egg was clearly turning Voldemort's skin a bright orange color.

Peeves popped up from behind a Death Eater and lobbed another egg with perfect precision. Lucius took a step back as it splattered, spraying chunks of egg and shell. The Dark Lord's eyes burned red and he stood, glaring at the poltergeist.

Voldemort whipped up his scepter. "Reducto!" he snarled.

Peeves dodged and the curse hit one of the Death Eaters standing against the wall. The Death Eater screamed and exploded in a shower of blood and gore. When the air cleared, there was a foot deep hole in the wall.

Peeves flew up to the rafters and dodged in and out of the beams, while Voldemort tried to aim at him.

"Your father was a muggle," chortled Peeves, then he ducked in front of another Death Eater.

"Reducto!"

Peeves darted up to the rafters again and another Death Eater exploded in a shower of gore. The poltergeist pulled a bag out of his pocket and hurled it at Voldemort.

The bag hit Voldemort head on and exploded, covering him with flour.

"Flour, eggs, a snake cake we make!" laughed Peeves.

The Dark Lord roared and clubbed a Death Eater who'd moved into his path. The man fell to the floor, brains oozing from his ears. Voldemort wiped his eyes clear and raised his scepter.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" he shouted.

A thick rope of energy jumped from his scepter, striking Peeves in the center of his chest. Peeves screeched and fell to the floor with a meaty thump.

"You killed me! Oh, the agony! Oh, the irony! Oh, the pain!" moaned Peeves. Then he began to glow a bright green and his body seemed to break into pieces.

"I'm broken!" wailed Peeves. His head floated above the pieces for a moment, then everything started to fade.

Peeves took one final look around, then he winked at Malfoy and faded from view.

Lucius blanched and wondered if this was truly the last of they had seen of the dangerous poltergeist.

Voldemort cast a spell to clean himself, then he turned to glare at Lucius. A Death Eater stifled a laugh and then moaned in pain as a blade of Mordoc sunk into his chest. The man fell to the floor and started to scream.

"Think it is funny, do you? Enjoy one of my blades," Voldemort hissed at the man, then he turned to walk back to his throne.

The man's cries increased and he wrenched the blade from this chest. His back arched and his face contorted with pain and fear, then he sighed and collapsed back to the floor, dead. The blade slid from his lifeless fingers and Voldemort summoned it to his hand.

"Lucius," Voldemort snarled. "Continue with your report!"

Lucius scurried forward, thoroughly cowed by what he had just witnessed. The Dark Lord was now powerful enough to kill a poltergeist!

Office of the Minister, Haven (Jan 18th)...

"You asked to see me, Amelia?"

Amelia looked up and spotted Harry standing in the doorway. "Yes, Harry. Do come in, please. I'm afraid we have a bit of a problem."

"Oh? What did I do this time?" he replied and he closed the door and sat down.

Amelia smiled thinly. "I'm afraid you're closer than you can imagine, Harry. Our Department M in France is reporting some unsettling news this morning. As you are aware, the French were not pleased when we refused to treat those Germans they had in their custody. Eventually, all of them died. We've also identified at least twelve other's who managed to make it to Germany before falling ill and dying. Those Germans did not seek healer help, so we never knew about them until too late. And the German Ministry reports all twenty were members of a suspected pure blood society with violent tendencies.

"In any event, the French were upset about the death of the eight, and now with the death of Dumbledore, they are refusing to acknowledge Dumbledore's criminal status. They have laid the blame squarely at your feet and have charged you with murder."

Harry scowled furiously. "So now I'm a wanted criminal?"

Amelia shook her head. "Only in France, Harry. France is trying to get others to accept their warrant, but so far it's been rejected by every country they've approached. Their actions are muddying the waters and confusing things. I've spent half the morning explaining the situation to other Ambassadors so they can explain to their own Ministry's.

"Officially, His Majesty's Government categorically rejects the French action. I asked you here today to inform you that the Ministry rejects the French demands and we are seriously considering calling an Avalonian Council to address this. You are an official of the British Ministry, an Ambassador, and as such you carry diplomatic immunity."

Harry sighed and leaned back on his chair. He accepted a cup of tea from Amelia and thought about what she had told him. "If I understand this, then as long as I don't travel to France, I should have no problems, right?"

"That's essentially correct, but you need to be a little more careful than that. There may still be some countries that support France. We're monitoring that situation closely. In the meantime, I'd suggest staying close to home. The French will not do anything rash, like send one of their action teams to try to take you by force.

"The downside to this mess is that I had planned on asking you to accompany a delegation to the French Ministry. I had hoped that we could use your presence to sway the neutrals back to our side and perhaps topple the current administration. Now I'm afraid that option is closed to us."

"Send Neville," Harry said with a bit of a shrug.

Amelia looked at him questioningly.

"Look, Neville is a powerful wizard, a member of the Brotherhood, and more importantly, his Gran has been training him for his role in politics since he was knee high. If anyone is capable of handling the diplomatic stuff, it's Neville," he replied.

Amelia thought about it for a moment. "Yes, the Longbottoms have a history of Ministry service and politics. Neville would be a help on this particular mission."

Harry stood. "Good enough, Amelia. Shall I inform Neville that you need to speak with him?"

"Yes. Thank you, Harry," she said. When he left, she turned back to the papers on her desk.

Wizengamot Building, Office of Amhar Coeur de Lion...

"Your morning owl post, Councilor," said Dorothy, his new secretary.

Amhar frowned and accepted the large pile of mail from the dumpy old woman. When his last secretary quit, he had little luck finding someone to fill the role, especially at what he paid. Dorothy was incredibly efficient and about forty years older than he liked to hire on. While she was an expert in maintaining the office and keeping his schedule, she was nothing to look at.

"Thank you," he mumbled. For a brief second she looked at him like his mother used to and he shuddered. That look always made him feel a bit insignificant. He'd hated that look then, and he hated it now.

He flipped through his mail. It was mostly innocuous stuff, a few offers of bribes and the like. He stopped when he reached a particular letter, which he opened.

Dear Councilor,
It was a honor to see you again at the party last week, and while we appreciate the invitation to visit, our schedule simply does not permit it at this point.
Regards
Marne

Amhar laid the letter down on the desk and his hands trembled. The letter seemed innocent, but it basically told him that his connection to Murphy was being shut down. The letter didn't say he was in danger, just the connection was being closed and they would contact him as soon as they could.

He broke into a cold sweat. This could mean anything! Murphy's organization could be in danger of being picked up by the Irish, which meant they'd be coming for him, too. Or Murphy could be just being cautious.

He leaned back on his chair and wondered what he should do. Murphy had outlined several types of messages he might receive. To the uninitiated, they would all appear to be innocent letters, when in fact they carried specific messages. This letter was clear. The network was being severed, he was on his own and to act with caution.

He smiled to himself. He never imagined playing the role of spy, but there was a unusual thrill to it.

According to this, I have nothing to worry about, he mused. It's business as usual, then. I'll alert Korwin that we need to get the committee moving again.

Amhar lifted the note from Murphy and aimed his wand at it. A second later, it vanished in a flash of smoke. He waved his wand again to clear the air, then signaled for his secretary to enter the office.

"Dorothy, let's get ready to send out some summons for new witnesses for the committee," he said in a congenial tone. He'd keep plugging away at Potter and his allies. Maybe if he shook the tree hard enough, something would fall out.

Dorothy nodded and took down the names of the people he wanted to see, then she left. In the outer office, she duplicated the list and sent it on a priority interoffice routing to Trenton Largo. He'd look at the list and arrange for some of the witnesses to be warned ahead of time.

Haven School of Witchcraft and Wizardry...

She shivered in the chill air of the dormitory. She'd closed the curtains of her bed and cast a silencing charm to ensure the others could not eavesdrop.

Sitting on the bed with her legs crossed, she stared down at the object in front of her. She knew what was to come and shivered again, this time in anticipation. It was useless to resist, nor did she wish to. Not anymore.

We've come a long way together, girl. Do not fear what is to come. You are immune to my sweet nectar. I've seen to that. Tonight, we shall consummate our dark union. We started in blood, and so shall we end. You know what you need to do. Make our bond complete. Make us one.

Nodding, the girl picked up the object. Holding her hands as though in prayer, with the dagger between both palms, she closed her eyes.

"Meus vita quod anima ad vobis. Vestri mos ad mei. Imbibo mihi." She stumbled over the unfamiliar words at first, but finished in a strong, firm voice as the object in her hands began to glow. Taking a deep breath, she repeated them in English. "My life and soul to you. Your will to mine. Drink of me."

With a quick motion, she grasped the dagger in one hand and slid the blade across the top of her thigh, hissing as it bit deep. She dropped the dagger and cried out as she clutched at her leg. It felt as through the flesh was being burned from the bone.

Images flashed through her mind. They were confusing and disjointed, but all were images of death. The screams of the dagger's victims roared through her. Her heart thundered in her chest as she experienced the agony of the dying, and the ecstasy of the dagger's servants.

As pain and pleasure fought for dominance, her body went taut. Unable to take more, blackness descended and she went limp.

Padfoot Manor, late afternoon (Jan 19th)...

Harry looked up from his desk when he heard the door to his study open. Standing in the doorway was Amelia and Councilor Trenton Largo.

"Amelia and Trenton! Come in, please," he said, standing and waving them to chairs.

"Love, you might want to join me in my study, and bring Remus. Amelia just showed up with Trenton Largo. Neither of them look particularly pleased about something," he sent to Hermione.

"I'll be right there. I'll have Winky find Remus and tell him to join us," she replied.

Harry took his seat. "I've sent for Hermione and Remus."

Amelia shook her head and smiled at him. "That still amazes me."

"What amazes you?" asked Largo.

"Harry and his wife. They have a bond that allows them to speak to each other mentally. They can be quite a distance apart and still talk to each other," she replied.

"Mindspeech? Really? Don't let Councilor Umbridge know about that, my Lord," Largo said with a smile. "She's been rebuilding the Department of Mysteries and I know for a fact she's looking for topics to research. You don't want her prodding you with her wand."

Harry shook his head. Agatha Umbridge was one of the Ministry's staunchest supporters, and she had volunteered to help the Ministry revive the research division of the Department of Mysteries. The woman was quite different from her sister, but she was very tenacious when confronted with something new. In that way, she reminded him of Hermione.

"Don't worry, I have no intentions of telling her about it," Harry replied with a smile.

"Tell who about what?" asked Hermione. She stood in the doorway, her eyes narrowed and focused on Harry.

He waved a hand. "Agatha. Trenton was warning me not to tell her about our bond and what it can do."

Hermione sat down and looked at Trenton curiously. "Councilor Umbridge isn't that bad," she said in defense of the woman.

Harry laughed. "I'm afraid, Trenton, that Hermione considers Agatha something of a kindred spirit. Councilor Umbridge has spent many an evening here at the manor in deep discussion with my wife over some obscure point of magic."

"You know, Harry," Hermione said archly, "you're not as stupid as you pretend to be. I've seen you walk by and point out the error in our argument, then walk away, pretending you don't understand anything."

He smirked. "It's all a matter of application, Hermione. You deal with theory, I deal with application. I'm not an expert in runes, but the portals are a new application of those runes. I just took what someone else... Ah, Remus. Finally. Come in and sit down. Amelia and Trenton showed up and, from their expressions, I'd say they don't have good news."

"Saved by the werewolf," Hermione sent wryly.

Harry choked on a laugh.

Remus shook his head ruefully from the door and walked over to a free chair.

Amelia and Trenton exchanged a glance, then she nodded to Trenton.

"My Lord, my lady..."

"Please, Trenton, I think we can dispense with the titles," Harry said, interrupting him.

Largo nodded. "Alright, thank you. Now, you might not know it, but I made some arrangements that resulted in a change of staff in Councilor Coeur de Lion's office. His secretary had been looking for employment elsewhere because, well, lets say that the good Councilor was a little too playful for her tastes, or for her husband's."

Harry scowled and motioned for Trenton to continue.

"Actually, we had to speak with her husband. He's a Canadian Auror and he wanted to challenge the Councilor to a duel," Amelia quipped with a grin.

"It would have save us a lot of headache if he had," grumbled Harry.

Hermione shot him a reproachful glare.

"Anyway," added Largo. "As I was saying, we set dear Councilor Coeur de Lion up with a new secretary, one who is highly efficient, and less suited to his particular tastes. And she works for us."

Harry looked at him with interest now. "And?"

Largo's expression turned sour. "Tomorrow, Lady Potter and her parents will receive notices calling them before the committee. Amhar is firmly convinced that Lady Potter's parents used some dark ritual to gain their magic. He plans on having all three present and witnessing at the same time in the hopes that one may say something that will trip another into a damaging admission. The committee will meet in two days time.

"Considering the change in the method, I've pushed for, and gotten, approval for this coming session to be an open committee session. The Minister will be attending, as will several neutral members of the Wizengamot who have heard things they do not like about Amhar's tactics."

Harry stood and walked to the window. He stared out at the grounds, his body stiff. Hermione looked at him sharply as their bond narrowed down to the bare minimum needed to keep it open. She could tell he was furious just from his posture.

"Two days, then. It's time to put an end to this once and for all," Harry said tightly.

"Harry?" Amelia said in alarm.

"I think this has gone on long enough, Amelia. I know you've advised patience, but I can't allow this to continue any longer. I will not sit back and let that... that man attack my wife and family."

Everyone in the room stood in alarm. Magic was literally pouring off Harry in waves that could be seen and felt.

"Harry, love, calm down. You can't kill him..." She trailed off when he glared at her.

His aura flickered in the fading light from the window.

"I'm not going to kill the man, Hermione," He said with some irritation. "If Amhar is killed, another will just take his place. I need to neutralize the problem at the source. I should have done it before Christmas, but I let everything else distract me from what was occurring."

Hermione relaxed a little when she felt the bond widen enough for her to feel his anger lessen. It was replaced by a steely determination.

Dobby appeared in the study, holding Harry's traveling cloak and his money bag. He handed them to Harry and then vanished again. Harry put on his cloak and tied the bag to his belt, then he summoned his staff to his hand.

"I'll be back by the time you meet with the committee," he said. Then he started to glow. It started as a bright pinprick of light at the center of his chest and it expanded until he couldn't be seen. A moment later, the glow faded and he was gone.

"Merciful Merlin! What was that?" exclaimed Trenton Largo.

"I don't think there's a name for it. Harry calls it traveling. It's slower than a portkey or apparating, but he can cover enormous distances without risking a fall at the end of the trip," offered Remus. He then turned to Hermione. "Well?"

Hermione nibbled at her lip. She was scared. Harry had left without telling her where he was going. "I still feel him, Remus. It isn't like last time when he cut me off. He isn't even all that angry. He's determined to put a stop to this, but I haven't a clue how he plans on doing it," she said pensively, then sighed. "He's going to be gone tonight and tomorrow night."

"Do you think we should track him down and stop him?" asked Amelia worriedly.

Remus snorted and tried to hold in a laugh. "Stop Harry? Be serious, Amelia. You might was well hope to stop the tide from coming in. When he wants to, he can be as implacable as a force of nature. Frankly, I'm pretty sure he's in no danger whatsoever. I'm more concerned about how he intends to neutralize Coeur de Lion 'at the source'."

"Is he always like this?" asked Trenton.

"No," replied Hermione. "Harry acts rashly sometimes, but I know him. He's not acting rashly this time. He's got a plan, something he hasn't told anyone about, I think."

"If you're trying to make me feel better, Hermione, it's not working," Amelia complained.

Hermione could only shrug. Harry was gone for now, and it wasn't making her feel any better.

Slowly the group broke up, leaving Hermione sitting at Harry's study. She carefully opened the bond as wide as she possibly could.

"Harry?" she called.

The silence from the bond disturbed her and she couldn't stop that tear that ran down her cheek. The bond was still active, but she still felt very much alone. Suddenly a surge of emotion came up the bond to her and she gasped in surprise.

They were too far apart to speak, but not too far to feel what the other was feeling. She shivered as Harry caressed her from wherever he was. He sent her reassuring feelings and love.

She sighed and left his office. It would be a long day tomorrow without him, she was sure of that.

Hogwarts Castle, Slytherin's Chamber...

"You are sure of this, my child?" asked the Bloody Baron.

"Yes, my lord," replied the ghost of Penelope Clearwater.

The Baron frowned. He turned to Sir Nicholas, who was looking more than a little concerned. "We must learn the truth of this, Sir Nicholas."

"I quite agree, my lord Baron. What do you suggest?" asked Sir Nicholas.

"Summon the ghosts to council!" snapped the Baron.

Sir Nicholas' eyes widened. "A council? You wish to hold a council?"

The Baron stared at him so hard he visibly trembled. "It will be as you order, my lord Baron," mumbled Sir Nicholas.

Penelope stared at the two senior ghosts and was visibly frightened. The Baron had taken her under his wing, so to speak, helping her learn the ways being a ghost. So few of the living understood what the existence of ghosts was like. And so few wanted to know. Penelope had been surprised to discover that ghosts had their own community, their own government, they could even partake in a form of pleasure that involved merging their form with another ghost for a brief period of time. Ghostly marriages were common place, even if the living didn't know about them.

Now she was about to see something new, something she had only been told about. The Ghost Council of Hogwarts.

Sir Nicholas moved to the center of the chamber, not far from the table where Harry's power crystal rested, and he began to make a deep thrumming sound. Penelope gasped as the sound hit her, causing every part of her body to tingle.

The Baron moved to stand in front of the power crystal, waiting. Slowly the chamber started to fill with ghosts. Hogwarts had a long history and people had seen only a handful of the total number of spirits contained within it. Some of the spirits even predated the building of the castle, having been here from an earlier building.

The Baron was one of the strongest ghosts in the castle, and hence the leader of the Ghost Council, but he was by no means the oldest, or the wisest. That honor fell to a Christian monk who died in the fourth century when the monastery that had been on the site was looted and burned. He was never seen by the living, and even among the ghosts he was a barely visible outline.

"Who summons the council?" asked the ancient monk. His voice sounded distant, almost like the sound of the wind.

"I summon the council, ancient Thadeus," replied the Baron, bowing low in respect to the eldest of them.

"Our daughter, Penelope, has overheard a most disturbing conversation between two of the black cloaks. They claimed that the Dark Lord now has a new wand, a stronger wand, and that with this wand he has killed brother Peeves," the Baron said.

A murmur rolled through the crowd of ghosts.

"What will we do?" wailed Myrtle in terror. Several other ghosts looked around in fear, as if the Dark Lord had suddenly appeared to obliterate them all.

"It is possible," said Thadeus, "that the Dark Lord may have a latent ability in necromancy and in the boosting he obtained from his foul rite, may have awakened that ability. He is untrained in the art and does not know how to exorcise, but we cannot discount the possibility of his stumbling onto a technique that works."

"Without Peeves, we cannot inform Lord Potter of what is going on here. None of us can affect the corporeal unless we possess a body and we cannot bring the living here. Lord Potter holds the secret to the chamber, only he can bring other living beings here. He will not return for at least another two weeks to replenish the supply of traps and pranks used by Peeves," the Baron said thoughtfully. "What would you suggest, Thadeus?"

"We must learn all that we can about this new wand of the Dark Lord's. But we must be wary. He cannot exorcise you if he cannot see you. Never be visible in his presence. And we must learn the truth about Peeves. We must search the castle and the outlying buildings. I have heard of poltergeists being driven out, but never one being destroyed. Peeves may be merely hiding. If we can't find him, then I think it's safe to assume we have lost him. We'll have no choice at that point but to wait for Lord Potter's visit so we can make other arrangements to get information to him."

The Baron nodded and turned away from Thadeus. He surveyed the ghosts arrayed before him and noted the small cluster of ghosts in the back corner of the room. He frowned and his eyes narrowed. These were former black robes that hadn't crossed over. Their loyalty to the castle and the others was tenuous at best.

"It is time for you five to choose your loyalty," the Baron said, addressing the group directly. "You know our secrets, but are unable to reveal our safe room because of the magic on the room. You can choose to help those living in the castle now, and they will not thank you for your aid, or you can choose to help us and be welcome among us. Know that if you choose to help the black robes, we will deny you access to the crystal of power. Your magic will slowly fade and you will dissolve into the great ether."

"You can't force us to help you!" shouted one of the ghosts.

Most of the other ghosts in the room turned to view the former Death Eaters.

"We are still loyal to our lord and master!" another said vehemently.

One of the five looked at the other four, then he moved away from them. "I died by Voldemort's own hand, killed because he was inpatient. I was young, just graduated from school and I made a mistake in accepting that way of life. I have much sin to atone for, but I will cleanse the stain on my soul. I will not support that monster anymore."

Several of the other ghosts surged forward and grabbed the repentant ghost by his arms, pulling forward into the main group.

The Baron nodded and smiled gently at the newest of their kindred, then he turned to the other four. His expression hardened and his voice rang out harshly.

"Hear then the voice of the Ghost Council of Hogwarts. You have defied the collective will and refused to join in the defense of our home. For that crime you are cast out! If your loyalty lies with your Dark Lord, then go, join him. You are no longer welcome in our chamber. Does the council agree?"

The shout of 'Aye!' echoed off the chamber walls.

The four suddenly moved close together, cringing as they felt the power of the council being used against them.

"Thus spoke the will of the Ghost Council of Hogwarts. You are outsiders. No ghost will speak with thee, no ghost will aid thee, no ghost will acknowledge thee. Begone!" shouted the Bloody Baron.

A howling wind rushed through the chamber and the four ghosts found themselves being pushed from the room. They screamed in terror as they passed through the wall. The stones glowed softly as the combined magic of the council sealed the walls, preventing the four from entering the chamber again.

Thadeus drifted over to the remaining former Death Eater. "How are you called, my son?" asked the ancient ghost softly.

"Damien. I was called Damien," answered the ghost shyly.

"Come, Damien. The path to atonement is not easy, but we can guide you," Thadeus said. The other ghosts respectfully moved away from the pair. Their conversation would take decades. His path to atonement would take centuries.

The Baron turned to Sir Nicholas. "You heard the Wise One. Let us search the castle for Peeves, and we must set a watch on the Dark Lord. We must know more about this wand of his."

Sir Nicholas bowed and turned to the others. "The council is ended. Search every nook and cranny of the castle. Find Peeves," he commanded.

Haven School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Jan 20th)...

Millicent was walking down a corridor when she suddenly found herself being pulled into a broom closet. Instantly, she had her wand out and aimed at the figure holding onto her arm.

Deneb backed away slowly and raised both hands. "Easy there, Milli. There's no need to get violent," he said with a wry grin.

She scowled at him. "What in the name of Merlin do you think you're doing pulling me into a broom closet? And don't call me Milli!" she hissed at him.

Deneb grinned and slowly lowered his hands when she lowered her wand.

"I wanted to talk to you and you've been avoiding me," he explained in his easy going way. He moved a little closer to her and she backed up against the closed door.

"W-w-what did you want to talk about?" she asked. Hearing herself stutter, she grew angry. She wasn't used to being nervous, but he was making her so. He was invading her personal space, almost as if daring her to push back. What did he want?

Deneb smiled at her discomfort. "Am I making the great Millicent Bulstrode, terror of Slytherin house, nervous?" he asked mockingly.

"You don't scare me," she replied, trying to sound sure of herself and failing miserably.

He raised an eyebrow at the waver in her voice and his grin widened. He leaned a little closer to her. "I wanted to know why you've been avoiding me, Milli," he said in a strangely gentle voice. Gone was any hint of mockery or derision. "The Headmistress said we're supposed to work together, but every time I spot you, you head in a different direction."

"I, uh... I'm used to working alone, Thorntree," she snapped.

"It must be very lonely doing that," he murmured, then he reached out and pushed an errant strand of her hair behind her ear.

Her eyes widened and she tried to back up further, only to realize her back was already against the door. Her anger vanishing, only to be replaced by confusion. "W-w-what are you on about?" she stammered.

"Oh, I think you know very well," Deneb said in a husky tone.

Millicent ducked and moved around him. She didn't like having the door to her back with no room to maneuver.

Deneb turned around to face her and shook his head. "Do I make you that nervous, Milli? Be honest with me. Tell me you don't like guys, or that you don't like me, and we'll just be friends. But I promise you, I'll do nothing to hurt you," he told her softly.

"Why me?" she asked in a near squeak. "I'm not stupid, Thorntree. I know I'm nothing to look at. I know what the boys around school say behind my back. You could have any girl you want. Why are you tormenting me?"

Deneb leaned his back against the closet door and stuck his hands in his pockets. He eyed her for a moment, then he shrugged. "I see it's confession time, so I'll be blunt. I like you. I could date any girl I want, I know that. But I don't want one of those thin, powdery girls. I'm not attracted to the waif look. It's alright for some guys, but not for me. I like a woman who's smart, cunning and has a bit of meat on her bones.

"I know you don't believe me, Milli, but I think you're smart as hell, sly as a fox and pretty enough to keep me awake at night. I've been trying to catch your attention since we moved to Haven and you've been ignoring me. Tell me you're not interested and I'll back off," he told her.

Millicent shook her head in denial. This couldn't be happening to her! She had gone her entire school career without attracting any serious male attention, and now one of the most handsome boys in school not only liked her, but thought she was pretty?

"I think you need your eyes checked and your head examined," she muttered darkly, unable to wrap her head around the idea.

Deneb's expression fell. "I see," he said hesitantly. "I'm sorry you feel that way, Millicent. I'll leave you alone."

He turned and reached for the doorknob.

"Wait!"

He paused and leaned his forehead against the door. "What?" he asked.

She was surprised to hear the hurt in his voice. Maybe this wasn't a prank after all, a small voice in the back of her mind said.

"You're serious, aren't you? This isn't some kind of cruel prank?" she asked.

"I'm very serious, Milli. This is no prank. I wouldn't do that to you or anyone," he told her, then sighed. Things weren't going the way he'd hoped they would.

"No one has ever thought of me that way."

"I figured that might be the case. But I do think of you that way."

"So what do we do now? I'm not exactly used to this kind of situation."

Deneb turned and looked at her carefully. She had dropped her usual mask of indifference and he could see the hope in her eyes. He smiled at her and reached out with one hand. She hesitated for a second, then took it in her own. She was surprised by how warm and comforting his hand was.

"I'd like for us to have a relationship, Milli. You know, the usual. Dates, hand holding, sneaking off to a broom closet to make out, that sort of thing. Maybe someday we'll be ready for something more, but I don't want to rush either of us into that. I see so much in you that you've tried to keep hidden."

"Really?"

Deneb nodded and moved close enough that their bodies brushed lightly. "Really," he replied. He placed one hand gently on her hip, leaned down and kissed her softly.

When he pulled away a moment later, he saw a look of startled pleasure flicker across her face. When she smiled at him, he bent down and kissed her again. He marveled at how her smile made her look so much prettier.

Twenty minutes later, the door to the broom closet opened and Deneb and Millicent stepped out. She bore a happy, if slightly bewildered look, but he looked smug. He'd been right. She was everything he'd hoped for, and more.

Maybe in a few months I'll explain my grand plan to her, he thought. By then she'll be used to the idea of having me around and the thought of getting married in a few years won't scare her off. Then again, she might just kick my arse for even suggesting it. He grinned at the idea. Either way, life with her will never be dull!

Haven, Assorted Locations (Jan 21st)...

Hermione rolled out of bed at Winky's urgings. The elf had set breakfast at their table, but she wasn't very hungry. She hadn't slept well. She missed Harry and that disturbed her sleep. Throughout the night she'd gotten weird flashes in her dreams that didn't make sense to her.

She had held the bond as wide as she could for as long as she could. But by the time she gone to bed she couldn't hold it open any longer. She'd released it only to discover Harry was holding it open for them. She'd crawled into bed feeling the love and longing pouring through the bond, but it was a poor substitute for having a husband to hold at night.

"Mistress, should be getting up now," Winky urged. "Breakfast is on the table, then you goes straight into the bath. Yous has important meetings today and yous needs to be awakes and fresh. I lay out your good clothes."

Hermione shuffled to the table and poured herself a cup of tea from the set Harry had given her for Christmas. She sipped her tea and idly nibbled on some toast, not really thinking much about what she had to do. Today was her turn in Amhar's Wizengamot committee, along with her parents, and she was not looking forward to it.

She glanced out the window and was surprised to see hundreds of elves going over the front lawn. "Winky? Why are there so many elves outside?"

Winky looked up from laying out Hermione's family dress robes. "Master Harry's orders, Mistress. He tell Dobby to make sure the Manor sparkles," replied the little elf, then she reached out a hand and snapped her fingers. A jewelery box appeared in her hand and she opened it, pulling out several pieces and laying them on the dressing table.

Hermione turned to look at the elf and she frowned. "Winky, I don't think I need to wear those clothes today, nor the jewels."

Winky sniffed loudly. "Master said so, Mistress."

Hermione froze for a second, then she glared at Winky in anger. "Are you telling me that my husband is ordering me to wear these clothes?" she said between ground teeth.

"Winky don't know about no ordering, all Winky knows is that the Master wanted his lady to wear her very best today. Her parents and everyone in the household is to do the same. Mistress can wear what she wants, but doesn't Mistress like to please her mate? Winky knows she likes to make Dobby happy, even if he is an insane elf," she said with a straight face.

"Fine! But I swear he better explain this or I'll make him sleep downstairs on the most uncomfortable couch I can find!" she exclaimed, then she stormed into the bathroom, muttering under her breath.

Winky laughed softly to herself and turned back to setting out what her mistress needed for the day. Alone, she softly hummed to herself and wished Hermione were more appreciative of her mate, even if he was as nutty as his elf.

An hour later, dressed in her finery and sparkling with jewels, Hermione was finally released by Winky so she could meet her parents. She stepped out of the bedroom and muttered a startled oath. The corridor was full of house elves, cleaning everywhere.

She turned to see her parents walking gingerly around the creatures. Her parents were dressed in their best. She was surprised to see that both of them wore family robes with a crest on them and she wondered who had researched the Granger family crest.

Both Dan and Emma had a bemused expression on their faces.

"Good morning, love," said Emma.

"Good morning, Mum. I take it you had help dressing today?"

"It was the strangest thing," said Dan. "We woke up to two elves who insisted on making sure we wore the appropriate clothing and jewelery today. An elf popped in with a huge chest of jewelery, most were antiques and asked Emma to pick some items. There were several crowns. Crowns! Can you believe it?"

Hermione's eyes flickered to the silver circlet that her mother wore to help tame her hair and she wished she had thought about that. It was finely wrought and made her mother appear absolutely regal.

"This is Harry's doing, isn't it?" Emma asked.

Hermione scowled and nodded.

Dan chuckled. "Don't be too angry with him, pumpkin. He's obviously got something up his sleeve. This is all part of his grand plan."

Hermione turned and looked at her father with suspicion. "What do you know about it?" she asked, practically snarling.

Dan took a step back, ducking behind Emma. "Why, I know nothing," he sputtered. "But I can tell when a husband is trying to surprise his wife."

Hermione glared at her father, her anger simmering. Across the bond she felt Harry's love, and a silent plea to stop fighting. She closed her eyes for a moment, calming herself, then she opened them again. "Fine," she said. "But Harry's got a lot of explaining to do when he gets home. Look at this! There must be two hundred elves working around the manor!"

Dan looked at her daughter carefully, then he turned to Emma. "She's awful irritable today. Could she be pregnant? You were irritable like that when you carried her."

Both Emma and Hermione turned to glare at Dan, who cringed and flinched back from them. "Alright! I was just asking. Don't you think we should get going?" he said, desperate to change the subject.

Hermione and Emma gave him another death glare before moving towards the stairs. In the foyer, elves appeared with their cloaks. Hermione took hers, donned it and stepped outside the manor to the apparation point. She paused and looked around in confusion. Several elves were renewing the coloring charms on the manor, and off to one side, a flagpole had been erected. It was flying the British flag and underneath that, the flag of the Ministry of Magic.

"What is going on here?" Dan asked in confusion.

Hermione smiled. She had a suddenly burst of inspiration and she shook her head. Harry wouldn't do that, would he? she wondered. But then, since no one bothered to tell Harry what he can and can't do, I wouldn't put it past him.

"Hermione what are you smiling about?" asked Emma. "You look like Crookshanks after he's caught a mouse!"

She smiled and turned to answer her mother when another voice stopped her.

"Wait!"

Everyone turned to see Luna walking out of the Manor house, dressed in her version of the Black Family robes. The garish fluorescent pink clashed horribly with the international orange trim. And if that wasn't bad enough, she had found her necklace of butterbeer bottle caps. She held Fuzz in her hands and she was speaking to the Snorkack quite firmly.

The Snorkack buzzed and whirred in reply.

Luna walked up to Hermione and lifted Fuzz up to eye level. "Protect," she murmured.

The little Snorkack whirred loudly, then she leapt over to perch on Hermione's shoulder, wrapping her tail loosely around her neck. With a loud whir, the Snorkack faded from sight, leaving only two eyes blinking at Hermione.

Hermione looked at Luna in surprise and the blond laughed gaily. "She wanted to go with you," she said, then she turned and walked back into the manor. "Have fun!" she called before she entered the building.

Hermione stood motionless. She hadn't had much quality time with Fuzz and she wasn't sure what to do. Fuzz rumbled softly on her shoulder and she could feel her curl up and begin to snore softly. Carefully, she turned around and faced her parents. "Do you both remember your apparating lessons?"

"Sure, picture where we want to go, concentrate and then step over," replied Emma excitedly. This would be her first semi-long distance apparation.

Dan nodded.

"Alright then, we're going to the lobby of the Wizengamot building," Hermione announced.

Emma nodded, then she closed her eyes and vanished with a loud pop.

Dan huffed and grumbled something about her always having to be first, then he too vanished with a loud pop.

Hermione laughed and followed the two, though more quietly.

She appeared a moment later in the lobby of the Wizengamot building and looked around. Not far away her mother was checking herself carefully to make sure she hadn't splinched herself. She didn't see her father.

"Dad?" she called.

The door to the lobby opened and Dan ran inside, his chest heaving from running.

"What happened to you," asked Emma in a smug tone.

"I missed my landing point," he replied in a surly tone. Both women exchanged amused glances.

Hermione checked her watch. "We have five more minutes. We might as well go on in."

Dan and Emma nodded and Hermione turned. She suddenly stumbled and Dan caught her. Her bond flared to life.

"Hi!" sent Harry.

"Where are you?" she asked, somewhat snappily.

"Oh ho, someone's mad at me, eh? Well, I'm sorry, my heart, but I promise I'll make it up to you. And to answer your question, I'm at Gringotts. We'll be there shortly, I just want to wait until the committee is in full session," he replied.

"We?"

"My lips are sealed!" he replied with amusement.

"Harry, you don't need your lips to talk to me this way," she replied in exasperation.

"Fine, my brain is sealed then."

"Now that I am willing to believe! Alright, I'll let you have your fun, but this better be good or you'll be sleeping on the couch for the next year!"

Laughter bubbled up the link to her and she couldn't help but smile. "Harry's back. He's at Gringotts right now and says he'll join us once the committee session gets underway," she announced to her parents. She felt as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

Straightening her shoulders, she led her parents towards the committee meeting room. She felt a profound sense of relief that Harry was nearby again, and that he had a plan, even if he wasn't sharing it with anyone.

Wizengamot Investigative Committee...

Amhar Coeur de Lion stepped into the room and his smile drooped slightly when he spotted the Grangers and Hermione. The girl was wearing her family robes, proclaiming her affiliations, and her right to be called Lady Potter. The Grangers were also wearing family robes, although he didn't recognize the crest.

His smile turned to a frown when Hermione remained seated when he entered and took his seat. I'm going to have to do this fast and hard, he thought. I can't drag this session out, or let them assume control of the questioning.

He looked at the trio before him, then he lifted a piece of paper.

"Let the record show that on this day we began the testimony of Mrs. Potter and her parents Mr. & Mrs. Granger," he said officiously to the court reporter.

"Lady Potter," Hermione said, interrupting him coldly.

"Excuse me?" Amhar said.

"Lady Potter. I am Harry Potter's wife, but my title is Lady Potter and you will address me as such," replied Hermione. A whir came from her shoulder and Amhar glanced around the room nervously.

"She's right, Councilor," added Councilor McFerrson. "Her title is Lady Potter. To call her anything else would be an insult."

"Mud bloods aren't allowed titles," snapped Amhar angrily. He hadn't expected Lillias to jump in on the Potters' side so early in the session. McFerrson's comments undermined his authority in front of the witnesses!

Amhar turned to Hermione. "Tell me, Lady Potter, why shouldn't I charge you and your parents with indulging in the dark arts. I have spoken with many knowledgeable researchers and there is no known light art ritual that will give power to muggles like these things," he said with a snarl, pointing at Hermione's parents.

Hermione, along with nearly every committee member, bounced to her feet, shouting. No one noticed when the doors to the room swung open and a red carpet rolled into the room. A moment later, everyone cringed and covered their ears as a deafening fanfare of trumpets filled the room.

As soon as the fanfare ended, Harry Potter walked into the council chambers wearing the dress uniform of a full colonel of the British Army.

Hermione's eyes widened and she couldn't believe just how good he looked in the uniform. He carried his staff in one hand and a piece of paper in another.

"What is the meaning of this?" shouted Amhar.

Harry ignored him. "Minister Bones, are you present?" he called.

Amelia stood up. "I'm here, Harry," she replied in confusion.

Harry unfolded the note and began to read it aloud. "Madam Minister. By order of His Royal Majesty, King Charles, you are commanded to dissolve the illegal and non representative body known as the Wizengamot.

"Beginning today, the British Ministry of Magic will work to revise it's charter, bringing it in-line with current, modern governing practices. You will no longer discriminate against anyone on the basis of blood, color, race or religion. You are further commanded to assemble an elected legislative and oversight body that will assume the duties held by the former Wizengamot. The elected body will assume a legislative role in the government, but not judicial, which will be held by a third body of government, appointed by and overseen by His Majesties government.

"So orders the King of the United Kingdom," Harry finished with a flourish. Then he folded and pocketed the order.

There was stunned silence in the room and everyone stared at Harry. Finally, people began to break free from the shock the King's order had caused.

Amelia sat down heavily, stunned speechless. Dan and Emma stifled their laughter. Even Remus, who sat behind them, had a difficult time holding in his laughter.

"You can't do this!" shouted Amhar. "This is treason! I won't allow it!"

"He can't do it, perhaps, but I can," a voice called from the back of the room.

Harry smirked at Amhar and stepped aside so he could get a good look at the King.

Amelia shot to her feet and gaped. Hermione smiled and curtsied instinctively. Amhar collapsed in his seat, his mouth opening and closing.

The King looked at Amhar. "I'm told, Councilor, that you consider yourself related to the Royal Family. I have news for you, sir. The house of Windsor does not recognize bastard lines of earlier Royal Families. Even if you were acknowledged, you would of be of the line of Angevin, not Windsor. You are no relation to the Royal House of Britain."

The King walked over to Hermione and took her hand in his own. "It is good to see you again, my lady. Your husband has invited me partake of your hospitality, offering a place to stay and invited me to dinner. I can't tell you how much I look forward to spending a nice quiet evening with you and your husband."

Hermione blushed. "We are honored to have you join us, Your Majesty," she replied.

It was clear to everyone present that the King, at least, had no problems with Hermione's station in the scheme of things.

"What does this mean?" asked Trenton Largo in confusion.

The King turned to look at Largo and Harry walked up behind him. "Trenton Largo has been a long time supporter of the Ministry and the war effort, sir," he said quietly to the King.

Charles smiled at Largo. "It means that the new Wizengamot will represent the people, Councilor. You govern at the will of the people. Balancing the good of what your people want with what is good for the country as a whole is the task of every real politician. An elected body may sometimes mean bad people are elected, but they rarely stay in office for long."

The King glanced at Amhar, who was still sitting in shock, and it was obvious who he thought was a bad person in office.

Amelia stepped up to Harry and the King. "This is most unexpected, Your Majesty," she said, shooting a death glare at Harry. Harry smirked back at her. After all the times she pushed him into something he didn't want, it was only fair for him to get one up on her.

The King laughed genially. "Don't blame Harry too much, Madam Minister. He came to me with a problem that only I could solve. But it was not without some measure of cost on his part. For far too long we have ignored our magical subjects. That will change, starting today. Lord Potter's position in the SAS was mostly fictitious, until today. Today the SAS activates the 24th regiment, a special unit that will remain under your Ministry unless we need it. Lord Potter will be the overall commander of the unit. This change will mark the beginning of closer ties between the Ministry of Magic and the Crown."

Hermione stepped up behind Harry and she admired him in this uniform. "Looks very good on you," she sent to him. "Very good."

Harry blushed to his roots and glared at Hermione. The images she sent to him had little to do with what was happening and everything to do with what she planned for him later this evening.

"Stop that! This is serious."

"I am serious," she retorted, then she grinned wickedly at him.

"Sir, since you're here, would you like for us to show you around? We would be honored to give you a tour of Haven and the surrounding areas," offered Amelia.

"I'd be delighted," replied the King. "I am anxious to see what you have built. I've heard much from Lord Potter and from the Prime Minister, but it would be nice to see it first hand."

Amelia nodded, and she slowly walked from the room with the King in tow.

Arthur stepped up to Harry and Hermione, grinning widely. "I'll send word via a house elf when we get close to the manor, Harry. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to catch up with Amelia. I suspect she's having kneazle kittens right about now." With a wave, he trotted from the room.

Amhar glared at Harry. "This isn't over, Potter." he snarled. Then he stood and walked stiffly out of the room.

No one noticed a pale Andrew Korwin slink from the room behind Amhar.

Trenton stood and walked unsteadily around the table to join Harry and his family. Lillias McFerrson stood nervously near by.

"Trenton, let the Wizengamot members know that if they are willing to help the Ministry in the war effort, we will find jobs for them. The King has ordered a change. You know, it always struck me as odd that the Ministry and the Wizengamot never agreed with the Magna Carta. Now it turns out that because of that oversight, he can do what he did. He has no authority to speak of among the muggles, but to the Ministry of Magic, he's still the Monarch," Harry said with a smile.

Lillias and several other members of the committee breathed a sigh of relief and left the room.

Harry wrapped an arm around Hermione's waist. "I'm sorry I had to keep this secret from everyone, but I wasn't sure I could pull it off. Now, let's go home. We have a very special dinner to get ready for."

Hermione snuggled closer to him, her anger from early vanished entirely.

Haven School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Jan 24th)...

An hour after curfew, a lone figure slid from shadow to shadow, hunting. Prefects were still out on patrol, as were a few teachers, but that was part of the thrill. She wasn't stupid, of course, She'd cast cushioning charms on her shoes and a disillusionment charm on herself, but she still felt the adrenaline rush through her system.

She had run across a pair of prefects five minutes ago. To test her charms, she passed very close to them in the darkened hall, and neither had seen or sensed her passing. She could have taken both of them, had been tempted to do just that, but changed her mind at the thought of sweeter prey. She had no specific person in mind, but then she rarely did. But she always knew them when she saw them. Something about them called out to her, and she was always happy to answer.

Coming to the end of a long hall, she peeked around the corner. Seeing it empty, she leaned against the stone wall and thought about turning around. When the sound of a door opening, then closing again came to her, she peeked around the corner again and smiled. A woman stood in front of a closed door halfway down the hall and drew her wand.

Realizing who she was seeing, the girl's heart raced. This was her victim!

Perfect, my girl. Tonight, darkness shall descend upon this place and all shall fear us! Take her so that we may feast upon her agony!

Nodding to the sibilant voice only she could hear, she walked quickly down the hall towards the woman. When her victim turned away from the door she had just warded and began to walk away, the girl smiled. It was almost as if the woman was begging to be taken!

Deciding to take her before she reached the end of the hall, the girl quickened her pace to catch up. Moments later, she drew an object from her robe. The blade of the dagger glinted in the low light of the few wall sconces still lit at this hour.

Outside the Headmistresses Office, Haven School of Witchcraft and Wizardry...

Closing the office door, Minerva turned and drew her wand. Warding the office was something she didn't normally do. But with the information Millicent had brought her about the person she'd overheard in the library, she'd begun to do so.

On her orders, the prefects now patrolled in pairs for safely. Most of the teachers had begun to do the same, feeling it would set a good example. Filius had managed to talk her into going with him this evening for their nightly rounds. He didn't like the idea of the Headmistress being out alone. She was angry over the need for such precautions, but agreed with him to ease his mind.

After warding the door, she tucked her wand back into her robe and started for the Great Hall, where she was to meet Flitwick. She was a few minutes late and knew he'd be worried. Before she could quicken her pace, she heard laughter, felt a hand grasp her shoulder...and then pain. Blinding, agonizing pain.

The breath was driven from her body. Ripping, grating, burning! She was burning! A shrieking sound pounded her eardrums and she writhed in agony, trying desperately to reach her back where the pain was centered. The corridor tilted strangely and she collapsed to the ground.

Author's Notes:

Alyx looked up when she heard the insane laughter coming from the PC across from hers.

"What are you cackling about?" she asked.

"Muwhahahaha! I'm getting revenge!" Bob replied, cackling gleefully.

"Revenge? On who? And why?"

"Them!" Bob shouted, pointing at the eager faces blinking at Alyx through her monitor. In fear she cringed back from the bizarre scene.

"What are they?" she asked in hushed tone.

"Readers," Bob replied ominously. "They read our work and never say anything, we feed them and they are silent. Maybe they are pod people."

"How are you getting revenge on them?"

Bob looked up at her, his eyes shining with mischief. "CLIFFY!" he proclaimed loudly.

"Yep, that will do it, but if they come after you, I knew nothing about it. I'm innocent!" Alyx exclaimed.

"B-B-But you wrote the last scene in the chapter!" Bob protested.

"Yeah, but you made it the last scene, I didn't. Now get on with the Author's notes," Alyx replied, brandishing her frying pan of infinite attacks.

Bob cowered back. "Yes dear."

For the record, Amhar is only slightly disarmed. We haven't seen the last of him yet.

Ok... this is the last time we'll say, the next person that brings it up will find themselves immortalized in fan fiction by dying a gruesome grisly death. If magic were capable of regrowing a limb don't you think that Moody would have both legs? We are not going to cut Harry's leg off and replace it with a leg like Wormtail's hand. We're not going to give him a peg leg etc... If your leg hurt on a chronic basis you wouldn't want it cut off, especially if you knew that avoiding some activities would prevent it from hurting.

As to why portkeys bother Harry so much, the way I see it, it's a combination of two things. One, his leg makes it difficult for him to maintain balance, but more importantly Harry is overpowering a portkey. If he activates the portkey, it takes power from him to transport and well you know Harry, he never does things in a small way.

Hopefully Harry's comments about Luna will clear up a little of the confusion about her.

I have nothing to say to all those people who wrote back with explanations of how it might be possible to shit up. You people have far too much time on your hands.

MononWalker: The name of the blade was something pulled out of thin air, along with the made up backstory.

Crys: Actually Alyx thought the idea was quite amusing. We often discuss plotlines and minibunnies like that long before they hit the keyboard, so I knew she was in favor of it before I wrote it.

And now... BLOOPERS!!!!

"Make sure next time you don’t do it again next time," Voldemort told. Harry nodded and let Hermione go.

This really isn't a blooper as much as it is one of those statements which makes you go huh?

The first plain is the plain of spirits, that's where you go after you die to be jugged.

Who am I to comment about being jugged. Just don't jug these authors too harshly.

"But in growing up, we have a choice in how we change, our choices determine where ewe go, who we become."

This is one blooper that must leave the author feeling sheepish. Ewe think?

I sweat I will get Dumbledore for doing this to you.

Yes, this is an example of the famous Wizarding world sweating oath. Someone send him to the showers. Please.

And finally, a special. Both of these bloopers came from the same story. The author was obviously making an attempt to correct mistakes.

"I’m going back, burger off!" yelled Ron biting his thumb at them.
"Berger off!" she said growling.

I left a review pointing out the errors to the author. The reply was a simple "Bagger off!"

Back to:: Harry Potter » Sunrise Over Britain

Sunrise Over Britain
Chapter 23 - Muddying the Waters

By Bobmin

Sunrise Over Britain Chapter 23 - Muddying the Waters

By Bobmin

Sunrise Over Britain
Chapter 23 - Muddying the Waters