Sunrise Over Britain
Chapter 25 - French Fried Troubles
By Bobmin
Standard Disclaimer:
The crate was huge. So big in fact that it was difficult to see around it. Slowly it was pushed onto the stage.
Alyx looked up from the stage manager's position and frowned. "Now what?" she mumbled under her breath, then she walked out onto the stage. From around the far end came a huffing sound. Curious she walked around the crate.
On the far side of the huge crate she found Bob, busily trying to pry the crate open.
"What are you doing? This is supposed to be the disclaimer!" she exclaimed.
Without even turning he whipped out a piece of paper and handed it to her, then turned back to the nearly open crate.
She glanced down at the paper and read.
"ACME PREFABRICATED DISCLAIMERS! WE DISCLAIM ANYTHING! Some assembly required."
She frowned and looked up, hoping to tell him to stop playing around, but his "AHA!" caused her to back away quickly.
The side of the crate snapped away as if under great pressure. It flew at high speed into the audience and someone screamed. Alyx winced.
Then there came a rumble from the crate as thousands, no, make that millions of pieces came tumbling out, nearly burying Bob under their weight.
"BOB!" Alyx shouted. "We don't have time for this!"
Bob, waist deep in disclaimer parts, looked up at Alyx. "Don't worry, the audience is patient. Besides, this will be a really cool disclaimer when I get it assembled, now go get me the three quarter inch lug nut wrench."
Alyx stamped her foot down. "I'm not going to lug his nuts around," she muttered darkly, then she gave him her patented Alyx Death Glare (4 10D +8), but Bob countered with his shield of Wife Ignore (Infinite Uses, but use at your own peril)
Alyx sighed and banged her head against the wall, then turned to the audience.
"I'm sorry, but our disclaimer it seems will be delayed this chapter. I assure you however that we make no claim to owning anything but the computers we type this stuff up on," she said contritely.
"HEY! Do you know this is nuclear powered! How cool is that? And it comes with a remote!" exclaimed Bob.
Muttering, Alyx stormed off the stage.
Chapter 25
Hogwarts Castle (Feb 1st)...
Pei Chung pushed the corpse off his body and slowly stood up. He glanced down at the muggle girl, killed by his hand, and smiled briefly. Pei was a sadist with very peculiar tastes. He enjoyed his women, but more importantly, he enjoyed killing them just as they climaxed. It was the only way he could achieve orgasm himself these days. It was something he'd accepted long ago, as it had been a part of his life for the past forty years.
Stepping over the body, he put on his robes. He would meet with Master Voldemort soon. The two men were developing an interesting relationship, based partially on both mutual respect and distrust. Pei Chung had brought his entire Iron Wand tong to Britain to offer their services to Voldemort. In return, Voldemort granted him ownership of the far east.
Magically, Voldemort was clearly his superior, but Chung was older and more studied than Voldemort. That meant that Voldemort needed his expertise. It was a card he would play to the fullest.
He left the sumptuous quarters that Voldemort had granted him and walked in a stately fashion down to the Great Hall where the Dark Lord held his audiences. Behind him his two body guards fell into step.
As he entered the Great Hall, Voldemort looked up from the ancient texts he was studying.
"Brother Chung, come and see. This manuscript suggests that we might be able to open a hole in the ward, rather then trying to drop it."
Chung walked to the table and his bodyguards fell back silently, taking position by the doors. "Yes, I checked the equations last night. The ward appears to be self sustaining, drawing power from the Ley lines. The amount of power that would be needed in order to drop the entire ward would be enormous. But poking a hole should be..."
He trailed off and stared at the book Voldemort had been reading. The book lifted off the table and slowly floated away from the table.
Voldemort turned and followed Chung's gaze. His eyes widened and he pulled his scepter. "Show yourself!" he roared.
A page was torn from the book and vanish in a puff a smoke, then something giggled gaily.
Voldemort roared, seeing the precious book being destroyed.
"Reducto!" shouted one of his Death Eaters, thinking to help his master. The curse sailed through the empty air, then struck the book, which exploded in a spray of parchment confetti.
"Avada Kedavra!" snarled Voldemort, killing the Death Eater.
The laughter continued. "Blind as a bat and getting fat!" sang a familiar voice.
Peeves slowly became visible and Voldemort, spotting the pesky poltergeist, fired off another killing curse.
The curse hit Peeves squarely in the chest and the Poltergeist wailed and shook like a dervish. His entire body began to glow and he looked at that Dark Lord with undisguised glee.
"You shouldn't've done that!" Peeves proclaimed, then he split into two, and those two split into two again. Finally a fifth poltergeist appeared hovering above the four.
"Me brothers!" Peeves proclaimed loudly. Voldemort gasped and Brother Chung winced visibly. "Miffs, Irks, Hacks and Vex!"
As he introduced each poltergeist, the creature floated forward, performed a rude hand gesture, then bowed.
Voldemort growled and instantly went for his scepter. The five poltergeists split up, heading in different directions. Two of the poltergeists, Vex and Irks, paused long enough to grab Brother Chung by his shoulders, before continuing their headlong dive towards the nearest wall. They didn't seemed the slightest bit perturbed over the fact that they could pass through the wall and Brother Chung couldn't. He slid to the floor, unconscious.
The last thing Chung heard was Voldemort telling a terrified Mulciber to find a necromancer or be prepared to undergo the ritual.
Padfoot Manor...
Hermione's eyes opened in the darkened bedroom and it took her a moment to figure out what had woke her up. The bed trembled and shook underneath her and she reached out in alarm to touch her husband. Harry was shivering violently and heat rolled off him in waves. He had complained the night before of feeling achy, but neither of them had thought much of it at the time.
Her touch woke him and he blinked groggily at her.
"You're sick!" she exclaimed.
"It's not like I asked for this to happen," he snapped back, then shivered again. Then the unthinkable happened and he sneezed.
The house shook and rumbled. There was a bright flash of light and a loud groaning sound from the eastern section of the manor. Hermione leapt from the bed in shock and hurriedly put on her robe. Harry sneezed again and someone screamed, a loud whining noise could be heard from the lawn. She glanced outside and saw something huge sitting on the lawn, but her mind refused to believe what she saw.
She cringed, seeing Harry about to sneeze again, but Dobby appeared and held up a hand to his forehead. Harry's eyes rolled up in his head and he slumped back on the bed.
"Mistress, please be getting Miss Narcissa. The master is ill and his magic is not under his control right now," Dobby said worriedly.
Hermione nodded and had turned towards the door when she spotted Crookshanks. Harry's uncontrolled burst of magic had given him wings and her familiar was happily gliding around the room. She shook her head and went to the door.
Before she could reach the nob, it turned and the door opened. Narcissa entered, followed by Remus and a very disgruntled Tonks, who seemed to be suffering from a transfiguration accident if the duck bill and feet where anything to go by.
Hermione blinked in confusion. Everything she'd read indicated a metamorph wasn't capable of changing into anything but humans!
Narcissa pushed Hermione of out the way and walked to Harry. She nodded gratefully to to the elf. "I have him now, Dobby," she said, pulling out her wand. Casting a spell to keep Harry unconscious, she then began to pull potion bottles out of her bag.
"Hasn't anyone ever told you to go to a healer as soon as you start feeling ill?" she asked Hermione angrily. Harry was still out cold on the bed.
"But it was just a cold!" Hermione protested.
Narcissa sighed and shook her head. "Muggles," she swore under her breath, then turned to fully face the younger witch.
"Hermione, you were raised by muggles; so was Harry. That's served you well in many things, but the one thing you cannot allow is for Harry or yourself to become sick. As soon as you think you're coming down with something, go to a healer. Harry's magic is out of control and it's going to take all day for the potions to put him back to rights so he can control it. It's true we don't get sick as often as muggles do, but when we do, it's more dangerous for us. And the stronger we are, the more dangerous we can be. Look out on the lawn!"
Hermione walked over to the window and gasped. The Aer Lingus aircraft was huge! The doors had been blown and the landing chutes deployed. Even now, the muggle passengers were scrambling from the plane.
"He pulled it from the sky, Hermione," Remus said softly. "I've alerted Amelia and they're sending every obliviator they can get their hands on, but this is going to be a major mess..."
He frowned as one of the engines, all four of which were still running, began to whine and thick black smoke started to pour from the back of it. Flames appeared quickly and started to lick around the edges of the cowling.
Elves from the manor began appearing all over the lawn and they pooled their magic to put out the flames. Unfortunately, they were also causing a panic among the muggles. He nodded to himself. "Now that makes sense," he muttered.
"Remus?"
"See the engine? The plane was going to crash. That's why his magic pulled it down."
Hermione blinked and stared at the crowd of people backing away from both the plane and the elves. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the group of wizards coming up the road to the crowd. Someone touched her side and she noted Tonks standing next to her.
"Tonks, why were you changing into a duck? I didn't think a metamorph could do that."
Tonks glared at her and Remus choked back a laugh. "She didn't. She was changing when she got hit by some of Harry's magic. I think it will wear off, otherwise we'll have to wait until Harry can undo it."
Hermione shook her head and looked at the others in the room She grinned when she spotted Luna, who seemed to be fascinated by Crookshanks.
"Amazing. The last recorded flight of a Kneazle was over a millennia ago," Luna murmured. Fuzz looked up from her shoulder at the flying Kneazle and meeped at him.
Narcissa joined Hermione and handed her a steaming goblet. "Drink this. I'm dosing everyone, just to be on the safe side."
She took the goblet and downed it quickly. The steam that escaped her ears quickly soaked and straightened her hair, causing it lay limply along her shoulders.
Narcissa moved from person to person, handing out doses and making sure everyone took theirs. When she was done, she turned to her bag to put things away and Crookshanks sneezed, loudly. Sighing, she shook her head. "I'll send for Hagrid."
"Will he be alright?" Hermione asked anxiously.
"I don't know, Hermione. I'm a healer trainee, not an animal specialist," Narcissa said grumpily.
"I meant Harry," Hermione said, flushing.
Narcissa blinked. "Oh! Yes, he'll be fine. He'll sleep most of today and tonight, By tomorrow morning he'll never know he was sick. If he wakes, Dobby knows what to do. The potions will keep him drowsy and Dobby will see that he eats something. I'll check in on him every couple hours."
"We'll help keep an eye on him, Cissy," Emma offered, coming up to stand behind her daughter.
Dan glanced out the window and frowned. "What will they do with that mess?" he asked, pointing a finger out the window.
"The obliviators will take care of it, Dan," Remus said.
"And the plane?"
Remus frowned. "I'm not sure."
"Can I make a suggestion?"
"What do you have in mind?"
"We're close enough to the coast. Shrink the plane, move it to the ocean, then obliviate everyone and make them think they survived a water landing thanks to the skill of the pilot and co-pilot. We don't have much time, but if we do this right, everyone can be moved to the coast and 'rescued' in a hour or two. Heck, you could even return the plane to full size and sink it. That would provide the evidence the muggle authorities need," Dan offered.
Remus smiled. "Come on, Dan. I see O'Dalley out there. Let's go talk with him."
Hermione watched her father and Remus leave the room, then she turned back to the bed. Looking at her husband, she sighed wearily.
"What is it, Hermione?" her mother asked.
"I warned him only a week ago that he was pushing himself too hard. He gets so caught up in what he's doing that he tends to forget things like eating and sleeping."
"He's not always going to be like that, Hermione. Two days ago I was coming back from the school and I caught him watching a pick up game of Quidditch, mostly little kids on training brooms. He asked me if, after the war, it would be alright if he took you to some beach somewhere and did nothing but lay in the sun for a month," Emma said, smiling at the memory. "Tell me something, darling. What would Harry would do if he thought you were working yourself too hard?"
Hermione frowned. "I see your point, Mum. I could have been more assertive with him."
Emma placed an arm around her daughter's shoulders. "You're still learning. You and Harry are newlyweds. Finding out where the limits are is half the fun. I'm surprised that they didn't mention this at school. How are the muggle born supposed to know better?"
Hermione crossed her arms and ducked her head to avoid being hit by Crookshanks. "I suppose they rely on the other students to warn the muggle born."
Emma scowled. "That's a sloppy way of doing things. I think I'll mention this to Minerva next time I'm up at the school."
"How is she doing? I don't get up to the school as much as I'd like to," Hermione said sadly.
"She's recovered, but I think that brush with death has made a change in her. How can anyone go through that and not be changed?" Emma replied.
"Changed? In what way?"
"She's mellowed a little. She smiles more often now and her comments don't have that biting edge they used to have. She's quickly becoming a favorite among the first years."
Hermione shook her head. It was a difficult concept to imagine. She had a great deal of respect for the Headmistress, but she found it difficult to envision. A softer McGonagall? She'd have to see that for herself.
British Embassy, 18bis rue d’Anjou, Paris...
The phone buzzed softly and the girl picked it up. She listened for a moment before replying with a simple, "Yes, sir."
She looked up at the three men sitting uncomfortably in the waiting room. "The Ambassador will see you now, gentlemen."
She stood and walked to a door, holding it open for them. She smiled sweetly at the two older men and eyed Neville with interest. His training had bulked him up considerably. With the added muscle and his new close cropped hairstyle, he cut a dashing figure.
"Gentlemen! Please, do come in," called a man sitting behind a desk.
The young woman followed them in. She bustled about at a silver tea service, then she served tea to everyone.
"Thank you, Bonnie. That will be all for now," the Ambassador said.
He waited until the woman left the office before he spoke again. "I am Ambassador Howe. You are the gentlemen that Department M warned me about, correct?"
"Yes, sir," said the most senior man. "Allow me to introduce myself and my companions. I am Geoffrey Collington, team leader. Normally, I am attached to our Department of Foreign Affairs as a senior undersecretary. To my left is Chadwick Talbot, from our Economics office. And finally, Neville Longbottom, military liaison."
The Ambassador stood and walked around his desk. He shook their hands, then leaned back against his desk. "According to the PM, I'm supposed to be talking to the French, sounding them out about post war policies and the like, while you gentlemen will be...?"
Collington looked a little sheepish. "I'm afraid you have the easier part of it, Ambassador. The French Ministry of Magic has all but declared open war on our Government in Exile. Our job is to meet with the moderates in the French Ministry and see what, if anything, can be done to get them back to a more neutral position."
Ambassador Howe nodded and returned to his seat. "Yes, well, my staff, along with help from our Department M, have put together a briefing on the people you'll be meeting tomorrow. Tonight, however, I'd like to extend an invitation for you to join us for a welcoming bash. We don't have many opportunities to celebrate here, so we grab anything we can."
Collington nodded, looking pleased. "We'd be honored, Mr. Ambassador. May we bring our wives with us?"
Howe looked surprised for a moment, then he smiled widely. "Splendid! Since you brought your wives along, we'll see about getting some music. The ladies do love a good dance. I know this seems a bit odd, but with all that is going on at home we look for any excuse to take our minds off the troubles back home."
Neville relaxed. Ginny was going to love this!
Direction de la Surveillance du Territoire, 7 rue Nélaton, Paris...
"Cigarette?" asked the man.
Amhar Coeur de Lion shook his head. His trip from Ireland to France had been a harrowing one and it showed. He had dropped weight and his eyes were ringed with dark circles. He hadn't the power to directly apparate to France, so he'd had to move covertly until he could purchase a portkey. The word on the street in Ireland was that both Marne Murphy and the Irish MLE were looking for him.
He had spent nearly seventy percent of his available cash getting this far. He'd made landfall in Normandy using an illegal portkey, then he'd contacted some friends he knew in the government. That had led him to this place.
The DST, or Department of Territorial Surveillance, was in-charge of the internal security of France and the organization closely tied to the French Ministry of Magic. Not quite as violent as the DGSE, the DST still had a formidable reputation. It's opponents routinely vanished without a trace.
Amhar looked around at the bleak room. His friends had assured him that they would take good care of him, but his surroundings failed to support those assurances. The building was old, and this particular room looked like as though it hadn't been painted since the building was first built, back in 1944.
The man across from him had cold eyes. He looked at Amhar as though he was judging him.
He puffed idly on his cigarette and watched Amhar. After ten minutes of silence, he finally spoke. "What is it you want from us, Monsieur?"
"I can help you," Amhar said, seizing the chance to prove he was useful. "I know things about the British Ministry that you don't know."
The man leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. So, the report was right, he thought to himself. This coward is willing to turn traitor.
"Pardon, Monsieur, but what makes you think you have information we are interested in?" asked the man as he casually snubbed out his cigarette.
Amhar leaned forward and placed his hands on the table. "I know things, things that will interested your people. For all his holier-than-thou attitude, Potter is no better than anyone else. He is harboring dark creatures and those using dark magic!"
"Intéressant," said the man, sound anything but. "But what have you, really? You have accusations, yes? But where is your proof?"
Amhar pulled back slightly. "I am no one's fool, sir. I have brought the proof with me, but it's safely hidden. And don't think you can send someone to toss my room at the hotel for it, either. I've hidden it someplace safe. I can help you. I know things beyond what Potter is doing, things about the current Minister and her staff."
The man lifted a sheet of parchment. "Yes, we have a delegation from your Ministry here now. They arrived early this morning. A Geoffrey Collington, Chadwick Talbot, and a Neville Longbottom."
Amhar looked up sharply. "Longbottom? He's here? Did he come alone?"
"No, Monsieur Longbottom is accompanied by Madame Longbottom," replied the man.
Amhar leaned back on his chair and smiled for the first time in over a week. "I think you will find it to your advantage to hear what I'm about to tell you, my friend," he said softly.
Hotel Napoleon, Paris...
Ginny walked into the large suite, humming softly to herself. She and the other women had gone shopping and she was grateful for their help. She had never payed much attention to muggles, much to her father's disappointment, and that lack was coming home to roost here in Paris. Geoffrey had called his wife, Cecilia, earlier in the day and told her that they'd each need a cocktail dress for dinner and dancing later tonight.
Ginny nearly panicked at the thought. Neville had tried on several occasions to make her understand that while the Longbottom's weren't as rich as the Potters, they were still fairly well off. In fact, Neville despaired over her attitude of pinching every knut until it screamed. He'd obtained a Gringotts card and told her to use it, but she was still reluctant to spend any money. Today, he'd simply contacted Cecilia and asked her to see that Ginny purchased a dress she looked good in.
After he had talked to Cecilia, he'd made a few other arrangements.
Ginny looked around the suite and shook her head. She was surprised that the Ministry had spent so much on such lavish accommodations for her and Neville. She didn't know that Neville had upgraded their rooms.
Walking into the bedroom, she laid her dress across the bed and opened the shopping bag she held. Taking out the new shoes and evening bag she'd bought to go with her dress, she placed them both next to the bed and smiled.
Thinking of taking a shower, she moved towards the bathroom, only to stop when someone knocked on the door of the suite.
Frowning, she drew her wand and walked to the door. "Who is it?" she called.
"Pardon, Madam, but your husband scheduled you for a masseuse before your party this evening," said a female voice.
Surprised, Ginny opened the door and a strong looking older woman bustled in, pushing a large portable table in front of her.
"Come, m'cherie. Your husband, he wants you... relâché?" the woman paused and thought hard for a moment. "Relaxed, no?"
Ginny nodded mutely, surprised at this sudden turn of events. The older woman smiled at her. "Mon, but you are a pretty one. Now, come, get undressed and up on the table," she said, then handed Ginny a large towel.
A few minutes later, Ginny was all but purring under the knowledgeable fingers of the older woman. The masseuse kept up a running dialog, prodding Ginny in half English, half French, to reveal she was a newlywed and here with her husband on diplomatic business.
An hour later, Ginny was firmly told to go take her bath because the hotel stylist would be up in an hour and a half to help her with her hair.
Bemused, she wandered into the opulent bath room. Filling the tub with hot water, she sank into the heat and moaned with pleasure.
When Neville arrived back at the suite two hours later, he had time enough to drop his briefcase before catching the redhead who flung herself into his arms.
Ginny, half dressed and wearing a plastic hair cap to protect her styled hair, grabbed him in a hug and kissed him so hard she left him weak in the knees.
Finally, she backed away and glared at him. "Neville Longbottom, just what do you think you're doing, spending all that money?"
Neville blinked and slowly came back to earth. Then he scowled. "Didn't you enjoy being pampered?" he asked.
Ginny crossed her arms and huffed at him. "That isn't the point here."
Neville steered her over to a chair and pulled her down into his lap. "Oh, I think it is, Ginevra. This has been a sore point for us since before we married. Look, we may not be as rich as Harry, but we're still rich. I've told you this before, but it doesn't seem to sink in.
"My share of the Longbottom inheritance comes to some twenty-one million galleons. Twenty-one, love, and that's grown by nearly a million galleons since Harry let me invest in Potter's Portals," he said, then he hugged her to him. "You grew up in a family where money was tight. We might not command the attention of Gringotts the way the Potters do, but we're well off, Ginny. You don't have to make your own bread if you don't want to. You certainly don't need to squeeze every knut like it's our last.
"What happened to you today is simply because I wanted you to feel pampered and taken care of. It's not something that will happen everyday. But I wanted you to know how much I love you."
Ginny's expression softened as he spoke and she slid a hand up to caress his cheek. "You silly man," she whispered. "You don't have to spend a fortune on me to tell me how much you love me."
"I know, but that isn't going to stop me," he replied, grinning. He knew this was one argument she couldn't win. Ginny had blasted into his life, forever changing him. He marveled at the changes his friends had brought about in him and smiled to himself. If only Great Uncle Algie could see me now, he thought. His great uncle had fled the country when the troubles started, moving in with a distant relation in Canada.
Laughing, she poked him in the chest. "You need to get washed and dressed. And don't drink too much wine tonight. I have plans for thanking you later that require you being awake."
Ginny climbed off his lap and stood up, hands on her hips, giving him a mock glare. It would have been more impressive if she weren't dressed in her bra and panties, and trying to hide a smile.
"Hey, that happened only once," he protested. "Besides, I was helping Draco. You know I'd do anything for a friend."
"Yes, I know, but that doesn't include drinking two bottles of wine," she said sharply. "Now, go get ready."
He stood and laughed softly, then gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before heading into the bedroom. Once inside, he frowned, looking at the two trunks. Ginny had split their stuff between the two and he still wasn't sure why she thought he needed a trunk all to himself.
He opened the trunk and reached in, only to pull out an oar. He stopped and stared at it. An oar? he mused. Placing the oar off to one side, he reached inside the trunk again and withdrew a ski pole.
Neville frowned and picked up the oar. Carrying the odd equipment, he walked out into the living room again. "Gin? Why do we have a ski pole and an oar with us?"
Ginny looked up from the book she had been reading. "You know, I wondered that myself. I made the list of things to bring with us like Hermione suggested, then Remus suggested items to carry in case of an emergency. I thought he was putting one over on me, but even Tonks agreed it was a good idea and started suggesting things to put on the list. Then Harry made a few suggestions and Hermione got into the act, as well. Although, now that I think about it, I have no clue what kind of emergency would require Hogwarts: A History."
Neville made a strangling noise in his throat, then he shook his head ruefully. "Honey, you've been had again."
Ginny's expression darkened as she contemplated her response in her never ending prank war. Her pranks were fiendishly clever and usually quite embarrassing. Her problem was that no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't see a prank coming even if it waved a flag and blew a whistle. Her brothers had learned not to prank her because of her return salvos, but Remus was usually capable of side stepping her return attacks, letting others get caught in them.
Neville walked back into the bedroom hoping to find his suit in the trunk full of strange stuff.
Padfoot Manor (Feb 5th)...
Harry stared down at the parchments in front of him as everyone filed into the room. This was their first morning briefing since his illness. He had been mortified to discover the extent of the damage he had caused. Tonks' failed morphing had taken all day to wear off, and Crookshanks still had his wings, though only because he flew away whenever someone approached him. Hermione already had a plan for capturing the flying feline, but privately he thought her plan resembled something he'd once seen in a cartoon.
Surprisingly, the incident with the airplane turned out to be the easiest item to fix. Dan's plan worked exactly as predicted and the pilot and co-pilot were being hailed as international heroes. No, the damage done to the manor was where the problem lay. During one of his sneezes, he had conjured a whole new wing to the manor. The elves weren't pleased by the sudden addition of twenty new bedrooms, and they were still waiting for an engineering company to survey the new wing to see if it was structurally stable.
He sighed and looked up at his grinning friends. He knew what was coming.
"So, Harry, pull down any airplanes I need to know about?" Amelia asked with a laugh.
Caleb, Draco and Remus chuckled wickedly. Harry groaned and placed his head into his hands.
"I'm not going to live this down am I?" he asked, his voice muffled by his hands.
He looked up and was surprised to see Charles Stanton entering the room. He took a seat behind Caleb.
"Shall we get on with the briefing, then? You can hold your insults and jokes until later," Harry said.
"Very well," Amelia said. "But remind me later. I think I still have a few jokes to use."
Remus snorted in his tea, spraying himself and trying to contain his laughter. This was a side of Amelia she rarely showed. Harry grinned at the Marauder's discomfort.
"The Irish have returned Miss Quirke to Haven Hospital where Healer August is still trying to help her. The Irish tried but failed. She's insane and cannot stand trial, and her ability to control people makes her extremely dangerous. The Irish felt that perhaps the close proximity of her parents might help," O'Dalley said, getting the meeting underway.
Harry sighed and bowed his head slightly. "I wish we had known about Orla before we destroyed the dagger. We might have done it differently and helped her in the process."
"Harry," Hermione chided gently. "You know we've talked about this."
He looked at her defiantly. "Yes, I know. We can't save everyone. But she was safe, dammit!" he exclaimed, then he pounded his fist on the desk. "She was safe in the school, away from the war!"
"Yes, she was safe, Harry," Charles Stanton said calmly. He leaned back and stretched out his legs in front of him and his expression grew thoughtful. "I don't think there are many instances in history where anyone has done what you've done. The evacuation at Dunkirk or the evacuation of the Dutch Jews in World War II might be close. Nearly overnight, most of the Jews were moved, just hours ahead of the Nazi arrest teams. In both of those instances, people were moved to a place of relative safety.
"That's the key word, Harry, relative. Orla Quirke was a smart witch who, through no fault of her own, found herself involved in the war. The war sought her out deliberately and destroyed her, despite her being 'safe'. You and your people have done something unique and it's only been done a few times in history. You moved a small, but significant portion of the Wizarding population of Britain to safety. I've seen the reports. When you count in the people rescued from the camps you have brought nearly twelve percent of the wizards in Britain to safety. And that, my young friend, is nothing to sneeze at."
Harry peered at Charles and wondered if the comment was a hidden dig at him. With a mental shrug, he decided it wasn't. Charles had a different type of humor and dry wit wasn't part of it. He nodded to his American friend and turned back to Amelia.
"What's next?"
"I've heard from Geoffrey Collington. He's the head of our mission to Paris. They've met several times with moderate members of the French Ministry. So far, they have very little to show for their efforts. The simple fact is the moderates are heavily outnumbered and they are already supporting us. Mr. Longbottom filed a concise and compelling analysis concerning the state of the French Ministry and their interaction with the Muggle government, which frankly has me astounded. He's picked up on nuances that Collington and Ambassador Howe have missed entirely."
Amelia frowned and pulled out a parchment. "He also sent a coded message that we haven't been able to decode. It's addressed to you, Harry."
Harry reached across the desk, but Amelia held the note close to her and looked at him with a little anger in her eyes. "We're suppose to be working together. This sort of thing sets a bad precedent."
He leaned back in his chair and blinked in surprise. "You are right, Amelia. I asked him to send me a report of whatever he felt like reporting on. I'm surprised he coded it, and not surprised that your people couldn't break it. I apologize for this and I'll talk to him about it."
Amelia's eyes widened. She glanced at Hermione, who stared back with calm eyes and a blank expression. His stressing of the words told her exactly who was responsible for that code. It bothered her that the Brotherhood had seen fit to devise a secure communications that even her people couldn't break. Reluctantly, she held the note out to him.
He took the parchment and muttered something that sounded like a mix of English, Gaelic and Latin.
Harry scanned the letter quickly, then handed it to Hermione. She made a quick copy before passing it to Amelia.
"Neville is worried that the French Ministry has too much control over the muggle government. Part of his evidence for this is the inclusion of muggle security officers in the detail that has been tailing their group," Harry said while Amelia read.
"He's also concerned about the safety of their mission. They attended a welcoming party at the French Ministry the second night they were there. He reports that during the party they were subjected to multiple scans that were hard to detect and nearly impossible to determine what they were looking for. He says it's almost certain that their charmed objects have probably been detected."
"When are they due to come home?" Remus asked, worriedly.
"Not for another three days. They're supposed to leave for Haven on the eighth," Amelia replied absently. She was rereading Neville's letter again.
"Can you recall them early?" Remus pressed.
Amelia frowned. "Not really, Remus. Remember, this is a diplomatic mission. Recalling them early can be misinterpreted."
Remus turned to Harry. "I don't like this, it smells wrong."
Harry nodded unhappily.
"What are we worrying about? They all have diplomatic passports and diplomatic immunity," offered Hermione.
"Passports and immunity. Paper and words. This is the same group of people who put an international warrant out for my arrest despite my passport, and my Ambassador status. We're looking at what? The potential for at least six hostages?" Harry asked bluntly.
"Twelve, Harry. Don't forget the DPG detail we have watching over them," Caleb said.
Suddenly the tension in the room skyrocketed.
"Would they do that? Just to get at Harry?" Hermione asked breathlessly.
"In a heartbeat," Amelia answered, then she looked at Caleb. "What do you recommend?"
Caleb looked at Harry. "Does the British Embassy in Paris have a portal yet?"
Harry summoned a book from the shelf and flipped through it. "Yes," he said after a moment. "Neville and I decided it might not be a bad idea to have one there before they left, so we installed one two days before their arrival. According to my records, it's now hooked up to the Embassy Network, the Ministry, the Operations Center and here."
"Good," Caleb replied, then he turned back to Amelia. "Contact Collington and have him bring the entire team, including the wives, to the Embassy. Call it a break to consult with the Ministry. Make sure everyone in the group knows where that portal is, how to work it and, most importantly, how to apparate to the Embassy."
He leaned back on his chair and grinned mirthlessly. "If something does happen, they'll be able to get away by apparating to the Embassy and using the portal."
Harry looked up from his desk. "I like it. It's not perfect, but it's better than doing nothing."
"Some of my boys have experience in hostage operations, Commander," Charles Stanton told Caleb. "I can ask them to sit down with your diplomatic protection people, maybe work up some extra training."
Caleb made a note on some parchment. "Sounds good, Chuck," he replied, then paused thoughtfully. "I know you didn't come here to discuss this. What's on your mind?"
Charles looked over at Harry. "Do you mind?" he asked.
Harry shook his head. "No, not at all Chuck."
He smiled briefly then turned serious. "American command has taken your request for the formation of a command staff for the American and Canadian forces seriously. Because of that, I'm being recalled to the States to take over as nominal head of the combined forces. I'm relinquishing command of Stanton's raiders over to you, Caleb, effective immediately."
Harry smiled and stood. Walking around his desk, he held out his hand. "It couldn't have happened to a nicer guy. Congratulations, Chuck," he exclaimed.
Stanton blushed, but shook Harry's hand. "Yeah, the wife is pretty happy about it. She misses her family. Besides, this isn't goodbye. I'll be back in thirty days when we begin planning."
Harry looked sheepish. "I entirely forgot!" he said, turning to Hermione. "Let's put together a schedule that will slowly increase the amount of training the Brotherhood Brigade is doing. Figure we want to max out the training at twenty four hours a week for now."
Caleb looked up from talking with Stanton. "Can she do the same thing for the Raiders, as well?"
Harry glanced at Hermione. She looked surprised, but nodded eagerly.
"Be careful, Harry. I just might steal her away as my adjutant," Caleb said with a grin.
"I'm willing to help you, Commander," Hermione said sweetly. "But no one steals me away from my Colonel."
"If there is nothing else, we'll call it quits for now. Caleb, I have an idea I want to knock around with you in case things do go sour in France. I'll be by around three to talk to you about it, if that's convenient?" Harry asked.
"Three's fine," Caleb replied, while packing up his stuff.
Harry's study, several hours later...
Harry and Dan looked up from little figure on Harry's desk when the door opened and Hermione stepped inside.
"Are you busy?" she asked.
Dan scooped up the figure and put it in his pocket, then stood quickly.
"No, I think we're done here," Harry replied, his eyes darting towards Dan.
He nodded slightly and then smiled at his daughter. "I better go see what your mother's doing. She's found an elf that loves to swap recipes. The last time I left her alone, she was busy trading recipes for corned beef. She knows I hate the stuff, no matter how she cooks it," he said with a shudder.
Hermione watched her father exit the room in a hurry and her eyebrows raised in speculation. Then she turned on Harry. "Alright, just what are you and he up to?" she said, placing her hands on her hips.
He laughed. "I'll tell you, but you have to keep it a secret. He's trying to make a present for your Mum."
Hermione blinked in surprise. "That's right, her birthday is coming up! So, what's he trying to make?"
"He wants to enchant a stuffed unicorn, but he only has the one he picked up in New York. I tried to tell him he could buy a stuffed unicorn that would do what he wants it to do, but he says it means more if he makes it. He was impressed with the animated dragon we bought for the Johansen children."
Hermione smiled and sat on the edge of his desk. "Well, he's right. She'll enjoy it more if he makes it. But you weren't using a unicorn."
Harry laughed. "No, we weren't. He's got a bag of army men he bought somewhere. We're using them to figure out the layering of charms and enchantments. He doesn't want to risk ruining the unicorn he has."
"Harry," Hermione said, turning serious. "Do you really think Neville and the others are in danger?"
He leaned back in his chair and reviewed the information he had. Finally, he shook his head. "No, I don't think he is, unless a more dangerous element takes control of their Ministry. Right now, the people in charge are passively supporting Voldemort. It's not so much ideological leanings, I don't think. They're doing it because they know it upsets us."
She looked at him incredulously. "Your saying the French are being obstructionist simply because it annoys the British?"
He nodded. "And it angers the Americans. They get to annoy two of their greatest rivals simply by dragging their feet. The only problem is, this time the French find themselves leading a parade that no one else joined. They have received universal condemnation for their policies, and their arrest warrant for me was rejected by every member nation of the Avalonian Council. Their policy is isolating them internationally. Some nations have gone so far as to imposed tariffs and extra duties on their exports."
Hermione shook her head, hearing her husband talk about international politics. It is something she never would have dreamed possible in their first year. Suddenly a thought occurred to her and she giggled.
He eyed her suspiciously. "What's so funny?" he asked.
"I was just thinking about a certain first year Harry Potter and imagined him spouting off on international politics."
He winced. "Merlin, I was so naive back then. I thought Dumbledore was never wrong."
"And Ron was your very best friend."
Harry paused and his expression turned reflective. "No, I can honestly say I didn't think that. But only because there were things in his world I couldn't relate to. Ron was my best friend, true, but so were you. I don't think either of you was placed any higher than the other."
Hermione looked hesitant. "Do you miss him?"
Harry looked down at his desk, his hands clasped together tightly. "Yes, I do," he whispered. "I know what he became, but I'm certain that he was my friend, at least for a while. I miss my friend."
He looked up at her and his eyes flared with power. "I curse this damn war and what it's done to us! I know it's had some good. It brought us together, but Ron would still be alive if it weren't for this damn war and Dumbledore."
He stood and walked over to the window, staring out.
"You don't know for that a fact," she said gently. "Ron was terribly insecure about himself and tended to react, usually badly, rather than think things through. Yes, he probably would be alive now if it weren't for Voldemort, but that's not your fault. I miss him, too. Sometimes I want someone to fight with, and it's not the same with you. The fights between Ron and I made me angry, but they didn't really mean anything. With you, it's different. I don't want to fight with you."
He continued to look out the window, but he smiled to himself.
"It's the bond you created. You know that, don't you?" he sent to her.
She looked up at him sharply. "What do you mean?"
"You and I are so mixed together, that I sometimes wonder where Harry ends and Hermione begins, love. Our bond did that. We don't fight because each has a part of the other inside us. Oh, we may get angry, and exchange hard words sometimes, but we're drawn back together by the bond. The piece of you inside me makes it so I hurt when your hurting. And the piece of me inside you does the same. It's the reason why even when we're angry, we still work out our differences."
"So you're saying we can't even have a good fight once in a while?" she sent back, sounding almost disappointed.
He turned away from the window and walked over to her. He brushed the back of his hand against her cheek. "I'm sorry. But honestly, I'm glad we don't fight like that. I know it can't always be perfect, but I'm going to try."
Hermione quickly stood and embraced him. "I'll settle for you just being my Harry. Perfect is a nice goal, but you're too good, Harry. You spoil me enough as it is. I can live without perfect."
She held him against her and slowly slid her hands around to cup his bum. She realized that the conversation had brought up some bad memories for him and a little groping would lighten his mood.
He buried his head against the nape of her neck. "You minx," he sent with a mental chuckle.
The Bastille, Paris (Feb 7th)...
The people of France took pride in the architecture of their country. There were parts of Paris that were truly breathtaking in scope and beauty. And there were other parts of the country that no self-respecting Frenchman would admit existed.
The chamber was hidden deep in the Bastille and only accessible through a series of trapped tunnels. Few knew of its existence outside of the government and fewer still would admit to it. The chamber was dank and cold. It was a bleak place where bleak business was conducted in hushed tones. It predated the Bastille by several hundred years and, in times past, Kings and Princes visited this place and came away humbled.
This was where the shadow government resided and it was where France had been ruled despite it's monarchies and it's revolutions. Louie XIV had came here to borrow money, and the Vichy Government was crippled even before it began. The members of the shadow government influenced France, sometimes covertly and sometimes openly through individuals. Napoleon had been an agent of the shadow government.
In the past hundred years the makeup of the shadow government had slowly changed as it became more aligned with the Wizarding world. That didn't mean that the Ministry of Magic was controlling things. It meant that, for good or for ill, Wizards were running France at the moment.
One such wizard was Jean LaRoche, Inspector General of the Ministry's Department of Magical Law Enforcement and an official operative of the Direction de la Surveillance du Territoire.
LaRoche stepped into the chamber and calmly walked to the center of the room. The arena style seating was carved out of the natural rock of the chamber, making the seating cold and uncomfortable. LaRoche wasn't there for comfort, however.
Standing in the center of the arena, he couldn't see the occupants and they couldn't see his face. An obscuring charm took care of that. He could only hear them. Members arrived and left singly, and no one knew who their fellow members were, except for the leader.
"Report," intoned a voice.
"To date, I have met three times with the Englishman, Coeur de Lion. He is an arrogant fool, but one with useful information."
"How so?" asked a voice from the opposite side of the chamber.
"He described the make-up of the mission sent by the Haven Government exactly. He even went as far as to point out personality flaws that we can take advantage of. But I must caution all, up until now we have been passive in our support of the Dark Lord. If we move against this Haven mission, we will be committing ourselves."
"Is this an acceptable risk?" called someone.
"Yes. I want to know that as well. What will the international community think of our actions?" asked another.
"Monsieur Malfoy is asking for more visible support, and he begs that we send him our Necromancer or find him one," called a third voice.
"Brothers! Please. We have much to discuss, but let the report be finished first," said the voice of the leader.
The room fell silent and LaRoche nodded in acknowledgment of the command. "I have arranged for the English to extend their trip by at least two days. That will give us time to make our decision and decide what to do."
"What will you do if we decide for Lord Voldemort?" called a voice.
LaRoche made a dismissive gesture. "Should the council decide, then we shall detain the English mission on a charge of espionage. I have men ready to plant the necessary proof at my say so. And once detained, we can arrange to drag our feet legally. If we are to do this thing, then we must revoke the recognition of the British Government. That will instantly negate their diplomatic status. Then we can do with them as we wish. Interrogate them? Send them to Britain?" he said, then shrugged. "I would say get what information we can from them, then send them to Voldemort as proof of our support."
"Risky. What of the response from Haven? And what of Potter?" called a voice.
"Potter is but one man, and barely a man at that," LaRoche answered easily.
"That one man killed hundreds and destroyed the British Ministry building in the process," said another voice in protest.
"Yes, but he caught them by surprise. Honestly, what do you think he will do? Storm our Ministry?" LaRoche answered with a broad smile.
A ripple of laughter ran through the chamber.
"And what of the other Englishman? This Coeur de Lion fellow?" asked someone.
"I have him contained in one of our safe houses. I will learn all I can from him. Once his usefulness is at an end, we shall do something creative with him."
Another laugh ran through the chamber.
"Excellent report," called the leader. "Does the council wish to vote on this now?"
LaRoche moved away from the center of the arena, taking a spot on a stone bench while the debate raged in the chamber.
17 Rue Dupin, Paris...
Amhar paced nervously. He had been holed up in this little ratty apartment, loaned to him by an acquaintance he knew in the French Ministry, for nearly a week now. The apartment was stocked with food, albeit food he was unused to preparing himself. He could hold his own in the kitchen, even if he rarely did, but some of this stuff he just didn't know how to cook.
He was reluctant to go out much, and he didn't have much money. Besides, Paris had become one of the places that people fleeing Britain flocked too. The French didn't want them here and they encouraged them to move on, but they did allow people time to catch their breath. As such, he didn't want to stumble upon someone from Haven here in Paris. He already knew about the Haven diplomatic mission, but he wasn't sure if anyone else was in the city.
The little contact he had had with the gentleman from Department of Territorial Surveillance didn't make him feel very comfortable. The man seemed to be testing him. On his second day in Paris, he had spent the day with Monsieur LaRoche, describing Potter and his cronies in detail. The only thing he got for his efforts beside a meal and a headache from the man's cigarettes, was information that the Irish had placed a warrant out on him. Right now, they only wanted him for questioning in the death of Andrew Korwin. It seems that Lugo wasn't cooperating with authorities in their investigation and his lawyer was preventing the use of Veritaserum on him.
"Hallo? Is anyone home?" called a voice.
Amhar whirled around and stared at the face in the fireplace. He breathed a slight sigh of relief seeing it was LaRoche again calling from the floo.
"Monsieur LaRoche, what a pleasant surprise!" Amhar said.
"Oui! I have talked with my... partners and they are grateful for your information and help. They said they would like to hire you on as a consultant to aid them in dealing with the British. I have been told to give you this," he said, then his hand appeared out of the fireplace, holding a small bag filled with coins.
Amhar greedily accepted the bag.
"My partners, they say there will be more coming. This is just a small advance with their thanks for the information you've provided thus far."
Amhar mentally weighed the bag, figuring it contained at least a thousand galleons. It's a start, he thought.
"In a few days, Monsieur, I will call upon you again. We will need your expertise to help ask the right questions."
"I am at your disposal, sir," Amhar said.
"Excellent, Monsieur. I will contact you. In the meantime, enjoy your time in our city," LaRoche said, then he pulled his head back out of the fire.
Amhar stared at the empty fireplace for a moment, then opened the pouch and started counting. It was a little better than he expected, nearly fifteen hundred galleons. He smiled and fingered the coins happily. First stop was a store that sold good English food.
Office of the Minister of Magic, Haven...
"Come in, Michael," Amelia called.
O'Dalley entered the room looking rather smug with himself.
Amelia leaned back on her chair and looked at him carefully. "I take it you have some interesting news for me? Merlin knows I could do with something good right about now."
O'Dalley deflated a bit. "Well, good is relative I suppose, Minister. But we have uncovered some interesting information with the help of the Irish. For starters, it seems that Andrew Korwin was working for the Irish Unspeakables."
"Oh?" Amelia asked with interested.
O'Dalley nodded. "They haven't been as forthcoming as I'd like, but I've learned that Korwin approached them shortly after accepting a bribe from Coeur de Lion. Apparently, the good Councilor had a conscience attack and offered to dig up evidence on Marne Murphy.
"It's a tangled web, but it worked like this. Coeur de Lion bribed Korwin into helping him using money obtained from Ms. Murphy. Ms. Murphy runs the local drug cartel here in Ireland, but more to the point, the Irish Unspeakables believe she was sending money and supplies to Voldemort and his forces.
"Coeur de Lion bribed Korwin, then sent pensieve memories of the event to Murphy, who then blackmailed Korwin into aiding Coeur de Lion in his quest to bring down Lord Potter and his people."
Amelia shook her head and eyed O'Dalley. There was still a piece of this puzzle missing. "And how did we come by this information if the Irish haven't been forthcoming about it?" she asked.
O'Dalley leaned back on his chair and grinned broadly. "Ah, now that's the beauty of the entire affair. Our friend Korwin was, first and foremost, an historian who had an overwhelming opinion of his own self worth. He kept a journal detailing everything. His meetings with Coeur de Lion, his meetings with the Irish, copies of his directions from Murphy, everything. The Irish left the book behind because it was coded and charmed so that only he could read that. My boys were playing with trying to break the charms when that fellow, Bill Weasley, stopped by the office.
"He waved his wand a few times and handed us back an uncoded book! Apparently he used to be a curse breaker for Gringotts," O'Dalley said.
Amelia grinned. There was nothing better than a case that a subject blows wide open. "So, where do we go from here, Michael?"
He frowned. "Well, legally, things are complicated. Coeur de Lion is guilty of treason and acting as an agent of the enemy of the state. However those are British charges, which the Irish, as much as they might sympathize, will not levy against him. Right now, the best the Irish are willing to do is put a warrant out for him to question him in the death of Andrew Korwin and the attack on Murphy's man.
"To be truthful, Minister, I don't think there's much we can do until after the war is done and you've moved back to Britain.".
His comment reminded Amelia that O'Dalley, as helpful and as loyal as he was, was still an Irish national and probably would remain in Haven when the war ended.
She sighed and nodded unhappily. The information he had brought to her was valuable, but couldn't be used until they were back on British soil, enforcing British law.
"You've done a wonderful job, Michael. You and your people are to be commended. Make sure you tell them I said so. There might not be much we can do right now, but as soon as we're home, I'll preside over Coeur de Lion's treason trial personally."
O'Dalley bobbed his head. The praise felt good, even if the case left a slight sour taste in his mouth.
"I'll pass the word to the boys, Minister," he said as he stood up to leave.
Haven Hospital (Feb 9th)...
Sylvia August looked up from the report on her desk when someone knocked on her office door. Taking off her glasses, she rubbed her aching eyes. "Come!" she called.
Remus Lupin pushed the door open and stepped in. "You asked to see me, Sylvia?"
"Thank you for coming, Remus. Close the door and take a seat," she told him, waving him to a chair.
Once seated, Remus examined the healer closely, then conjured a tea pot and two cups. Filling one, he offered the hot beverage to the older woman with a smile. "You look as though you could use this. Long night?" he asked.
"A few of them, actually," she said tiredly. Taking the offered cup, she sipped tea for a moment, then sighed. "Thanks, I needed that."
"What you need is several hours sleep," he told her as he filled his own cup.
She waved the idea away. "I still have some work to do, first."
"Since you asked to speak with me, I'm assuming I have some part to play in whatever it is you're working on."
"I think so, yes. I need to know as much as possible about Ginny Longbottom's talent in detecting and neutralizing dark magic."
Remus stiffened slightly. "I'm not sure I can tell you anything useful, Sylvia. Many things concerning the Brotherhood are classified."
"Yes, yes, I know that," she said testily. "But you cannot expect me to forget what she was able to do with the dagger. And don't even think about taking the memory from me, young man," she said, her eyes narrowed dangerously. "I have a very sick child in the hospital and Mrs. Longbottom may be her only hope."
"Miss Quirke?" he asked, concerned.
"Yes. She's mad, Remus. Because our healers don't have the experience needed to reach her, I called in a colleague from New Zealand. His name is Roger Scott, and he's a mind healer who specializes in reaching and healing the insane. He and I have worked with the girl for several days. He's been able to reach her a few times, but only briefly. And when he does, she begs for death. If we're understanding her correctly, the taint from the dagger is agonizing to her, and none of the pain killers we give her are helping."
"Can't you keep her unconscious?"
"We've tried, but whatever power the dagger had now resides in the girl. It's fought through everything we've given her. Last night, we did something I've always found distasteful. When the potions and spells failed to put her under, we stunned her. Early this morning, I was notified that she's fighting through even that. We're keeping her under for only thirty minutes at a time and it's taking two people to stun her."
"Is it true that leaving her conscious is dangerous?" Remus asked quietly.
"Oh, yes. On the night she was taken into custody, one of the constables did not heed the warning Michael O'Dalley gave him. When O'Dalley and his assistant, Barney, arrived, they found the man with his own belt around his neck, hanging from the window of Orla's holding cell. Ignoring the man's wand, she'd found a pocket knife in his coat and was merrily slicing the flesh from his legs and licking the blood from her hands.
"We were able to save him," she continued, "and he's since given his report to Michael, who told me about the event, mostly as a warning I think. It seems the man didn't believe that a mere child could have that much power. He found out differently. She managed to take control of him utterly. He reported that, despite the knowledge that he was killing himself, he followed her orders happily, even eagerly.
"With that information in mind, we've kept her unconscious as often as possible, and no one is to enter her room alone," Sylvia concluded.
"What do you want Ginny to do?"
"She was able to contain the dagger's power long enough for it to be removed. I'm hoping she can do the same with the taint now infecting the girl."
Remus frowned. "Contain it where? The dagger has been destroyed."
"I know that. I was hoping that we could force it into some other object or even isolate it within Orla. I don't understand Mrs. Longbottom's talent enough to form any sort of plan. That's why I asked you here today."
Remus looked into Sylvia's eyes, his expression sorrowful."Without the dagger, I'm not sure it can be forced from the girl. And isolating the taint within her is only a temporary solution, if it works at all. Evil such as that can never be contained forever. It will break free and consume her."
"There are many people who feel the same about those stricken with Lycanthropy," she told him gently. "Yet we both know that is not the case."
He shook his head. "Lycanthropy is a disease, Sylvia. We can isolate the virus that causes it. Unless I've missed something lately, the same cannot be said for evil. If I'm wrong, tell me. I'm sure Harry will be delighted to learn we can start inoculating people against Voldemort and his followers."
Sylvia growled. "Don't get flip with me, Remus. I have a very sick little girl who needs help! If you don't like my idea, fine. Give me a better one!"
"I don't have one. But I don't think your idea will work, either. In any case, I'll talk to Ginny when she gets back."
"Gets back?"
"Yes. Neville went to France on government business and Ginny went with him. I'll talk to her about Orla when she comes back."
"Thank you, Remus," she said, smiling with relief.
"Don't thank me yet, Sylvia," he told her seriously. "Keep in mind that even if Ginny agrees to try to help the girl, she may not be successful."
Padfoot Manor...
Harry leapt from the flying carpet and grinned wildly at Dan Granger. There had been a break in the weather and for the first time in over a week the day was sunny and the temperatures were almost comfortable.
"See? Like I told you, it's like using a skateboard," Dan said.
"Or maybe surfing, Dan. It's unlike anything I've ever tried. I can see how the carpet is safe for family use, but when you're alone on that thing," Harry said, trailing off in wonder.
The carpet had been a Christmas gift from Sheik Hosary of the Egyptian Ministry of Magic. It had two primary modes of operation, single flier and family mode. In family mode, everyone sat on the carpet and one person controlled it from the rear. The carpet was spelled to prevent radical maneuvers in family mode, and no one could fall off, thanks to the sticking charms.
In single flier mode, the carpet was controlled by one person standing in the center of the carpet and shifting their weight in order to change direction and altitude.
It had been Harry's first real flight on the new carpet. Dan had used it several times, as he preferred it to a broom. Emma, however, wouldn't use either mode of transportation, choosing instead to keep her feet on the ground. She was perfectly happy to apparate, now that Hermione had taught her. Harry had laughed when he'd learned of Emma's aversion to flying. He now understood where Hermione's fear came from, though both women were perfectly comfortable on muggle aircraft.
Harry walked around the carpet a few times, examining it. The red and blue rug hovered in front of him obediently.
"What are you thinking, Harry?" Dan asked.
"I'm just curious. If we could make the underside of the carpet armored, could we use it in combat?"
Dan laughed and clapped Harry on the back. "I think we have enough problems fighting on the ground, Harry. Can you imagine Hermione's reaction if you asked her to fight from one of these things?"
He winced and grinned ruefully. "I guess it was silly of me," he mused, then he turned when he heard an elf pop in. The little elf snapped off a salute, then handed Harry a folded piece of parchment.
"Thank you," he said in a distracted tone, reading the note.
The elf nodded and popped away.
When Harry frowned, Dan grew concerned. "Bad news?"
"I'm not sure. It's from Amelia, informing me that the mission to France is being extended again. This is the second extension they've requested. I have a bad feeling about this, Dan, but there has been no overt threat we can point to. It's odd. Just when it seems as though the delegation is making no progress and preparing to leave France, there's a minor breakthrough and the trip's extended again."
"What do your instincts tell you, Harry?" Dan asked.
Harry sat on a lawn chair and looked up at his father-in-law. "That it's a trap."
Dan sat on a chair facing Harry and pulled out his wand. He cast a large warming charm, heating up the area around them. "Can you do anything about this now?"
Harry shook his head. "No, not until something happens. We have several plans in place depending on what happens, but this is really Amelia's bailiwick. I can't overstep my authority and order Neville and Ginny home."
"No, you can't order them home, but can't you send them a message, warning them to be doubly cautious?" Dan asked.
Harry sighed. "Already done, twice."
"Then you've done all you can do. Worrying about it won't make it better and will only make you sick. Lord knows you don't want Hermione worrying about you being ill again," he said with a grin.
Harry grimaced. He loved Hermione, but she was downright tyrannical when he was ill. He bounced to his feet. "Maybe I'll go talk to Eocho," he mused.
Dan snorted. He knew Harry was just trying to stay busy so he wouldn't worry. He nodded and stepped onto the carpet, which started moving forward immediately. "Do that, Harry. I'll be back in a bit," he replied as the carpet took off.
Hotel Napoleon, Paris (Feb 11th)...
Ginny was enjoying the Paris trip immensely and today was her day to host the afternoon tea for the wives. Everyday the wives gathered together and usually helped one or the other work on something their husbands had asked them to look into or research.
Early into the trip, Geoffrey Collington had asked his wife, Cecilia, to look into the way the French Magical society was structured. They were meeting with several people, but they didn't understand where those people fell in the French power structure. The wives were thrilled by the opportunity to help their husbands and enjoy themselves at the same time.
Cecilia had arranged so that each of them would cover a certain aspect of the French pureblood society, then they met every day over tea to discuss what they had learned and what they would tell their husbands. To their credit, the men quickly realized that the women had become an efficient information gathering machine in their own right and used them to find out information that the Embassy couldn't provide.
Today, an accident with a cup of tea had sent her into the bathroom in an attempt to save her new blouse. She had just finished washing her hands when she heard something.
She turned off the water and tilted her head slightly, listening. She could have sworn she'd heard shouting and a door slam.
"Where is the red headed bitch?" someone shouted in badly accented English.
"She stepped out for a moment," Cecilia said calmly. "We are wives of diplomats and have diplomatic immunity..."
Ginny winced. She'd heard a sharp thump and a bang, then the sound of Cecilia crying in pain.
She glanced around and grimaced. Her wand was out in the sitting room. She slipped out the back door of the bathroom and into the bedroom. She looked around wildly for a moment, then her training kicked in and her panic receded.
Quietly, she made her way to the door of the bedroom and opened it a crack. In the sitting room she could see Cecilia on the floor, still crying, Marjorie was sitting on a chair, visibly frightened, but trying to remain calm. Three men stood in the room and Ginny assumed they were muggles, since all three held guns.
She wasn't able to summon her wand without alerting the men to her location. That left her with wandless magic. Her wandless magic was one of the strongest in the Brotherhood.
Looking around, she saw what she needed almost immediately. She carefully noted the positions of the men in the sitting room. The three men had begun to argue over who should go find her.
Suddenly the door to the bedroom banged open and two of the men collapsed. One man was impaled in the neck by a ski pole, the second man went down with an oar to the belly.
Ginny stepped into the sitting room, her aura blazing. The last man standing lifted his pistol, then screamed as the weapon turned white hot, searing the flesh of his hand and causing the sleeve of his shirt catch on fire. Dropping the gun, he danced around, beating out his flaming shirt, burning his other hand in the process.
With the fire out, but smoke still rising from his body, the man looked around wildly. Spotting Ginny in the doorway, her aura shining brightly around her and her eyes blazing, the man snarled. "Merde! You bitch, you will pay for this!"
Ginny stepped forward and gestured. A shotgun like report seemed to bounce off the walls as the man's neck snapped. He slumped soundlessly to the floor, a look of surprise fixed on his face.
"Marjorie, see to Cecilia," Ginny ordered as she stepped over the dead man to examine the other two.
Marjorie jumped at Ginny's command, kneeling next to the stricken woman.
Ginny examined the man she had hit with the banished ski pole. The pole had gone completely through his throat, killing him in seconds. She patted him down and took his wallet.
Then she turned to the second man, the one she had hit with the banished oar.
He was curled in a tight ball, moaning. She patted him down and took his wallet, as well as a cell phone, a pistol and two knives. He didn't seem to be aware that she was there.
Finally, she grabbed her wand and stepped over to Cecilia.
"I don't know what to do, Ginny, she's in so much pain. That man," Marjorie said, pointing at the man whose neck was broken, "hit her with his gun."
Ginny frowned and ran a quick spell on Cecilia, numbing some of the pain.
"Marjorie, in the bedroom you'll find a small orange box on the dresser. Get it."
As Marjorie jumped up and ran to the bedroom, Ginny glanced over at the partially open door, then back down at Cecilia. "Ceci, you know this means our security detail is either captured or dead."
Gritting her teeth against the pain, she nodded.
When Marjorie came back with the box, Ginny took it from her and smiled grimly at Cecilia. "This is a standard field medic kit. You have broken jaw, Ceci. I'm going to give you a potion that will take away all of the pain until we can get you to a healer. If I use the bone healing potion you'll need to have it re-broken and re-set later, so let's not do that, alright?"
Cecilia nodded and Marjorie watched Ginny with huge eyes. Throughout the entire trip, Ginny had been the follower, the one who felt most out of place. But in this crisis she had taken charge in a surprising way.
Ginny pulled out a small blue bottle and uncorked it. "Take only three sips, Ceci. This will make your pain go away. Don't speak. You could cause more damage if you do."
Cecilia nodded in understanding, then drank from the potion bottle. A moment later, she sighed in relief and looked at Ginny questioningly.
"Yes, I know," Ginny replied. "Marjorie, do you remember the coordinates for the Embassy? We're going to apparate there."
Marjorie blinked and looked at Cecilia, who nodded approvingly. "Yes, I can do that."
"Ceci, can you manage it?" Ginny asked worriedly. If the injured woman couldn't apparate, they would have to rely on her untested ability to make a portkey.
Cecilia nodded after a moment's consideration. Then she struggled to stand up. With Ginny and Marjorie's help, she got to her feet.
"You two go, I'll be right behind you," Ginny said.
Marjorie looked at her in shock. "You mean we're not checking out? What about our luggage?"
Ginny looked at the woman hard. "You've got to be kidding me. Marjorie, Ceci is hurt. We don't have time for the niceties. These men are government agents. I don't know what has happened, but clearly our diplomatic immunity has been revoked. We need to get to the Embassy and out of France as soon as possible."
Marjorie looked uncertain, but she settled down after looking at Cecilia, who nodded in affirmation of Ginny's comments. Marjorie took a deep breath, then she apparated with a loud pop. Cecilia rolled her eyes at Ginny, then vanished with a much softer pop.
Ginny took one final look around, then she pulled out her Brotherhood amulet. She closed her eyes and concentrated, sending an alert signal to every other amulet. Then she dropped the amulet and vanished quietly from the room.
Padfoot Manor...
"And that's way I think it would be good for Haven and for everyone if you were to finance a team, Harry," Oliver Wood said.
Harry smiled to himself. A team wouldn't be a bad idea. It would help the people and bring in extra money from people visiting to see the games.
"Have you picked out a place for the stadium, Oliver?"
Oliver grinned excitedly. "You know me too well, Harry. There's a place not far from Haven that would be ideal for the stadium."
Someone knocked on the door and Harry held up a hand to Oliver. "Come!" he called, then looked apologetically at the man sitting across from him.
The door opened and Hermione and Remus entered.
"I'm sorry, Harry, we didn't know you had a guest. Hello, Oliver. I hear you're doing good things over at the school." Hermione said, smiling at him. Turning back to Harry, she held up several pieces of paper. "I have the schedules worked up for the brigade training, but they can wait until another time."
Harry held out his hand for the schedules and Hermione reluctantly handed them over.
"Oliver dropped by to pitch the idea that Haven form a Quidditch team and join the Irish National League. He's worked up all the start up costs, along with projected earnings for the first five years," Harry told them conversationally.
Remus and Hermione both looked interested.
"Really?" Remus asked.
Harry handed up the thick sheaf of parchment that Oliver had given him.
Taking the parchment from him, Remus flipped through it quickly. "The Gaelic Gougers?" he asked incredulously.
"Yes, well, the name is only a suggestion," Oliver said softly.
Harry laughed. "I hope so, but I suppose it could have been worse. It could have been the Potter Pickers or something equally silly."
"Alright, forgetting the name issue for a moment, do we have the time to bother with this sort of thing? I mean, with the war and everything else going on?" Hermione asked.
Oliver's expression fell.
"Oliver told me that, in this particular endeavor, our involvement would be strictly financial. And this isn't for us. This is for Haven and the people. They need the morale boost a national Quidditch team could give them," Harry replied, defending his friend.
"It's all right here, Hermione. He's laid out the initial investment and what it would be spent on," Remus said excitedly.
Harry leaned back on his chair and thought hard.
"You're going to do this, aren't you?" Hermione sent him.
"I think I am, love. It's not a lot of money, hell, it's not even something that would earn us much. But the benefits go beyond the money. The people will love it, the kids would benefit from the Quidditch camps and it's good leadership," he replied.
Harry leaned forward, looking at Oliver. "I'm going to do this, but I'm going to make a minor change. As general manager, you'll draw a substantial salary. However, I'm going to cut that salary by a quarter and offer you twenty five percent ownership in the club..."
Harry paused and stiffened slightly as his Brotherhood amulet pulsed wildly for a moment. He received a brief impression of red hair and danger.
Remus and Hermione were both staring at him in horror. Somewhere in the manor, an alarm began to ring.
Oliver looked around in confusion. Obviously something was wrong.
Harry stood up. "Oliver, we have a problem. Get back to me, or see Remus later to get the ball rolling. I want to do this."
"Of course, Harry. Next time we meet I'll have a list of names for you to look over for the team," Oliver offered.
Harry smiled grimly. "Fine, Oliver. I'll have one of the house elves escort you out of the manor. Wait here until one shows up."
Oliver nodded and looked around nervously. He was elated, and terrified. He knew Harry was involved in the war effort, but not to the extent of having to defend his own home!
Harry picked up his staff and left the room with Hermione and Remus right behind him.
British Embassy, 18bis rue d’Anjou, Paris...
"'ere now! Watcha dooin 'ere?" said the sentry.
Ginny whirled, her wand out and the man took a step backwards, then he pulled the automatic rifle from his shoulder.
"Put yer 'ands up where I can seeim!" the sentry said.
"Dammit, not now," snapped Ginny. With a gesture, the man suddenly found himself holding nothing.
The sentry stared at his empty hands and blinked stupidly.
Ginny sighed and shook her head. "Contact your watch officer and tell him you have a Case Apollo here."
The man blinked at her and she growled in the back of her throat. "Do it," she hissed at him. Unlike the other wives, Ginny had been briefed on certain details due to her position in both the Brotherhood and the Brotherhood brigade. She had been given certain key phrases assigned for just this mission in case of emergencies.
The sentry reached for his radio and patted his holster to make sure he still had at least one weapon. He wasn't sure it would be useful against the little red headed woman, but he felt a little safer knowing he had it handy.
Ginny walked over to examine Cecilia for a moment. She ignored the sirens that started blaring through the building.
After hitting the master alarm switch in the security office, the watch officer hurriedly looked for Case Apollo in his duty plan book. The book outlined all the possible problems he might encounter and what to do about them. Finding Case Apollo, he quickly read the steps and the reasons. He paled and immediately paged his senior officer and the Ambassador, then he put the security staff on full alert. Finally, he called the communications room and gave the proper code phrase to the senior communications officer, who started destroying the equipment.
Ginny looked up when the door to their room opened again at Ambassador Howe stepped in, along with two security men.
"Mrs Collington?" he asked
Ginny stepped forward. "Cecilia has been injured and is unable to speak at the moment. We were attacked by agents of the DST in my hotel room. I was forced to kill all three before we could escaped. Can you take us to the room Department M installed the portal in?"
Howe stared at her for a moment, then shook his head. She was barely five foot tall and she had killed three French Security Agents?
"You realize, of course, that they wouldn't have made this move unless they planned on disavowing our government," she said softly to him.
Howe nodded. "Yes, that occurred to me. Ladies, if you will follow me? We'll escort you to your Department M."
Ginny and Marjorie helped Cecilia to her feet and followed the Ambassador out of the room and up two flights of stairs before entering a nondescript office. Ginny breathed a sigh of relief spotting the portal and she immediately went over to the control pedestal. She dialed in the location she knew by heart.
"Our husbands?" she asked, turning away from the pedestal. Behind her, the portal opened with it's usual shimmering light.
"We are endeavoring to contact them even as we speak. They were scheduled to meet with Jean LaRoche of the opposition party and a member of the current Ministry. Forgive me, Mrs. Longbottom, but I must ask. Where is your security detail?"
Ginny motioned for Marjorie and Cecilia to step up to the portal before turning back to Howe. "We don't know, Ambassador. Three DST member attacked us. I can only assume our detail was either killed or captured."
"What about you, Ginny?" exclaimed Marjorie. She was terrified and didn't really understand what was happening. She didn't like the idea of Ginny motioning her towards the portal while she stayed behind.
Cecilia placed a calming hand on the other woman and she relaxed a little.
"I'll be right behind you. But it's important that you help Cecilia get through the portal and back to Haven, where the healers can fix her up," Ginny said tensely.
Marjorie nodded, took a deep breath, then stepped through the portal, Cecilia by her side.
The Ambassador gasped and stared at the portal. The two women had vanished from the room almost instantly!
"What about you and your staff, Sir?" asked Ginny.
"My people are trained for this sort of thing, Mrs. Longbottom. It's one of the risks of being in the Foreign office, I'm afraid. We'll manage. Once the Embassy is shut down, we'll try to make our way to the Canadian or Swiss Embassies."
"Be careful, Sir." With a final adjustment to the control panel, assuring it would shut down after she went through, she nodded to the Ambassador. Grabbing her medallion, she reached out for Neville. What she felt chilled her to the bone.
Terrified, she leapt towards the portal and home.
When she disappeared, the light of the portal flickered out. It would take a witch or wizard with the right control code to reactivate it again.
Padfoot Manor...
Harry, Hermione and Remus arrived in the portal room just as Marjorie and Cecilia were stepping through. They had enough time to take in the fact that one of the women was injured when Ginny stepped through behind them. She was trembling violently and trying hard to fight back the tears that threatened to overwhelm her.
"I can't feel him," she cried, then choked back a sob.
When Hermione wrapped her arms around her, Ginny leaned against her and began to weep. "I can't feel him," she cried out again.
Harry's expression hardened and he bolted from the portal room. Two doors away was the room which all the Brotherhood portkeys arrived in, including the emergency portkeys built into the medallions.
"Harry?" Remus called, running after him.
Harry stood waiting tensely in the room.
Remus entered a second behind him. "Harry, what's wrong?"
"If Neville is dead, the portkey will still bring his body back," Harry said. "Ginny normally senses him through the bond we all have through the medallions. She can't sense him now though and that means he's either dead, unconscious or someone has taken off his medallion. In any case, the medallion will return him here."
"Or bring us someone entirely unexpected," Remus added, pulling his wand. Another alarm sounded in the manor. The portkey alarm indicating that there was a medical emergency and that a portkey had been activated.
Remus raised his wand. Harry stood next to him, his hand glowing with power. He could hear the sound of people running upstairs and footsteps of people approaching the room.
With a rush of air, a person appeared in the room looking shocked and surprised.
"Stupefy!" Remus called out. The beam lanced out from his wand, striking the surprised man and he collapsed to the floor.
Another beam of light arced from Harry's hand and the man on the floor was bound tightly in ropes.
Harry walked over to him and pulled the Brotherhood medallion from his hand. He glanced up at Remus. Both men couldn't help but notice that the chain attached to the medallion was bloody. Harry started to search the man, relieving him of two wands, a knife, all of the change in his pockets, rings, his watch and so on. Anything could be a portkey.
The door burst open and Ginny stood in the doorway, her aura blazing. Harry frowned and stepped in front of her, protecting the unconscious form on the floor.
"Step aside, Harry," Ginny said evenly.
"No, I don't think so, Ginny. No, that isn't Neville, and yes, he had Neville's medallion on him. But right now he's the only link we have to finding him," Harry said firmly.
"Step aside, Potter," Ginny said between clenched teeth.
"Don't make me do this," Harry replied. Even as he spoke, his own aura became visible. "Ginny, you can do whatever you want to him, but only after I've found out what happened to Neville and the others."
"Ginny, don't do this," Hermione pleaded from the doorway.
Ginny gathered her power and Harry shook his head, feeling her intention. He ruthlessly threw his own magic at her, smothering her concentration, denying her the use of her own magic. She snarled and leaped at him.
"Stupefy!" shouted Hermione, hitting Ginny in the back. "You men amaze me sometimes," she continued, staring at Harry and Remus. "Why didn't you just stun her?"
"Oh, and she'll be so happy about that when she wakes up. Have you ever dealt with an angry Weasley?" asked Remus.
Hermione stopped short and looked chagrined. "Yes, and it's not pretty, I know. But for Merlin's sake, it's better than fighting her. We'll worry about calming her down when she wakes up."
Hermione moved Ginny over to one side of the room and an elf appeared with a small cot. She maneuvered Ginny onto the cot, then turned to watch Harry and Remus. The unconscious man had been propped up on a small stool with a sticking charm.
"Enervate," Remus said, pointing his wand at the man.
The man opened his eyes and looked around. He spotted Harry and paled.
"You know," Harry said conversationally, "the next time you take a portkey off someone, you should determine what triggers it has. The portkey detected the fact that Neville wasn't wearing it and judged the lack of physiological indicators as a major change in the health of it's owner, bringing you here."
"I demand to be released immediately! I am a member of the French Ministry for Magic!" the man demanded in an arrogant tone.
"Perhaps," said Remus coldly. "But since you have attacked members of our diplomatic mission, I can only assume that France is declaring war on Britain. That makes you the enemy."
"Now, Remus," Harry chided. "I'm sure our friend will be cooperative. After all, he does want to return to his homeland alive and well." Turning the man, he sat down on thin air. "Now then, where are you holding the members of our diplomatic mission?"
"I have nothing to say to you," the man replied with a sneer.
"I was so hoping you'd say that." Harry smiled thinly and the man suddenly howled in pain. Standing up, he leaned down a few inches from the man's ear. "What you feel, Monsieur, is merely a simulation of what it would feel like if I flay the flesh from your bones. It's a very old spell and I've been looking for an excuse to try it. If that doesn't work, I'll attempt to pull the information directly from your mind. I know it will work, but I'm afraid it will leave you quite insane."
Harry pulled away and looked at the man coldly.
"You cannot do this!" the man whined. "I am Jean LaRoche, Inspector General of the Department of Magical Enforcement!"
"Monsieur LaRoche, I fear you are under the impression that you have been arrested. While Mr. Potter holds a small position in the British Government, he is, at this point, merely a concerned private citizen searching for his missing friend," Remus said in an offhand manor, then he turned to Harry and looked eager. "Are you going to try that flaying spell we found?"
Harry nearly laughed, which would have ruined everything.
"Harry, he's the man Neville and the others were supposed to meet today," Ginny called from the cot she had been on. Hermione had awakened her and explained exactly what they were doing.
Harry's expression grew grave. "Remus, we must stop now."
Remus looked up in surprise. "But, Harry..."
"No," Harry replied, holding up a hand. "He is an agent of his government and their actions make this an overt act of war on Britain. I will go alert the Americans and Canadians that we will have to invade France before we can take back our country. I know the Americans will approve. As for Monsieur LaRoche, he has infiltrated an official British installation in civilian clothes. He will be charged as a spy and executed under the articles of war."
LaRoche paled and shook his head. He moaned for a moment. "No! I am no spy. I was merely following orders!"
"Perhaps if you tell me where my husband and his fellow diplomats are being held, I would be willing to plead for mercy for you at your trial, Monsieur," Ginny said in French.
Harry looked at her sharply. He didn't know what she had said.
LaRoche looked at her and hope filled his expression. "The DST Building, sub-level three, eastern end," he gasped, he did not want to die.
Harry's eyes narrowed and he did a quick silent legilimency on the man, skimming above the man's shields. He just needed to know if LaRoche was telling the truth or not.
A moment later, he breathed a sigh of relief. "He's telling the truth," Harry told Remus quietly.
"I'll alert Caleb and Amelia," Remus said, then he left the room.
Harry joined Hermione and Ginny and the redhead looked at him hopefully.
"I don't know what you said to him, Ginny, but it did the trick. We now know where they're being held,"he said softly. He didn't want LaRoche hearing them.
"So what happens now?" Ginny asked in a small voice.
Harry knelt in front of her. "Listen to me carefully, Ginny. An operation is being planned even as we speak. None of the Brotherhood can be in on the op, as much as we want to be. We're too involved."
Ginny's eyes flashed with anger, but she nodded in understanding. Harry was right. They were too close to Neville to be directly involved. "What about him?" she asked, jerking her head towards LaRoche.
"We'll return him to the French in due time. Remus and I were trying to scare him into talking when you said something that convinced him to give up the information. Frankly, my immediate inclination is to send him back to the French Ministry via a dozen owls, but I doubt Amelia will allow that."
"Harry," Hermione chided and he grimaced.
"I know, Hermione. But this is Neville we're talking about, damn it. He's family!" Harry hissed back.
Ginny closed her eyes and clasped her arms around herself tightly. "Please, don't fight. I need you both."
Harry looked at her, his expression softening. "You're right. I'm sorry, Ginny. Let's go upstairs and get settled. We may have a long wait."
Hermione hugged Ginny before standing. "What about him?"
Harry winked and grinned maliciously. Then he turned and pointed his staff at LaRoche. "Sominus!" he intoned. LaRoche panicked until the spell hit him in the chest, then he slumped on the stool, held there only by the sticking charm.
"He'll sleep until I wake him up again, assuming I remember the counter spell. You know, my memory hasn't been the same since I came down with that cold. Heck, it could be years before I remember how to bring him around again," Harry said.
Hermione looked reproachful, but Ginny snickered.
The Bastille, Paris...
"Report!" snapped the leader.
"Sir, the agent directing our operation failed to arrive with his prisoners. The prisoners have arrived as planned, but our agent is missing. Also, the team sent to retrieve the women has been terminated."
"Impossible!" shouted a voice from the other end of the chamber. "We were told these women were harmless!"
The man in the arena cringed. He was LaRoche's second in command, although he didn't know LaRoche's identity.
"The three women in question were witches, and more to the point, at least one had received military training. The capture team was neutralized with precision, and all of their personal effects were removed from their bodies, including their DST Identification cards," said the man.
"This is madness! I warned you all this was madness! You have brought us to the brink of war!" shouted another voice.
"Enough," shouted the leader. The room fell silent.
"What of the three primary subjects?" he asked.
The man in the arena nodded. "We have captured them and have taken them to a secure location. Interrogations were scheduled to begin tomorrow, but things are happening now that are outside of our control."
"Oh? Such as?" Someone asked.
The man turned to face the direction of the voice. "The British Embassy has been evacuated, it's personnel seeking refuge in other Embassies. And contrary to what we believed would happen, the Ambassadors for the United States, Canada, Italy, Germany and Ireland have been recalled for consultations. I also just learned that NATO has switched command codes and cut us out of the command circuits.
"Finally, the British Government in Exile is demanding an emergency meeting of the U.N. Security Council."
A hush fell over the room as people considered what they were hearing.
Finally, one member broke the silence. "This is madness! You have brought us to the brink of war against an enemy we cannot defeat! NATO has amassed an invasion force of nearly a million men to liberate Britain. They will use it on us!"
"I disagree," said the leader. "The other countries are posturing for effect on the world stage. No one will attack us because of our nuclear arsenal. They fear that too much."
A murmur of agreement arose in the room.
"Let us wait and watch the events unfold. We will continue as planned," the leader continued. Then he directed his comments to the man in the arena. "You are now in charge of this project. Do not fail us."
The man repressed a shudder and nodded his head.
"One more thing," said the leader. The man in the arena paused and looked up.
"Just to be safe, let us not leave any loose ends dangling."
The man nodded. "I will take care of everything."
Direction de la Surveillance du Territoire, 7 rue Nélaton, Paris...
As far as covert teams went, this one was extremely large. The team was composed of four ten man squads. After a briefing and a rushed mission planning session that lasted less than an hour, they arrived outside of the building as darkness descended on the city.
The team was led by Twister, the senior non-commissioned officer of the Brotherhood Brigade. The plan was be simple. Team four would enter the building and head up to the executive offices where they would then make as much noise as possible, and probably gut the upper floors of the building. Teams one, two and three would head downstairs. Team Three would set up a guard on the entrances to the sub levels. Team two would sweep the sub levels in case they were given the wrong information, while Team one would make for the holding cells in the eastern wing of sub-level three.
When some of the team leaders complained that the plan was too simple, Twister shrugged and replied, "The simpler the plan, the less that can go wrong with it."
Twister motioned to two of his men, then pointed at the door with the sentries. The men nodded and raised their wands. The sentries crumpled to the ground a moment later.
"Contact command and tell them we're in," Twister said to the man next to him. Then he turned and motioned to the men.
One by one, each team entered the building. They had work to do.
Padfoot Manor...
The Brotherhood were all clustered in one of the large sitting rooms. Narcissa and Amelia had joined them, along with Cecilia Collington and Marjorie Talbot. House elves moved among the group, refilling drinks and bringing snacks.
Cecilia had been taken to a healer and her injury had been healed quickly. Her jaw was sore, and would be for the next day or two, but it was nothing compared to the worry eating at her. She knew she owed Ginny her life, but her concern for Geoffrey overrode everything else.
Harry paced off to one side and kept glancing at the large ornate clock on the wall. Ginny sat with Neville's Gran and Hermione. Her eyes were puffy from crying and she twisted a handkerchief out of shape in her hands.
Amelia approached Harry, who looked up at her, startled.
"Have you met Cecilia and Marjorie?" she asked him.
Harry turned to the two women. "Only briefly when they arrived. Please ladies, make yourselves comfortable. I fear this will be a long night."
"Thank you for letting us come here, my lord. I didn't relish the idea of staying home alone tonight," Cecilia said.
"Nonsense. No one should be alone on a night like tonight," he told her and tried to smile reassuringly. "Find yourselves a comfortable spot and relax. It's all being taken care of."
Cecilia nodded, then she dragged Marjorie off with her. Marjorie seemed to be too awed by where she was to say anything.
"I hate this waiting," he said, turning back to Amelia.
"You think you have it bad? Think of Ginny and the others. So many things can go wrong tonight," she murmured.
"What about the protective detail? What of their wives?" he asked.
Amelia sighed. "Only two of the detail were married. One man's wife is still in Britain and the other is with the wives of the rest of the detail tonight. We don't hold out much hope for them. If Merlin is on our side, we'll be bringing home more than our three missing diplomats."
Harry nodded unhappily. "And the Embassy staff?"
Amelia smiled. At least there she had good news. "All of the staff have been accounted for. They had plans in place for such a contingency. We have reports from six different Embassies reporting they are providing sanctuary for our people."
An elf appeared and snapped off a salute, then handed Harry a small note.
Ripping it open, he read it quickly before passing it to Amelia.
"If I can have everyone's attention please," Harry said, loud enough to carry in the room. "I've received word from the Operations Center that a rescue attempt is now underway. All we can do is wait and hope," he said.
Ginny stood unsteadily, then squared her shoulders and walked over to sit with the wives of the other missing men.
Direction de la Surveillance du Territoire, 7 rue Nélaton, Paris...
Team four ran up the stairs and stopped only a few floors below the top. Still in the stairwell, they disillusioned themselves and snuck out of the stairwell. From there, they broke into five two man groups to cover more area and wreak more havoc. The fact that most of the building was filled with muggles made the operation especially easy.
Twister paused and smiled as the building shook under his feet. Team four was on the job, and from the sound of it, enjoying themselves. They had been instructed to keep the deaths to a minimum, but the damage they were doing was substantial.
He looked around the corner, then pulled back. The entrance to the sub-levels would be daunting for muggles, but for wizards it was nothing. Not even the two foot thick steel door would stand up to a banishing charm. He nodded and team three stormed around the corner, firing explosive hexes at the sentries and the security cameras.
Twister and teams one and two moved around the corner, while three men from team three banished the doors. He nodded to the team leader, then he joined team one. Entering the stairway, team two followed, while three remained behind, blocking the entrance to the sub levels.
The building shook again and Twister could hear an alarm shrieking in the distance. The corridors that his men ran through were eerily silent. It didn't take long for team one to reach sub-level three. There, they slowed down, moving more cautiously and checking rooms. Finally, they found one corridor that was guarded by five machine gun carrying sentries.
Twister motioned to his men, who moved silently up behind him. They crouched down, just out of sight. He held up his hand, showing five fingers. His men nodded and braced themselves. Twister ran a quick count on his fingers. When he reached zero, he bounced around the corner. The ten men of team one were right behind him.
"Reducto!" he shouted.
A machine gun chattered briefly. Twister felt something pull at his shirt sleeve, but he ignored it. In less than two seconds, the sentries were dead. Three men from team one ran up to the door and tried to open it. It was locked, but a quick charm took care of the problem.
Entering the room, they found the three missing diplomats strapped to beds. Each man had an IV tube running into their arms and all three were unconscious.
"Get them unhooked from that crap," snarled Twister.
"Nice miss, Twister," one of his men said, fingering the hole in his shirt. A bullet had passed through his sleeve, missing him by a hair.
"Take a bag of that stuff with you," he ordered, then he looked at his shirt and grinned at his men.
One of the medics unhooked the three men from the IV's, and collected several samples in case they needed them. Another man unstrapped them from the bed. The medic gave them a thumbs up and a portkey was placed on each man's chest and activated.
"Send out the recall signal," Twister ordered.
Another man nodded and unslung his backpack. He rummaged around and pulled out a stone. Tapping the stone with his wand, it began to glow brightly.
"Let's torch this place on the way back to the stairwell. We'll portkey from there," Twister ordered.
Padfoot Manor...
Harry glanced at the clock for what seemed the millionth time. An uneasy silence had settled upon the room and every one that spoke soon gave up trying to hold a conversation. Harry's hopes were sinking fast. It had been over an hour since they'd received notice that the mission was underway. There was a greater chance of something going wrong the longer the mission lasted.
He walked over to Amelia. "We need to talk about responses to this," he said tensely.
She looked at him sharply, but. "I know. I've been wondering about it myself. What do you have in mind?"
Harry looked around for a moment, then steered her to an empty part of the room. "It's obvious that the current French government is hostile to us, so I'm going to suggest Operation Headshot."
Amelia paled and stared at him. "You can't be serious," she exclaimed.
"Of course, I'm serious," he snapped back. "This is war, Amelia, and they've just declared themselves to be our enemies..."
"But assassination," she interrupted in protest.
"It's not assassination. They're valid military targets. Besides, taking out the Minister and the department heads means we might get a government more friendly to our cause," he pressed.
"No. We will not resort to assassination, not while I'm Minister. There are other ways of taking down the French Ministry..."
Amelia and Harry stopped when a uniformed elf popped in and handed Harry a note. With the creature's arrival, every eye in the room swung in his direction.
He opened the note and quickly scanned it. Looking up, his eyes went to the women. When he smiled, Cecilia broke down and wept.
"Twenty minutes ago, our three missing men were returned to Haven. They're in Haven Hospital, recovering. Our healers say they have been given some sort of muggle drug, but they're expected to recover fully and will probably be released tomorrow."
Ginny closed her eyes and murmured a prayer of thanks.
"The Operations Center reports that there were no casualties among the rescue teams. Unfortunately, no sign of the missing protective detail was found."
Walking over to the three women, he smiled. "Ladies, considering how you must be feeling, I'll make a portkey that will take you to the hospital. I don't want you apparating and splinching yourselves because you were in a rush."
He conjured a long length of rope and murmured over it for a moment. The rope turned blue for a moment and he nodded as he gave it to Ginny.
Neville's Gran joined them and she patted Ginny's arm. "Let's go see my grandson, shall we?"
Ginny smiled up at the older woman as the other two women took hold of the rope. They vanished a second later.
Harry stared at the empty space for a moment, then turned away. Moving to an armchair, he sat down heavily and rubbed his face tiredly.
"So what now, Harry?" asked Draco.
"Ask Amelia. Personally, I think we should take out the French leadership. But she says there's a bloodless way of doing it," he replied.
"Harry," Hermione chided, then she shot an apologetic glance at Amelia.
Amelia smiled thinly. "I'll tell you what, Harry. If my way doesn't work, I'll personally give you a go ahead on your Operation Headshot."
He eyed her suspiciously, but nodded. "So, what do you plan?"
Amelia looked smug. "I have agreements from five allied nations that if the French were to cause any further difficulties, we'd call for an Avalonian Council. Between myself and the five others, we have the six necessary Ministerial votes to invoke a Council. I intend to see the French Ministry disenfranchised."
Hermione looked at Amelia in awe. "You can do that?"
Amelia grinned wolfishly. "Watch me."
17 Rue Dupin, Paris (Feb 12th)...
Amhar Coeur de Lion stepped from his apartment and blinked his eyes in the bright winter sun. He had been feeling slightly sluggish for the last few days, almost as though he was coming down with a cold. He had visited a healer, been thoroughly dosed and given some potions to take with him. He took them religiously, but they hadn't relieved him of the sluggish feeling.
He hoped LaRoche would contact him before he ran out of money. He hadn't seen the man in several days, but he expected he would soon. Something had happened at the British Embassy and the newspapers were all talking about it, along with a sudden cooling of relations with several countries. The papers were confused about the downturn on the international scene and were calling for an investigation.
Amhar stopped at a little cafe he had found. They served an excellent English breakfast and he made it a habit of stopping each day for his morning meal and to read the paper. The cafe was comfortable and he felt safe there.
He was reading a paper when his table rocked slightly. He looked up to see a man sitting across from him.
"I'm sorry, but this is a private table, Monsieur. There are plenty of empty tables you can pick from," Amhar said in badly accented French.
There was a puffing sound from under the table and Amhar felt an intense burning in his belly. It felt as though the wind had been knocked from him. He looked at the man across from him in surprise.
"Marne sends her very best regards," the man said in a thick brogue.
Amhar's eyes widened. Outside on the street, two automobiles collided, courtesy of the French crime syndicate. All eyes in the cafe turned to watch the spectacle outside.
The man across from Amhar fired his silenced gun two more times, then stood and walked out the front door.
Amhar's sight was beginning to dim, and his last thought was to wonder how he had been found. He never knew, and moments later was past caring, that he'd been just another loose end swept up by the French shadow government.
Authors Notes:
Dale: Since you asked so nicely, here you go. An update before Christmas.
Harry's going to be disappointed with us for not letting him kill Amhar. The French were being pushy though, so we let them have their way. In all honesty, I have to say that the method of Amhar's death is all Bob's fault. I wanted something bloody between Harry and him. But the truth is, Harry can't personally dispatch everyone, so Bob was probably right to kill him off the way he did.
Will we learn more about Hermione's lineage? Probably not, only because there isn't much you don't already know. We know the family crest on the Granger's robes threw you all for a loop, but it's not that hard to find your family's crest if you know your geneology. For example, my family crest was researched about 20 years ago. It's a falcon, sitting on a thrown with a crown in its beak. I always figured that meant, somewhere along the line, someone in the family stole a crown from some king somewhere and hocked it for beer money. ~Grin~
When will Susan's baby be born? Nine months after it was conceived, silly!
How many chapters will the story be and how far after the final battle will the story continue? Watch and read, rabbit.
How many daggers are still out there? Voldemort has a couple, the rest are probably on Ebay. Oh, and yes. All possessed blades speak Vulcan. We thought that was common knowledge!
Have we thought about putting Sunset and Sunrise on other sites like Portkey and FF.net? Well, the story started on FF.net, then got booted off (don't get me started!). Tim was nice enough to give us a home after several readers told him of our trouble and we haven't looked back since. We're not interested in posting to multiple archives, though. We're happy in our new home.
We're sorry if you feel the story is going to slowly. We're not going to rush through it though. If we did, we'd leave too many plot lines hanging. Many of our characters have taken on a life of their own and would stone us if we didn't give them airtime. I'm sure you understand. As for leaving more cliffhangers just to keep people interested — are you nuts? Do you know how many death threats we receive after each cliffy? ~Shudders~ That's not interest, that's anger!
Thorfinna: It's possible. There aren't a lot of sick, twisted couples out there, after all. ~Snicker~
Wait, now folks are complaining that there's nothing to complain about? ~Bangs head on desk~
Will the other poltergeists stay at Hogwarts after the war? You'll have to ask them. We're not speaking to them at the moment. Vex and Miffs dropped Dung Bombs in our toilets for not giving them more air time this chapter.
Dazza: Hey, leave my horns out of this!
MonkeyAxman1302: Will we explain the comment about Voldemort's scepter? Yes, but in a later chapter. I can tell you that your idea is wrong. You'll have to keep reading!
Yes, Draco is technically a Black now. But remember, the other former students of Hogwarts have had several years of dealing with him as Draco Malfoy. They're going to slip up from time to time. I've been married for several years, yet old school friends still call me by my maiden name, even though they know I'm married.
Will Orla remain insane? You'll find out next chapter.
Lugo got through the death ward around Haven by walking. He's not a marked Death Eater and as far as he's concerned, he's done nothing wrong in his business dealings with Marne's cartel. It is, after all, just business. The ward didn't trigger because the man doesn't think he's evil. Interesting loophole in the wards, wouldn't you say? ~Grin~ And before you all jump to the conclusions I know are buzzing around in your minds, remember this. You can't take advantage of a loophole if you don't know it exists, and the few who have discovered it are either dead, don't realize what they've discovered, or are in custody.
We'll get back to Britain when the time is right, folks. Remember, they're still acting under prophesy and their return has been scripted, much like their departure was. Hold tight, the time is coming, although Bob says he's open to bribes on that issue. Send him donuts or pizza and he'll consider acceleratingly the plot.
That's it for now, folks. We probably won't get the next chapter out until early next year. We have family coming in a few days and will be a bit too busy for writing.
For those who celebrate, we wish you warm and happy holidays!
~Alyx and Bob~