Sunrise Over Britain :: Chapter 2 - Orphans and a Hermione Moment

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"What have you got planned this time Bob?" asked Alyx.

"You’ll just have to wait and see won’t you?" replied Bob smugly.

A distinguished British guy walked out onto the stage eating BBQ spare ribs and pushing a cage with Severus Snape in it.

"Is that Jeconais? The author of This Means War, Hope and White Knight, Gray Queen?" whispered Alyx in awe.

"Yep. He’s British, but he likes American style BBQ, so he can’t be all that bad."

Jaconais carefully positioned the cage in the center of the stage, then he backed away from it. He stepped to a nearby counter where he started to put ten foot poles on the counter. Below the counter a sign read "ten foot poles, one pound, or twenty euros."

"The authors of this story, Bob and Alyx have reminded me to once again tell you good for nothing brats that they do not own the Harry Potter Universe. If they did, Alyx would see I really look like Alan Rickman and ditch that guy Bob."

"I will get you for that you know," Bob snarled at Alyx.

"Yes Dear," replied Alyx.
Harry Potter opened a door releasing the horde hormonally challenged Alan Rickman fans who immediately started to tear the cage apart.

Hermione, on the other end of the stage opened the door allowing hundreds of Snape Haters to enter the stage.

Jeconais looked to be a brisk business selling the poles.

"You really are twisted you know," Alyx said flatly.

"I know, but you love me anyway," Bob replied.

Sunrise Over Britain
Chapter 2

Keeping the Secret (evening, April 29th)…

When the intercom buzzed, the President leaned over and pressed a switch. "Yes?"

"Mr. President, Secretary Paletto is here for your weekly briefing."

"Very well, send him in," replied the President of the United States.

The door opened admitting Louis Jefferson Paletto, Secretary of the Department of Magic. The short, portly man walked into the room smiling at the President.

The President waved him to a chair in front of desk.

"Mr. Secretary, I hope you have some good news for me. The press has been beating me up over the government’s inactivity in regard to the British situation."

Paletto handed the President a letter. Opening it, the President started to frown as he read.

"The text of that letter is being simultaneously released to every media outlet and Head of State even as you read it. Her Majesty’s Government in exile has appealed for the help of the magical governments, worldwide. In agreement to our aiding their effort, they are asking every muggle government to observe their sovereignty. This is an internal matter, and they will view any interference by military forces landing on their territory as an act of war," Paletto told the President.

As for the press," he continued, smiling thinly. "We are aware of the problem you and others have been experiencing, Sir. We’re dealing with it just as we did during World War II."

When the President looked up at him, a little wild about the eyes, Paletto’s smile broadened. "Yes, few people know that Hitler was under control of Grindelwald, a very powerful Dark Wizard. Back then we used memory charms to keep our world secret. Today, however, we have more advanced methods on which to rely. Suffice to say that several key CIA mind control experiments were actually run by the Department of Magic and were far more successful than originally reported. Your problems will simmer down shortly."

The President looked outraged for a moment. "You’re controlling the press? The people of this country can’t be…"

"Oh, come on, Mr. President. Every political organization in the world manipulates the press to one degree or another. We’re merely employing certain techniques so that people will see the reports and find them too hard to believe. It’s not something we do often, but both our worlds are at stake here.

"If your world comes to learn about mine, mark my words, Mr. President, there will be a witch hunt. The Salem Witch Trials, the Inquisition, the years of persecution are not easily overlooked and there is a strong element in our society which firmly believes that if the secret can’t be maintained, then your society should be pacified. You’ve seen what one crazed Wizard can do, with support, to an entire country. What could we, as a society, do to yours if we all agreed with that viewpoint?

"I don’t agree with their viewpoint, Sir. On the other hand, I will do all I can to maintain the secrecy. Let me show why," Paletto said darkly, pulling his wand and flicking it once.

The Television flared to life and the President frowned. The scene showed a beach somewhere.

"What you are about to see is a recording made by a member of the 23rd Infiltrator Division, one of our military elite units. There, see the boats in the distance?" Paletto asked, pointing at the specks closing on the beach.

"That is a special action team of the French DGSE or Direction Generale de la Securite Exterieure. Despite our warnings, this ten-man team was sent to England yesterday morning. It gives new meaning to the term â€˜French Intelligence’."

The twin zodiac boats landed and the men in the scene leapt from them, fanning out to provide a maximum field of fire. From a wooded area, two figures floated out of the treeline and glided over to the prone men. These men, experts in combat tactics, seemed to collapse in upon themselves as the effects of the invisible dementors took hold on them. One by one the men were kissed.

"The men cannot see what attacks them Mr. President. The only reason you see them is due to the magical camera used to capture this footage. And even if those men could have seen them, their weapons would have been useless against such creatures. In another moment, the vampires will come out to feed upon the empty husks as the dementors consume the souls of these men. Voldemort has taken to pairing up his Dementors with Vampires. That way, both creatures can feed."

The President recoiled and leaned over his trash pail, emptying the contents of his stomach in the executive container.

"I apologize for sharing this with you, Mr. President, but your armies cannot see these enemies and, therefore, cannot fight them. We can. As for the French," Paletto gave an eloquent shrug. "The Head of the DGSE committed suicide this morning, and the President of France has agreed cooperate. He seemed quite eager to listen in order to prevent word leaking out that he’s been bribing immigrant families so that he may entertain himself with their underage daughters.

"As you can see, Sir, we have the means to hurt each other terribly. Personally, I shudder to think of what would happen if it came to that. I think it’s in our interests to work together. Perhaps, after this crisis has passed, we can set up a conference to explore the possibilities of merging our worlds," offered Paletto with a smile.

The President of the United States wiped his mouth and nodded weakly at the Secretary for the Department of Magic. He had seen some gruesome images in his tenure as President, but he knew that he would be having nightmares tonight.

Padfoot Manor, Harry’s private study (April 30th)…

Harry looked up and waved to the men filing into his study. He had scrapped his entire schedule this morning and pulled others out of their morning activities to have this meeting.

Last night’s activities at the hospital had disturbed him and he wanted to offer an option that perhaps had been overlooked. Draco, Miles and Caleb took a seat in front of Harry’s desk and waited for him to begin.

Harry conjured a small chair to the side of his desk. "Dobby?" he called.

Dobby appeared and snapped off a salute to Harry. Draco snickered as Harry returned the salute then asked Dobby to be seated. Dobby looked around at the others and sat nervously while other house elves popped, in serving coffee and tea.

"It had been my original intent to have just Miles and Draco here today. But you impressed me yesterday, Caleb, and I thought it might be good to have your input," Harry said.

The man colored slightly at Harry’s praise.

"Draco, I want you to meet Caleb Newman. He’s the leader of an extraction team. In fact, he’s the leader of the team that got the Patil family out last night."

Draco’s eyes lit up. "I heard about that mission. Nasty business," he murmured.

Harry’s eyes took on a far away look, "Yes, it was." He then shook himself and continued. "Tell me, Caleb, what was the biggest problem you faced last night?"

Caleb stretched out a bit. He was a tall, lanky man with very long legs. He was still tired from last night, so he gratefully accepted the offered cup of coffee the house elf handed him. "Well, sir, there were several problems, actually. First, we couldn’t get a precise fix on the family. Second, the use of the owl trace to locate them brought the capture squads down on us…"

"Yes…" interrupted Harry. "The trace charms triggered their detectors and they were able to home in on you. I have an idea about that, but first let me give you a little background story.

"In my second year, there was a plot against my life orchestrated by Lucius Malfoy. Had it been successful, Voldemort would have returned to corporeal form a full two years before he did."

Harry stood and placed a friendly hand on Dobby’s shoulder. "Fortunately for me, a house elf with more conscience than loyalty discovered the plot and tried to protect me by preventing me from returning to Hogwarts. He levitated a cake my Aunt had made and crashed it into the head of the wife of my Uncle’s boss."

Dobby winced and smiled nervously, but Harry just tightened his grip a bit on him.

"This elf was capable of tricking the Ministry into thinking I had cast the spell and subsequently earned me a warning from the Office of Underage Magic. You are probably asking yourselves why this is relevant. Well, it turns out that we have quite a number of unattached house elves here.

"According to Dobby, Haven now boasts nearly two thousand of them, and he says that many are willing to help bring our fight to Voldemort. My original intent was to employ them in the area of gathering information and put Draco in charge of organizing that effort. But now I think that role could be expanded…"

Harry paused and thought for a second. "Consider, if you will, fifty elves deploying every night to new locations around Britain and distracting the enemy and their ability to detect a team’s magic because of all the elf magic being used."

Caleb leaned back and looked at Miles. The two men smiled broadly at each other.

"We could run their capture squads into the ground and still perform our missions," Miles said with a grin.

"Dobby? Was it hard for you to make your magic seem like wizards magic?" Harry asked softly.

"Oh, no, Master Harry. It is easy for elves to do. We needs to do such so we can get into vaults and other things controlled by blood or family magic," Dobby replied earnestly.

Harry’s grin broadened and it was matched by Miles and Caleb. Even Draco looked intrigued by the possibilities.

"Dobby, could you pick an elf you trust who would be willing to work with Draco to help him organize this?" Harry asked the little elf.

Dobby nodded. Harry wouldn’t ask Dobby himself to deal directly with Draco. Despite Dobby learning that Draco and Narcissa had been forced by Lucius to abuse him, it wouldn’t have been right to throw them together.

"Well, there you have it gentlemen, the makings of both an espionage unit and diversionary tactics. Draco will work to turn the elves into a force we can use. In the meantime, Miles, I’d like you to gather some people to explore all possible methods to ensure that we cut down on the chances of repeating last night’s events."

The three men talked for a few minutes more before Draco, Miles and Caleb filed out of his study. With that out of the way, Harry could now turn his attention to the book Remus had given him at breakfast. Remus was adamant that he read it as soon as possible.

Opening the cover, he found a small parchment that explained the translation spell needed to convert the book’s Gaelic to English. Remus had tried hard not to convey his excitement about this book, and to be honest, Harry was very interested in it. But he wasn’t sure just how the journal of a man who’d lived so long ago would help.

Casting the translation spell, he flipped the book open to the section Remus had marked for him.

…and then came the day I dreaded most of all. Eocho mac Tairdelbaig, my beloved master, had been ill for the past week. Word came that Eocho had summoned me to his side and, with fear in my heart, I approached the room that held the deathbed of my mentor and friend.

"Come closer, Cathal."

I approached the bed upon which Eocho lay and gasped upon beholding the withered visage of my friend.

"Master!" I cried. "You must rest and eat, you must get well."

I started to back away, but his hand did grasp my own and he held me in a grip like iron.

"Nay. My time is ended, Cathal. Tis a perilous time for the Brotherhood and I charge thee to find us new brothers. But do not weep if thee fail this task. The old Gods are falling away and the cursed cross sweeps the land with its unholy power. Go, thou will, to Derreenataggart, to impose our essence upon the sacred stones.

"I have spoken with the Gods and they have shown me that our Brotherhood will live again. Go to Derreenataggart when I am no more. Implant a Guardian to guide the rebirth."

And with those words my master, my friend for three score and seven years, gave to me his power and passed from this realm forevermore. I kissed his forehead, and then pulled up the shroud as his husk shriveled and flaked to dust before my eyes. Then I went out to announce his passing to my brethren.

The passing of Eocho hurt our brotherhood more than anyone would have guessed. With the dire news, many turned from our ways and embraced the new beliefs. With Eocho gone, the role of Maglios was placed upon my already burdened shoulders. It was not a role I was well suited for, nor a role I craved. I am more suited as the scholar and record keeper than the leader and father to my brothers and sisters.

In my grief I fear I made a fatal mistake. I left my brothers to follow Eocho’s last command. Alone I did travel to Derreenataggart, and alone did I implant a guardian within the stones using the power Eocho gave unto me. Little did I know that during my absence, my beloved brotherhood would fracture and falter.

Harken unto these words, gentle reader still unborn! Herein I place the Rite of Summoning to awaken the Guardian and, with his awaking, the rebirth of Brotherhood. Travel unto Derreenataggart. Be thou ten and two souls, pure of spirit and have no avarice or malice in thy hearts. Awaken the Guardian as day changes and no moon lights the night…

Harry raised an eyebrow as he continued to read, then both eyebrows. Finally he sat up straight and started jotting down notes. This was crazy! No one would go for it… would they? But if it could help the way they claimed it could? Harry frowned when he considered what he’d have to do to pitch this to everyone. If this place still existed.

"Dobby?" he called.

Dobby appeared a moment later and snapped off a salute. Harry sighed and returned it. "Dobby, please see if Michael O’Dalley is somewhere in Haven. If so, ask him to join me, and then ask Remus and Hermione to join us. Oh, and we might as well have lunch served here. Bring us something light, please?"

Dobby nodded and vanished with a pop.

Haven Operations Center…

Miles looked up from the pile of paperwork on his desk when the door opened and Caleb Newman walked in. Caleb was one of Miles more promising team leaders, a taciturn man, but with a confidence in his abilities and those of his team. He gracefully lowered himself into one of the seats in the office frowning at Miles.

"Problems?" asked Miles.

"I’ve been looking over the candidate roster, trying to find a replacement for Willie. I’m not very impressed with our candidates, Miles."

Miles shrugged. "I know, but we take what we have and mold them into something useable. They can’t all be Harry Potters, you know."

Caleb fingered his wand holster nervously. "Do you know him well, Miles? I get strange impressions from him. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to think about him, but I definitely get mixed signals off him."

Miles leaned back in his chair. "Cal, I trained Harry and two of his friends in Occlumency and Legilimency last summer. I also helped him with his dueling. When I met Harry, he was not yet sixteen years old and he had seen things that would give you nightmares for the rest of your life. I think that many tend to forget that Harry Potter, for all his experience, is still a teenager with all the clumsiness and awkwardness of that age.

"The second time I saw him, he rescued me from the holding pens at Azkaban. To find me, he blew through anti-apparation wards like they were tissue paper. Then he did something to the dementors. I don’t know what he did, but he left them keening and screeching as if he had hurt them badly. What an ungodly sound! He pulled me up and tandem apparated us both to London from Azkaban and he wasn’t even tired!

"Harry Potter dismantled the Ministry single handedly, then faced Voldemort at the same distance that you are from me. He’s a young man who never had the chance to really be a kid. But he is still a kid, still learning and still developing his own sense of values and self worth. He’s very smart about some things and totally ignorant about others. He’s easily embarrassed but he’s slow to anger. He’s a good kid and, while he may still be learning to screw his head on straight, he’s going in the right direction."

Miles trailed off, thinking hard.

Caleb looked a little surprised, and then he grinned. He had known Miles for many years, in fact Miles had been one of his teachers at the academy, and it had been a long time since he had seen Miles so worked up about something. For Miles to give such a glowing recommendation, Harry had to be alright.

"If he were a cadet of mine, he’d already be a squad leader and earmarked for more responsibility, Miles. But now I understand why I get mixed readings from him. He’s still working on who and what he’s all about."

Miles nodded thoughtfully. That last phrase summed Harry up very well. When a knock came on his door, he scowled. "Come!"

The door opened to admit a frightened looking old woman holding a parchment.

"Martha? What is wrong?" Miles asked in alarm. Martha was the head of the records group. They maintained the records for everything that happened in the operations center and Miles couldn’t think of a single reason why the woman would be upset.

"Oh, Mr. Pickerton, I was looking over some of the older records, trying to figure out how to file them and I ran across a list made by Mr. Lupin, Lord Potter’s seneschal. I checked the list, mainly out of curiosity…"

Miles frowned. There had been many lists like this. "And? Obviously you found something that has disturbed you."

"One entry on the list, dated shortly after Christmas. It was never transferred to the master list, sir."

Miles sighed. "Alright, Martha, we’ve overlooked people before. Give me the name of the person and their last known whereabouts and we’ll see if we can track them down."

Martha shook her head in denial, her eyes finally started to fill with tears. "No, sir, it’s not one person. Mother Wilma’s Home… the Wizarding orphanage," she said, waving the parchment she clutched.

Miles paled and surged to his feet, snatching the parchment from Martha’s hand. Caleb stood also. "I’ll go alert the other teams, Miles. This is probably going to be an all hands effort."

"Hold on a second, Caleb… We don’t even know if the orphanage survived," Miles said worriedly. "I’ll have to talk to Harry about this one. This is a big mistake and he has to know about it."

Miles turned to Martha. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention. We’ll attend to it immediately."

Martha nodded weakly and scurried from the office.

Haven School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 5th year girls dorm…

Ginny sat on her bed and pouted a little to herself. Of the Outcasts, only she and Luna were still in the school. Even though Neville stopped by every chance he could, she was lonely, missing him and her family. Professor McGonagall had quickly realized that Luna and herself were in an unusual situation, assuming roles that would become crucial to the war with Voldemort and, due to that, had granted them a greater degree of freedom than normal. For example, the two girls spent their weekends at the Manor, rather than in the school.

The events leading up to and including the evacuation of Hogwarts had become the stuff of legend among the people of Haven. The Outcasts role in the evacuation, to the general embarrassment of them all, had been exaggerated to the level of heroes and heroines. When they complained to Harry about it, his only response was to roll his eyes, shrug and say, "Welcome to my hell."

Adjusting to their new roles wasn’t easy, and Harry’s comments hadn’t helped. Most of the Outcasts were able to bury themselves in their studies, but Luna and Ginny were, for the most part, surrounded by awestruck students and would be suitors of both genders.

Luna’s response was to issue dire warnings to people bothering her about the massive, one footed, hopping Nerfherder.

Ginny, on the other hand, dove into her homework with a vengeance, and assumed the role of matriarch for the Weasley clan. It was largely her efforts that pulled her remaining family together, finally healing and sealing the breach between Arthur and his sons.

Now Ginny was addressing the only outstanding family issue and it was one that Arthur had offered to do, but she had insisted was her job. She was busy crafting a letter to send to her brother, Charlie, in Romania. This was not an easy letter for her to write and she had attempted several drafts before she decided to keep the information to a minimum. There was no easy way to say that one brother was dead, and their mother was missing and probably dead as well.

Cleaning up the many useless drafts, she banished the remains and sealed her letter before placing it in an outgoing box. All mail from Haven was routed to the Irish Ministry, where it would be sent via international delivery owls. Only Harry and Amelia had the ability to send owl posts directly.

Padfoot Manor, Harry’s private study…

Harry looked up from Cathal’s journal when the door opened admitting Remus, Michael O’Dalley and Hermione. He waved them to seats and waited as they settled.

"I’m sorry for interrupting your schedules but, at Remus’ insistence, I’ve been reading the journal he received," Harry said, and then he turned to O’Dalley. "Michael, would you do me a favor and see if you can track down a name for me?"

O’Dalley straightened in his chair and pulled out a small notebook and a muggle pen. "What name would that be, my Lord?"

Harry winced at the honorific but continued, trying to ignore it. "Derreenataggart. It’s apparently the name of a place here in Ireland and may be an ancient Druid sacred site. Perhaps even a stone circle," he replied, then handed the Irish Auror a parchment with the name spelled out on it.

O’Dalley accepted the parchment and folded it up before placing it in a pocket. "Is there anything else you need from me, my Lord?"

"Perhaps. If you can find out where that place is, or even if it still exists, I would appreciate it. If it exists, can you find out what permission we’d need to obtain in order to perform a rite there? I am not saying we will, but I’d like to get the information, if possible."

O’Dalley stood from his seat. "I’ll go put our Department of Mysteries people on this right away."

He was nearly to the door with Harry stopped him. "Michael, one more thing. Voldemort breached the line last night… multiple times. I suspect he was probing it to discover its nature. Since the secret is out of the bag, could you ask Minister Mallory to schedule his news conference for this coming weekend, perhaps at Stonewall Lane? Hermione and I would like to take a few hours for ourselves to relax and trip to Stonewall Lane would be a nice diversion. It would probably be best to get it out of the way in the evening."

"Of course, my Lord," O’Dalley said before turning to the door and exiting the room.

Harry turned back to the two others in the room. "Hermione, have you had the chance to read Cathal’s journal yet? I know Remus made a copy for each of us."

"I read some of the sections that Remus marked out, but I haven’t had the opportunity to read the entire book as yet," she replied.

"Remus? You’ve finished the journal, yes?"

Remus nodded.

"I’ve not finished it either, but I have read Cathal’s description of the passing of Eocho and the Rite of Summoning, as well as what he lists as the benefits. I was struck by his despair. I found it ironic that he was lamenting over the loss of the old ways and the old Gods, while cursing the spread of Christianity. I know my father never belonged to the Christian faith, most pure bloods don’t. And while the Dursleys never took me to church, it was impossible to grow up with them without being exposed to their faith. Cathal’s point of view casts an interesting light on what some take for granted these days."

Hermione looked at Harry and frowned for a moment, then made a mental note to talk to him further about this at another time.

"Yes, I noticed the same thing," Remus replied. "But what do you think about the whole concept?"

"I’m very intrigued. It offers us whole new avenues of research. If we decide to risk it."

"Decide to risk it?" Remus protested. "I would think we would jump at the opportunity!"

Harry held up a hand, trying to sooth Remus. "Easy, Moony. I’m not suggesting we ignore the opportunity. But we need to examine it carefully before we leap. I’ve been looking up Druidic rites and there are some common threads in all of them that I’m not sure can be circumvented easily."

Remus arched an eyebrow at Harry’s admission of extra research, but Hermione jumped in at that point for him. "Oh? What have you found?"

Harry flushed and looked at the desk for a moment. "Druid rites are performed naked, Hermione. All of us. I’m not sure we can even get away with a warming charm, let alone an obscuring charm. And then there is his comment about â€˜the unworthy will be forcefully rejected’, which I take to mean anything from being told to go away to possibly ending up on the surface of the moon."

"So what are you suggesting we do?" asked Hermione curiously.

"I don’t think we have any choice. We have to call everyone together and explain what we hope to accomplish, warn them about the requirements, as well as Cathal’s warnings, and let them decide for themselves. We need twelve people, so I say we ask our coven members first and go from there. I’m not very comfortable with the whole nudity concept myself," replied Harry softly.

Hermione frowned thoughtfully. While she had been raised to be less conscious about body nudity and had visited clothing optional beaches with her parents, she wasn’t a practicing nudist and she was a fairly modest person herself. She also knew that the source of Harry’s discomfort came from the heavy scarring that crisscrossed his back. On more than a few occasions while he slept, she had wept thinking about a young Harry living in that abusive environment.

"Who are you going to approach first?" Remus asked curiously.

"I would think that would be obvious," replied Harry in a serious tone. "All of the Outcasts, Hermione’s parents, Tonks and yourself, Remus. That’s twelve. I think…"

Harry looked up and stopped when the door opened and Miles stepped in.

"I’m sorry to disturb you, my Lord, but we have a problem," he said softly. Harry looked sharply at the older man and tensed. Miles had never called him that… ever! He waved the man into the office.

Miles looked decidedly uncomfortable.

"Merlin, Miles! Whatever’s wrong can’t be that bad. Pull up a chair and let’s find out what the problem is! And if you call me â€˜my Lord’ again, I’ll use you for my sparring partner," Harry exclaimed, trying to lighten the suddenly tense mood.

Miles sat and smiled warily. "We were going through our records, filing stuff mainly, and our Head of Records came upon a list made by Remus, who at the time was keeping the list of people you wanted evacuated. When we combined all the lists together right after Richfield made Minister, Remus’ list didn’t completely make it to the master evacuation list."

Harry tensed and scowled. "Who did we forget, Miles?"

"It isn’t a single person, my Lord, it’s many. We left Mother Wilma’s orphanage off the main evacuation list."

Remus sagged in his seat and Hermione gasped.

Harry closed his eyes for a long moment, every inch of his body screaming with tension. When he opened his eyes, his gaze pinned Miles to his chair. "I take it you’re planning an extraction tonight?"

Miles looked even more uncomfortable. "No, actually we’re aren’t, my Lord. When we first learned of the mistake, I took it upon myself to authorize a daylight apparate to the Orphanage to see if anyone was still there. Since it was a covert pop in and pop out mission, I felt the risk was acceptable. Unfortunately, the Orphanage was deserted. We can’t plan a rescue if we don’t know where they are."

Harry’s complexion paled and he looked sick. Hermione stood and walked around his desk, placing a hand on his shoulder. He leaned his head against her hand for a long moment. As he did, the silence in the office felt heavy and oppressive.

"All right, Miles," he said, raising his head and staring at the man. "Let’s backtrack for a moment. How many orphans did Mother Wilma’s hold at the time of the evacuation?"

"We’re not sure, my Lord, but our best guess is a minimum of a dozen children, perhaps as many as twenty."

Harry shivered, then pressed on. "Fine, let’s say twenty. Assuming they managed to stay together, they could be in one of the holding camps or somewhere still in the vicinity of the Orphanage. Where was Mother Wilma’s?"

"A town called Welshpool, in Wales, my lord," Miles replied.

"Is it a big town?"

"Not really, about six thousand residents."

Harry frowned and drummed his fingers on the desk. Then, squinting in thought, he summoned a large magical atlas of Britain. The book flew off the shelf and landed neatly in his hand. He placed it on the desk and thumbed through the book for a moment before finding the map he was looking for.

Pushing away from his desk, he grabbed his staff and held it vertical in front of him. His eyes filled with an eerie light that pulsated in time to the crystal on his staff. There was a long silence and Remus, Miles and Hermione exchanged worried looks.

"There is a church, I see a woman, a powerful witch, and a lot of children. Ten, no, twelve children, several are sick. Behind the church is a small graveyard. She’s recently buried one child… and a man. A street sign reads Chelsea Lane. They are hiding… still in the town… but the situation is getting desperate," Harry murmured. As he spoke a tear slid down his cheek.

"Scrying?" whispered Miles.

Remus shook his head.

"Harry calls it Mage sight. He’s not really seeing people as much as he’s sensing magical auras and energies. It’s not very accurate when he doesn’t know the person. If he does know the person, he can pinpoint them to the inch," Hermione whispered back, then she chewed on her lower lip.

"He used a form of this when he apparated directly to you at Azkaban, Miles," Remus added. "He can sense your aura and pick up apparation coordinates. If he doesn’t know the people he’s looking for, he can only sense groupings and make guesses, as Hermione said. For example, what he’s seeing now… are they the kids we’re looking for? Maybe, or they could be a group of unrelated, but magical children. He doesn’t know. He just knows that there is a group of magical children and an adult witch there."

Miles nodded in understanding and went back to watching Harry.

Eventually the light faded from Harry’s eyes and he laid his staff to one side. Looked over at the map and pointed to the general area. "Miles?" he asked.

Miles stood and looked at the area. One corner of the map was blank so that it would show the apparation coordinates when he touched it with his wand. Miles tapped the region and copied down the coordinates, then grinned.

"We’ll find them, Harry, now that we have a place to start looking."

"Good. Bring them home, Miles," Harry said softly. He shivered thinking how afraid and alone those children must feel.

"We will, my Lord," Miles said sharply, before heading for the door.

Harry wiped his face with a hand as he slowly closed the book. Hermione and Remus looked at him with concern.

He sighed heavily and looked at the others. "So… do we broach this Rite of Summoning business with our friends today, or wait until Michael comes back and lets us know if this place even exists?"

Remus glanced at Hermione in surprise.

"Harry? How can you talk about the rite now? What about the orphans?" she asked worriedly.

He glanced at the papers in front of him and thought for a moment. "Don’t think I’m not affected, Hermione, because I am. My guts are so twisted up inside and I feel the urge to hit something. I want to scream, but what would that solve? It wasn’t Miles’ fault, so screaming at him wouldn’t solve the issue, although it might make me feel better for a few minutes. It wasn’t Remus’ fault either. He added the name to his list. Someone, somewhere, when they made the master list, skipped a single line and an orphanage of children got left behind in a war zone. Not just that, they’ve lost two of their group, a child and an adult. It was a human mistake."

He stood and walked to a bookshelf to put away the atlas. Placing the book on the shelf he turned to face them. His stance was tall and proud, and his eyes flickered with an inner light.

"Not a day goes by that someone, somewhere, doesn’t die as a result of Voldemort and his crazed lust for power. Some of them I know and mourn personally, like Willie from last night. I’ll never know the names of others, and their stories will go untold. That doesn’t mean I don’t mourn their loss, however. We all do, in our own way. Voldemort is racking up a bill; my parents, Sirius, Cedric and Ron, Peter Pettigrew, before Voldemort turned him into a monster, Willie, who I didn’t know and never will, and for a child whose name I’ll probably never learn…All of his victims. I swear I will see justice done," Harry said fervently.

Hermione and Remus gasped as a cold wind blew through the room and Harry appeared to be lit by blue flames. Then the light and wind faded.

"Harry! You just invoked a magical oath," Remus exclaimed.

He looked at Remus for a moment, and then shrugged. "It doesn’t matter, Remus. Voldemort knows he and I will face each other again. Besides, I had already dedicated myself to fighting him. A binding magical oath isn’t going to change a thing."

"He’s right Remus," offered Hermione. "He’s already dedicated to fighting Voldemort. The binding feeling that an oath imposes isn’t any stronger than what he already feels."

Harry sat back in his chair, smiling. "So, getting back to this Rite of Summoning. I’m open to suggestions. I’m about ready to say, â€˜Hey guys, there’s this ceremony we can perform that will boost our abilities in ways we can’t even imagine! And, oh yeah, we have to be starkers when we do it.’"

Hermione giggled, but Remus looked thoughtful.

"You know, Harry, that may be exactly the way to approach the whole issue. I can’t say I want to parade naked in front of my former students, but I know the issue of being naked won’t bother Tonks at all. Bless her soul, but that girl is a bit of exhibitionist."

"I don’t think my parents will be too put out by it either. They’ve taken me to several clothing optional beaches on holiday. And while I stayed clothed, my parents enjoyed the natural aspects of it," Hermione said thoughtfully.

"So what we seem to be saying is that most of the problem will probably come from our friends. I have to admit I am not very happy with it," Harry said, sighing. "On the other hand, I don’t see a way around it."

Consulting the calendar on his desk, Harry looked up at his friends. "The night of the new moon will be May tenth. That’s just over ten days from today. I think we should plan on dropping this on everyone tomorrow evening. That way they have time to work out the issues. If Michael can locate the place and get us permission, we’ll go ahead with the Ritual on the tenth…"

Haven Operation center…

Finished with the briefing for the night’s mission, Miles looked up from the podium to see Draco Malfoy standing near the door. Next to him was the small house elf Draco had introduced to him earlier.

He’d had a long conversation this morning with Draco, but he was still unsure of the young man. His family had a bad reputation and Miles knew his name change was merely a legal fiction. On the other hand, Draco did have the support and confidence of Harry and that meant a lot in Miles’ book.

When Draco learned about the Orphanage mission he had asked if he could help with some of the house elves. Dobby had introduced Draco to a house elf named Tobby. Tobby would be Draco’s contact among the elves and assist him in organizing the elves. Draco had wanted to see if they could help with the tonight’s mission. So, with Tobby’s help, he had quickly organized fifty elves.

Draco watched Caleb Newman check the gear on his teams. Tonight there were two five-man teams going out to rescue the kids from Mother Wilma’s - eight ex-Aurors and two field healers. Once the equipment checks were complete, Caleb gave a signal and all ten vanished from sight with a pop.

Draco nodded to Tobby and he snapped his fingers. The room filled with elves, all watching Draco and Tobby closely.

"Does everyone know what they’re supposed to do?" asked Draco.

As one the elves nodded at him, wide-eyed and anxious. Draco nodded to Tobby, "Very well, send them out."

"First groups, go!" shouted the little elf. A group of ten elves vanished and Tobby watched a large wall clock. The clock ticked away the seconds, then minutes. Exactly three minutes later, the little elf cried again, "Seconds group, go!"

Draco smiled. It was a simple and elegant deception plan. Each group had been given watches and a list of places they were to jump to. They would arrive at a location and cooperate to send out a massive magical signature, and then they would wait for six minutes before moving to another location to do it again. What it meant was that, all over Britain, at three-minute intervals, magic would flare up, hopefully confusing and confounding Voldemorts detection and capture squads. After each team had completed their list of jump points, they would return to Haven. With a list of twenty different locations per team, magic would be flaring all over the island for the next hour and, hopefully, cover anything the extrication teams needed to do.

Draco moved to stand next to Miles, who had been watching the elves with a bemused expression.

"Now it comes down to waiting," Miles muttered.

"Is it always like this?"

"How do you mean?"

"The feeling of impending doom, the gnawing in the belly…" Draco said softly, then trailed off, looking at the older man.

"Every damn night they go out," Miles replied.

Haven, at the Johansens…

Sven sat at the kitchen table, puffing on his pipe and watching his wife and daughter fondly. He was proud of his daughters. Inga and Helga had volunteered to help at the preschool. Olga kept busy around the house and organizing the women for their weekly get together. Olga kept a list in her head of who was single and who wasn’t and made it her business to make sure that the single people had dance partners at the weekly gathering.

Sven sighed and looked out the window. He had a meeting with Lord Potter’s seneschal tomorrow. It would be their second meeting in which he would be asking, again, if it would be possible for him to plow the large lot of land adjoining the street his house was on and plant some crops. Sven hated this period of inactivity and hated having nothing to do.

"Inga, the roast is nearly done and then I can put the strudel in. Are you done cutting up the potatoes?" Olga asked.

"Almost, Mama, but I don’t see why Helga was allowed to go get Fred and George and show them where our house is while I have to cut potatoes," Inga said in a small voice.

"And who made her sister scream in the shower when the hot water was shut off?" Olga asked in exasperation. At the sound of Inga’s startled cry, she spun around quickly.

Inga dropped the knife she was using on the potatoes. The knife had slipped and sliced open her hand, nearly to the bone. She whimpered in pain as it bled heavily.

"Papa! Get a towel, now," Mama Johansen ordered and Papa ran to the linen closet returning a moment later.

Olga grabbed the towel and wrapped Inga’s hand in it securely.

Inga tried not to cry out, as the cut turned the white towel red instantly.

"Come, we take you to the hospital, they fix you up." Olga declared. "Papa, you stay, wait for Helga and don’t nibble on the strudel!"

Papa eyed the strudel and sighed again. Sometimes life, like wives, wasn’t fair.

Welshpool, Wales…

Caleb’s team apparated directly to a small alleyway that ran parallel to Chelsea Lane. From his vantage point he could see the road curving to the north. It appeared deserted, but looks could be deceiving. Most people hid in their homes during the day and came out at night to forage for food and other items they needed.

He could barely make out the church in the darkness. It was an imposing building and probably quite comforting and quaint looking during the daylight hours. He signaled and three of his team moved out ahead of him, while Doc moved up to watch over his shoulder.

Moving by twos and threes, the team advanced on the church. Caleb was the first to reach the door.

He pushed the door open. When it made a loud creaking sound, he froze. The point of a wand was firmly pressed against his head.

"Move one more inch and I will kill you where you stand," hissed a female voice.

Caleb shifted slightly and wondered if tonight would be his turn. He thought briefly of his wife and two girls safely back in Haven, then he made an obscure hand gesture that wasn’t visible to his captor but his teammates could see it. Three of the team fell back away from their positions covering the doorway.

"Stand up slowly. I want to see both of your hands," the voice said.

Caleb felt the wand press in tighter and he swallowed nervously. "Easy, Miss. I’ll do what you say," he replied, trying to sound calm.

"Whatever you’re looking for, you won’t find it in here."

"We’re looking for the children," Caleb replied, then realized his mistake. The wand point ground against his skull harder.

"Over my dead body," hissed the woman.

"We’re here to help, damnit!"

"I bet. I’ve seen the rape gangs in the stre…"

The woman cut off and swallowed loudly as two of Caleb’s men pressed their own wands to her back. Caleb turned and gently removed the wand from her hand. Tears formed in her eyes.

"Please, take me. I’ll even cooperate. But leave the children alone. They’re just babies…" she moaned.

Caleb blinked at her. "We’re here to help you, not hurt you. Now where are the children?"

Hope flickered in the woman’s eyes and she took in their outfits. Each man wore military style black fatigues. On one arm was a patch baring the Union Jack, on the other was a patch baring a pair of crossed wands over a Celtic cross. She took in their demeanor and her exhaustion hit as the adrenalin flushed from her system.

"Help us?" she asked confused.

Doc stepped up and offered her a small vial. "Drink this, it’s a small bit of Pepper-Up potion. It will help for a little while."

She took the potion and examined it in the low light. Removing the cork, she sniffed it carefully, and then gulped it down. This whole situation was so confusing! Who were these strange men?

Caleb led the woman over to one of the pews and helped her sit down. "What’s your name?" he asked her gently.

She blinked at him for a moment, trying to process his question before replying. "Melinda, Melinda McKinny… are you really here to help us?"

Caleb smiled and nodded at the woman who was clearly beyond the limits of her endurance. "Where are the children, Miss McKinny?"

"Basement, little Linda is sick with fever. I’ve treated her with muggle medicines, but they are so primitive," she said, starting to babble.

Caleb knelt in front of the woman. "Melinda, listen to me. I need you to help us. In a little while we’re all going to someplace safe, but the children trust you, and don’t know us. I need you to tell them to come with us. If possible, we can have everyone out of here and warm and fed within the hour. Can you do that?"

Melinda nodded numbly.

Caleb stood and offered her his hand. When she took it, he helped her stand. She staggered a few steps away from him. Then, seeming to find more strength from somewhere, she straightened and led him and his men to the basement of the church.

Caleb blinked and looked at the crowded and filthy cellar in which a dozen children were sitting. All of them turned to Melinda, their eyes filled with fear. One of the older girls started to cry softly and a boy, maybe ten years old, wrapped his arms around her and glared at Caleb with hate filled eyes.

"Children… These men are here to help us. Please don’t be afraid. Cally, take a hold of Linda and make sure you don’t let go. Timothy, Mark, watch the little ones."

Melinda turned to Caleb and looked at him as if to say â€˜Well?’

"Doc?"

The field healer moved forward to examine each child briefly. He stopped at one girl who held a toddler in her arms. The toddler was feverish and shivering. He took her from the girl and administered a small potion, then he turned to Caleb.

"There are a lot of problems here, Sir, but nothing the healers can’t fix. This one," he gestured to the little girl he held in his arms protectively, "needs help the most. I think we should leave immediately."

Caleb nodded and turned to two of his men. "Distribute the portkeys, then signal team two that we’re leaving the area."

One man nodded and moved out, pinning a small Celtic cross to the chest of each child. Once attached, he tapped the cross with his wand and the child vanished.

Melinda arched an eyebrow at Caleb. "Portkey," he murmured. "We’re taking them straight to Haven Hospital. You too."

Melinda struggled to keep pace with what was happening but her mind was refusing to help her. Haven? She had never heard of it.

Outside the church a member of Caleb’s team lifted a muggle flare gun and fired a blue star shell.

The residents of Welshpool huddled in their homes and wondered, fearfully, what the purpose behind the flare that lit their night sky was. Within thirty seconds of the flare appearing, all of the Haven personal were gone.

Haven Hospital…

Melinda stood swaying as the Pepper-Up potion wore off and the exhaustion that had been threatening for days finally overtook her. She looked around with dazed, bruised looking eyes and tried to process what she was seeing.

Healers rushed around, tending to the children and shouting orders to the medi-witches for nutrient mixtures and restoratives, fever-reducers and hydration potion. The children were tended where they stood, though the sickest, little Linda, was moved into another room. She wanted to follow, but her legs refused her mind’s command to do so.

She jumped when a hand touched her arm lightly.

"Miss McKinny?" Caleb Newman called, still touching her arm. "Are you all right?"

She tried to smile, to ease the concern on Auror Newman’s face. "Yes, I’m fine. Just a little dazed, I think," she said softly.

"I understand. Don’t worry. The hospital is top notch. You and the children will be fixed up, good as new. You’ll be safe here in Haven."

"Thank you, sir…. for everything. I don’t think I could have kept the children safe much longer…" Her voice faded away and she swayed dangerously.

"Here, let’s get you seated until a healer can look you over," Newman said, leading her to a chair and helping her sit down.

"Caleb!" a voice called over the din.

Newman looked up and saw Miles Pickerton weaving his way though the crowd towards him. Looking back at the exhausted woman, he smiled. "I need to give my report about the rescue. Stay here. The healers will be with you as soon as they can."

When she nodded, he turned away. Pickerton usually waited for Caleb to come to him with his report, but this mission had been a priority, and Miles felt personally responsible for its outcome, good or bad.

Melinda looked down at her feet, too tired to do anything but struggle to keep her eyes open. She hadn’t slept in two days; hadn’t eaten in more days than she could remember. Food had been scarce and everything she had managed to scavenge went to the children. Clean water had become a real concern during their last days in the old church. Sickness had begun to set in among the children and she had been unwilling to use magic to try to relieve their suffering. She’d managed to pick up a few muggle cold remedies from a store that had been looted, but she was unsure of their use. The instructions on the packaging had been simple enough, but she’d had no experience with muggle drugs and their effects.

The use of a few, simple spells would have gone a long way in keeping the children healthy, but her husband, Michael, had warned her not to use her wand the last time he had left them. He had told her that Voldemort’s forces were tracking the use of magic, and he had watched, helpless, as a group of Death Eaters had killed an entire family, five souls, who were doing nothing more than using a slicing hex to open tins of food.

He had been searching for a way out of England as soon as it had become obvious that Voldemort had taken control. They could have left earlier of course, but the staff at Mother Wilma’s had fled, leaving the children behind. Melinda wouldn’t leave them to fend for themselves, and Michael, an Auror, had refused to leave her.

But he hadn’t returned for six days. Then, three days ago, while she was out scavenging for food, she had found him. Every time she closed her eyes, she still saw her husband’s broken, battered body lying in a dirty ally next to a muggle restaurant. Beside him she had found a bag with a bit of food and two small bottles of apple juice that he’d managed to collect.

When the tears started, she brushed them away angrily. Michael was dead and there was nothing she could do about it.

"Exhaustion," a crisp voice said. "We’re seeing a lot of that in this group."

Melinda jerked around in her chair and watched, bemused, as a medi-witch walked towards her, holding a wand. She had gray hair, caring eyes, and a no-nonsense approach to patient care that Melinda appreciated.

"Dehydration and in need of food as well, I see," the woman said, smiling kindly. "You’ve had a time of it, haven’t you, my dear? Well, we’ll get you fixed up, don’t you worry." Reaching into the pockets of her robe, she pulled out two syringes and two bottles. "We’ll just get these into you and you’ll be right as rain."

"A hydration potion, a Pepper-Up potion and a nutrient mixture. I don’t recognize the second syringe, though," Melinda said, watching the older woman work.

"Are you a medi-witch or healer, perhaps?"

"Healer."

"Ah! Well, don’t be concerned over not recognizing the second syringe, my dear. This is something we’ve come up with here at Haven Hospital. It’s a simple immune booster potion, but we’ve found that it works quicker if injected."

"Immune booster?" Melinda asked, puzzled. "Is there something wrong with my immune system?"

"It’s a little worn down, dear, and you’ve been surrounded by children for some time, some of whom are sick. Bless them, they’re usually the first to catch a cold, and not particular in who they pass it to."

Melinda huffed a laugh as the medi-witch injected the immune booster and stood up.

"The children should be released shortly, then you can all leave," the kindly witch said, patting Melinda on the leg. "You just sit here and rest."

When she bustled away, Melinda frowned. As the Pepper-Up worked its way through her system once more, her foggy mind began to clear. She had seen the children to safety, but wasn’t sure what to do next. As a Healer, she could tend to their injuries, but she and Michael had never had children of their own.

They’ll need a home. Someplace they can feel safe in. And food, they’ll need food. And most of them need more clothes…Her thoughts trailed off as the magnitude of what still needed to be done for the children sank in. As panic began to well up within her, she shoved it aside. If she could find Auror Newman, he might help her.

She gazed around the room, looking for him. Across from her sat two women. The younger of the two had a nasty cut on her hand, currently being healed by the same medi-witch who’d seen to her own treatment. The older woman watched, her eyes wide, as the cut was sealed and the skin around it cleaned.

Looking towards the door they’d taken a little Linda through, Melinda saw that she had been treated and was coming towards her looking confused. The other children approached her with varying expressions of wonder, exhaustion, bewilderment and relief. Once she had gathered them around her, making sure they were seated and as comfortable as possible, she looked around once more.

Thirty feet or so down the hall, she finally spotted Auror Newman. He was leaning towards a rather distinguished looking gray haired man, obviously trying not to be overheard by those who passed close to them. As she watched, a frown playing over her features, he turned in her direction and pointed. The gray haired man looked at her, nodded and began to walk towards her, Newman in tow.

Before they could reach her, a tall, balding, redhead slipped between two healers, raised his arm and called out. "Miles! I’ve been looking for you."

Auror Newman and the gray haired man stopped and waited. Once the red haired man had joined them, there was a brief, whispered conversation. Then, as one, all three turned to face her.

The man she assumed to be Miles smiled at her and closed the remaining distance between them. "Miss McKinny?" he asked.

"Mrs. McKinny, yes," Melinda replied, standing. "And you must be Miles." When he frowned, she flickered her eyes to the redhead, who shrugged and straightened his glasses.

The man sighed. "Yes, I’m Miles Pickerton, Minister of Defense here in Haven."

"Minister of…what? I thought the Ministry had fallen?" she asked, puzzled.

"The building, yes. But the Ministry’s been reformed here in Haven under Minister Bones."

"I see," she replied, thinking she was really much too tired to be dealing with politics. "So, is there something I can do for you, Minister?"

"It’s more in the manner of what we can do for you, Mrs. McKinny," the redhead said quietly.

When her gaze swung to him, Miles cleared his throat. "This is Arthur Weasley, ma’am. He’s the Minister for Magical Relations."

"I see," she repeated, although she really didn’t. She didn’t like politics, and currently had the headache to prove it.

"Yes, well, we’ve been discussing what to do with you and your children," Arthur told her.

"My children? Oh, you mean the kids from Mother Wilma’s."

"Yes. We’ve set up the community kitchen, you see." At her blank look, he tried again. "We weren’t really expecting you, you understand. And as there are a great number of you, we needed to find some place to put you, at least until something better can be found. We’ll provide you all with cots and blankets, and you can sleep in the community kitchen." Arthur just managed not to grimace, but barely. He was bungling this, and he knew it. Something about the woman’s direct, green-eyed gaze had his tongue tied in knots.

"The community kitchen?" she asked. "Well, I suppose it’s safer than the church…"

"What’s this? The kitchen? Out of the question!" a voice called out, sounding appalled.

Melinda peeked around Auror Newman and saw the woman sitting across from her stand up and bustle towards them.

Miles grimaced, then turned with a smile. "Mrs. Johansen, so nice to see you."

The woman waved her hand, as though brushing that away. "You cannot put these children in the community kitchen, Minister or no! Men, you all are the same! These babies need a home, love, and good food! Community kitchen? Hrumph!"

"It was only a temporary solution, Mrs. Johansen," Miles replied, backing away from the short, round woman.

"It is no solution," she told him, tipping her head back to meet his eyes. When he looked away from her, she turned towards the children. "Ah, what beautiful babies. There will be no kitchen for you, my darlings. No! You come with me now. Mama will take care of you all. Come." She clapped her hands together twice, picked up two of the youngest children and, with the others following closely, bustled down the hall and out of the hospital.

The younger woman, her cut healed, shrugged when everyone turned towards her.

"Mama loves children," she told them simply, almost apologetically. "And while you may have had other ideas, now that she has them, you won’t take them from her without a fight."

"That’s all right, Inga," Miles said tiredly. "If the three she’s raised are any example, she’s just what those children need right now."

Inga blushed prettily, dipped her head quickly, acknowledging the compliment, and then hurried after her mother.

Into the silence that followed, Arthur turned to Miles and smiled broadly. "I think that went rather well, don’t you?"

Miles rolled his eyes. "All right, now that the children have been taken care of, we need to send a message to Harry, Caleb. Mrs. McKinny, it was nice to meet you."

As the two men walked away, Arthur cleared his throat. "If you’ll follow me, Mrs. McKinny? I’ll help you get settled. There’s an empty cottage nearby you can use. It would have been too small with all the children, but it should do you fine."

"Thank you, Minister."

"Oh, no, we’re not that formal around here. My name is Arthur."

"Arthur, then. Thank you. I’m Melinda." When he simply stood and looked her, she raised an eyebrow. "I believe you mentioned something about a cottage, Arthur?"

"What? Oh, yes, the cottage." He blushed furiously. "If you’ll just follow me?" At her nod, he led her from the hospital feeling like a bumbling teenager.

Padfoot Manor…

Harry sat at the desk in his study reading Cathal’s journal. At least that was what he tried to tell himself he was doing. He had retreated to his study after dinner and tried to keep himself busy. It wasn’t working. He was too worried about the mission to rescue the children from Mother Wilma’s home.

The knowledge that the orphans had been left behind by accident angered him greatly, but as he had explained earlier, yelling about it wouldn’t solve the problem.

At a nearby table, Hermione sat quietly with Emma and Dan, talking about magical theory.

He glanced up at the clock. The mission had been scheduled to leave at twenty hundred and it was now twenty thirty. If all went well, they should have portkeyed to the hospital a few minutes ago.

Harry stood and paced in front of his window. He could see the hospital in the distance, but that was of no help. He thought about heading over there to see if there was news, but he didn’t. He remembered the conversation he’d had with Miles this morning.

"If I might make a suggestion, Harry?" asked Miles.

"Of course you can. You know I value your advice," replied Harry.

"What you’ve done this morning is exactly what a leader is supposed to do. You’ve pointed out several uses for the elves and assigned people to get the job done. Now the trick is for you to avoid the SOTSS."

"SOTSS?"

"Yes. I call it â€˜Sitting On The Shoulder Syndrome’ or SOTSS for short. It’s when a leader gets so involved that he tries to run every aspect of an operation, when he can’t possibly do so. Pick your people and let them run with the jobs you give them. They will respect you for it, and deliver what you ask of them," Miles said quietly.

"SOTSS. It’s harder than it sounds." Harry sighed and stared out the window at the building lit up in the distance. He stood close enough that his breath fogged the window pane.

There was a popping noise behind him. He spun around quickly to see an unknown elf snap off a salute. He blinked, surprise, and then returned the salute.

"Dispatch from Commander Pickerton and Leftenant Black, Sir!" snapped the elf, offered him a piece of parchment.

Harry shot a poisonous glance at Dan, who snickered, before he took the message from the elf. Scanning it briefly, he scribbled a reply on the back of the message before giving it back to the elf. "Return this to… er… Commander Pickerton," Harry said, privately wondering if Miles gave himself that rank or if it had been the elf’s doing.

"Sir!" said the elf, and then he promptly vanished.

Harry turned back to the window, leaned his head against the cool glass and closed his eyes. He whispered silent thanks as he felt the tension draining from his body.

"Harry?" asked Hermione.

"They got them all out safe. Everyone’s back, everyone’s safe," he said quietly.

Hermione glanced at her parents who smiled broadly at the news. She stood, quickly walked to Harry and wrapped her arms around him from behind. He turned in her embrace and wrapped his own arms around her. He could handle going into danger, but sending others was a feeling he hated and he knew it was something he would have to get used to.

Padfoot Manor Kitchen early morning (May 1st)…

Hermione padded into the kitchen of the Manor house in search of a cup of soothing tea to help her go back to sleep. Harry’s conversation with her and Remus about the Rite of Summoning had stirred some deep feeling in her. She had always assumed that when she fell in love with a man, she’d pick someone who shared her faith. It wasn’t a case of Harry not sharing her faith as much as it was a case of him simply not knowing enough about any faith, let alone hers. And that left her with a bit of a moral dilemma.

She could tell Harry about her own faith and perhaps bring him into the fold, or she could expose him to tenets of many faiths and let him decide. The thought that he might not pick any faith never really crossed her mind. Nor did the concept of giving him up over something like religion. But it was an important issue to her and one that she needed to explore with him. His moral viewpoint was decidedly honorable and Christian in nature, even if he didn’t think of himself as a Christian.

She stopped and shook her head. It never ceased to amaze her what thoughts popped up in her mind when she was tired. She rarely allowed her mind to wander. Her mind was, in her opinion, her greatest asset, despite Harry’s comments about her body. She moved into the kitchen and paused when she heard a sound coming from behind one of the counters.

Hermione walked around the counter and was shocked to see Winky the house elf sitting on the floor, weeping softly. She knelt next to the elf and placed a hand on her shoulder. Winky jumped and spun around to face her. As soon as she saw who it was, the little elf began to back away.

"Winky? Are you alright? Why are you crying? Has someone made you unhappy?" asked Hermione in a worried tone.

"Winky sorry for disturbing Mistress," Winky said, her eyes huge. Enormous tears dropped from her eyes, leaving small puddles on the floor.

"Winky, don’t be afraid of me, please. I want to help you."

"Mistress can’t help Winky. Winky is doomed elf."

"Doomed? How are you doomed? Has someone threatened you?" Hermione asked, beginning to get angry.

"No, Mistress. Other elves tell Winky the truth about being employed by Master Harry. Winky is unowned and will go insane!" wailed the little elf.

Hermione’s anger flared at hearing the news. She knew that now that Winky had been told, she stood a real chance of insanity. Hermione made a decision that some would call spur of the moment, others would call insane. But those who truly knew her would call it a â€˜Hermione moment’.

"Winky, stop that. If Master Harry won’t accept your bond then I’ll accept it myself!"

Without realizing it, Hermione had, in one blinding moment of compassion, derailed SPEW now and forever.

Winky looked up at Hermione in shock. "Mistress would do this for Winky?"

Hermione nodded, trying to reassure the little elf. She felt a subtle connection and Winky looked up at her, smiling shyly.

"Sit, Mistress! Winky get you your tea!" The little elf stood up suddenly, her expression joyous.

Hermione let the little elf seat her at a nearby table as the magnitude of what she had just done began to sink in. Later, after a hurried cup of tea, she practically flew up the stairs to their bedroom. She climbed onto the bed and poked Harry in the shoulder.

"Harry!"

"Mmmph," he said, rolling over.

"Harry! I can’t believe what I’ve done! Oh, how could I?"

Harry rolled over to face her and opened one eye. "Hermione, it’s not time for potions class yet. Let me sleep."

She shook him when his eyes closed again. "Harry, it’s important!" she said.

He cracked his eye open again. "Honestly, Hermione, I did not look at Susan in her bikini last summer."

Hermione blinked, then her expression changed. With a single heave, she pushed Harry out of the bed. He fell with a loud thump, tangled in the blankets. Ten seconds passed, a half minute, then finally Harry poked his head over the edge of the bed.

"Hermione? Why am I on the floor?"

"You fell out of bed, Harry. But that’s not important! You won’t believe what I’ve just done," she said. Her eyes starting to tear up.

Harry stood and pulled the blankets up with him. Throwing them on the bed, he followed them down, wondering if he could get back to sleep. "All right, what happened?" he asked.

"I let Winky bond with me!" Hermione said, then her tears started.

He wrapped his arms around her and fought to control the mad giggles that threatened to escape. There goes SPEW, he thought, cackling mentally.

"Hermione, slavery is a state of mind. Let Winky work for you, be her friend. She’ll help you and, in the long run, you’ll understand elves better because of it," he whispered in her ear.

She pulled away enough to look into his eyes and she could see the laughter bubbling up behind his gaze. Her lips twitched and then she laughed weakly.

Harry held her close and they eventually drifted off to sleep.

The Dragon Preserve, Romania…

Charlie Weasley helped himself to some of the buffet breakfast in the community kitchen maintained by the preserve. As a bachelor, eating in the kitchen was a luxury he rarely missed out on. It was a much quieter and more subdued group of handlers these days. They came from all over the world to work and study at the preserve, but there had been a more than a few from England.

Charlie sighed and wished for word, any word, from his family. He had not heard from his mother or father for three weeks and the fear was gnawing at him. He looked up in surprise when the large international delivery owl swooped down and landed in front of him, offering him a sealed parchment. He was surprised to see the letter had come from a letter drop at the Irish Ministry of Magic.

With trembling hands, he broke the seal and began to read.

Dear Charlie,
If you’ve been listening to the news then I know you must be worried sick about us all. So let me tell you, here at the start of this letter, that Dad, Bill, Fred, George and I are safe and no longer in England. Ronald is missing and we’re pretty sure he is dead; killed by Acromantulas while he was attacking another student.

Mum is also missing and no one has heard from her. She dropped out of sight right around the time of the change of government. I’m afraid the break between her and Dad was quite bitter and, as a result, we lost contact with her.

As I said at the start of this letter, we’re safe, but we’re hurting and need you, dear Charlie. This has been a terrible year for our family, for our country, and right now we need you. We’re in Ireland. I won’t say where, but if you come to Cork and contact either Dad or me via owl, we’ll come to get you. Come as soon as you can, Charlie. Our family needs you! Quit your job, take time off, do whatever you have to, but come home Charlie. We need you.
Love Always,
Ginny.

Charlie felt a hand on his shoulder and he looked up to see his boss, Matt Logan, looking down at him with sympathy in his eyes.

"Letter from home, eh?"

"Yes, sir," Charlie replied.

"I’ll put you in for a leave of absence, Charlie. Nearly every one of our British handlers has done the same thing. I’m surprised you held out as long as you did."

Charlie ducked his head to hide the fact that his eyes were tearing up.

"Go pack. And don’t forget to let us know how you’re doing from time to time," Matt said gently.

Charlie nodded numbly, then stood and walked out of the building, heading for his quarters.

An hour later, Charlie was packed, his belonging in a rucksack slung over his shoulder, and he was apparating northeast, hitting the international apparation checkpoints as he went.

Hogwarts Castle…

Lucius entered the Great Hall and stepped carefully on the slippery surface. In the last day Voldemort had attempted to send nearly twenty of his followers to various locations around the world. He had ordered men to apparate to Paris, Rome, Milan, Barcelona, and Dublin, even to Moscow, all with the same effect. He tried Portkeying men to Cairo, New Delhi, New York and Hong Kong. He had even tried tapping into the International Floo Network. Shortly after the men vanished, they’d reappear and explode in a soundless display of gore. The Great Hall was proof of that as two Death Eaters supervised a group of muggle women struggling to clean up the mess.

"Lucius! Send word to Antonin via owl. Tell him to continue sending men to me, but save some for himself. We won’t be able to mark the men he keeps for now and we seem to be unable to send any marked men off the island. Also, tell him to step up his efforts to find Harry Potter!" Voldemort said with a snarl.

Lucius bowed his head in acknowledgement, but he was beginning to get a bit worried. Privately he admitted that it seemed Harry Potter had accomplished the impossible. And he was forced to marvel at the power it must have taken. Imagine! Warding an entire country!

"I will owl Antonin immediately, my Lord," Lucius replied.

Voldemort peered up at Lucius for a minute. "Well, Lucius, you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t have something to report. Speak!"

"My Lord, the guards inform me that the spy, Snape, has asked for you. When I spoke to him, he told me that he has run into a problem with the ritual he had been researching. To be honest, my Lord, potion making was never my best subject, so I am unable to judge the validity of this excuse. I do think you should talk to him since you are a master of the subject."

Voldemort sat back in his chair, looking thoughtful. "Very well. I will see the spy when I have the chance."

Lucius bowed and retreated to the door.

Ballincollig, County Cork, Ireland…

Albus Dumbledore was confused. For several days the muggle television in his rented room had broadcast what they called the â€˜British Crisis’, and then the news had dried up. The news continued for another day or two, reporting mostly on speculation and wild stories. Even Dumbledore laughed when one reporter announced that satellite photos had shown dinosaurs in Hyde Park.

He wasn’t sure what a satellite was, but he was sure that it couldn’t be working properly if it was seeing dinosaurs. The sudden loss of interest by the Muggle media puzzled him until he realized that the Magical Governments must be controlling the media like they did during the last Muggle world war.

He had visited Stonewall Lane once to go to Gringotts and then to pick up some supplies. His room now contained several detectors keyed to the magical signature of Harry Potter, as well as a few keyed to Hermione Granger. He had one detector that was extremely limited in range, but that detector, unlike the others, would provide apparation coordinates.

The detectors were crude. They would basically point in a direction and that was it. He didn’t have the time, or the supplies, to make anything more sophisticated. He hoped he’d be able to use the crude detectors until he got close enough to use the one which gave him coordinates.

Several times over the last few days his local detector chimed, letting him know that another witch or wizard was in the area, but the signal never lasted long. Albus figured it was just part of the local Wizarding population.

A New Home…

"Mama! Mama, where are you?" Helga cried, as the front door of the house slammed shut. Dodging around children and sleeping bags, she ran into the kitchen, Inga hot on her heels.

"Helga, what’s gotten into you, girl? We do not slam doors," Olga Johansen scolded. "And Inga, you should know better than to run in the house."

"But mama, you must come see," Inga said, as Helga grabbed her mother’s arm and pulled.

"See what?"

The front door slammed shut once more and Olga rolled her eyes.

"Mama, where are you?" Sven called out, making a beeline for the kitchen. "You must come see."

Upon entering the kitchen, he skidded to a halt and grinned, seeing Helga trying to tug her mother towards the front door as Inga danced from foot to foot.

"Come now," he said, grabbing Olga’s other arm and helping Helga drag her to the door. "I spoke with Mr. Lupin today and you must come see."

"See what?" Olga burst out. "And what about the babies? I can’t leave them here alone!"

"Yes. I mean no, no we won’t. Come children! All of you follow me now," Sven said, the excitement obvious in his voice.

Throwing the door open, Papa Johansen dragged his wife from the house, his newly enlarged family following behind, many looking bewildered. They walked just outside the town of Haven as Papa continued to rave. As they rounded a small bend and the trees gave way, they spotted a large group of what looked to be children putting blue shutters on a newly built three-story farmhouse.

"Children?" Olga asked, horrified. "They make children build houses?" She jerked out of her husband’s grasp and glared at him. "Sven Johansen, how could you?"

"Not children," Inga said, laughing merrily. "You know Papa would not allow that. They’re house elves, Mama!"

"House elves? The creatures Johan told us about, from Hogwarts?"

"Yes, Olga," Sven said. "The very creatures. As I said, I spoke with Mr. Lupin today and he told me about this house. Since we’ve taken in the children, Mr. Lupin has ordered this house build, on Mr. Potter’s orders if I understand correctly. The house, it is already furnished. He, Mr. Potter that is, wants to make sure we have all we need to care for the children, you see."

Olga’s eyes widened and she looked first at her husband, then at the lovely new house. "Oh, Sven, how wonderful!" She spun quickly then and clapped her hands twice. "Children, our family has a new home. There will be no more sleeping on the floor, no more sleeping bags." As the kids stared at the new house with wide eyes, she bustled about giving out hugs and kisses indiscriminately.

Sven took the hand of one young girl and led the way to their new home. Inga and Helga followed suit, each taking the hand of a child and chasing after their father.

"Oh, how wonderful," Olga repeated, her eyes damp. When a small hand crept into hers, she looked down and smiled at the young boy. "Come, my dear Robert. Let us go home." When he smiled up at her, his eyes bright, she laughed. "Now children, don’t forget to thank the nice house elves…"

Author’s Notes:

First, Bob and I are sorry about the delay in this chapter. Bob is having some problems with Word, and I’ve been sick. Now, on to the questions.

True, the Outcasts aren’t spending as much time together as they did at Hogwarts. But then again, they all have jobs to do now. They will come together again over time

Is Snape going to die? Patience, Grasshopper, all will be revealed in time!

This is going to be a two-part story. We’re not sure we have the energy for a trilogy!

Remus was serious about the amount of money Harry has. If you think you’re shocked, you should have seen poor Hermione! Bob almost gave her mouth-to- mouth…lecher that he is! Besides, Kinsfire beat him too it! (For those of you who don’t understand that joke, go read Kinsfire’s stories and join his Yahoo group)

Don’t worry about Hermione and the house elves. As you can see by this chapter, she’s about to learn a great deal about them and the bond between elf and mistress!

How much time do we spend writing? I’m not sure. We write several hours a day, but we’ve never timed it.

Mrs. Weasley is now Ms. Prewett, and you’ll find out more about Molly’s whereabouts in the next chapter.

Just to clear this up before folks start the "But, but, but…" routine. Dumbledore left Britain before Harry’s barrier went up. Would he have been able to cross it? Interesting question…and one we’re not going to answer :p

A reviewer asked: "Do you just kill random people, or is there certain people who die for like, a reason?" Answer: We don’t kill randomly. We kill people for, like, a reason. But let’s be serious here. This is war, and thousands have died, or will die, before it’s over. However, when we mention someone by name, and then kill them, we have a reason for it. Maybe we don’t like them, maybe they were annoying us, maybe we just got tired of writing about them, or maybe they left us a bad review. In any case, there’s always a reason for our madness… :D

The press conference will happen in chapter three.

Freezing in Provo, are you? It’s 16 degrees here in Northern Idaho and dropping rapidly!

No, we’re not published writers. And though we’ve thought about writing an original story, we keep getting attacked by Harry Potter plot bunnies. I swear the damn things are rabid.

I asked Bob about the Pet Peeves, but he growled at me. I’m not sure if that means you’ll be getting more or not. I’m usually pretty good at translating his grunts and growls, but that one was beyond me :D Actually, he’s run out of Peeves and doesn’t want to repeat himself. He’s asked me to tell you that he’s willing to consider candidate Peeves over on our Yahoo group, but you’ll have to include an example of what it is you’re Peeved about.

Bob says there will be no shedding of tears over your willies! ~Blinks~ Robert, that was disgusting! I can’t believe you made me type that! ~Huffs~

England, Scotland, Wales = Britain. Yes, we’ve got it. Now, could someone please remove the boot from my arse? It makes it rather painful to sit down. ~Winces~ And yes, we know the good folks of Wales are probably not pleased with us. However, as we’ve not heard from them, we pretend that they are, so there :p

Voldemort’s lost the war already? Damn, maybe we should just stop writing :p Okay, so it’s no secret that Voldemort’s going to lose, but don’t you want to know HOW?

A review said: "I just hope you do not derail as the story progresses." Well, now you all know whom to tar and feather if we do! Derail? Come one, what are we? Amtrak?

Do we intend to deal with the other magical creatures left behind in Britain? No. As Harry is quickly discovering, you can’t save everyone.

We have one reviewer requesting a cliffy. Ya’ll can look over the reviews to find who that is and yell at him when we give you one.

Voldemort is a bit more willing to put up with Lucius’ lack of subservient behavior now that he’s lost Wormtail and so many other servants. After all, what’s a Dark Lord without servants? But he’ll only let it go so far before he reminds Lucius of just who’s in charge.

Yes, you can download the files if you want. We won’t be converting them to PDF files, but you can save them as HTML and read them offline.

Well, that’s it, folks. The next chapter of Sunrise should be out shortly. Again, we’re sorry about the delay. We hope you enjoyed chapter two!

~Bob and Alyx~

Back to:: Harry Potter » Sunrise Over Britain

Sunrise Over Britain
Chapter 2 - Orphans and a Hermione Moment

By Bobmin

Sunrise Over Britain Chapter 2 - Orphans and a Hermione Moment

By Bobmin

Sunrise Over Britain
Chapter 2 - Orphans and a Hermione Moment