Sunrise Over Britain

Chapter 1 - Beginnings


Standard Disclaimer:

Severus Snape slowly woke up. Realizing he was wet, and that was an experience he hadn’t had while waking up since he turned thirteen. Opening his eyes he blinked and also realized he was tied up… and in a cauldron?

Looking around he could see a staff dancing around the outside of the cauldron. A top the staff was a bloody human skull. Somewhere a drum beat wildly. He leaned to one side in time to see Filius Flitwick dancing around the cauldron. He wore only a leopard skin loincloth and he had a six inch bone through his nose.

Harry Potter and Hermione Granger walked into sight. Harry was dressed in an handsome Tuxedo and Hermione graced his arm wearing a sequined evening gown.

“POTTER!” Snarled Snape. “Get me out of here!”

Harry smiled. “I’m sorry Professor, but I can’t. You see, you haven’t said the magic words. Besides, tonight Hermione and I are playing a new game. I’m pretending to be a actor named Daniel and she’s going to be my love lust Goddess named Emma.”

“If you would just say the words Professor, I’m sure Bob and Alyx would let you out,” offered Emma sweetly.

Snape snarled, then sighed. “Oh very well. The authors of this story would like you to know that they do not own the Potterverse. They further insist that I tell you that any resemblance I might have to someone named Alan Rickman is purely an accident and I am really a cruel snarky bastard that doesn’t bathe often enough.”

“You had to add that didn’t you?” Growled Alyx.

“Hush, watch Filius,” replied Bob.

Filius climbed into a cab of a large truck and backed it up to the cauldron. Flipping a switch the back started to open and fish poured into the cauldron.

“What?” asked Alyx.

“Evil Mutant Sea Bass with friggen Lasers on their heads,” Bob said smugly.

Alyx looked skyward and wondered if Dorothy had these kind of problems.

*** IN CASE NO ONE CAN TELL, THIS IS AN AU FICTION AND THE SEQUEL TO SUNSET OVER BRITAIN. IF YOU HAVEN’T READ THAT STORY, PLEASE DO SO. WE STRONGLY SUGGEST IT OTHERWISE YOU WILL BE LOST AND WE WILL NOT SEND OUT A SEARCH PARTY FOR YOU.***





* * *



Sunrise Over Britain

Chapter 1



* * *





Brighton Beach, England (April 28th)…

“Mama, you must eat and drink something. You need to keep your strength up,” Tripuri said. When the other woman showed no signs of hearing her plea, she sighed in resignation.

Tripuri placed the bowl with the cold soup off to the side in the hope that perhaps later she could get her mother to eat. She then moved to the back of the store, away from her mother, and wept.

Shortly after the fall of Hogwarts, Voldemort’s forces had come for them. They had escaped, though not without her mother being injured in the ensuing fight for freedom, and had been on the run ever since. Tripuri was a full healer, but could do little for her mother’s injuries without the proper potions.

She jumped when she felt a hand touch her shoulder.

“No change?” asked Gurprit. His eyes were haunted by the sights and sounds of the last two weeks.

“No, Papa, she gets weaker everyday. If we can’t find help soon, we’ll lose her. She took too many hits from those men, and now she refuses to eat anything. She wants to talk to Padma and Parvati,” Tripuri said, her eyes brimming with tears.

Gurprit sat heavily on a chair and his shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Did you hear any news? Or find any food?” asked Tripuri. They had been hiding in this business for four days now. During the summer months it was a t-shirt store but it was closed for the winter months and would probably not reopen anytime soon… if ever.

“Precious little of both. I found a few cans of food that don’t look as if they’ve been damaged too badly by fire,” he told his daughter. “Rumor has it the Queen is dead and V-V-Voldemort has been declared her successor. There are rumors of fighting up north, elements of the Muggle army still loyal to the crown. Among the wizards, the rumors are even stranger.

“There’s talk of foreigners arriving and taking the mark to serve the Dark Lord. And they’re saying that anyone who takes the mark will be fed and cared for. The British Wireless network is gone, but some say they can still hear the stations from France and Ireland…”

“Gurprit? Is that you?” came a wavering voice.

Gurprit surged to his feet and quickly walked to his wife. “Shh, my Shaila, you must rest. You must save your strength,” he urged, kneeling beside his wife.

Shaila smiled at her husband of forty years. “I know my time comes to an end, husband. I want to write a letter to send to Padma and Parvati,” she said.

Gurprit shot a glance at Tripuri, who shook her head. Apparently his wife was so far gone she had forgotten that Padma and Parvati had died when Hogwarts fell. He wiped the tears from his eyes and, smiling, he reached for a piece of paper and pulled a muggle pencil from his pocket.

“Tell me what you want to say. Tripuri’s owl will take the letter when it’s done,” he said gently, fighting back tears.

An exhaustive hour later, Gurprit offered the paper to Tripuri’s owl. The small gray bird looked at him for a moment, and then he did something totally unexpected. He snatched the paper from Gurprit and exited the building through a broken window.

Father and daughter exchanged amazed looks. The owl wouldn’t have accepted the letter if the girls were dead. The two watched the speck disappear into the gray sky and knew hope wasn’t dead after all.





* * *



Reactions…

The fall of Britain came as a major shock to the world. For several days the world teetered on the edge of a world wide financial collapse, following on the heels of the fall of the British Pound. The Euro lost more than eighty percent of its value as people realized that the European Union had lost one of its most powerful economies. The Dollar and the Yen shot up in response to the loss. Fortunes were made and lost in hours as the markets fluctuated by hundreds of points.

The flood of refugees from Britain, once an uncontrollable tidal wave, inexplicably slowed, then stopped. News from the island itself had been reduced to a trickle, mostly reports of unrest and disaster. Flyovers by reconnaissance aircraft and satellites showed the cities of Manchester, London, Aberdeen and Leeds to be burning, and there was no sign of organized attempts to control the fires.

To add confusion to the mix, the naval forces now patrolling British waters were reporting a visible and unknown curtain of energy, averaging ten to fifteen miles from the coastline, and surrounding the island. Governments immediately classified the information and a complete news blackout was imposed on the naval forces. That kept news of the curtain from leaking any more than it had, but it also left the various governments with the problem of hundreds or thousands of sailors with knowledge of the strange occurrence.

The night the curtain appeared, most of Europe suffered brownouts and total loss of electricity as all of Northern Europe was treated to a massive aurora light show. The Muggle governments tried to explain the strange event as a confluence of an intense solar wind hitting one particular part of the atmosphere and causing a localized Aurora and disruption of the local power grids.

Of course the curtain wasn’t totally unknown. In fact, every head of every Muggle government had been informed by its Magical counterpart that the curtain had been their doing, and that it must be ignored - the very knowledge of it suppressed.

The Magical Governments had conferred among themselves even before the line had been erected. Ireland was playing host to Harry Potter and the other Governments opted to defer to Ireland’s Ministry in this regard. However, the purpose of the line was still unknown. The Irish Ministry had been scheduled to meet with Harry Potter and his advisors, but due to injuries suffered in his battle with Voldemort, he was unable to meet with them for a few more days.

One thing was certain. The Irish Ministry was telling all the other Governments that Harry Potter had sealed most of Voldemort’s forces within the island of Britain. And for that reason alone, the Wizarding world breathed a sigh of relief. The worst wasn’t over, not by any means. But somehow, Harry Potter had bought time for the Wizarding Governments to take action.





* * *



Padfoot Manor, Haven (April 30th)…

Hermione opened her eyes and stretched. She felt something move at the bottom of the bed and slowly wind its way up to her. Then it meowed.

“Good morning, Crookshanks,” she whispered and reached out to scratch the ears of her furry friend.

He responded by rumbling like a small freight train and pushing against her hand. Crookshanks’ climbed up higher on her until he was crouched down on her chest and she was grateful that the comforter protected her from his needle sharp claws as he kneaded it.

Hermione smiled at her familiar and lay there, idly scratching him. Next to her, Harry turned on his side. She glanced over to see if he was still asleep. His bout with the flu was past and he was back to his usual robust self, although she promised herself that she would make sure he didn’t over extend himself again. Surprisingly, even Harry seemed to be interested in preventing that.

When Crookshanks meowed once more, adding a trilling little questioning noise at the end, she laughed. Her familiar was reminding her, rather nicely for a change, that scratching his head was her primary duty in life… except when it came to feeding him, of course. She scratched his head a bit longer, then moved him off her chest so she could get out of the bed.

Crookshanks, being a cat, immediately found the warmest spot left on the bed by her absence and curled up next to Harry.

Hermione threw on her robe and padded, barefoot, into the bathroom. She loved the master bathroom. It was, in her opinion, sinfully decadent, with an enormous tub to relax in, or to entertain in. That thought made her blush, but she privately admitted that she enjoyed bathing with Harry, not that they had a lot of time for it anymore.

When she finally left the bathroom, relaxed and dressed, she was pleased to see that Dobby had brought up coffee and tea for them, laying out a continental breakfast on the table near the window. She had Dobby do this several times a week so that she and Harry would have some time to themselves.

Sitting at the table, she looked out the window and sipped at her tea. She enjoyed the morning tranquility and, not for the first time, wished that all their problems would go away so that they could be alone. Outside, birds flew from tree to tree and, somewhere on the grounds, a squirrel named Nutters vanished from sight as Hedwig ghosted silently back to the Manor owlery after a night of hunting.

She could see some of the buildings of Haven in the distance. She had to marvel at what Harry had managed to build here. He had pulled in the people, marshaled their talents and put them to work. The result was a burgeoning town of nearly three thousand people.

Harry sighed on the bed and reached for her. She smiled, watching him from her chair by the window. He’ll wake up soon, she thought. Once he began to reach for her and discovered she wasn’t there, he woke up looking for her. The first couple of times he had done it, she had been startled, but it was now strangely comforting. After spending most of her life sleeping alone, she had quickly adjusted to having him in bed with her and now needed him there to sleep comfortably as much as he needed her.

Sipping her morning tea, she idly leafed through the parchments on the table. She had taken charge of keeping track of Harry’s time, making sure he didn’t over extend himself again. Today, he was meeting with the Irish. He also had an afternoon session scheduled with Remus and Miles.

She smiled into her cup as Harry groaned and rolled out of the bed. Crookshanks immediately moved to his warm spot. He shuffled over to where she was sitting and kissed the top of her head before heading for the bathroom. In some ways, he was very predictable. He kissed her every morning before anything else, then started his day.

A little while later he stepped from the bathroom and, with his teeth now brushed, gave her a proper kiss. Then, pouring himself a cup of coffee, he sat down. “Mmmm… a kiss that tastes like tea and jam,” he commented.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “What do you expect when you kiss me like that and I’m in the middle of breakfast?” she asked archly.

“What I always expect,” he replied with a grin. “You always taste good enough to eat.”

He laughed softly as his innuendo caught her off guard. She blushed, and then she smacked him lightly, laughing with him. She couldn’t help but marvel at how much he had changed in the last year. How different he was from that sick boy at the beginning of last summer. He now sat beside her, a powerful, confident man. She wouldn’t admit it publicly, but he occasionally intimidated even her.

The events of the last weeks at Hogwarts had been a turning point for him. He had emerged out the other side more mature… a leader. His attitude was quiet, confident and his manner inspired confidence in others. She rather liked this Harry. This was the Harry she always knew he could grow into. The old, insecure Harry was still there and shone through on occasion, but he was rising to his challenges magnificently.

“Nothing on the line yet?” she asked him.

“Not a twitch, but I didn’t expect one yet.”

Hermione frowned. “Do you think he knows about it and has a way to bypass it?”

“Not a chance. I think I know what’s happening though. Do you remember how many Death Eaters he had when he attacked Hogwarts?”

“Yes, I remember,” she said quietly, trying to suppress the memory of what was one of the most frightening nights of her life. “It was around three hundred or so.”

Harry reached over and took her hand in his own. Turning it over, he kissed her palm softly before placing it back on the table and smiling gently. He leaned back in his chair then and sipped his coffee. Morning coffee was a habit he was becoming accustomed to since coming to Haven. Hermione wouldn’t touch the stuff, but he was quickly developing a taste for it.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said carefully. “I’ve been trying to put together some numbers in my head. As much as I hate to admit this, I must have killed or severely injured at least three hundred in the Ministry that day. If we then figure in the three hundred or so who accompanied him to Hogwarts, he had to have less than a thousand marked Death Eaters.

“I figure that, in that one day, I took away one third of that number. Then he used another third to attack the castle. Figure the final third was off busy at Azkaban or one of those new camps we’ve been hearing about. Now, O’Dalley says that Dolohov is here with at least one hundred and fifty Death Eaters, although I think he’s wrong.” At Hermione’s questioning look, he smiled grimly. “Oh, Dolohov is here with a group of Death Eaters, but not as many as O’Dalley thinks… … not until he recruits them, at any rate. So I don’t think we’ve felt a twitch on the line since it went up simply because Voldemort is short on help at the moment and is keeping most of his forces close to him.”

Hermione scribbled a few notes on a piece of paper and then looked up at him, frowning in thought. “If we go with your numbers, he has less than five hundred marked Death Eaters in Britain right now.”

He nodded. “I think so also. And that’s why he hasn’t tried to breech the line yet.” He sipped his coffee and reached for his schedule for the day. “Hmmm… Morning meeting with the Irish, I see. Well, it needs to be done. Now that I’m over the flu, there’s no sense putting it off. What are your plans for today?”

“I’m meeting with Remus this morning. He received a shipment of old books yesterday and I want to look though what he picked up,” she offered, hiding the real reason from him.

Harry nodded and then frowned. “Hermione, can you research dementors for me?”

She looked startled. Then her eyes narrowed. “We’ve been down this road before, Harry, even in our third year.”

“I know, but I was thinking about them last night and something doesn’t make sense. Did you know they only exist in the U.K. and nowhere else?” he asked.

She nodded but still looked at him blankly.

“Think, Hermione. There are ten different sub-species of dragon from all over the world. There are four sub-species of unicorns. Asian centaurs look differently than European centaurs. A North American Fairy is different from an English fairy. A Cornish Pixie looks nothing a Roman Pixie.

“So why is it that there’s only one type of dementor? One type, and they are found only in the U.K.? Even a Lethifold doesn’t look like them and isn’t related to them. It’s not normal. Why isn’t there an Australian version? Or a feared South American dementor that wears a sombrero and a poncho?”

“Harry, are you suggesting that someone made the dementors?” she asked incredulously.

He nodded grimly. “I think it’s a possibility. And if someone made them, they have to have a weakness we can exploit.”

She nodded and added the information to her notes. Like Harry, her days were becoming increasingly hectic. She had business that she had to do for the war, and for herself, and business she took upon herself to deal with because Harry wasn’t doing it. In that regard, she was protecting Harry’s interests and, by proxy, her own.

“You’re meeting with a head of state today. I think you should wear your Potter family robes,” she murmured, looking up from her notes.

Harry frowned. He had put on jeans and a t-shirt. Granted, he had already decided that wearing a T-Shirt that read, ‘I caged Voldemort, ask me how!’ would be inappropriate to wear when meeting with the Minister of Magic. Reluctantly, he nodded. A moment later, Dobby appeared and laid out his dress robes on the bed.

Harry blinked in surprise then leaned closer to Hermione. “How does he do that?” he whispered.

Hermione watched the little elf and tried to fight back a giggle. “I have no clue.” she replied, shaking her head.

Giving up, she laughed outright at Harry’s bewildered expression. Standing, she kissed his cheek and left him to dress while she started her own day.





* * *



Hogwarts Castle, The Great Hall…

Voldemort sat in his great chair and drummed his fingers idly against one arm of it. He had always dreamed that controlling Hogwarts, and the rest of the U.K., would be the pinnacle of his life. The reality, however, was turning out to be quite the opposite.

Sure, he had won Hogwarts, but it was an empty shell now. Its vast wealth of knowledge and lore had been stolen out from under his nose before he could even enter the castle. Fortunately, few knew that fact, and he had been very careful to limit the Death Eaters allowed into the building to the original group who had helped capture it, along with a few trusted lieutenants.

One of the downsides of this policy was that he had to travel to Little Hangleton and Riddle Manor to meet with his other servants. He would be doing just that this evening to mark over two hundred new servants.

Voldemort looked up from his brooding when Lucius entered the hall.

Lucius had proven adept at controlling the muggle officers that led his army and they were now in control of all but a few small pockets of resistance. The blond had studied the muggles extensively and had learned their ways. As a result, he was carefully controlling the muggle army to preserve key segments of the muggle infrastructure. Lucius wanted control over the media and communications, in particular. At first Voldemort had wanted all aspects of muggle society destroyed, but Lucius had explained the value of maintaining some industries and how they could be used to control the masses.

Lucius stopped short of his master and bowed low. He knew his master was a truly great wizard, probably the most powerful wizard alive, but it was his job to convince Voldemort to keep parts of muggle society whole and active. It was a job that was becoming increasingly difficult, since Voldemort didn’t understand the scope of what Lucius was dealing with.

“Well?” the Dark Lord snapped, his eyes flashing dangerously.

“My Lord, I’m pleased to announced that another pocket of muggle resistance has fallen. With the collapse of resistance in Inverness, all other pockets should soon fall. Most were taking orders from the remnants of British Army Command that had been holding out in Inverness. Brigadier Worthington is concerned about possible insurgencies at this point, and he does have reports of growing acts of sabotage.

“We have managed to preserve large sections of the media installations, as well as power facilities. Worthington still thinks he’s doing this for King and country,” Lucius said with a smirk, “as he now believes that Voldemort the First is the legal king of the United Kingdom.”

Voldemort allowed a small smile to tug at his taut lips, then he frowned again. “Tell me again why we are preserving so much of muggle life. Why don’t we just put them to work until they die or kill them outright?”

Lucius hid his sigh. It was an ongoing debate and he needed to make his master understand the importance of the muggles. “My Lord, we’ve gone over this and I have to apologize to you and beg your mercy. But please, let me try to explain to you the reasons why I push for a more lenient policy towards the muggles.”

Voldemort motioned with one hand for him to continue. “Explain then, Lucius. But know that my patience is wearing thin. If I didn’t know better, I would say you were afraid of these muggles,” he said, sneering.

“It’s not fear, my Lord, it’s respect for the one thing they have that we do not. Let me try to explain it this way. In Britain, we have… what? Sixty or seventy thousand wizards and witches, correct?”

Voldemort nodded grudgingly.

“That sounds like a lot, my Lord, but there are sixty million muggles in Britain. Sixty Million. They out number us one thousand to one. We can kill vast numbers of them, but they could swarm over us, if only they realized it. Knowing this, I am trying to keep those parts of muggle society together that can help control the masses. I have no doubt in your ability to reduce their population down to more manageable levels, especially when you understand the problem I have been dealing with, but it’s going to take time. Until it’s been done, however, we need to control them.”

Voldemort leaned back in his chair as he struggled with the concept. “Very well, Lucius, I see your point. Do what you have to, but keep the muggles under control. In the meantime, what other news have you for me?”

“My Lord, Antonin begs to know if you can release some of the Irish he has sent you so he can return some of your other servants.”

Voldemort reached for a parchment on a nearby table next to his chair. “There are some twenty Irish taking the mark tonight. Once they are marked, I will release them back to him and he can send back the twenty. Owl him and let him know about this change.”

Lucius bowed and backed away. “It shall be as you command, my Lord.”





* * *



Padfoot Manor, Harry’s personal study…

Harry, Amelia Bones and Arthur Weasley stood when Michael O’Dalley and Brogan Mallory entered the study. The study, with its comfortable high back chairs and quiet surroundings, made an excellent place to talk.

“Minister, it is a pleasure to finally meet you,” Harry said, smiling and holding out his hand.

“And I can say the same thing, Mr. Potter. An honor it is as well,” replied Mallory, taking Harry’s offered hand and shaking it.

Harry smiled at O’Dalley as he waved both men towards the chairs. The man had taken to spending considerable time here in Padfoot in the last week.

“Minister, I apologize for not being able to meet with you sooner…” Harry began as he sat down.

Mallory stopped him by holding up a hand. “No need to apologize, Mr. Potter. Michael here informed me of the reason behind the delay, and I’m certainly not going to be so churlish as to fault someone for being ill.”

Harry nodded in relief. Politicians were notoriously strange people and he wasn’t sure what he could expect from this man. After all, his greatest experience with this particular brand of wizard was his exposure to Cornelius Fudge.

“My primary reason for asking for this meeting, Mr. Potter, was to speak with you about Voldemort and what you have been doing.”

“Has Michael explained about the line, sir?” asked Harry.

“He mentioned something, but to be honest, I thought he must have misheard you. Warding a whole country?”

“That’s exactly what I’ve done, sir. There now exists a line of death extending some fifteen thousand kilometers around the island.”

“A line of death?” asked Mallory incredulously.

“Precisely that, Minister. The line, which is visible, will kill anyone carrying Voldemort’s mark. So you can take comfort from the fact that, while he may be bringing people into Britain and marking them, he is unable to send them out of the country.”

“So it’s just keyed to the dark mark?” asked Mallory.

Harry smiled thinly. “No, sir, keying to just the dark mark would have forced him to stop marking his people. The line is double keyed. If you carry the dark mark and cross the line, you die. If you don’t carry the dark mark, but have a black aura, you arrive at your destination very ill and in need of a potion that only the healers of Haven know how to brew. We don’t want Voldemort to send unmarked forces out of Britain. With an unmarked Death Eater arriving and feeling like he’s about to die, he will seek a healer’s help and we’ll find him.

“As you are aware, auras really aren’t a good indication of good or evil as much as they are indications of someone being susceptible to temptation. But from what I understand, anyone who has purposefully hurt another will darken his or her aura. Most of the Unforgiveables require an intent to cause harm, and we will rely on that intent to darken the auras of people.

“Our healers will have a good supply of the potion on hand. I suggest a joint task force to handle these people, Minister. One healer from Haven, along with a British Ministry Auror, will accompany two of your Aurors. I also suggest that the sick individual be given a truth serum before being given the antidote.”

O’Dalley rapidly scribbled notes while Harry spoke. Mallory considered Harry plan as objectively as possible, but he couldn’t help feeling elated. Harry had already eliminated the primary concern he had had.

“It’s a cruel solution, Mr. Potter, to interrogate before you cure,” offered Mallory, curious about the young man’s response.

Harry nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, sir, it is. But this is war, and we are sometimes forced to take actions that we would not normally take in more civilized times. Our enemy is a cruel enemy. He offers no terms or quarter. I am merely replying in kind to his own methods.”

“Mr. Potter,” Mallory started, very pleased by what he’d heard. Harry might be young, but he was definitely fighting a man’s war.

“Please, Minister, call me Harry,” he interrupted quietly.

Mallory’s grin broadened into a wide smile. “Very well then, Harry. I think we can do this. I’ll alert the other Ministries, but I think it’s a workable deal. What I’d like to do, however, is go public with some of the details about the ward you’ve put in place. My people are understandably nervous, being so close to Voldemort and Britain.”

Harry shook his head. “No, I think we should hold off on that for a few more days. Right now there hasn’t been a single breech of the line. I think it would be to our advantage to wait until Voldemort discovers what it does before announcing it to the world. However, I do realize the position this put you in. So I’ll make a counter offer you might find appealing. If you wait in announcing the existence of the line, I will personally stand by your side at the press conference when the announcement is made.”

Mallory’s eyes lit up hearing Harry’s offer. Such opportunities were rare, and here was the Boy-Who-Locked-Voldemort-In-Britain offering to participate in a joint news conference! “Your solution is acceptable, Harry,” he replied, trying to gush. “Now, turning to the business of the British Ministry in Exile, specifically the efforts to maintain the secrecy of our world…”





* * *



Irish Ministry of Magic, Office of Owl postings…

The small gray owl flew through the open window and made its way straight to a special desk that had been set up two days ago.

The clerk looked up in concern. The bird looked exhausted. “’ello girl. Let me just get your letter and send it on its way and then we’ll take care of you. You can rest before you have to leave again.”

The small owl hooted exhaustedly and offered up the letter.

The clerk removed the letter from the bird, set it aside, and then walked the worn out owl to a perch where it could rest. He then selected another bird from a special group set up for this very purpose.

He scanned the unsealed letter briefly, frowning, then gave it to the new owl. “Priority routing to Haven,” he told the bird before tossing it aloft. The bird circled once, twice, then flew out the open window.

With the letter on its way, he turned to the exhausted owl and began administering the care it needed to recover.





* * *



Padfoot Manor, Hermione’s personal study…

Hermione sat in front of her desk looking over some notes she’d taken. When Harry first showed her the room and told her it was for her own, personal use, she wasn’t overly impressed. It had a desk and a few bookshelves and that was about it. He had then told her to talk to Dobby about decorating the room to be what she wanted. Hearing that, she attacked the room with energy. Between Dobby, a few of the other elves and Hermione’s transfigurations, her study was now a very comfortable place for her to sit and read, or hold quiet conversations.

“You wanted to see me, Hermione?” asked Remus from the doorway.

“Yes, I did. Thanks for coming, Remus. I find myself in a difficult position and I’m unsure what to do about it,” she replied, waving her former professor to a seat.

“Oh? Well, if you tell me what the problem is, I may be able to offer some advice.”

“Harry’s shown me some of the reports you’ve sent him. I know this isn’t really my business, but is he really spending that much money every week to keep Haven going?”

He raised one eyebrow. “Actually, Hermione, I think the costs are going to go up for a while longer.”

She frowned and nibbled on her lower lip for a moment. “Blast! I just don’t know what to do.”

“What is the problem?” he asked, concerned.

She looked at Remus for a long moment, measuring him. “Alright, this is one of those ‘do it and I’m damned, don’t do it and I’m damned’ things. I might as well plunge right in. Look, I know I’m just Harry’s girlfriend, but I’m concerned about how much money he’s spending. I know I don’t have a right to be, but he doesn’t seem to care. Someone has to look out for his interests.” When Remus began to laugh, she frowned at him and crossed her arms.

Getting control of himself, he wiped away the tears of mirth and looked at her intently. “I expected to have this conversation with you sooner or later, Hermione. I remember James talking about a similar one he’d had with Lily in their seventh year, before he had asked her to marry him. Forgetting the fact that Harry is one of the wealthiest wizards on the planet, the Potter men have always had one particular… failing, if you will. Money. Harry, like his father and grandfather, would give his fortune away if it weren’t for the women in the family.

“From what I recall, Harry’s grandparents were the same way. The Potter men seem to have a knack for increasing the family fortune without really trying. I offer you the money he received from the Goblins for warning them about the upcoming troubles as an example. Anyway, as I was saying, the Potter men increase the fortune without really thinking about, and the Potter women make sure the fortune is there for the family.

“I realize you may be embarrassed, but I don’t think of you as being some sort of gold digger. If anything, you’re protecting your investment so that your children will be taken care of.” He chuckled when she blushed at the mention of children.

Hermione leaned back in her chair in relief. “So, what’s the solution, Remus? How do we do everything we need to do and make sure Harry doesn’t bankrupt himself in the process?”

“I can tell you a little of what I’ve done so far, but I’m open to more suggestions. For one thing, I have negotiated several loans to Amelia so that the Ministry in exile is funded. The loans are long-term loans with very favorable terms for Harry, but the Ministry will not be in any position to begin paying him back until we’ve returned to Britain.

“I know that it’s going to be important that Haven get up and running on its own two feet soon, so I’ve been on the lookout for opportunities that we can bring to Haven that will allow the residents to stand tall, get jobs…earn their keep, if you will, and bring some income in for Harry as well. Mind you, now that the bulk of the construction is completed in Haven, Harry could finance the running of the town for thirty years before he’d even notice the money being spent. But I do agree with you. We need to work on getting our residents productive and on their feet. It will be good for their morale.”

Hermione nodded thoughtfully. “I think I understand now. I’ll keep my eye open for opportunities as well. I’m sure there’s an idea out there just waiting for us to stumble upon. But about Harry… you’re saying this is something his father and grandfather also did?”

“Don’t misunderstand me. Harry isn’t doing this because his parents did. In Harry’s case, he simply has no idea of how to handle his fortune. He’s trying to learn, but between that and everything else, which do you think he’ll let slide?”

She grimaced. “Yes, he would consider this unimportant, despite the good he’s done with it.”

He nodded, and then looked up as Dan and Emma filed into the room.

“Thank you for your time, Remus,” Hermione said. “It was a most illuminating discussion. I’ll keep an eye out for what we talked about.”

Remus stood and smiled at Dan and Emma as they filed into the room. Hermione gave them each several hours of instruction in Arithmancy and Runes every morning, and in the evenings Harry gave them instruction in charms and defense. They went to the school for potion and transfiguration instruction, but Harry had been insistent that he teach them defense and, since so many charms were useful in that topic, he combined the two.

Hermione smiled up at her parents, her father in particular. Ever since Harry had powered up their cores he had spent hours learning spells and practicing. Emma was by far more advanced in theory, but Dan had the practical down pat.

“Hermione, watch this!” Dan exclaimed, brandishing his wand with a flourish. “Sive lepus” he chanted and pointed his wand at Hermione’s desk.

There was a popping sound and a white rabbit appeared on the desk. Hermione looked up at her father and smiled. Inwardly she wondered why Harry had taught her father such a useless spell. Another popping sound was heard and another rabbit appeared, then another and another, and another. Hermione’s eyes widened as she realized that Harry had given her father an open looped spell that would cycle forever and she fumbled for her wand, now buried under the bunny covered desk.

Emma sat in her chair tittering and Dan was laughing at the look on Hermione’s face. Unable to find her wand, she snatched up her staff. “Finite Incantatum!”

The popping noises ceased, but the bunnies remained. She banished the bunnies, then turned to see both her parents holding onto each other and laughing loudly. Placing her staff where it was easily reached, she also holstered her wand and faced her jocular pupils.

“Well, I see Harry’s been busy again. I think I’ll have a few words with him,” Hermione said in a huff.

“Oh, pumpkin, don’t be mad at Harry. He’s trying really hard to keep our interest but he’s in an awkward situation. We’re both much older than he is, and he sees us as your parents. For every spell we successfully master under him, he teaches us another fun spell. He thinks learning is easier if there is some fun involved,” offered Dan with a grin.

Hermione looked at the pair suspiciously. “So he’s teaching you useful and fun spells? What sort of fun spells?” she asked.

Dan and Emma looked at each other for a moment. “Well, the fairy lights was a fun spell,” offered Emma, “and so was the room coloring spell.”

“And there was the all-nighter. That one was quite enjoyable,” Dan said with a smirk.

Emma blushed and laughed nervously.

She gaped at her parents, shocked. With a groan, she buried her head in her hands.

“Hermione?” asked Emma in alarm.

She stared at her mother, then turned to her father, her face flaming. “Would you excuse us, Dad? I need to talk to Mum and teach her a few spells that I don’t think you’d be interested in. Remus is around, why don’t you go look him up?”

Dan looked at his daughter and knew she was upset about something. This was quite a role reversal for the two of them. With a puzzled look, he stood and left the room without comment.

Hermione watched him leave, and then turned to her mother, muttering. “I am so going to kill that boyfriend of mine! No person should have to give their parents the talk!”

She ignored Emma’s gasp as she tried to figure out how to proceed.

“Mum, there are a lot of sex spells that witches and wizards can use to enhance the experience. Unfortunately, most of them also have side effects which increase potency and fertility, sometimes to the point of overpowering muggle birth control methods…”

Emma blushed a bit, but cut in before her daughter could continue. “Dear, Harry also taught your father several contraceptive charms. Actually, it was one of the first things he taught your father. He wasn’t able to teach me the charms women use since he didn’t know them.”

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief and straightened in her chair. “I can teach you those, Mum. They aren’t hard.”

Emma nodded, but her eyes bored in on Hermione. “I’ve talked to Minerva and she explained that with the gift that Harry gave us, I could have children as late as my eighties. Does the thought that you might someday have a brother or sister bother you? Your father and I talked to Danni about this. I had a very rough delivery with you and that’s why we never tried for another child, but Danni assures us that there would be no danger if we wanted to try again.”

Hermione’s brow furrowed and her eyes dropped to her hands on the desk. “I suppose it does Mum. All my life I’ve had you and Dad to myself. I don’t know why, but the idea of sharing you bothers me a little.”

“We feel the same way about having to share you with Harry. And that’s on top of the fact that Dan and I both love that young man to pieces. I am not saying we’re trying for more children, but I do think you need to face that possibility, especially after this war is over,” Emma said quietly.

Hermione smiled weakly, then shook herself. “Right then, let’s start with the basic seven day contraceptive charm and work our way up to the six month charm.”





* * *



Haven School of Witchcraft and Wizardry…

Minerva McGonagall smiled as she took her seat. The last few weeks had been hard on everyone and her rough, stern demeanor had taken a beating, as she had to deal with children desperate for news about their families. She smiled more often now and was surprised to discover that sometimes a smile was even more encouraging to a student having a transfiguration problem than her usual stern frown.

Everywhere she looked she could see Harry and Hermione’s influence in the overall design of the school. There were no house tables and no head table in the Grand Hall. The dormitories were broken down by year, rather than house.

The library was huge! Even after all the books had been put away, there were dozens of empty shelves left over. Tall windows lined the library letting in plenty of sunlight and Hermione had introduced what she called a “study station”. Basically it was a desk surrounded on three sides by partitions where students could work peacefully without disturbing those next to them.

She had shown the representatives of the Irish Ministry Department of Education and Certification around the school three days ago and they were most impressed. The school was a mix of ultra modern and the medieval decor of Hogwarts. Minerva was very pleased when they issued all of her staff certificates based on their experience. The posts of Defense and Potions were still filled by substitute teachers, but the Ministry people said they would send her a list of candidates to look over.

The Grand Hall didn’t have a skylight charm like the Great Hall of Hogwarts, but the House elves had placed many of the portraits in the Hall and Professor Flitwick had charmed the large windows on one side of the hall to display scenes from around the world. Today the windows showed a moonlit beach. Instead of the larger house tables, they had filled the Hall with smaller tables, seating ten people per table. Every day the teachers would pick another table to sit at, this way the teachers could connect with their students better. It was one of the biggest changes and she heartily approved of it.

Minerva was about to start on her soup when she heard a cry come a nearby table.

“Parvati!”

Padma Patil clutched a letter in one hand and looked around frantically for her twin. Minerva spotted a green banded owl taking off from the table Padma had been sitting at. The green band signified that it was one of the Irish Ministry owls set aside to deliver inbound mail to Haven.

Filius Flitwick and Minerva converged on the upset Ravenclaw from two different directions.

“Please, Professor, we have to do something. They are still alive!” Padma said, weeping against the Headmistress.

She let go of the letter and it fluttered to the floor. Filius retrieved it just as Parvati run into the Grand Hall. She had sensed her twin’s confusion and fear and had come running.

Minerva looked at Filius, an eyebrow raised in question.

He scanned the letter, frowned, and then read it out loud.

My darling daughters,

It seems like it’s been forever since we heard of the fall of the school and the loss of everyone there. Your father, Tripuri and I have tried to be brave in the face of the news, but it hasn’t been easy. Now my time comes to an end and I will soon be with my little girls. I only wish I did not have to leave your father and sister behind.

I’ll be with you again soon, my darlings.

Mum

Parvati looked at Filius in horror and she unconsciously reached out for her sister. Minerva gripped both girls by the shoulder, forcing them to look at her.

“Girls, you must calm down. We will do everything we can to help. Now both of you follow me. Filius, you have the school until I return.”

Minerva took the letter from Filius before she exited the hall, setting a brisk pace. The Patil twins nearly had to run to keep up with her. Being much taller than the twins, Minerva’s pace kept them from talking to and worrying each other. She led them straight to the operations center, a building neither girl had visited before. Entering the building, she led them down a long stairway that ended in a corridor. Then she knocked at a door and waited before entering.

“Come!”

Miles Pickerton looked up and gave a pleased smile when he saw Minerva enter the room. His smile drooped a little when the two girls followed her, but his curiosity was immediately piqued. “Minerva?”

“Miles, I’d like to introduce to you Padma and Parvati Patil. They just received a letter from their parents,” said Minerva, handing Miles the letter.

“Ladies, meet Miles Pickerton. He’s the man who’s going to try to make things better for you both.”

He frowned as he read the letter. He then stepped out of the room for a moment. When he returned, he had several people with him. “Are we sure this letter is authentic?” he asked.

Padma nodded vigorously.

“That’s my dad’s handwriting,” offered Parvati.

Miles handed the letter over to one of the people he had brought into the room with him.

“Delivered by owl this morning?” asked the man. Miles nodded in agreement.

“The mother is obviously sick or injured. We’ll need a healer on the team,” said the man, and then handed the letter to the woman standing next to him.

The woman didn’t even glance at it. She did, however, cast a spell on it. “Brighton Beach,” she murmured. “I can’t narrow it down any further than that.”

“It’s a start,” said Miles. “Why don’t we send an extraction team to Brighton? From there, they can use an owl trace. The question is, do they portkey the targets directly back or not?”

“That’s up to the healer,” said the first man, shrugging.

Miles sat back for a moment before turning back to the Patil twins. The two girls had watched the conversation, hope clearly evident in their expressions. He smiled softly at them. “Ladies, I know you’re both worried and very scared. You’re going to have to be brave now. At dusk, we’ll send out an extraction team. If all goes well, a couple hours after that, you and your family will be laughing about this and planning a celebration. Now, if you’ll follow Minerva, she will take you back to the school. She’ll bring you back when your parents arrive. Given the content of the letter, they’ll probably portkey directly to the hospital,” he said, aiming the last comment specifically at Minerva, who nodded in understanding.





* * *



Padfoot Manor…

Harry got up from his chair and stretched. The Irish Minister and Amelia had left nearly two hours ago and he finally felt the pull of hunger. He was supposed to meet with Remus and Hermione after lunch. Too much sitting lately and bed rest, he thought to himself. Starting tomorrow I’ll begin swimming again.

He left his study and was heading to the dining room when he stopped in amazement. Standing on the landing of one of the lesser used stairways he looked out over the backyard of the Manor house and saw Dobby and house elves. Hundreds of house elves… clothed house elves!

Frowning, he shook his head and continued down the stairs.

Entering the dining room, he ignored the frown he got from Hermione, and the curious looks from the others, as he walked to the window and looked out at the strange group of elves.

“Remus,” he said intently, “I know we have count of the number of humans in Haven, but has anyone counted the non-humans?”

Remus looked at Harry standing by the window and shook his head. “I don’t think so. Why? Other than myself and some house elves, there can’t be that many of us.”

Harry shot him a murderous glance.

When Remus simply raised an eyebrow, he turned to look out the window again, but only briefly. “Stubborn old wolf,” he muttered, loud enough for the older man to hear. With his Lycanthropy, Remus considered himself a dark creature and non-human. They had argued about it numerous times.

Remus chuckled quietly and Harry conjured a small chair next to one of the dining room chairs, then he sat down and called Dobby.

A moment later Dobby appeared, facing Harry. He was wearing khaki short pants and a khaki shirt, just like the other elves on the lawn. He snapped off a salute, which Harry was forced to return.

Behind him, Dan and Emma snickered and even Hermione giggled.

“Dobby, I’d like to talk to you. Please sit down,” Harry said, motioning to the small chair he had conjured.

Dobby’s eyes grew wider, if such a thing was possible, and he slid into the chair Harry had indicated. “Is Dobby in trouble, Master Harry?” he asked in a small voice.

Harry smiled gently at the little elf. “No, Dobby. Even if you had done something wrong, friends forgive friends, they don’t punish them,” he replied. “I am curious about something though. Why are there several hundred elves out on my lawn dressed in uniform?”

Dobby’s ears drooped and he hunched down on his chair. “These be house elves with no homes, Master Harry. They be hearing from Hogwarts Elves and come here looking for work and families. They are too many for all the families in Haven. So we decide to bond to Haven, like the Hogwarts Elves bond to the school. They cooks and cleans and helps where they can.”

“That’s not that bad, Dobby. And I’m not angry with you. But tell me, how many elves are there?”

“One hundred score, Master Harry.”

Harry leaned back on his chair, shocked. “One hundred score? We have two thousand house elves?” he asked, addressing no one in particular.

He stood then and began to pace the room. Dobby watched from his chair, his huge eyes tracking Harry’s movements constantly.

“Two thousand elves,” Harry murmured. “Think about it, Remus! Even if we can only get a few to agree to help us, we could build a spy network that would be unparalleled.”

He spun to face Dobby then, his eyes blazing with energy. “Do you think you can convince some of your friends to help us by finding out what’s happening in Britain?”

Dobby nodded and leapt from his seat. “Dobby knows many elves who want to help go home, Master Harry. Shall I go ask them?”

Harry nodded and the little elf saluted him again. He glanced at Dan before returning the salute. When Dobby disappeared, he turned to the others, noting their shocked expressions. “Draco, I think,” he murmured.

Hermione shook her head. “Draco? For what? And did you just do what I think you did? Recruit house elves to spy for you?”

Harry sat in his chair and began putting food onto his plate. “Yes, I just recruited house elves to spy and I think Draco would be the perfect person to organize it.”

“But Harry, that’s dangerous!” she protested, ignoring the looks her parents were giving her.

Harry stood and scowled at her. “I know it’s dangerous, and I know it’s very likely that some of them may get hurt or killed doing this. But this is war, Hermione. I’ve sent dozens of people back into Britain every night to rescue people. Fred was injured on one of those trips. Seven others have also been injured. Sooner or later, someone will die.

“But, Harry…”

“What are you going to say when you discover I’ll be crossing the line as well? Mark my words, I may not be doing it tonight, or tomorrow, but as sure as the sun rises in the east, I’ll be crossing that line and doing my part in this fight,” he said angrily

“It’s not the same thing! They are elves, oppressed elves, and you want them to sacrifice themselves?” she asked heatedly.

“It’s war,” he snapped back. “I’ll use every method, person and tool at my disposal, including myself, to win. Do you think Voldemort is going to say, ‘Oh, don’t do that to the poor elves?’ Of course he isn’t. You need to grow up, Hermione! This isn’t another one of your idealistic crusades, like SPEW!”

She flinched, but he ignored the small movement and continued. “I’m making decisions and telling people what to do and I hate it! But everyone seems to expect it of me. Do you think I like doing it?”

Hermione reeled back as if he’d struck her.

Harry looked at her for a moment longer, then spun on his heel and left the room.

She moved to follow him, but her father gripped her by the arm and shook his head. “I’ll go,” he said simply.

Remus looked at her, his eyes boring into hers. “I’m surprised at you, Hermione. I thought you, of all people, knew what he was going through.” His tone left little doubt about his disappointment and his anger.

When she blanched, Emma laid a hand on her shoulder and shook her head at Remus.

He eyed Emma for a moment, then crossed his arms and looked away from both of them.

Emma looked at her daughter. “Have you told him how frightened you’ve been, Hermione?” she asked gently.

She looked down at the table, shaking her head mutely.

“How can you expect him to understand if you hide your fear from him, dear?”

“I want to, Mum, but he’s got so much to worry about,” she replied in a whisper.

Remus leaned across the table as realization of what had happened hit him. Hermione was reacting out of fear; fear for Harry, and for others.

“Hermione, Harry loves you. The only time I’ve seen a love as strong was watching James and Lily together. You know he’d do anything to help you. But Harry, for all his good qualities, can be quite dense sometimes. You can’t hint around with him. You know you have to come out and say what you’re feeling,” he offered.

She nodded and her expression grew pained as she considered what she had just done. “Do you think I should apologize to him?” she asked in a meek voice.

Remus shrugged. “If I know Harry, he’ll be happy to hold you in his arms and say nothing for hours on end.”

“I’ll talk to him after dinner tonight,” she offered with a weak smile.





* * *



Outside the Manor…

Dan caught up with Harry outside the manor house. He was furiously polishing his Firebolt, even though he hadn’t ridden the broom in months.

“She loves you, you know,” Dan said quietly.

Harry stopped polishing and looked across the field. “I know she does, but sometimes I think she doesn’t understand what I have to do,” he said with a heavy sigh.

“Oh, she understands, son. Believe me, she does. But she’s frightened. And because she’s frightened, she sometimes says things without thinking them through first. It’s a very human flaw, Harry.”

Dan moved to sit on a nearby bench. He leaned forward and looked at Harry closely. “I remember when Hermione was six, she developed an interest in meteorology. Within a week she had plowed through every weather book in the library, and then convinced us to buy a few for her. She could explain all the types of clouds, and tell when the weather was turning good or bad just by knowing the barometric pressure and if it was rising or falling. And yet, for all that knowledge, she would still run to our bed in the middle of the night when a thunderstorm passed by.

“She’s a very smart woman and she loves you deeply, but this war frightens her and Hermione has always had problems with fear,” he said, and then his expression grew thoughtful. “She’s brave with things like backing you up against Voldemort because that’s a life and death, here and now type of situation. But when you talk about things in the abstract, like using elves to spy, or going over to Britain yourself, it frightens her. Believe me when I say that she knows exactly how you feel when you have to send someone into harms way. She’s explained it often enough to us.”

Harry bowed his head. “I owe her an apology, don’t I?” he asked.

“No, not really. But you do owe her, and yourself, time to talk and several hours or even days of relaxation. You two have been at the heart of this war since the evacuation and you need some time for yourselves,” Dan offered.

Harry nodded gratefully at the older man. Their roles were confusing at times, but they were building a friendship anyway, despite that confusion.

“I’ll talk to her after dinner,” he offered with a weak smile.





* * *



Brighton Beach, England…

Newspapers fluttered up the street as the wind swept through the nearly empty town. There were few signs of the local townspeople who made their living on the tourist trade. The tourists wouldn’t be coming this year and no one knew if they’d ever come again. For most Britons, this had been a time of deep shock.

Most people were huddling in their homes, still hoping that a miracle would happen and they’d wake up to find that the army had put down the unrest, and that the morning post was being delivered, along with petrol and food to the local stores. Some tried living out of their own larders, but in such populated areas, people had adopted the habit of not storing large quantities of food. Why should they? The supermarket was only a short drive away.

For the people of Brighton, the reality of the situation came four days after the bomb. Someone had crashed a van through the front of Morrisons. The store had been closed since the power failed, two days after the bomb. The first group of people to showed up at the store had been small, perhaps ten people. An hour later, a hundred were swarming over the store, looting it for anything they could carry home and eat. On several occasions during that day, shots rang out and bodies were left bleeding in the aisles and in the parking lot. As evening fell, someone, perhaps upset over missing out on the free food, had set fire to the building.

The building had stopped smoking only days ago.

It was dark and deadly quiet when the five man extraction team apparated into the alley behind the former supermarket. The team leader moved to the entranceway of the alley and looked around carefully, while his second in command checked a high quality foe glass.

The team had been training and performing missions similar to this one since early April, when the government placed many of the Aurors and their families on the run. The team had five members, four fully trained ex-Ministry Aurors and a field healer, always called Doc.

The leader looked out across the broad boulevard. There was a glow on the horizon as a town up the coast burned. At his signal, another man readied the small owl they had brought with them.

With a flick of his wrist, the owl was sent aloft. The bird had a short message written by Padma for her mother. The owl circled for a moment, then took off in a south easterly direction. They waited until the owl was out of sight, then the team member lifted his wand and whispered, “Owl point me.”

The wand lifted from his hand and slowly moved to face the direction the owl had traveled in. Above the wand, small glowing numbers read two point five, then two point six. The leader nodded. Two point six kilometers and the owl was still going. Casting illusion charms on themselves, the team prepared to move out, following the owl. Hopefully they wouldn’t have to go too far.

In a closed T-Shirt business just over four kilometers away, a small non-descript owl flew in through a broken window and landed in front of Tripuri. Both she and her father recoiled in shock and fear at the sight of the owl, then Tripuri removed the message with a shaking hand.

Breaking the seal and unrolling the parchment she was relieved to see the lettering glow slightly, making it easy to read in the darkness. She read the letter once, then again, and hope bloomed where it had once withered and died. Fighting back tears, she read aloud to her father.

Stay where you are. Help is coming. Insist that the help that arrives gives you the proper password: “There is a Haven for all of us.” If all goes to plan, we will see you tonight. Love,

Padma and Parvati.

Gurprit listened to his daughter and nearly fell to his knees. “Alive?” he whispered. Then he looked over at the still form of his wife, who lay on the floor. Turning to Tripuri, he gripped her by both shoulders. “Watch the street, and don’t forget the password. I will talk to your mother.”

Tripuri nodded and moved cautiously to the front of the store, staying in the shadows as much as possible. Gurprit moved to sit next to his wife.

“Shaila… my little Shaila, you must open your eyes,” he crooned to her. Slowly the woman opened her eyes and smiled gently at her husband.

“Gurprit, I was having the most wonderful dream…” she whispered.

Gurprit took her hand. “I know, my love, but now you must be strong and fight for me. Help is coming! We’ve heard from Padma and Parvati. They are alive,” he whispered back. He turned her hand over and kissed her palm, trying hard but failing to prevent the tears from falling.

“Alive?” she asked in confusion.

“Yes, they are sending help. Tonight! You must hang on, my Shaila. For the girls. For me,” he said, pleading with her.

“But I’m so tired, my Gurie… can’t I just sleep for a while?”

An icy knot of fear filled Gurprit and he prayed that help would arrive soon. “No, love. You can sleep later tonight, after you’ve talked to Padma and Parvati.”

He could see her struggling to stay awake and made a quick decision. He began to sing softly to her. Her eyes came to rest on him. She always loved his voice. A small smile played about her lips and she watched as he sang. Gurprit knew he could hold her attention as long as he sang and he would sing all night if need be.





* * *



Padfoot Manor…

Harry was looking up at the night sky through the bedroom window when Hermione finally entered. The two had avoided each other during the day, but now they would have to confront each other and the gulf they had created.

She moved to stand next to him, but he surprised her by turning to her and pulling her into his embrace. They held each other for a long while, taking comfort from the presence of the other.

“I’m sorry, Hermione,” he whispered.

“No, I should be more understanding, Harry,” she replied quietly.

“I know you’re frightened. And I don’t know what I can do to ease that for you. Your father suggests that you and I get away for a day, or even for a few hours. I don’t know about you, but getting away, even if it’s just for few hours, sounds like a good idea,” he said, his voice hopeful.

She nodded against him, tightening her grip.

“Please understand, Hermione. We’re at war. There will be times when you and I will be in danger. I know you can handle that, you’re one of the bravest people I know. But like it or not, people are looking to me to lead our side. Even Amelia is asking my advice on things like the government in exile. And sometimes I’ll have to send people into danger and they might not come back. I don’t like it, I don’t want the job, but they all seem to think I’m in charge,” he said softly, then he led her over to two chairs and sat her down in one.

Hermione looked at him, her expression serious. “You are in charge, Harry. Everyone is here because of you and they look to you for guidance.”

His expression grew pained. “Then please understand that, though I don’t like it, sometimes it will be necessary for me to send people into danger. Like tonight, when we’re safe and comfortable.”

Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him. “What’s happening tonight?” she asked tensely.

“Miles told me about this earlier tonight. He normally stops by to tell me about the operations he’s running each night. Tonight, a team will be attempting to rescue the Patils,” he said grimly.

Hermione’s gaze sharpened. She was closer to Padma than to Parvati, despite rooming with Parvati for nearly six years. The Patil twins and Lavender had been clinging to each other for support since the bomb. Lavender’s family had died in the blast and the Patils had thought their family was gone as well.

“An owl arrived today with a message from their mother. In it, she implied that she was dying and that her oldest daughter and husband were nearby.”

“Poor Padma and Parvati,” breathed Hermione.

Harry nodded. “The extraction team couldn’t get a precise fix, so they had to apparate to the area and then use an owl trace. Miles came to me for approval to make the extraction.”

She inhaled sharply, hearing that. The use of the owl trace would be like lighting a beacon for Voldemort and his forces. The only hope was that his detection and capture squads would be busy elsewhere. She realized that Harry had deliberately approved a dangerous mission, putting the Patils and the extraction team in danger. He was clearly unhappy and uncomfortable with the decision. Her gaze softened as she realized that Harry would never be comfortable with sending someone into harms way. But he would do it anyway, because he must.

“Padma and Parvati must be going insane by now. Can we go to the receiving center? They should have friends nearby,” she asked softly.

“It might be a long wait, but I was going to suggest just that,” he replied with a small smile. Then the smile faded. “They won’t be coming to the receiving center. Considering the tone of the letter, it was decided they would go straight to the hospital.”

Moments later, Hermione was grabbing warm cloaks for the walk to the Hospital while Harry informed Dobby where they were going.





* * *



Riddle Manor, Little Hangleton…

Voldemort looked out over the ranks of assembled Death Eaters. They were just climbing to their feet, some of them weeping, most clutching at their arms. The mass marking of so many people was tiring and Voldemort slumped down on the chair Lucius had set up for him.

Another group of Death Eaters stepped up and began to pass out the robes and masks needed to complete their entry into his service. One by one, the newly marked Death Eaters were presented with a muggle, who they had to kill, although some were occasionally encouraged to rape the prettier ones first. Once done, the new recruits where brought before Voldemort, where they bowed down in respect and allegiance. Those few who refused to kill were immediately killed themselves.

After all, one did not refuse to serve the Dark Lord, not after being marked as his own.

As the induction ceremony wound down, Lucius stepped up next to Voldemort’s chair. He understood how tired his master was, so he ran the ceremony once the marking was complete.

Bowing before Voldemort, he turned to the crowd and cast the Sonorous spell on himself.

“I need the twenty recruits who have volunteered to return to Ireland up here now!” he barked, his voice rolling over the group and echoing against the hills.

Nineteen men slowly made their way up to the raised platform, their fear obvious. Lucius performed a quick head count. “Where’s the missing man?” he snarled.

“He’s dead. Didn’t pass the last test,” said one in thick Irish accent.

Lucius grunted in acknowledgement, then handed the men a long rope. “Take this, every man grab on. It’s a portkey that will take you to our Irish base. When you arrive, tell Antonin that he is to send twenty men back immediately.”

The group gathered around to take a grip on the length of rope. When everyone had a hold of it, Lucius tapped the rope and the group of nineteen men vanished from sight.

Lucius turned to see Voldemort nodding approvingly. In his mind, he turned to the next task he had to accomplish for his master this evening. He stepped up to the platform and was about to consult the list of cell leaders to assign the new Death Eaters to when a shout interrupted him.

Whirling around, he saw that the men he had just sent off by portkey had reappeared! The nineteen men looked shocked and surprised. Then all nineteen exploded in a soundless blast of blood, bone and flesh. Dozens of new Death Eaters ducked for cover, trying to avoid the gore raining down upon them.

Lucius paled and looked fearfully at Voldemort, whose finest robes were awash in blood and bits of brain.

Voldemort’s expression darkened and he stood, enraged. In the midst of the slowly thinning puddle where the Death Eaters stood, the air took on a shimmering quality as it began to lighten.

The shimmering started to move faster as it grew lighter and slowly a form coalesced in the center of the whirling vortex. Voldemort reeled back into his chair, shock, as he recognized the figure

“Potter!” he snarled.

The image of Harry Potter glanced around with a smirk. “Hey there! I do hope someone is here to pass the message along to the half blood bastard known as Voldemort. If not, he’ll find out sooner or later,” it said with a shrug. This was clearly a recorded message.

“Anyway, I expect right about now you’re probably knee deep in pureblood guts and other bloody bits. I hope you enjoyed the show.” Harry said conversationally, then he appeared to sit down. “Now comes the bad news, which I want to you pass to old snake face. Tell the scaly, lipless bastard that I’m revoking his passport. Yep, I’m locking you in, Tom Marvolo Riddle. The international Wizarding community has decided that you are far too ugly to be allowed to travel outside of Britain and Scotland, and so are your band of merry morons.

“Oh, and don’t get to comfortable, Tommy. As soon as I’m allowed, I’ll be coming for you,” said the image, then it faded from sight.

Lucius cringed and turned to look at Voldemort.

The evil wizard stood in a murderous rage. His eyes flamed balefully and, glancing at Lucius, his nostrils flared. “Continue with the service, Lucius. I will return home,” he said in a steely tone, then he apparated away with a crack that deafened everyone with fifty feet of the platform.

Lucius sighed in relief and tried to steady his shaking hands before he turned to continue the service as instructed.





* * *



Haven Hospital…

Harry and Hermione walked peacefully from the manor. It was a short walk to the hospital and now, thanks to the numerous house elves, the road between the town and the Manor house was clearly marked, even at night. Harry place an arm around Hermione’s waist and the two walked slowly up the road. He leaned on his staff a bit. It had been a long day and his leg was slowing him down some.

A few times along the way he’d stop to kiss her. The evening was cool and comfortable, and there was no need for conversation between them. Hermione could easily convince herself that they were off to a neighbor’s house for a spot of tea, rather than going to comfort friends who might be in for the worst night of their lives.

Halfway to the hospital Harry stumbled, then he whirled so he was facing east. He lifted his staff high above his head and Hermione staggered back from him as power rolling off him in waves. The crystal end cap of his staff burst into brilliant light, throwing back the night.

She watched as he stood immobile for about two minutes, then the light faded and he quickly brought his staff down and leaned against it. He was breathing heavily as if he had just finished a marathon.

“Harry?”

“Sorry,” he panted. “The line has finally been breeched. I had to send a message.”

She looked at him curiously, though he could clearly see the questions in her eyes.

“I told him that he’s been denied a passport and international travel rights due to his extreme ugliness. Old Tommy boy, having no sense of humor whatsoever, is currently having a temper tantrum over the issue. If we’re lucky, he’ll kill a few of his minions,” Harry replied.

She gasped, then giggled. “You didn’t! Did you?”

He nodded, and then turned back towards the road. “Come on, sweetheart, let’s get to the hospital.”

Hermione couldn’t help but notice how much Harry was leaning on his cane after his display of power. Fortunately for the two of them, the hospital was just a short walk up the road.

Harry led Hermione into the small emergency room waiting area, where they spotted Padma, Parvati and Lavender waiting together. Minerva and Professor Flitwick sat a few chairs away and looked to be marking homework.

Hermione made a beeline for the three girls, while Harry went to the nearest chair and sank down with a sigh of relief. He stretched out his leg and bent down to knead the knotted muscles. A healer stepped out of a backroom to see who had entered.

He came over to Harry. “Is there a problem with your leg?”

Harry looked up at the healer. “It will be all right. I’ve been over extending myself again,” he said with some degree of exasperation.

“Lord Potter?” gasped the healer.

Harry looked embarrassed. “Yes, but it’s just Harry, please.”

“Can I help you with that?” asked the healer, gesturing to his leg.

“Not really, no. As I said, it will be all right. I’m here waiting with my friends,” he replied, motioning to Hermione and the others.

“Ah, the extraction team. Very well, my Lord. If you need something, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

He nodded and the healer went back to a nursing station.

Harry levered himself to his feet and hobbled over to where Padma and Parvati sat. All four girls smiled up at him as he lowered himself into a chair.

“Harry,” began Parvati, “this past year at school… well, we… that is, I believed…”

Harry held up a hand to stop the Gryffindor. “Please don’t say it, Parvati. There was no way for you to really know what was going on, and there was no convincing way I could tell you the truth without revealing things I couldn’t reveal. Right now let’s concentrate on reuniting you with your family, alright?”

Parvati looked at Hermione for a moment, then she smiled impishly. “Hermione, forgive me this once.” Then Parvati leaned over to Harry and, before he could say or do a thing, she grabbed him and kissed him as hard as she could. When she leaned back in her seat, she looked at Hermione. “You’re one lucky witch,” she said with a sigh.

Hermione’s smile was all teeth and she resisted the temptation to scratch Parvati’s eyes out. Harry looked shocked. Minerva coughed from her seat and gave her Gryffindors a stern glance.

Harry hadn’t responded to Parvati’s kiss, of course. He shook his head slightly and smiled at Hermione, who then relaxed somewhat.

A small chime echoed through the room.

The healer at the nursing station looked up and several others entered from a back room. They went to stand just outside a roped off receiving area.





* * *



Brighton Beach, England…

Tripuri saw the group of shadows move closer. She had spotted them as they began to work their way up the street. She held her wand in one badly shaking hand. They moved from one covered position to another, which made Tripuri even more nervous. She was a healer, not a fighter! How do Padma and Parvati know these men, she wondered. She froze as one of them paused in front of the store and then knelt by the locked door.

The man fiddled with the door for a moment, then she squeaked and backed up slightly as the man pushed it open.

“W-W-What’s the password?” she said in a tremulous voice.

“There is a Haven for all of us,” hissed the man. “Now, put that wand away before you accidentally cast something!”

The man pushed the door open wider and motioned to the rest of the group. Three of them came in and took up positions near the front of the store, scanning the street. The man who had opened the door led another over to speak to Tripuri.

“Patil? Which one are you?”

“T-T-Tripuri,” she stammered.

The man nodded. “Yes, the healer. And your mother, she’s ill?”

“Yes! Yes! She has several bad spell wounds and I couldn’t heal her.”

The two men exchanged a glance, then one nodded to the other. The second man grabbed Tripuri gently by the arm. “Take me to her. I am a healer and I have potions with me.”

Tripuri nearly sobbed in relief as she pulled the healer into the back room.

The team leader watched them go for a moment, and then joined his second in command, crouching down and watching the street.

“We’ll be ready to move as soon as the Doc says we can, but I’ll try to move it along. Keep watch and holler if company comes to call.”

The man nodded and the team leader moved to the back of the building. Inside the small storeroom, he found an incongruous sight. The two healers hovering over a small, dark skinned woman with lightly graying hair. A small, dark skinned man was singing to her in a soft tone.

“Doc? Time?” he hissed.

The healer looked up at him. “I need to stabilize her. She’s very weak. Five minutes at least.”

The leader started to nod when he heard a low whistle. “I don’t think we have five minutes, Doc. Do what you can, but get them out of here soonest! We have company coming.”

Nodding the healer pulled a prepared syringe out of his bag and plunged it into Shaila’s thigh. “It’s an energy potion laced with dragon’s blood. It will give her energy, but we’ll have to watch her when she comes down from it,” he murmured to Tripuri. Then he pulled out a small rope and he passed the end to her.

“Portkey. Everyone take hold,”

From the front of the store came a shout, then the sound of multiple spells being cast, including several explosive hexes.

The healer saw that everyone had a hold of the rope. He grabbed Shaila’s hand and activated the portkey. There was a loud whistle to alert the rest of the team that he was leaving and then they were gone.

Out in the front room, bedlam ensued. Two capture squads had apparated onto the street. The flare of magic from Doc’s wand was sufficient to point out exactly where they were hiding. In moments, the two groups of Death Eaters fanned out and opened fire on the storefront.

The team leader was just coming from the storeroom when the front of the building exploded and his number three man went down hard. He dived over a counter and rolled until he was close enough to pull his man out of the line of fire. With that done, he joined in with his own people, firing back at the Death Eaters.

They say time dilates or compresses, depending on circumstance. For the men of the extraction team, time seemed to slow, becoming an unending battle of curse and counter curse. It seemed as if hours had passed before they heard the sharp whistle coming from the back room. In truth, it had been little more than sixty seconds.

The team leader wasted no time. He pulled a short silver whistle from under his shirt and gave three short blasts on it. Then he pulled his injured man close to him and watched as the rest of the team portkeyed away before activating his own.





* * *



Haven Hospital…

Harry watched with interest as the Patils arrived. He approached the roped off area and stood to one side, watching as a healer and two medi-witches moved Mrs. Patil to a floating stretcher, while another healer pumped her full of potions via syringe. The team medic dispassionately explained what she had done in field. It struck Harry as some sort of choreographed ballet as they smoothly moved the patient from the receiving area and out through the doors.

Gurprit and Tripuri moved to follow, but were intercepted by Padma and Parvati, both of whom were weeping with joy. The remaining healer motioned for the four of them to go to the seats where they could rest. He told them that he’d check them out and get them something to eat in a moment. Then another chime echoed through the room and the healer looked up in surprise and worry.

He moved over to stand near Harry. “Something must have happened to the extraction team,” he muttered.

Before Harry could reply, two men appeared in the area. One seemed fine, but the other was obviously suffering from curse damage as he leaned over to vomit. A second later two more men appeared, one holding the other.

The team leader struggled to lower his man gently to the floor.

“Oh, Merlin,” breathed the healer, and then he rushed forward to examine the man. “I need help here,” he yelled a moment later, hoping to attract some of his colleagues as he began pulling bandages and potions off a nearby cart.

“Tell me what to do,” urged Harry, dropping his staff to one side.

The healer glanced at him, then thrust a bandage into his hands. “Place this on that leg wound and press down as hard as you can. He’s got multiple major bleeders that we have to stop.”

Harry grabbed the bandage, placed it over the man’s leg and pushed down hard. The bandaged instantly turned red with blood. The healer worked frantically on his patient, stemming the flow of blood from a neck wound, then working on a chest wound. A moment later, two medi-witches burst through the doors from the back and came to his aid. One of them gently pushed Harry out of the way.

Another witch conjured a stretcher and they moved him into the back room. Harry stood, watching them move out of sight, and then he looked down to see his hands covered in blood. His pants were soaked through.

He looked bewildered and unsure, staring at his hands. Hermione had been concentrating on the Patils and hadn’t paid much attention to the second arrival until they were already moving back to the treatment rooms. She turned to see Harry staring at his blood covered hands and she gasped.

Minerva glanced up and frowned at Harry. She put aside her marking and joined him, casting cleansing charms on him as she approached. Seeing his pale complexion, she put one arm around him, led him to a chair and sat down beside him.

He kept glancing at the doors, then to his hands, as if he expected them to be covered in blood again.

“Harry,” she said gently, “are you alright?”

His brow furrowed in confusion and shook his head. “I’m not sure, Professor. I don’t know what I should be feeling right now.”

He looked up as the doors opened again and the leader of the extraction team walked out, his expression grim. His eyes flared in recognition as he saw Harry and he walked over join him and Minerva.

“I want to thank you, my lord. You tried to help Willie, but he was just too badly injured,” the man said quietly.

Harry jerked and his hands shook.

The man placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Willie knew the risks, sir. We all do. We take the risks because it’s the right thing to do. Look,” he said, pointing to the Patils. “It was the right thing to do and Willie would have wanted to go out doing the right thing.”

Harry understood. The man had died fighting for what he believed in. Fighting for the right to be free and to live the way he wanted. There could be no more noble a sacrifice. His loss was great, but his life and his death held a deep meaning for Harry.

“D-D-Did Willie have a family?”

“Aye, that he did. But don’t you worry about them. We take care of our own.”

“What is your name, sir?” asked Harry. The man exuded a confidence that he found appealing.

“Caleb Newman, sir.”

“Thank you, Caleb. Please let me know if Willie’s family needs anything… and I mean anything. You and your team did us proud tonight.”

Caleb stood a little taller and he nodded. Excusing himself, he joined his remaining teammates.

Harry smiled weakly at Minerva, then summoned his staff and limped over to Hermione.

She looked at him and chewed slightly at her lower lip. He shook his head to her unasked question. Her expression matched his own. They leaned against each other then, drawing comfort, one from the other. When he finally released her, he wore a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Giving her hand one last squeeze, he walked towards the Patil family.

Padma and Parvati were standing close to their father and their older sister. Lavender stood to one side, looking at them wistfully. He stepped up to the four, nodding to the twins. The man looked over at Harry curiously.

“Papa,” said Padma, “this is Harry Potter. He’s the one responsible for getting all of us out of Britain and bringing us back together.”

Gurprit looked surprised then he grinned broadly and grabbed Harry’s hand, shaking it. Harry nodded and smiled at the older man, but he couldn’t help but notice that Lavender was hovering along the edge of the group.

Everyone was babbling as questions were hurled back and forth. When Harry managed to catch Gurprit’s eye, he motioned him off to the side. He led the older man over to the nursing station. The healer took one look at the expression on Harry’s face and decided to find something else to do.

Harry motioned for the older man to sit, then smiled reassuringly at him. “Mr. Patil, first off, I don’t want to alarm you, as you and your family are more than welcome here in Haven, but I would like to talk to you about another situation. One that you might be able to help me with.”

“Oh?” asked Gurprit warily.

“Yes, sir. While you and your family were missing, your daughters, and their friend, Lavender Brown, relied on each other for comfort and support. Your daughters treated Lavender as if she was another sister, and she treated them the same. Unfortunately, Lavender’s family lived in Amesbury.”

Gurprit’s eyes widened in understanding. “I know Lavender, Mr. Potter. She’s a good girl…”

He stopped when a healer stepped into the room and looked expectantly at him. Harry smiled and motioned for him to go speak to the healer.

“Mr. Patil, your wife is resting comfortably and is out of danger. We will be keeping her here in the hospital for several more days. You and your family will be able to see her in a few minutes, but only for a short time,” said the healer with a broad smile.

Tripuri and the twins ran to their father, hugging him in relief. Gurprit looked at Harry for a moment, winked at him, and then turned to smile gently at Lavender.

“Lavender? Come, my daughter. We will go see Shaila together,” he said, holding out his hand.

Lavender looked dumbstruck. When Parvati embraced her, she broke down and wept on her shoulder. Another set of arms appeared as Gurprit embrace them both.

Harry watched the newly enlarged family for a moment. Then, for the first time since the rescue, his smile reached his eyes. He was turning to join Hermione when Lavender stopped him. She embraced him, kissed his cheek and whispered her gratitude before rushing back to her family.

When he faced Hermione, Minerva and Filius, they were all grinning at him. Hermione moved to his side and kissed his cheek.

“Well done, Harry,” exclaimed Filius. Minerva nodded approvingly.

“We’re apparating back to the Manor, Harry. I know how badly your leg’s hurting,” Hermione told him.

He didn’t argue. “Good night, Professors,” he said, and then vanished, taking Hermione with him.

Filius blinked and looked at Minerva. “I thought there were anti-apparation wards at the hospital?” he asked.

“There are, Filius, but he’s Harry,” she said, shrugging

“Oh. Well that explains it,” said the little professor with a chuckle.





* * *



Padfoot Manor…

Harry apparated them both to their bedroom and he went into the bathroom for hot soak. Hermione watched him with a worried expression. She fully expected him to be very upset once they got to home and were alone.

After his bath, he came out and borrowed her Book Bag of Requirement to find something to read. He then sat at the table they normally ate breakfast on, paging through the book.

“Harry?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you all right? You seem… different… after tonight,” she said hesitantly.

Harry closed the book and looked out the window and over the darkened lawn for a while without saying anything. She was about to stand up and go to him when he began to speak.

“All my life my hands have been bathed in someone else’s blood. All my life, Hermione. My Parents, Cedric, Sirius, Aurors and Order Members whose names I don’t even know. Tonight… tonight my hands were covered with the blood of that extraction team member, and you know what? I finally realized that I wasn’t the one bathing my hands in blood. No, it’s Voldemort. Oh, I played a role in what happened to Willie tonight and must be burdened with some of the guilt, but the bulk of it belongs to Voldemort.”

He stood then and walked to the window. Gazing out into the darkness, he shook his head. “No, most of this is Voldemort’s fault…and his Death Eaters.”

“What will you do?” she asked, fearful of his answer. She had expected tears, anger or rage, anything but this strange calm.

Harry turned to face her and she was struck by his appearance. This wasn’t Harry, a sixth year wizard and sometime Quidditch player. This was Harry, leader of Haven. He smiled gently at her.

“I’ll honor Willie and those like him. I’ll make sure that the sacrifice he made tonight wasn’t made in vain and that his family is cared for. And because of him, I’ll redouble my efforts to win. I owe it to him and all those like him.”

“How can you be so calm? A man practically died in your arms tonight.” Hermione asked.

“I’m calm because I’m blessed with a strong woman who gives me strength. To the outside world, I have to appear to be made of stone… firm and unyielding. You know differently. I don’t have to pretend to be something I’m not for you,” he replied softly.

Hermione walked up behind him and wrapped her arms around him. “I know you, Harry Potter. I may not know all about you, but I intend to learn. This much I do know, however. It’s time for you to stop being firm and unyielding.”

Harry’s tears had started as soon as she’d wrapped her arms around him. But even through his tears, he managed to smile at her comments. She knew him better than she thought.





* * *



Authors Notes:



How can we have notes when it's a new story?





Sunrise Over Britain

Chapter 2 - Orphans and a Hermione Moment


Standard Disclaimer:

“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 ‘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 ‘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 ‘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, ‘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 ‘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 ‘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 ‘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 ‘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~





Sunrise Over Britain

Chapter 3 - Weasleys Woes


Standard Disclaimer:

The curtain opened to reveal a empty stage with a white backdrop. From the left wing entered Hermione Granger, Harry Potter and Severus Snape. Snape was being forced, at wand point to the center of the stage.

Harry poked the Snape in the head with his wand.

“Say the words Snape,” Harry hissed angrily.

“Thats Professor Snape, Harry,” Hermione said seriously. Harry shot her a glare, then nodded reluctantly.

“Say the words, Professor Snape,” Harry said to appease his primary source of nookie in this story.

Severus Snape, Potions master, Spy and all around winner of Witch Weeklys Git of the Year for the past eight years running, grimaced.

“The people writing this story... ahem they think they are authors, but I know they are simple Rowling wannabes. Anyway the losers typing this stuff insist that I tell you they make no claim to any sort of ownership to Harry Potter or the characters created by JK Rowling. There, now I've said it. Can I go now?” asked Snape in a whiny voice.

“No. Kneel!” snarled Hermione.

Snape blinked in surprise and fell to his knees. From the right wing two people walked onto the stage and walked over to Harry, Hermione and Snape.

Harry and Hermione exchanged a startled glance and quickly covered their ears as Alanis Morrisette opened her mouth and roared. Snape's head exploded in a fountain of gore, blood and bone.

God giggled and started to skip around the stage while Metatron looked down at the mess that was his outfit.

“OH Really! Was that necessary? He whined to God.

Hermione snickered and waved her wand cleaning Metatron's clothing. He shot her a grateful look and followed God off the stage.

“Did you notice that metatron looked a lot like snape?” asked Bob.

“I'm not going to answer that question,” grumbled Alyx.



* * *



Sunrise over Britain

Chapter 3



* * *



Haven, Ireland (May 1st, mid morning)…

Melinda McKinny’s eyes popped open as the banging on the front door of the cottage finally penetrated. She glanced at the window and groaned. Morning had apparently arrived and she wasn’t well pleased by that fact. Her head felt as though it had been stuffed with cotton and her eyes felt as though someone had dumped a beach’s worth of sand in them.

Rolling out of bed, she grimaced when she realized she’d fallen asleep in her clothes. Not that she’d had much choice, she reminded herself. It wasn’t as if she’d packed for a holiday. Trying to tame her unruly hair, she shuffled towards the front door with the vague thought of searing the ears of whoever decided it was time for her to wake up.

Grasping the knob and jerking the door open, she opened her mouth to begin her rant, but paused. Before her stood a short, round woman who looked somewhat familiar. With a frown, she raised one questioning eyebrow and croaked, “Yes?”

“You’re awake! Poor dear, you really should get more rest,” the woman before her exclaimed, her eyes bright.

“Ahh, well…”

“I’m not sure if you remember me. You were rather dazed last night, but that doesn’t matter. Sleep will help clear the cobwebs. Now, my name is Olga Johansen…”

“You’re the woman who took in the children,” Melinda blurted as the memories from the night before snapped into focus.

Olga beamed. “Yes! Poor babies! But don’t you worry. They’re settling in nicely, they are. We were a little crowded last night, but we managed. And now that nice Mr. Lupin has had a house built for us all. Oh, such a beautiful house!”

“No, mama. Harry Potter had the house built,” a young woman Melinda hadn’t noticed before said.

Looking around Olga, Melinda spotted the girl…and her twin…standing a few feet behind their mother. Their arms were loaded with what looked to be clothing. And now that she was awake enough to notice such details, she realized that Mrs. Johansen’s arms were also full.

Seeing the direction of her gaze, Olga introduced her two daughters. “We know you didn’t have time to think about such things last night, but we’re here to help you get settled in. We’ve brought you some clothing I think may do for now, and some food. You need to eat, girl. Much to skinny,” Olga proclaimed, gently pushing her way into the cottage. “Helga, Inga, put those clothes in the bedroom for Mrs. McKinny to go through later. You dear,” she continued, turning to face Melinda with a smile, “can show me where to put the food and such. Oh, what a lovely cottage!”

As Mrs. Johansen continued to prattle on, Melinda shook her head, a bit dazed. She was dumbfounded by this woman’s generosity. And if she was also a little pushy, who was she to complain? Running a hand though her disheveled hair, she followed Olga into the kitchen. When she was pushed into a chair and told to rest, she didn’t resist.

“How are the children?” she asked, as the older woman paused to take a breath.

“Oh, such sweet babies! It will take some time, yes? The poor dears have had it rough, as have you, girl. But do not be worrying. Haven is a safe place, and the children are loved and cared for. Oh, Sven and I love children…”

Melinda could only shake her head as the woman continued to speak about the children and how happy she was to have them with her. With the food stuffs put away, Olga began pulling pots and pans out of another bag and putting them away. Once done, she began to fix breakfast, explaining that Melinda had missed the meal served at the community kitchen and what a shame that was, since she obviously need several good meals to fatten her up.

Melinda leaned back in her chair and did the only thing she could. She began to grin, then to chuckle.

Hearing the sound, Olga turned and beamed at her. “Ah, there it is! I knew laughter lurked in you somewhere, girl. No one so young can be that serious all the time. Oh, good! Helga, Inga, help me with the breakfast. Mrs. McKinny needs a good meal to start the day.”

“It’s Melinda, and I don’t know how to thank you, all of you.” Melinda smiled at the Johansen women and watched as all three flushed in pleasure.

“Then you must call me Olga. And there is no need for thanks. We are a community now. We take care of our own, yes? But tell me, if you are Mrs. McKinny, were is your Mr. McKinny?” Olga frowned when she saw the flash of pain in Melinda’s eyes. “Ah, I see. Inga, Helga? Go on home now and find out if Papa has started planting the land Mr. Potter has given him.”

“Yes, mama,” the twins replied.

Only after the front door had closed did Olga go to Melinda. Sitting beside the younger woman, she took her hands and gave them a gentle squeeze. “You are grieving for your husband, yes?”

When Melinda nodded jerkily, her eyes beginning to fill with tears, Olga own eyes blurred. “Oh, my girl,” she exclaimed softly, her heart aching for her loss. Gathering her close, she rocked Melinda slowly, letting her cry. “It is best to mourn those who have been taking from us. They deserve that much from us, and so much more. Poor dear.”

“I found him,” Melinda said, her voice muffled against Olga’s shoulder and her body shuddering at the memory. “He’d been out trying to find food and water for the children. The Death Eaters must have caught him. He was lying in a filthy ally, the food he’d managed to collect beside him. Oh, Gods! I had to bury my husband!” She tightened her grip around the older woman’s sturdy frame and let the anguish wash over her.

As the girl sobbed out her heartache, Olga could only imagine her grief and horror. Sven was by no means a perfect man, but he was a perfect husband, or near enough. She could not imagine life without him.

Many long minutes had passed before Melinda was able to pull herself together enough to release Olga and sit back. She smiled weakly when the older woman produced a handkerchief and gave it to her. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice gone hoarse.

“You needed this, yes? Denying our emotions only makes us feel worse. The horror of what you have gone through will be with you for a long time, my girl. But you need to speak of such things, share them with others. Many here have stories like yours and can help you, if you’ll let them. In time, you will come to celebrate his life, rather than mourn his death, yes? Life is like this. Your husband was a good and brave man. Keep his memory close to your heart, my dear, but never forget that you are still alive, as he would have wanted, and that you have much to offer those around you, hmm?” She patted Melinda’s hand and smiled.

“Now, a meal to fuel the body and mind! And some tea, yes?” Olga stood, brushed the hair back from Melinda’s face and kissed her forehead. “Life will get better, girl. Just give it a chance. Oh, do you like eggs? Scrambled eggs with toast will be filling…”

As Mrs. Johansen bustled back to the stove to begin the meal, Melinda took a deep breath and realized she felt a bit lighter. Perhaps Olga had the right of it. Speaking about Michael had helped.



* * *



Padfoot Manor, Lunchtime (May 1st)…

Harry looked at Remus, Tonks, Dan and Emma and smiled. He had sent Hermione on an errand earlier and expected her to be out of the Manor house for several hours.

“Dan, Emma…,” Harry began hesitantly. “I’d like to talk to you both about Hermione.”

Emma placed a restraining hand on Dan and studied Harry for a moment. “What would you like to talk about, dear?”

Harry looked down at the table for a moment. Why was this suddenly so damn hard to do?

“We… that is I…” Harry began, then he stopped and glared at Remus and Tonks, who were both chuckling at his discomfort.

He drew himself up to his full height and faced his girlfriend’s parents, ignoring the chuckling duo. “I love your daughter and I mean to ask her to marry me. I know we’re well past the age of a man asking for permission, but I would like your blessing and your help,” he said in a rush.

Dan looked at Harry, a bit disappointed. Then, reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a ten pound note and handed it to Emma, who accepted it smugly.

“Harry dear, I don’t understand why you need our help. It’s up to you to ask Hermione. I dare say my husband and I approve whole heartedly, but it’s still your job to ask her,” Emma said with a smile.

“Oh, I know, Mrs. Granger,” Harry replied, suddenly very nervous again. “My problem isn’t with asking her, it’s with picking out the ring. You see, I had hoped my parent’s rings might have been put in my vault, so I asked the Goblins to remove all possible wedding and engagement rings from the vaults, check them for curses and send them to me.”

Harry held up a hefty little bag. “This contains nearly fifty engagement rings, some of which look to be hundreds of years old…maybe older. Unfortunately, my parents rings weren’t included.”

“No, they wouldn’t be. James and Lils were buried with their rings, Harry. I’m sorry. No one thought that someday you might want them,” Remus offered softly.

“It’s alright, Remus. I wanted to have the option open to me, and having their rings would have been a nice keepsake, but they should have kept them. It’s fitting,” he said softly.

With a mental shake, Harry opened the draw string and up ended the bag of rings onto the table. Then he looked at Emma. “What I need is help figuring out which one I should offer her. Or which ones would she like to choose from. Should I offer her one, or give her a choice?”

Dan’s eyes widened as he looked over the pile of rings. Some contained modest stones in classical settings, others were monstrous, garish settings with stones as big as ice cubes.

Dan and Remus were in favor of Harry picking one ring and offering it to Hermione. Harry was undecided about the issue, but thought a choice was important, and both Tonks and Emma agreed with him. Between them, Harry winnowed the choice of rings down to the ten rings Emma said she liked. She and Tonks then conferred for a bit longer before agreeing on the selection. Harry nodded in relief, then placed the ten rings into a special bag. The others he gave to Dobby, who would see they got returned to his vault in Gringotts.

He placed the rings in his pocket for later and stood to leave when a thought occurred to him. “Remus, when this mess is over and we can go home, I want you to show me where my parents are buried. I think it’s well past the time when I should be allowed to meet them.”

“I’m sorry, Harry. I should have taken you last summer,” Remus replied.

Harry smiled at him. “No, it’s alright Remus. We had a lot to worry about and my parents would have understood. Besides, I like to think they’re watching you and Tonks both. Happy and pleased… Sirius too.” He then slipped quietly from the room.

Remus blinked in surprise and Tonks started to sniffle. Even Emma looked misty eyed.





* * *



Haven School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Library…

Hermione looked up at what she was quickly coming to consider her library. The architects had done a wonderful job in making it. It was warm and inviting while still maintaining an air as a place of learning and reading.

She was looking up Dementors and their history. Harry was right about one thing. Something wasn’t quite right about Dementors. They just appeared on the scene some two thousand or more years ago. There was no record of them prior to that.

Flipping open a book, she began taking notes. The first reference to Dementors came from an account written by Tacitus, the Roman historian who witnessed the uprising of Britain’s first female hero, Boudicca, in sixty A.D..

...Meanwhile, without any evident cause, the statue of Victory at Camulodunum fell prostrate and turned its back to the enemy, as though it fled before them. Women excited to frenzy prophesied impending destruction; ravings in a strange tongue, it was said, were heard in their Senate-house; their theatre resounded with wailings, and in the estuary of the Tamesa had been seen the appearance of an overthrown town; even the ocean had worn the aspect of blood, and, when the tide ebbed, there had been left the likenesses of human forms, marvels interpreted by the Britons, as hopeful, by the veterans, as alarming. But as Suetonius was far away, they implored aid from the procurator, Catus Decianus. All he did was to send two hundred men, and no more, without regular arms, and there was in the place but a small military force. Trusting to the protection of the temple, hindered too by secret accomplices in the revolt, who embarrassed their plans, they had constructed neither fosse nor rampart; nor had they removed their old men and women, leaving their youth alone to face the foe. Surprised, as it were, in the midst of peace, they were surrounded by an immense host of the barbarians. All else was plundered or fired in the onslaught; the temple where the soldiers had assembled, was stormed after a two days' siege. During the siege, Boudicca did curse those within calling down the wrath of her pagan gods. The victorious enemy met Petilius Cerialis, commander of the ninth legion, as he was coming to the rescue, routed his troops, and destroyed all his infantry by means of a strange cloaked pestilence that brought men low in their prime. Cerialis escaped with some cavalry…

Hermione paused and looked up from her notes, her expression thoughtful. Boudicca was an Iceni queen and Druid priestess. That meant, if Hermione had done her research properly, that she was a witch of considerable power. Her daughters had been raped and she had been scourged by the Romans, despite being allied to them and, as a result, had raised an army in rebellion against Rome. If Boudicca had cursed the Romans defending the town, then it was possible that she had somehow created the dementors, using magic known to the druids of the time.

The Patronus charm came hundreds of years later after, the Wizarding world learned enough about the dementors. Druid magic was lost not long after Boudicca’s rebellion was put down, as Christianity followed on the heels of the Roman invasion.

Hermione turned back to her notes and reached for another book from the pile she had built around herself.





* * *



International Apparation Point, Calais, France…

Charlie appeared in the small building used by the French Ministry of Magic as an apparation control point for international travel. Wizards entering or leaving the country were required by law to stop and check with customs before continuing on with their journey.

Charlie reached for his British passport and handed them to the clerk.

“Bon jour,” said the bored clerk flipping through the passport.

“Hello”

The clerk looked up at Charlie. “Destination?” he asked sharply in response to Charlie’s accent.

Charlie sighed. “I’m not sure. I have family still in England, but most are in Ireland.”

“Monsieur, if you go on to England, you may not be allowed to leave again. We have reports of Wizards and Witches being sent to camps. We cannot be held responsible for you if you run into trouble, nor will anyone come to your assistance.”

Charlie nodded, then looked shocked as the clerk pulled him aside.

“Monsieur, if you must do this, then do not use magic. We know the Dark Lord’s men are tracking people who use their magic. Avoid popular spots like Hogsmeade, Diagon Alley and the key apparation points. If you find your family, take them and get out right away.”

The man then pressed a small key into his hand. “This is an emergency portkey back to the apparation point here in Calais. I have to tell you that no one that we’ve given these to has managed to use it as yet. I, myself, have seen twenty Briton’s looking for family and none have returned once they left this place.”

Charlie accepted the key gratefully. “I have to try, they are my family.”

“Yes, I understand, my friend. All I can tell you is to be careful. It is not safe,” replied the clerk.

Something about the man’s attitude made Charlie uneasy. He could have apparated directly to the Burrow, but opted for a two hop jump instead. Normally, in better times, it would have been a two hop jump anyway, first to Dover and the international customs point there, then to the Burrow. Charlie decided to make a detour. He would go to Hythe first, then on to the Burrow. He had once dated a muggle girl who lived in Hythe, so apparating there would not cause a problem.

He took his passport back from the clerk and shouldered his rucksack again. With a nod to the clerk, Charlie vanished with a loud pop.





* * *



Haven Operations Center, Planning Office…

Miles looked up and smiled as Caleb entered the office, followed a moment later by Draco and Tobby.

“Gentlemen!” Miles said, waving them to seats. Tobby looked at Miles in surprise when he spotted a chair tailored to his size.

Miles waved a slip of parchment in front of the three of them. “First off, Kudos to both the human and elf teams last night for making the mission a success. Both Harry and Amelia are very pleased with the results and ask that you thank your teammates accordingly.”

He stood then and faced them. “However, one success doesn’t mean we know what we’re doing. Starting tomorrow, I want to see the extraction teams and the elf teams begin practicing in joint exercises. I want the two groups to work flawlessly together!”

Miles placed both hands on his desk and leaned across it, grinning. “We got very lucky last night, very lucky indeed, and pulled off a miracle. Personally, I like it when our bosses think we can perform miracles, but we all know that only comes from training and more training. Am I clear about this?”

Caleb, Draco and Tobby nodded. Caleb was used to Miles’ gruff manner and he had nothing against training. Draco and Tobby, on the other hand, were entirely different issues.

“Black!” barked Miles.

“Sir?” squeaked Draco, who had been visualizing a wonderful fantasy that involved Harry and a red hot poker for getting him into this mess.

“In the mornings you will work with me to train your Elves. You’ll work alongside them. In the afternoons, you’ll attend classes here at the center in intelligence methods and operation planning.

“Let me make myself clear, gentlemen. In a few weeks time I expect our forces will increase as the other Magical Governments start sending their troops to help us. Amelia is already working out those details with the other governments. When they arrive, I want us to shine. Is that understood?”

Caleb, Draco and Tobby nodded once more.

Miles sat down again and leaned back in his chair. He had patted them on the back, then told them they would have to work harder. They were up to the challenge. He was sure of it.

“Excellent. Now let’s start by critiquing last night’s mission. Caleb? Why don’t you go first?”

Caleb leaned forward. “Well, we need more passive equipment. Things that perform magical functions, but won’t trigger the detectors. The kids were hiding out in a church and, because we couldn’t see inside, I opened the door and nearly got my head blown off by Mrs. McKinny’s wand. If we had something that showed where the people were in the building, it would have saved us the problem.”

Miles nodded and took notes. Going over the missions like this often led to discovering the need for new equipment. He looked up from his notes to see that Draco was also taking notes as Caleb spoke. Miles nodded approvingly.





* * *



The Town of Hythe…

Charlie appeared in a secluded area of a park. Most of the town was hidden from view and he didn’t waste any time. He reached into his pocket and threw the key the clerk had given him to the ground.

He watched the small key lying in the dirt and listened anxiously for the sound of apparating Wizards. Something about the key and the clerk who’d given it to him struck him oddly. He wasn’t sure what it was, only that it was wrong. He stepped a few feet away from the key and took up position behind a tree.

He tensed and crouched with his wand out when the key made a buzzing sound for a moment and then vanished, leaving only it’s imprint in the dirt. He relaxed slowly as he realized the key must have been a time delayed portkey, perhaps with a stunning spell thrown into the mix. He seriously doubted that it would have returned him to France.

Stepping out from behind the tree, he visualized a spot in Ottery St. Catchpole. Given the conditions he was seeing, even from here, apparating directly home seemed like a bad idea.

He vanished with a small pop.





* * *



Haven, Ireland…

Buckling her sandals, Melinda stood and ran her hands over the soft sun dress she’d chosen from the clothing the Johansen’s had brought her. It fit well, though the sandals were a bit large. She glanced in the small mirror next to the dresser in her bedroom, shrugged at her reflection and figured the clothing would do. Then she grinned, raised her arms and twirled around. It felt glorious to finally be clean!

Her talk with Olga, a good meal and a long, hot shower had done wonders for her mood. As did the knowledge that the children were safe, well cared for and loved.

When the knock came at the door of the cottage, a small frown played over her face. She wasn’t expecting anyone. Then again, she hadn’t been expecting Olga and her daughters either, and that had worked out well.

Leaving the bedroom and moving through the small living room, she once again reached for the knob and opened the door. Her brows rose in surprise at the sight before her.

Arthur Weasley smiled down at her and shifted the bags he held in his arms. “Good afternoon, Mrs. McKinny.”

“It’s Melinda,” she replied absently, unsure why a Ministry employee was standing on her doorstep. “Can I help you, Mr. Weasley?”

“Right, Melinda. I’ll remember. I’m Arthur,” he said, smiling.

“Arthur,” she repeated, smiling back. When he continued to stare at her, saying nothing, she fidgeted. “Is there something I can do for you, Arthur?”

He jerked once and flushed. “Oh, right. Yes. Umm, I’ve brought you some clothing. And food. Yes, mustn’t forget that. The cottage was furnished, but with all that happened last night, we’d forgotten that you’d need clothing and such,” he rambled.

“That’s very kind of you, sir,” she began.

“Arthur.”

“That’s very kind of you, Arthur, but Mrs. Johansen has already brought me those things.” When his shoulders drooped, she rushed on. “Thank you for thinking of me. And I’m sure everything will come in handy. Many of the clothes Olga brought don’t fit, you see.” Realizing she was beginning to babble, she closed her mouth and took a step back. “Would you like to come in?”

“Come in? Oh, no, that wouldn’t be proper, would it?” he asked, he facing flushing once more.

“Proper?” she asked blankly.

“Yes. After all, you’re a woman living alone and…well…” He shrugged, trailing off.

“Right,” she said, frowning. “Well, I’m sure you’re busy and I don’t want to hold you up any longer.” She broke off as peels of laughter rang out from down the street.

Turning, she smiled, seeing two sets of twins, one blond, and the other red haired, walking down the street towards them. The red heads, both boys, were conjuring bubbles and filling them with butterflies, while the blonds, the Johansen twins, laughed in delight.

Arthur’s eyes widened at the sight of his children’s approach. He shifted nervously, hitched the bags up once more and nearly bowled her over as he entered the cottage. “Tea would be lovely,” he blurted.

She stumbled back and nearly laughed when he dropped his bags and tried to steady her. “Tea?” she asked, a bit breathless by the change in his demeanor.

“Yes, thank you,” he said, holding her arm in one hand and closing the door quickly with the other.

“All right, tea it is.” She stood, waiting for him to release her arm.

Arthur smiled at her and waited. When she didn’t move, he grew concerned. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” she told him.

“Do you not want tea?” he asked.

“Tea would be lovely.”

“Yes, it would.” He waited, growing puzzled when she didn’t move. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Perfectly. I’m simply waiting for you to release me,” she told him, trying not to grin.

“Oh! Right. Sorry about that.” He jerked his hand away from her so fast he nearly stumbled backwards.

She couldn’t help it. She laughed. When he blushed furiously, she laughed harder. “I’m sorry, Arthur. I meant to put you at ease and here I am laughing. Forgive me. Let me put the tea on and we can talk.”

“Talk, yes. Good.” He raked a hand through his thinning hair and sighed heavily. Why was this so hard?

“Relax. I don’t bite,” she told him, walking towards the kitchen.

Bite? He never thought she would. Not really. Though now that she mentioned it, the thought of her biting him sent his mind spinning. Stop it, he ordered himself as he picked up the bags he’d dropped and followed her into the kitchen. You’re not a teenager anymore. Stop acting like one!

Half an hour later, seated at the kitchen table sipping tea, Arthur was winding up his explanation about Haven and how it had come to be. “You and the children will be safe here, Melinda. The Johansen’s will take good care of them and, if you’re willing, perhaps we could find something for you to do.”

“I was going to ask you about that. I’m a fully trained Healer, but I volunteered at the orphanage, as we lived next door. I worked for a small company that supplied potions and ingredients to apothecary shops.”

“Then you can brew potions?” he asked.

“Yes. I gained my Healing mastery in Spain, and potions was a required subject.”

“I see. Well, the hospital will be lucky to have you! They’re short on brewers, you see.” He cocked his head then, gazing at her for a moment. “Melinda, I don’t mean to pry but…” He paused, unsure how to ask his next question.

“No, please. What is it?”

“You said ‘we lived next door’. Do you mean you and your husband?”

“Yes. Michael and I were renting the house next to the orphanage.”

“As I said, I don’t mean to pry, but Mr. Pickerton will need to know. Should we be looking for your husband?”

“No,” she told him, closing her eyes briefly. “He was killed. A few days before Auror Newman and his team found the children and me.”

“I see. I’m sorry, Melinda. I didn’t mean to cause you pain,” he said softly, his voice full of regret…and understanding.

“It’s alright. I spoke to Olga about it this morning and it seemed to help. He’s gone, and I need to learn to accept it.”

“Accept? Yes, I suppose so. But it doesn’t mean we forget.”

She looked at him then. Really looked. His eyes were darkened by sorrow and… was that grief? “You’ve lost someone as well.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes. My son… my wife… it’s complicated,” he murmured, looking through her and thinking of Ron and Molly. He’d divorced her, disowned his son. He closed his eyes, feeling guilt wash over him. Perhaps if he’d only tried harder… His eyes flickered open, surprised when she touched his hand gently.

“I’m sorry,” she told him.

“We all have wounds, Melinda. No one escaped unscathed.”

As silence descended on the cottage, each was lost to the past. The spell was broken only when the sound of laughing children poured in through the open kitchen window.

Arthur stood abruptly and smiled. “Well, you should be set now. I’ll speak with the healers today. You should be hearing from them soon.”

“Thank you,” she said, standing and walking with him to the door. “For everything, I mean.”

“You’re welcome. If you need anything, come to the Manor and ask. Remus Lupin should be able to help you. Or you can call on me.”

“I will. Good day, Arthur.”

He opened the door and glanced out quickly, looking for his sons. When he didn’t see them, he stepped out. Turning a bit, he smiled back at her, said a hasty farewell and walked quickly down the street, intent on returning to Padfoot.

Melinda watched him for a moment, shook her head at his sudden odd behavior and shrugged. Closing the door, she leaned against it and sighed. Odd man, she thought. Attractive, in a rumpled sort of way, means well, but odd.





* * *



Dover, International Arrival Point…

Four Death Eaters stood facing the arrival point, wands held ready when the small chime sounded.

“Another incoming arrival,” chuckled one to the general amusement of the others.

There was a popping sound and a tall dark haired man appeared.

“Stupefy !” shouted three Death Eaters, hitting the man before he had time to react.

The man went down hard and the fourth Death Eater searched him, relieving him of his wand and other valuables.

“Check his name to see if he’s on the list of recruits being sent. Barcelona was supposed to be sending us ten men today.”

When a second pinging sound was heard, three of the men pivoted to cover a roped off area.

“Incoming present from Claude,” chuckled one.

“Busy day today. The boss likes that.” offered another.

They all blinked as a key appeared in the center of the roped off area. The Death Eater standing in the doorway frowned and walked over to it. He stooped down and picked it up, examining it carefully.

“It’s one of Claude’s portkeys alright. Alert the capture squads. We have a runner, from the look of it. He must of apparated nearby and then discarded the key. If he had arrived inland, he would have triggered the stunner.”

“Do we have a signature off the key?” asked another.

“No, it wasn’t in the runner’s possession long enough for it to register.”

“What about Claude? Has he been burned?”

“I don’t think so. No, this runner is on our side of the water now. The capture squads will find him. They always go for their wands. When they do, we find them,” said the leader.

“Hey! I heard one of them complaining last night about the detectors acting up.”

“Enough of that,” barked the leader. “Let’s process this guy and get him up to camp one.”





* * *



Padfoot Manor…

Harry, Remus and Hermione sat in the main library waiting for their friends to file in.

It had been an irritating day for Harry. He had spent most of it trying to figure out how to broach the subject of the Brotherhood with everyone and had yet to come up with any good ideas.

He looked up from the book he was nervously flipping through as people began to file into the library and take seats. Along with the Outcasts, Hermione’s parents and Remus and Tonks, he had also invited Arthur, Minerva and Narcissa as advisers.

Harry stood and waited for the idle chatter to simmer down before he spoke. “I want to thank everyone for coming tonight. What I am about to say involves the following people: Hermione, Draco, Luna, Neville, Ginny, Susan, Terry and myself. It also concerns Remus, Tonks, Dan and Emma. The rest of you are here tonight because we value your advice and hope you’ll be able to help us make an important decision.”

He glanced from face to face as the seriousness of his tone was absorbed by those in the room.

“Back at the beginning of the school year, the sorting hat issued a prophecy that included a reference to a Brotherhood. Since that initial prophecy, there has been a second prophecy, given by Hermione, which also referenced a Brotherhood.

“When we first heard the sorting hat’s song, we asked Remus to begin research on the only Brotherhood we knew anything about, the Brotherhood of Druidic Knights. Remus, with help from Hermione, Tonks and even Luna, has been rather successful in discovering information about what they were all about. I will turn this over to Remus so he can explain some of what he’s discovered.”

As Harry sat down next to Hermione, Remus stood to face everyone and smiled nervously. “It’s ironic that what started out as little more than a joke, a ruse to confuse the Order of the Phoenix, turned out to be something far more significant.

“The true age of the Brotherhood of the Druidic Knights is not fully known. Druids were not normally known for keeping records, but we have fragments of records which suggest the Brotherhood existed as early as one thousand B.C.. What we do know is they were a group of individuals dedicated to the preservation of the peace and to upholding what they saw as the law. They were firm believers in a ‘live and let live’ creed. They were also brutally efficient at putting down others who tried to impose their will on society.

“The Brotherhood finally died out just over fifteen hundred years ago, nearly five hundred years before the four founders laid the first stone of Hogwarts. We’ve managed to obtain the journal of the last surviving member of the Brotherhood. In it he reveals some interesting facts.

“The Brotherhood is led by the Maglios. This person is selected either by the existing Maglios or by their guiding spirit. In the past there were periods when the Brotherhood died out because it wasn’t needed. They took such periods into account by imbuing the knowledge and lore of their group into a guiding spirit. The spirit would lie dormant until such time as it was awakened by a group of worthy supplicants.

“The guiding spirit would then instruct the supplicants in the magics of the Brotherhood, which were, by all accounts, formidable. The journal we have in our possession explains the process of awakening the guardian and details some of the many benefits gifted to those deemed worthy. What the journal doesn’t detail is what happens to those it feels are unworthy…”

Remus sat on that final note and looked at Harry.

Harry stood with a chuckle. “The look that Remus just sent me says I get to give you all the bad news,” he told them as his smile became a grimace.

“There are two pieces of bad news. The first is, as Remus mentioned, a test of some kind, which everyone will have to undergo. We do not know what happens to those who do not pass the test. The second piece of bad news is perhaps more disturbing. This is an ancient rite. As such, it must be conducted under a unique set of circumstances and we do not think we can safely alter the rite in any way. In the case of this particular rite, it’s performed outside, in a sacred druid location, and is performed without the benefit of clothing. In other words, if we do this, we’ll have to be naked.”

He stood, waiting for reactions as the news settled in. Some were as he thought. Tonks began to chuckle. Dan and Emma merely looked intrigued. Hermione was stoic, convinced she could handle it without any problems. Harry hoped that was true, and hoped she could help him because he wasn’t sure he could handle it well. Minerva, Arthur and Narcissa looked shocked, while Ginny looked as if she’d just been challenged and was willing to accept it. Susan and Terry glanced at each other and blushed. Luna, as Harry expected, didn’t react at all. Surprisingly however, neither did Draco.

“I want to add something here,” Hermione said from her seat. “Harry has had me researching dementors again. I did so during our third year, but this time Harry gave me an idea and a unique angle to look at it from. I’m not positive, but it’s quite possible that dementors were created during the siege of Colchester by Queen Boudicca. She was not only queen of the Iceni tribe, but also a druid priestess. If bringing back the brotherhood allows us to study the magic that created the dementors, then perhaps we will find a way of hurting them, maybe even killing them.”

Minerva frowned. “Naked,” she said tightly.

Harry nodded unhappily. “I don’t like it anymore than you do, Professor, but this is a chance I don’t think we can afford to overlook. If we could avoid that part of it, I’d be the first one in line to do so.”

Most of the Outcasts shared a knowing look. They had seen some of Harry’s scars during the swimming sessions and therapy for his leg back at Hogwarts and understood his reluctance.

Ginny broke the silence next. “I never thought that anyone else would see me like this, but let’s be honest here. This isn’t a romantic situation. It’s more like going to one of those muggle beaches where everyone’s naked.”

“Look,” Dan said, butting in. “I don’t have a problem with getting naked in front of others as I’ve been to some of the beaches Ginny spoke of. But I’m not clear what this is going to do. Is this rite going to awaken a guardian to assist us, or is this going to resurrect an Order that has been dead for over fifteen hundred years?”

Harry, Hermione and Remus exchanged glances. Then, with a shrug, Remus spoke.

“To be honest, Dan, we’re not entirely sure. The journal talks about awakening the Guardian spirit and the rebirth of the Brotherhood. Cathal, the author, wrote about this part on his death bed so he didn’t have time to go into a lot of detail.”

“The fact is, either could be the case, Dan. We won’t know for certain until we try the ritual. We’ve found out where the ritual has to be held and we have permission from the Irish Ministry. They have even gone so far as offering to provide security during the rite. The question we need to answer is, do the benefits outweigh the risk and embarrassment of being naked? We have until the tenth of May to decide. That’s the first night we can perform the ritual. If we’re going to do this, we should all be in agreement by the sixth at the latest so the Irish have time to prepare.” Harry said quietly.

“I can’t say I like the idea of my students being naked in public, but I also remember a time when rites were routinely performed in that way,” offered McGonagall. “The advantages of learning a forgotten and powerful form of magic are alluring. You twelve would be capable of doing things no one else would be able to do until you start to share the information.”

“Why us, Harry? I mean Dan and I. We don’t know a lot of magic and are the least trained of those you’ve included. I appreciate what you’re offering, but I don’t understand why you want to include us,” Emma asked pointedly, while Dan nodded vigorously.

Harry looked at the two and grinned. “That’s exactly why I included you. We’d all be learning something new, so this would put you at the same level as everyone else. Besides, you two spent your entire childhoods and most of your adult lives as muggles. This gives you a perspective on the subject that most of us just don’t have.

“But Harry, you also have that perspective. You weren’t raised as a wizard,” Dan offered quietly.

Harry recoiled at Dan’s comment and his eyes flashed angrily for a moment. He stood, ignoring the worried looks aimed at him and walked to a nearby window.

“My perspective on muggles is… tainted,” he said in a quiet voice as he gazed out through the glass. “How I was raised has made it impossible for me to be very objective. If it weren’t for people like yourself, Dan, and Emma and most especially Hermione, I’d probably agree with Voldemort. But you’ve shown me that not all muggles are like Vernon and Petunia…”

Hermione looked at him carefully, wanting nothing more than to wrap her arms around him and offer comfort. But she knew this was something he had to face, needed to face; something he had to come to grips with.

Harry took a few calming breaths then turned to face the shocked group. “I am not Voldemort,” he said softly. “Yes, we have similar backgrounds, but I am not him, nor do I want to be him. I have friends, muggle and magical, and I know, in general at least, that everyone is worth saving. I can’t help it if sometimes I wonder if I’m right or not.”

“No Harry, you’re not Voldemort,” Luna said, agreeing with him. He winced inwardly as he felt the full brunt of her emotions bore down on him and he raised his occlumency shields to maximum. “You’re not Voldemort because you care too much. He doesn’t care at all. You may not believe in yourself, but the rest of us believe in you. If you, Hermione and Remus think this ritual is important enough to try, then let’s do it.”

Harry nodded gratefully and moved to lean over the back of Hermione’s chair. He looked at the others questioningly.

One by one they met his gaze and nodded in agreement. All knew that in the coming days they would harbor doubts and have to come to terms with their agreement. But it helped that they were all family. They would support each other.

Hermione knew his admission had cost him dearly. Her hands fisted in her lap and she pictured herself hexing the Dursley’s over and over, until the sky fell and the stars burned out.





* * *



Ottery St. Catchpole…

Charlie peered around the edge of a dumpster. He had been lucky in that he had arrived unnoticed and had hidden himself as quickly as he could behind the grocers in Ottery St. Catchpole.

The town looked to be untouched by the troubles, as people could be seen walking about the streets occasionally. And while they were the first people he’d seen since entering the country, their behavior bothered him.

No one looked around. They didn’t even look at each other. During the two hours he’d spent in his hiding spot, he’d seen several military convoys rumble through town. Each time the sound of trucks approaching had been heard, the people scattered, emptying the streets.

He sat with his back to the dumpster, watching carefully and making plans. The Burrow had been warded, which was why he’d to apparate to the town. Once darkness fell, he’d cross the road and make his way to the house through the fields.

Charlie laid his head back against the wall and wondered yet again if he was doing the smart thing. He knew that most of his family was somewhere in Ireland. All he had to do was apparate there and he’d be safe. And, unlike many other wizards and witches, he had enough power to make such a long jump. He’d be exhausted upon arrival, but he’d be away from this place.

When full dark finally arrived, he crossed the road quickly. Threading his way through the backyards of several homes, he eventually reached a series of fields he could travel through to the Burrow. He was well away from the road and the ground was clear enough of obstructions that he was fairly certain he would spot someone approaching a good distance away.

Nearly an hour later he lay quietly by the stone fence that separated the land his family had lived upon for centuries from his neighbors. Ottery St. Catchpole wasn’t a big community, but the town had many outlying homes. He was surprised to see only a few of them had lights of any sort shining through their windows. Homes he knew to be muggle owned were being lit by fireplaces, candles and oil lamps. None of the homes seemed to have the steady glow of light only electricity could give.

Peering over the stone wall, he frowned. There was no source of light coming from the squat shape in the distance that he knew was his home. He started to reach for his wand but stopped just short of grasping it. He’d need light, but he couldn’t risk using his wand. He rummaged in his rucksack, thankful that working at the Dragon Preserve had forced him to resort to some muggle items. He pulled out the handheld torch and thanked Merlin that dragons were irritable when clutching and exposed to magic, hence all the handlers were given muggle hand torches to avoid annoying the great beasts.

With the torch in hand, he slipped over the wall and proceeded down to the Burrow. He approached the darkened building slowly. Something bothered him about it, but he couldn’t quite put a finger on it. It wasn’t until he had come within twenty feet of it that he realized what it was that was bothering him. Smoke. There was a faint scent of smoke as if, at one point, the building had been on fire.

He clicked on the torch and swung the beam to hit the side of his home. He gasped and reeled in shock at the site of the burned out building. The fire hadn’t been recent. In the light of the torch, the damage looked to be at least a couple weeks old.

Dropping his rucksack, he rushed into the building, pushing past the door that hung crazily by one hinge.

The building had been nearly gutted by fire. The upper floor had collapsed onto the main floor. The outer walls had also been badly damaged, but they had held.

Charlie sunk to his knees as a sob escaped his lips. Of all the possibilities, this was the one he had dreaded the most. Pushing the grief for the loss of his home and the worry for his mother and brother aside, he gathered his wits and pushed himself to his feet.

He looked around for a few more minutes before leaving the building, his shoulders slumped in defeat. He couldn’t search the wreckage using nothing more than a hand torch. He’d wait until morning to see what else he could discover.

He walked to the back of the building, an area he knew wouldn’t be easily visible from the nearby road, and climbed under his blanket. The smell of burned wood filled his nostrils and he knew he would be plagued by nightmares. Curling up and tucking his knees under his chin, he closed his eyes and let the tears he’d pushed away earlier fall.





* * *



Padfoot Manor, Harry and Hermione’s room…

Harry followed Hermione into their bedroom. He was very tense from the meeting and all he wanted was to sit down and relax. He also watched Hermione closely. She was obviously as tense as he was and he had no idea why she was so agitated.

He smiled weakly at the sight of the turned down bed. Winky had laid out a pair of silk boxers for him and a night gown for Hermione. On each pillow was a piece of candy. He shook his head and chuckled while Hermione stared at the bed for a moment, scowling.

“It’s got to be Winky’s doing, Hermione. Dobby’s never done anything like this. Besides, the way he’s been acting, he probably would have laid out a field marshal’s uniform for me,” he said, answering her unasked question.

She shot him a glare, then scooped up the nightgown and walked into the bathroom to change.

Harry shrugged and changed into his boxers, then threw on his robe. From the bathroom he could hear Hermione muttering to herself and he cringed slightly. He knew she was working herself into a frenzy and when she was ready, she'd explode.

He sat at the table and fingered the pouch of rings in the pocket of his robe. He jumped when the door to the bathroom slammed open and Hermione stormed out. He watched, a bit warily, as she threw on her robe and approached him.

When she grabbed him by the front of his robe and kissed him hard, he blinked in surprise, but went with it anyway. She released him a moment later and stepped back as he slid down in his chair a bit, his eyes a bit glazed.

“You are not Voldemort and are nothing like him!” she spat between clenched teeth. With her eyes flashing dangerously, she spun away from him and began to pace.

“Damn those Dursley’s for what they did to you, Harry James Potter! If I ever get my hands on any one of them, I swear I’d be tempted to use a Cruciatus curse on them! How can you even think your opinion of muggles is tainted?”

When she began to curse steadily under her breath, he shook his head. Turning away from her slightly, he pulled the pouch from his pocket and upended its contents onto the table. He eyed the glittering rings for a moment before he shuffled them around a bit, placing them in a neat pattern on the tabletop.

“I know it’s hard for you, Harry, but you need to work beyond what the Dursley’s have done to you. They are in your past. It’s over…”

“Hermione?”

“Do you have any idea how angry it makes me to hear when you put yourself down like that? Sometimes I want to scream! I want to hex those vile muggles into oblivion…”

Harry got out of his chair and stood in front of her as she paced towards him. “Hermione!”

She nearly collided with his chest. Rocking to a stop, she glared up at him. When he reached out and placed both hands on her shoulders, her expression softened somewhat. “What?” she asked, a bit confused.

He led her over to table where he had arranged the ten rings.

Seeing them, her brain lurched, and ground to a halt as Harry got down on one knee.

“Marry me?” he asked, the hope clearly evident in his voice.

She glanced back and forth between Harry and the rings several times, blinking owlishly.

“What?” she squeaked.

Harry glanced at the rings, then up at Hermione and wondered what part of ‘Marry me?’ was unclear.

“Er… Marry me?” he repeated, his voice beginning to shake with nerves as a cold knot formed in his stomach.

Hermione stepped back and stared at him. “Oh, Harry,” she said, her voice hitching. Then, as he watched, she spun away from him and bolted from the bedroom.

Harry watched her leave in stunned astonishment. He stood and looked at the rings then at the open door.

She didn’t say yes, he thought. But then, she didn’t say no, either. And what the hell kind of answer is ‘Oh, Harry’? It’s a simple yes or no question, for Merlin’s sake! He felt his heart lurch and clenched his fists. What was he supposed to do now?





* * *



Padfoot Manor, Dan and Emma’s room…

The door burst open and Hermione rushed into the room, much to the surprise of the elder Grangers, who were looking forward to a quiet night of reading in bed.

“Mum! He asked me to marry him!” she said skidding to a halt in front her parents. Emma bounced out of the bed and swept her daughter into a hug. Dan climbed out of bed more sedately and stood smiling at the pair.

“That’s wonderful, Hermione!” Emma exclaimed. “Which ring did you pick out?”

Hermione looked at Emma, confused, and the room fell silent.

“Ring?” she asked blankly. Suddenly she had the feeling that something was very wrong.

“Hermione, you did pick a ring, didn’t you?” asked Dan finally.

Her eyes darted between the two and a look of horror crossed her face.

“Hush Dan. Hermione, dear… what answer did you give Harry?” Emma asked gently.

“Answer?” she asked weakly.

Dan looked at his daughter’s expression and began to laugh so hard he collapsed back onto the bed, too weak to stand.

Emma looked at her daughter in horror. “Hermione Jane Granger! Do you have any idea what you’ve done to that young man? I don’t care what answer you give him, but you get your arse back into that room and give him an answer right this minute!”

“Oh gods!” Hermione blurted, realizing the magnitude of what she’d done. Spinning on her heel, she dashed back out the door, slamming it behind her.

Emma watched her go, shaking her head, then turned to her laughing husband. “She got that from you, you know.”

Dan got himself under control and looked at his wife. “What did I do?”

“What did you do? Need I remind you that after I said yes, you ran off to share the news with your mates and forgot to give me the ring?” Emma asked archly. “I had to wait four hours for you to remember that you were now engaged, and another hour for you to get your head out of your arse long enough to slip the ring on my finger!”

Dan looked sheepish. “I’d forgotten about that,” he muttered. Seeing Emma’s expression, he blanched. “It was a lovely wedding, though,” he tried.

When she narrowed her eyes and glared at him, he sighed. Climbing under the blankets, he picked up his book and resigned himself to one of ‘those’ nights. Just keep your mouth shut, old boy, he told himself. This, too, shall pass.





* * *



Padfoot Manor, Harry and Hermione’s room…

Hermione had only been gone for a few minutes and Harry still stood, almost rooted to the floor, trying to understand what had happened. He looked at the rings again. With a shaking hand, he reached out towards them, intent on shoving them back into the pouch and calling for Dobby to take them back to his vault.

“HARRY!”

He turned at Hermione’s shout and was startled to see a brown haired blur streaking back into the room. She leapt at the last minute, landing against his body hard and sending them both tumbling to the floor. When they landed, she was on top of him, her arms wrapped around him like a steel band.

He looked up at her, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Hermione?”

She began to kiss him; his mouth, his nose, his face, his neck. Between each, she murmured “Yes!” over and over.

He grinned, wrapping his arms around her. “You will?” he asked breathlessly. “You’ll marry me?”

“Yes!” she shouted. When he opened his mouth to ask if she was sure, she kissed him again and he thought his bones would melt.

Oh, yes, she’s sure! It was the last coherent thought he had for a very long time.





* * *



Padfoot Manor, Remus and Tonks’ room…

“HARRY!” echoed through the house and Remus looked up for a moment from his book and began to chuckle.

“Something funny?” asked Tonks as she padded into the bedroom from the bathroom, a towel still wrapped around her neck.

“Well, if that cry was what I think it was, Harry finally got around to showing Hermione the rings,” Remus told her, grinning.

“Well, good for him! At least he didn’t pussyfoot around and need someone else to prod him into asking.” She sniffed disdainfully, then smiled to show she was only joking.

Remus’ hand shot out. He grabbed her by the front of her robe and pulled her into an embrace before she could protest. Nuzzling his face between her breasts, his eyes flickered up to meet hers and she smiled.

“Someday, you and I will have to sit down and have a long talk about what it’s like to grow up a werewolf, Tonks. You know what it’s like to be different, but you don’t know what it’s like to be shunned, and to have people afraid of you. Harry probably knows what that’s like, but I suspect few others here, including you, know…”

She tried to reply, but he had begun to caress her in a way that made all logical thought impossible.





* * *



The Burrow, Ottery St. Catchpole, England…

The sun was barely touching the horizon when Charlie awoke. The night had left behind a chilling dew and he shivered under the lightweight blanket. Every bone and muscle in his body screamed when he tried stretching. He blinked in the bright morning light and, for a brief moment, wondered where he was. Then it hit him. The Burrow.

He sat up and looked at the building he had been huddled against. In the darkness last night he hadn’t been able to get a good idea of the damage to the building. In the cold light of day he was able to clearly see the horror that had once been his home. The collapse of the second floor had caused the eastern wall to partially collapse when a support beam broke through the wall.

He stuffed the blanket back into his rucksack and walked around to the front of the building. Looking around, he could see a few people in the distance and knew he probably shouldn’t stay here long. But he needed to know what had happened!

Taking a deep breath, he stepped into the Burrow and looked around. The devastation was total. Last night he’d only caught glimpses of it in the light from his hand torch. Now it was laid out in all its morbid glory. The roof was gone. The fire had raged unchecked and he wondered why the fire proofing charms hadn’t worked.

Stepping into what used to be the kitchen, he knelt by a familiar looking object. The clock was heavily damaged and no longer working, of course, but it was recognizable. Holding it in his hand, he frowned at it. He knew the clock would be missing the hand for Percy, as it had fallen off when he had been killed. But it was missing two other hands. Probably for Ronald and Mum, he thought sadly. But if the arms fell off after the fire or were destroyed by it, he mused, that would mean they aren’t dead.

It was thin. It was probably a false hope, but it was hope. He opened his rucksack and pulled out a t-shirt. Laying the shirt flat on the floor, he gently wrapped the clock in it and put it back into his rucksack. Placing the rucksack against the wall, he sat next to it, trying to figure out what his next step would be. The Weasleys were a large family and Molly could have escaped to seek shelter with any of her many cousins, aunts and uncles. She had no siblings living that she could go to.

Charlie made a mental list of names and places he had remembered visiting when he was little and growing up at the Burrow and decided to check as many of them as he could. Dad and the rest of his family might have given up on Molly and Ron, but he hadn’t.



* * *



Haven, Ireland (May 2nd)…

Harry and Hermione had talked long into the night. She had apologized for running out on him and, when it was all said and done, both agreed it would be an amusing memory in the years to come.

Today they had decided to take a day off. Dobby and Winky were preparing a family feast in celebration of the engagement and Harry was almost afraid to see what Dobby’s idea of a small family feast meant. Doing their best to escape the excitement of the elves, they had left the manor quickly and, linking hands, set off for Haven.

Harry smiled every time Hermione reached over with her free hand and felt for her ring. Last night, when the two of them had finally gotten off the floor, she had examined each ring carefully before making a selection. Her choice pleased Harry greatly. Her ring wasn’t the smallest or the largest he had offered her. It had, however, been worn by his paternal grandmother and half a dozen other Potter women before her.

“So, do we have a destination this morning or are we just walking around?” Hermione asked, enjoying the sunshine.

“I wanted to check in on the orphans. Then I thought you might want to take lunch at the school. You know your parents are in a frenzy of planning with Dobby for tonight’s celebration. Do you really want to be there for all that?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “My mother’s already thinking about where we can hold the wedding and we haven’t even set a date yet.”

Harry stopped her and placed a finger on her lips. “After Voldemort, honey. That’s all I think I can promise you. If I could do it right now, this minute, I would. But for your sake, and for the sake of the family we’ll make…”

“Reach… reach… reach…,” piped a small voice. Harry looked up sharply.

“For the sky!” hissed another small voice.

“Oh… yeah… Reach for the sky!” said the first voice. A nearby bush shook as small giggles were heard.

Hermione glanced at Harry, who was trying very hard not to laugh.

“Who’s there?” he demanded in mock anger.

“I am” said the first voice followed by more giggles.

“And who are you?” asked Hermione, peering at the large bush.

“Robin Hood,” said the voice, followed by a series of hurried whispers. “No, not Robin Hood. I’m Harry Potter! Now reach for the sky!”

Harry rolled his eyes and Hermione grinned, her eyes dancing with mirth. “Oh no! Not Harry Potter!” she exclaimed.

The bush shook from root to tip and two small boys tumbled out from behind it, then scrambled to their feet. The boys, no older than five or six stood and looked at Harry and Hermione, then each pointed a stick at them.

“You’re our poisoners!” said the younger looking boy.

“Prisoners,” said the other. The two looked at each other then nodded.

“March! We’re taking you to your dome!” said the younger of the two

“Doom!” said the other.

“Oh, yeah”

Harry and Hermione exchanged amused glances and let the two boys lead them to the farm house in the distance. One of the boys ran ahead to alert the Johansens that they were bringing in two desperate poisoners… er… prisoners.

Harry and Hermione climbed the short stairs to the doorway of the house just in time to see Olga Johansen open the door.

“Robert! What are you and Thomas doing to these nice people?”

Robert, spotting Olga, decided that Harry, who had made a wonderful prisoner, would now make an even better shield and slipped behind him.

“Mrs. Johansen?” asked Harry with a smile.

“Yes? Oh me and my manners, won’t you two please come in?” she asked, stepping back from the doorway. “You must be friends of Inga and Helga. I’ll put tea on, then call the girls, hmm?”

Surprised by the older woman’s behavior, Harry and Hermione let themselves be led into a kitchen where she moved about like a force of nature.

“Actually, Mrs. Johansen, Hermione and I decided to stop by to make sure your family and the children had everything they need. I think Hermione’s met your daughters, but I haven’t,” Harry said softly, trying to put the woman at ease.

Olga turned and looked at the pair sitting at her table. Her brow was furrowed in concentration and she tapped one finger against her chin. “Hermione? Now where have I heard of that name before?” she muttered to herself.

The backdoor opened and Sven entered the room followed by two of the older boys who looked to be about ten each. “And that’s why we milk the cow from the right hand side boys…” he stopped, staring at Harry and Hermione.

“Papa, we have visitors,” Olga said proudly, “Miss Hermione and…” She paused and stared at Harry in consternation.

Harry looked embarrassed. “Miss Hermione Granger and myself, Harry Potter.”

Sven’s face broke into a huge smile, while his wife sat heavily in one of the chairs, looking at Harry in shock. From the doorway several of the children started whispering among themselves. Little Robert, their captor, gulped loudly and backed away from the door.

“We didn’t mean to intrude on your family, Mrs. Johansen, I just wanted to make sure that you had everything you needed,” offered Harry.

Sven walked over and shook his hand. “We have much to thank you for, Mr. Potter. You saved our family, and Johan, then you gave us this wonderful home. Now Mama and I, we make one big family and I’ll teach the little ones how we grow food for the town, besides learning their numbers and letters.”

Harry smiled at the big burly man. “I’m glad Remus was able to help you, Mr. Johansen. When I heard you had taken in all the children from the orphanage, I told him to make sure you had whatever you needed to care for them as well as yourselves.”

“Mr. Lupin is a good man, a strong man, but a quiet one. I like that in a person. You can feel his strength without him bragging about it,” Sven said softly. Mama, recovered from her shock poured tea for everyone.

Hermione nudged Harry and pointed at the doorway where all the children were standing wide-eyed.

“I thought you were older,” Olga said.

Harry smiled at the woman. “I’m nearly seventeen, Mrs. Johansen. From what I understand, not much younger than your daughters, whom I’ve heard so much about. You’re here because your son was a student at Hogwarts and I wanted to save the students and their families. Then you took in these children, offering them love and a home. That makes you even more important to our community.

“I’ve heard about you and your husband and your efforts to help the community despite being muggles and I’m hoping that you’ll continue to be a shining example of everything good in both muggle and magical people.”

“Mr. Potter, would you like to see what Mr. Lupin and his elves have done for us here?” asked Sven shyly.

Harry’s face lit up. “I think I would, sir. I know you haven’t had time to actually start your farm, but I would like to see what you have planned.”

“Come then, we’ll walk around and let the women talk. I’m sure Mama will have some of her strudel ready by the time we come back,” he said with a grin.

Harry stood up and frowned for a minute as the muscles in his bad leg protested. With a flick of his wrist, his staff appeared in his hand. He glanced at Hermione and shook his head when she began to speak. Smiling at the older man, he followed him from the house, intent on looking over some of the other buildings the elves had put up for them.

Hermione watched Harry go fondly before turning back to Olga. “He was very worried about the children,” she said softly.

Olga leaned forward in her chair and sipped her tea. “The babies, they will be taken care of. Mr. Potter doesn’t need to worry about that.”

“He can’t help it, Mrs. Johansen. Harry is an orphan himself and never had the opportunity that you’ve given to these children.”

Olga patted Hermione’s hand comfortingly. “You tell him not to worry. Papa and I may not know much about raising wizards and witches, but we know about raising babies and making sure they are happy and loved. Now, about that strudel…”



* * *



Hogwarts Castle, the dungeons…

Two Death Eaters stood just inside the door to the potions laboratory. Inside, Severus Snape was tethered by a collar around his neck that was connected to a chain leading up to the ceiling. With a single gesture, one of the guards could cause the chain to retract, effectively hanging Snape. They had demonstrated the mechanism to him once when he had tried to escape using a poisonous concoction that killed one of the guards. Since then, Severus had behaved himself and continued to work as instructed.

The door opened and Lucius stepped in. “Wait outside,” he said to the guards.

Both men turned and exited the room. Severus glanced at Lucius nervously and he could see his guards bowing where they stood out in the corridor. A moment later Voldemort walked in and Lucius closed the door before taking a position just behind the Dark Lord.

Voldemort casually waved his wand, conjuring a comfortable chair. He sat down and stared at Snape, who had knelt as soon as he’d walked into the room. Snape bowed his head and trembled.

Voldemort looked around the dungeon carefully. He noted the large number of discarded, ruined cauldrons in one corner. From all appearances, the cauldrons were of all types of metals; iron, silver, gold and steel.

“You wanted an audience spy. Speak.” hissed the Dark Lord, his tone dangerous.

“My lord, I have reached an impasse in the required research you asked for. The Ritual of Anthrokrak requires three unique and difficult to brew potions…”

“And? I thought you were a potions Master?”

“My Lord, I can make the first two potions without difficulty. The last potion is the problem. The ingredients are highly volatile and I have tried every cauldron type to make the potion, all with the same results,” Snape said, gesturing to the pile of destroyed cauldrons.

“Impossible! No potion is that volatile. Show me your ingredient list,” Voldemort snapped.

Snape stood and turned, picked up a piece of parchment and turned again. Kneeling once more, he offered the list to the Dark Lord with a shaking hand.

Voldemort looked to Lucius, who stepped forward and took the parchment from Snape’s hand. He quickly scanned the list, then gave it to Voldemort, who read it with slowly widening eyes.

“Is this list correct?” he asked incredulously.

“Yes, my lord,” Severus said, cringing. “I have double and triple checked the translations. I think I have come up with an idea from the clues in the original texts, which is why I needed to speak with you. Your knowledge of dark lore is without peer.”

Voldemort folded his arms and stared down at the potions Master. “Very well, tell me of this clue.”

“My lord, when I began to realize that the final potion was too damaging to the cauldrons, I stopped brewing and started to research the history of the rite itself. There is little information about the origin of this rite, but what I have learned suggests that a special cauldron was used. I found one reference in an old Norse text which referred to the Ritual of Anthrokrak and something called the Cauldron of Chaos. It seems that the Cauldron of Chaos was created using meteoric iron and consecrated with the blood from many species, including Wizard, Goblin, Centaur and High Elf.

“The process for making such a cauldron is not known to me, my lord. I do know the High Elves died out as a species centuries ago. That means, in order to complete this potion we need to find at least one existing Cauldron of Chaos.”

Voldemort leaned back in his chair and rested his chin on one hand. His gaze grew unfocused as he considered what Snape had told him. “Yes,” he murmured. “I do recall reading several texts that mentioned such a cauldron. I know that more than one of these cauldrons was made, but they must be quite rare. Lucius…”

The blond stepped up to stand next to Voldemort in his chair. “My Lord?”

“Send out owls to all our suppliers and contacts on the continent. Just because Potter has trapped us here in Britain doesn’t mean we can’t get deliveries.”

Lucius nodded at his master’s command. Snape’s eye’s widened hearing the name of Potter and wondered how he had trapped them in Britain. Then he dropped his eyes again.

Voldemort considered the man kneeling before him. “I am not displeased with you, Severus. You are still a traitor, but you have proven to me that you still have your uses. As a reward, I will see that you receive extra food.”

Voldemort stood and banished his chair. Lucius opened the door and the Dark Lord swept from the room. A moment later the two guards returned and Lucius departed. Snape slowly climbed to his feet and breathed a sigh of relief.



* * *



Stonewall Lane, Dublin, mid-morning (May 5th)…

Harry, Hermione, Remus, Tonks and Michael O’Dalley arrived at the apparation point in front of Government House. A moment later, Dan and Emma appeared via portkey. The Grangers were starting to learn how to apparate, but had not yet mastered the skill.

“Right then,” said O’Dalley. “If you notice anyone following you, it’s because we have placed a security team in the lane to keep an eye on things for you. They have orders not to disturb you, but they are also here to make sure that people, including the press, don’t disturb you. The Minister will meet you here in Government House at six P.M. for the press conference. He realizes that you don’t want to answer questions, so he’s told the press that you will make a short statement, then go about your business.”

Harry knew he couldn’t avoid the press conference, but at least this way it would be short and sweet. The security detail was a bit of a surprise, but all things considered, the added security probably was a good idea.

“Thank you, Michael,” Harry said over the noise of the busy street, then turned to look at Stonewall Lane for the first time.

In many respects, the Lane resembled Diagon Alley with its many shops. But amidst the nineteenth century storefronts were some buildings of a decidedly more modern nature. The home of the Dublin Daily, the Wizarding paper for Ireland, was a modern looking building of steel and glass.

Gringotts was easy to spot with its gleaming white marble and characteristic slant. Harry had one order of business, then the rest of the day until the press conference was all theirs. Leading the others, he set off for Gringotts.

Inside the bustling lobby, he was met by Ragnok, Managing Director of Gringotts. When Ragnok spotted Harry and his group, he smiled toothlessly.

“Lord Potter, it is good to see you and your friends again. I am pleased to see you are well, considering the recent unpleasantness.”

“Director, I am happy to see you, as well. Might we have a word with you concerning a bit of business?” asked Harry with a slight bow.

“I thought you might be here on business, my lord. I have taken the liberty to prepare a conference room where we can talk.” He turned then and nodded to each member of Harry’s party. When his gaze fell on Hermione, his eyes dropped to her hand and, noting the ring, he smiled broadly.

“Welcome, Miss Granger. I see Lord Potter has finally announced his intentions and that you’ve accepted. You will make a fine Lady Potter.”

Hermione’s body tensed. It hadn’t occurred to her that if Harry were Lord Potter, she’d become Lady Potter. Harry winked at her and began to snicker. Hermione frowned and made a note to have a talk with her intended about his idea of surprises.

Ragnok led the party to a cozy conference room with a roaring fire. One wall was charmed so they could look out over Stonewall Lane. Sitting around the table Ragnok looked to Harry expectantly.

“Director, as of this morning the town of Haven boasts a population of thirty eight hundred and five people. We’ve set aside space next to our town center that would be ideally suited to a Gringotts branch. The British Ministry of Magic in Exile occupies an adjoining building and is currently in negotiations that stand a good chance to more than double our numbers as other governments send aid to help in our efforts.”

Ragnok’s eyes widened as Harry reeled off the numbers. The others could see he had caught his interest.

“What would you expect of us in return, my Lord?”

“I want to set up a fund, Ragnok. I will contribute half a million galleons to the fund, which you will then use to provide low interest rate loans to the people of Haven. Haven has only one official business at the moment. We have a lot of shops and manufacturing spaces that aren’t currently being used, but I have many people who need to feel as if they’re earning their own way. You bring Gringotts to Haven and administer these loans, Gringotts in Ireland helps us to jumpstart a new town. You’ll make money from managing the loan fund and your new branch office, I’ll make money off the interest on the loans, and the people we’ve rescued will regain their self respect.”

Ragnok looked up from the notes he’d been taking. “Is it your intention to take Haven public, my Lord? It will be nearly impossible for the town’s economy to thrive until you do.”

Harry leaned back in his chair and realized that everyone was staring at him. “I don’t see that we have much choice, Ragnok. The town itself is heavily warded, as are the surrounding areas, but I think we’ll have to drop the Fidelius charm around the town itself.”

Remus leaned forward. “Harry, think about what you’re saying. You’re talking about exposing everyone!”

Harry sighed. “We’re exposing them anyway, Remus. Today, at the press conference, we’ll be telling the world that we stole Hogwarts right out from under Voldemort’s nose, along with a bunch of the wizards and witches. People are going to wonder where all those people are. No, dropping the charm on Haven will allow the town to start to function like it should. We can keep the Fidelius up on the school, the Operations Center and the Manor house, however. My thought was to set up a ward similar to the one I put on Britain. Given its much smaller size, I shouldn’t need any help to do that.”

Remus frowned while Tonks and Emma exchanged worried glances. Ragnok watched the exchange with interest.

“Remus, Harry’s right,” Dan said. “The town can’t begin to work if it remains hidden from the local Wizarding population. Haven needs to be able to move products in and out, and the people need jobs. I agree that exposing the town increases the danger level, but we have a large number of Ex-Aurors in the population, nearly two hundred, and there are… what? One hundred others in training? We can set up a constabulary to protect the town.”

Remus nodded reluctantly, then turned to Harry. “Alright, I don’t like it, but I see the need. However, I would suggest that tonight you simply announce its existence and not where it is. We need time, Harry. We need time to plan this and to set up a force capable of defending the town.”

Harry glanced at Hermione, who nodded in agreement, before he turned back to Remus. “We’ll do it your way then. I guess, in my rush to get people back on their feet, I overlooked the details.”

Remus clapped him on the shoulder. “It’s alright, cub. It’s a good idea, but we need to refine it a bit first. In the meantime, I think Director Ragnok would like to get back to the business at hand.”

“Not at all, Mr. Lupin,” offered Ragnok. “This conversation has been enlightening, to say the least. However, I need to confer with the board members of Gringotts to determine the extent of the branch we will open in Haven. But I will agree at this point that Gringotts will open a branch office in the town. I will owl Mr. Lupin with the details and specifics when I have them.”

Harry carefully expelled the breath he’d been holding and smiled at the Goblin. “Thank you, Director. I do hope you will do us the honor of joining us some evening for dinner in Haven?” Harry asked.

Ragnok’s looked shocked. Goblins were never invited to dinner by wizards! When Harry stood, Ragnok, who had to shake off the urge to gape, stood and bobbed his head. “I’d be honored, my lord,” he stammered.



* * *



The Notting Hill section of London…

Charlie Weasley was exhausted and hungry. In the last three days he had visited the homes of several relatives, trying to discover where his mother and brother were. To his surprise, not every home he visited was deserted.

Great Aunt Milly still lived in her little apartment in Seaton. He had managed to get a meal and a full night’s sleep. She had been ecstatic to see him, but she was approaching one hundred and seventy and kept asking him his name over and over again. Charlie spent a comfortable night on her couch with a warm blanket and a full belly. He left in the morning, promising that he’d find some way to return and help her once he found his mother.

That was two nights ago. Since then, he had slept in burned out buildings and scavenged food from a looted grocery store. Now he was heading for his cousin’s apartment, a place he’d only visited once when he’d been ten years old. His cousin was a squib and worked as an accountant.

Charlie was shocked to see large swatches of London had burned to the ground. There were a lot more people in the city than in the urban areas where people were hiding and hoping things would blow over.

The city seemed to crawl with people and military convoys were constantly moving about. Charlie was horrified to see many convoys contained at least one Death Eater. He overheard one person claiming Death Eaters were civilian consultants helping the military control things until the government got back on its feet again.

Struggling to remember the address, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to find it. And with all the convoys, he was feeling a bit exposed. He’d have to wait until dark to check in with his cousin and find out if he knew where Molly was.



* * *



Government House, Stonewall Lane, Dublin…

Harry sat with his friends in a small anteroom just off of the official press room in Government house. Amelia and Arthur had met them there. Both of them would be participating in the press conference, as well as Brogan Mallory, the Minister of Magic for Ireland.

Harry leaned back and closed his eyes, thinking of their day. After Gringotts, he and Hermione had gone off on their own, exploring and just enjoying being out without worrying about missions, or people.

Strangely enough, everyone accidentally met up again in front of Brigid’s Bridal Boutique. Emma laughed seeing both Hermione and Tonks eagerly eyeing the various gowns in both muggle and Wizarding styles. Fortunately, Harry and Remus were spared the experience of being dragged inside the building since they all had a dinner engagement.

After dinner they’d walked leisurely to Government house where they were now waiting for the press conference to start.

Hermione hid a grin as she watched Harry. He was obviously nervous about the upcoming news conference. He’d sit down for a few minutes, then stand and pace, then sit and wipe sweaty hands on his pants. Then he’d repeat the process all over again. She finally managed to get him to sit with her by the simple expedient of capturing his hand and refusing to let it go. She knew he hated the press and the fame of the Boy-Who-Lived, but he’d asked for this conference and he would have to learn to deal with it.

“Relax, Harry. You’ll give your statement and that’s all you need to do,” she whispered.

When he nodded, then looked around for an escape route, she rolled her eyes and tightened her grip on his hand…just on the off chance he decided to make a run for it.

A moment later, Michael O’Dalley slipped into the room. “They’re ready now, my lord,” he said softly and Harry eyed him grimly. Sighing, he stood up

Following O’Dalley of out the room, he was directed to a seat up on the stage with Mallory and Amelia. The room was filled with people eyeing him curiously. A moment later a witch stepped up to the podium and addressed the crowd of reporters.

“In a moment the Minister will make a short statement, then Harry Potter will make a statement, followed by Minister Bones of the British Ministry of Magic. Both Minister Bones and Minister Mallory will be available after their statements to take questions.”

Harry could see the disappointment in the eyes of the reporters and he fought to hide a smile.

“Ladies and gentleman, the Minister for Magic, Brogan Mallory,” the witch announced, and then stepped away from the podium and sat down

“Citizens, Wizards and Witches of the world. In the past month we have been witness to the extraordinary and horrifying events taking place in Britain. By reason of our close proximity to the danger, your government has been taking measures to ensure the safety of our people. Today I have introduced a bill to our Wizengamot requesting additional funding to increase our Auror force.

“We have taken steps to ensure your safety and will continue to do so, now and an in the future. One of those steps was a decision that some have called dangerous and foolhardy. To those I would say, we are Irish! We have lived through adversity and come out the other side stronger for it. The decision to allow Harry Potter to come to our land wasn’t made lightly on our part. It was, in my opinion, a gamble that has paid off. Mr. Potter was not only instrumental in preventing Voldemort from leaving Britain, but he also orchestrated the total evacuation of Hogwarts students and staff, not to mention its vast library of precious books of lore. Thus denying the evil Dark Lord of it's bounty.

“But rather than hearing about it from me, let the world hear from the man himself. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Harry Potter,” Mallory said with a large smile, then he stepped back.

Harry stood and stepped up to the podium. He blinked rapidly as the flashes from many cameras went off. Trying to clear the spots from his vision, he stared back at the people in the room.

“Minister Mallory,” Harry began softly, “for myself and for the people we’ve managed to save, I thank you. I also would like to thank the people of Ireland for welcoming us.

“Some months ago, when we first realized what we were up against, we made plans. Plans to save as many as we could and plans to prevent the spread of Voldemort’s madness. We have saved nearly four thousand people and, in the process, have created a defensive shield that is designed to prevent the spread of the Dark Lord’s diseased ideals.

“To the people of Ireland, I say rest easy. While we have significantly reduced the threat against your lives and your homes, the threat still remains, and we are working closely with your government to ensure your safety. But Voldemort will not step on sacred Irish soil anytime soon.

“To any still in Britain who may hear my words, I say take heart! You are not alone and we will not abandon you! Britain may be under the heel of Voldemort, but we shall never surrender to him.

“Even as I speak, we are fighting back. The stain, the curse of Voldemort, has been stopped at the shores of Britain, making it harder for his evil to spread. When the time is right, we will take back what is ours and see that he perishes in the flames of his own madness.

“To that end, Minister Bones is working closely with Minister Mallory and other Wizarding governments around the world to coordinate our actions. With no small degree of respect, I yield the podium to her, so that she can explain what the British Ministry is doing to protect our people and the world,” Harry said, then he stepped away from podium. Two of O’Dalley’s men stood from their chairs and escorted Harry off the stage ignoring the shouted questions from the press.

Stepping into the anteroom, Harry let the stress bleed away. He walked forward into Hermione’s open arms and let her wrap him in her embrace, taking strength from her support.

“Merlin! I hope I don’t have to do that again,” he whispered.



* * *



The Notting Hill section of London…

Charlie Weasley inched toward the building he wanted to approach. Parts of London apparently still had electricity and the building he wanted was surrounded by lit streetlights.

He sat back in the shadows and considered his options. From what he could see, the building he wanted was close to one that the military was using, which explained the checkpoints at both ends of the street and why the area in-between was patrolled every few minutes.

He adjusted his rucksack and moved out carefully, trying to stay in the shadows. He hadn’t gotten twenty feet when he halted. He had heard a clicking noise behind him.

“Alright, mate. Come out nice and easy and you may not get hurt,” said a rough voice.

Charlie turned to see two men holding weapons on him. One man wore a helmet with a set of goggles attached to it. He could obviously see Charlie and track his movements as the weapon followed him.

Unsure of the weapons or the strange eyepiece the man wore, Charlie whirled on his heel and started to run. From behind him came a warning, then a sharp noise. Charlie felt something fiery slam into his upper leg and he started to fall. He apparated instinctively, using the coordinates he had looked up days earlier for Ireland. He had memorized them on the off chance that something like this happened.

He reappeared in a darkened alley and tumbled to the ground. Once he’d skidded to a stop, he sat up painfully and examined his leg. Now that he was in Ireland, he could use magic again. Pulling his wand out of his rucksack, he cast the light spell and looked over the wound. It was ugly, but he’d been wounded before. With a mental shrug, he healed himself, and then leaned back against the alley wall. As the adrenalin washed from his system, exhaustion set in. Before Charlie realized what was happening, he was unconscious.

A little over an hour later, a figure stood over the unconscious redhead. When the tip of a wand lit up the alley, Charlie groaned, but didn’t wake. Had he done so, the merry twinkling of bright blue eyes would have startled him.

“My word, if it isn’t Charlie Weasley! What a fortuitous and welcome find,” murmured a grandfatherly voice.





* * *



Authors Notes:

First off, Alyx is better, although that is a matter of opinion if you ask me. She claims she's better, but I see no sign of her insanity improving.

A few have complained about the number of new characters. Unfortunately no matter how much you might want to see Harry, Hermione, Remus and Tonks do it all, it's just not possible. We need to introduce new characters who will have jobs that will happen mostly in the background. A few of the new characters might be more visible than others. But not by a large amount.

Mama Johansen is a bit of a pushy woman, she insisted we give her a greater role than we had originally planned, but hey, it works. She's not really replacing Mrs. Weasley although she will share many characteristics with the Good Mrs. Weasley.

The fact that Dumbledore is still hovering around the edges and stirring up trouble should be an indication that we have no intention of crushing him anytime soon. So please stop asking that we let Harry kill him. It's just not going to happen yet.

Yes, we admit it. In the last chapter we poked fun at both France and the Euro. It's not our fault. Canada made us do it!

If one more person decides to drop us a note telling us that Britain includes blah blah blah and blah, we will relocate this story to Antarctica and tell all the nit pickers to buy warm clothing cause we're moving your country to someplace comfy.

As to the readers creeped out by our comments about the French President. Well if you think politicians, from any country, aren't sleaze balls then I have a bridge to sell you.

We're sorry if people think we've kept the details of the Druid rite vague, but then why should we tell you a couple chapters before we actually use it. All you need to know is (a) The ritual will provide them with goodies, but (b) not before it embarrasses them all.

Not every single person will be hooked up with someone. Sorry.





Sunrise Over Britain

Chapter 4 - Labor Pains


Standard Disclaimer:

Professor Severus Snape walked out onto the stage at gunpoint. Behind him stood another figure that looked strangely familiar.

Harry nudged Hermione in their seats. “Watch this,” he whispered.

“They could be brothers!” gasped Hermione.

The figure behind Snape prodded him with the barrel of the Submachine gun. “Say the words!” he snarled in a light German accent.

Snape glanced back at the man and frowned. He too was struck by the uncanny resemblance. Shrugging he began to speak.

“The authors of this pathetic tale wish you to realize they are not JK Rowling. They own nothing of the Potterverse and make no claims upon the copyrights therein,” Snape said disdainfully.

“Now watch, he's gonna say it!” Harry exclaimed to Hermione.

“Say what?” asked Hermione in exasperation.

“His own famous words.”

The figure behind Snape prodded him again with the machine gun. “In the words of a famous American, Yippee Kai Yay Motherfucker!” the man growled, then pulled the trigger.

“Hans Gruber, we got him especially for this chapter,” Harry said smugly.

Hermione watched the famed terrorist turned thief blow Snape into multiple pieces and she found herself strangely aroused by the sight. Without even thinking her hand slid to Harry's crotch and caressed him.

“I can't believe you're writing this stuff!” Alyx said turning on Bob in a fit of anger.

“Oh come on. You won't let me write fun stuff like Harry having a harem and dozens of orgasms a night with fifty women. So I have to turn to Man's second best friend. Violence and explosions!” Bob retorted, barely looking up from his playing Doom 42.



* * *



Sunrise Over Britain

Chapter 4



* * *



Irish Ministry of Magic, (May 9th)...

Brogan Mallory looked up from his desk as Michael O'Dalley escorted Amelia Bones and Arthur Weasley into his office. This was the first time he was meeting them here. Previously they had met at Haven or in the Public Affairs Office prior to the press conference a few days ago.

Smiling, Mallory waved the three to seats. They then sat quietly for the few minutes it took his aide to bustle about serving tea.

“Minister Bones, as the host country to your Ministry, we have received a number of inquiries from other Ministries, along with offers of assistance that I need to pass along to you,” Mallory said as the door closed behind the aide.

Amelia nodded seriously. “Yes, I was hoping that our Press Conference might start some diplomatic wheels turning. We are most anxious about opening dialog with the Canadian and American Ministries as soon as possible.” When Mallory raised an eyebrow in question, she hurried on. “I do not mean to cast an aspersions on your ministry, Sir, or upon your hospitality...,” she said.

“Please, Amelia, call me Brogan,” offered Mallory with a vote winning smile.

Amelia adjusted her monocle and eyed him for a moment, trying not to scowl. Her view of politics was skewed by roots in law enforcement and Fudge's tenure as Minister. While she understood the need for political posturing, at least intellectually, it didn't mean she had to enjoy it.

“As I was saying, we have a number of items which rightfully belong to the British Government. From what I have learned, both Canada and the United States have offered to host the British Government in exile. There is some talk of the government perhaps locating to New York City so it can be close to the Security Council. In any event, we want to begin the process of returning these cultural items.”

Brogan was about to say something when he realized that O'Dalley was laughing. He frowned and turned to face his Auror turned special liaison.

“I apologize, Minister,” O'Dalley said, still chuckling. “But I'm sure you recall the British complaining about the 'Cultural Bandits' that were robbing museums all around the country?”

Mallory leaned back in his chair. As the pieces fell into place, he turned to gape at Amelia, who smiled sheepishly at him while Arthur fidgeted in his chair.

“Just how many cultural objects are we talking about here?” asked Mallory in an astonished tone.

Amelia looked at Arthur, who had the grace to blush. “Several thousand I think. I don't have a complete count of what we took. We warned the Prime Minister that we would be taking steps to ensure that the British Cultural treasures were preserved.”

Mallory shook his head in a mixture of awe and amusement and made a note on a piece of parchment. “Alright, I'll try to set up a meeting with both the American and Canadian Ministry representatives for you. Is there anything else?”

“Yes, sir,” offered O'Dalley. “As you are aware, Lord Potter is planning on dropping the Fidelius charm on the town of Haven once they have a working constabulary. Right now they're training forty people to work as such, but they would like to put their force under Irish control. Essentially, the idea is to assign the town of Haven four Aurors. One would be the nominal head of their constabulary, while the remaining three would cover an eight hour shift. Lord Potter has offered to pay seventy five percent of the Aurors pay with our government picking up the remaining twenty five percent.”.

Mallory leaned back in his chair. “Mr. Potter's participation in the press conference has done a number of good things for our people. Morale is up and the peoples confidence in the government is high. They know the fight isn't over, but they are determined. I think Mr. Potter's idea has merit. As it stands, our own Auror recruitment is up by nearly sixty percent, and the head of our MLE is in seventh heaven with his new budget.”

Mallory paused for a moment, thinking quickly. “When do you expect to drop the Fidelius charm?”

“No later than the end of the month. It will take us at least that long to get our constables trained properly,” answered Amelia.

“Would Mr. Potter be willing to show off the town to the press?” Mallory asked in a hopeful tone.

Amelia frowned. “I'm not entirely sure about that, Brogan. Harry... he is an intensely private young man. He does what he does not because of the fame or glory. He does it because he's the only one who can. I promise you I'll ask him on your behalf. I have no doubt in my mind that he would be willing to allow you and myself to show the press around the town. But for himself? I think he'd be happy to never see the press again in his lifetime, let alone have to address them or escort them around.”

“Yes, I sensed his discomfort around the press and whenever anyone spoke about his exploits,” Mallory said. “He is clearly not a politician, but his natural shyness makes him even more endearing to the public. I'm afraid he will never be able to live his life outside of the public eye, Amelia. You might want to sit him down and try to explain that to him.”

Amelia nodded thoughtfully, then consulted her notes. “Oh, that reminds me, Brogan. Harry has asked me to pass his thanks to you and your Aurors for agreeing to provide security for the ritual they will be conducting tomorrow night.”

Mallory smiled and waved that away with a hand. “Nonsense. Mr. Potter is a welcome guest to our country. If we can help by providing a little extra security for a rite, then so be it.”

Amelia returned his smile. Neither commented on fact that the 'little extra security' included fifty Aurors.



* * *



Parliament building (May 9th)...

Lucius sat behind a large ornate desk and enjoyed the view from his window. He could see the near empty streets and military convoys patrolling them. Power was back on to most of the city, except those areas too damaged by fires. The military had combed through employment files of the utilities and forced people back to work, often at gunpoint. In some cases, families had been executed in order to get people working.

There weren't many civilians visible on the streets, and those that were quickly went about their business. People were afraid to interact on anything but a superficial level.

When the office door opened, he looked up from his musing to accept a report from one of his Death Eaters. He quickly scanned the report, frowning. The team that had gone to HMP Erlestoke had reported back that their target was already dead. When the power failed, and the support personal had fled the prison, the inmates had been locked in and were not fed or watered. Lucius was not pleased. This was a personal project of his, one which he hoped to present to his master as an accomplished fact, and it was beginning to look like he had thought of it too late.

Although someone can survive without food for a fair amount of time, water is an entirely different matter. A person can die from dehydration in as little as five days to as much as two weeks. It had been nearly four weeks since the prison had been abandoned, leaving one Vernon Dursley to die. Petunia had suffered a similar fate, a fact he had learned only yesterday. According to his records, that left only Marge Dursley, an unrelated aunt who had limited value in his mind, and a cousin, Dudley. He scribbled a note, which he then passed to the waiting Death Eater. The man took the note and left the room quietly while Lucius turned to contemplate the scene from his window again.

Outside, the word quickly spread, find Dudley Dursley. Find Dudley and bring him to London, alive and unharmed.



* * *



Padfoot Manor...

Hermione watched Harry and worried. As the time approached for them to invoke the Rite of Summoning, he became withdrawn and surly. She knew why he was upset. The problem was she didn't know how to fix it, or even if it were fixable.

She had spoken with Remus and Tonks about it, as well as her parents. Not that it had done her any good to do so. They all seemed to think that if anyone could reach him, she could.

Harry was upset about the upcoming rite because of the nudity involved. He wasn't upset at the others being naked as much as he was concerned about himself being naked. Hermione understood his problem, but his reason behind it was one she didn't have much experience with. In the last few days, as the time of the rite approached, she'd come to realize that she had much the same problem, though it was for different reasons entirely.

She had been certain that being naked in front of others wouldn't bother her. She and her parents had visited clothing optional beaches in Europe in the past. It hadn't even phased her when her own parents went au natural at those beaches.

It was startling to realize that while such things were perfectly fine for her parents, the idea of doing such a thing herself made her skin crawl. And that revelation gave her an idea. Perhaps together they could combat the fear.

“Harry?”

“Hmm?”

“I think we need to talk about something. Come over here,” Hermione said softly. Her eyes sparkled mischievously.

He eyed her suspiciously, but did as she asked.

She stood and cast a silencing charm on the room, then sealed it to prevent anyone from walking in. Smiling at Harry, who stood uncertainly in front of her, she began to unbutton her blouse.

“I realized,” she said softly, “that we're both very uncomfortable with nudity. Though our reasons are different, the results are the same for both of us.”

Harry's eyes widened and he swallowed nervously as she peeled out of her blouse.

“Tomorrow night,” she continued, “we'll have to be naked in front of our closest friends, when the fact is, neither of us is even comfortable being naked with each other. We've tried it a few times, like in the bath, but always in dim lighting.”

She reached around and unhooked the clasp of her bra, then shrugged her way out of it before reaching for Harry and the buttons on his shirt.

He stood, immobilized by her actions, and knowing what a deer felt like when caught in the headlights of a muggle car. What was worse, she kept talking to him. Didn't she realize how distracting it was? He gazed at her naked breasts and opened his mouth to tell her just that, but nothing came out.

“Love,” she said as she unbuttoned his shirt and kissed his exposed flesh, “there's nothing about your body for you to be ashamed of. The scars are not your fault, and they're only the outer most part of a very complex and beautiful person.”

Harry moaned slightly and helped her remove his shirt. Every time that they had made love, or been naked together, it was with reduced lighting. It was at night and the light of his Everlast Candle softened the stark lines that crisscrossed his torso. He trembled under her touch as she embraced him and he reveled in the feel of her bare breasts against his skin.

“I want you,” she whispered into his ear. “I want you to take me, now in the bright light of day. I want to watch your beautiful body and I want you to watch me. I want you to know that I love you for more than just your body and that the scars that bother you so much mean nothing to me.”

When she unbuttoned her skirt and let it fall to the floor, his mouth went dry. When she knelt in front of him and unfastened the front of his pants and let them drop to the floor, his head spun as the blood dropped further south, leaving all rational thought nothing but a vague memory.

She suppressed a grin when he popped out of the front of his boxers and she gripped him lightly in her hand. She looked up at him and smiled impishly, then ran her tongue along his length. Harry groaned and clenched his fists fighting the urge to guide her head with his hands. She did it a second time, then she stood and led him over to a day bed in the room.

She sat behind him on the bed, and he tensed when he felt her begin to caress the scars along his back. The haze that had replaced his thoughts receded and his hands fisted as he resisted the urge to stand up and move away from her.

“You are not your scars. They are part of you, yes, but they don't define who you are,” she said in a husky voice.

Harry shivered as her breath ran along his back. He try to accept what she was saying, but it wasn't easy. He turned to face her and looked into her eyes. Seeing love and trust reflected in them, and not the disgust or pity he had half expected, he knew she was right. To her, his scars meant nothing.

Reaching for her, he felt the weight of shame lift from his shoulders as he pulled her into his embrace. When he lay back on the bed, taking her with him, he thought, the light of day never looked so good.



* * *



Haven School of Witchcraft and Wizardry...

Ginny went about her classes with the rest of her school mates, but her mind and heart weren't entirely in it. Tomorrow night she and the rest of the outcasts would participate in a rite, last performed over fifteen centuries ago. That the rite was ancient wasn't a problem, but the requirement of being naked was not a prospect she was very comfortable with. She felt she could handle it, although she never expected to have to expose herself to so many people at one time.

No, what bothered her was the fact that Charlie had not replied to her owl. She had written Charlie's boss and had learned that he had left the same day he had received a letter from a family member. She could only assume that the letter he was talking about was his own. The question now was a simple. Where was Charlie Weasley?

And as if the problem with Charlie wasn't enough to distract her from studying for her OWLS, her brothers had stopped by last night with gossip that her father might be crushing on a widow in Haven. That piece of news both elated and worried her. She wanted her father to be happy, but it really signaled the end of his relationship with her mother. Intellectually, she knew it was over, even if she was still alive somewhere in Britain, but her heart frowned over the idea.

Ginny sighed and pushed away her school books. Perhaps it was time to write another letter to Charlie...



* * *



Padfoot Manor...

Neville Longbottom looked at the note that the house elf had delivered and smiled. Millicent Bulstrode had sent it, saying that she would be sending him cuttings from a giant flesh orchid later today along with seedlings for sunflowers and mandrakes. He shook his head, remembering that Millicent's plans to escape Voldemort had collapsed in the final rush to evacuate Hogwarts and she had ended up coming to Haven with the rest of the school. Her family had been one of the first rescued by the extraction teams after the students arrived.

The work that he and Ginny had performed during the evacuation had enabled Professor Sprout to quickly restart the greenhouses at the new school. Neville had helped her as much as he could until he had been pulled off for his current project.

Neville couldn't help but grin and puff his chest out with pride. Harry had given him leave to set up greenhouses large enough to support the hospital. Harry had also instructed him to be 'exotic' with his thinking. He wanted Neville to plan on building a set of greenhouses capable of supplying both common and rare potion ingredients.

This was a side of Herbology that Neville had never experienced before, but Professor Sprout had some good suggestions for him. He had been looking to construct typical railway style greenhouses when a comment from Hermione sent him scurrying to the library to check out the advancements made by muggles over the last century. As a result, and with the help of the house elves, he had put together four traditional greenhouses, and two of a more advanced geodesic design using Fresnel lenses. The advanced lenses had to be purchased from muggle suppliers, unlike ordinary glass, which could have been conjured. But the net result was a greenhouse that enabled Neville to provide a blooming season all year.

Professor Sprout was so impressed with the design she wanted him to write it up for Backyard Herbologist Magazine.

Neville leaned back in his chair and thought about the ritual they would be undergoing tomorrow night. He had no problem with himself being seen naked, but he was ashamed to admit he did have a problem with others seeing Ginny so. He and Ginny had talked about this over the past week and really hadn't reached any solution or conclusion, other than the fact that she would be naked in front of other guys. Something in their conversation however sparked an idea in him.

“Nevie, I know it bothers you, but have you thought about how much it must bother someone like Harry?” she asked him.

“What do you mean?”

“You know how he is about those scars of his. I can positively promise you that Harry is not going to be looking at me and lusting after my naked body. He's going to be too embarrassed. And Draco? He's bonded to Luna! He couldn't look at me like that even if he wanted to. Remus? Mr. Granger? Both of them have their own wives and girlfriends to keep them in line and I doubt they're going to be interested in looking at me. No, I see what Harry's doing by choosing who he did. He picked couples only. In doing so, he arranged it for each person to have someone there to support them, someone who loves them above all others.

“Harry did it right. I do feel sorry for him though. He must be tormenting himself over this. He carries a lot of extra guilt from what those muggles did to him,” she said sadly.

Neville's expression hardened. If Harry can put up with this, then so can I, he thought. Ginny's right. Harry must be tormenting himself right now.





* * *



Ballincollig, County Cork, Ireland…

Charlie slowly reconnected with the world and realized he was laying on a comfortable bed. His leg was sore and his body was stiff, but otherwise things didn't feel too bad. He lay for a moment longer, trying to recall exactly what had happened when it all came flooding back to him. He opened his eyes and blinked madly in the bright sunshine.

There was the sound of a muggle television nearby and, from outside the window, came the rumbling of trucks on the street. He started to sit up, but his strength gave out before he could.

“Rest easy, Charles,” said a familiar voice.

Charlie whipped his head around and he looked up. Albus Dumbledore stood in the doorway, smiling benignly.

“Professor Dumbledore? Where... what...”

Dumbledore crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed. He pat Charlie on the shoulder. “Rest easy, Charles,” he repeated. “I found you in an alleyway that is commonly used as an apparation point. You were unconscious and magically exhausted.”

Charlie frowned and tried to recall the events. “Yes, I was in London, looking for signs of my mother or of Ron. Ginny had sent me a letter asking me to come to Ireland, but I went to England to find Mum. There was a muggle army patrol on the street. I ran. I remember a burning in my leg and I apparated as soon as I felt myself starting to fall.”

Dumbledore peered closely at him. “You are still weak from exhaustion, Charles. I will bring you some food. As for news of your brother and your mother, I fear the worst for both. Young Ronald was trapped in greenhouse number six when the back wall was opened to the Forbidden Forest. I fear the Acromantulas made short work of him. As to your mother, she vanished before the troubles began. The divorce between your parents hit her very hard, I'm afraid. I did try to locate her, but after the change of government, most of the Order was forced to go into hiding.”

Dumbledore stood and walked to a small kitchen. Taking sausage, bread and cheese out of a muggle refrigerator, he made quick work of slicing and arranging it on a plate. Placing the food on a tray, he levitated it over to Charlie. He then filled a teapot with water and, with a flick of his wand, heated it.

“I take it you didn't find any sign of your mother, Charles?” he asked, his voice sorrowful.

“No, sir,” Charlie said, his mouth full of sausage. “I found one great Aunt still in her home, but everyone else was gone.”

Dumbledore poured them both a cup of tea and nodded sadly. “Yes, I fear we're in for very dark times. Voldemort has won the war in Britain, and our best hope for fighting him is being controlled by dark influences. But no matter. Charles, you must rest for a while still. You are not ready to be up an about yet. Another day or two should do the trick. Then we can talk of important matters and make plans.”

Charlie had glanced up sharply at Dumbledore when he mentioned dark influences, but he didn't comment yet. Turning back to his breakfast, he tore into the meal. He was barely finished when a wave of fatigue washed over him.

Placing the tray on the night stand, he was asleep moments later.

Dumbledore vanished the tray from the table and sat contemplating this turn of events. He had caught the press conference Harry had given in Stonewall Lane, but had arrived too late to intercept him. The next morning, the Dublin Daily was full of coverage of the event. He read Harry's words again and shook his head. Harry had brought over four thousand people with him! The number astounded him and made him even more eager to find the boy. Once he controlled Harry Potter, he'd have those people backing him as well.



* * *



Padfoot Manor...

Emma looked up as Dan entered their bedroom. She put down her quill to look at the pile of books her husband was struggling with. He stumbled over to the table and dropped them with a loud crash.

“I swear I don't know how you and Hermione do it,” Dan said in an annoyed tone.

“Do what?”

“How do you manage to memorize all these spells and wand movements? I always knew you were both smart and it always made me proud, but lately I've begun to feel a bit like a moron here.”

“Memorization seems to come easily for both of us, Dan, but the ability to memorize isn't really a measure of intelligence,” Emma offered in a placating tone.

“I know that, love. But while you and Hermione look at something and memorize it almost immediately, I get stuck struggling with it,” he grouched as he pulled out a small book from his back pocket. It looked to be mostly plastic with a spiral bound flip top. Opening the book, he flipped several pages until he found a clean one. Then, tapping his wand to the new page, a hand appeared over it, holding a wand. A moment later, Dan's voice named the spell, gave the incantation, then the hand made the appropriate wand movement.

Emma blinked in surprise and watched her husband go through the movements for the spell several times before she overcame her shock. “Dan? What is that?” she asked curiously.

Dan looked at her and smiled mischievously. “This, my oh-so-incredibly-intelligent-and-sexy-wife,” he said smugly, “is my version of crib sheets for wizards. I used the same idea in college, although I admit I had to read the pages. Remus helped me with the spell to record the image and the voice. Each page contains one spell.”

“B-B-But did Remus show you how to enchant the pages like that? The playback spells aren't for enchantments, I thought,” she said in protest.

Dan shrugged. “I don't know. I just know that Remus showed me the spells and Harry showed me how to make the first page, then I used them to build myself a little reference book. I had to have O'Dalley find me the plastic sheets I needed, but an office supply store had them.”

Emma frowned and summoned a house elf who she sent off in search of Remus.





* * *



Hogwarts Castle...

Peeves rummaged through the boxes Harry Potter had brought him. After some digging he found exactly what he was looking for. Many of the pranks that Harry had left him were nothing more than that - pranks. Annoying they may be, but they weren't what he wanted. However, one box was filled with objects much more deadly. Stuffing his pockets, Peeves decided it was time for him to stir up the black cloaks.

Sir Nicholas watched Peeves for a moment before he turned to the Bloody Baron. “This doesn't look good,” he murmured.

“No, but we may have some new company when he's done,” the Baron replied with a feral grin.

Peeves turned transparent and floated through a nearby wall. His plan was a simple one. Besides, he had permission from Harry Potter himself to wreak a little havoc, didn't he?





* * *



Haven Operations Center...

As much as Harry would have loved to spend the entire day making love to Hermione, they both realized they had duties to attend to. Harry kissed her gently and promised to meet up with her at dinner, he needed to talk to Draco and Miles. He helped her get dressed first and, in doing so, nearly caused her to change her mind about what they'd do that day. He only laughed while she grumbled about it being unfair that he had to kiss her skin before covering it with clothing.

Harry was whistling as he walked the path from the back of the manor to the Operations Center. The center itself was a squat, non-descript building. From the outside it was a single story brick building with a few windows and several large doors. The inside was an entirely different matter. The building extended several levels below ground. The first level contained most of the administrative offices and planning areas. The second level contained classrooms, an auditorium for large briefings and several reinforced training areas. There were two additional levels below that which were slowly being occupied as new needs arose.

Miles looked up at the knock on his door and, spotting his visitor, he smiled warmly. “Harry, come in!” he said, waving the young man to a chair.

“Draco will be joining us soon. He sent me an owl a few minutes ago letting me know he would be a little late.”

“Excellent. While we're waiting, have you had a chance to look over information the Irish provided us?”

Miles frowned. “Yes, but I think you're more on the mark in regard to the numbers than the Irish are. I figure we're looking at one hundred marked Death Eaters. The real problem is, with Voldemort stuck in Britain now, any other recruits Dolohov picks up will not be marked.”

“What about those heading into Britain to join him?”

Mile rummaged through a stack of parchments before finding the one he wanted. “According to my counterparts in the French and German Ministries, they have noticed a significant drop in the number of undesirables they've been monitoring. The Germans report several Pureblood societies have all but vanished from their soil. We could be looking at Voldemort swelling his ranks in Britain to as many as two or three thousand Death Eaters once they're marked.”

Harry scowled. “I'm such an idiot, Miles. I should have made the ward to work in either direction, but I was only concerned about keeping Voldemort locked up inside Britain. Now I can't modify the ward without removing the existing one and, frankly, I don't think I want to go through that again.”

Miles scowled, recalling Harry's illness after he'd erected the ward. “Yes, I quite agree.”

“Alright, since we can't stop the flow of men to him, at least for now, let's talk about what we can do,” Harry said evenly.

Miles reached for another piece of parchment. “Well, of the four hundred and twenty families which comprise the Hogwarts student body, we've located three hundred and twenty of them and rescued two hundred and ninety. Thirty families have sided with Voldemort and have been placed on the 'Do Not Rescue' list.

“Our primary concern is finding those missing one hundred families and identifying which of them should be rescued and which shouldn't. Voldemort has set up two camps, which 'troublemakers' are sent to. At first, it seemed as though everyone was getting sent to a camp, but things are starting to settle down in that regard. That, we believe, is partly the result of Lucius Malfoy's influence on Voldemort. He always was a pragmatic bastard,” Miles said, grimacing.

Miles and Harry both looked up as Draco entered.

“I see I'm just in time. What has my illustrious sire done this time?” Draco asked wryly.

Miles motioned him to a seat. “Just. I was telling Harry about our problems locating those last one hundred families.”

Draco scowled. “Yes, well I think we may have a bit of a handle on that, but I need to run over to the school and talk to Professor McGonagall. Some of the elves have mastered tracking for their masters. It was a talent they used to keep an eye on small children. I have five elves that can track people down, assuming that we can provide a personal object that belonged to at least one member of the family.

“If that isn't successful, then we have no choice but to tackle the camps the hard way. The problem with that idea is that, while the elves can maintain an invisibility spell, they are almost as effected as we are by dementors.”

“What about the students of those families being put on the 'Do Not Rescue' list? What are we telling those kids?” asked Harry curiously.

“Minerva and I spoke about that several days ago, Harry. If the student is fifth year or above, Minerva decided to tell them outright. In all instances however, after they got over their shock and anger, the student has disavowed any actions taken by their family. Two seventh year students have gone as far as asking for legal council in regard to breaking all ties to their family. For those younger than fifth year, it was decided not to tell them just yet,” Miles offered.

Harry stood and walked to the map that took up one wall. “Alright, when can we begin searching for the missing one hundred families?”

“I can start by the end of the week, Harry,” Draco said softly. “We still need to find out if we can track them or if we're going to do it the hard way.”

“Good enough, Draco. Thank you for your efforts, and thank your elves for me.”

“Harry,” Miles began, hesitantly. “There is one piece of bad news which I am reluctant to bring up, but I took the liberty of having some of Draco's elves do a quick pop over to see if your relatives were alright.”

Harry stiffened and he turned away from the map to glare at Miles. “I have no relatives alive except for those here in Haven,” he said coldly, though his eyes blazed with anger.

Draco and Miles exchanged a look. Draco shook his head slightly to warn Miles off of the delicate topic. Miles acknowledged the message and continued on with his list of things to talk about.

“Yes, well, according to Amelia, we should see the first American contingent of volunteers, some one hundred trained Aurors, just around the end of this month. Canada has offered another one hundred Aurors, and offers of volunteers from other Commonwealth nations have poured in. Amelia is in talks with several other European countries that are interested in offering help.”

Harry thought for a moment. Most of the countries involved had been appalled by what had happened in Britain and the offer of help came mostly out of fear that it could happen to them as well. It wasn't a noble reason for offering help, but Harry wasn't about to turn them down on some noble principle.

“Miles, we need to start thinking about what we're going to be doing with these volunteers once they arrive here. Some will be bringing their families, adding to our overall population. The numbers don't bother me. What does bother me is what we're going to do with them.” Harry frowned, thinking of the mass of soon to be bored people sitting around Haven with nothing to do. And many of those people would be trained Aurors. He shuddered at the thought. Bored people could quickly cause problems.

Miles' eyes lit up with excitement. “Harry, so far we've been rescuing people, and reacting. We currently have a force of roughly two hundred wizards and witches. With the volunteers coming in, we'll easily double that, and double that again. It will be time for us to stop reacting and start making Voldemort react instead.”

Harry turned back to stare at the large map, all the while thinking furiously about what Miles had said. Finally his eyes came to rest on one section of the map.

“Azkaban,” he breathed.

Miles blinked in surprise then grinned wolfishly. “Aye, an attack on Azkaban and perhaps a mass breakout would be a big blow to him.”

Harry turned away from the map, his eyes gleaming. “Let's get planning for a raid on Azkaban, with the intent to break out as many prisoners as possible,” he said. He paused for a moment, thinking quickly. “Let's plan on a small but very noisy raid on Diagon Alley at the same time.”

Miles jotted down some notes and began to chuckle. “Very good, Harry. A small ruse and a main thrust elsewhere. Draco, Caleb and I will start working up the details. When do you want to launch this raid?”

“We shouldn't be too hasty. I think we should wait until we have some of the volunteer forces here and trained to work with our men,” offered Harry.

“Good enough. We'll get on it,” Miles replied.

A few minutes later, Harry left the office. Looking back just before he closed the door, he grinned. Miles and Draco already had their heads together and were taking notes at a furious pace.



* * *



Hogwarts Castle...

Anthony Edwards was a minor cog in the great war machine wielded by Voldemort. A sergeant with only minor responsibilities, Edwards led his group of ten Death Eaters from their quarters outside of the castle into the Entrance Hall. Voldemort kept the number of people allowed in the castle to a minimum, but somewhere along the line he had absorbed a healthy dose of paranoia. As a result of that paranoia, the castle was routinely patrolled by Death Eaters.

Edwards checked over his men carefully. He had once been caught by Voldemort with one man not wearing his mask and had suffered several agonizingly long minutes under the Cruciatus curse because of it.

Glancing up, he mentally checked his route. He hadn't been a student of Hogwarts, so the idea of the moving staircases was unusual in his mind. When Voldemort had taken over the castle, something had happened that caused most of the castle's magic to drain away, freezing the staircases in place. He had heard the tales of the moving staircases and frankly he was grateful they didn't move anymore.

Edwards led his men upwards into the castle, their patrol route started on the seventh floor and worked its way down to the dungeons before repeating.

“Hey, did you see the new batch of muggle girls they brought in last night? I swear some of them are real lookers,” exclaimed one of the men.

Edwards smiled, hearing that. His men might not be the greatest group of wizards working for the Dark Lord, but they were loyal, and happy to be working for such a great man.

“I can't wait to get my hands on one of them,” said another. “Do you think they'll start passing them out as rewards again, or will we still have to share them?”

Edwards stopped the men on the landing of the fifth floor and motioned for them to be silent. “What is that?” he said quietly, staring up the staircase.

At the top of the landing to the seventh floor was a bright light. It was indistinct at first, but it was slowly resolving itself into a form of a young man with black hair and intense green eyes. Edwards and his men pulled their wands and started up the staircase cautiously.

“That looks like Harry Potter,” one whispered.

Edwards nodded and tightened the grip on his wand. He paused and waited for his group to gather together on the landing of the sixth floor. As soon as the group was together, a small figure appeared and hurled three objects at them.

“Down!” shouted Edwards, and then gave action to his words by diving to the floor. As his men followed him down to the floor, he saw the three objects sail over his head. There was a sound of three muffled reports against the wall. Relieved, Edwards climbed to his feet and scowled at the poltergeist.

“Nasty black cloaks!” shouted Peeves as he floated out over the hall of stairs. “Nasty Wizards, spill your gizzards!”

One of the Death Eaters raised his wand and Edwards pushed it back down. “Don't bother. He's a poltergeist and none of your spells will affect it. The castle also has ghosts and we can't do anything about it because we don't have anyone with a necromancy skill anymore. Our Necromancer died in Potter's attack on the Ministry.”

The men stared at the pesky poltergeist for a minute, then Edwards turned to look at the figure at the top of the landing. From this vantage they could see it was some sort of projection.

Edwards took a single step towards it... and the landing pulled away from the wall. The floor creaked ominously and everyone froze. The upper and lower staircases swung with the landing and Peeves laughter cackled and echoed in the hall.

With a loud cracking sound, both stairways gave way. Edwards and his men screamed as they plummeted the distance from the six floor to the ground. Peeves danced a little jig, then he turned and bowed to the illusion of Harry Potter before running through a nearby wall.

The fall itself probably wouldn't have been fatal, had they not brought the other staircases down with them.

The bottom of the hall exploded in a shower of wood, stone and metal. Mixed in were bits of bone, flesh and blood as several tons of material that had once been the hall of stairs crashed to the ground. A huge plume of dust filled the hallway.

Voldemort himself stepped from his chamber to see what all the noise was about. As the dust slowly cleared, a dreadful silence filled the hall only to be broken by the faint moaning of a Death Eater, whose arm had nearly been severed clean off by flying debris. Voldemort's eyes flared red dangerously and the castle rang with a joyous shout.

“Old Snakeface is quite a disgrace, wizard's gizzards in his face,” shouted Peeves and then he broke into a fit of giggles.

Voldemort hands curled into fists and he flew into a rage, killing the wounded Death Eater. He vowed to put Lucius on to finding him a new Necromancer.



* * *



Padfoot Manor...

It wasn't until late in the day when Remus was finally able to catch up with Emma and Dan. Remus slipped into the room and watched quietly while Hermione gave them their lesson in ancient runes.

“The use of the Ehwaz rune, depending upon its alignment, can either strength or weaken the spell. For example, Ehwaz reversed Kenaz would mean to weaken the power output where an Ehwaz Kenaz would strengthen the power output,” Hermione said, then paused to look at Remus curiously.

“I'm sorry to interrupt, Hermione, however your mother sent me an elf earlier in the day asking for me to see her,” he offered apologetically.

Emma looked confused for a moment, then her expression brightened. “Oh yes! Dan, show Remus your book.”

Dan stared at his wife for a moment, then reluctantly reached into the back pocket of his pants to remove the small book he had made and handed it to her.

“Remus, I remember you and Hermione talking about how you were looking for ways to turn Haven into a profitable venture for Harry. Well, I think I might have find a partial answer to your problem. Or rather, my resourceful husband has,” Emma said proudly.

Dan looked embarrassed and Hermione looked intrigued as Emma waved around the small book. Remus watched the family with thinly veiled amusement. As Emma explained, Dan looked increasingly embarrassed and Hermione was practically bouncing with excitement.

“Think about it, Remus. We can make books like these that can be sold worldwide to students. They're tough, nearly impossible to tear and the plastic is dirt cheap when purchased in quantity,” Emma said in an exuberant tone.

“Why limit it to things used only by students?” asked Hermione, catching her mother's infectious enthusiasm.

Remus took the book from Emma, looked at it and then glanced back at Dan. He then placed the book down on the table, activated a few pages and watched the display carefully. Seeing that Dan had used the spell he'd given him, he then closed the book and ran a few tests on it. “You used the spells I gave you, didn't you, Dan?”

“I did, yes. Your playback spells did exactly what I wanted them to do,” he replied, confirming Remus' suspicions.

Remus walked over a chair and sat down. He stared at Dan intently, clearly gathering his thoughts. “The spells I gave you are great for playing back a memory. They're like an instant Pensieve, but only work on one memory. What I am curious to know is how you took a playback charm and managed to imbue a piece of plastic with it, as well as a specific memory?”

Dan shrugged. “I just used the spells you gave me, Remus. Harry walked me through setting up the first page and helped me form the memory. After I got the first page down, the rest was easy,” he replied in a defensive tone.

Remus looked at Hermione and could see she was now glancing between the book and her father. Then she grinned wildly at her father. Emma's expression matched Dan's. Both were confused and didn't understand why Remus was making a fuss about it.

“Harry,” Hermione said with a grin.

Remus nodded, then turned back to Dan. “I think you've spent so much time around Harry of late that you don't realize how many totally unique things he's capable of doing. Harry could be an enchanter if he wanted to be.”

Seeing Dan and Emma's puzzled expressions, he ran a hand through his tousled hair and thought quickly. “Alright, let's try it this way. You both know that any wizard or witch with sufficient magical strength can make something like a portkey, right?” At their nods, he continued, though more slowly. “What you may not know is that most of us are limited, for the most part, in what spells we can imbue an item with. It's not based on strength or knowledge, it's based purely on a talent one is born with, not learned, much like Nymphadora's metamorphic talent. An enchanter has no such limitation set upon them. They can take any spell and imbue any object with it. It's a rare talent and enchanters are an important part of the Wizarding world.”

Seeing that Dan and Emma now understood the difference, he tried to hide his grin at Hermione's obvious impatience and got on with it before she could interupt.

“There are few ways of adding magic to something. Mixing it with a potion, or sometimes creating it from a potion, is two ways to go about it. The Weasley twins and their famous Canary Cremes is an example of a transfiguration performed using a potion mixed into a candy. Both Fred and George have the ability to also take a regular object and enchant it with a spell. About one in six wizards can enchant objects.”

“I can't, I've tried,” offered Hermione, her disappointment obvious.

“I can't either, Hermione,” replied Remus. “But it was an ability that both James and Sirius had, so I'd invent the spells and they'd do the enchanting.

“Dan here has been working with Harry and Harry helped him do the first enchantments. Neither of them realized just how valuable a skill that really is. It's something to be proud of Dan.”

Remus reached out and picked up the book. “Now, as to the book, I think Emma may be on to something. What we have here is a study aid that could easily be the companion to the regular textbooks. When one considers the number of students there are at any moment we could be looking at selling fifty thousand copies per year internationally. Yes, Emma, I think you were right to tell me about this. I'll speak to Harry about it in the morning. Dan, would you mind if I borrowed the book until tomorrow?”

“Sure, take it, but Harry's already seen it. In fact, it was his suggestion as to how to organize the book and put it together.”

Remus grinned. “I think we can run with this. We've been looking for things to help get Haven on it's feet. This will really help.”



* * *



Ballincollig, County Cork, Ireland…

Charlie Weasley slowly opened his eyes again. It was much later than when he was last awake.

“Ah, we're awake again, are we? Tell me Charlie, how are you feeling now?” asked Dumbledore in a kindly fashion.

“Better, Sir. Much better in fact.”

“Excellent,” Dumbledore said, smiling. “You are still weak from your ordeal, but you seem to be recovering quite well. Here, I have taken the liberty of preparing a meal for you. Eat, and afterwards we will talk of things, some good and some not.”

Charlie took the offered platter of food and hungrily tore into it. As he ate, he tried to remember why Dumbledore had been separated from the Order, the school and his family. There had been rumors of a disgrace, of attacks and several deaths at the school, but those had been mostly rumors. Both his father and Bill had written him about Ron, but neither had gone into great detail except to say that Ron had sexually assaulted Hermione Granger and had brought great shame upon the Weasley name. Mum's letter about the matter was disjointed and didn't make much sense. She apparently placed all of the blame upon Hermione and said she had ensnared Harry Potter under her spell.

That didn't make much sense to Charlie, but he had to admit to himself that he didn't know Hermione all that well. He had met her during Harry's first task at the Tri-Wizard tournament and a few times afterwards. She seemed like a nice enough girl at the time. One thing from both his parents letters had been clear on one subject. Dumbledore had tried to defend Ron at his hearing, while Hermione and Harry were on the prosecuting side.

Charlie sighed as he ate. He finally had to concede to the idea that he simply didn't have enough information and the fact that his family had always trusted and respected Dumbledore weighed heavily in his favor.

“Professor? Just what is going on?”

Dumbledore smiled gently down at Charlie and took a seat nearby. “Now that is good question. Let me see if I can put it in proper perspective for you.

“During the summer, when Harry Potter went missing, I have reason to believe that he fell under an evil influence. During the school year, he deliberately orchestrated a series of character attacks on myself and others, which resulted in massive changes occurring at Hogwarts. I believe that Harry truly believes he is doing the right thing, but he is being led by the Brotherhood of Druidic Knights, a dangerous Wizarding society. Furthermore, I'm not sure the Brotherhood still adheres to it's ancient and noble ideals, since Harry has surrounded himself with people known to be supporting dark arts. For example, one of his principle advisers is none other than Narcissa Malfoy and her son, Draco.

“There are other people close to Harry who have corrupted him further. And I think what we're looking at is a separate organization from Voldemort's. Considering the changes that Harry has undergone, I would not even rule out some form of mind control being used on him. Perhaps even a Liquid Imperius curse.”

Charlie struggled to consider the idea that Dumbledore had presented him with. He found it hard to believe that Harry would turn dark, and yet... Narcissa and Draco Malfoy? The Malfoy's had always skirted around the edge of being dark, at least legally, and they had a ruthless reputation. It wasn't an impossible concept that Narcissa was somehow controlling Harry Potter and his friends.

When Charlie yawned and leaned back against the pillows on his bed, Dumbledore smiled gently at him. “You must rest. Another day, perhaps two, and you will be recovered. For now, rest, think about what I have said and we will discuss it more when you are more awake.”

Charlie nodded and closed his eyes. Tomorrow would come soon enough and he and Dumbledore would be able to figure out what to do.



* * *



Draco reinvents Q Branch, morning of May 10th...

Draco trudged up stairs to the ground level of the Operations Center. Training with the elves had been progressing rather well and they were working with Caleb's Auror forces very well. But he wasn't satisfied. The problem was a simple one, the extraction teams, and his elves, needed equipment that didn't exist. Draco knew enough to recognize that fact, but he lacked the ability to do anything about it.

Stepping out of the Operations Center, he blinked in the bright light and considered whether to run over to the school and have lunch with Luna or head back to the manor house and have lunch with his Mum. Narcissa had been put on the late night shift as a healer trainee at the hospital and she was usually awake by noon to meet with him for lunch.

Opting to take lunch with his mum, he set off down the narrow path towards the manor house. He hadn't gone very far when he heard the sound of heavy footsteps coming up behind him. Turning, he was startled to see the trees on the path being shoved aside and a large ogre striding up the path with a heavy club over his shoulder. Draco squeaked in surprise and the ogre stopped and stared at him.

“Draco tasty!” bellowed the ogre and it unlimbered the club and stepped forward.

Draco took off at a dead run in the opposite direction as fast as his feet would carry him. He was more than halfway to the manor house and ready to start shouting to everyone that a ogre was coming when it dawned on him that the ogre hadn't followed him. The second clue was the fact that a non-speaking creature like an ogre not only knew his name, but clearly spoke it. Skidding to a halt, he turned and faced the direction from which he had came. He could clearly hear the laughing in the distance. Frowning, he started towards the sounds of the laughter, then he paused and cast a disillusion spell on himself. Training with the Aurors of the extraction force and his elves had managed to teach him a few things about stealth that Slytherin house hadn't.

Sneaking up on the sound of laughter he was confronted with two sets of twins, one red-headed and the other blond. The other curious matter was the floating ring which seemed to be displaying what the Ogre would have seen.

“Find another person, Georgie!” said one of the blonds.

“Yes Georgie, do find another,” teased the other red head, obviously Fred.

Intrigued, Draco changed his mind about stunning them all and hanging them by their toes in the nearest tree. Instead, he watched as George began to move around and noticed that the movements within the ring echoed George's movements. Dispelling the illusion charm, he stepped out from behind a tree and cast a cannon blast spell. The loud explosive sound knocked Fred off his feet and George collided with the two blonds. All three fell in a heap.

“Hello ladies and gentlemen,” Draco said with a wry smirk.

“Merlin, Draco! Are you trying to give us heart attacks?” whined Fred.

“Well, if you two weren't playing around scaring people, I wouldn't have to return the favor, now would I?” asked Draco, offering Helga a hand up.

“He does have a point, brother mine,” said George.

“Oh, I know he does. I just refuse to admit it.” replied Fred.

Draco sighed in frustration. “Can you guys at least pretend to be serious for a moment? You two have more inventive talent in your little finger than any ten wizards I know and you're wasting it on jokes.”

Fred straightened to his full height, which was a good three inches over Draco. “Wasting? I will have you know we've been inventing stuff...”

“Yes! Thats my point, George!” exclaimed Draco.

Fred looked insulted. “Wait a tic! I'm Fred! He's George,” he said pointing at his twin.

George looked up from one of the blonds he was holding. “I am? Oh, wait, that's right. It's an even day. That makes me George today.”

Draco grabbed his head and pulled hard on his hair. “ENOUGH!” he bellowed and both sets of twins recoiled from him. “There are teams that go out every night putting their lives on the line, and they need equipment to make their job easier. You two,” he said, jabbing a finger at the now subdued pair, “have the know-how and inventiveness. That Ogre, can you make it smaller? Don't you see? You can see what the Ogre saw, probably hear what it hears as well. If you could make the same thing, only instead of an Ogre you used a pixie or a fairy, the extraction teams would have a tool that would allow them to explore an area safely! They need so much and you two are playing games!”

Fred glanced over at George and the two communicated silently for a moment. “Draco, it's not like we don't want to help,” said George.

“But Miles told us to leave the dangerous work to the professionals,” finished Fred sadly.

Draco folded his arms across his chest. “Yes, he's right, you two aren't trained for the extraction teams. I'm training with them now and it will be months before I'm good enough to go along. But Miles is wrong, you two have uses right now.”

“What about us?” protested one of the blonds.

Draco looked surprised. He was only vaguely familiar with the two girls and barely knew their names.

Fred grinned broadly. “Inga's right. They'd be dead useful, even if they aren't witches.”

“I'm Helga, not Inga,” protested Helga annoyed that Fred would think she was her sister. Inga, Fred's girlfriend smacked Fred on the arm. “Stop thinking she's me!” she pouted.

Fred looked to George for support, but George knew better. Instead he suddenly found some overhead clouds extremely interesting.

Draco ground his teeth in frustration. “Fine! Look, you four, I'm in charge of providing support services to Miles and his people. As of this moment, you are going to be put to work inventing the equipment the teams need. I'll speak to Harry about it and get his approval.”

The four twins grinned broadly at Draco and he knew he was opening a major can of worms, but he also knew the Weasley twins were the most dangerous pranksters on the planet. If the Johansen twins were half as good on the muggle side, the quartet would be truly formidable.



* * *



Derreenataggart West, Evening of May 10th...

Harry stepped into the grand foyer of the manor and looked over his friends. He tried to suppress the chuckle that threatened to escape. Each was dressed as if they were going on a winter trek, knowing full well that once they arrived at Derreenataggart they would be getting naked.

Beside the core group who'd be participating in tonight's ritual, Minerva, Narcissa, Bertrand, Amelia and Arthur had been asked to attend as observers. Harry had approached each in turn and explained the rite and its requirements. He felt it was necessary to include the parents wherever possible. Terry's parents had decided that since Amelia was attending it wasn't necessary for them to attend as well. Harry accepted that. He knew that Terry's mum, a witch, was settling in nicely at Haven, but his father, a muggle engineer, was having difficulty immersing himself into a mostly Wizarding town. It was an issue that Harry knew he would have to address at some point, Terry's dad wasn't the only muggle in Haven.

Right now they were getting ready to portkey to Derreenataggart. There was still several hours before the appointed time, but he wanted to give people time to get used to the area. Nodding to everyone, he grabbed a hold of the hula hoop that Remus offered and motioned for the others to do the same. Tonks had the second hoop to keep the crowding to a minimum.

Hermione smiled shyly at Harry when she stepped to his side and grabbed onto the portkey. He was about to say something when the foyer vanished. A moment later they appeared in a large tented pavilion. Harry waited until every one had appeared before walking to the front of the tent.

“Everyone please, give me a moment of your time,” Harry said, holding up a hand. He waited a few moments as everyone turned to face him before continuing.

“We are two hours ahead of schedule. The rite begins at midnight. We arrived early so that everyone could take some time to examine the circle and get used to the area. We are currently in a field left fallow. Next to it is a farmers field and the two are separated by a fence that has been charmed with a notice-me-not spell, so I do not expect any difficulty with the farmer, unless you cross that fence. Do us all a favor, leave the poor man's crop alone and stay on this side of the fence. Also, for our protection, the Irish Ministry had graciously provided us with an Auror security detail. Please do not bother them. Now, if everyone will follow Remus, he will take us out to the circle, where you will be allowed to roam about for the next hour and a half.”

Stepping from the pavilion, Remus led the group towards the circle. It sat upon a small knoll and was ancient, with only eight of the stones still standing. Two others, toppled over, lay nearby and another two were missing entirely. The axial and portal stones were on a east/west axis. Unlike the other stones, the portal stone was wider and taller.

From the stone circle one could look out and see the Atlantic Ocean. Even though it was well after dark, it was possible to look out from the circle and see shipping traffic making its way to nearby port cities.

Hermione looked at the circle with an intense curiosity. She had read about these circles, and read some of the conjecture as well. Some thought that the circles were actually an ancient form of Wizarding transportation. The portal stones seemed to suggest that was the case, but the problem with that theory was most circles were active only under specific astronomical conditions. To be used as a transportation system would mean the circle would have had to be active all the time. And everyone knew that wasn't the case. The circles are too tied to the astronomical calendar.

Suddenly Harry squeezed her hand painfully. “Look! That building is moving, Hermione!” he exclaimed. Dan, who was standing behind him, chuckled. Hermione looked at the bright lights in the distance and frowned for a moment until she realized what it was.

“Harry,” Emma said gently, “that's not a building. That's a ship, probably a cruise ship, considering its size and the way it's lit up.”

Harry looked startled. “We're that close to the ocean? Bloody hell, Remus should have told me! I would have come here earlier then.”

“Why Harry?” asked Hermione. His reaction puzzled her.

“I've never been to the ocean before,” he replied in an awed whisper.

Hermione frowned. She and her mother exchanged a glance. Harry had been deprived of so many experiences they took for granted. Dan clapped a hand down on Harry's shoulder and he looked up at him.

“Later in the summer I'm going to insist we all take some time off. Emma and I know a place in the south of France that we can take you to, where you can get your fill of the ocean,” Dan offered. Harry smiled shyly, looking like a five year old who'd just been offered a lap by Father Christmas.

Hermione tugged on his hand. “Come on, Harry, let's take a closer look at the circle. You won't be able to see much of the ocean in the dark. We'll come back here when it's light.”

Harry nodded and let Hermione lead him back into the circle.

Dan and Emma watched the two wander away. “You know,” Emma said in a sad voice, “I always thought I would find great fulfillment in helping my grandchildren experience new things. I never thought I'd start early with my future son in law.”

“Emma...” Dan admonished.

“I know, I know, Dan. It's just that these little slips he makes, like never having gone to the ocean, it tears at me and I know it tears at Hermione...”

Dan closed the distance between himself and his wife and took her into his arms. “Em, don't you worry about Harry. Hermione will take good care of him and we'll help her. He's never been to the ocean before, or the mountains, and yes, I asked him about them a few days ago. He is working hard to put his past behind him and we'll help him. But we can't help him if we keep stopping to lament over what he's never had.

“It's way to early to think about grandchildren, but you're right. We're going to help Harry experience things he's never experienced before. He's a little old to cuddle and hand over to a pile of puppies for the fun of it... Well, maybe Hermione can do the cuddling for us,” he concluded with a chuckle.

Near the portal stone, Harry and Hermione looked in Dan and Emma's direction and grinned. “That looks interesting,” Harry murmured. “Must be the idea of her getting naked,” he joked.

“Harry!” Hermione said, swatting his arm. Privately she had to agree, however. Her parents hadn't been the type to display a lot of public affection towards each other. You knew they were in love by how they acted, without all the public displays. It was, in Hermione's opinion, something she thought she would have wanted for herself, but Harry had other ideas. Harry wasn't into extreme displays of public affection either, but he was always close enough that he could reach out and touch her hand, and he did so, frequently. And every so often he'd shock her by being more overt. And privately Harry was surprisingly affectionate with her.

Hermione turned to look at Harry. His gaze was fixed on the portal stone, but it was unfocused.

“What is it? What do you see?” she asked him, her tone tinged with worry.

“The stone,” he murmured, “it's radiating power. It feels like I'm looking at something that can look into my very soul and see every flaw and every stain... and yet it feels caged, trapped within the stone. The whole circle is infused with power, but this stone the most of all.”

“Will this be a problem?”

“I don't think so, Hermione. We came here to awaken something. Perhaps what I'm seeing is the aura of what we're going to awaken.”



* * *



Ginny and Neville...

Not far from where Harry and Hermione stood, another couple faced a different issue.

“Look at it, Ginny. It's the Celtic range flower! They're very rare and only grow at sites that are considered sacred...”

Ginny placed both hands on her hips and stared at her boyfriend. Sometimes he could be so dense! “Neville, forget the flowers for a moment. I want to talk to you.”

Neville looked up from the flower he was holding in his hand. “Hmmmm?”

“I know we've talked about this, Neville, but I want you to keep your eyes where they belong tonight.”

“Ginny, you know I've only got eyes for you,” Neville said bashfully.

“Yeah, well, tonight you won't have just me to look at.” she grumbled.

“We're not going to have that tired old argument again are we?”

Ginny looked down at her feet. For the most part she directed the way their relationship ran, but every so often she would say something or do something and Neville would take charge, putting her firmly in her place.

Neville reached down and cupped her chin, pulling gently until she was looking at him. “Ginny, for every couple here, each guy would say their girl is the most beautiful. I'm no different. You hate your red hair and your freckles, I love each and every freckle and, if I have to, I'll spend the rest of my life telling you that. Maybe someday you'll believe me,” he told her firmly.

Ginny's eyes misted and Neville pulled her into a tight embrace. He held her firmly, the flower long forgotten.



* * *



Draco and Luna...

Of all the couples present tonight, Draco and Luna were perhaps the one least worried by the upcoming ritual. The soul bonding Luna had performed to save Draco's life was firmly in place and it served to re-enforce their feelings for each other. The bond was serving another, equally important purpose. It was allowing Luna to become more focused on everyday events without the spacey feeling she previously imparted to everyone.

Luna nudged Draco, motioning him to look at Ginny and Neville, who were embracing. “In a way, I almost feel sorry for our friends, Dray...” Luna said softly.

Draco looked at Luna in surprise. As long as he had known her, she had never had anything bad to say about anyone.

“What do you mean?”

“Look at Ginny and Neville. They are so much in love, and yet are so insecure about it.”

Draco smiled gently at her. “Not everyone has the advantages we have, Luna. I know how you feel, even when you're going to sleep in the school and I'm kilometers away in the manor. I can feel you through our bond.”

“I know, Dray. But look at Harry and Hermione. They're so close to having something like what we have, but they can't seem to take that extra step. Something is scaring them.”

“Could they have a bond like ours? Your magic created our bond and, from what I've read, it's very unique in all of the magical world.” Draco asked.

“Harry and Hermione could,” Luna replied softly. “His ability to manipulate auras is very similar to what my magic did. What is an aura, but the light generated by the soul? My magic mixed our souls, beloved. Harry could do the same thing by linking his aura with Hermione's.”

“Have you spoken to Harry or Hermione about this?”

Luna frowned. “I would like to, but I'm not sure it's my place to bring this to their attention. Should I get involved? He's touched her aura a few times and each time it's excited her, and frightened him.”

Draco scowled and marched over to a nearby standing stone, thinking furiously. Finally he turned and walked back to her. “I don't know, Luna. I think you're right to be cautious but, on the other hand, if you had some material to back up your idea, you could show it to Hermione. She could take it from there.”

Luna smiled. “She would, wouldn't she? That girl has two loves in life. Harry, and learning, and she's in seventh heaven when she can combine the two of them.”

Draco lightly gripped her arm and motioned her attention back towards the pavilion where Remus was signaling everyone to come back.

Upon re-entering the pavilion, everyone noticed that while they had been gone the interior of the tent had been changed. There were now twelve small rooms and one large central area, where Remus now stood to address them.

“Folks,” he said, having gotten their attention, “I know we talked about this, but I wanted to let you know we've taken a few precautions. While we can't do anything inside of the circle, I have placed a set of obscuring charms outside of the circle that will make it impossible for anyone to see inside of it. Those of us inside the circle will appear fuzzy and indistinct to those outside.

Now, since I am the only one here who speaks Gaelic well enough, I will be casting a translation charm on everyone present so that you will understand what I'm saying. Follow my lead and remember the incantations we discussed. You know the English version and, with the translation spell in place, you will incant in modern Gaelic. The rite is in Gaelic and while we could possibly try it in English, we have no guarantee that it would work.

“Finally, you'll note we have twelve rooms here in the pavilion. In each room you will find a simple white robe. Change out of your clothes into the robe. Remove all your clothing and jewelry. Once everyone is changed, we will proceed from the pavilion to the circle. Once inside, I will signal for everyone to disrobe, then I will begin the rite.

“We don't know what to expect, so don't let anything startle you into rash action, like leaving the circle,” Remus concluded warningly.

When everyone nodded their understanding, he smiled. “Good enough. Let's go get into our robes, shall we?” he asked with a wry grin.



* * *



The Stone Circle of Derreenataggart...

Harry stepped into the circle and positioned himself near the portal stone. He had read the auras of the stones in the past hour and knew this stone was probably the source of the greatest potential danger. Being close to it allowed him to watch and possibly shield the rest should a problem arise.

Only eight of the original stones were still standing. Two more had fallen and two were missing entirely from the circle, but their psychic imprint remained strong in the circle. Stones might be missing, but the power was unbroken. Remus had marked standing positions carefully, taking into account the missing stones. Hermione was to Harry's right, and her parents were on his left.

As everyone formed a circle within the circle, Remus stepped into the center of the group. Once, a long time ago, an altar stone would have been situated at the center of the circle. Now Remus stood where that ancient stone had once been.

Remus looked around and nodded to himself, seeing everyone was in the right position. From outside the circle he heard Amelia call. “Two minutes to midnight, Remus!”

Taking a deep breath, he opened his robe and let it slip from his shoulders to the ground. Remus then eyed everyone in the circle as, one by one, they dropped their robes. Harry cringed slightly as his robe fell to the ground and Hermione reached out and touched his hand. He looked over at her and she smiled impishly at him like she had yesterday and he couldn't help but remember where that smile had led to. Everyone was looking at their partner or refusing to make eye contact with anyone except Remus.

Remus held his wand aloft and he traced an intricate series of movements in the air. The burning tip of his wand etching the air with fiery runes in its wake. He traced four distinct patterns of runes, one for each of the four cardinal compass points, then he stopped and traced a single rune over his head. Once that rune was complete, it exploded with a golden brilliance and a dome of light grew to encompass the entire stone circle.

Amelia Bones exclaimed in dismay as the golden dome burst forth and quickly turned opaque. The circle and those on the inside were now totally isolated from everyone else.

Within the golden dome, Remus lifted his wand again and said an incantation. From the tip of his wand a small golden ball emerged to float. He then turned to nod at Harry.

Harry lifted his staff and repeated the incantation. This time a much larger ball emerged and moved to join with Remus'. The two merged into one large orb.

When Harry was finished, Hermione lifted her staff. She had opted to use her staff tonight since it was ideal for working a ritual, where fine control was important. Her orb was about half the size of Harry's. One by one the outcasts, Hermione's parents and Tonks added their orbs to the now huge ball floating above Remus' head.

With the orb now complete, Remus made a motion to start the final sequence of the ritual when three voices cried as one.

“HOLD!”

Remus tore his eyes away from the huge glowing ball hovering over his head and looked at the people assembled. Harry, Tonks and Luna were all glowing, surrounded by a soft nimbus of bluish-white light. All three had a glazed look in their eyes. As one, they stepped into the center of the circle. Harry placed a hand lightly on Remus' shoulder and Remus found himself flung from the center. Draco and Neville managed to catch him before he could crash into the dome surrounding them all.

Harry lifted his staff to the hovering orb and his nimbus flared around him. “Eocho mac Tairdelbaig, son of Aonghas and Ceana, I, Harry, son of James and Lily, Magic's child, command thee to awaken. Thy time hath come!” he cried in a loud voice.

Harry took one step back and Luna took his place. “Eocho mac Tairdelbaig, son of Aonghas and Ceana, I, Luna, daughter of Bertrand and Vespa, Gaia's child, command thee to awaken. Thy time hath come!”

Then Luna stepped back and Tonks took her place. “Eocho mac Tairdelbaig, son of Aonghas and Ceana, I, Nymphadora, daughter of Theodore and Andromeda, Changling's child, command thee to awaken. Thy time hath come!”

The others shared a concerned look at this strange turn of events. The ritual had somehow gotten out of their control and three of their members were under an unknown influence. Hermione raised her wand to interfere.

“No!” hissed Remus. “We have started this, it must be played out!”

She reluctantly lowered her wand and watched as Tonks stepped back. Harry extended his staff upwards, Luna and Tonks did the same. They touched the points of their wands and staff together and the hovering orb roiled as if it had become liquid. A moment later came a tearing sound from the orb as it moved to the portal stone. It seemed to suddenly deflate as it connected and poured its energy into the stone.

As the orb deflated, the portal stone began to glow and a dense mist roiled from its surface. Within the mist came flares of light, as if hundreds of fireflies were trying to light the night. Even the golden light of the dome dimmed as the mist filled the circle.

The sparkling lights danced across the surface of the stone, then moved out to fill the entire circle. Everyone present felt an uplifting of their spirits as the dancing lights filled the dome. The surface of the portal stone bulged oddly and the lights on its surface increased their speed. As the lights moved, everyone moved out of their position to stand behind Harry, Luna and Tonks. Whatever had taken control of the ritual was not finished with their friends just yet.

Hermione gnawed at one fingernail with worry as she watched her fiancée stand before the portal stone.

“Who awakens me from my slumber?” said a voice with a strange echo.

Harry, Luna and Tonks bowed at the sound of the voice and Harry stepped forward. “We summon you, Eocho mac Tairdelbaig. Darkness stalks the realm and thy brotherhood must return to its ancient task.”

“Old blood and older magic I sense among you and your companions. Approach, one at a time, and announce thyself so that I may know thee.”

Harry walked to Hermione and took her hand. She could see that whatever the controlling force was that had taken over Harry was more in the nature of guiding him than controlling him. He pulled her hand to his lips and kissed her softly, then smiled shyly at her. She let him lead her to the portal stone. There, Harry stopped and placed one hand flat upon the stone.

“I am Harry, son of James and Lily, of the house of Potter. I stand before you with my chosen, asking for guidance,” he intoned in a formal tone, then he looked at Hermione meaningfully.

Placing her hand upon the stone, she spoke next, using the same form as Harry had. “I am Hermione, daughter of Dan and Emma, of the house of Granger. I stand before you with my chosen, asking for guidance.”

Hermione gasped as she felt another presence in her mind. This was unlike her experience with Harry during their legilimency training, or even when he touched her aura with his own. This presence was commanding, firm and unyielding, but not hostile. The presence paged through her memories, from her growing up as a muggle to her discovery that she was a witch. She saw flashes of her life, some events she considered vastly important and others that seemed inconsequential. The troll during her first year, her purchase of Crookshanks. Her impressions as she watched Harry run the maze during his third task of the Tri-Wizard tournament, Dolohov cutting her chest with his curse, and Harry waking up after his illness.

Bemused, she let Harry led her away from the stone allowing Luna and Draco to take their position.

Luna placed her hand upon the stone and spoke. “I am Luna, daughter of Bertrand and Vespa, of the house of Lovegood. I stand before you with my chosen, asking for guidance.”

Draco placed his hand on the stone repeating the phrase and he moaned as if in great pain and fell to his knees. “There be darkness and stain upon this one. Foul deeds and fell events he hath partaken of,” said the voice in an angry tone and a buzzing sound like hundreds of bees emanated from the stone.

Luna lifted her head defiantly and pulled Draco's hand from the stone. “Nonetheless, he is my chosen and has renounced his ways. I have chosen him over others and will cleanse the stain from his soul. The evil upon him was forced their by his sire and not of his choosing.”

There was a moment of silence, then the voice from the stone spoke again. “Very well, child of Gaia. Few wouldst have the ability to cleanse his stain, but thou dost,” the voice said reverently. Then the voice turned harsh. “Draco, of house Malfoy and Black, thou have been found wanting, but I sense the potential within you. Thou can cause great good or great harm. Thou doth stand at a crossroad, one path leads to the light, the other to your doom. Know that I will hold thee to a higher standard than these others. Only thy chosen has stayed my hand this day.”

Draco looked up at the stone, his face contorted by fear and pain, his breath coming in great gasps. Luna knelt and Draco leaned into her. She smiled softly, wrapping her arms around him. Harry stepped up behind the couple and carefully lifted Draco to his feet. He drew a shuddering breath and nodded gratefully to Harry, then they all moved away from the face of the portal stone.

With the way to the stone clear, Tonks and Remus moved forward. Harry watched the pair with considerable worry. If Draco could be held accountable for actions his father forced on him, then who knew what Remus would be held accountable for as a werewolf.

Tonks placed her hand on the stone and repeated the ritual words, then Remus did the same. There was a moment of silence which grew into an uneasy pause. Remus trembled as the spirit rifled through his memories.

“My daughter,” said the voice in a gentle tone, “thou art sure this be thy chosen? He is cruelly afflicted and through no fault of his own, doth harbor a great dark beast within his breast. For nigh unto two score years he hath combated the beast and won, but his strength doth wane and soon the beast must win.”

Tonks grasped Remus' hand, holding it tightly. “He is my chosen and I want no other. His beast is contained and I will give him of my strength to fortify his fight.”

“Very well then. Remus, of house Lupin, place onto me both thy hands,” commanded the voice.

“Long ye have fought to control the beast within thee and long have ye suffered with this affliction which began in thy earliest of years. Changlings child has chosen you as her mate, but even her power cannot rid thee of thy affliction, for such knowledge has been lost in the antiquity of time. Thou art cursed, my child, but have borne thy burden with honor. Darkness dwells within thee, but from a curse to a boon I will turn it,” said the voice.

Remus gave a strangled cry and his entire body burst into a multicolored halo. Collapsing to the ground, he writhed there for what seemed an eternity before the halo faded from sight and he returned to normal.

“Now dost thou control the beast within, Remus of house Lupin. Rise and stand like a man among thy family.”

Tonks bent over and pulled Remus to his feet. The former marauder followed her to stand next to Luna and Draco, his expression was a mixture of relief and wonder. Harry watched the pair curiously, sure that Remus would have a tale to tell when this night was done.

The next couple to approach the stone were Hermione's parents, Dan and Emma. Emma placed her hand on the stone copying the motions of the others. A moment later, Dan copied her motions and the two stood silently in-front of the portal stone. In some ways, the process reminded Harry of the Hogwarts sorting hat with its strange mixture of verbal and mental communication.

Once all the couples had communed with the stone, the lights dancing across its surface began to speed up again.

“A strange and diverse group thou art, and yet all here are bound to a common purpose. Prophecy lights thy path but denies thee the tools to complete thy tasks. All presented are worthy, even the dark stained one who bears the protection of Gaia's child and Magic's child.

“This is the time that was foretold many eons ago. Prophecy and Brotherhood merge to face a fell foe,” said the voice from the stone. Then the surface of the Portal stone began to bulge outwards. As one, each person within the circle grasped their upper arm as they felt a burning sensation. The stone bulged more, then the bulge rebounded back into the stone. The surface rippled as if made of water and out of the stone stepped a figure. The golden dome that covered the circle exploded outwards in a great flash of light and a howling wind whipped away the mist.

The figure stood nearly two meters tall, with long white hair, a neatly trimmed beard and, most surprisingly, he was translucent. He raised both hands upwards as if in prayer and the golden dome that surrounded the stone circle vanished from sight. “Math Mathonwy, Teutates, Cailleach Beara and Danu

I call on thee, Gods of old! The conditions are met. The Brotherhood reborn. Bless our rebirth and help our children find their way out of darkness!” he cried in a vast voice.

High above the stone circle a meteor appeared and plummeted to earth. Spitting sparks and flame the meteor appeared to slow and change its course until it finally came to a stand still only a few meters above the stone circle. The molten stone hovered for a moment longer then gently lowered itself until it floated between the figure's arms.

“I, Eocho mac Tairdelbaig, invoke the Brotherhood as mentor,” said Eocho. The stone seemed to split into twelve equal parts and each part moved to hover in front of each person.

Harry reached with his hand and grasped the glowing stone expecting his hand to burn with its heat, but the stone was strangely cool in his hand. The stone flashed white and then vanished, leaving him holding a medallion on a heavy chain.

Eocho nodded at Harry in approval, while the others, encouraged by his results, did the same.

“Each of thee now bares the mark of the Brotherhood. No matter what family thou had before, all present are family, now and forever. In thy hands dost thou hold the badge of office. Thou hast, each of thee, asked for guidance, and guidance I shall provide. I am Eocho, mentor. Grasp thy badge and but think of me when thou hast need and I shall come,” said the figure of Eocho and then he slowly faded from view.

Harry felt strangely calm, as if the rite had left him a profound sense of peace. He lifted the badge and placed it around his neck, then he bent over and scooped up his and Hermione's robes. He handed her the robe and before she could even think about putting it on, he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close to him. He kissed her neck gently and she moaned slightly in his ear. He released her to put his own robe on, knowing that she had felt his stiffening arousal and he had no intention of letting anyone else know. He turned to see each couple had been similarly moved with their own partners and he smiled.

“Merlin's beard!” exclaimed Remus as he released Tonks and put on his robe. “Did you feel the power?”

Harry pulled his badge out from under his robe and examined it. It was a simple Celtic cross overlaid atop a Celtic knot. It was made of metal, despite having come from what was obviously stone and it had a silvery sheen to it, as if it were lit with an inner light. The back of the badge contained a single rune.

“I'm not entirely sure, but I think it would be best if we didn't remove these medallions,” he said in a low tone. “There is more magic in them than would be needed for a summoning charm.”

Hermione looked over at Harry's medallion after examining her own. “The rune is different between Harry and myself and I don't recognize it.”

Remus looked at his medallion and then glanced over to look at Harry's. “The rune on mine is different also. Mine looks like Ansuz, but it's different, not the same.”

“I think the next step would be to put together a list of questions for Eocho,” suggested Hermione.

“Tomorrow,” Harry said firmly. “It's late and I think we all could use with some sleep. We started something tonight and I'm sure we all have a lot of questions about what is going to happen next. I just don't think we'll get answers to those questions tonight. When we get back to the manor, I'll ask Dobby to prepare a mid morning brunch. I think we can all do with a bit of a lie in this morning.”

Remus nodded and pointed to the pavilion not far from the stone circle. “We can use the portkeys we used to get here to go home. I'll go talk to Amelia and let her know we're all all right, though tired, then we can leave.”

Harry laid his arm over Hermione's shoulders as they walked to the pavilion. She leaned into him. “I don't know if I want to get dressed just to go home and get undressed again,” she murmured against him.

“Are you that tired?” Harry asked her.

“No, I just don't want to have to spend all that time dressing and undressing. You have something I want very much tonight, Potter,” she said with a grin.

He tightened his grip on her and ducked his head as they entered the tent.





* * *



Ballincollig, County Cork, Ireland (May 11th)…

Dumbledore woke in a foul mood. The previous night his detectors had lit up like sky rockets, wakening him from a sound sleep and wakening Charlie Weasley. The detectors were crude and could only say that the magic was definitely from Harry Potter and that it was coming from the area around Castletown, on the coast. He attempted to apparate to the location immediately, but the published coordinates for the town were closed off by Irish Ministry Anti-Apparation wards.

Only Ministries used wards that sent people polite messages that stated an area was closed off until further notice after you'd bounced off them. They thought it rude not to do so, while the person apparating usually thought it rude to be thrown back to their destination point so firmly. Private wards would have kicked him out and left no message at all in his head. Making a portkey was out of the question, since he had never visited the town and could not visualize the arrival location.

To make matters worse, the noise of the detectors had awoken Charlie Weasley and he had to spend time calming down the irate red head. So it was with no small amount of annoyance that Dumbledore awoke this morning in a less than jovial mood. On the other hand, Charlie had recovered enough that Dumbledore woke to find him busy cooking breakfast.

“Good morning, Mr. Weasley,” offered the old wizard as he entered the room.

“Good morning, Professor,” Charlie replied, placing a platter of eggs and sausage on the table. “I hope you don't mind me making breakfast for us? I thought with what happened last night you might want to get a early start on checking out that disturbance.”

Dumbledore filled his plate and smiled. “Not at all, Charles, and you are quite right. If we cannot apparate to Castletown this morning, we will have to do it the old fashioned way and travel there as muggles do.”

Charlie looked up sharply at that comment and tried to hide a smile. No matter how hard Molly had tried, Arthur had managed to instill a fondness for all things muggle in his children. They didn't obsess over it like their father did, but they still enjoyed visiting the muggle world now and then.

Dumbledore peered over his half moon glasses at Charlie. “How are you feeling this morning? Do you think you could stand a trip?” he asked in a jovial tone.

“Professor, I know I make a poor patient and I'm itching to get out and about. My family is in danger and I need to do something about it.”

Dumbledore chuckled. “You will my boy, you will. And I daresay your family will be grateful, once they learn of what you've been doing. Now, let us get ready to go visit Castletown and see if we can discover why Mr. Potter was using so much magic last night.”

Charlie nodded, then paused. “Professor, how do you think Malfoy is controlling Harry? Ginny wrote me one time saying Harry could throw off an Imperio us curse.”

Dumbledore paused and thought frantically for a second. “There are a number of possibilities, my boy. He could be coerced into performing for them via some sort of curse on a loved one. That's a possibility which I think is likely. However, my heart fears that they may have used a liquid Imperius. And if that is the case, only another dose will overcome the first.”

Charlie looked shocked. “B-B-But that would destroy his free will entirely!”

Dumbledore sagged his shoulders as if he were defeated and nodded his head sadly. “Yes, I am aware of the damage it will do to Mr. Potter. Let us hope it will not come to that, however.”

Charlie walked over and placed a comforting hand on the old man's shoulders. “It will be alright, Professor, you'll see,” he offered encouragingly.

Dumbledore shook himself and privately congratulated himself on his acting skills. “Come, young Charles. Let us go see what we can find out.”



* * *



Padfoot Manor...

Harry took another helping of eggs from a platter on the table. He smiled as he listened to Hermione and Remus debate over the questions they should be asking Eocho. The two had started wrangling over the issue as soon as he and Hermione arrived at the table and hadn't stopped. On the other hand, their argument meant that the rest of them could eat in peace.

Harry coughed loudly to catch everyone's attention. Looking unsure of himself, he had one question he had to ask. “Who here feels different this morning?”

Dan looked up from his plate. “I'm glad I'm not the only one noticing the change,” he murmured. Emma glanced at him in surprise.

“What? I did ask you about it before we came down to brunch. You said you didn't notice anything, but I'm telling you, something has changed,” Dan said firmly.

“I felt it also, Harry. When I woke up I tried performing a simple levitation spell on a quill. You remember, like we did in Flitwick's class in first year? I'd swear I was able to force the feather to float just by levitating the tip of the quill instead of the whole thing,” Neville said fervently.

“Yes!” exclaimed Dan, “It's like we've been focused.”

Harry leaned back in his chair thinking for a moment. “I felt that also, although I haven't tested my magic this morning. But that wasn't what I was asking. After the ritual I felt a kind of peace. Always before, when I thought about Voldemort, I felt anger. It was frightening just how much anger I felt. I still feel the determination to take care of Voldemort, but its like the anger is controllable now.”

“I think we all came away from the ritual with changes like that Harry,” offered Remus.

Harry turned to his old friend. “And what of you, Remus? Eocho said some rather startling things to you yesterday.”

“I'm not sure,” Remus replied, a bit worried. “I can still feel the Lycanthropy within me, but it feels different somehow. It's almost as if I now have control over it, rather than the other way around.”

Luna laughed and everyone turned to look at her in surprise. She didn't often interject herself into these conversations.

“What's funny, Luna?” asked Harry.

“Remus,” she said with a smile. “He's no longer a werewolf, he's a were-animagus.”

Remus flinched back in his chair, his expression thunderstruck. “A were-animagus? Is that even possible?”

“Oh, Remus, of course it's possible. Eocho's coming caused the birth of many new species last night. I can't wait to see the Golden Ostaphant up close. They're supposed to be larger than a sperm whale. If that kind of magic can cause the start of new species, it can certainly fix one tired old werewolf,” Luna said dreamily.

Remus looked as if he wasn't sure whether to be insulted over the “old” comment or not. Tonks, on the other hand, simply slid under the table, weak from laughter. Emma tried to hide her smile behind her cup, while Dan and Harry laughed openly. Remus growled in his throat and glared at Harry. Unfortunately for him, his glare of death no longer worked properly.

When the laughter finally died down, Harry rapped on the table. “Alright, I suspect over the coming days each one of us is going to be meeting with Eocho privately. I'm not sure if he can appear on his own, or if he has to be summoned. But for now, why don't I summon him and we can see about getting started?”

Looking around the room and finding no objections, he pulled the medallion from under his shirt and held it in his hand. Concentrating on Eocho, he waited. Barely seconds passed before a form coalesced at the head of the table.

Harry looked at the figure carefully. He noted the ancient robes he wore, his feet bare.

“Who summons me?”

Harry stood and walked to the head of the table. “I did, Múinteoir,” Harry said respectfully.

“What is it you wish of me, Maglios?”

Harry looked perplexed. “I'm sorry. Maglios?”

Eocho looked at Harry sadly, then he surprised everyone by speaking in modern English. “Has so much of our old ways been lost then? You are Maglios, leader and warrior king to your people.”

Harry blinked in surprise and Eocho smiled in return. “Sit and listen, my children. Learn the history of our Brotherhood.”

Harry took his placed next to Hermione at the table.

“Long ago, in a time when men were cruel and oppressed even their own brothers, there arose a king. King Mag was a stranger to this land, born of a woman not of the people, but of the captured concubine of his father. Mag's rule, unlike his neighbors, was a gentle hand and his land prospered because of it.

“Eventually other kingdoms looked upon King Mag with jealousy. An alliance between three neighboring kingdoms resulted in the downfall of Mag's kingdom and with his dying breath he did curse those that would conquer his people. Mag's son, Arthimus, fled our shores and traveled far and wide learning all that was good, and all that was bad, about man. He traveled into the east and learned from the masters of lore. As he traveled, he gathered his allies. Arthimus, with his mate, Chysta, formed the core of the Brotherhood. Around them they gathered many who would follow them and abide by new laws, laws originally created by King Mag.

“In honor of King Mag, the leader of the Brotherhood is always called the Maglios. Eventually, Arthimus and Chysta returned to Mag's kingdom and freed his people from the oppression of the neighboring kings.

“As Arthumus assumed the throne, he passed the Brotherhood to another and, in so doing, set the foundation for the Brotherhood for all time.

“In days to come I would speak with each of you, alone and with your chosen mate. Much time has passed and there are things which I do not understand. There is much for each of us to learn. All of you have proclaimed to have a chosen mate, and yet many are not mated? This is something which violates our laws and which I do not understand.”

Harry exchanged a worried look with Hermione and Remus, then he turned back to Eocho.

“Honored Múinteoir, as far as we can tell, some fifteen hundred years have passed since the Brotherhood once existed. Much has changed in that time and I am sure that Remus can help you understand these changes, as well as helping us understand the ways of the Brotherhood. But for now, can you tell us what happened last night? Most of us awoke this morning to find things have changed for us.”

Eocho smiled gently and once again address them in a more formal, ancient manner. “Yes, thou art as impatient as I sensed, Maglios. Very well then, the burden of Brotherhood is not without its benefits. In agreeing to uphold the law in a selfless manner we receive certain refinements. Some of thee will discover thy magic hath grown in strength, others will discover control has improved. Still others will learn that other qualities have been enhanced.

“There will be things thou wilt learn that will be unique to the Brotherhood and it is important that all of thee have the ability to learn it. After we all speak privately, we will speak again as a group, and begin to learn the unique magiks of the Brotherhood.”

Hermione was practically bouncing in her chair at the idea of learning something that had been lost for all these years. Eocho nodded in her direction. “Thy quest for knowledge does thee credit, my daughter,” he said gently to her.

“Honored Múinteoir, will we have time to talk of other things? We have several ongoing research projects that your magic might be able to help us with...” She said, then stopped when Eocho held up his hand.

“We will have time to speak of research and magic, child. My time among thee is limited to when I decide thou art ready. Last night thou didst awakened the Brotherhood, but thou art just babes, knowing little of our ways and traditions. My task is to train thee and I will be here until that task is complete.”

“Maglios, I will come again to thee this evening. I would speak with thee and thy mate then,” Eocho said, then he faded from sight.

“Well that left me with more questions than answers,” quipped Draco.

“At least it explained why we feel different this morning,” said Dan in a soft voice.



* * *



Author's Notes:

This is the point you dread the most in the file. The AUTHOR'S NOTES!!!!! So first, let me say that Alyx and I hope you all enjoyed your holidays. If you didn't, please don't take that as an invitation to telling us what a miserable time you had. We enjoyed ourselves.

To those reviewers that must insist that they explain to us the physics of things like Apparation. Please don't. You make yourself look like an idiot trying to put a scientific explanation on magic. IT'S MAGIC.

I don't get it. A reviewer that claims to be a slash writer of Draco/Harry fics rolling their eyes over the names for Hermione's parents. Lets roll our eyes over the concept of Harry ever falling in love with a guy, let alone his hated enemy. Sure the names are lame, but then I won't tell you what I think about Harry being gay.

Does anyone really believe that at this point Dumbledore is up for being forgiven? Perhaps in another story, but not this one.

We haven't seen the last of the Dursleys, although Petunia and Vernon are pushing up daisies at this point.

Any resemblance between Snape and Metatron in the previous chapter was purely coincidental.

Charlie, working in Romania with the dragons never got the full story from anyone and even when people did write to him, he ended up getting conflicting stories.

Luna says Nerfherders are truly one footed. She is our resident expert on strange creatures so we have to take her word for it.

We have it on good authority that Hermione is properly chastised by her performance during the proposal scene and has volunteered a spanking by Harry. However if you want to see that particular scene, you'll probably have to go over to one of Kinsfire's stories. Alyx won't let me write stuff like that.

And finally we're taking a break from the Pet Peeves for a while because we found ourselves starting to repeat peeves. Never a good sign.





Sunrise Over Britain

Chapter 5 - Relationship building


Standard Disclaimer:

The curtain pulled back to reveal two large saplings bent in towards a center point. The saplings strained against the ropes holding them in place. Between the two saplings stood Severus Snape, tied to each sapling. There were ropes from his wrists, legs and neck, going to each sapling. Snape struggled against the ropes futility.

From off stage, a small figure with a huge head walked slowly towards the center of the stage.

Down in the front row sat all of the outcasts. Hermione pulled her head out of Harry's lap to watch the action. Behind them sat the authors.

The huge headed figure turned to the audience.

“I am told that this poor being has words for you today. But I don't think you'll like them.” said the metallic figure, then it turned towards Snape.

“Tell the people in the audience what you need to say and be quick about it. End their misery mercifully,” said Marvin.

Snape looked up and glared at the android. Marvin pulled out the Point of View Gun and shot Snape with it once.

Snape looked over android's head towards the audience. “I regret to inform you that the authors of this story make no claim to being JK Rowling or having any literary value whatsoever. In fact, this depressing chapter is in no way related to the Potterverse. I apologize for what you are about to read, and hope that it doesn't drive you to do something rash.”

Marvin the android shook his head ruefully. “I knew this wouldn't come to a good ending.”

Harry, out in the audience, barked “Shields up!”

As one, everyone reached down and pulled up an edge of the large plastic sheet to cover themselves. Marvin sliced the rope holding the two saplings in place, causing them to spring back to their original position.

Draco, discovered much to his dismay that someone had charmed his piece of plastic to be pass through, and stood up in disgust, covered in Snape guts.

Alyx turned to Bob in a fit of anger. “These are getting more violent! And what is this bit about Hermione and her face in Harry's lap all the time?” she asked in an outraged tone.

“Violence gets us ratings my dear... and as to Hermione. Well I'm just making Kinsfire jealous. He's trying a non-sex story at the moment and these bits probably tease the snot out of him. But maybe she's just sleepy.”



* * *



Sunrise Over Britain

Chapter 5





* * *



Padfoot Manor (May 11th)...

Harry sat at the desk in his study poring over books. It wasn't his favorite occupation, but he had come to realize the necessity of it. His life and, more importantly to him at least, the lives of everyone around him, centered on his finding the “power he knows not”. His search had led him into all sorts of obscure branches of magic, and that was how he had discovered the similarity principle of Voodoo, which he had used to successfully ward Britain against Voldemort's Death Eaters from escaping.

“I feel thy desperation, my lord Maglios,” a soft voice said from behind him.

Harry sighed and looked up from his books at Eocho. “They depend on me, honored teacher, and I am driven to find a power my foe doesn't understand, or know how to deal with. My family's lives depend upon me.”

“Thy burden is a heavy one, Maglios, but the power thou doest seek lies not within yon books. There is no spell, no special magic to which thou canst use to defeat thy foe. Thy power already works and is all around thee. Thou doest inspire others to strive for a better life, thou doest lead by example and love in the same manner. Thou doest lead and others willingly follow thee.”

Harry laid his book down on the desk and placed the quill in its holder. “Then the 'power' he knows not does not mean a magic like I had hoped. And it will come down to a duel between him and I after all.”

Eocho nodded gently. “It hast ever been thus, my lord. Direct confrontation is the way of these prophecies. Instead of seeking for obscure magics, thou shouldst be looking to weaken thy foe before thou doest confront him.”

Harry looked at Eocho in confusion. “But I thought I could not confront him until our powers were equal?”

“Confront him one on one, aye, that must be avoided for now. But art thou one man? Or art thou a leader of men? And is thy foe not the same? Does he not lead men like thee? Canst thou not weaken him by weakening his followers and make them doubt their choice?”

Harry leaned back in his chair, thinking furiously. “So what you're saying is to attack his organization, to sow doubt and dissension with the ranks of his Death Eaters. We already have plans in the works to do such things, honored teacher.”

Eocho smiled. “I know of thy plans and I know of thy fears and doubts concerning them, Maglios. I felt thy concerns when we first touched minds. The burden of leading is never an easy one. Oft times thou will have needs to send men to their doom and it will be unavoidable. Thou canst never truly share thy burden, but thou canst draw strength from those around thee. Thy woman, for example. She is strong and believes in thee, despite her heretic views.”

Harry looked up sharply, then chuckled. “I suppose to a Druid such as yourself, Hermione's beliefs would appear to be heretical. A lot has changed in the time you slept, honored teacher. Man has experienced the very worst he can be and has shuddered back from that image. Despite his baser instincts, many strive to better themselves and live in peace. Not everything is perfect or we would not have need of thy help, honored teacher, but know that Hermione is a loving person first and foremost. Her compassion is matched only by her desire to learn. Yes, she is a Christian, of the same faith that ultimately destroyed your way of life. But even that faith has gentled over the centuries. And she is a product of that gentleness. I would rather give my life than see her lose that.”

Harry never heard the door to his study open, nor did he notice Hermione enter until he was finished talking to Eocho. He blushed, noticing her, and she smiled back at him, her eyes bright with unshed tears.

Eocho nodded in Hermione's direction and she walked over to sit in a chair near Harry's desk. “I don't think thou doth understand just yet, Maglios. Thou doth wield it unconsciously on all those around thee. Thy chosen one loves thee unconditionally, but thy power has invoked changes within her that she might have never realized had thou not come into her life. Thou art a catalyst, Maglios, and even though thou dost hate the idea of being a leader, let alone hero to people, thou canst help what thou art.”

Harry glanced at Hermione, who looked very thoughtful. “I think I understand, honored teacher,” she said. “Harry exerts an influence on those around him. His influence makes people strive to reach for their own potentials?”

Eocho smiled broadly. “Thou wert a smart woman to start with, child, but under the influence of the Maglios, thou hast taken thy abilities to greater heights. He hath helped not only bring forth thy intelligence, but hath awakened other things within thee. And that leads me to another issue which I fear I must bring up.”

Harry and Hermione shared a glance at Eocho's suddenly serious tone and Harry motioned for him to continue.

“There are many laws and traditions by which the Brotherhood live. Some can be easily forgotten as a product of their age and no longer applicable. Others, however, cannot be so easily dismissed. Of the twelve that have awoken me, only two are married. And yet all are intimate. This casual intimacy is disturbing and will have an impact on thy ability to learn our magics. Control of the magics will be erratic, at best. This is why we only accepted married or unattached members in the past.”

Harry seemed to contemplate that for a few minutes, then he smiled. Hermione looked at him, confused.

“Why are you smiling? Don't you realized what a problem this is going to cause?” she asked him archly.

“Are you kidding me, Hermione? Don't you understand? I'm the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter, Savior of the Wizarding World, and in the past few days I find I'm also the Maglios... all these useless titles and the burdens they cause. Then Eocho here comes along and tells me I have no choice but to add another title to the list, and it's the one title I want the most of all. I'm not going to argue with him about it. He's the one who has to tell everyone else. But in this particular case, I'm going to do exactly what my honored teacher wants of me, with no fights.”

Hermione looked at Harry in confusion. “Title? What title? He's talking about all of us getting... oh! OH!”

Harry chuckled and looked at Eocho. “Alright, she's smart, but in some ways she can be as dense as I am all the time,” he said to the translucent figure before turning back to Hermione. “I know we talked about waiting until after Voldemort is gone, and that was probably a good idea, but we don't know how how long that will take. If Eocho says that being married to you will make it easier on both of us, then I'm willing and eager to accept the title of husband. The title of father can wait until after Voldemort.”

Hermione's eyes grew wide and bright with more unshed tears and she reached out to clasp his hand.

“I am willing to accept the title of wife as well, but you are right,” she said, then she looked at Eocho. “This is a bombshell. Some of our members are quite young by our standards. And while in your time a girl might be married by the time she turned fourteen, in our time we have certain ages that people must wait for. I will turn eighteen this coming September and Harry will turn seventeen at the end of July. In the eyes of our people, we will be adults then. The same can't be said for everyone else.”

Eocho nodded. “I understand. But thou must understand that the magics we will learn will be dangerous, and the bond created by intimacy must be solidified or it can push the magics to dangerous levels.”

Harry frowned. “I am unwilling to give up what I have gained from Hermione. I'm not talking about just the sex. She takes my nightmares away... I couldn't imagine trying to sleep without her anymore and I wouldn't want to even try.”

Hermione squeezed his hand, but held herself silent. She knew about his nightmares, he had them nearly every night. How he managed to sleep at all mystified her. But she also knew that as long as he felt her presence in the bed, the nightmares were held at bay. He could be in the throes of one and a single touch from her changed his nightmare into something else and he'd settle down. She'd have her own nightmares occasionally and his presence comforted her as well.

Eocho's eyes were gentle as he gazed at the two of them. “Thy dedication, one to the other, doth thou credit. I know the demons that plague the both of thee when thou sleep and I will tell thee that I foresee a time when the demons will no longer bother thee. In the meantime, Remus and I will talk about how to best broach this topic with the others. By your leave, Maglios.”

Harry nodded and Eocho faded from sight.

“Merlin, that is going to take some getting used to. He is able to pop in and out without being summoned. And what is this about you being so willing to marry me, all of a sudden? I thought you said we had to wait until after we had dealt with Voldemort?”

Harry blushed and he absently shuffled some parchments on his desk. Finally, he stopped and looked up at her. “I know what I said. I said something that sounded practical, something that sounded logical. I thought 'let's hold off getting married, this way if something happens to me, she can move on'. It wasn't what my heart wanted, it was what my head said to do.”

Hermione slipped from her chair and knelt in front of Harry. “You idiot,” she said gently. “Married or not, if something happened to you, I'd still be devastated. I don't think I'd want to go on.”

Harry reached out and cupped her cheek in the palm of his hand. “I know. I feel the same way. I also discovered when I tried to get my will made that us not being married made it more difficult. I...”

A single tear slid down her cheek. “Harry,” she choked, “I want you alive, not your money. I don't give a damn about your money.”

Harry chuckled. “Hear me out, love. I know it's not very romantic, but it's important. The Potter fortune, combined with the Black fortune, is one of the largest in the world. Not just the Wizarding world, but the world. I tried to amend my will to take into account our relationship, and my relationship with other people, like Remus and Tonks, but my solicitor warned me that I would risk the will being contested because of the lack of formal relationships. Add to that the simple fact that I don't want to wait any longer. Maybe I'm being selfish, but I don't care anymore. I want you to be Mrs. Hermione Potter. But like a fool, I said we'd wait until after I had taken care of Voldemort and I didn't see a way out of that.

“Now Eocho comes along and says it's a problem that we're not married? He's given me a way out after I stuck my foot in my mouth.”

Hermione leaned back on her heels and watched Harry carefully as he explained what he was thinking. Privately she had to admit she had been a little disappointed that he wanted to wait until after Voldemort, but she could see the logic behind it, even if her heart said otherwise. If Eocho would permit, they could legally get married anytime after the end of July. Or with Tonks' permission, before then.

She blinked in shock when Harry levitated her from the floor and into his lap, then she shivered in delight as he nuzzled against her neck.



* * *



Castletown Ireland...

Albus Dumbledore and Charlie Weasley appeared at the apparation point for Castletown, then both checked their costumes again. Charlie had chosen a more mundane look of sneakers, blue jeans and a white T-Shirt, while Dumbledore wore a beige leisure suit and a lemon yellow fedora. Charlie was sure that the hat didn't match Dumbledore's suit, but was too polite to say anything. The man was, after all, the guiding light of the Wizarding World, and could wear what he wanted.

Stepping out from the alley way, both men looked around the busy port town. It wasn't large, as towns went, so hopefully they would be able to find out why Harry had been here last night.

Charlie spotted what looked like a petrol station and a bus depot.

“Professor, wait here a moment. If that's a bus depot like I think it is, they may have a local map I can purchase that will help us.”

“Do you have enough money?” asked Dumbledore.

“I think so. When I realized I would eventually end up in Ireland, I exchanged enough galleons to get two hundred punts,” Charlie said, fingering the money in his pocket.

Dumbledore nodded and Charlie crossed the street, then entered the store. A few moments later, he came back out carrying a small bag. He rejoined Dumbledore and removed a map from the bag, before passing the bag to the older man. Dumbledore peered into the sack and smiled as he reached in for one of the loose lemon drops.

“Thank you, my boy! I don't feel quite myself without a lemon drop to start my day.”

Charlie carefully unfolded the map, looking for some sort of clue. “I don't know, Professor. Castletown is known for being one of the largest whitefish fishing ports on the Atlantic coast but... wait a tic...”

Dumbledore peered at Charlie as he flipped the map over to read something on the back.

“Would it be possible that he went to a stone circle, Professor? There's a Druid circle not two kilometers from here,” Charlie asked intently.

Dumbledore motioned him over to a nearby bench. “It is possible, I suppose. The Brotherhood of Druidic Knights could have rituals which might require the amplification effect a circle would provide. Circles have a long history of aiding in rituals and rites. And considering the amount of power we were picking up, it is possible that some rite was being conducted. Since the circle is so close, we could walk to it and see if we can pick anything up. But I noticed you're limping, my boy. Does your leg bother you still?”

“A bit, Sir. It didn't bother me when I was at the flat, but we're walking more here. I'll be alright. If it gets too bothersome, I'll transfigure a cane for myself to help.”

Dumbledore looked at him with concern, then nodded reluctantly. “Very well, Charles, but if your leg becomes too painful, I must insist you tell me at once. You were injured by a muggle weapon and we do not know what kind of damage it caused. Your healing may have missed something.”

Charlie smiled at the older wizard and then led him up the hill towards the stone circle.



* * *



Haven Operations Center (May 20th)...

Miles Pickerton was discovering that his days were becoming increasingly busy. Once, not to long ago, he had thought he would retire a mid level Unspeakable and former Auror. And then he'd met Harry Potter and his life had been turned upside down. Instead of quietly retiring into obscurity to live off his ministry pension, he had been sent to Azkaban Prison, been rescued from said prison and given the job of planning the ultimate downfall of Voldemort. It was, in Miles opinion, a breathtaking turn of events. And he wasn't even going to mention the addition of Minerva in his life. Not that there was anything between him and the Headmistress. Of course not. But that didn't mean there couldn't be...

Miles shook his head and tried to stop wool gathering. He had more important things to worry about as he descended deep into the Operations Center building. Over a week ago, Draco had dragged the Weasley and Johansen twins into the building and given them space to work on some projects. Miles hadn't been happy about that, but Draco had insisted that both sets of twins would turn out useful if Miles would just let them have some space.

Space he had given them, on the bottom floor, along with instructions to stay out of his hair. And for nearly a week things had remained quiet. The twins went about their business, and he went about his. Until this morning, at any rate. The morning started out well enough, but he had just set a cup of tea on his desk when the whole building shook, spilling it. That would have been enough to attract his attention, but the building shook at random intervals after that. Putting aside his schedule, Miles had quickly made his way down to sub level four, where the twins had set up shop.

Now he was poised to enter the room they were using and he paused to reconsider. He had his hand on the doorknob, ready to turn it, when the door vibrated again and he could hear muffled shouting from within.

Squaring his shoulders, he opened the door and stepped in.

And found himself shocked. He was inside a small office, which would have been normal for this room, except that one wall had a door and a wide glass panel in it. Inga and Helga both worked nearby. Helga sat at a drafting table, working on a diagram and Inga worked at a desk. Inga looked up from her work at the desk and smiled at Miles. Miles was grateful for the fact that both girls wore shirts with their names monogrammed into them.

“Can I help you, Mr. Pickerton?” Inga asked politely.

“Err... I came down here to find out why...”

Miles stopped and blinked in surprise as one of the Weasley twins ran past the window. He was literally being chased by several hundred dog sized crabs. A moment later the other Weasley twin ran by the window, shouting something and laughing.

Inga shook her head. “Just a moment, Sir. Let me call in the boys.”

Inga stood and walked over to a wall panel. She pressed a stud in the panel and spoke into it. “Guys, we have company and I think it's time for you to show off some of what we've done.”

There was a moment of silence, then there came a sound of an explosion and the room rocked for a moment. Inga smiled apologetically at Miles. “There'll be right out, Sir. They had to clean up the mess first.”

A moment later both Weasley's appeared at the window and one stepped through the door.

“Mr. Pickerton! Excellent! I had hoped you would come down to visit us sooner or later,” said one of the twins. Miles had no clue which one he was.

“Now, Fred, you know the rules when talking to those that can't tell us apart. You forgot to identify yourself,” admonished Inga.

Fred smacked himself in the head. “Bugger! Now I have to clean the dishes next week!” he exclaimed, then he turned to Miles.

“Mr. Pickerton, how much did Draco tell you about what we're doing?” Fred asked in a serious tone.

“Not enough, it seems, Mr. Weasley. Basically, he told me that you are working on some projects for him.”

Fred grinned and Miles, for once in his life, was grateful he had never had any kids. A grin like that should be illegal.

“Well, Sir, let me start by welcoming you to your S branch.”

“Q branch,” Inga corrected quietly. Helga stifled a giggle at the drafting table.

“Right, Q branch. Interesting thing those muggles come up with,” said Fred then he turned back to Miles. “Draco asked us to look into developing a few tools for your teams, Sir. Let me show you some of what we've come up with.”

Touching the stud in the panel he said, “George, bring out the fairy flier first.”

George nodded and walked out of sight for a moment, then he returned stand in front of the door. Helga stood from her table and walked over to a cabinet and pulled out a small plastic hoop, then handed it to Fred. George placed a small box on the floor, reached into it and pulled out what appeared to be a large fairy.

“That's not a real fairy, is it?” Miles asked, concerned.

“Of course not!” Inga said, indignantly. “The twins would never force some poor magical creature to do their bidding. That's something old lizard lips would do.”

“Snake face, darling. We call him snake face, not lizard lips,” Fred said, a bit absently.

“Right, snake face. I'll remember this time. Go on with your explanation.”

“Right.” Fred turned to Miles and held out the hoop. “This is a modification of a prank George and I developed and Draco found out about. The hoop provides visual and aural feedback from what the fairy will see and hear. Through a series of easy to learn hand movements, you can control the fairy and use it to enter a building, or to scout out an area which might be to dangerous to send a person into. The range is limited, only a kilometer max, but Draco said that this sort of capability was needed.

“Because there is no direct wand usage, this is un-trackable by Voldemort's forces,” Fred said. As he spoke, the fairy lifted off from George's hand and turned to peer through the window at Miles. Miles could see the image clearly in the hoop that floated in front of Fred. Fred waved his hand in a shooing motion and the fairy took off, flying above what seemed like table after table of 'projects'.

Miles walked over to a nearby chair and sat down, thinking furiously. Finally he looked up at Fred. “This is what Draco asked you to work on?”

Fred managed to look a little embarrassed. “Well, you see, the point of it is, Malfoy... er... that is, Draco, asked us to come up with ideas for things the teams could use that don't require a wand to activate. The fairy flier is just one of those ideas. We're also working on ideas that the teams can use in defense, as well as offensive ideas. The girls here,” he said, gesturing towards Helga and Inga, “have told us about a lot of muggle devices and we've been working on coming up with magical versions.”

George walked in from the other room and stopped next to his brother. “We would have told you, Mr. Pickerton. We asked earlier if we could help, but you didn't take us seriously. I'm afraid we have a bit of a reputation and it got in the way this time.”

Miles leaned forward eagerly. “So what else have you developed?” he asked, his voice laced with curiosity.

George offered Miles two innocuous looked balls. “Flash Bang Nullifiers. The girls gave us the idea by telling us about muggle flash/bang grenades used by the pleasemen.”

“POLICEMEN,” corrected Helga firmly, rolling her eyes at him.

George shot her a grateful look. “Right, policemen. A flash/bang grenade is supposed to use noise and light to stun an opponent for a few critical seconds in order to overwhelm them. The flash/bang/nullifier grenade does exactly that, except that it takes it one step further and overloads all wands in range, say two to three meters. Total effects last less than fifteen seconds, but that fifteen seconds could be handy.”

“We're also looking into making a more advanced nullifier that would work for at least a minute or more, but we haven't got that perfected yet,” offered Fred.

Miles leaned back in his chair holding the two flash/bang/nullifier grenades and smiled. “Boys, I take back everything bad I said about you two after your St. Mungos operation. I didn't realize what Draco had set in motion with the four of you, but I approve. I want you all to meet with Caleb. He's one of my primary team leaders. He can give you valuable insight on what kinds of tools his team needs.”

Fred and George looked at each other and couldn't help exchanging a grin. They had always prided themselves on their pranks, but this was a level of recognition they never expected. If even only a small percentage of their inventions helped in the fight against Voldemort, they would have something to really brag about.



* * *



Padfoot Manor...

Remus stood by the window in the main study while everyone filed into the room. He had spoken with Eocho immediately after the guardian's conversation with Harry and Hermione. Eocho had wanted to speak with each member privately before he addressed everyone again. He had wanted to test the measure of their commitments to their partners, as well as help them recognize the changes that the ritual had imposed on them.

Luna and Ginny experienced an acceleration to their growth process. By the night of this meeting, they were physically the same age as the other students. While neither Luna or Ginny were large girls, the accelerated growth was noticeable, at least to Neville and Draco. Magically, everyone experienced enhancements. Neville received a power boost, as had Terry and Susan. Every member had gained the ability to perform some wandless magic, although Harry still had abilities in that area that far exceeded everyone else.

Remus turned to face everyone. Not only had the new Brotherhood members shown up for tonight's meeting, but Remus had insisted the parents and guardians for the students attend as well.

“Thank you all for coming tonight. As I explained earlier, Eocho has finished his preliminary examination of everyone's skills and he and I have set up a training schedule. Luna, Ginny, you are excused from beginning your training until after your OWLS, which we know start in two days,” he said, smiling to the two cringing girls.

“Now, one of the other reasons why Eocho wanted us all together tonight is because of a rather embarrassing topic,” Remus said hesitantly, then he sighed and squared his shoulders. “To be blunt, sex.”

A number of people, including Harry and Hermione, blushed at his comment. “Eocho dropped a bit of a bombshell on us a while back and we've been trying to figure out... that is, we need to...”

Harry stood, joined Remus at the front of the room and placed a hand on his shoulder. Remus looked at Harry gratefully. “What Remus is trying to beat around the bush about is the fact that we are all intimate with our partners.”

Arthur and Terry's parents frowned while Amelia turned to look at Susan in shock. Susan looked back in defiance and lifted her chin.

“Eocho has informed us that the Brotherhood has a special ceremony, a type of hand-fasting, which solidifies the bond formed between two people who are intimate on a routine basis. The reason for this is simple and straightforward. Each of us will be learning magics that, without this bond, will be difficult to control, even dangerous,” Harry said quietly. Then he paused, waiting for people to catch up from the initial shock.

Arthur shook his head and looked at Ginny. She blushed, but refused to turn away from her father's gaze.

“Wait a moment,” said John Boot. “Are you saying that Terry has been having sex with Susan? And some ghost says they have to get married?” As John's face became mottled in anger, Terry winced.

Remus stepped forward and raised his hands in a placating gesture. “No, that's not entirely what we're saying, John. What we're saying is that Terry and Susan can continue to see each other without the intimacy. If they want more, they have to undergo the hand-fasting ceremony.”

John glared at his son. “Well, he'll just have to learn to keep it in his pants then, won't he?”

“Thou wouldst deny thy son of his chosen mate?” asked a voice. The air in front of the fireplace shimmered and Eocho appeared.

“Know this, all. I have spoken unto each member this past week and tested the measure of thy commitment to thy chosen. The bond that exists between each couple is already very strong, but is still brittle. Like iron in the cold, it can be shattered if it is treated wrongly. The ceremony will take that strength and give it resilience. Tis but a simple matter. Each must ask in their heart if they can wait until an appropriate time to wed. Or will they partake of the hand-fasting and seal what they already know in their hearts they have?”

Eocho looked at each of the members, then turned to the parents.

“This must be decided by each person, individually. Advise thy children, but the decision is theirs and theirs alone,” Eocho said firmly.

“No, by god, it is not their decision,” said John Boot.

“Dad,” Terry said, looking more than a bit worried.

“Hush, Terry. I'm talking to this ancient glow worm here.” John said.

Terry sighed, pulled out his wand and whispered something, pointing it at his father. Then he stood and walked over to him. The man's eyes moved frantically, but his body remained frozen in place.

“I'm sorry I had to do this, Dad, but you've left me no choice,” Terry said sadly. “I'm of age and I'm not living under your roof. Had I not been a wizard and managed to escape Britain, I would have joined the military so I could help retake my home. But I'm an adult wizard, I'm training to be an Auror, and may be able to help my friends and my country.

“Susan has lived next door to us since we were babies. She's my best friend in the whole world and I love her more than I can say. She's an adult witch and she also happens to be the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

Terry ignored the pleased gasp from Susan, and the shocked look from Amelia. Instead, he leaned in close to his father and met the man's eyes with a firm gaze.

“We can talk about this like the adults we are, or we can end this conversation. You raised me to respect you and Mum and I do love you both. But it's time to let me make my own choices. Now, I'm going to release you from the binding and I expect you to behave yourself,” Terry said, stepping back from his father and releasing him from the spell.

John Boot swayed for a moment and then he collapsed heavily into a chair. He wiped his face with a shaky hand and looked at his son for what seemed to be minutes before speaking.

“When I was your age, I decked my old man for trying to run my life. It's not a moment I'm overly proud of, but now I see that I'm making the same mistakes he did... I'm sorry, Terry,” he said softly, then he turned to Susan. “I always thought that someday you'd be a member of the family, Susan. You and Terry were inseparable growing up. I don't know what your aunt thinks about all this, but welcome to the family.”

Susan smiled shyly at John and then turned to look at her aunt, who was sitting stonily in her chair, watching.

“There are things going on here that I do not like, and yet I cannot but wonder if we adults are paying for being too lax with our children. Harry is not yet of age and he is engaged. Draco and Luna are bonded to each other. And now my niece tells me she wants the boy she grew up with to be her husband.

“None of these things would have happened if we parents and care givers had done our jobs in the first place and protected our children. A terrible burden has been placed on all of them and I do not like it. I blame myself for some of what has happened. As head of the DMLE, I could have ordered a review of Harry's stay with the muggles, but I didn't. In a sense, we all share a common blame for relying upon Dumbledore.

“And then we stood idly by and let our children awaken an ancient cult with ancient rules and we're again reaping our rewards. Susan, you are the daughter I never had and I love you with all my soul. If Terry is what you want, you have my permission to marry him. I always knew you would, I just thought it would be a few years from now.”

Silence descended on the group. Susan smiled tearfully at her aunt, while Terry blushed and looked at his feet. Then, as one, everyone turned to look at Bertrand Lovegood. The former publisher blinked in surprise, and then grinned.

“Don't look at me and expect me to blow my top. Luna and Draco have bonded. She's chosen him and nothing will come between that relationship. We knew they would be getting married this summer,” he replied, looking content.

Narcissa nodded. “I have to agree with Bertrand. I would have hoped that Draco would have waited, but circumstance being what they are between them, I won't insist upon it,” she said.

Dan and Emma exchanged glances with each other, then Dan shrugged. “They're engaged, and he's already sleeping with her. For us to complain now would be silly.”

Harry and Hermione blushed, and Dan winked at the couple.

Tonks smirked at Harry. “You do realize that I still have to give you my permission since you're not legally of age yet?” she asked in a teasing tone.

Harry laughed. “Of course. Just as I hope you realize that the ministry is paying your Auror's salary with my money,” he replied.

Tonks stopped and looked thunder stuck for a moment. “Right, now, where do I sign?” she asked, grinning.

Everyone turned to look at the two people that had yet to chime in with their own opinions. Constance Longbottom and Arthur Weasley. Mrs. Longbottom merely shrugged and pointed at Arthur. “Neville's of age, so he can do as he pleases, permission or no. But I think it's all up to Arthur anyway. It's his daughter, and she's underage.”

Arthur sat silently his face a conflicting mass of emotions. He glared at Neville, then at his daughter for putting him in this position.

“Dad?” Ginny said hesitantly.

Arthur turned and scowled at his daughter. “I don't like this, Ginevra. I don't like this one bit.”

“Dad, this is what we wanted anyway, but if you say no, then I promise you Neville and I will go back to being just a dating couple, no fooling around.”

Arthur ran his hand through his hair and Ginny noted for the first time that gray was seeping into his flame colored locks. He looked at her and his eyes narrowed. “No. I know you Ginny. If I said no, you would do just as you said.... until you turn seventeen, at which point you'd tell me to bugger off and marry him despite me.”

Ginny looked down at her feet, having the good grace not to deny her father's accusation. Tonks, who could better see the girl's expression, barked out a laugh at the young redhead's mutinous look.

Arthur shook his head and sighed in resignation. “I don't like it, but I don't have a good enough reason to stop it. Neville is a good man, from a good family. Strange. I came here today to find out what's happening with my daughter, only to discover she's sleeping with her boyfriend. That's the very last thing I expected learn. Oh, I suspected, but there's a difference between suspicion and knowing.”

Arthur turned to Harry and his expression grew hard. “Tell me this, Harry. Is your little group really what you need in order to take on Voldemort? And did you have to include my daughter?” he asked angrily.

Tonks nearly bolted to her feet, angry and ready to pounce on the man, but Remus held her back. “Wait,” he murmured, his gray eyes stormy with suppressed anger.

Harry sat up straight and looked at Arthur. “I didn't include your daughter, Mr. Weasley, she included herself and gave me her trust and friendship. Were it not for her and your sons, Fred and George, you and the rest of your family would probably be in a camp in Surrey right now. Take a look around you, man! How many of the Order of the Phoenix did I bring from England with me? Your daughter earned my respect and my love and she earned you your place here in Haven. She's like a sister to me. And yes, each and every person in this room will play a role when I face Voldemort, including yourself, Arthur. I have to face him, but it will be the job of everyone else here to make sure I get that opportunity.”

Arthur reeled back in his chair as if Harry had slapped him and Ginny glared daggers at her own father.

“Harry,” Hermione said, laying a hand on his.

“No, Hermione. He asked and has a right to know. There will come a point in time when we will all be in danger. There will be a point when lives are on the line and some of us might not come back. None of us knew what would happen when we invoked the summoning for Eocho, but all of us knew, without a doubt, that we would be facing Voldemort. And still we came, as you did, Arthur.”

“Harry... I apologize. I was out of line,” offered Arthur. “It's just...she's my daughter...”

Harry held up his hand, stopping him. “Arthur, she's not my daughter. She isn't even of my blood. But I love her like a sister. I can't promise that she'll always be safe, but each of us would give our life for each other.”

Arthur nodded and looked at Ginny, who was sitting across from him, her eyes flashing dangerously. “Ginny,” he said, waving her to come to him.

She stood and walked to him, her gait stiff. He reached out and took her hand in his. “We have paid a heavy price in this war. Percy, Ronald, your mother. I didn't want you to become part of that price, Ginny.”

Her gaze softened and she squeezed his hand. “You can't protect me forever. The Brotherhood will help by giving me the ability to protect myself, and my brothers and sisters,” she replied in a whisper.

“I know, but it's hard to let go.”

“I'm not asking you to let go, Dad. I never will. I'm just asking that you don't strangle me.”

Arthur nodded and pulled her into his embrace. “You'll always be my little princess, you know.”

Ginny's eyes grew bright with unshed tears and she nodded against his shoulder. “I wouldn't want to be anything else.”



* * *



First Date...

“The patient in bed two is still waiting for her dinner, Ester,” Melinda said as she scribbled a quick note in a patient's file before dropping into the pile of folders on the desk. “For some reason, she insisted on muggle gelatin for her dessert and the kitchen staff assured her they could provide it. Other than that, the ward's quiet and most have been bedded down for the night.”

She stood up, stretched tiredly and smiled at the other woman's snort of amusement. “The paperwork for the day shift is done and I'm going home.”

“I told you that you should have put in for night-shift work, Melinda,” the older woman said, her eyes dancing. “The ward's much quieter.”

“And boring,” Melinda added.

“True, but it helps me catch up on my reading. Besides, we're not exactly running over with patients, so I don't image the day-shift is any more exciting,” Ester commented as she slid into the chair behind the desk and watched the other woman put on her coat.

“That will change,” Melinda said quietly, her eyes darkening at the thought. “And Merlin help us all when it does.”

When Ester made an unhappy noise, Melinda looked up. “In any event, I leave the ward in your capable hands. I'll see you in the morning.”

Taking her leave of the older woman, she headed for the exit. Stepping out into the night, she pulled her coat a bit tighter and tried to shake the dark thoughts that followed her towards home.

The hospital was equipped to handle most situations, but she was worried about what would happen when the rescue teams became assault teams. The number of patients would skyrocket, and the casualties...

She bit her lip and tried to force her mind in another direction, then jumped, startled, as a voice called out from the darkness.

“Melinda?”

“Arthur? Is that you?”

“Yes. What are you doing out here so late?” the redhead asked as he approached her.

“My shift just ended,” she told him, waving a hand towards the hospital. “Is there something wrong?”

“Yes. I mean, no, not really...” He trailed off, running a hand through his thinning hair. He smiled weakly at her. “It's good to see you again. Are you getting settled in all right?”

“Yes, fine. Thank you for asking.”

“And the hospital? Things are well?” he asked distractedly.

“Yes. We don't have many patients, but I was able to brew some needed potions today and...” She stopped speaking for a moment and looked at him carefully. “Arthur, what is it? What has you so upset?”

“It's nothing, my dear.” He gazed off towards the manor in the distance and she watched as he clenched his fists.

“So you routinely take walks in the dark?”

When he said nothing, only continued to look towards the manor, she sighed. Sliding an arm through his, she felt his body tense further. His head whipped around and he stared down at her. “A wise woman told me not long ago that denying our emotions only makes things worse in the end. I didn't believe her. At least, not in the beginning.”

“It sounds as though you've been speaking to Mrs. Johansen,” he said as she began to pull him down the path towards the village in the distance.

“I have and it helped. I know we don't know each other well, but I'm willing to listen. If you're uncomfortable in sharing your troubles with me, I certainly understand. Either way, Olga was right. Talking with someone can help.”

“Where are we going?” he asked, ignoring her not so subtle suggestion.

“The village. I haven't had dinner yet and they're still serving in the community kitchen for another half hour. Olga found out that those of us getting off at the hospital at the end of shift were too late to take dinner in the kitchen and persuaded them to stay open an hour later.”

“You don't eat at the hospital?”

“Usually, yes, though not everyone does so. Tonight, however, the kitchen staff was obsessed with some sort of muggle dish a patient asked for and were a bit harried, so I figured I'd drop into the kitchen in the village.”

“Muggle dish?” he asked, intrigued. “What was it?”

“Something called gelatin,” she told him, her face screwing up. “I'm not sure they got it right, though. It moves, Arthur. It jiggles like a cup of flubber worms!”

“How intriguing! Do you think they'd have any left?”

“I'm sure they do. The cooks were so fascinated by the stuff that they made tubs of it,” she told him, shuddering slightly.

They chatted about inconsequential things as they entered the village and followed the path to the kitchen.

Entering the large room, they stopped and looked around. Several long tables were set up in the hall and the meals were served buffet style from a large steel counter near the kitchen proper. There were a few people about yet, though the kitchen staff seemed to be cleaning up.

“We seem to be a bit late,” Arthur said, frowning.

“You're right. Oh, don't worry,” she said, smiling at his expression. “I have food in the cottage, I just didn't feel like cooking tonight.” She looked towards the counter and spotted a familiar face. “Ah, there's Inga. Maybe she can squeeze me in.”

Dragging him towards the younger woman, she smiled when the blond looked up and grinned.

“Melinda! It's good to see you,” Inga told her as she stacked unused plates.

“Hi, Inga. Are you working here now?”

“Oh, no. Joyce was sick. Fred's busy with Draco tonight, so I said I'd fill in for her,” the blond said. She turned her gaze to Arthur and flushed slightly. “Hello, Mr. Weasley. It's nice to see you.”

“Good evening, Inga,” he replied. “It looks as though you're cleaning up, but do you think you could spare a meal for a hungry healer who just got off work?”

“Healer? Oh, Melinda! Sure, no problem. We're still serving for another fifteen minutes. It's just soup and sandwiches tonight, I'm afraid. Why don't you both go sit and I'll bring it out to you?”

As they found a quiet spot in the dining hall away from the noise of the kitchen, Arthur looked around with interest. He'd been there before, of course, but he'd never really paid much attention to it, as he normally took his meals at the manor.

The hall was much like the Great Hall in Hogwarts, though not nearly as large. The concept was similar, however, and allowed for a great number of people to be served very quickly.

When Inga approached the table with a large tray, Melinda's stomach growled and she laughed. “I guess I was more hungry than I thought!”

“We'll fix that right up,” Inga told her as she put the tray on the table. Unloading it, she smiled at them both. “I know it's not fancy, but it's filling!”

“You're a life saver,” Melinda told her. “I wasn't looking forward to cooking. I'm not very good at it, you see. Your mother offered to teach me, and I'm thinking of taking her up on it.”

“She'd be happy to do it! Mama loves to cook.” She then placed a platter of sandwiches and two bowls of soup on the table in front of them, along with two glasses of pumpkin juice. “We have milk, if you'd prefer, over on the sideboard,” she told them, pointing.

“This is fine, Inga. Thank you,” Melinda said, unfolding her napkin and placing it in her lap.

“Oh, but I wasn't really hungry,” Arthur said, frowning down at the bowl in front of him.

“Nonsense. The soup is delicious,” Melinda told him. “Try it.”

“Well, if there's nothing else?” Inga asked.

“No, this is heaven. Thanks, Inga. Tell your family hello for me.”

“I will,” she said, her eyes dancing as she looked between the two. When Melinda flushed and stared at her soup, she grinned and picked up the tray. “Just leave your dishes when you're done,” she called out as she turned away and went back to the kitchen.

“Well, that was...awkward,” Arthur said quietly as he fussed with his napkin.

“Awkward? Why?” Melinda asked.

“She's dating my son.”

“I'm aware of that. How does that make anything awkward?”

“You don't know my sons, Melinda,” he told her, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes.

“You think they'll be upset over...this?” she asked, waving a hand to encompass the hall.

“No, of course not. It's more a matter of them teasing me about...this,” he replied, pointing at her and then himself.

Her eyes widened as she began to understand. “But we're just two friends sharing a meal,” she protested.

“Maybe,” he replied as he picked up a sandwich and stared at it as though it contained all the answers he sought.

“Maybe,” she repeated quietly, her voice emotionless. “I see.”

When he dropped the sandwich back onto the platter and grabbed her hand, she looked up at him, startled.

“No, I don't think you do. Of course we're friends, Melinda, but the twins are different. They live for a good prank, and the Johansen twins are just like them. Inga will tell Fred that we were here together. Fred will tell George, then they'll tell Bill and Ginny. Normally, I wouldn't mind that. But after the argument Ginny and I had tonight... Well, things are...difficult...right now.”

“Arthur,” she said gently, “it's just a meal. If you're uncomfortable being here with me...”

“No, it's not that. I like being with you, spending time with you.” He blushed and began to stammer, but she interrupted him.

“I enjoy being with you, as well. Why don't we just leave it at that, for now?”

“Right, good.” He reached for the sandwich he'd dropped, only to realize he still held her hand. “Sorry,” he said, dropping it quickly.

Picking up her spoon, she thought it best not to tell him that Inga was watching them both with mischievous eyes. “So, you had an argument with your daughter tonight?”

“What? Oh, yes.” He began to eat, just for something to do.

“Is that why you were out walking?” she asked him as she turned her attention to her meal.

“Yes. I said some things to her and to Harry that I'm not proud of. I didn't think my way through the situation, I simply reacted to it.”

“Ah, yes. The one disease we've yet to find a cure for,” she said quietly.

“Disease?”

“Foot-in-Mouth disease. Very dangerous,” she told him, her eyes bright.

When he simply stared at her uncomprehendingly, she shook her head. “Arthur, we've all had the same problem at one point or another. It's worse when it hurts those we love, but it happens.”

“That doesn't excuse what I said.”

“Of course it doesn't. But I'm sure she's forgiven you.”

“Maybe, but I'm not sure I can forgive myself. Had I not been so trusting, so willing to blindly follow where others led, my daughter wouldn't now be in this situation, and I wouldn't have lashed out at Harry for it,” he told her miserably. “I've no one to blame but myself, of course.”

“What situation?” she asked him gently, her face puzzled.

“They have to get married. Hand-fasting they're calling it, but it amounts to the same thing.”

“Have too...? Arthur, I know our society is a bit archaic, but surely they don't have to get married! There are other options these days. Things aren't as bad as you think.”

“Options? Of course there aren't any options. Oh, she'd stop if I asked her, but once she turned seventeen, she'd tell me to bugger off and I'd lose her.”

“Stop? What are you talking about? You can't just wave a wand and make pregnancy go away!” she told him firmly.

“Pregnancy? What?!” he exclaimed, his eyes boring into hers.

“So she made a mistake. Forcing her to marry because of it is a good way of insuring she's miserable for the rest of her life,” Melinda told him, her eyes sparkling with anger.

“Are you mad? She's not pregnant,” he told her indignantly.

“Wait. Not pregnant, you say?”

“Of course not! There are charms for that sort of thing, you know.”

“Strangely enough, I did. It might have something to do with being a healer, or perhaps it was having been married that taught me,” she said sarcastically.

“What on earth made you think she was pregnant?” he asked her, bewildered.

“You said she 'had to' get married. That generally only means one thing in our society, Arthur. And as I'm obviously missing an important piece of information, I took the only reason left open to me...pregnancy.”

He sat back on the bench a bit and stared at her. “I'm sorry, Melinda. I didn't mean to snap at you that way.” He shook his head and grinned. “Pregnant. Merlin, I never thought of that. You're right. Things could be worse.”

“Right, pregnancy is worse. Hello? Still missing the point of this over here,” she told him, a bit aggrieved.

“Sorry. To sum it up quickly, Harry, Ginny, Remus and several others performed a ritual. As a result, those involved must become hand-fasted.” Seeing the question in her eyes, he held up a hand. “I can't go into details about the ritual itself, Melinda. I'm sorry,” he told her gently.

“All right. So your daughter took part in this ritual and now must become hand-fasted to Harry?” she asked, trying to clarify the situation.

“Harry? Merlin, no! She'll be hand-fasted to her boyfriend, Neville.”

“Neville? But you said... Nevermind, I'm getting a headache,” she muttered, squeezing her eyes closed.

Arthur leaned over the table and took her hand. “Would you like me to get you a potion, my dear?”

“What? Oh, no. That's all right,” she said. Opening her eyes and seeing the concern in his, she sighed. “So, Ginny is to become hand-fasted to her boyfriend, Neville, due to some ritual they performed. Do I have that straight?”

“Yes, that's about right,” he replied, leaning back, but keeping her hand in his. “It came at me a bit suddenly. Well, to be fair, it came at everyone a bit suddenly. Those that performed the ritual were no more aware of the outcome than those of us who didn't. I found out about it tonight and the shock of it ... well, I didn't behave well. I left the manor to try to clear my head, but wasn't succeeding very well.”

“I'm sorry, Arthur. I wish I could help,” she told him, squeezing his hand gently.

“But you have.” At her puzzled look, he grinned again. “You were right. It could be worse. Rather than being hand-fasted, Ginny could have been getting married because she was pregnant.”

“True,” she murmured, picking up her glass and taking a sip. She thought about lecturing him about pregnancy not being a dread disease, but changed her mind. A father was a different creature all together, and she wasn't about to tackle the little-girl-vs-mature-woman issue with him. At least, not tonight.

“I think part of the problem was sex, you see,” he told her merrily, having sorted out the problem in his mind.

She choked on her pumpkin juice. “I beg your pardon?”

“It wasn't so much the hand-fasting that bothered me. It was the fact that I found out she was having sex with Neville.” His eyes grew distant and he rubbed a thumb gently over the back of her hand as he thought about it. “I'd always known the possibility was there, you understand. But being told, flat out and without any prevarication that, yes, your daughter is having sex with her boyfriend? Well, it hit me rather hard, you see.”

“I do, yes.”

“It's fine for me to have a sex life, and the boys, of course. But my daughter? No father wants to hear that!”

Her eyes danced. “You have one, then?”

“Have one what?” he asked, his eyes finally returning to hers.

“A sex life,” she said bluntly.

“Melinda!” he exclaimed, blushing furiously.

“What? You brought it up.”

“I did not! Oh, well, maybe I did. But you don't just ask a person something like that!”

“Why not? It's not as though it's illegal,” she told him, grinning outright.

“It's not a topic generally spoken of in public,” he said, snatching his hand away from hers.

“Public? Arthur, on the off chance that you hadn't noticed, the kitchen closed quite some time ago.”

He looked around jerkily. Most of the lights were shut off, the serving counter was clear of dishes and the hall was empty.

“Oh, right,” he said dumbly.

When she stood up, he looked back at her, his face still ablaze with color. “Melinda,” he began, his voice pleading.

“It's all right, Arthur,” she told him gently. “I enjoyed the meal and the company, but it's getting late. I'll just clear these dishes and go home.”

“No, leave them,” he told her, standing. “I'll walk you home then come back and take care of them.”

“You don't have to,” she began.

“I want to. Come on.” He wound her arm around his and escorted her from the hall. When they stepped out into the night, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly, realize that he felt better. “Thank you,” he told her quietly.

“For what?”

“For listening. You were right. Talking to you about what happened tonight did help.”



* * *



Dalton, Georgia (USA)...

The sign on the dingy shop window merely said Rupert and Sons, Antiquities. From the outside, the shop looked like any other roadside antique dealer in rural America. There were some rusting farm implements in the front yard and an old Studebaker that had seen better days sat around the side of the building, rusting in the humid Georgia sun. In fact, from the outside, there was very little to recommend the shop. It appeared that the owners had blurred the lines between antique and junk a long time ago.

The door chime dinged once and a small, almost gnome-like man sat up from his position behind the counter where he had been dozing. It was probably just another curious tourist hunting for a rare bargain. He did have those rare bargains, some of them right out in plain sight, but most people never recognized them for what they were.

A tall man approached the counter and the gnome eyed him warily. He was dressed in black from head to toe and he wore a cloak despite the heat. This man was no tourist.

“Mr. Rupert, I presume?”

“Aye, that's me.”

“I am given to understand you are also a dealer of rare and hard to find items. Item's so rare, one would have to be a wizard to find them.”

Rupert's eyebrows raised in surprise and he eyed the man more closely. He hadn't missed the emphasis the man had placed on the word wizard . “Aye, some have said that about my skills in finding things for them.”

The tall man nodded, as if approving of the shopkeeper's caution. “Very well, then. You may call me Mr. Smith. I am a buyer's agent for a wealthy European client who wishes to add some unique items to his expanding collection. Do you think you might be able to help?”

Rupert fingered his wand, then nodded. “Why don't you step into the back with me and we can discuss your client's requirements?”

Rupert flicked his wand and the front door locked and the open sign flipped to around and read 'CLOSED'.

Leading the tall man into the back was like going from night to day. Where the front room was dingy and cluttered, the back room was spotless. Items were carefully placed on the shelves and priced, an elegant table and plush chairs sat in the center of the room. Rupert motioned for the man to take a seat.

“Can I offer you some tea? Or perhaps coffee?”

“Coffee, please. Black, no sugar.”

Rupert poured two cups, handing one to Mr. Smith, then at in the chair across the table from him. Pulling out parchment and quill, he looked inquiringly at Mr. Smith.

Smith smiled for a moment, then pulled a small notebook from his pocket. “My client has several specific items he desires greatly, but on the top of his list are Strangler Collars and Cauldrons of Chaos,” Smith said, eying Rupert carefully for his reaction.

Rupert frowned. “These are proscribed items, Mr. Smith.”

“I am aware of that, Mr. Rupert, as is my client.”

“So long as you do. I won't have it said that I'm selling proscribed items to unknowing clients! But as you are aware of that fact, I can assure you that I can get the items for you. In fact, I happen to be in possession of two Cauldrons right now. I got them a few years back from an estate sale in New Orleans.”

Smith leaned forward anxiously. “You have two of them? Now?”

Rupert smiled. “I am an expert at what I do, Mr. Smith. I collect rarities. If I remember correctly. one Cauldron is in near perfect condition, whereas the other has clearly been used. I'd rate it's condition to be good.” Rupert stopped smiling and turned very serious. “Mr. Smith, you do realize that these are not going to be cheap? Selling proscribed artifacts to anyone but a museum carries a frightful penalty.”

Smith nodded in reply. The American Department of Magic took a very dim view on someone selling proscribed artifacts. It was one of the few civil crimes that resulted in a sentence of a Life Wipe. The Life Wipe spell sent its victim into a coma for an undetermined amount of time and, when said victim emerged from that coma, he or she suffered from irreversible amnesia. The Department of Magic routinely sent Life Wipe victims to Muggle hospitals and they vanished from Wizarding society forever.

“Mr. Rupert, my client is prepared to pay you handsomely for your efforts on his behalf. Not only will he pay you for any of the items you locate, but he's also offering to partially fund your search for what he wants. And he'll pay you a finders fee on top of that.”

Rupert's eyes widened slightly. This guy was a live one, all right. It was time to talk about the important things. Rupert scribbled a price on a scrap of parchment, noting it was per Cauldron, and slid it across the table to Smith, who glance at it.

Smith nodded. The price was about twenty percent less than he was prepared to pay, but he understood Rupert was low balling the price to ensure he'd come back to him for more business.

“I think we can do business, Mr. Rupert. I should like to inspect the Cauldrons. Just a precaution, mind you. If they are acceptable, we can proceed to the next step,” said Smith.

Rupert stood. “Of course. If you will follow me.”

Smith rose and followed Rupert to a wall covered by a Persian tapestry. He tapped the tapestry once and it rolled up, revealing a door. Rupert opened it and entered, with Smith on his heels. The room was more cluttered than the previous, but the objects in it were clearly well taken care of.

“Tell me, Mr. Smith, how much do you know about the Cauldron of Chaos?” asked Rupert as he stopped in front of a pair of small crates.

Smith frowned for a moment. “Not as much as I probably should, but my client has informed me that each Cauldron has a unique mark on the bottom, a sort of manufacturers mark.”

Rupert nodded. “Aye, that they do. But a true Cauldron of Chaos has a form of magic all its own. A dangerous magic. I suggest you either put on the gloves that are on the case behind you, or you levitate the Cauldrons. Touching one can drain you magically. That is why I keep them sealed in these boxes. They are dangerous objects.”

Smith looked startled for a moment. This was information he hadn't been given! He reached around and put the heavy dragon hide gloves on while Rupert opened both crates. Then he stepped back.

Peering into the crates, he was surprised to see how small they were. These couldn't be more than a number four cauldron, capable of only a few doses at a time!

“Small, aren't they?”

“Yes. I understand they were made from meteoric iron. They had to be small, considering they probably didn't have a lot of the iron in the first place,” Rupert replied.

The Cauldrons were a glossy black, but they seemed to suck in light, rather than reflect it. Smith reached in and pulled one of the Cauldrons from the case. It was very heavy, far heavier than it's size would have implied. Even through the heavy dragon hide gloves, he could feel the Cauldron pulling at his magic, and for that first time that day, he was truly frightened. Upending the Cauldron, he quickly checked the mark on the bottom to the list he had. Then he returned the Cauldron to the crate. He repeated the process with the second, noting this Cauldron had some minor usage damage to it. When he was done, he quickly walked away from the dreadful Cauldrons and sat heavily on another crate, shivering.

He looked up when Rupert handed him a small vial.

“Pepper up potion. I always need a dose after handling them,” Rupert offered.

Smith downed the potion in a single gulp and steam blew from his ears for nearly a minute before he started looking better. He handed the empty vial back to Rupert with a grateful nod.

“Shall we retire back to my office to discuss the details?” Rupert asked.

Back at the table Rupert waited for Smith to begin.

“The Cauldrons are authentic. If you can provide me with account information, I can see that the transfer is made to your account within twenty four hours. In the meantime, I will provide you with shipping information. You cannot ship directly to my client, so these will go to a drop point in Paris, where they will be couriered, by hand, to him directly. I will also provide you with a list of other items, but my client wishes to get as many Cauldrons as possible.”

Rupert nodded. “I can arrange that, Mr. Smith. I will ship as soon as Gringotts confirms the funds transfers.”

After giving the shopkeeper the shipping information, Smith stood and shook the man's hand before showing himself out.

Rupert watched him leave and drummed his fingertips nervously on the table for a moment before scribbling out a note on some parchment. Rupert's fear of the Life Wipe wasn't exaggerated. Nearly twenty years ago he had been caught selling proscribed artifacts and he was given a choice, cooperate with the government or face trial and a probable Life Wipe. He had taken the cooperative road for himself and thus started living the double life of an informant. The government was very circumspect in their operations. Most of the time they monitored his customers and found other reasons to charge them with crimes, thus avoiding blowing his cover.

He knew this sale would interest his political masters, especially since the objects were so dangerous and being shipped overseas.



* * *



Haven School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (May 18th)...

“Are you sure this is the right thing to do?” a voice whispered from a nearby table.

“You know it is! Our parents are doing everything they can to help the Master. If they'd been able to get us out of Hogwarts, we be helping them. With Potter releasing the Fidelius charm at the end of the month, we have our chance. Not only can get they get Potter, they can get us out of this bloody place and back where we belong!” another voice hissed quietly, although not quietly enough.

“Yes, but how?”

“Until the Fidelius is dropped, any owls will go through the Irish Ministry first. There's no way they'd forward them on for us, and they'd wonder why we were writing our parents anyway, since we've both said we don't want any contact with them. But when the charm comes down, the Ministry will stop checking our mail, and we can owl them the exact location of the manor. They can get in and kill Potter and his bloody friends before anyone knows what's happened. We can leave with them. With Potter gone, there will be no one left with enough strength to oppose the Master.”

Millicent Bulstrode stood behind a bookcase in the library, her eyes narrowed in concentration. When the overheard conversation moved on to more mundane matters, she took a bit of a risk and peeked out from behind the bookcase to note who the speakers were.

When Madam Pince announced that the library would be closing in ten minutes, Millicent took her books to the librarian's desk and checked them out. The two students she'd been eavesdropping on didn't notice the dark, thoughtful look she sent them.

Hurrying from the library, she weighed her options. In the end, she realized she only had one real choice. Changing directions abruptly, she shrunk her books, put them in her pocket, and headed for the Headmistress' office.

Reaching McGonagall's door, she raised her hand to knock, but hesitated. It was getting late. There was no reason this couldn't wait until morning. She still had homework to do, and she was sure the Headmistress had more pressing concerns...

Growling to herself, she straightened her shoulders. She was making excuses and she knew it. This was more important than homework, and the Headmistress would certainly want to know about it. With that thought firmly in mind, she knocked on the office door briskly.

“Come!” a voice called from within.

Opening the door, Millicent stepped into McGonagall's office and closed the door behind her. She spotted the Professor sitting behind a mammoth desk piled high with paperwork, and nearly cringed. She was interrupting, she should have waited...

“I was wondering how long you would stand outside my door before knocking, Miss Bulstrode,” McGonagall commented just before looking up and pinning the younger woman with bright, hazel eyes.

“You knew I was there, Professor?” Millicent asked, surprised.

“Of course. Albus Dumbledore isn't the only one with a few tricks up his sleeve, my dear. Now, what is it that's brought you oh so hesitantly to my office?” The humor in her voice was obvious, but her eyes were stern and unyielding.

“I've overheard something you need to know about, Headmistress,” Millicent said, rather formally. “I hope you will forgive me, but...” She trailed off as she reached for her wand and turned to the door. Casting both a silencing charm and a locking charm, she made sure to put her wand away before turning back to face the Professor.

McGonagall watched her with a calm expression, though she did nod. “Fine work, Miss Bulstrode. Why don't you sit down and tell me what's on your mind?”

Taking the offered seat, Millicent looked down at her feet and fidgeted for a moment. She started to pick a piece of lint from her robe, but stopped herself and clenched her fist. Looking up at the Professor, she took a deep breath to calm her nerves and told McGonagall what she'd overheard.

When Millicent was finished, Minerva sat back in her chair and gazed at the student thoughtfully. “You were right to bring this to me, Miss Bulstrode. What I don't understand is why you are so nervous.”

Millicent shook her head, but kept her gaze on McGonagall. “You don't understand, Professor. I'm a Slytherin...or I was until we came here. Harry Potter knows that and, no matter what he may say, old prejudices die hard. I hope you believe what I've told you. But whether you do or you don't, it's Harry who must be convinced.

“My family has always been neutral in this war. That was known before my family was rescued. What Harry doesn't know is, from the moment he saved my parents, my neutrality ended. My parents can do what they like. As for me, I've thrown my lot in with Harry and will do everything I can to help him. The problem, however...”

“You don't think he'll believe you,” Minerva said quietly.

“Yes,” Millicent said simply, her shoulders sagging once more. “Professor, I killed Ron Weasley.”

When McGonagall began to interrupt, Millicent kept speaking. “Oh, I know most think it was an accident, but it wasn't. I knew what would happen when I opened that wall. I knew the Acromantulas would kill him. I'd seen them close to the back of the greenhouse not five minutes before Weasley came in. I've tried to not feel guilty over what I did, but I can't. He would have killed Neville and I wasn't going to stand by and watch. But I couldn't get a clear enough shot at Ron to stop him! When he hit Neville with that curse, I knew I had to do something. So I lowered the wall and...”

“And Ron Weasley died because he was intent on killing a student. You couldn't have stopped him any other way,” McGonagall finished softly when Millicent trailed off.

Seeing the shock Millicent's face and the tears beginning to gather in her eyes, Minerva stood and walked around her desk to kneel before her. Pulling a handkerchief from her pocket, she gave it to the young woman and smiled. “Yes, my dear, I do believe you. I always have. I knew what Ron Weasley had become, just as I knew Albus Dumbledore had no intentions of trying to turn the boy from his path.

“It is a heart wrenching situation we supposed adults find ourselves in, Millicent. When children must kill to save their own lives, or the lives of others, it is the adults who must bear the brunt of the guilt. That we have let it come to this...”

The Headmistress sighed and stood up once more. “Ron Weasley died due to his own actions, Miss Bulstrode,” she said firmly. “Harry Potter is aware of the situation and he, too, believes you had no choice. He will not hold that against you. However, he does need to be made aware of what you have overheard. I know it is late and that you undoubtedly have homework to do, but I'd like for you to remain here while I notify him of the situation. He may wish to speak with you tonight.”

“Of course, Professor.”

Pulling her wand from her sleeve, Minerva transfigured another chair into a desk and smiled at her student. “As this may take some time, why don't you take your chair to the desk and study?”

Having gotten Millicent settled, Minerva scribbled a quick note to Harry and sent it off with one of the Haven School house elves. While she waited for a reply, she opened another file on her desk and continued with the routine business of running such a large school.



* * *



Elven Express (When you care enough to send the very best)...

Most were unable to hear the small popping sound in the dining room at Padfoot Manor, but both Harry and Hermione did. Turning in his chair, Harry raised an eyebrow at the small Haven School elf standing between him and Hermione.

“I is sorry to interrupt, Sir, but Mistress McGonagall wished for me to give this to you. I is to wait for a reply.”

“Thank you...ah, what's your name?” Harry asked.

“I is Fittle, Sir,” the little elf said, standing up straighter. No human but the school Mistress had bothered to ask his name before. Dobby, strange as he was, was right. Mr. Harry was different.

“Thank you, Fittle. I'll be quick,” Harry told him as he opened the parchment and scanned it. “Hmm. Please tell the Headmistress we will be there shortly.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Fittle said and, with a quick bow and a small pop, he disappeared.

“What is it?” Hermione asked quietly.

Harry gave her the parchment and scanned the table quickly. “Draco?” he called, seeing the blond at the far end of the dining room. “Would you come here for a moment? I've just been made aware of something you might find interesting.”

With a puzzled look, Draco shrugged, pushed away from the table and stood. He joined Harry and Hermione a moment later. “Is something wrong?” he asked.

“I don't know,” Harry replied as Hermione passed the parchment to Draco. “But I've sent Professor McGonagall a message saying I'd be there as quickly as I could. I'd like for you to join me.”

“Do you want me to come?” Hermione asked, already putting her napkin on the table.

Harry thought for a moment, then shrugged. “No. There's no sense is both of us missing dinner. I'll fill you in when I get back.” He stood up, kissed her on the top of the head when he saw her disappointed look, then nodded to Draco. “Let's go.”

Exiting the manor a few minutes later, both young men set a brisk pace for the school.

“Any idea what's happening?” Draco asked.

“All I know is what McGonagall wrote in her note. Millicent's overheard something she thinks is important, and the Headmistress agrees. I don't know Millicent well and for the first five years, the only interactions we had were...well, they weren't very pleasant. But I do know she saved Neville's life...and that I owe her a favor,” Harry concluded, his eyes shining with mischief.

“A favor? Why?”

“That's something between Millicent and I,” Harry said with a small smile.

“I hate it when people do that, Potter,” Draco grouched.

“I know,” the green eyed man said smugly, then stopped suddenly, gazing off towards one of the experimental greenhouses. “The lights are on. Neville must be working late. I wondered why he wasn't at dinner. Come on,” he added as he changed directions. “Let's take him with us. He and Millicent have become friends, and we may need him.”

“For what?” Draco asked, puzzled.

“I've no idea, but I'm learning to cover all my bases.”

Shaking his head at his friends odd behavior, Draco followed.

Opening the door to the greenhouse, Harry stepped inside and looked around. “Nev, you around?” he called.

“Back here, Harry. Give me a minute,” Neville called out. “If I don't finish this at the right time, I'll lose it all.”

Following Neville's voice, Harry and Draco moved through the greenhouse cautiously, careful not to touch or get too close to any of the plants. Rounding the corner of a long counter top loaded with Pygmy Borneo Strangler, whose tentacles reached for them hungrily, they spotted Neville. Harry moved towards him, while Draco watched the struggling tree's tiny arm-like appendages writhe in anger as it was unable to snag its pray.

“Why on earth would anyone want something as grotesque as this, Neville?” Draco asked, his voice full of loathing.

“What?” Neville asked, looking up from the flower in front of him and spotting the blond. “Oh, the Strangler. Unlike most trees, its arms are loaded with blood, not sap. We break the arms off the trunk and drain them for blood replenishing potions.”

Draco blanched and backed away from the still writhing tree. “I could have lived my whole life without knowing that.”

“That will teach you to stop asking foolish questions,” Harry replied, grinning.

“No question is ever foolish,” Draco said with a sniff and he joined the other two.

“If you're going to stay, then kindly shut up,” Neville told them bluntly as he bent back over the flower. “I have to get this planted quickly or I'll lose it.

A few minutes of patient care saw the plant settled into a new pot of warm soil. An unmistakable sigh was heard...coming from the plant. Both Harry and Draco backed up several steps, watching it carefully, and Neville chuckled.

“It's an African Evening Primrose. It can only be transplanted and harvested in early evening. If I'd been unable to finish in time, the plant would have died.”

“Yes, but the thing sighed, Neville,” Draco said, his eyes wide.

“This plants normal life expectancy is only three months, Draco. Professor Sprout and I have managed to keep it alive for two years. It's relieved, that's all.”

“But,” Draco began.

“The answers will only disturb you, Draco,” Harry told him. “Why dig the hole any deeper?”

Draco closed his mouth and glared at him, but Harry only chuckled.

“So what brings you to the greenhouse?” Neville asked, wiping his hands on a towel and turning towards both men.

Harry passed him the parchment from McGonagall and waited until Neville looked up at him, his expression confused.

“You and Draco know Millicent better than I do, so I thought I'd bring you both along,” he said simply.

“Well, I'm done here and I'm sure I've missed dinner. We can go whenever you're ready.”

“I'm certainly not going to stay in this freak show any longer than I have to,” Draco said as he turned around and headed for the exit. “This place gives me the creeps.”

“You were never interested in Herbology,” Neville commented as he turned off the lights in the greenhouse and closed the door.

“Most normal people aren't, Neville,” Draco said loftily.

“Oh really? Let me tell you something, Draco...”

Harry walked towards the school, enjoying the light bantering going on between the others, and wondered just what Millicent had overheard to cause the Headmistress to summon him.



* * *



A New Ally...

Seated in Professor McGonagall's office, Harry looked around, trying to beat back the feeling of being summoned for punishment or a lecture. One couldn't go through over five years of classes with the formidable transfiguration Professor without some things rubbing off.

After casting silencing, locking and anti-eavesdropping charms, Minerva returned to her desk. “Gentlemen,” she began, “I'm glad you could come on such short notice. Miss Bulstrode has brought me some interesting information that I though you should be made aware of. I realize it's late, but I felt this couldn't wait. Miss Bulstrode? Why don't you begin by informing them of what you overheard?”

Sitting back in her chair, she then eyed the faces of the young men before her as Millicent told her story. Draco was scowling, Neville's eyes were scrunched up in concentration, but Harry's face was expressionless. Minerva began to frown in concern, but Harry turned to face her and her eyes widened instead. Expressionless his face may be, but his eyes blazed.

“Harry,” Millicent said as she wound up her tale, “I know you have no reason to trust me. We've never been friends, and I've done some things I regret, but you have to believe me. I'll take Veritaserum, submit to Legilimency, whatever is necessary to gain your trust.”

“Why?” Harry asked quietly.

When she simply gaped at him, he waved a hand irritably. “I don't mean why would you be willing to submit to such things. I mean why are you willing to help me? Your family is neutral. If anyone finds out you're doing this, that will end,” he informed her.

“It already has, at least for me. When you rescued my family, my days of fence sitting were over. I knew it then, but wasn't sure what I could do to help. When I overhead the students talking, I had no choice. You had to be made aware of it,” she told him.

Harry nodded, but said nothing more.

“Who were the students?” Draco asked, his eyes intent.

“Jack Palmer and Mindy Joyner,” Millicent replied.

“Hufflepuffs!” Draco exclaimed loudly as he leaned back in his chair. “Fifth years who've never stepped a foot out of line! Lucius never mentioned either family serving old snake-face. Are you sure about this, Millicent?”

“Positive,” she said firmly, her gaze steady.

“I thought perhaps a Slytherin. Yes, fine, ex-Slytherin then,” he said in annoyance when Neville began to correct him.

Draco bit his lower lip in thought, then scowled when he realized he'd picked up Granger's annoying habit.

“It fits,” Neville said quietly, his eyes unfocused as he stared over Millicent's head.

“Fits?” McGonagall asked.

“Hmm? Oh, yes.” Neville turned and met her eyes. “Most of the students in Hogwarts who had Death Eater parents were pretty obvious about it. Sorry Draco,” he said with a small, apologetic smile, “but you know it's true. Most of you made no secret of the fact that your parents thought Dumbledore was a doddering old fool and that they wanted Harry out of the way. There was only one reason for that. It's not like he was a brilliant student who was dragging down your scores, like Hermione. Oh, sorry Harry. Didn't mean anything by that.” Neville blushed profusely.

“Even though he's just horribly insulted us both, he's right, Draco,” Harry said, his lips twitching.

Draco's eyes narrowed. “But why wouldn't Lucius have mentioned their families? He was forever going on about keeping the dark families close to each other, though mostly to keep on eye on them. Why do you think I hung around with lumps like Crabbe, Goyle and Parkinson?”

“You're assuming Lucius knew about them,” Harry said. “Voldemort doesn't tell his minions everything, Draco. No matter how high your father may be in old lizard lips' council, I'm sure he wasn't told everything. And if the other students didn't know about Joyner and Palmer, there was nothing to alert the Hogwarts staff of the need to keep an eye on them, was there?”

“Devious bastard,” Draco muttered, then blushed when McGonagall scowled at him fiercely. “Sorry Professor.”

“So you believe me?” Millicent asked.

Harry turned to her and she flinched as she met his gaze. His eyes blazed and bored into hers for a moment before they softened. “I do,” he told her and she sagged a bit in relief.

“The question,” he continued, “is what to do about it?”

“Don't drop the charm,” she said quickly.

“No, it has to come down, and I've already taken steps to protect the manor. I meant what should be done about the students.”

“They'll have to be watched,” Draco said.

“Wouldn't it be better just to send them back? It's obvious they haven't given up allegiance to their families as they said, so why not kick them out of Haven?” Neville asked.

Minerva made a tsking sound as Draco shook his head. “No, if we send them out, we give up the chance to gain more information,” the blond told him.

“Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer,” Harry quoted quietly and Draco nodded.

“Draco, you're not going to be able to spy on them. You're not attending school anymore and it would look odd if you hung around the grounds,” Neville said.

“Not me, no. But maybe Luna, or Ginny... no, they're leaving after their OWLS.” Draco trailed off, thinking quickly.

“You're all missing a valuable asset sitting right in this room,” Minerva told them. “Miss Bulstrode attends this school, is known to be neutral to those in the...darker families, and has already proved she can be useful in this.”

Millicent stared at her feet while the three young men looked at the Headmistress.

Minerva shook her head in exasperation. “That the three of you attended my class for almost six years and never learned to pay attention to details causes me no end of shame,” she told them in her sternest professor's voice.

“Sorry, Ma'am,” Harry, Draco and Neville all replied at once, then all three blinked in astonishment as they realized what they were doing.

“How very Slytherin of you, Professor,” Draco said, grinning impishly. “For a moment there, I thought I was back in school.”

“Me, too,” Neville said, shaking his head. “I wonder how long that habit's going to be around.”

“Bill Weasley's still doing it, Nev,” Harry told him, though his eyes were on the Headmistress. “I don't think it ever goes away.”

“Nor should it, young man,” Minerva said firmly, though her lips were twitching. “However, the point of this is...”

“That Millicent, if she's willing, could keep an eye on the students,” Draco interrupted.

When those in the room turned to Millicent and waited, she looked up and met Harry's eyes. “If you'll trust me, I'd like to do it.”

He smiled at her. “It looks like I own you two favors now.”



* * *



Ballincollig, County Cork, Ireland (May 22nd)…

“Are you sure you're up to this, Charles?” asked Dumbledore in a kindly tone.

“Yes, Professor. You've helped to refresh me on my Occlumency, and you've warded me against mind control spells. I think it's time we find out what it going on. This is my family we're talking about here.”

“Very well, Charles, but I want you to be very careful. We do not know what level of control is being imposed on your family or anyone else,” Dumbledore said.

“Yes, yes. I understand, Professor, but this is really our only option. We didn't learn anything about what Harry was doing at Castletown other than the fact that he was there. And we've not been able to catch up to him any time he's visited Stonewall Lane. We're running blind here, Sir, and until I get inside, that's not going to change,” Charlie said hotly.

Dumbledore sighed heavily and nodded at the young redhead. “All right, Charles. You know who to send your reports to and you have an emergency portkey that will bring you to one of the Order's safe houses here in Ireland, should anything untoward happen. But please be careful. You will be our only operative inside of Haven.”

“I'll be careful,” Charlie said as he finished packing his rucksack.

Standing, he shook Dumbledore's hand before turning and leaving the small apartment. Once on the street, he quickly walked into an ally and apparated away.

Charlie reappeared in an ally behind the muggle pub where he was supposedly going to meet his family. Walking around to the front of the building, he was surprised to find they had picked a popular tourist pub in which to meet. The Prancing Pony was an old business, having been passed from father to son for nearly ten generations. In that time, it had gained in popularity with locals and tourists and saw a steady stream of customers.

Charlie opened the door and was nearly bowled over by the noise of the fiddles playing and he shook his head in amazement that anyone would want to meet in such a noisy place. He stepped into the pub and looked around for the tell-tale red hair, only to be surprised to find that a good third of the customers sported red hair like his own. He grinned and waved when he spotted his father sitting at a table and never noticed the two Aurors who were watching his every move.

“Charlie!” exclaimed Arthur, who then bounced from his chair and grabbed his second oldest son in a tight hug.

Charlie hugged his father, then turned to see a small red blur streak into his arms. Charlie wrapped his arms around his sister and fought to control his own emotions as he held her again. She had grown quite a lot since he had last seen her.

Arthur led him over to a table where he had a couple pints ready for them. He was surprised to see Ginny had her own pint, although it didn't look like she was drinking much from it.

“I know you expected me earlier, but I had to see about Mum,” Charlie said, just loud enough to be heard over the din in the pub.

Ginny's eyes widened as she realized he'd risked a trip to England.

Arthur nodded. “I suspected something along those lines. Did you find her?”

Charlie frowned. “No, I didn't find any sign of her. I checked several places. Great Aunt Milly is still in her place at Seaton, but most every other place I checked was deserted.”

“Milly's still alive in her place?” Arthur exclaimed. “Well, we'll have to put her on the list then.”

“Charlie, where have you been all this time?” asked Ginny.

“Gin, he just said he was looking for your Mum,” Arthur reminded her gently.

Ginny shot her father a reproachful glance, but subsided. Something didn't quite ring true to her about her brother's story but she wasn't sure what it was. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him closely, and the feeling of wrongness grew.

“Charlie, you've heard about Haven, haven't you?” asked Arthur.

“Yes Dad, I read about it in the Dublin Daily,” Charlie replied.

“Excellent. Then we'll enjoy this fine lunch and, when we're done, we'll take you to our home there. I think you'll like what we've done with the place. It's not the Burrow, you understand, but it's rather homey.” Arthur smiled at his son, his eyes bright with feeling.

Charlie nodded and smiled back. Then he glanced at Ginny and noted her expression. For the first time in his life, he had to admit there was something intimidating about his sister's gaze, and that bothered him.



* * *



Padfoot Manor...

Harry sighed in relief as he slipped into the tub. He had spent the last four hours working with Eocho, who had proven to everyone that he was more than just ghost when he took over several ground floor rooms of the manor, converting them into training areas. Harry remembered learning about it the hard way.

Eocho had come to Harry just after lunch and beckoned him to join him in his rooms. He also summoned Hermione. The three had spoken for a while before he sent Hermione into another room to work on translating several texts into something everyone could understand. Harry, he sent to the other side of the room and started hurling curses at him.

Harry's leg turned lame less than thirty minutes into the exercise, and Eocho had stopped the match. He floated over to where Harry stood, leaning against the wall, massaging his leg.

“Let me examine thy leg, Maglios.”

Harry glanced up at him, then nodded and rolled up his pants leg, revealing his damaged calf muscles.

“Alas, that thy healers lack the ability to heal wounds such as this is unfortunate. This limits thy mobility and will make fighting difficult. I know a few spells that thou canst use to extend thy mobility, but they cannot be used with impunity, Maglios. I will teach thee those spells but thou shouldst only use them when thy need is great. Now, tell me, why didst thou waste time in our battle? Why art thou hesitant in thy choice of spells?”

Harry looked at Eocho and grinned sheepishly. “I didn't want to hurt you, revered Teacher.”

Eocho crossed his arms and looked at Harry incredulously. “Maglios,” he said in a gentle tone, “I am dead these past fifteen hundred years. How canst thou possibly hurt me more?”

Harry blinked in surprise. That was a thought that hadn't occurred to him!

A pair of chairs appeared and Eocho waved him towards one. “Sit, Maglios, and we shall talk of war. Thy leg will not permit further fighting today.”

Eocho took the other chair and, as he did, the lights in the room dimmed. “War, Maglios, it is the ultimate form of justice, where one must assume the role of both judge and executioner. Our ultimate mission is to be the final arbiter in war. But our primary goal has ever been to try to make sure that war does not happen. Sometimes we may talk a foe out of war. Other times, a selective assassination can prevent a war or sometimes we could even pay to avoid a war.

“But when that war comes, we show no mercy. It is our way. If one doth leave a foe wounded on the field of battle, he might heal and come again at thee, when thou least expect it.

Thy selection of spells were all designed to confuse and disable thy opponent, when thou shouldst have been trying to kill from the outset. Tell me, Maglios, will thy enemy try to stun thy mate, or will they try to kill her outright?”

Harry frowned. “They will try to kill her.”

Suddenly, in the dim light, Hermione appeared with a squawk. Across the room, two black robed Death Eaters appeared and snarled, seeing Hermione. Both raised their wands and cast killing curses at her. Harry surged to his feet, transfiguring a brick wall in front of the surprised Hermione, then he cast a heavy blasting hex at the two Death Eaters.

The killing curse crashed into Harry's wall, shattering it. His hex hit one of the black robed men, who exploded with such force he knocked out his fellow Death Eater. Seeing that both men were down, Harry turned and hobbled over to Hermione as fast as his leg would allow him.

He grabbed her in his arms and glared at Eocho. Across the room, the two Death Eaters faded from sight.

“Most excellent, Maglios. This is the kind of combat thou doth face, and the kind of combat thou must bring to thy foes. This is no child's game. The winner of this war is the one left alive. This is the kind of combat which thou must teach to thy brothers and sisters.”

“I understand, revered teacher, but did you have to bring Hermione into this?” Harry said in an angry tone.

“It was the only way to make thee understand, Maglios. Thou doth hold little value for thy own life, but thou doth hold hers as the most important in the world.”

Hermione swiveled in his grasp and glared at him and Harry winced inwardly. Eocho turned to look at Hermione and he smiled knowingly. “Thank you, my daughter. Thy help is always appreciated.”

Hermione broke free from Harry's embrace. She looked at Eocho for a moment, then nodded, understanding the message he was trying to tell Harry. She turned to Harry then and clearly gave him a look.

Harry sighed and nodded. “Yes, Hermione, we'll talk about it later.”

The pair watched Hermione leave the room before resuming the lesson.

And now, Harry lay in the bath, knowing full well that an unhappy Hermione waited for him in their bedroom. Sighing, he sunk lower in the tub and began to knead the muscles in his leg. The heat of the tub sunk to the bone, making him drowsy and the room began to fill with a heavy mist coming off the tub. He jumped when Hermione called his name softly.

“Harry?”

He sighed once again and looked down at his hands in the water. “Look, Hermione, I'm sorry about what happened this afternoon. I didn't know Eocho was going to toss you into the middle of a fight like that.”

She smiled softly at him and began to undress. “I spoke to him about it. I wasn't in any danger. It was all an illusion, even the killing curses cast by those Death Eaters. Eocho just wanted to see if you'd release your inhibitions about killing.”

“I don't like killing. Sooner or later there has to come a point where I'd be no better that Voldemort,” he said quietly.

“No one in their right mind likes killing, Harry. Shortly after we arrived here in Haven, I asked myself if I could kill and I couldn't come up with an answer. I know you've killed, just as I know it hurts you each time you have to do it. It hurt you to kill at St. Mungos, it hurt you when you killed to save my parents, you even hurt after the incident at the Ministry. You'll do what you have to, to survive and to give others the chance to survive. I'd like to think I'd do the same, but until I've been put in that situation, I can't really say.

“Look, it makes me feel very good to know you think I'm the most important person in your world, but you have to realize that I feel the same for you. You have to place a higher value on your life. If you care about me one iota, you have to work on changing that.”

Harry watched her as she undressed and climbed into the tub. “I'll try.”

“No, Harry, you won't try. You'll do it because losing you would devastate me. If you care for my happiness at all, you'll start putting a higher value on your own.”

He pulled her into an embrace. After all a wet, naked Hermione was something that should never be passed up. “I promise to try. That's all I can do.”

She relaxed in his grip. If Harry promised to do something, he'd die trying to accomplish it.

“So, what else did you and Eocho talk about?” she asked, curious now.

“He showed me a few spells that I can used on my leg to give me full mobility for few hours, then cautioned me to use them only when absolutely necessary. He said that once the spell wore off, the effects would be 'unpleasant'. Then he talked a bit about the history of the Brotherhood and how he intended to transfer his memories and fighting techniques to me, directly.”

Hermione turned her head to look at him and he shrugged. “I don't understand it entirely myself, Hermione, but he is training me in a manner similar to Occlumency. He said that once I master the ability to commune, he would be able to transfer memories directly.”

Hermione broke free from his grasp and moved a little away from him. “He's teaching you to commune?” she asked incredulously.

“That's what he said.”

“Did he say anything about teaching the rest of us to commune?”

“He said that he was going to teach one of each couple to commune, and they would teach their partner.”

Hermione expression broke into a huge grin. “Harry, I worked on two texts he supplied today. One dealt entirely with communing. If we can do it, we'll be able to share memories, share feelings, and share power. Communing is similar to that power sharing ritual we performed, but more personal. With it, you can tell if someone is telling the truth, see their memories. It's more powerful and more personal than Legilimency. It's an incredible skill to learn!”

He smiled at her exuberance. “Well, I'm supposed to teach you the technique. Eocho also wants me to start teaching everyone to fight, once the memory transfer is completed,” he said, then he paused and his expression grew thoughtful. “Wait a moment. Hermione, this communing thing. It doesn't set up permanent links, does it?”

“Oh, no. It's something we have to want to do. From what I translated today, it sounded like the Brotherhood often used communing to interrogate prisoners, or to communicate with animals directly. I'd have to say it is probably close to something Luna does, or would do once she learns to control her skills better.”

He nodded thoughtfully, then reached for a bar of soap. She could see he was trying to piece together what she had told him. Lathering up his hands, he started to soap up her back, then paused again.

“So I'd be able to talk to an animal? Like Hedwig?”

“I'm not sure if talking is the right word for it,” she said, then sighed as he proceeded to massage her back. “I think we'll have to wait and see exactly what Eocho can show us.”

Smiling to himself he rinsed off her back. “Turn around. It's time for me to deal with the front.”

She turned in the tub and smiled impishly at him. “You do know I'm perfectly capable of doing this myself, don't you?” she asked with a grin.

He shrugged. “Yes, but do you want to do it yourself?” he asked running his slick, soapy hands over her breasts.

“No, not really,” she whispered, arching her back.



* * *



The Weasley House, Haven...

Arthur settled into bed for an uneasy sleep. He was pleased with the way today had gone. Bill and the twins hadn't been available to go with him and Ginny to the Prancing Pony to pick up Charlie, and there had been an uneasy tension between Ginny and Charlie that he had trouble understanding.

When they had arrived back in Haven, Arthur and Ginny had shown Charlie around the town. Charlie seemed suitably impressed, especially when he saw the Goblins erecting a Gringotts branch office next to the town hall. The town had been undergoing many changes as people prepared for the removal of the Fidelius charm at the end of the month.

After seeing the town, Arthur was surprised when he moved to take Charlie up to the manor house and Ginny told him that he couldn't. Charlie wasn't on the list of people allowed to visit the house and until that changed, he couldn't go there. Arthur was unused to his daughter asserting herself, but she had become more decisive since the ritual, nearly two weeks ago. Charlie was surprised to see his sister telling their father that he couldn't do something, and even more surprised to see his father back down. According to his father, he was an assistant deputy for the Ministry in Exile.

Arthur relaxed and drifted for a moment. His family was just one of the problems he had to deal with it. Tomorrow he'd be meeting with O'Dalley to finalize the plans for the constabulary and the dropping of the charm. He also had to arrange for Harry to attend a town meeting. There were some nasty rumors floating about in regard to dropping the charm and only Harry could dispel them.

And finally, there was Melinda. Melinda McKinney was a widow, a competent healer, and a good deal younger than he was. And despite all that, she made him feel like he was back at Hogwarts again. He wasn't sure exactly what he was feeling towards the woman, or she towards him, but he hoped they'd be able to find out.

Arthur drifted off to sleep knowing that despite the problems, things were moving forward. Perhaps not as smoothly as he'd like, but they were moving.

From the bedroom two doors down, Charlie had just finished his nightly journal entry. It was a habit his mum had introduced him to more than twenty years earlier. It was something that his family was used to seeing him do. He had kept a daily journal all through his Hogwarts years, and when Ginny came home from her terrible first year at Hogwarts, he had been there to help her overcome her fear of using a journal.

He paused as he completed his description of Haven, it's layout and the people, then went into his impressions of what he had seen, what people had told him. He paused when he got to his impressions of Ginny. She represented the only truly unusual thing he had experienced since arriving in Haven. For one thing, she wore a cloak with an embroidered emblem of a Celtic cross on the breast. That, in itself, wasn't unusual, but her bearing and manner were not in line with the little girl who had cried in her sleep that horrible summer following her first year. She had matured far beyond her age and there existed some tension between them that he couldn't define. She looked at him as if she were measuring him, weighing his words and looking for truths beyond what he was telling her.

As far as Charlie was concerned, as he explained in his journal, this was clearly evidence that she was being manipulated or controlled. It confirmed his fears.

In a book many miles away in Ballincollig, Charlie's words appeared as if he were there writing them himself.

Albus Dumbledore sat reading this first entry and smiled to himself. The information wasn't especially useful, but it was a start.



* * *



Haven School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Girls Fifth year dorm...

Ginny looked up from the notebooks that were scattered all over her bed. OWLS and NEWTS would start tomorrow. Luna bounced through the curtains around the bed, landing in the midst of the Ginny-created mess, causing several notebooks to fall to the floor. Ginny sighed and summoned the books back to the bed.

“Ginny, if you don't know the material by now, no amount of study is going to help with the exams tomorrow,” Luna said, her voice airy.

“I know, I know. It's just that I took some time off today to go with Dad to get Charlie and I wanted to get some last minute transfiguration study in,” she replied, then sighed. “I suppose you're right. No amount of studying is going to help at this point. I mean, the exams are tomorrow.”

“So, is Charlie alright? Why did he take so long to arrive here?” Luna asked.

Ginny blinked in surprise. She was still getting used to this Luna. Between the effects of her mixing her soul with Draco and what the Brotherhood was doing to her, Luna was turning out to be quite capable of focusing on people and events. She could hold a conversation without mentioning three toed Snarfsters or the fabled Sable Bloomslang of Central Asia.

She frowned. “Physically he's fine, Luna...”

When the blond looked at her, Ginny found herself shuddered back from the feelings of intense curiosity and concern for her that Luna was broadcasting.

“But?” prompted Luna.

“I don't know. That's the problem, Luna! His story made sense and he seemed like the Charlie I know and love, but at the same time, I felt uneasy. It's as if something isn't right and I can't put my finger on what it is. Dad wanted to take him to the manor and to the Operations Center, but I told him he couldn't because Charlie wasn't on the list. He isn't on the list, but something tells me that maybe he shouldn't be...” Ginny said pensively, then she wrapped her arms around herself and shivered slightly.

Luna eyed the girl for a moment longer. Her talents were coming into focus and, like Harry, she could see magic auras when she wanted to. Her abilities with auras was less capable than Harry's, and she lacked the experience he had with it. What she could see was that Ginny was developing a talent, though she didn't what it was. That didn't surprise her. Everyone in the Brotherhood was undergoing a similar process. The interesting thing was they all seemed to be either refining existing talents or developing wholly new ones. Ginny's talent was just beginning to manifest itself and Luna wondered if this distrust she had for her brother was a result of it.

“Maybe I'm just stressed from all these rituals and the upcoming OWLS,” offered Ginny.

“Maybe,” offered Luna. “But you'll have a chance to reacquaint yourself with Charlie when the OWLS are over. In the meantime, you should get some sleep. I am turning in early also.”

Ginny nodded to Luna as the blond slipped from the bed.

Padding to her own bed, Luna scribbled a quick note and added it to the one from Millicent. A few minutes later, Tobby appeared.

“Hello, Tobby. How are you tonight?” Luna said , smiling at the elf.

Tobby beamed up at her. “We is fine, Mistress. Master Draco sends his love and a note for you to read.”

The little elf handed her a small leather case. Luna opened it, removing the parchment, then inserted her note to Draco about Ginny and Charlie, along with the note from Millicent. It amused her no end that her fiancée used her as a letter drop to get his 'spy stuff' from the school. But maybe he'd find her note about Ginny and Charlie of interest. If not, there was the other note that she thought he'd like. It described, in great detail, something she'd like to do to him while he was tied to the bed posts. And if that didn't make him happy, maybe Millicent's note would.

“Here you are, Tobby,” she said, handing the small case back to the elf.

“Thank you, Mistress. Sleep well!” the little elf squeaked before vanishing.

Crawling into bed, Luna pulled the blankets up around her shoulders and wished for morning to arrive. Once her OWLS were done, the pain of being separated from Draco every night would end, and she very much looked forward to it.



* * *



Author's Notes:

This is the part you dread. It means you're down at the bottom of the file, scrapping the bottom of the dung heap. The end, the last bits and bytes, well you get the picture. This is the section where we trot out our responses to some of the reviews and morons like that Ambiance15 who's petty actions got us kicked off of fanfiction.net.

Is Molly dead? We can't tell you without giving away spoilers. You will just have to hold your water and wait and see.

Magic, like medicine, can't heal everything. Don't look to the brotherhood to magically cure every ailment people might suffer from.

Why is Charlie looking so hard for Molly? Wouldn't you look for your mother if she vanished without a trace?

The power benefits from the Brotherhood will vary considerably. Harry will see refinements in his abilities, but no new abilities. Everyone will learn new magics and see benefits of some sort.

Draco isn't Q, Draco is M. The twins make up Q branch, as we see here in this chapter.

The Fidelius charm will be lifted at the end of May in our time line. That it will take Haven that long to train up its constabulary is coincidence. The preparations for lifting the charm are what drives when it gets lifted.

People keep asking that we kill off Dumbledore already. That is not going to happen anytime soon. Dumbledore provides an alternate plot line and villain besides Voldemort, so don't look for him to die anytime soon.

Yes, Dan is an enchanter. In our vision of the Potterverse there are wizards and then there are wizards with talents. Enchanting isn't a very rare talent, but it is a highly respected one. Every wizard can place a temporary spell on an object, but you need someone who can enchant to make it permanent.

No, Harry will not be driving a souped BMW from Q branch. Although I won't discount the possibilities of souped up brooms. Snicker.

And now for a new feature of our Author's Notes:

Welcome to “This would be a really nice story that we'd like to recommend but the author has fallen into a coma and hasn't updated in at least sixty days” Hall. Or simply called the UPDATELESS LIST !!

The Father .

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/1749622/1/

Here is a wonderful story, Harry/Hermione pairing. Well written, believable plot line. Even manages to redeem both Snape and Draco. Unfortunately it hasn't seen an update since September of 2005.

The Father earns the first entry in our on UPDATELESS LIST !





Sunrise Over Britain

Chapter 6 - Far Reaching Decisions


Standard Disclaimer:

The curtain fell back to reveal a scaffold on the stage. Two men armed with swords pushed Severus Snape onto the stage and up onto the scaffold where he was tied to one of the posts. There was a long moment of silence, then the Sheriff of Nottingham walked onto the stage and climbed up onto the platform.

“Say the words for yon Authors Severus Snape and I will release thee!” snarled the Evil Sheriff.

The sheriff scowled as two men wheeled a wooden carving of him onto the stage. The carving was perfect, down to the scar on his cheek.

“The authors of this mockery of literature wish to make it abundantly clear that they in no way claim any rights to that blasted Gryffindor Harry Potter, his slut Hermione Granger or any of the other items in the Potter Universe! Those rights belong entirely to JK Rowling and the authors are doing this merely because they are masochists,” Snape said in a bored tone.

The Sheriff looked to Bob who was seated behind Harry and Hermione in the audience. Bob nodded in reply to the Sheriff and he grinned evilly. The Sheriff then turned and pulled out a large spoon from his pocket.

“Tacky Bob, very Tacky,” commented Alyx.

“Yeah, but at least I don't have Hermione's head in Harry's lap this time.”

Harry pulled his head out from under Hermione's skirt and looked at Bob and Alyx curiously. “What?” he asked.

“You're a pig, you know that don't you?” Alyx asked Bob.

“Yes dear.”

“Watch now, here comes the gory part.” commented Bob.

“DIE!!!” screamed the sheriff and he lunged forward with the spoon.



* * *



Sunrise Over Britain

Chapter 6



* * *



Padfoot Manor (May 22rd)...

Draco sat back in his chair, reading over the dispatches he had received today. His work with Miles in training the elves was paying off, but he had ended up building two intelligence groups instead of the one he had originally envisioned.

He had one group, specially trained to go into Britain, and another group to dealt with matters in Haven. That group included more than just house elves. He chuckled and shook his head when he thought about Millicent Bulstrode. The large girl had managed to help Harry on a couple of occasions and was now helping to keep an eye on the older students in the school.

And then there was the twins. Insane, there could be no doubt about that, but brilliant nevertheless. Caleb was already singing their praises. The Night Vision Glasses and Flash Bang Nullifiers had been field tested with everyone coming away happy. The Fairy Flier was a little on the touchy side and someone had to be trained to use it, so they hadn't had a chance to test it yet. The twins had a number of projects going that Draco thought would help a lot...if they could work the bugs out of them, literally in some cases.

When the door opened, Draco looked up and watched as his mother and Bertrand Lovegood walked into the study. They often spent their evenings together, chatting over the events of the day. Narcissa and Bertrand had become close over the past few weeks, but it was only a friendship. Bertrand's relationship with his wife made him incapable of anything more. Draco felt a little sorry about that. His mother could use a man in her life who cared for her. But if friendship was all she wanted right now, Bertrand was supplying it.

“Oh, Dray, I thought you'd be done by now,” said Narcissa in a disapproving tone.

“I thought so as well, Mother, but it seems the amount of dispatches and papers I have to read increases every day.”

“Don't worry about it son,” Bertrand told him with a smile. “I'm sure Luna will be more than happy to act as your assistant when she's done with her OWLS.”

Draco frowned. “With all due respect, sir, Luna is far too capable to be given the task of secretary. I'll welcome her help, but I am not going to have her doing that sort of menial work.”

Narcissa beamed a broad smile and Bertrand nodded approvingly as well. “Well said. Why don't you run down to the school and let Minerva know you would be willing to hire some studious new graduate to act as your assistant?” Bertrand suggested

Draco stared at Bertrand stupidly. He had never considered the idea of actually hiring people.

Narcissa's eyes twinkled. “Close your mouth, dear. It's alright for us to know you have perfect teeth, but you don't need to advertise it.”

“I could hire on more people,” he whispered, half to himself. Tobby, his lead house elf, popped into the room, distracting him from thoughts of paperwork free evenings, and gave him the leather case he used for dispatches to and from the school. Accepting the case, he nodded and the little elf vanished again.

“Love letters from Luna?” asked Narcissa with a sly smile.

Draco opened the case and shot a scowl at his mother. He had explained to her what the notes were all about, but she still thought it funny to tease him once in a while. In a way, he privately admitted she was right. Being raised a Malfoy with an over rated opinion of himself and his family left him ripe for ego bashing. Since Christmas, when she filed the divorce papers and asked Harry, as the head of the Black family, to annul her marriage, she had been slowly weaning Draco of his Malfoy heritage. Luna had accelerated the process beyond what Narcissa was capable of.

“No, Mother,” he replied stiffly, trying to maintain his crumbling dignity. “These are dispatches from my sources at the school.” He would never admit that she was getting to him.

He quickly read through Millicent's note, detailing a list of names she had come to suspect were forming a new blood based opposition within the school. He made a note of the information and another note to ask Tobby if they could get the cooperation of the Hogwarts House Elves now working at the new school.

The note from Luna was more disturbing and he made a note to send a notice to Harry about it, first thing in the morning. The bit about Ginny's developing talent was interesting, but her feelings and comments concerning Charlie were a bit alarming.

Placing those two notes to the side, Draco turned to the final note from Luna, while Narcissa and Bertrand watched. His eyes widened dramatically and only the presence of the two adults kept his reaction in check, barely.

Luna's letter went on to describe certain things she would probably be doing to herself while he read her letter, and exactly what she would be thinking about while she did them. It further described, in exacting and loving detail, her desire to have him with her there and what she wanted to do.

Draco shifted in his chair trying to get more room in his pants as the available real estate vanished. He swallowed heavily several times and knew if he stood right now he would clearly advertise the contents of the letter. Then he promised himself that he'd see she got the opportunity involving the silken ropes and the headboard.

He looked up and was surprised to see Bertrand smiling knowingly at him. “Her mother was quite expressive in her letters as well.”

Draco blushed and cursed his parents for his pale complexion that made blushing so obvious.



* * *



Pranking Tonks...

Remus climbed up the stairs and walked the last few steps to his bedroom. He had returned to the manor late this evening after repaying Hagrid a favor by playing Werewolf for his Care of Magical Creatures class all day.

Remus didn't mind much helping Hagrid and, in this particular case, according to Eocho, he needed to spend at least eight hours a month in his werewolf form. It was the only requirement remaining from his Lycanthropy.

After the Ritual of Summoning, Tonks had insisted that Remus undergo a complete physical from Danni. The healer was shocked to discover that Remus was free of the deadly disease. She suspected that there was a good chance the ritual had converted his disease from an illness to a trait that could be passed to his children. He had one hundred percent control over the change, without the need for the potion, and the transformation was no longer the painfully debilitating process it once was.

Stepping in front of the bedroom door, he paused. His sensitive nose could pick up Tonks' scent from within and he could also tell she had recently bathed. He smiled at the scent of the sandalwood bath salts that he had introduced to both Harry and Hermione. Right now the scent Tonks was giving off was one of being clean and being angry. Very angry.

Remus stepped into the room to find his future wife still wrapped in a towel, wading through clothing strewn all about the floor.

“Tonks?” he asked cautiously. He knew she was mad, but mad enough to empty the closets?

Tonks whirled to glare at him and she thrust out a double handful of ladies undergarments at him. “This is your fault!” she said angrily. “You filled his head with tales of Marauders and the exploits of his father.”

Remus held up both hands and took a step back. “What did he do this time?” he asked, trying hard not to laugh.

“He changed all my clothing! Every last piece I own is too small for my normal body. And my underwear... my underwear...” she trailed off, sputtering and incoherent in her anger.

Remus looked at the clothing in her hands, noting that every one of the undergarments looked as though they'd come from an lingerie outlet, a very risque lingerie outlet. Thoughts of Tonks dressed in such garments was enough to cause his brain to hiccup.

“Oh, I don't know. Some of them look interesting...” he stopped talking. The look she gave him said quite clearly he was just moments from a painful death.

Tonks whirled and began to paw through her clothing again. Remus watched her for a moment before deciding to try to calm her down again.

“You know, this never would have happened if you hadn't taken Hermione's form and tried to trick Harry with it,” he said in a soft voice. “You tried to play a prank on him and he caught you at it. Pranking back is a time honored Marauder tradition.”

Tonks sighed and sat on the edge of the bed causing the tightly wrapped towel around her body to loosen noticeably.

“It seemed like such a good idea at the time. Now that I can change mass as well as form, I thought I'd practice being others, in case I had to stand in for one of them one day. Then when Harry walked into the room I couldn't help myself,” she said with a bit of a pout.

Remus chuckled, remembering the event well. Harry had walked into the room and found a Hermione slinking up to him, practically purring with desire. Harry frowned and flipped her upside down, hanging her from the ceiling. Remus came running when he heard Tonks' indignant yelling.

“Sweetie, you of all people should have known better. Harry can see auras and that's the one thing you can't change. He knew it wasn't Hermione as soon as he saw you. Actually, his reaction was quite restrained,” offered Remus.

Tonks frowned at him. He knew she prided herself on her ability as a metamorph. He also understood that being told that someone could see through her disguises was a bit of a blow to her ego.

“Look love, Harry is just about the only one that can see through your disguises, although it wouldn't surprise me to find that Luna can as well. That girl doesn't see things the way we do,” he said, then he shook himself slightly. “I'm getting off the point here. You're looking at this completely wrong. The very fact that Harry is willing to prank you back tells you an awful lot about how he feels about you. He wouldn't prank you like this if he didn't care about you.”

Tonks' expression grew thoughtful as she reviewed her relationship with Harry. It hadn't always been as good as it was now, and there was that time that she nearly got Remus killed and Harry had tore into her over it. If she had to classify their relationship she would have forced to admit she had fallen into the role of big sister. It was cordial, there was even love there, which surprised her to no end. Finally, she nodded to herself and looked up at Remus.

“Alright then, so how do I make peace? I seem to have started a prank war and I wasn't ready for the consequences of it,” she asked.

“How about I go make peace with Harry for you, since you seem to be... ah... having problems finding something to wear?”

Remus grinned and ducked a pillow thrown in his direction as he headed for the door.

She bent down and picked up a blouse off the floor, then she sank wearily back onto the edge of the bed and tried to adjust her size to match the clothing she held, but it was of no use. As she shrank to match the size, the clothing shrank again. Growling to herself, she threw the blouse to the floor. It was a small consolation that the towel didn't change sizes as well.

Tonks sat for a few minutes wondering how well Remus was making out when all the clothing strewn about the room shimmered briefly. She looked down at the blouse she had thrown to the floor and saw it was back to normal size again. Picking it up, she spotted her underwear beneath it and grimaced to see that, while it had changed to the right size, it was still embarrassingly skimpy. Sighing, she realized that Harry had accepted her peace offer, but this was either payment for the initial prank, or perhaps a gift for Remus. Then she started to laugh. Remus, she knew, would definitely appreciate her new underwear.

And he'll have something to enjoy tonight, she thought to herself.



* * *



Weasley Residence, Haven (May 25rd)...

“How did this happen?” Melinda asked as she examined Charlie Weasley's obviously infected leg.

“I was attacked by a muggle in London. He shot something at me. What was it again, Dad?” he asked as he looked down at his leg and the healer kneeling before him.

“A gum, from what you described,” Arthur said, pacing the study of the Weasley cottage, obviously upset about his son's injury.

Melinda bit her lip. “I think you mean a gun,” she corrected.

“Yes, a gun. Nasty things, or so I've read. Why in blazes was he shooting the thing at you, Charlie?” the Weasley patriarch asked, clearly upset.

“Why do muggles do half the things they do?” the younger redhead asked, his expression guileless.

His father scowled at the non-answer. “Muggles may be strange, Charlie, but they have reasons for what they do. Perhaps he thought you had batteries, or maybe a plug or two? Muggles so enjoy such things, and I'm sure if you'd only talked to the man, you would have found his reasons perfectly harmless.”

“Well, I've found the source of infection,” Melinda said quietly, interrupting what sounded like the beginning of an argument. “There's a lump of lead in your leg. I can only assume it's what the muggle shot at you. When you healed the wound, you left the lead inside and it's become infected. It will have to come out and I'm afraid it will be painful, since you refuse to take any pain relieving potions.”

“They make me muddle-headed,” Charlie told her with a frown. “I'd rather keep my mind clear.”

“Son, I really think you should take the potion. There's no reason to be in any more pain.”

“I refuse to be drugged by anyone, even a healer, Dad.”

Melinda shook her head. “It's your choice, Mr. Weasley. But as you insist on doing this, I must insist that you keep your screaming to a minimum. It makes me ill-tempered,” she told him, her smile all teeth and little warmth. She disliked the macho-types as, in her opinion, they screamed louder and with less cause than a child getting a shot.

Charlie looked at her, a bit alarmed and she stood up and pointed her wand at his leg. Any chance he may have had to change his mind however, ended when she murmured an incantation and pain hit him in waves. Refusing to cry out, he ground his teeth together and closed his eyes tightly

He felt a slight pressure on his shoulder.

“Calmly, Mr. Weasley,” Melinda McKinny's soft voice said through the fog of pain. “The lead has been removed and the wound has been cleaned and healed. It's over now. But you must control your breathing or you'll hyperventilate. That's it, slow, deep breaths. Just like that.”

When Charlie finally opened his eyes, he found himself staring into a pair of concerned, green eyes. He smiled weakly, before sitting up straight in his chair. His leg throbbed, but the agony of it was gone.

“Thank you, Mrs. McKinny,” he told her, his voice hoarse.

“You're welcome.” She stood up and smiled at him. “I'm sorry if I seemed a bit harsh. While I understand your reason for refusing the potion, I hope you understand that no healer likes to see her patient suffer needlessly. Next time, do this poor healer a favor and take the potion.”

“As I don't plan on having a next time,” he began, smiling.

“And now that you've jinxed yourself well and good, I think that's my cue to leave,” she said, laughing.

“Oh, don't leave,” Arthur said. “The rest of the family will be here soon for lunch. I was hoping you would join us.”

“Thanks for the offer, but I don't want to intrude.” She finished packing her supplies and stood up. “Make sure to keep an eye on that injury,” she told Charlie. “You shouldn't have any problems but if you do, contact me, or one of the other healers, immediately.”

“Yes Ma'am,” Charlie said with a salute. “However, Dad's right. You should stay for lunch.”

The front door opened with a bang and loud voices were heard in the den. “Dad! Where are you?”

“We're in the study,” Arthur called, then grinned at Melinda. “Too late. The clan's all here and you'll not make your escape now.”

“Dad, what's going...Oh!” Ginny Weasley said as she skidded to a stop in the doorway. “Hello... Mrs. McKinny, isn't it?”

“It is. And you must be Ginny,” Melinda replied. “It's nice to meet you. Your father has told me so much about you.”

Ginny blushed to her roots. “It's nice to meet you, too. Oh, Charlie! How's your leg?”

“Better. Healer McKinny's healed it up for me, good as new.” He stood up and flinched slightly from the pain. “Dad and I were just telling her that she's welcome to lunch with us.”

Ginny's eyes widened for a moment, then she nodded vigorously. “Yes, that would be lovely,” she choked out. “Excuse me a moment.”

She bolted from the room and the three adults frowned at each other. What they didn't hear was the whispered conversation between her and the twins in which she informed them that Inga had been correct, their father was dating Mrs. McKinny.

With a shrug, Arthur escorted their visitor to the den and introduced her to Fred and George, who wore nearly identical expressions of glee. Ginny, looking rather innocent for one who'd just rudely rushed from the den, stood behind them.

While the twins entertained their guest with amusing stories of their time at Hogwarts, Arthur and Charlie began lunch. A few minutes later, the twins excused themselves.

“How bad was Charlie's leg?” Ginny asked as she watched the twins disappear.

“Nothing that couldn't be fixed, but I'm glad he didn't hold off any longer than he did. He was suffering from lead poisoning, and the source of the poison was still in his leg. I removed it, cleaned up the infection and leeched out the poison before healing it. He should be fine, though it will be a bit painful for awhile,” Melinda told her.

The front door banged opened once more and Bill entered the den.

“Hey short stuff, how are you?” he asked as Ginny flew into his arms. “I hear OWL's were a pain.”

“They're not over yet and that's all I have to say about them,” she mumbled into his shirt. “I haven't seen you in awhile.”

“That's because you spend all your time with Neville,” he teased, pulling her ponytail lightly.

She slapped his arm playfully, then turned and pulled him further into the room. “Come, meet Mrs. McKinny, or do you prefer Healer McKinny?” Ginny asked.

“Either will do,” Melinda said, standing.“Though I prefer to be called Melinda. You must be Bill Weasley. It's nice to meet you.”

“A pleasure, Melinda. So you're the one who's to heal our Charlie, then?” he asked.

“She's just done so and he's already up and about,” Ginny told him.

“Was it bad?”

“Nothing too serious,” Melinda began, only to be interrupted by the re-entrance of the twins. She sat back down and watched the siblings interact. They were boisterous group and obviously cared for each other and their teasing good humor was infections. When Charlie called them into the kitchen for lunch, Melinda had been accepted as part of the group and they entered, laughing together.

The laughter continued through lunch. As the meal ended, Arthur sat back in his chair and scanned his family, feeling a small pang for his missing sons. Oddly, the gentle sorrow he usually felt when thinking of Molly was gone and, as his eyes settled on Melinda, he thought he knew why.

His reverie was interrupted as George stood and tapped his spoon on his glass.

“Attention, attention! In honor of this gathering of the Weasley clan, and to congratulate Dad on accepting the the post of Deputy Minister...” George trailed off, looked at his twin and raised an eyebrow in question.

When Fred stood and grinned cheekily, Arthur tensed and leaned over to Melinda. “Hold on to something,” he murmured quietly, watching the twins as one would eye a poisonous snake.

Melinda frowned, unsure of what he was talking about, but soon found herself gripping the edge of the table as Ginny's eyes widened and she moved her chair back from the table.

“And to Healer McKinny, as a friendly warning about what she may be dealing with in getting involved with a Weasley, we present this gift,” Fred continued, pulling a small package out of his pocket and carrying it to his father. Setting it down, he pulled out his wand and un-shrunk it. It was large, very large, and was pushing plates off the table.

Bill, being quicker than the rest, managed to save the plates and floated them gently into the sink before turning back to watch the show.

Charlie was staring at Melinda, his eyes narrowed. Ginny covered her mouth with her napkin and tried desperately to stifle her laughter.

“Go on, then. Unwrap it,” George said encouragingly. “Fred and I have been working on it for a few days now.”

Touched by the gesture, but cringing at what the twins may have thought up for a gift, Arthur had no choice. He unwrapped the package slowly, delaying the inevitable. Tearing away the last bit of paper, he stared down at the enormous book for a moment before the title registered.

The Complete Chronicles of Contraceptive Charms

And

The Illustrated Guide to Sexually Pleasuring Your Witch



Combined by Fred and George Weasley and gifted to their father, Arthur Weasley, on the occasion of his promotion to Deputy Minister.

Not happy with that, the twins had set the title in large, red, blinking letters, ensuring that every eye in the room was drawn to the book.

While the twins beamed with pride, Bill snickered. Arthur shoved wrapping paper over the book, hiding the title as best he could, then buried his face in his hands.

Charlie stood, scowling. “I don't understand.”

“You don't?” Fred asked, surprised.

“Perhaps Dad will let you borrow his book then, to study up,” George quipped.

“That's not what I meant,” Charlie all but growled. “What has Healer McKinny to do with your bloody gift?”

Seeing Melinda's embarrassment and his father's discomfort, Bill stood. “I don't think it's any of our business, actually.”

“Of course it's our business,” Charlie spat. “He's our father and he happens to have a wife!”

“Ex-wife,” Ginny reminded him.

“Aye, ex-wife, and she likely the cause! Where's your husband, Mrs. McKinny?”

Her face pale, Melinda raised cool eyes to meet Charlie's. “He's dead, Mr. Weasley.”

The quiet statement silenced the room quicker than any shout for calm could have. Into the silence, a quiet, angry voice was heard.

“You will apologize to Mrs. McKinny,” Arthur said, his eyes boring into this son's.

“I won't. Her husband's death gives her no right to break up a marriage,” Charlie retorted, still glaring at the Healer.

“I divorced your mother months before I met Melinda, and you'll not accuse her of such a foul thing again. Now, apologize, or leave my house.” Father and son stared at each other, while the other Weasley's looked on in shock.

“Enough,” Melinda stood, her hands trembling and her complexion still pale, though her voice was firm. “I will not come between a father and his son. Mr. Weasley, should your leg begin to bother you, I suggest going up to the hospital and having another healer tend to it.” She looked at the other family members and smiled shakily. “It was nice to meet you all.”

Turning to Arthur, her smile slipped and she shrugged a bit helplessly. “I'm sorry.”

He pushed away from the table, stood and took her arm. “Come, I'll escort you out.” When she tried to resist, he pulled her closer to his side and began walking towards the front door. There was a scuffling noise behind them, but neither turned back.

At the door, Arthur turned her to face him. “I'm the one who's sorry, Melinda. I should have expected something like this.”

“How could you have?” she asked, not meeting his eyes.

“I know my boys. I knew the twins would do something, though I didn't think it would be this public. And Charlie, well, he's had a hard time accepting the divorce, though I didn't put all the signs together until now. I'm sorry you were caught up in it.”

“I meant what I said, Arthur. I won't come between you and your family.”

“You won't. It's time that my children understand that they do not dictate what I do with my life.”

“But...”

“But nothing. They are adults now and they can like it or lump it. I'm not willing to give up someone who makes me happy just to please them,” he told her fiercely.

When she looked up at him with wide eyes, he smiled and kissed her gently on the cheek. “I'll come by in a few days and we can talk more, alright?”

She nodded. “All right. I'll see you then.”

Back in the kitchen, Bill and Fred had physically restrained Charlie when he'd tried to follow their father to the door. After wrestling him into his chair, he relaxed only after they threatened to immobilize him if he didn't.

“How long has this been going on?” he ground out, glaring at his siblings.

“Dunno,” Bill said. “This is the first I've heard of it, though I'm not surprised. Dad's a young man. There's no reason he shouldn't date.”

“No reason!' Charlie exclaimed.

“No reason at all,” Fred said, leaning back against the counter and glaring at this older brother.

“Things have changed, Charlie. You'd be better off accepting than fighting it,” George added.

“Or you can leave,” Ginny said. “After all, you haven't made much of an effort to fit in here, have you? It's almost as if you're here to...” Her eyes narrowed as she trailed off.

“Here to what?” Charlie asked her furiously. “See my family? Make sure they're safe?”

When no one said any thing, his hands balled into fists. “Am I the only one who sees something wrong with this situation? Dad divorces Mum and takes up with some little slut who's young enough to be his daughter?”

The slap caught Charlie off guard and his eyes swung to his enraged sister in shock.

“Don't you EVER say something like that again. She saves you from lead poisoning and you call her a slut? What an ungrateful piece of shit you've become!”

When Charlie stood and raised his hand to strike her, Bill, Fred and George all drew their wands, though they need not have bothered.

Ginny, seeing her brother's intention, instinctively raised both hands, palms out. Light burst forth from her upraised hands and struck Charlie in the chest, causing him to double over in pain. She grabbed him by the hair and forced his head up and his eyes to meet hers.

“Never threaten me or anyone else in Haven. Brother or no, I'll not stand for it,” she told him quietly. “Things have changed, Charlie. Accept that, or leave. Those are your only options.”

She let him go and stepped back. The twins and Bill moved to stand beside her and they all waited for Charlie's answer.

He glared at them for a moment and remembered Dumbledore's warning about the possibility of his family being under some dark, controlling magic, and realized he may have just found the proof of it. His sister was much more powerful than she'd ever been, or even shown any hint of being, and his brothers did not look surprised by her abilities. Unwilling to be forced from Haven, he swallowed his rage and looked at his feet.

“I guess I have no choice,” he said quietly. “It's just that things have changed so quickly for me.”

Bill sighed, put a hand on Charlie's shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze. “We know that. We'll help you as much as possible, but you really should apologize to both Dad and Melinda. In truth if they are dating then this was date number two or three Charlie.”

“Do you think she'd accept it? I know Dad will, but I don't know the healer very well,” Charlie admitted, raising his head only after he was sure he had his expression under control.

“Oh sure, she's a nice one, she is,” Fred told him.

“And she'll be good for Dad, you'll see,” George added.

Ginny said nothing, only continued to watch Charlie closely. He was lying, she knew it. She just couldn't figure out why, or what he was lying about.



* * *



Haven School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (May 27th)...

Minerva rubbed the bridge of her nose tiredly and looked down at the pile of parchments on her desk. NEWT's and OWL's were over for the fifth and seventh year's, but the other students were still finishing up end of year assignments. She wasn't looking forward to the grading that still needed to be done and was trying to find an excuse to put off her own routine paperwork as Headmistress.

Finding nothing to distract her, she slipped her glasses back on and reached towards the pile, but froze when a knock sounded on her door. Looking up, she breathed a silent thank you to whomever was looking out for beleaguered Headmistresses.

“Come!” she called, firmly shoving her paperwork away from her.

The door squeaked open and Millicent Bulstrode slipped into the office. Minerva smiled as the young woman shut and locked the door, then cast a silencing charm.

“Miss Bulstrode, it's good to see you.”

“Hello, Professor. I'm sorry to interrupt, but there's something I need to talk to you about,” Millicent said as she approached the desk and sat down in the chair McGonagall waved her towards.

“Nonsense. To be truthful, I was hoping someone would come along and save me from the drudgery of routine paperwork. What can I do for you?”

“I have a bit of a problem, Ma'am. School will let out soon, and I need to find a reason to stay here.”

Minerva frowned. “Stay? Are you having problems at home, my dear?”

“Oh, it's nothing like that, Professor,” Millicent replied, leaning forward a bit in her chair. “It's just that Palmer and Joyner will be staying at the school this summer, won't they? Neither has family in Haven, so they really have no place else to go.”

“They and several other students will be staying here at the school over the summer, yes. Oh! I see what you're getting at. It would be difficult for you to keep an eye on them if you're off in Haven, wouldn't it?”

Millicent nodded, the relief in her eyes evident. “I'll need a good reason to stay behind, Professor. Not just for the students, you understand, but for my family, as well.”

“You've not told your family what you're doing, then?” Minerva asked, concerned.

“Of course not. The fewer to know a secret, the more likely it is to stay one,” Millicent said firmly.

McGonagall's lips twitched. “I see Slytherin is still alive and well.” When the young woman began to bristle, Minerva waved a hand towards her and made a tsking sound. “That wasn't an insult, Miss Bulstrode. Slytherin had many fine qualities that most in that house let fall by the way in recent years, discretion being one of them, as I believe Mr. Longbottom pointed out at our last meeting.

Now, a good reason to keep you here over the summer.” Minerva leaned back in her chair. “It just so happens,” she said, her eyes falling on the stack of paperwork awaiting her attention, “that I am in need of an assistant. Your transfiguration scores are high enough to warrant the position and I really could use the help.”

“Thank you, Professor. I never expected something like this, but it's perfect. And certainly more pleasant than what I feared I may have to do to stay,” Millicent said enthusiastically.

“Tell me that after helping to grade first year transfiguration essays.” Minerva's eyes danced. “Well, now that we've settled that,” she continued, “I'll just write up a request to your parents for your assistance this summer. Have them sign it, then return it to me and we'll be set.”



* * *



Padfoot Manor (May 29th)...

Harry and Remus walked into the study, both were engaged in an animated discussion. The rest of the room was filled with members of the Brotherhood and a few key people whom Harry considered essential. Luna and Ginny both wore exhausted smiles on their faces. Today had been their last OWL and, once it had been completed, the two girls had rushed back to their dorms, packed and moved their stuff to the Manor. Neither had any intention of staying at the school any longer than necessary. Minerva had grudgingly gave her consent to the move.

Remus sat in a chair up near the front of the room while Harry stood, surveying everyone present and considering what he was about to say. In one corner of the room Eocho misted into view. He nodded at Harry and stood watching carefully.

“Thank you all for coming. Before I begin... Luna? Ginny? You two get everything moved alright?”

Both girls nodded happily at Harry. That they were tired was obvious, but Neville and Draco would take care of them later.

Harry smiled in reply. “Good enough, then. Now, we've all been running around without any real direction for nearly a month and that has to stop.”

He waited while a murmur rippled through the room. “Eocho is teaching one person from each couple to commune. He tells me that with a little luck, that process should be done soon. In the meantime, each person should be starting to teach their partner. This is critical. Everyone needs to learn this skill.

“Once everyone can commune, Eocho will pass knowledge to each person. For example, he will teach me fighting techniques, which I will pass to everyone. From what I understand, Eocho can transfer knowledge to a person, but it's a dangerous process and can only be done once to each person. So while I learn the combat magics of the Brotherhood, I have to learn the Rune Magic the old fashioned way. Each of us will become a teacher to the rest. Hermione will learn Druidic Rune Magic. From what I understand, it's very different from what was taught in Ancient Runes. Once she knows that, she will teach it to the rest of us.

“Luna, Eocho says he wants to teach you something called Large Field Magics. It's some sort of derivative of Rune magic and warding, I think. You'll teach that to us once you've absorbed what Eocho has given you.”

Harry glanced over at Luna and she nodded with a dreamy smile. Inwardly, he shuddered when he considered the concept of Luna teaching anything.

“Some of us will work as couples. For example, we'll take Dan and Emma and Terry and Susan. Susan and Terry will work with Amelia, coordinating the Ministry and the Brotherhood's efforts. And because the Brotherhood has to work within the confines of the both the Wizarding and Muggle worlds, Dan and Emma will work towards bringing it up to modern standards as an organization.”

Terry looked up in surprise, then he gave Harry a tight grin. He had been a bit upset when he learned that the Brotherhood meant he'd have to drop out of Auror training, but this sounded even more interesting in the long run, and it had the added advantage of working closely with Susan and her aunt.

Harry nodded at Terry, then turned his attention back to the others. “Draco tells me he's getting swamped. Ginny, you'll be helping him, along with Tonks. Tonks will be taking over the Elves from Draco so he can concentrate on the pure intelligence aspects of his job. Tonks, you'll also be working with Miles so that he understands what we represent.”

Dan Granger frowned for a moment. “Just what do we represent, Harry?”

“That's a good question, so let me explain exactly what we are. The Brotherhood has a long and distinguished history that we are only now becoming aware of through Eocho's teachings. But in our current situation we will be the ones to deliver justice to Voldemort. After the war, the Brotherhood will become a living entity. Members can remain active after Voldemort's defeat, or be placed on inactive duty, but the Brotherhood will always remain for one purpose. We are arbiters for justice. Remus and I have talked extensively with Eocho about this. The Brotherhood has a defined role in times of peace to lead by example.

“The Brotherhood isn't about a lifelong commitment to an organization, it's about a lifelong commitment to the ideals of justice. In Eocho's time. justice was more brutal than it is today, but the ideals are the same. Our primary job after Voldemort is to modernize the Brotherhood and bring it into line with modern values,” he said, shooting an apologetic look towards Eocho.

Eocho crossed his arms and scowled at Harry for a moment before nodding for him to continue.

“Some of us will be right in the thick of the fighting, others will be a little further back. All of us need to learn to fight and protect each other. That's why everyone will be learning the fighting techniques and combat magics, as well as the healing magics. The Aurors that Miles is training? They have the job of weakening Voldemort's machine. You all have the job of covering my back while I take on old snake face.”

Harry stopped and looked at his friends and family expectantly.

Terry looked up from whispering in Susan's ear. “Harry, I'm not trying to make waves but do we want the Brotherhood to coordinate with the Ministry so openly?”

Harry shrugged. “The Brotherhood isn't a secret organization, Terry. While some of our operations may be secret, the existence of the Brotherhood isn't going to remain a secret, nor should it. After Voldemort, we will be extremely public in what we do. It can't be helped. Bringing down Voldemort will push us all into the spotlight. Part of what Dan and Emma will be doing is planning on taking advantage of that publicity. We can't prevent future Dark Lords from arising, but we can take steps to make it harder. That's going to be one of our primary goals.”

“This is a thing most strange,” offered Eocho in a heavy tone. “The code by which we lived must change. I like not the reason for it, but Dan hath told me about the powers of the muggles. In my day, they didst not have such power. Or such numbers. The Maglios is correct, we must needs change our laws to meet the present day, but we mustn't forget from whence we came.”

Harry gave Eocho a respectful bow. “We are trying, honored teacher. The gulf between your time and ours is great, but we can bridge it. I know it in my heart.”

He glanced down when Hermione placed a hand on his arm, but she was looking at Eocho.

“Honored teacher,” she said in a soft tone, “we all pledge to do our best for the Brotherhood, and make you proud of us.”

Eocho looked at her for a moment. He moved to stand closer to fireplace. “It is ever thus with new initiates, my daughter. Now other tasks await thee this day,” he said, fading from view.

“I am never going to get used to that,” quipped Emma Granger.

“Magic,” snickered her husband.

Emma shot Dan a disgusted look. “I'm getting tired of you using that as an excuse for everything these days. It rains, you blame it on magic. I lose a shoe, you blame it on magic.”

The two ignored the others around them, while everyone else watched with a fair amount of amusement. Hermione grinned at her father, she knew he was teasing her mother. She felt a tug at her blouse and she looked at a worried Harry.

“Is that going to be us in twenty years?” he asked in a concerned whisper.

She realized that Harry was misreading her parents playful bickering. He didn't have many role models for a successful relationship and was interpreting her parents teasing for a fight. She shook her head and smiled at him to ease his concern.

“They aren't fighting, Harry,” she whispered back.

Harry glanced over in time to see Emma wave her wand, tying Dan's shoelaces together.

“If you say so,” he said dubiously.

Hermione looked at Harry's concerned face and broke into a fit of laughter. Dan retaliated by changing Emma's comfortable trainers into calf high combat boots.

“Ha! Magic!” Dan chortled, grinning at his daughter who he thought was laughing along with him.

Harry shook his head. “I have other meetings to attend to today before tonight's town meeting.”

With that he stood, leaned down and kissed Hermione on the cheek, then left the room and two ex-dentists turned enthusiastic wizards.



* * *



The Ministry in Exile, Haven...

Amelia leaned back in her plush chair and contemplated how opulent her office was compared to her old office as head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. The office wasn't nearly as plush and opulent as what Cornelius had put together, but it was more comfortable than she was used to dealing with. Harry and Bertrand Lovegood had insisted on making it this way. Bertrand called it an 'image issue', and Harry just felt she deserved something more than that spartan office she had set up in the Operations center.

She glanced out the window of her new office, looking into the main square of the town of Haven. It had been decided to relocate the Ministry in Exile to the town, away from the Operations Center, which would remain under the Fidelius charm along with the manor house. The new, three story brick building had been built in record time, thanks in part to the large number of elves assisting in the building. The new building was located next to the town hall, and the new Gringotts branch.

She was about to reach for another report stacked neatly in her in-box when a head appeared in the doorway.

“Mr. O'Dalley is here, Minister. He apologizes for not letting you know in advance, but he asks for a moment of your time,” said the young woman.

Amelia dropped the report gratefully back in her in-box and waved to the young woman to send O'Dalley in.

“Michael! Come in, have a seat. I admit I wasn't expecting you until later tonight when we held the town meeting, but I'm always happy to see you.” She stood and shook his hand before he sat down.

“Yes, well, I have sort of an interesting request for information from my government, Madam Minister.”

Amelia arched an eyebrow at his formal tone. Taking her seat behind her desk, she straightened in her chair. “How can we be of service?”

O'Dalley leaned back in his chair and looked somewhat embarrassed. “It's two requests, actually. As you are aware, our own intelligence service believes that Voldemort managed to put over a hundred Death Eaters into Northern Ireland before Lord Potter erected his ward. Unfortunately, we are drawing a blank in finding them. Our boys are a little too well known by the local criminal element, which makes it nearly impossible to do any kind of undercover operation...”

Amelia nodded and jotted down a few notes on a pad, then she looked up. “So you're hoping to borrow one or two of our lads for an undercover operation?”

O'Dalley nodded vigorously. “Yes, although to be honest, if possible, we'd really like to borrow Ms. Tonks. Other volunteers would be welcome, but her metamorph abilities are without peer. There are so few metamorphs to start with and, of those, even fewer still go into law enforcement. Ms. Tonks would be ideal for this operation.”

Amelia frowned. “Now that is a bit of a problem, Michael. Nymphadora Tonks is still listed in our Auror ranks, but she's on permanent detached duty to Lord Potter and his Brotherhood of Druidic Knights. We can ask her, but I am no longer able to consider myself her superior and order her on an assignment.”

“That's what I told my boss, Madam Minister, but I was told to make the request official,” O'Dalley said seriously. Amelia nodded. She understood that the Death Eaters in Northern Ireland posed a serious threat to the Irish Government and they were understandably nervous about them.

“Let me send her a message asking her to join us if she can, Michael. Then you can present your request in person,” offered Amelia.

O'Dalley smiled in agreement, as this was much more than he expected to get out of this meeting.

Amelia scribbled a note and called for an elf to deliver the message, then she turned back to O'Dalley.

“You said you had two requests?” she prompted.

“Yes, this one comes from several departments. It seems there have been a few public sightings of someone resembling Albus Dumbledore. Most notably he has been spotted in Cork and in Stonewall Lane.”

Amelia scowled.

“My government requests clarification of why Albus Dumbledore is not assisting your efforts.”

“Albus Dumbledore is wanted by the British Ministry in regard to a number of charges. He may have once been the leader of the light, but he has fallen from that path,” Amelia said stiffly.

“Wanted!” exclaimed O'Dalley.

Amelia nodded grimly. “Dumbledore is wanted for theft, conspiracy, and a host of other charges, mostly perpetrated against Lord Potter. I will be honest with you, Michael, it was only my promise to Harry Potter that has kept Harry from killing Dumbledore. I intend to see Albus Dumbledore prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

“When Harry learned of the scope of what Dumbledore had done to him, he was very angry. Had I not promised to investigate the case, Dumbledore would be dead, Potter would be in Azkaban and Voldemort would be now be working on taking over the rest of the world,” Amelia finished softly.

O'Dalley expression was troubled. It was like learning that Father Christmas was really an arsonist. “Madam Minister, would you be willing to share at least some of the evidence you have against Dumbledore with us? You must understand. From our position, we have no knowledge of these charges, and he did kill the last Dark Lord. Only this morning my own Minister was touting the public relations coup that could be had if Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore were working together.”

Amelia nearly choked at the thought of Harry and Albus in the same room, let alone working together! Scowling, she realized the request was not only valid, it was necessary. “I will make our evidence available to you and someone in your prosecutor's office. It is also my intent, since he seems to be roaming about your country, to formally inform your Government of his fugitive status.”

Amelia glanced up as the door opened to admit Tonks and she waved the younger woman to a chair rather tiredly.

Turning back to O'Dalley, she continued. “We are not requesting that you pick him up just yet, Michael. If you could keep an eye on his movements for now however, we would be appreciative. Right now we simply do not have any place to put him. And considering what happened the last time someone tried to arrest him, I doubt that your men would be able to take him without a lot of help.”

O'Dalley nodded and made a note in a small notebook.

“Dumbledore's finally shown up?” asked Tonks quietly.

Amelia nodded.

“Lord, don't let Harry find out,” murmured Tonks and Amelia's lips tightened.

“Just what did he do to Lord Potter?” asked O'Dalley.

Tonks turned to face O'Dalley. “Michael, there isn't enough time in the day to go into it all. But Albus Dumbledore was the one who decided what happened to Harry after his parents were killed. He circumvented his parents will and recorded wishes and placed Harry into an abusive environment, all the while systematically stealing money every year from Harry's trust vault.

“Harry arrived at Hogwarts knowing nothing about magic and having been physically and mentally abused. He has worked hard to rise above the legacy of his childhood and I think he's succeeded, to a large extent, but I think he'll spend the rest of his life healing from the experience. Dumbledore was responsible for that and other things that happened to him after he started attending Hogwarts.

“When I first learned about it, I wanted to lead the team that would have arrested him. But Amelia instead decided I would more useful by helping Harry.”

Amelia watched the two. She knew that Tonks would go far if she stayed in Government service, but she also knew that the younger woman had broken one of the cardinal rules of law enforcement - she started to care about her charge until she turned from bodyguard to big sister. Amelia didn't really hold it against Tonks. She was, after all, still young, only six years older than Harry himself, and she was legally his guardian. There was also a certain undefinable aspect about Harry that pulled at a person's heart.

“Yes, well, now that we've talked about Dumbledore, let's discuss why I sent for you, Tonks,” Amelia interrupted. “Michael has something he'd like to ask you. I informed him that you're on permanent detached duty, and therefore I couldn't order to you take a new assignment. So Michael? It's your question,” she said with a grin.

O'Dalley nodded and proceeded to lay out the problem for Tonks and what the Irish Government would like to do about. He also laid out, in greater detail, what they'd like Tonks to do, supplying her with information he hadn't told Amelia.

When he was finished, he sat back and waited.

Tonks sat in her chair, thinking hard. It would mean putting off some of the training she would be doing for the Brotherhood. On the other hand, all they were asking for her to do was find the Death Eaters, then get out and let them know where they were hiding.

“I'm going to give you a tentative yes, Michael. I need to clear it with both Harry and Remus, but I don't think there will be any real problem,” she said thoughtfully. “Harry, in particular, will recognize the importance of finding these Death Eaters, especially with the wards coming down tomorrow.”

O'Dalley grinned, the relief evident in his expression. They had been searching for the Death Eaters for a month and had come up empty handed. Tonks and her abilities should help matters.

Tonks excused herself and left the office to return to the manor house. Both Amelia and O'Dalley watched her go before O'Dalley stood to take his leave.

“Michael,” Amelia said softly before he had reached the door. O'Dalley turned in surprise.

“Nymphadora Tonks is an extremely valuable agent and asset of my government, but even more importantly, Harry Potter loves her like she's his big sister. Please make sure you take all possible precautions to bring her back safely. If anything happens to her, you'll be the one that will have to tell him and Remus both.”

O'Dalley swallowed nervously and nodded his understanding. “We'll do out best, Amelia, and pray that Lady Luck is on our side for the operation.”



* * *



Parliament Building, London...

Lucius Malfoy was pacing in his office. It had been surprisingly easy to gain control of the country. Keeping control was another matter. There were reports of food riots and uprisings from all over the country and the military was using every man they had trying to keep things under control. There had also been a massive influx of wizards rushing to Voldemort's banner, but that slowed to a trickle after the Irish Ministry released details on the Line of Death Potter had put on the country.

Lucius paused in his pacing and stopped to shake his head. The amount of power required to ward an entire country! It both astounded and frightened him. Not for the first time did he wonder if he had made a mistake in joining Voldemort. His own son had joined forces with Potter and, if rumors were to be believed, was becoming a force to be reckoned with in his own right. That he lost Narcissa as well only angered him. She was lousy in bed, a cold, frigid woman. There had never been any love between the two of them, and as Lucius progressed in his passion for Voldemort's cause, all feelings for Narcissa died away. She was merely a brood mare to sire his heir off of.

Someday, he'd have the pleasure of killing her slowly, maybe while Draco watched. Then he'd kill Draco for defying the master.

Glancing down at his desk, he spotted the letter from Dolohov, who was safely outside of England. Lucius wasn't sure whether he should be envious of him or not. Dolohov reported that he was holding his men close to their base and keeping their efforts to a minimum for the moment. Sooner or later he'd have to report Dolohov's actions to the master, but he thought he'd wait a day or two longer in the hope that Dolohov would have something more positive to report.

A knock at the door tore him away from his thoughts.

“Come!”

The door opened and a Death Eater entered the room. The man smiled expectantly at Malfoy, who had no patience for his games today.

“Well Hammersmith? I haven't got all day, you know.”

The man paled. “Sir, I have someone I would like you to meet. We found him hiding,” he said, then he waved to a man at the door. Two men entered. Between them they dragged a very frightened Dudley Dursley.

“My Lord, I have the pleasure of introducing you to Dudley Dursley, formerly of Little Winging, Surrey,” said Hammersmith proudly.

Malfoy grinned broadly. “Dudley Dursley? Where did you find him?”

“He was hiding out in a food mart in Dorking, my Lord.”

Lucius nodded. “Very well, leave him to me for now. Dudley and I need to have a little chat.”

The two men holding Dudley unceremoniously dropped him and he fell to the floor with a groan. Lucius stepped around his desk, one hand holding his wand. He eyed the rotund youth who lay panting on the floor.

“I'm pleased to see you're still alive, Dudley,” Lucius in a deceptively calm tone.

Dudley looked up at Lucius, loathing filled his eyes as he spotted the wand. “Bugger off, you fucking freak!” he spat. “I don't talk to your kind.”

Lucius smiled thinly. “Ah, but I'm afraid you really have no choice, my boy. You see, I have plans for you which require you to be alive, and cooperative. I wanted to use your father, or even your mother, but unfortunately neither of them survived their prolonged lockup without food and water.”

Dudley growled deep in the back of his throat and he lunged up from the floor, only to collapse once again under the effects of the Cruciatus curse.

Lucius allowed the curse to linger for a few seconds, then he released the boy. “Now then, let me explain the facts of life to you, boy. You have your life, for now... If you do not do what I tell you, you will lose even that. There are methods I could use to control you, but they are detectable by wizards.”

Dudley groaned on the floor and looked up at the pale blond wizard, his expression one of terror.

“Do as you are told, boy and you will be rewarded. Fail... and you'll spend your days screaming in more pain than you can imagine.”

“I'll do anything,” whimpered Dudley from the floor.

“Yes, I think you will. I can't imagine how a sniveling worm like yourself could be related to Potter. Well, no matter, we'll get you squared away,” Lucius said, then he turned back to his desk.

“Hammersmith!” he yelled. A moment later the door opened and the wizard entered the room again.

Lucius looked at the wizard for a moment, then he grinned maliciously. “Take this muggle out and see that he's trained to do what we discussed...” Lucius said in a harsh tone.

Hammersmith nodded eagerly and gestured for the two men waiting in the doorway to pick up Dudley. When he turned to follow them from the room, Lucius stopped him.

“One moment, Hammersmith. I know you enjoy using the Cruciatus curse. Feel free to use it in training him. But I want him alive and sane! If you damage him, I'll see you get kissed,” Lucius said with a sneer.

The man paled and bowed low. “Yes, my Lord.” he replied shakily, backing from the room.

Lucius sat in his lush chair and leaned back comfortably. Yes, life as the number two man to a Dark Lord is good enough for me , he thought. He could finally put his plan in motion to get Harry Potter. The master would reward him well.



* * *



Harry's study, Padfoot Manor...

Harry shook his head and threw down the parchment on the desk. He knew it was his job to kill Voldemort, but every time someone wanted a decision about something, they were sending him requests. No one ever told him that being the supposed savior of the Wizarding world required drowning in a sea of paperwork!

The door to the study opened, admitting Dan and Emma, followed by Remus and Tonks. He scowled at them. It was petty, it was childish, and he knew it. It even annoyed him that their interruption was annoying!

“Uh oh, I know that look,” murmured Remus.

“What look?” asked Tonks.

“That look,” exclaimed Remus, pointing at Harry. “Note the eyebrows pushed together, the narrowing of the eyes and the tightness around the lips? That's James' annoyed look.”

The four stood there snickering as Harry slowly relaxed after deciding it wasn't worth the effort to kill them all.

“So what has you all upset, cub?” asked Remus after he stopped chuckling.

“This!” Harry said in exasperation and he pointed at the in-box filled with papers. “Look at this stuff! For some reason everyone seems to think I'm the one to make the decision on all this!” he exclaimed, then he pulled some papers from the pile. “Look, Miles asking for more appropriations to cover the expense of reinforcing the walls of the test area used by Fred and George. Oh, and here's a request from Minerva asking if it's alright to include the school in an inter-school Quidditch tournament the Irish run every year. She wants to know if next year would be alright with me! Here's another from Olga Johansen reminding me that I haven't shown up to any of the weekly dances, and she says a nice boy like myself... argh!!! She knows I'm engaged!”

Tonks doubled over laughing and Harry shot her a venomous look. He thought seriously of shrinking her clothing down to nothing right there in front of Dan and Emma, but decided against it.

He shook his head angrily and stood up.

Remus raised his hands, “Easy, cub. It's just paperwork that's gone to you when it shouldn't have. I thought I had stopped most of it from getting through.”

“Harry, what you need is an administrative assistant. Most of this is too trivial for even Remus to deal with,” offered Emma.

“An assistant?” echoed Harry.

“Yes, someone to look through the papers that do reach you and decide which you need to deal with personally and which you can defer to someone like Amelia,” Dan said, then he paused for a moment before adding, “In fact, I think that Hermione would be pleased as punch if you asked for her help in organizing this stuff.”

“But she's busy with her research,” protested Harry.

“Only because you haven't asked her for her help. This isn't a full time job, after all. She could do it for you every morning with time to spare,” Dan replied smugly.

“Just how is this stuff getting to you, Harry?” asked Remus. He had been intercepting Harry's owls so he knew it wasn't arriving that way. The only owl that went to Harry directly was Hedwig.

“Elves, Remus. Every morning they deliver these requests and reports to me.”

Remus frowned. “Elves? Well, point of fact, that's why we're here. We need to talk about the elves.”

Harry winced. “Great. Look, before you rope me into anything new, I think I'll ask Hermione to join us. The last thing I want to do is make any decision about the elves without her input.”

Emma leaned towards Dan. “He's learning quicker than you did,” she said softly. Dan shot her a grin while Harry scribbled off a note. He summoned a house elf who immediately saluted him upon arrival. Harry groaned inwardly, but he returned the salute and handed the note to the elf to give to Hermione. Then he turned back to Dan.

“Do you know one of the elves called me Brigadier the other day? I know you didn't mean for this to get so out of hand, but the elves are running around bestowing ranks on people. Hermione's a colonel!” he said, throwing up his hands.

Dan smiled smugly. “I always knew she'd do well!”

Harry's eyes narrowed as he examined his future father in law. “She will, despite hanging out with me. You, on the other hand, I'm not so sure about. Especially if I have my way. The blasted elves are confusing the wizards in town. They just aren't used to military elves!”

“Who is?” Tonks murmured, a bit too loudly.

As Remus tried to subdue his snickering, Harry smiled sweetly at his guardian and asked if she wanted another new wardrobe.

The debate over clothing size was cut short when Hermione and Eocho entered the room. Harry blinked in surprise, then he stood. “Honored Teacher, I apologize for disturbing your lesson with Hermione, but I need her advice concerning an issue with the elves.”

“I understand, Maglios. Thy mate has a keen intellect and it would be churlish of me to deny her advice to thee on such important matters. Might I stay and observe? The situation of the elves intrigues me, as we had no such relationships in my time,” said Eocho.

“I would be honored to have your advice, as well,” Harry replied formally.

Harry and the others had tried on several occasions to see if Eocho would respond to a more casual tone of conversation, but he appeared reluctant to do so.

Hermione took a chair next to Harry's desk and looked around. “Remus, I believe you were about to tell us about some problem with the elves that doesn't have anything to do with their military bearing?”

“It's really simple, Harry. With the exception of the Hogwarts elves, who are bound to the school, and Winky, who's bound to Hermione, all of the other elves are not bound to anyone or any thing. This means that the usual strictures about keeping our secrets doesn't apply. It also means that an elf like Kreacher could conceivably come to work here, causing similar harm.”

He scowled at Remus, but said nothing. He knew where Remus was heading with this conversation and he had decided that he was going to defer to Hermione on any issue concerning the house elves.

Harry turned to Hermione. She noticed his glance and winced inwardly. Her bonding with Winky had turned her from a depressed, drunken elf into a vivacious, friendly little creature. She had had several heart to heart conversations with the little elf and had come to realize that house elf bondage needn't be a cruel thing, and it was, in many ways, beneficial to the elves.

She was about to make a comment when Remus jumped on Harry because of his glance.

“Harry, this is important. I realize that you want Hermione's input on this issue, but we can't afford to wait while she decides if house elf servitude is morally acceptable,” he said in a chastising tone.

Harry blinked in surprise and Hermione bounced from her chair in anger. “That's unfair, Remus! As much as I despise the slavery of the elves, I've learned it doesn't need to be a cruel thing. If bonding the elves will save us, and them, then let's bond them.”

Tonks nudged Remus. “Maybe we should get Winky a gift for changing Hermione's mind,” she said with a wide grin.

Hermione glared daggers at Tonks while Harry stared at his girlfriend in disbelief. Hermione looked at him and sighed. “Oh, really Harry. It's a girl's prerogative to change her mind, you know.”

“Change your mind about the color of a room, or about what to serve our guests, yes. But something as altering as a fundamental belief?” Harry asked stupidly.

Hermione narrowed her eyes and stared at him. Emma leaned over to Dan. “That was a really bad move on his part.” she said, loud enough to be heard.

“I'd say so. But it was quite profound, nonetheless,” he agreed. Emma narrowed her eyes and stared hard at Dan.

Tonks leaned towards Remus, but before she could say anything, Remus held up a hand to stop her. “Don't say it, Tonks. This is one fight we're not joining in on.”

Harry glanced at Tonks and Remus and started to laugh, then Hermione followed suit, a moment later her parents were also laughing. Tonks was still pouting over the lost opportunity.

“Alright,” said Harry. “If we have to bond them, I think we should first offer to allow any elf to bond to any family who's willing accept them in Haven. After that, I'll accept some and suggest that each family take a few to help with their properties. Those that are left over maybe we'll bind to the town?” he asked, looking at Remus for confirmation.

Remus nodded.

“But Harry, most of us don't own any properties,” protested Emma.

“Not now, perhaps. But the war won't last forever and I can practically guarantee that will change,” he replied smugly. Hermione glanced at him sharply. He knew something and wasn't telling them.

“While I have everyone here, I've been asked by Amelia and the Irish to help their Aurors with an undercover operation,” Tonks said quietly.

“What? When?” asked Remus, surprised and concerned.

“Amelia only asked me about an hour ago, Remy. I told them yes, but that I'd have to clear it with both you and Harry first,” Tonks said meekly, trying to avoid his hurt gaze.

Harry leaned back in his chair thoughtfully, then he reached into drawer and pulled out a small bracelet. “Portus,” he murmured over the bracelet, then he cast several concealment charms on it before standing and walking around his desk to hand it over to Tonks.

“I can't say I like it, but I've learned that sometimes it's necessary to send the people you love into danger. Wear this, don't even let the Irish know you have it. I'll feel better knowing you have a portkey on you at all times and I think Remus will too,” he said seriously.

Remus' eyes were bright with unshed tears and he nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He really didn't want her risking herself like this.

“My child, I will visit thee later this evening. I know of a shield charm thou canst cast without a wand and I will teach it unto thee,” Eocho said solemnly. He had been told about Tonks' job as an Auror and he wholeheartedly approved of it.

Harry and the others shot him a grateful look while she had eyes only for Remus. He looked at her for a long time. “I can't stop you from going on this mission. Tonks, but after we're married, you and I are going to have a long talk about this. I don't want our kids left without a mother because she volunteered for some mission at the Ministry,” he said in a low, husky voice.

Tonks blinked back the tears that appeared in her eyes. “Fine then, I guess you'll just have to set a date if you want that kind of input in my life,” she said with a smirk. Although they were engaged, they had not really given any serious thought to when they wanted to marry.

Remus grinned at her and glanced over at Eocho, who nodded at him with his own smile. “Well, I'm sort of glad you mentioned that. I've been talking with Eocho and he suggests that we take care of that little problem during the festival of Lughnasadh. It took me a while to figure out exactly what and when he was talking about. But we're basically looking at August first to handfast everyone using the Brotherhood rite. I've looked up the history of this particular festival and it is the traditional Celtic time to hold handfastings.”

Harry smiled at Remus and he murmured, “That's a very convenient date.”

Tonks looked at him and frowned. It meant Harry would be of age and he would not have to go to her for permission. Harry returned her look and then turned to Hermione.

“Well, Hermione? Does August first agree with you?” he asked impishly. He just couldn't help grinning.

Hermione looked at her mother, grinning. “Well, Mum? Do you think we can get the gown and the caterer set up in time? That's barely two months away.”

Emma pulled out a small notebook and began to take notes. Then she looked up at her daughter and grinned sheepishly, realizing that Hermione was teasing her when both Dan and Harry broke into laughter.



* * *



Hogwarts Castle...

“Report,” Voldemort said calmly.

The Death Eater groveled for a moment longer, then pulled out a parchment from under his robe.

“My lord, our buyer in the United States claims to have found a dealer capable of obtaining the cauldrons you wanted, as well as several other items. The buyer says he has already purchased two cauldrons in your name and has had them shipped via the usual route. They should arrive within the week.”

“And? Is that all?”

The man scrapped the floor again. “No, my lord,” he stammered. “I have a report from Akers, in which he states that he thinks Lucius may be running several operations that he hasn't received your approval for.”

“Lucius,” sneered Voldemort. “He always was an ambitious bastard, but I know how to keep him in line. Inform Akers to maintain his watch on him and see if he can find out more.”

The Death Eater nodded, then gagged as a particularly foul odor wafted through the Great Hall where Voldemort kept his throne and held his audiences.

Voldemort frowned. “That damned poltergeist! What about the search for a new Necromancer?”

The Death Eater gagged a few more times and he struggled to get himself under control. Peeves had been seeding the castle with rotting meat and other items that were making duty at Hogwarts a hellish job. Several more staircases had collapsed, killing other Death Eaters, and there were no longer any stairs to the Seventh floor. It had to be abandoned entirely when the last staircase collapsed.

“We are trying, my lord,” said the Death Eater. “But we haven't found any in Britain and so far none have answered our calls for a Necromancer from outside the country. We even tried kidnapping the one employed by the French Ministry, but they had an Auror guard on him.”

Voldemort was about to reply when the Hall echoed with the sound of uncontrolled flatulence. Peeves floated across the room mooning the Dark Lord. His pants were down around his knees and he was facing away from the Dark Lord, bent over. Clouds of gas were erupting from his buttocks at high velocity and several Death Eaters started coughing as the clouds hit them.

“Lizard wizard! Got no lips! Got big hips!” shouted Peeves.

Voldemort growled and cast a curse at the pesky poltergeist. The spell hit Peeves square in the ass and he fell to the floor, where his body exploded into a wave of purple goo covering a full third of the hall. The goo steamed and a foul odor wafted through the room.

The Dark Lord screamed in frustration and his fist crashed down on the arm of his chair. He reached out and grabbed a Death Eater by his robe.

“Go out and find me a necromancer or I will skin you alive and use you for a rug!” he growled.

He pushed the terrified Death Eater away from him and scowled at the other assembled servants who were all cowering in their robes. From behind him he heard the sound of a raspberry and he wondered if other Dark Lords had problems like this.



* * *



The Town of Haven...

Charlie Weasley walked slowly up the lane towards the center of the town. He was becoming very frustrated. Everyday his father and Bill vanished into the new Ministry building and the twins disappeared to some place he couldn't find.

And Ginny! He growled softly in his throat as he once again planned to tear apart the boy Ginny was supposed to be marrying sometime this summer. His father had tried to explain things to him, but hadn't done a very good job of it. And what had she hit him with that day in their father's cottage? Her power was unbelievable, and no one had been able to explain it to his satisfaction. Vague details about special training up at the manor with some new teacher hadn't done anything to calm his fears about some outside source controlling his family.

Arthur had downplayed the situation between himself and Molly in an attempt to make Molly look better than she was for Charlie's sake. Bill and the others had planned to pull him aside at a later date and set him straight, but they had been too busy. As a result, Charlie was still left with the feeling of wrongness about the issue, and was sure he was missing some key element his family was hiding from him. With the subtle twisting by Dumbledore, he was sure that element was something dangerous.

Bill was helping Arthur deal with the influx of volunteers due to arrive next week from the United States. Charlie had probed as gently as he could, but neither would confirm the numbers. Rumor, however, had them ranging anywhere from a hundred Aurors and their families to ten thousand crack hit wizards.

He had chuckled at that, and guessed that it was a lot smaller, but there was no denying the fact that there were a large number of house elves working on expanding and adding homes to several of the small roads that branched off the main street in town.

Haven was another frustration for him. Here was a brand new town, full mostly of Wizards, but also containing a small population of Muggles and, for the most part, everyone he had talked to spoke of Harry Potter as if the boy had personally saved them. Of the dozens of people he had asked, only one could honestly say they had spoken with Harry Potter, and yet all of them were convinced he was their hero.

He hoped to find out more tonight at the town meeting. Harry was supposed to come to town to talk about what measures were being taken to ensure their safety now that some of the charms around the town were going to be dropped. It was a big step and people were nervous about it.

Charlie had been sharing his views about Haven with Dumbledore via their notebook. Dumbledore had been very excited to hear the Fidelius charm was going to come down, as it would give him access to the town itself. He had also mentioned Ginny's new abilities, her level of power and the mysterious new teacher up at the manor. Dumbledore had been concerned about it, but knew he could do nothing from a distance, and had advised caution. He had also confessed that he didn't know anyone named Melinda McKinny or what influence she may have on Arthur.

Charlie paused in his ruminations and spun on his heel, but he didn't see anyone behind him. He shook his head and wondered if he was becoming paranoid, or if someone was really following him. Turning back towards town, he continued walking...and never noticed the elf shadowing him.



* * *



Harry's study, Padfoot Manor...

“Remus, Hermione, have either of you ever heard anything about a Chaos cauldron?” asked Harry. Their meeting had covered several other topics since dealing with the Elves and the handfasting, now Harry asked about something he had read of only that morning.

“I can't say that I have,” said Remus. Hermione shook her head.

Harry frowned and rifled through the pile of parchments in his in box. “I know I saw it in here. Ah... here it is. This is a copy of a note sent from the Hogwarts ghosts. As you know, I set them up with a way to be able to send us information about what they might overhear in the castle. Draco and I both get copies of these messages. But this one has me stumped.

“According to the Bloody Baron, the castle is due to receive something called a Chaos Cauldron. Two of them, actually. Also, the ghosts tell me that Snape is being held prisoner in the secondary potions lab where he spent several weeks attempting to make a potion. Miles wanted to know if we wanted to mount a rescue mission to get Snape out of there, but I put a stop to that. With his dark mark we can't get him out of Britain, even if I wanted to rescue him.”

“What does Draco's research department say about this cauldron?” asked Hermione.

Harry blinked in surprise. “Draco has a research department?”

Hermione huffed a few times at him. “Honestly, Harry, he told me he sent you a notice days ago that he was increasing the size of his staff to handle the myriad jobs he has.”

“Funny you should mention that, Hermione,” said Dan. “We were just discussing earlier how you might be able to help Harry by reviewing the papers he's been getting every morning. Most of them he doesn't need to even see. The problem is he's been getting swamped with paperwork.”

Hermione looked surprised and she turned to look at Harry. He looked back a bit sheepishly. “I could use your help with this stuff. Merlin knows you're more organized than I am.”

Her eyes glowed and she grabbed the large stack of parchments in his in box and started to sort through it, shaking her head at some of the requests she was seeing.

Both Emma and Dan chuckled over their daughter's behavior, but she ignored them. Dan turned serious, glancing between Eocho and Harry.

Harry caught the look. “Dan? Is there something else you want to bring up?”

“It's not so much as wanting to bring it up as needing to bring it up. Eocho and I have had many a conversation about modernizing the Brotherhood, but we have one sticking point which bothers me a lot. To put it simply, Eocho and I are on opposite sides of the coin when talking about crime and punishment.”

Harry looked over at Eocho, who nodded in grim agreement. “A dead thief cannot steal again.” he said solemnly in an uncompromising tone.

Everyone in the room winced at Eocho's pronouncement. Sometimes Druidic justice meant victims were buried alive in peat bogs, or hung, or pitted. It was a brutal form of justice at best.

Harry frowned for a moment, then his eyes widened. “Let me see if I have this straight,” he said, turning back to Dan. “Right now, we imprison a thief for however many years depending on the crime committed, right?”

Dan nodded in agreement.

“Our Honored Teacher here advocates a strict form of justice which, by today's standards, is harsh and unworkable in either the Muggle or Wizarding worlds. Correct?”

Both Dan and Eocho nodded.

“Now, neither of you has a problem with the fact that I have to kill Voldemort, and neither of you seems to consider my killing him as a crime. Why is that?”

Dan glanced and Eocho and motioned for him to speak first.

“It is not a crime to be the instrument of justice, Maglios. Thou are compelled to the deed by necessity and by prophecy. Thy foe hast killed for evil purposes and must be stopped at all costs.”

Harry glanced over at Dan who shrugged. “I'll agree with that,” he murmured.

“Alright, we have someone who has killed on numerous occasions and who is obviously deserving to be punished, but is currently beyond the reach of any legal authority who can punish him.”

He paused and watched as everyone thought about what he was saying. He recognized the look on Hermione's face and wasn't surprised to see it echoed on Emma's just a few seconds later.

The silence dragged on for a moment longer. “Then the solution is to ignore the crimes that regular government can deal with and just deal with those people who have moved themselves outside of the law?” asked Tonks in a perplexed tone.

It took another minute as people pondered that thought and Harry watched as they all started nodding.

“Precisely. The Brotherhood will have many roles to fulfill, but serving as judge and executioner should only happen when it's fallen outside of the bounds of regular society. At least, that's how I saw this particular problem,” he said, slightly embarrassed.

“Harry,” Hermione said softly, “don't be embarrassed by that idea. It even took me a moment to catch up to where you were heading with it.” She turned them to look at her father and Eocho. “I'm curious however. How come neither of you thought of that idea?”

Dan and Eocho managed to look suitably embarrassed.

“Sometimes, my daughter, the fight over a thing is more fun than the thing itself,” Eocho said, wrapping the tattered remains of his dignity around himself while Hermione rolled her eyes.



* * *



Haven Town Hall...

Harry walked onto the stage and took a seat near the podium that had been set up. The hall had been expanded magically for tonight's meeting and it looked as though the entire population of Haven was planning on attending. He sat next to Amelia and Ragnok, both of whom looked far more comfortable than he did. He smiled as Michael O'Dalley took a seat next to him.

In the front row sat Hermione, Remus and Tonks and the rest of the Brotherhood. For tonight, Harry had insisted that all of those in the Brotherhood wear their now customary costume of the light tan concealment cloak with the Celtic Cross on the breast. The cloaks had been modified to include a much larger cross on the back. Eocho had not insisted on any sort of costume for the Brotherhood, but he highly approved of the cloaks as part of their formal dress.

Harry stopped daydreaming when Amelia stood and approached the podium. Casting Sonorus on herself, she began to speak. “If every one can please take a seat, we can get started.”

She smiled at several people in the audience while the crowd settled down. “Thank you all for coming here tonight. We called this meeting because we wanted to address some concerns in regard to dropping the Fidelius charm on the town of Haven. Now, before begin, I want to say that the charm will come down tomorrow morning for the entire town only. This does not include the school, Operations Center or the Manor House.”

As the crowed moved restlessly, Harry scowled. His original plan had been to drop the charm on everything but the Manor and the Operations Center, but Millicent's information about the students at the Haven School had necessitated adding the school to the list. It would make it that much harder for those students to cause mischief if they couldn't owl their parents so readily.

His thoughts cut off abruptly as the noise level in the hall rose.

“You people are setting us up as targets for a Death Eater attack!” someone shouted from the back of the hall. Several voices echoed his concern and a number of people stood, shouting back and forth at each other. It was only a matter of time before curses were flying.

Harry frowned. The meeting had barely started and it was already developing towards a full scale riot. He leaned over to O'Dalley. “Signal your men, Michael.”

O'Dalley blinked in surprise at hearing the order so soon, then he nodded in agreement. He waved at his head constable, who smiled grimly and nudged the man next to him. Within moments the lead constable had the attention of his men.

Forty men spread out along the walls of the hall and lifted their wands. As one, they cast the cannon blast spell, which momentarily deafened and silenced everyone in the hall.

Amelia shot a grateful look at O'Dalley and turned back to the crowd. “Now, if you are finished complaining, you can sit down and relax while I explain why this action was necessary and what steps your government has taken in order to ensure your safety.

“First, I will ask Mr. Harry Potter to explain why we needed to drop the charm in the first place.”

Amelia stepped back from the podium and Harry stood. There was a moment of silence, then someone started clapping. Before he could reach the podium, only a few short feet away, the clapping had spread throughout the hall, embarrassing him greatly. He stood at the podium and the sound of the clapping washed over him. Finally, he held up a hand, his expression practically begging people to stop.

Slowly the tumult began to die down. Hermione shot him a comforting look and he tried to relax. He amplified his voice with his wand, then let it slip back into its holster.

“Thank you, my friends. I am not used to speaking in public, so I'll ask you to bear with me. As of this morning, the town of Haven and its school boasted a total of four thousand nine hundred and sixty residents, most of whom are British subjects who have escaped the troubles back home. Haven is a safe harbor from those troubles, but as a town we have failed to achieve one critical thing; a working economy.

“Haven has Ollivanders and Weasley Wizarding Wheezes, although I believe they are closing their shop in order to dedicate their services to taking back our home...” he said, then paused as a ground swell of applause for the Weasley twins surged through the hall. Both twins bounced from their seats and waved wildly to the audience before sitting again. When the applause died down, he continued. “When I invited Gringotts to open a branch office here, it was correctly pointed out that so long as the town remained hidden from the rest of the Irish Wizarding community, we could never achieve a working economy.

“As part of my negotiation's with Gringotts, they have agreed to offer long term, low interest loans to anyone wanting to start up a business here in Haven. They are willing to offer reduced rates on business accounts and business services until your business gets off the ground.

“We have three times the number of people who lived and worked in Hogsmeade, but there isn't a single pub or robe shop or bookstore in Haven. There are dozens of empty storefronts and we have the ability to add dozens more. For those who aren't interested in running their own business, the businesses will be hiring people. So will the Ministry and other industries which will be moving into this area.

“No doubt some of you have heard about the large building being erected behind main street. That building will be the new home of Granger Publications, the only wizarding publishing house that combines wizard and muggle materials. They will be hiring in the next few weeks, as well.”

Harry ignored the stunned looks from Dan, Emma and Hermione. That would be a conversation for later, and not here in front of everyone.

“The charm needs to be taken down so that we can breath life into our town and so that people could find jobs. We aren't taking it down in order to make you targets. Far from it. We have taken extra steps to protect you. I am going to steal a little of Amelia's speech and let everyone here know that a few days ago I placed a line of death around Haven just like the one I put around Britain. No one with a dark mark will survive crossing that line, and no one with a black aura will cross it with becoming truly ill.”

Harry stepped away from the Podium and took his seat. He motioned for Amelia to take over. There was moment of stunned silence followed by another round of thunderous applause.

Amelia stepped up to the podium and amplified her voice again. “Thank you, Mr. Potter. I'd like to remind everyone that afterwards we will open up the floor to a question and answer session, now as to the other steps we have taken in order to ensure everyone's safety...”

Harry tuned Amelia out. He had heard about these steps dozens of times over the last month. He looked out over the hall and had to admit to being impressed by the large number of people. Then, as usual, his eyes sought out Hermione. No matter how much time they spent together, he still searched for her when they were apart. She was the brightest spot in his life and, like a moth to a flame, he was drawn to her. He watched her, calmly listening to Amelia, and thought about how empty his life had been before she'd become a part of it.

Hermione shifted uneasily in her seat for a moment then she turned her head, searching. Spotting Harry, she smiled shyly. There were times when he could look at her and make her feel weak in the knees. He was sitting up on the stage, not really staring, but he was looking at her with his heart in his eyes. He smiled gently at her when she smiled at him. She suppressed the urge to giggle because Harry's look could only be described as moonstruck.

Finally he turned his attention back to Amelia before her parents, or worse, Remus, spotted him staring at her.

The meeting quickly moved onto the question and answer phase. Harry was a bit surprised at how many people asked the same question in different ways, but Amelia stressed that the constabulary wasn't the only resource Haven could call upon if they needed more manpower. The large Auror force from the Ministry Operations Center would be available and, of course, there were the incoming Auror volunteers from the Americas that could help in a pinch, if need be.

One question, however, did catch Harry off guard.

“I saw Albus Dumbledore in Stonewall Lane last week! Why isn't he helping us?” came the shouted question.

Harry paled and resisted the urge to stand. Amelia glance over at him with a calming look.

“At the time of the fall of Britain, the true British Ministry considered Albus Dumbledore a wanted fugitive. He is wanted for questioning on a number of possible criminal charges. Frankly, we were unaware, until today, that he had managed to escape from Britain. But the simple fact is, the man is wanted in connection with a number of crimes. We have informed the Irish Ministry and other Ministries around the world of his fugitive status.”

The hall descended in a murmur as neighbor spoke to neighbor about the great Dumbledore. Muggles, not knowing any better, were filled in by their Wizarding neighbors.

Amelia held up her hands. “I know this comes as a great shock to many, but the evidence we have in this matter will stand up in a court of law. In fact, until Archibald Richfield assumed the post of Minister and gave the country to Voldemort, I was in charge of the investigation against Dumbledore.”

There was a long moment of silence following Amelia's words, then some woman at the back yelled out, “We've still got Potter!”

A collective sigh of relief ran through the audience and it seemed by unanimous approval the meeting was over. People started standing and heading to the food tables that were being filled by the kitchen crew and several dozen house elves.

Amelia glanced warily at Harry, thankful that people hadn't asked for additional clarification on the charges. He sat stonily through the last of her statement, but she could see the anger smoldering behind his eyes. She walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. He glanced up at her curiously.

“I promised you we'd bring him to justice, Harry,” she said softly. “I intend to keep that promise.”

He relaxed a little and nodded. “I know, Amelia. It just caught me off guard. I thought he was part of my past and wouldn't trouble me anymore.”

“We'll try to see he doesn't bother you anymore, Lord Potter,” said O'Dalley. The Irishman, now in charge of the constables of Haven, smiled at Harry, offering his support. Amelia stepped back, releasing his shoulder.

“I think I know exactly what will liven up your mood, Harry, and here she comes now.”

Harry stood and looked at Hermione who stared at him with an expression of worry. He took two steps and embraced her tightly.

“I'm alright, love. It just caught me by surprise, that's all,” he whispered. Then he turned when he heard the sound of music coming from the far end of the hall. A number of elves were clearing away the chairs and a group of towns folk had started playing music. Couples were already taking advantage of the music and the cleared space.

Harry looked back at Hermione and chuckled at her expression. “Perhaps tonight I should get Olga off my back?” he asked with a smile that made her weak in the knees again.

“How so?”

“Let's go dancing,” he said impishly.



* * *



Author's Notes:

TAAAA DAAAA! Once again you've hit the bottom of the file. The end of the line, the last chance for gas. Yes, it's the dreaded Author's notes, which shouldn't be confused with the Author's Noses which is disgusting and snot a nice thing.

To our ONE reviewer complaining that chapter five was too long, we decided to ask some of our other readers. At the time of this writing one hundred and ninety six people responded to our question of “Are the chapters getting to long?”

Zero people responded to the answer of “Yes my brain hurts trying to read so much.”

Ninety Five people responded to the answer of “No, I read War and Peace in a single sitting.”

And one hundred and one people responded to the answer of “I don't care as long as you keep posting.”

There you have it gentle reviewer with the short attention span. The masses seem to have no problems with the size of our chapters. So we're throwing a Bronx cheer out to all those with the short attention spans. And you have our pity. The people have spoken.

No Harry will not be driving an Astin Martin, a BMW or even the ever popular Super Yugo.

We've decided to comment on all those people that think it's cool to leave descriptive reviews consisting entirely of punctuation characters. So here is our comment.

^$%%#^##**@!!!#@^#$##!!@@#$$%__--++!!!!

Enough said.

About the Updateless list. It is my intent to first bitch about all those stories which I happen to like. After I run out I'll be seeking candidates for the list.

For those of you wanting a Harry/Dumbledore face to face rumble, it's coming. First we have to open up Haven so that others can find it.

There seems to be a lot of concern over Charlie and why he's following Dumbledore. Remember that Charlie was found by Dumbledore. He was wounded at the time and seriously exhausted. Dumbledore cared for him and plied him with carefully crafted 'truths'. Some people have trouble believing that he wouldn't be so blindly believing of him. But in our version of the Potterverse he hasn't had everything explained to him, and because Dumbledore got to him first, things are going to see... off to him.

Eventually Harry will learn about Ginny's feelings towards Charlie. But for now it's enough that Draco knows, and that Charlie and Harry haven't been brought in close contact yet.

Fawkes abandoned Dumbledore in Sunset, and no, we will not be seeing Fawkes returning to this story.

Fawkes is currently vacationing in the Disney World Tiki hut where he can be seen in twelve shows daily.

And now....

THE UPDATELESS LIST!

The Cleansed Power by Doreedo.

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2438537/1/

This little three chapter Gem hasn't been updated since September of 05. The author has some really interesting ideas and a concise, easy to read, writing style. Unfortunately The Cleansed Power seems to have run out of steam.





Sunrise Over Britain

Chatper 7 - And so it begins


Standard Disclaimer:

We've run out of Alan Rickman movies. Face it Ladies, he's not exactly a Harrison Ford you know. We thought about having guest appearances from other stars, but we thought people might get confused. So without any further explanation from us. We proudly present Alan Rickman on Ice!

A spotlight appears in the center of the ice rink and a solitary figure shakily skates up to stand in the center of the spotlight.

“Ahem... The authors of this story have invited me to sing the national anthem...”

The figure paused as someone whispered something at him from beyond the light.

“Oh... alright. The authors of this miserable excuse for literature beg to remind you oh magnificent readers who have access to donuts and refuse to share, that they do not own anything relating to Harry Potter. They further ask that I remind you all that Harry is currently single and perhaps gay in canon having dropped a hot red head for the silliest of reasons...”

Alan stopped in mid-sentence and looked in consternation as a herd of Elephants started sliding towards him on the ice.

“Help!” he gurgled before being hit by a sliding pachyderm.

The spotlight swung wildly and settled on Harry holding the gates to the ice open while Hermione shot stinging hexes at the backs of the rampaging elephants.

Hermione looked up at the spotlight. “He is most certainly not gay!”

“Was that really necessary?” asked Alyx plaintively.

“No, but it was fun,” replied Bob. “Besides, I got Alan Rickman to insult Harry.”

“You're going to piss Harry off you know.” Alyx pointed out.

“Nah, He'll survive, besides, if he wants to keep getting laid he'll leave me alone.”

Harry stopped short of hexing Bob and slowly backed away.

“Behold the power of the Author. The pen is still mightier than the wand!” quipped Bob.

“I need a new husband, someone more normal,” moaned Alyx.



* * *



Sunrise Over Britain

Chapter 7





* * *



Weasley Residence, Town of Haven, evening of May 29th...

Arthur Weasley sat on the edge of his bed and sighed heavily. Tonight's town meeting and impromptu dance had been a smashing success, but he now found himself exhausted. Amelia's proclamation about Albus Dumbledore had come as a shock to a great many people and he had personally spent most of the night explaining to people that yes, the charges against Dumbledore were sound. Many people hadn't wanted to believe it and his own son, Charlie, was among them.

Arthur smiled briefly as he recalled managing to steal away from the crowd for a few moments of time with Melinda. He had even managed to drag her out, rather reluctantly, onto the dance floor for one dance. He recognized she was still grieving over the loss of her husband and that it would take time before she was ready to let him go, but for now he was content to be her friend.

After the dance, he had returned to the crowd, noticed Charlie scowling at him from a corner, and realized he'd have to speak to him soon. His son really was a good man, but he was working with incomplete facts. The problem was those Weasleys who knew the facts about what the family had done to Harry felt deep shame and didn't want to talk about it. No one had told Charlie about the theft of Harry's money and the payments going to Ron, or the fact that Molly and Arthur had known about the abuse, but had ignorned it at Dumbledore's request. In retrospect, Arthur realized it was a mistake to have not explained those facts to Charlie.

He laid back on the bed, pulling the covers over him and listened to the soft murmur of voices as people left the town hall and passed the cottage, laughing and joking. His house wasn't far from the hospital, so it wasn't uncommon for there to be sounds all night long. It was in the dark, during times such as these, that he admitted to himself that he was lonely. He thought of Molly and smiled in the darkness, his mind traveling back in time to a younger, beautiful Molly Prewett dressed in her Yule Ball gown. That was the way he wanted to remember her.

While Arthur fell asleep, Charlie was awake in his own room, writing in his charmed journal.

Having just come from tonight's town meeting I find myself troubled to think that so many are being taken in by this ruse. There had to be three thousand people in the magically enlarged hall, and yet they ate up every word spoken by Amelia Bones, Harry Potter and some Irishman named Michael O'Dalley.

According to Minister Bones, at least that's the title she's claiming now, Albus Dumbledore is a wanted fugitive of the British Ministry of Magic in Exile and his fugitive status is now known to the Irish Ministry, as well as other Ministries around the world.

Charlie looked up from his journal in annoyance. In the light of a nearby gas street lamp he spotted several people laughing and singing. They were coming from the direction of the town hall - obviously late night party types. Frowning, he turned back to his journal.

I am positive this is a grave mistake on the part of everyone here, but the 'Minister' is quite clear on the subject. Albus Dumbledore is wanted on serious charges. Given the look by this O'Dalley character, there is no doubt in my mind that he would attempt to arrest him should he show up in Haven after the Fidelius charm is lifted.

The biggest surprise of the evening was Harry Potter. I don't recall him being so well built or so tall, but then I haven't seen Harry since his participation in the Tri-Wizard Tournament. He talked about erecting a ward around the town similar to one he put around Britain. I don't claim to understand all the details, but putting a ward on an entire country seems to me to be an outrageous claim. The power required is astronomical, and he's just a boy still! Anyway Haven is warded, there is a designated apparation point and the town is supposedly under an anti-apparation ward. I haven't tested it, but it wouldn't surprise me to find the town warded like that.

Another thing that bothers me is Ginny. She performed an incredible feat of wandless magic the other night on me. Tonight, she and several others attended the town meeting in which they were all wearing a similar cloak. If I didn't know better, I would say it was some kind of uniform. It's scary. She's not the little sister I remember. Every time I see her or one of her friends walking about Haven, I see people treating them with respect. Even the Constables seem to think Ginny and her friends have some sort of unwritten authority. She makes me feel uneasy. It's like she is seeing into my mind and judging me. I think I'll speak to my Dad soon about finding work here and maybe getting a place of my own.

Charlie leaned back and rested his hand. He hadn't done this much writing since leaving Hogwarts. Through his window he saw that the party goers had vanished, leaving only the lights of the Hospital shining in the distance.



* * *



Johansen's Residence, Haven (June 2nd)...

“Where are the children?” Melinda asked as she sat down at the Johansen's kitchen table. She was off duty from the hospital and had wandered over to the Johansen's home as they were one of the few families she knew in Haven.

“Oh, most are out with Sven, helping in the fields. The twins are with George and Fred and the others are playing, or have been put down for their naps,” Olga said as she poured tea for her guest and sat down across from her.

Melinda stirred her tea for a few moments before looking at Olga. “I'm not sure I thanked you or Sven properly for taking the children in,” she began.

“Tsk! There is no need. We always wanted more children, Sven and I, but after Johan, I was unable to conceive again. The children, they are a joy to us.”

“How are they doing?”

“Many had nightmares for some time, but they are getting better. They know they are safe here and part of our family. The youngest seem to be bouncing back the quickest, but the older children are beginning to trust again.”

Melinda sipped her tea before replying. “I'm glad to hear it. I've been worried about their adjustment after all that's happened to them.”

Into the silence that followed, Olga looked at her guest carefully. Now that she had been reassured about the children's welfare, the older woman could see the tension in Melinda's stiff posture and white knuckled grip on her teacup. With a mental shrug, Olga did what she had always done in situations such as these.

“Now that you've been reassured about the children, why don't you tell me what else has brought you here today?”

Melinda looked up, startled, causing Olga to laugh softly.

“It's obvious to anyone with the eyes to see, girl. Something else is bothering you.”

Melinda shook her head a bit ruefully. “I should have known I'd get nothing past you.”

“Perhaps you weren't trying to, hmm?”

“Perhaps not,” the dark haired woman agreed as she picked up her teacup. Her eyes drifted to the kitchen window and became unfocused.

Olga took a quick sip of tea and said, rather casually, “I noticed you and Arthur Weasley dancing together in the town hall a few nights ago.”

Melinda's eyes swung back to Olga sharply, but she remained silent.

“Ah. I think I see where the problem lies.”

“And probably more clearly than I,” Melinda replied, placing her cup carefully on the table.

“Oh, I doubt that,” Olga said. “You see the problem, you just can't see the solution through the pain. Now, tell me and we will see what we can do, hmm?”

Surprised, Melinda found herself doing just that. She explained what had happened while at Arthur's cottage, including how Charlie had reacted to the twins' mistaken assumption that she and Arthur were dating, and the family fight that followed. She had, thankfully, missed most of it, but Arthur had told her about it a few days later when he'd stopped by to see her and apologize once more for the way his son had acted towards her.

Now she found herself torn. She didn't want to cause problems in the Weasley family, but she enjoyed the time she spent with Arthur. However, finding pleasure in his company caused her pain because she felt as though she was betraying Michael's memory.

“I feel like I'm being pulled in three different directions and I just don't know what to do anymore,” Melinda concluded as she slumped back in her chair.

“The first thing to do is relieve some of the pressure you feel.”

“It's not that easy.”

“Oh, but it is that easy,” Olga said firmly. “First, the responsibility you feel for the problems in the Weasley family are admirable, but misplaced. If what you say is true, most of the children like you and have no problem with you and their father dating...”

“We're not dating!”

Olga rolled her eyes. “Fine, then. Not dating. As I was saying, most of his children do not mind that he is... 'not dating' you. The problem lies with Charlie, not you. He and Arthur will work things out in their own time, or not. You may be the excuse for it this time, but if Arthur gave in to the demands of his child, it will not end with you, and he is a smart man to see it. Let them work it out between them and take your cues from Arthur.”

“He said something very similar to me,” Melinda said as she refilled her teacup. “But after spending so much time with the children at Mother Wilma's, the thought of causing a break between father and son is horrifying to me.”

“You would not be the cause, my girl, just one of the symptoms,” Olga told her.

Melinda thought over all that had been said, and then nodded. “You're right,” she said quietly, meeting the older woman's eyes.

“Of course I am!” Olga exclaimed, her eyes dancing. She stood then and moved to the counter. Removing a dish towel from a pan, she cut two slices of very rich-looking chocolate cake and, taking forks from a nearby drawer, returned to the table. Placing one of the small plates before Melinda, she sat down and told the girl to eat before turning to her own plate.

When only crumbs were left, Melinda pushed her plate away and sighed. “I really need to learn how to cook!”

Olga collected the plates and took them to the sink, laughing. “Why bother when you can come here?”

“Hmm, very true. All of the calories and none of the work. But it doesn't seem very fair,” Melinda said, grinning.

“But that won't stop you, will it?” Olga asked. “You know I love to cook for those who enjoy it.”

When Olga began to fill the sink with soapy water, Melinda drew her wand and cast a quick cleansing charm on the dishes and then levitated them back into the cabinets.

Olga clapped merrily. “Come over for a meal anytime, my dear girl! I'll be happy to cook for you, if you'll do the dishes for me.”

“Deal,” Melinda told her, smiling as the older woman came back to the table and sat down next to her.

“It must be a fine thing to be a witch,” Olga said.

“It does have its moments.”

Olga stared at the witch for a moment, then shook her head and sighed. “I believe we have one more thing to discuss today, yes?”

“And what is that?” Melinda asked curiously.

“The feelings of guilt you have when you spend time with Arthur,” Olga said, watching her closely.

Melinda looked away from the shrewed eyes watching her and closed her eyes for a moment. Standing suddenly, she wrapped her arms around herself and bit her trembling lip. “I know, it's foolish. Michael's gone and I need to accept it.”

“Oh, child, there is nothing foolish about grief,” Olga told her softly. “Nor is there a right or wrong way to mourn those we've lost.

“Acceptance will come in its own time, and with it will come the willingness to let go of what might have been. My mother used to say that when one door closes, another opens. She was right and, when you're ready, you will step through that door and move on.”

“What if I don't know how?” Melinda asked quietly, tears slipping silently down her cheeks.

Olga stood and wrapped her arms around the younger woman. “When the time comes, child, you will.”





* * *



Armagh, Northern Ireland (June 2nd)...

Antonin Dolohov looked up in surprise as Evans slapped down a newspaper on the table. Peering down, his eyes widened when he saw the headline.

Harry Potter Unveils Whole Town!

In a move designed to help the refugees from the troubles in Britain, Amelia Bones, the Minister of the British Ministry of Magic in Exile led this reporter and others on a guided tour of a town built by Harry Potter to house the refugees from the disaster that befell their country.

While precise numbers weren't available, the town of Haven boasts both a primary and secondary school, the complete library of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the seat of the Government in Exile and a hospital containing over three hundred beds.

“The Haven School of Witchcraft and Wizardry contains all we could salvage from Hogwarts before we had to evacuate. Minerva McGonagall, the Headmistress, hopes that by the start of next term we will be able to open our doors to Irish children as well as the children of the refugees,” said Minister Bones.

Bones, who accepted the position after the evacuation from Britain, refused to say more about large numbers of Aurors in the town's population, except to say that the British Ministry would continue to lead the fight against Voldemort, even from this location.

According to Bones, the town now contains a branch of Gringotts bank and is working to bring in new businesses...

For Apparation Coordinates and Haven Directory, see page 3a.

Dolohov placed the paper down on the table again and thought furiously. He didn't have a lot of men, barely a hundred, including himself, and another forty who had yet to be marked or trained, and the town was undoubtedly warded to some extent.

He looked up at the man who'd given him the Daily Dublin. “Evans, gather up five men. I want to find out more about this 'Haven' so we can report back to the Master about it. Do not enter the town. It may have wards similar to those around Britain. No, better yet, take a few of the recruits who haven't been marked. Use one of the recruits to check out the town.”

Evan nodded and walked from the room. Dolohov watched the door close behind him before going back to reading the paper. Perhaps I'll finally have some news to report to the Master after all, he mused.

Meanwhile, just a few miles away, a middle aged man checked into a rundown hotel. The man had spent most of the morning wandering about the city. It wasn't hard to find the Wizarding part of the town once one knew what to look for. And Tonks knew what she was looking for.



* * *



Padfoot Manor, Harry's Study (June 3rd)...

Harry reached over his desk and grabbed his cup of tea. With Hermione's help, he had just finished setting up for their daily morning meeting. Hermione had jumped into the job of being Harry's chief of staff concerning the war and Haven growth with a passion and Harry wasn't sure how he had muddled through without her help before. Every morning she went through the pile of incoming papers and whittle the pile down to just a few that he had to look at. She also came up with the idea of a daily breakfast meeting, in which major problems could be dealt with.

This morning the meeting was being attended by Miles, Draco, Michael O'Dalley, and Bill Weasley, who had assumed a leading role in the running of the town of Haven itself to help his father. Other mornings, Amelia would attend, or Minerva. Attendance varied, depending on the needs of the day. Surprisingly, Remus opted for a less visible approach. As Harry's chief of the household, and one of the lead researchers for the Brotherhood, he spent most of his time with Eocho and Hermione. He normally caught up with Harry in the evenings.

“... and Millicent is currently working her way through the list of blood purists at the school. She's basically set herself up in the same role as Pansy used to occupy. With Luna now gone from the school, she's using a more direct method to send me dispatches. Also, with Minerva's permission, we have asked the school elves to keep a closer eye on things than they did at Hogwarts. That information is forwarded to Minerva first, then sent to me if she deems it necessary,” Draco said, while referring to his notes.

“What about Haven itself?” asked Bill Weasley.

Draco sighed and pulled another parchment from his folder. “Haven is more problematic. Few of the families had house elves back in Britain, so few are taking advantage of them here. We've put many to work in roles that would have been performed by municipal employees, doing this such as street sweeping, lamp lighting and so on. We have a few possible hot spots in town, but we do not have enough evidence to take action against anyone,” Draco replied, then his eyes flickered to Bill warily. He was not about to go public with Ginny's suspicions until he had hard evidence on Charlie.

“And the twins?” asked Harry with a bit of a grin. He loved hearing what they were up to. He kept promising he'd visit with them, but so far hadn't found the opportunity.

Draco smiled in response. “Ah, yes. Well Q branch is experiencing some growth difficulties, but they continue to turn out items that have been used successfully by Miles' people. The demand for new products has increased the size of the twin's operation, but other than the occasional explosion, few people in the Operations Center even know they exist.”

Miles winced at Draco's description. The last explosion had shifted the entire building six inches to the north and collapsed half the wards.

“On the international front, you know about the cauldrons Voldemort's looking for. We have people looking into the issue, but so far they haven't found anything. On a more disturbing note, we heard from the Norwegian Ministry. As it turns out, Durmstrang was hidden in Norway, though anyone who hadn't attended the school was unable to find it. Anyway, several high level members of the Norwegian Ministry made mention of their letters to their children going unanswered. So an Auror group was dispatched to the school to see if anything was wrong.

“The report goes on to say that all of the sixth and seventh year students are missing, along with most of the faculty and the school library. The students who were left behind were under a compulsion not to reply to any owl posts.”

Harry leaned forward and placed his elbows on his desk. “So we're talking about what? One hundred students and perhaps ten teachers having gone over to Voldemort?” he asked with a frown.

“I'm afraid it's more serious than that, Harry,” Miles said with a frown. “Durmstrang was a more popular school among the pure bloods. The school actually had a much larger student population than Hogwarts, despite Hogwarts having the greater prestige. The number of missing students is closer to two hundred and fifty, along with nearly forty teachers.”

Harry scowled at the news. “Are we certain they've gone to Britain?” he asked.

When Miles and Draco both nodded, Harry sighed and lowered his head to one of his hands. He scrubbed his face tiredly with the other before looking up at them again.

“Miles, I want our people safe. I don't care who's holding a wand on them. We have enough experience with student aged Death Eaters. Let your people know they are authorized to use deadly force to safeguard themselves and their missions,” he said in a weary tone, thinking of Dean Thomas, Pansy Parkinson and Theodore Nott.

Miles nodded again and scribbled a quick comment in notes. “Will you speak to Amelia about authorizing this, Harry?”

Harry waved a hand at him. “Yes, I'll talk to her about it. I don't want someone hurt because a sixteen year old got jumpy. I don't like our side using Unforgivables, but I don't see any other option... What else have you got for me, Miles?”

“Hmmm... Well, as you are aware, the number of rescue missions has dropped dramatically. All of the school families have been rescued... those who wanted rescuing, that is. Now our missions are more in the role of intelligence gathering. We have several operations that we're considering, but we need hard intelligence before we can do any of them.

“The American contingent arrived two days ago. I have to say they seem like a noisy bunch of chaps, but they do know their business. We'll begin joint training sessions with them in a few days. I planned on holding off until the Canadians showed up. Their group is supposedly larger than the American group. Several other Commonwealth nations have pledged sizable forces as well. Between Canada, Australia, New Zealand, India and the U.S., we're looking at over one thousand Aurors all totaled before the middle of the month. Add to that our Aurors and trainees and we're looking at a fighting force of nearly fifteen hundred.

“The European nations say they will be sending contingents later in the month, but the word out of Washington is that some of the nations may be less than forthcoming. Apparently, the French tried to dictate to the U.S. what their level of involvement would be among the muggle governments. The U.S. Government did all but threaten nuclear war if the French didn't back off.

“The American Department of Magic managed to put a stop to that, but the French are pretty upset about it. As a result, their Ministry is willing to help, but they are less than enthusiastic about it,” Miles said.

Harry's expression grew distasteful and he made another note in his book. “I'll speak to Amelia about this also. I know nothing about international politics, but it's in no one's interest for the French and the Yanks to be fighting right now. And we certainly don't want anyone talking about their bigger weapons. I think we've seen too many of them as it is.”

Miles smiled thinly and nodded to Bill Weasley.

Bill smiled nervously. His work with Gringotts and his abilities as a curse breaker meant he could have fit into many places. Instead, as a favor to his father, he had accepted the task of helping get the town's economy on track.

Harry started to chuckle at his nervousness. “Don't worry, Bill. This isn't like talking to Minerva.”

Bill blushed and fumbled with his papers. “Damn Weasley complexion” he muttered under his breath and everyone chuckled.

“Alright, then. As everyone knows, the Fidelius Charm on the town came down three days ago. Amelia and Minister Mallory escorted the press around, showing off the town the same day. Since then, I've fielded requests to open several businesses, both from inside Haven and from outside.”

Bill consulted his notes before continuing. “We have requests for frontage space for a clothing shop, a book store, two pubs, one restaurant and a toy shop. Of the requests so far, three are from local people. We also have two manufacturing companies that are looking to expand into Haven and take advantage of the space we have. Quick Quality Cauldrons is looking for a facility that will probably employ close to one hundred people, and Applebee's Apothecary Supplies is looking into the possibilities of opening up multiple greenhouses. Applebee's would only employ about twenty-five people, but I've been talking to them about moving their mail order processing here, as well. That would add another seventy-five employees. Finally, there is Granger Publications,” Bill concluded, looking at Harry with a grinning.

Hermione scowled at him before turning her scowl on Harry, who smiled benignly back at her. Granger Publications was Harry's idea. He had hired someone to organize the basic structure and run the company for Dan and Emma. Dan would produce a version of his little book for each school year that would then be duplicated and sold as a study aid world wide. They were also exploring the possibilities of using the same format for Healer and Auror training.

The night that Harry had publicly announced Granger Publications at the town meeting, the Grangers, and Hermione had jumped all over him when they'd returned to the manor. It had taken some fast talking on Harry's part, but he had managed to make them understand the need for the company. The majority of the company was owned by the Grangers, with the minority in Harry's hands. That discussion had been one of the hardest Harry had ever had with his future in-laws and it was one he hoped to never have to have again.

“Yes, do tell about Granger Publications,” commented Hermione in a dry voice.

Everyone snickered. It was common knowledge that Harry had sprung the company on Hermione's parents as a surprise. Bill coughed and looked nervously at Hermione before continuing.

“Well, moving on then. The Americans have moved in and are settling in nicely. The number of children has strained our capabilities somewhat and I've spoken to Minerva about that in regard to next year. Between our own capabilities and offers from the Irish, we should be fine when next September rolls around.”

Bill shuffled through his papers, then turned his attention towards Harry again.

“Good news there, Bill. Keep on top of the school problems though. I suspect that Minerva will need to hire additional staff for September,” Harry said after a moments thought. “Michael? Do you have anything for me?”

“Not really, my lord,” said O'Dalley.

Harry frowned. He had been unable as yet to break O'Dalley of the habit of using that honorific.

“We've had a few cases of drunken rowdiness, but that's about it. Most everyone approaching the town is either coming up the road or using the designated apparation point. We've had a fair number of sight seers, but nothing we can't handle. As to the other matter, I've been reliably informed that your agent has made it up 'north'.”

Harry nodded thoughtfully. “Thank you, all,” he said, checking his watch. “Now if you'll excuse me, I still have some time before I have to meet with Eocho for my morning session.”

As a group Miles, Bill and O'Dalley stood and filed from the room. Hermione turned to Harry and studied him for a long moment.

“You know Mum and Dad are still annoyed about what you did with Granger Publications,” she said softly.

Harry leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes for a moment. “Yeah, I know. But it couldn't be helped. Granger Publications will ultimately be one of our largest employers for Haven. I had to get it off the ground without interfering with what your parents were doing too much. That's why I brought in an outside manager and put your parents in charge overall. I don't want them angry with me, Hermione, but I need that company up and running. Your Dad has the product and can make new ones. From there, it's out of his hands except to accept the profits. Personally, I still think his idea is brilliant. I wish I'd had one of his study aids back in my first year.”

Hermione sighed. “Don't take this wrong. Your idea was good, Harry, it was the surprise that angered them.”

Harry cracked opened his eyes and stared at her for a long moment. Hermione held his gaze. She was one of the few who could. “Hermione, you and I both know your parents didn't have the financial resources to start that company. They would have fought tooth and nail against my handing them a bag of money and telling them to go start it. All I did was start it for them, then hand it over.”

Hermione smiled briefly, acknowledging that he was right. “But what about the part about keeping it secret from me? Your own fiancée?” she asked, curious to see how he would answer.

Harry chuckled. “You? You would have fought me just as hard, if not harder. You are your parents daughter in all ways,” he replied with a laugh, quickly ducking the throw pillow she aimed at his head.



* * *



Haven Operations Center, Q Branch...

Helga and Inga opened the door to their office and were surprised to find it strangely silent. The two blonds exchanged a worried glance. Fred and George had increased the size of the office staff recently and to enter the office these days and find it silent was worrisome if not downright frightening.

“What do you think?” asked Helga in a worried tone.

“Let's look in the lab before we start to panic,” offered Inga.

The two dropped their cloaks on a chair and approached the door to the large laboratory and testing area. The sign on the door admonished people to enter at their own risk. Opening the door they could clearly hear the sound of several people laughing at the far end of the large room. Curious now, the twins walked over to a small crowd of people.

Ginny, Fred and George's sister, was sitting on the floor, holding her sides and laughing, while Fred and George sat, staring sadly at the work bench looking at the antics of their latest creation. Standing next to Fred and George were several of their new staff members, all laughing as well.

Sitting on the bench were three, six inch high people who were busy pummeling each other.

“What is going on here?” asked Inga in a stern tone.

Fred hastily waved his wand and the three figures froze, while George stood up and turned to face the girls. Most of the staff hurried back to their own work stations, but Ginny remained on the floor, giggling. The Weasley twins shot her a murderous look before turning back to their girlfriends.

“Oh... um... nothing really. We were just trying out an idea that you'd mentioned once, but it didn't seem to work,” George said sadly.

“One of our ideas? Which one?” asked Helga.

“The talkie walkie things. But it didn't work quite the way we planned,” said Fred with a lost expression on his face.

Helga and Inga suppressed the urge to laugh at Fred's look. The Weasley twins hated to admit they hadn't succeeded in doing something. The duo looked as if someone had told them their puppy had died.

“So, show us. Maybe we can tell you where you went wrong,” offered Inga with a smile.

Fred nodded and waved the girls closer to the table. He waved his wand and all three figures straightened up and looked at him expectantly. Ginny climbed up from the floor and stood at the end of the work bench where she could watch. Each figure seemed to be dressed in a white T-Shirt with a name on it, and a pair of pants.

Fred looked up as Inga read off the names on each figure. “Larry, Curly and Moe?”

“We needed to give them names of some sort. Amy suggested the names after seeing them in action,” offered Fred apologetically.

“Now, our idea was to create something to carry messages, like those talkie walkie things,” George said proudly.

“Walkie talkies, George,” Helga said, smiling at her boyfriend.

George stopped for a moment and looked at her, then nodded. “Right, Walkie Talkies. So, anyway, the idea is to give the message to the Walkie Talkie and it would travel to another Walkie Talkie, pass the message along and then return.”

“Moe,” said Fred, “tell Larry that we need more Aurors.”

Moe nodded and started to walk towards Larry, but he fell when Curly tripped him. Moe leapt to his feet and Larry ran over and poked Curly in the eyes. Curly immediately ducked down howling in pain. Moe moved to hit Curly, but instead hit Larry when Curly ducked. In just a moment the three where rolling around on the table, fighting. Ginny hit the floor again laughing and the twins' faces contorted in amusement at the sad expressions worn by Fred and George as they watched Larry, Moe and Curly.

“I think we need to explain Walkie Talkies better,” suggested Helga.

Moe slapped both Larry and Curly in a single swing. Curly pulled a bowling pin out of his pocket and hit Moe in the head. It made a surprisingly loud thwapping sound.

Inga nodded, wide eyed. From behind them came a scream as someone fell through a hole in the floor. Both Fred and George looked over with interest.

“Look! They got it working!” shouted Fred, then he turned and bolted towards the hole in the floor with George in tow.

Helga and Inga followed behind them, never noticing Ginny freezing Larry, Curly and Moe and sliding the three figures into her pocket.

Helga ran after the two red heads. “Got what working? I swear I can't keep up with what you two are working on anymore,” she complained.

Fred and George leaned over the perfectly round hole in the floor. The interior of the hole was pitch black and far away screaming could be heard emanating from it, as if coming from a great distance.

Fred looked up at one of the men nearby. “You used Amy as a test subject?”

The man nodded. “Yeah, I pushed her in,” he replied with a grin, which Fred and George returned.

Inga pointed at the hole in the floor. “What the devil is that?”

George looked up at Inga. “This? It's a portable hole. It's really only about seven feet deep, but the illusion is that you are free falling forever. We think it will make a great trap for the Aurors. A person will remain in the hole until someone flips it over.”

Fred ran a few diagnostic charms on the hole, then turned to the man who had pushed Amy into the hole. “Can you whip up a dozen of these for Miles' people to play with in the field?” he asked intently.

“I'll have them ready in a few days.” came the reply.

“Excellent! Now let's go back into the office and talk about this Walkie Talkie business,” said George linking his arm with Helga and pulling her towards the office.

“But... but... what about Amy?” sputtered Inga as Fred dragged her towards the office.

“Oh, someone will let her out sooner or later,” Fred said with a shrug.



* * *



Padfoot Manor, Harry's Study...

Harry limped back into his study after his lesson with Eocho. Each lesson began in the same manner. They spent a short time communing, during which Eocho would pass key elements of the lesson to him, then they would put elements to practical uses for the remaining two hours. Brotherhood fighting techniques were brutal on his leg, but Eocho insisted that, as Maglios, it was up to Harry to learn these techniques.

Harry's mobility hadn't significantly increased, but his stamina and his ability to go for longer periods before his leg turned lame had increased, much to his pleasure. Eocho had taught Harry several spells that assisted him in dealing with his leg afterwards. One such spell he had warned Harry only to use in dire emergencies. The spell would give him nearly all of his old mobility back, enabling him to duel without the possibility of the leg going lame. But with the good, came the bad. The downside of the spell, according to Eocho, was that when the spell wore off, the disability of his leg would be increased, permanently. With repeated uses of the spell, it was possible for the leg to become a useless appendage, unable to sustain his weight for even short distances. The pain would be chronic, and permanent as well.

Harry sat in his chair and cast a spell which gently tightened his pant leg and warmed it around his calf, massaging his aching leg and providing him relief. It was probably one of the best spells Eocho had taught him. He sighed in relief, then considered carefully his next meeting, due to start at any moment.

Two small pops alerted him to the fact that his visitors had arrived. Looking up, he smiled at Dobby and the other elf and motioned for them to take a seat in the chairs he had conjured for them. Dobby scrambled into his chair, but the other elf looked scandalized by the notion of sitting.

“Please, Pappy, sit. I would like to talk to you both and I would personally feel more comfortable if you would sit down while I do,” Harry said in a kindly tone.

The old elf looked up at Harry for a long moment before carefully positioning himself so he was sitting, just barely, on the edge of the seat. Pappy, or 'the Pappy' as the other house elves called him, was the oldest living house elf among those in Haven. It was the closest thing one could find in a position of authority among house elves.

Harry tried to smile reassuringly at Pappy, but he knew he couldn't break years of treatment as an inferior in a single meeting.

“Pappy, I know this sort of meeting is unusual, but it is very necessary. I have asked Dobby to attend this meeting, despite the fact that most elves think Dobby is an unnatural elf. Dobby has been very helpful to me and can help us here,” Harry said, trying to carefully frame his opening remarks.

“Dobby is not right in the head,” said Pappy firmly. Dobby's ears drooped and his eyes flashed with a touch of anger.

Harry made a motion to Dobby, preventing him from speaking. “Dobby is my good friend and part of my family. Regardless of what the other elves may think, Dobby is a Potter. I value his advice and his help in dealing with the other elves has been invaluable. For the duration of this meeting I will ask you to not insult my family,” Harry said in a hard tone.

Dobby looked up at Harry and beamed, while the Pappy shivered under Harry's hard gaze.

“Now, moving along. I have a problem and I need to deal with it as quickly as I can. I need to prevent another Kreacher.”

Dobby looked startled and Pappy looked confused.

“Dobby, perhaps you can explain to Pappy about Kreacher?” Harry suggested. He really wanted to help Dobby mend some of the fences between himself and his own kind.

Dobby nodded vigorously. “Kreacher was evil elf. He belong to house of Black. He committed ultimate evil for which Dobby and Winky punished him for Master Harry.”

Pappy looked horrified. “Kreacher betrayed his master? Maybe Dobby isn't so bad after all.”

“I need to avoid another Kreacher incident,” Harry said, interrupting the two elves. “Kreacher betrayed Sirius Black and lied to me, which resulted in Sirius' death. We have many elves here in Haven. I need to make sure that none of them will betray us.”

Dobby nodded in understanding, but Pappy looked horrified at the idea that any elf would betray them.

“Pappy, other than the Hogwarts Elves, and a few here in the manor house like Dobby and Winky, none of the other elves are formally bound to anyone and therefore not under the strictures of the Master/Elf bond,” Harry reminded the old elf gently.

“We woulds be happy to bond with you, Master Potter. In fact, we needs to bond soon anyway,” Pappy told him.

Harry nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, I am aware of the limitations on your kind. What I would like to propose is this. I will give every elf time to find a family in Haven who would take them in. Those elves than cannot find a family, I will accept either as a personal bond or as bonded to the town of Haven. Is this acceptable?”

“What ever you wants, Master Potter. It's not for house elves to decide such tings.” said Pappy.

Harry sighed, knowing full well that trying to convince Pappy that he could make his own decision would be a useless gesture.

“Alright, then. Dobby? How many elves had joined in the war effort?” Harry asked curiously.

“There be five score helping Master Draco and another ten score waiting for their turn to help,” replied Dobby.

The three talked for a few minutes longer before Pappy asked for permission to go alert the other elves of the changes.

“Master Harry?” asked Dobby after Pappy left.

“Hmmm?” Harry was still lost in thought considering the number of elves wanting to help the war effort.

“Was you saying the truth? Dobby is a Potter?” asked the little elf in a hopeful tone.

Harry broke away from his thoughts and smiled at his friend. “Dobby, back in my second year, you tried to save me from Tom Riddle and you did save me from Lucius. We are bonded by something stronger than the Master/Elf bond. I owe you a life debt. You are my friend and part of my family now, and for as long as the Potter line continues.”

Dobby's eyes welled with tears and his lower lip quivered slightly. “Dobby will proudly carry the name of Potter and make my family proud of me,” he declared.

“I know you will, Dobby. I've always been proud to be your friend, and am even happier that you are part of the family,” Harry replied with a smile. Dobby nodded and vanished, leaving Harry chuckling to himself.



* * *



Padfoot Manor Grounds (Later that evening)...

Finding Harry tonight was easier than she thought it would be. She stepped onto the back porch and could hear the strains of his tin whistle playing in the distance. Following the sound of the music, she walked away from the manor and into the woods.

She didn't have to go far before she found Harry sitting with his back against a tree. Several piles of peanuts were strewn about the forest floor nearby and several squirrels were snacking on them. One squirrel, however, seemed to be particularly bold and was perched on Harry's shoe, its tail twitching in time to the music.

Harry's eyes lit up, spotting her, and he motioned for her to sit next to him. Hermione moved slowly closer, as she didn't want to frighten off his audience. Several squirrels chattered loudly at her when she got too close to one of the piles of peanuts, but most ignored her. Sitting next to Harry, she grinned when he smiled around his instrument and started a lively tune, causing many of the squirrels to twitch their tails in unison. Hermione had to suppress a laugh when she saw the dozen squirrels twitching in time to his music. When he was done, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. His hand seemed to slip all by itself into hers.

“Are you alright, Harry?”

“Yes, I think I am,” he replied, a soft smile on his face. He still had his eyes closed and wasn't looking directly at her. “I spoke with Dobby and the Pappy today,” he said softly.

She frowned for a moment. “And?” she prodded.

“I had thought that bringing up Kreacher and Sirius when I explained the problem to the Pappy would be painful... but it really wasn't. I still miss Sirius, but it doesn't hurt as much now. I don't feel like I have a huge gaping hole in me anymore when I think of him.”

“You're healed and moved on then,” she said.

“I suppose I am,” he replied thoughtfully, “but I should warn you one of our kids will be named Sirius.”

She leaned into his shoulder and he wrapped an arm around her. “I think I can live with that. So who are your friends?”

Harry cracked his eyes open and looked to see her gesturing towards the squirrels. “Oh, them... Nutters and company. I haven't named them, I just bring them peanuts every couple days.”

Hermione laughed softly, then turned to peer intently at him. “What did you tell Dobby today? I've never seen a house elf that happy. He's practically walking on the ceiling.”

Harry chuckled at the thought. It was something he wouldn't put past the little elf. “I told him today that no matter what happened, as long as the House of Potter lived, he would be a Potter.”

Hermione pushed away from him slightly and she stared at him with wide eyes. “You called him a Potter? Oh, Harry, you gave him the greatest compliment he could have ever hoped for.”

Harry shrugged. “I meant it. He's saved my life at least once, twice if you count him catching that Razorback spider. Dobby is a lot like me, Hermione. He's the odd man out. His own kind fear and dislike him. Making him a Potter gives him a sense of identity that transcends being just an Elf. He wants to be free, but he also wants to belong to something. It's a feeling I can identify with.”

His comments surprised and shocked her a little. “Do you really feel like you don't belong anywhere?”

Harry tightened his arm around her shoulder for a moment, then he turned and watched the antics of his furry friends as they scampered around the piles of peanuts.

“I used to, Hermione. Before Hogwarts, I thought I was completely alone. Then I discovered our world and thought I had finally found home. That changed for a while last summer, and then changed again as our relationship grew. I have my place, Hermione. I'm a Potter, and a Black and I have a wonderful woman that completes my life. Someday, when our jobs are done and we grow up enough, we'll raise a family and you'll teach the little ones to read and I'll teach them to prank and play Quidditch. We're different people, but we're like two halves of a whole. We balance each other out and rely on the strength of the other to help with our weaknesses.”

Inwardly, Hermione was shocked to find Harry so serious and yet so focused. She looked at him with a fond smile, then decided it was time to lighten the mood.

“I know how you feel, Harry, but you have more weaknesses than I do. It's the flaw of being male,” she said primly. She moved to smooth her skirt as if she hadn't said anything out of the ordinary, then squeaked in surprise when he tackled her and began to tickle her.



* * *



Government House, Haven (June 5th)...

Michael O'Dalley looked over another report and swore that if he had to look at another domestic violence report, he'd scream. His Constables had only been active for a few days and already there was a clear pattern of problems within the Haven community.

Amelia and Harry were aware of the problem and were working diligently to fix it, but it basically boiled down to too many adults with too much free time on their hands. Everyday more and more people were being put to work as businesses started up, or moved into town, but there was still a sizable number of people who needed employment.

O'Dalley shuffled through the report on his desk until he found the projection report provided to him by Bill Weasley. According to the report, nearly a third of the adults would have some sort of work available to them by the month's end. Others were fanning out from Haven, looking for work within the Irish communities. The Irish Ministry had bent over backwards to provide work permits for anyone looking to find work in Wizarding Ireland. They also offered a fast track to full citizenship for anyone looking to immigrate permanently from Britain.

In the meantime, O'Dalley had to admit that the three or four cases his men had to deal with every night weren't all that bad. No pubs had opened yet in town, although that was supposed to change within a week, so liquor was still in short supply. And, of course, he had come up with a novel way of punishing anyone that got excessively out of hand.

Every morning the Elves that took care of the garbage pickup found they had a disarmed wizard volunteer to help remove the refuse. Usually a single day of picking up garbage was enough to keep anyone from getting too rowdy on his watch.

O'Dalley put Bill's report back on his pile and glanced out the window of his office. He'd had a long, intense conversation with his wife last night and the thought of that conversation was enough to distract him from work. He had brought up the idea of moving to Haven. There were plenty of cottages and homes available, and they were bigger than where he and his wife were living now. Haven was growing and he was frank enough to admit to himself that he enjoyed being part of it. His children would have Wizarding children to play with, and he could live like a wizard, rather than hiding among muggles, as he did now.

He shook his head and jumped from his chair when a small wall map began to chime. A hand appeared, pointing to one area on the northern outskirts of the wards. Rushing to the door, he opened it and called to the group of five Constables.

“We have intruders. Section North six, outer ward. Get everyone over there. I'll join you as soon as I alert the backup squad leader.”



* * *



Training and Ritual Room, Padfoot Manor...

Harry dodged a flying knife and conjured another set of small shields, which he then sent spinning down the platform.

“No, no, no! You must concentrate! Your opponent will see your shields and send his weapons over them! You must conjure them where you want them in the first place!” shouted Eocho, who demonstrated what he meant by pelting Harry with bursts of pebbles. The pebbles wouldn't injure him, but they would sting.

Harry nodded as Eocho banished Harry's metal shields. “Now begin again!”

At the far end of the platform, a series of knives appeared and flew towards him. Harry raised a hand and conjured a wall of solid ice. Deep thumping sounds were heard through the room as the knives sunk deep into the ice.

“Good! Good! Now multiple...,” Eocho trailed off as Harry's eyes flared with power. He held out a hand and his staff appeared within it.

“There's been a breach in the wards,” Harry snarled just before he vanished.

Eocho floated alone for another moment, smiling. “The Maglios keeps his duties,” he said to the empty room, then he, too, vanished from the room, leaving only a melting wall of ice pitted with knives.



* * *



Haven outer ward, section North Six...

Harry apparated into chaos. He quickly cast a shield just in time for several Reducto r hexes to splash harmlessly against it. He was confused for a moment. Several men were down and he wasn't sure who was fighting who.

“MY LORD!” came a shout and suddenly Harry pitched to his knees as someone tackled him from behind. Harry rolled out from under the person and pulled himself up to his knees. Deciding to put an end to this as quickly as he could, he used a wide field version of the Stupefy hex that Eocho had taught him.

“Stupefy prolixus agri!” he shouted.

There was a flash of light from the crystal orb atop his staff, followed by the sound of several wizards apparating away. He blinked his eyes furiously from the flash of light and could see the slowly fading shield left behind by the wizards who had just apparated away.

Standing, he looked around. Nearby was one dead Death Eater who had crossed the ward, and another man was down on his hands and knees, vomiting. Two of O'Dalley's Constables lay nearby, one stunned, the other badly wounded and bleeding heavily.

Harry took two steps and knelt next to the injured Constable. He looked up as O'Dalley knelt across from him on the other side of the man and started to apply several healing charms.

Harry reached over and unclipped the man's badge. “Portus,” he murmured and the badge glowed blue for a moment. Then he laid the badge down on the man's chest.

“Take him to hospital, Michael. I'll take care of our guest,” Harry said.

O'Dalley nodded gratefully and touched the badge on his injured comrade. A moment later, the two vanished.

Harry turned and stood. “Enervate,” he said, pointing at the stunned Constable. The man blinked his eyes for a moment, then rolled over and climbed to his knees.

“Ambush! Everyone find cover!” he shouted.

Several of the Constables standing next to their prisoner started to chuckle at their friend.

“That's Charlie for ya!” shouted one Constable. “Slow on the uptake, but he always knows what's going on.”

Laughter broke out among the Constables again. Harry couldn't help but admire the resiliency the men, going from an attack to cracking jokes and teasing one another in just a matter of moments. One of the men then noticed Harry, who stood off to one side, smiling, and nudged his fellow Constable. The other man looked carefully, then swallowed nervously and braced to attention.

“I'm sorry, m'lord. We didn't notice you there,” began the Constable.

Harry waved the man to silence. “It's alright, Constable, stand easy.” He then surveying the scene. “It looks like we have one unmarked Death Eater wannabe who try to cross the wards,” he said in satisfaction as he watched the man in question become more violently ill. “And one marked Death Eater also made the attempt, judging from the body parts strewn around.”

“Cor! He's a wannabe? I thought maybe someone hit him with a curse,” exclaimed a Constable, pointing to the moaning man on the ground who was still trying to retch up his guts.

“Oh, he was hit by a curse alright. The same ward that will kill a Death Eater, will turn anyone with a black aura very sick. Right now our jolly fellow here is wishing he could die ,as every bone in his body feels like it's breaking as his stomach ties itself into knots,” Harry said with a tight smile.

The other Constables looked wide eyed at Harry for a moment, then sternly down to their prisoner. The others exchanged a look. “Begging your pardon, m'lord, but what is the procedure with something like this? I know this was mentioned, but no one ever described the procedure.”

Harry thought for a moment. “Well, when I put the ward around Britain in place, I made an agreement with the Irish Ministry about this. The prisoner would be questioned before being given an antidote. That questioning should be done with at least one Irish Auror present. I suppose the smart thing to do would be to disarm him, strip him of any equipment he might have and move him to one of the holding cells at the Operations Center until we can get an Auror and the antidote there...” Harry trailed off and stared into the nearby tree line, suddenly tense. Someone nearby had cast a spell!

Harry raised his staff high above his head. “Patefacio meus os,” he muttered and the staff glowed as the nearby trees turned transparent. There was a popping sound and he had a brief image of an old man apparating away. Swearing, he turned to the Constables.

“Get the prisoner to the holding cells and alert the Irish. Tell Michael I want an update on his man's condition, as well as a report on the interrogation of the prisoner,” Harry said angrily, his eyes flashing dangerously.

As one, the men nodded, and many saluted for good measure.

With one last look towards the trees, Harry vanished from sight.

“COR! Did ya hear that? He didna make any sound!” exclaimed an awestruck Constable. The others nodded and shivered just a little before turning back to clean up the scene and move the prisoner.



* * *



Padfoot Manor...

Harry appeared in the main foyer of the manor. His magic was flaring to match his anger. He was certain he had spotted Dumbledore, and so close to a Death Eater attack! Had the old man finally crossed the line that should not be crossed? He didn't know, but he did know one of his people had been hurt and he had arrived too late to be of any help.

The manor rumbled as his anger warred with his common sense and Harry knew he needed to get himself under control. He turned and walked purposefully towards the training/ritual room that they used for training sessions with Eocho. As he did, his magic distorted the very fabric of the manor. He could only hope that the room was empty.

Approaching the room, the door bulged inwards alarmingly before snapping off the hinges. Entering the room, he barely took note of the fact that Eocho was in session with Hermione and Luna, except to shield all three of them. Then he conjured a series of stone obelisks and directed his anger and frustration at them. He smiled grimly as they exploded soundlessly, one after the other.

Eocho drifted through Harry's shield and hovered behind him, waiting for him to pause. When Harry ran out of obelisks to destroy, he spoke.

“A most impressive display, Maglios, but do you not think you might channel your anger better?”

Harry paused and turned to look at Eocho. He seemed startled to see his mentor, though he had unconsciously shielded him when he'd entered the room.

“Anger is a powerful feeling,” Eocho said softly. “Properly applied, you have power to move mountains, Maglios. But this uncontrolled, unbridled display is most unseemly. Especially when you interrupt my lessons.”

Harry glanced over at Luna and Hermione, both of who smiled encouragingly at him and he felt suddenly embarrassed. “I apologize, Honored Teacher. I was angry and not thinking properly,” he said, looking down at his feet.

Eocho stared at him hard for a long moment. “Yes, there is great anger in you, Maglios. And even greater power. The two make for a difficult mix. Go to the corner and center yourself, while I finish my lessons. Then we shall speak of how to use your anger properly.”

Harry bowed slightly to his mentor and walked over to the corner, dropping the shield he had held on the two girls. Once in place, he stripped out of his shirt and shoes, then began to work on his Ti Chi sets.

Eocho drifted back to two girls, smiling at them both.

“Honored Teacher, is he alright?” asked a worried Hermione.

“Yes, my child, he will be fine. Your chosen has a great temper, which he must learn to control. I thought I could wait to teach him, but it seems I must start today. He saw something I know not, but it disturbed him greatly and caused his magic to slip from his control, something that should never be allowed to happen.”

“Harry will be fine, Hermione. He has you and the rest of us to help him,” murmured Luna. “He's just upset today because of what he saw.”

Hermione turned to look at her strange friend intently. Luna often had flashes of insight that others didn't. “Do you know what he saw, Luna?” asked Hermione hopefully.

The blond shook her head. “No, I don't. But I do know it shook him.”

Eocho stepped forward. “Enough. I will help the Maglios when we are done here. Now, let us talk about how proper placement of the runic stones will allow you to cast a spell over a very large area...”



* * *



Hogwarts Castle...

Severus Snape gave the potion one final stir and then sat back on a stool. The two Cauldrons of Chaos had been delivered several days ago and, as expected, he had been able to successfully create the final potion required. He had sent word to Voldemort two days ago that he'd be ready today. Now it was just a matter of waiting.

Snape moved away from the small cauldron and returned to the manuscript that most clearly defined the ritual. Some parts of the description were missing, so he used other books to help fill in the blanks. He had removed several of the nearby work benches in order to create the necessary space for the ritual, and had spent the last three hours balancing his time between covering the floor with runes and tending to the final potion. It hadn't been easy. The steel cable which tethered him to the ceiling had to be lengthened by several feet so he could kneel down on the floor to draw the runes, and that required Voldemort's permission.

The door to the dungeon banged open and Snape looked up, his expression paling. After all this trouble, he still wasn't sure that he wouldn't be the first victim of this ritual in over two thousand years. He didn't think so because it would leave him unable to make any more of the potion. But Voldemort wasn't known for making rational decisions.

The two guards stepped into the room. Both pulled their wands out and motioned Snape to move to the back of the room. Severus raised both hands and walked backwards until he bumped into a wall. He stayed there for a moment, shivering, and a line of sweat appeared on his brow. Voldemort then swept into the room and eyed him dangerously.

“So spy... I have been informed that you have completed the potion successfully?” he said in a condescending tone.

Snape nodded frantically.

Voldemort glanced at one of the guards behind him and the man hastily conjured a chair for the Dark Lord to sit on.

“So... Explain the process to me,” Voldemort commanded.

“M-M-My lord... the process is quite simple. With the three potions, you can absorb the power of another wizard or even that of a muggle.” he said, then slowly slid into lecture mode.

“Many people think Muggles and Squibs have no power, but that isn't accurate. They have power, just not enough to activate a wand. You could siphon the power of twenty muggles to get the same power as from one weak witch. But it works best with witches and wizards.

“There are three potions required. The potions in the blue and green flasks are for the victim, the white flask contains the potion of absorption, which you would drink.”

Snape halted when Voldemort held up a hand.

“You will demonstrate this process,” Voldemort said, then he snapped his fingers.

Two Death Eaters appeared in the doorway with a weakly struggling woman. She was filthy, heavily bruised and her clothing was torn. She was bleeding from somewhere under her skirt and moaning pitifully. Snape quickly schooled his face into a blank mask as he recognized the former Ravenclaw and Head Girl, Penelope Clearwater. Behind her walked Walden McNair.

“Severus, so this is where you have been hiding,” McNair said with a sneer. “This slave was scheduled for disposal since no one wanted to use her anymore.” he said, then he kicked Penelope.

She fell out of the grip of the two Death Eaters and lay on the floor moaning. Snape gestured to the two Death Eaters, who reluctantly reached down and pulled Penelope to her feet.

“Take her over and position her in the center of the pentagram,” Snape said in an emotionless voice. He walked over and picked up the blue flask and a small ceremonial knife. Immediately, the two Death Eaters by the door had him under wand point. Voldemort raised one hand stopping them and Snape turned away from them, walking to where Penelope stood.

He looked at the two Death Eaters holding her. Placing the knife on a nearby work bench, he reached out and grabbed Penelope by the nose. She gulped a mouthful of air and struggled harder as the two Death Eaters tilted her backwards. Snape leaned forward and as she opened her mouth once more to take a breath, he poured the contents of the blue flask into her mouth. Then he dropped the flask and forced her mouth closed, while still holding her nose. She struggled weakly for a second, then she swallowed the potion.

Once she had swallowed, Snape stepped back and told the two Death Eaters to release her. Penelope swayed dangerously, as if she was going to fall, then she straightened up and stared at Snape with hate filled eyes.

“Traitor! Potter was right about you...” she snarled. Then she tried to spit at him, but it was too much of an effort for her. Slowly her eyes glazed over and she ceased all motion.

“She is now ready to begin the ritual. The first potion accomplishes two simple things. It gives her the innate knowledge she needs to complete the ritual, and the overwhelming desire to do so. Since the ritual won't begin until the recipient steps into the receiving circle, she'll stand like that until she dies of dehydration or starvation.

“McNair, drink the contents of the white flask, pick up the green flask and the knife, give both to the girl and then step into the receiving circle. The green flask contains a concentrating potion. It will concentrate her magic, then she'll release it. The potion in the white flask protects you at the same time as allowing your core to absorb and enlarge enough to accept what she gives you.”

McNair quickly picked up the white flask and downed the potion, then he grabbed the green flask and knife, handed them to the girl and stepped into the circle just outside of the pentagram.

Penelope blinked at McNair for a moment, then she uncorked the flask. She placed the open flask at her feet and then sliced her wrist deeply. The blood dripped at a steady rate down her palm and she moved her arm so that some of the blood fell into the open flask.

The blood continued to drip into the flask until there came a hissing sound and smoke poured from the flask. Dropping the knife, she bent down and picked up the flask and drank the potion.

Penelope shuddered a few times and a look of sheer terror appeared on her face. It was possible to see she was fighting for control over the first potion and losing. Raising both arms over her head, she looked upwards as if in prayer.

“Ego tribuo vos meus vox,” she shouted. Then she looked back down at Snape, sheer horror written on her expression. A bright pulse of light flowed down her body and into the pentagram and her scream caused many in the room to flinch back in sheer shock as her horror of what was happening to her was transmitted in that agonizing sound.

The pulse of light hit the pentagram and flowed into the receiving circle, enveloping McNair. McNair arched his back and screamed in reply as the power flowed into him, forcing his magical core to expand.

Pulse after pulse of light left Penelope. Faster and faster the pulses came, until they merged into a steady stream. After McNair's initial scream, he had settled down and seemed to be smiling, even standing a little taller, if that was possible.

Penelope, on the other hand, continued to scream, but her cries grew steadily weaker until there was one final bright burst of light as her core collapsed. She gave a strangled cry and collapsed in the center of the pentagram.

McNair stood breathing heavily and flexing his fists. He smiled thinly at the unmoving form on the ground. McNair turned and nodded gratefully to Voldemort and knelt. “Thank you for this boon, my Lord. I will use it in your name and your name alone,” he said, then bowed until his forehead touched the floor.

“Yes, Walden, I know you will,” Voldemort said sibilantly. “After all, you know the price of failure, do you not?”

McNair cringed on the floor and nodded vigorously.

Voldemort turned his attention back to Snape. “Well spy, what are the side effects?” he asked in a dangerous tone.

“My Lord?”

Voldemort smiled thinly. “Come now, Severus. Even I know a dark ritual like this is not without side effects and caveats.”

Snape winced and nodded lamely. “You can only partake in the ritual once in a fourteen day period, my Lord, and the texts clearly say this ritual should not be repeated more than twenty times. They don't say what will happen, but it can't be good if they are warning against it.”

“And the victim?”

“She is dead, my Lord. The ritual drains everything from her, including her life force. Only a small part of her magic goes into powering the ritual and some is lost in the transfer, but the bulk goes to the one in the receiving circle,” Snape replied.

“Excellent. Prepare enough potion for myself and some others I will select. I will use the ritual to increase my power and the power of some of my personal guard,” Voldemort said, then he stood and turned for the door. He paused in the doorway and turned back to Snape. “Severus, you may yet prove your usefulness to me. I am pleased. I think I'll have one of the slaves sent down here for your enjoyment. Use her, and teach her to clean your cauldrons. We can't have a Potions Master of your caliber wasting his time on trivial matters.”

Snape bowed low to Voldemort, ever mindful of his precarious position. “Your generosity is overwhelming, my Lord.”

“Yes, it is,” Voldemort said, smiling thinly. With one final look at the corpse, he turned and left the room with McNair scurrying behind him.

The two Death Eaters picked up Penelope's body and followed McNair from the chamber and the door to his dungeon slammed shut. Snape leaned heavily against a table and wiped the perspiration from his forehead. Well, at least I won't be alone in here all day anymore , he thought bitterly.



* * *



Parliament Building, London...

Lucius Malfoy sat and stared sourly at the pile of parchment and paperwork sitting on his desk. It had sounded like running a country would be a wonderful thing, but no one had told him about all the work it entailed.

The door to his office opened and his aide, an oily wizard by the name of Hammersmith, stepped into the office.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” asked the younger wizard.

“Yes. I want a progress report on young Dudley,” Lucius said with a deceptive smile.

Hammersmith nodded. “Yes, sir. Young Dudley was rather intransigent at first, but as you suggested, a carrot and stick approach worked well enough. Judicious use of the Cruciatus curse when he was uncooperative and rewarding him when he was cooperative made him see reason. Since then, he's been rather well behaved.”

“And what is he learning?”

“Right now, Sir, it's mostly basic physical training. He wasn't in very good shape. We turned him over to one of the muggle military trainers, who thinks he's being trained for a secret assassination mission overseas. Apparently, one of the muggle government organizations used to carry out secret assassinations, so the story turned out to be quite believable.

“Anyway, he's undergoing intense physical training and also learning the use of some of the muggle firearms. When he's done especially well, the muggle trainer will allow him some time with one of the girls we keep around to entertain the troops. We've also discovered that Dudley has some unique tastes in his women and prefers to be rather rough with them.”

Lucius nodded and waved the man to silence for a moment. Dudley's sexual preferences wasn't anything he was interested in.

“When do we think he'll be ready to use?”

“We still need another few weeks, Sir. We take him at least once per week to see his parent's bodies, as you ordered. And we've done everything we can to reinforce the idea that Harry Potter is the reason why his parents are dead. His rage against Potter is becoming quite intense.”

“Excellent. Most Excellent. Stay on top of this project, Hammersmith. I want him ready as soon as possible. Try offering him more incentives, even if it means catering to his unusual tastes,” Lucius said thoughtfully.

“I'll do that, Sir. Will there be anything else?” Hammersmith asked.

“No... Yes. Send that idiot, Akers, to me. He's been sending me reports about troop movements all week and it's giving me a headache,” Lucius replied wearily.

“Yes, Sir,” Hammersmith said, then exited the room.



* * *



Ballincollig, County Cork, Ireland (Evening, June 5th)…

Albus Dumbledore paced back and forth in his little room and swore sulfurously. Charlie had warned him that the Government in Exile considered him a wanted fugitive, but he thought he could sneak into the town, or perhaps just talk his way in, depending upon who he met at the apparation point. His status didn't bother him very much. The Aurors had been unable to catch him when Fudge and Umbridge ordered his arrest, and they wouldn't be able to catch him now.

If ever there was a time for making mistakes, now was not that time. And yet, today, he had made a colossal mistake.

He had been walking up to the main apparation point of the town of Haven when he detected the surge of magic and decided to investigate. Apparating over the town to the northern area, he had entered a wooded section of land and moved south towards the wards he could sense. There was plenty of magic flaring in the area and he suspected a battle of some sort.

Moving from tree to tree, he had arrived on scene just in time to see several men apparate away. He crouched down behind a tree and watched as Harry Potter knelt over a wounded man, then the wounded man and another vanished. Harry then turned and spoke with the other men for a while. That was when he made his mistake.

The spell he had cast was very low power, undetectable by his standards. All it would do was allow him to listen to what Harry was saying. But Harry had apparently sensed the spell and cast a revealing charm. He thought he managed to apparate out in time, but he wasn't sure. It was a foolish risk and one he wasn't prepared for. He wasn't ready to confront Harry right now, especially after he had found that the Ministry wanted him.

Dumbledore paused in his pacing and considered his next move. He needed to get inside Haven... and soon.



* * *



Padfoot Manor...

Harry leaned forward and hung his head down. Then he felt a pair of hands massaging the back of his neck and he leaned into the touch.

“Another headache?” Hermione asked softly.

“Yeah. Danni says they're just stress headaches and repeats her advice about taking it easier or taking some time off,” he replied, then he looked up, scanning the room.

People were still coming in. He had called for a meeting of all his advisers tonight and people were coming in from all over Haven. The only person that would be missing from this meeting would be Tonks, who was up north on a mission for the Irish.

He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch.

“I'll talk to Remus. Maybe we can arrange for a weekend break,” Hermione suggested, still massaging the base of his neck.

“That would be nice. Maybe we could even go to a movie or something?”

“I'd like that,” she replied, smiling at the idea. “It looks like everyone's here now, Harry.”

He opened his eyes again and looked around. “Yeah. I best get this show on the road,” he said, standing up.

The room fell silent as everyone noticed Harry moving to the front of the room.

“Thank you all for coming on such short notice, but I have something I want to show everyone. It's a memory. I placed the memory into a presentation pensieve about an hour ago. Both Remus and Hermione witnessed that the pensieve was empty prior to my placing the memory in it.”

Harry paused as glances were exchanged. Harry's method seemed very extreme, as if he were trying to set a legal precedent or something.

“After the Pensieve plays a very short sequence, I will ask everyone a single question. Then I'll go into more detail about what you were seeing. Remus, would you start up the pensieve, please?” Harry said, motioning to Remus.

The image above the pensieve grew to nearly full size.

Harry raised his staff high above his head. “Patefacio meus os” he muttered and the staff glowed as the nearby trees turned transparent. There was a popping sound and he had a brief image of an old man apparating away.

He let Remus replay that sequence several times before stopping him and turning to face his audience. “I know who I think that person was. I could feel his aura and his magic. The question is, who do you think it was?”

Harry looked at everyone, no one wanted to break the silence, so he called on Minerva McGonagall.

“Minerva?” he asked softly.

“It looked like Dumbledore, Harry,” she replied.

“Arthur?”

“Dumbledore,” came the reply.

Harry went around the room. Some, like Bertrand Lovegood and Narcissa Black, were unsure and therefore unwilling to say one way or the other. Most, especially the Outcasts of Hogwarts, thought it was the former Headmaster. While it wasn't unanimous, the majority seemed to feel the image was that of Dumbledore.

Harry leaned against the mantle of the fireplace and crossed his arms, facing everyone. He had long since bled off the anger he felt concerning Dumbledore and he really didn't want to go through another lecture from Eocho about controlling his temper.

“That image,” he said in a voice that could barely be heard, “came from my recollection of the Death Eater attack on Haven today.”

“What?” Arthur shouted as he jumped to his feet.

“Tis true, Arthur,” said O'Dalley. “I wasn't there at that moment, but I spoke with my men who were. They also saw the old man before he apparated.”

Minerva sat shaking her head, trying to come to grips with what Harry was saying. Finally, she pinned him with one of her patented McGonagall stares. “Are you implying that he's joined forces with Voldemort, Harry?”

Minerva's voice cut through the room like a knife, silencing every argument instantly. She had long ago learned how to pitch her voice to be heard over the din of students and this was no different. All eyes turned to Harry.

Harry shuffled his feet and ran a hand through his hair nervously. “I honestly don't know, Minerva. What I do know is after the fight, we were cleaning up and talking about the prisoner when I sensed another spell being cast. It was really low powered, I barely felt it and well... you see the result,” he replied with a shrug.

“I, for one, do not believe that Albus would have joined forces with Voldemort,” Amelia stated in a matter of fact tone.

Harry looked at her curiously and motioned for her to explain her point.

“Well, consider the two men. Both are egotistical to an extreme, and diametrically opposed to the goals of the other. We know that even when Dumbledore was harming Harry, he was still fundamentally opposed to Voldemort. The two are incapable of working together,” she said. Several others in the room nodded in agreement.

“I tend to agree with Amelia as well, Harry, but I think it would be wrong to automatically discount the possibility that he has joined forces. I think it's improbable, but not impossible,” Remus said softly.

Minerva sat for a moment, then nodded her agreement.

Harry looked around the room. “Alright, is there anything we can do if he has joined forces with Voldemort?”

The room was silent and several people exchanged glances, then O'Dalley coughed. Harry looked over at him expectantly. “Yes, Michael?”

“Well, my Lord, we can increase his fugitive status. We tell the Irish and other Ministries that we now suspect him of crimes and consider him a high flight risk, rather than just being wanted for questioning. I know we've tried to play his status low key, but increasing his fugitive status would bring more pressure to bear on him. Additionally, by informing the Irish of his involvement in today's little fracas will give them reason to want him, as well.”

Harry couldn't help but smile as O'Dalley made the distinction between himself and the Irish Government. He was on permanent detached assignment from his government and he was fully intent on letting everyone know he was a Havenite. He had even spoken to Remus about relocating his family to the town as soon as the school year ended.

Harry looked to Amelia, as this advice was out of his league.

Amelia pondered it for a moment before speaking her thoughts.. “Yes, it would put more pressure on him, especially if the Irish put out a wanted poster on him. But I'm not sure what his response would be. We could force him into the open, or force him underground, in which case we'd never find him.”

Harry's expression hardened. “If he comes into the open, we'll deal with him. If not, we have more important issues to deal with and, to be honest, he's draining our resources. If a poster can send him scurrying for a hole to hide in, I'm all for it.”

Amelia and O'Dalley nodded in agreement. “I'll contact Minister Mallory tomorrow about it, Harry,” Amelia said calmly.

“Michael, did we get anything out of the man we captured?” asked Harry.

O'Dalley managed to partially hide his disappointment. “Not much, my Lord. We managed to confirm that he came from up north, in the region of Armagh like we suspected, but that's about it. The Death Eaters on his side of the Irish Sea are playing it close and not divulging a lot to the uninitiated. On the other hand, the Irish are ecstatic about this capture. Apparently, this bad boy is wanted for a number of anti-muggle crimes, including murder and rape.”

Harry smiled grimly. A moment later, the atmosphere relaxed even further as Dobby and Winky popped into the room, bringing drinks and dessert.



* * *



The Weasley Residence, Haven...

Bill and Charlie Weasley looked up as the front door of the cottage opened. When Arthur and the twins entered, Bill smiled and set his book aside.

“We've been wondering where you three have been,” Bill commented, noting the tired expressions on their faces.

“You've missed dinner,” Charlie added, watching them closely.

“There was a meeting up at the manor,” Arthur told them as he sat down the couch.

“Discussing the attack, were you?” Bill asked.

“Yes, for the most part,” Fred confirmed, taking off his coat and hanging it up on the coat rack.

“So was it just some random Death Eater attack, then?” Charlie asked curiously.

“Yes. Well, maybe. There was an interesting and totally unexpected element to it, though,” Arthur said, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying to fight off the headache he felt coming on.

“Oh?” Charlie asked, sitting forward on his chair and closing his book.

“It seems Dumbledore was involved somehow,” George piped up, sitting next to his father.

“Dumbledore!” both Charlie and Bil exclaimed.

“Yeah, strange isn't it? Would have thought the old man would have been smarter than to get himself involved with that bunch,” Fred told them, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest.

“We don't know that he was involved, Fred,” Arthur said. “It only appeared that way.”

Fred shrugged. “Whether it's true or not, I still say he has a big pair of brass ones to show his face around Haven.”

George snorted. “Regardless of what they're made of, if Harry catches him, his balls will be hanging over the mantel place in Harry's library.”

“Really not a picture I needed,” Bill said, scowling at a grinning George.

“How do you know it was Dumbledore?” Charlie asked his father.

“Harry's pensieve memory of the event,” Arthur said.

When Bill started to argue with George, Charlie looked down at his feet, thinking quickly. Pensieve memories could be altered. Dumbledore had told Charlie enough for him to know Harry would do anything to discredit Dumbledore in the eyes of the magical world. Altering his memories enough to implicate the greatest living wizard to fight for the light would fit neatly into Harry's plans.

Charlie looked up then, watching his family and trying not to scowl. Harry was dragging the Weasley family into darkness and turning them away from the one man who could save them from destruction.

After retiring to his room later that night, Charlie pulled out his journal and wrote down the events of the day, including the fact that Harry and many others now believed Dumbledore to have been involved in the attack on Haven.

The next morning, a message was waiting for him in the journal. Proceed with plan. Will explain all when you have completed your task.

Closing the journal and slipping it under his bed, he made his way into the kitchen. Finding his father alone, sipping tea, he knew he'd find no better time.

“Morning Dad,” he said, pouring himself a cup.

“Hello, Charlie,” Arthur replied sleepily. “You're up early.”

“I wanted to talk to you about something without having to deal with the others.”

“Oh? And what would that be?”

“With Bill, the twins and me here, things are getting a bit crowded. I was thinking of putting up a cottage of my own. You said there was still room for more buildings around town, and I found the perfect spot for one. It's quiet, away from the hustle and noise.”

Arthur frowned. “Are you sure? We could enlarge the cottage if it's just a matter of space.”

“No, it's not just that. Dad, I've been working on dragon reserves for a few years now and I'm not used to the noise level of so many people around all the time. The twins come in at all hours of the night and I'd forgotten how loudly Bill snores,” Charlie said, chuckling. “It's funny. The occasional dragon's bellow I can handle. But kids screaming at each other? Men and women laughing and playing music in the town hall? It goes right through me now.”

Arthur placed his hand on his son's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Well then, since you're sure, we'll go over the maps of Haven and make sure your building site is available and see about getting some of the house elves to help with construction.”

“Maybe we could stop off and get breakfast when we're done?” Charlie suggested.

“I'd like that.” Arthur finished his tea and stood. “Let's get started, then.”



* * *



The Broken Wand, Armagh, Northern Ireland (June 10th)...

The Broken Wand pub was probably one of the worst Wizarding pubs in Armagh. Even the water was watered down, and the sawdust covered floor hid centuries of dirt and blood that had been spilled in the dive. The Leaky Cauldron in Diagon Alley had achieved an effect of appearing mid-eighteenth century inside. The Broken Wand appeared to be mid-fifteenth century and, unlike the Leaky Cauldron, the interior ambiance wasn't deliberate.

The normally run down building appeared empty and deserted during the daytime and only assumed an air of activity after dusk. To a passing muggle, the building looked burned out, a by product of years of conflict between Catholics and Protestants.

The slightly graying man turned the corner and walked down the street towards the pub. Looking in both directions to ensure that no muggles were visible, he opened the door slightly and stepped inside. He was a modestly built man with a receding hairline and a touch of a pot belly.

The man looked about as dangerous as a neighborhood girl scout selling cookies. Remus called it her Pettigrew impression, a persona so innocuous, no one would suspect Tonks was a fully trained Auror.

For the past five days Tonks had been coming into this pub every evening and participating in an illegal card game. Undercover work was slow, time consuming and stomach churning work. She had slowly been accepted by some of the players, but only because she tended to lose a lot, and was free with buying drinks. During the last week, she had picked up a few rumors. She had learned that the brothel down the street offered bulk discounts and polyjuiced prostitutes. She had also learned that Mickey, the bartender, was a part-time fence, as well as being a dealer in illegally charmed muggle objects and a number of narcotic potions.

The key thing she had also learned was that there was a strong anti-muggle sentiment in the pub and that if one were the right type of person, work could be found for a wizard with anti-muggle attitudes.

“Did ya hear what Mickey said? He said Mason needed some boys for a job in a few days.” said one of the players known only as Jones.

“Wouldn't hurt to earn a few quid,” Tonks said diffidently, while looking at her cards.

The others looked at Tonks in surprise. She always seemed to have money to play in their game, and plenty to lose.

Tonks looked at the others. “What? Did yer think the pot was bottomless or sumting? I know you fellas have certainly taken more than yer fair share from me.”

The men laughed and one of them slapped Tonks hard on the back. “Aye, that we have, but yer kept coming back fer more Teddy!”

Tonks smiled sheepishly and nodded at the men. She always used her father's name when working undercover as a man.

“So what kind of job is it? Anyone know?” asked Tonks.

Jones snorted. “Knowing Mason, it's either killing or cleaning up after one. He runs with a rough crowd. We hate muggles,” he said, pointing to himself and his friends, “but we mostly complain about them. Mason likes to take matters inta his own hands.”

Tonks scowled. “I ain't too fond of muggles meself. They drove me outta business,” she asserted. “You gents have been relieving me of the last of my quid.”

The other men nodded sympathetically. “Ain't it the truth! Muggles and muggleborn move in and, next thing you know, yer outta work!”

Jones poked Tonks in the shoulder. “If you don't mind getting a wee bit of dirt on yer hands, tell Mickey to set up a meeting with you and Mason.”

The next time Mickey came over with a round of watered down beer, Tonks slipped him a fiver and made quiet arrangements to be introduced to Mason when he came in later that evening. Then she settled down and played the hands dealt to her despite the fact that Jones was cheating outrageously.

After two hours of losing steadily, Mickey walked over to her and leaned down. “You wanted to meet Mason? Take the corridor in the back. He's in the second room on the left.”

Tonks nodded and shot the man a nervous look, then she smiled nervously at her friends before folding her cards and standing up.

“Good luck, mate,” called Jones.

This is what Tonks had been hoping for all week. She had learned from the Irish that Mason was one of the meaner crime bosses and if anyone was working with and knew where the Death Eaters were, it would be him. She opened the door and stepped into the dimly lit corridor. No neat sconces lit this area. The earthen corridor plunged downward at a sharp angle and was lit by a few smoky torches. From what she could see, the corridor was very long.

It took her nearly three minutes to come to the first door on the left, and she estimated that she was now a good fifty feet underground. The earthen corridor slowly gave way to roughly hewn stone.

After a walk of nearly five more minutes, she came upon the second door. This door, unlike the first, was more ornate. The heavy oaken door had highly polished brass hinges and a ornate lion headed knocker. Above the knocker was an interesting crest, which appeared to be made entirely of gold. It held a lion and the words “Vires in numerus”.

Tonks blinked in surprise. She had seen the crest before, but couldn't recall exactly where or when. She hesitated a moment longer, considering the crest, then she knocked on the door.

There was a moment of silence, then the door swung inwards revealing a room cast almost entirely in darkness. She guessed it was a small antechamber to a much larger room. She stepped inside and waited. The door swung shut behind her and the far wall fell away from view, revealing a brightly lit room with several dozen people watching her. She moved to grab her wand when two wands pressed firmly against the back of her head.

“Move another inch, mate, and they'll carry you out in spoon size bits,” a voice growled behind her.



* * *



Authors Notes:

Oh Evil cliff hanger! How could we do this to you? Why would we do this to you? Simple, it's (a) fun and (b) all Alyx's fault. Blame her. She's the one that let us run out of pizza.

Alyx and I are thinking about renaming this section of the file. It's at the bottom of the file, maybe we can call it the Dregs, or the Scrapings? Maybe its like the bottom of the barrel, you know where things start getting moldy and have a strange unappealing odor like those socks you once left in your gym locker for six months. Don't deny it! I have pictures to prove it, and the coroner's reports. So anyway right now this is still the Author's notes, not to be confused with Arthur's notes. And mind you we don't mean the PBS Arthur either. I hate that little bugger.

For all those whining about Charlie. Don't worry, eventually things will get straightened out with him. BUT in the mean time the more people whine about him, the more fun we're finding it to torture him. Not only do we get to twist Charlie, but we get to torment you, our lovely readers who have failed to send us any crispy crème donuts. So there.

For those wondering about Ron's body. What does a spider usually do with it's victim after its fed? Go away you twisted sick people that want dead bodies to appear.

OK. LISTEN UP PEOPLE, BECAUSE THE NEXT PERSON THAT CLAIMS CHARLIE WOULDN'T LISTEN TO DUMBLEDORE IS GOING TO GET AN AVADA KEDAVRA ENEMA. Charlie was raised believing that Dumbledore didn't fart. Nope, the man passed his gas into an alternate dimension and could do no wrong. His parents told him Dumbledore was the leader of the light, the pin in pinnacle, the ace in space! His parents told him how Dumbledore saved the world, and the spotted owl from the evil clutches of Colonel Sanders and his sidekick Grindelwald. In other words, since the red headed kultz has spent the last five years running around shoveling dragon dung and basically ignoring the rest of the world. He don't know jack about what Dumbledore has been up to. And Arthur didn't want to try to cast aspersions on his ex wife by writing Charlie a letter saying 'that bitch followed that asshole Dumbledore and I nearly ended up in jail because of it!” So does Charlie accept Dumbledore? YES HE DOES. If you don't like it, duct tape your fingers before you decide to leave another review questioning why Charlie is doing what he's doing.

Things are finally starting to move along. It took a while, but getting all the starting pieces in place, and explaining why things are the way they are took a while. Unfortunately this is no longer your standard Harry boffs girl, Harry kills bad guy story. It's become a multinational epic tail and we even include the French (sorry, our contract clearly stated we had to include the French and Canada, we managed to wiggle out of Canada, but we're stuck with the French). You just won't believe the logistics for this tale! Why its taken us ummmm minutes on map quest to pick out locations! And the art work! Oy Vey!

To Bob S, who claims to have 'snorked' at the last chapter. We're terribly sorry about that and hope you didn't permanently damage anything important. Lord knows a good 'snork' is fun now and then, but we also know how addictive and damaging they can be. At the bottom of this file, just for you, we have included a recipe for an anti-snorking potion. That is if you can find Snorkack. Need I really explain that Snorkack is kack from a wild Snork?

For all those who want to see Dumbledore cross the line. Well I think you'll find this chapter interesting.

To everyone that complained about the ranks being assigned by the house elves and the fact that they seem to be totally random. Well of course they are. The Elves are getting the ranks from bad British war movies (Did they ever make a good war movie?) So don't complain to me. Don't complain to Alyx, complain to the Elves.

On a more serious note..... we will try to include at least one date in every chapter so that people know when they are. We realize that some have gotten lost and turned left when they should have turned right. But we'll straighten you out.

Crys, we're sorry if you're getting pissed off at our characters. But isn't that the point? I'd rather have you pissed off at them than at me. *** Grin ***

UPDATELESS LIST ADDITION!!!!!

Yes, it's another addition to our updateless list. This useless little list is designed to highlight what I consider are true gems of fan fiction, or would be if the authors actually updated them once in a while. Candidates for the Updateless list must have not been updated within the last sixty days. And I have to approve them.

So without any further fanfare, here's this chapter's UPDATELESS WINNER!!!!

Harry Potter and the Mind Mage by James Milamber.

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/1905554/1/

This gem hasn't been updated for over six months and is probably abandoned. If this were being updated on a regular basis I'd be recommending this as a wonderful story. As it is, it's disappointing because its incomplete. Good read, no end in sight. Sigh.





Sunrise Over Britain

Chapter 8 - Score one for the good guys


Standard Disclaimer:

“Are you sure this is how you want to do this?” Alyx asked while she eyed her husband curiously.

“Trust me,” proclaimed Bob. “It's the latest rage to do disclaimers while wearing nothing but a thong.”

Alyx thought about it for a moment, then nodded. “Alright, but you do realize that all the Alan Rickman fan gurls out there are going to go ape when they see Snape in a thong.”

Bob stopped and stared at her in confusion. “I meant for you to wear the thong, not him,” he muttered darkly.

The curtain opened and standing in the middle of the stage was an mortally embarrassed Severus Snape wearing nothing more than a thong. It was a loverly shade of green with a hint of racing stripes.

The audience gasped, and the sound of projectile vomiting could be heard from where Harry and his friends sat.

Hermione stood, her arms outstretched. “I'm blind!” she screamed.

Ginny fainted and Luna turned to Draco with a look of shock on her face. “He's paler than you are!” she murmured. Draco, who was busy hurling over two rows of seats was too busy to answer her.

“The authors of this confusing tale have informed me that they have no wish to be confused with JK Rowling. They do not own the rights to the Potter Universe, or all rights therein. And furthermore I feel I must protest being forced to wear this obscene garment.” Snape said, trying to summon up his dignity.

Bob leaned over and pushed Alyx's mouth closed, then wiped her chin free of drool. “He's not Alan Rickman,” Bob said conversationally. “Besides, thats an exploding thong.”

Alyx turned to glare at Bob. “I hate you, you do know that don't you?”

“Yes dear,” Bob replied smugly.

The curtain closed, then it billowed out from the explosion.

Alyx eyed the stage carefully. “Oh dear, we'll have to replace those curtains now.”

Bob nodded and contemplated his next disclaimer. Torturing Snape was to much fun!



* * *



Sunrise Over Britain

Chapter 8



* * *



Padfoot Manor...

Eocho drifted through the manor as he did every evening. He was very circumspect in avoiding the bedrooms, but it wasn't uncommon for him to come through a wall into one of the many sitting rooms or studies and join in a conversation with the people he found there.

It was late and he had just finished an extended session with Hermione and Luna concerning rune stones and what they could do. Hermione had explained to Eocho what Harry thought in regard to Dementors and her own research into them. He agreed it did sound like an ancient curse and the magic certainly had the capability of forcing such a transformation. For the past few days he had helped Hermione with her research in trying to understand the curse in the hopes of finding a way to lift it.

He paused before drifting through another wall and shook his head. If he had been corporeal, he was certain he would now be suffering a headache. Luna had joined Hermione in her research but, where Hermione was looking for a counter curse, Luna was convinced an answer already existed and she just had to find it.

“It all comes down to balance, revered Teacher. Nature will not allow one form of creature without an countervailing form to balance it,” Luna said dreamily.

“But, Luna, there are plenty of creatures we are aware of that do not have counterparts. Vampires, for instance or werewolves,” protested Hermione.

“Hermione, you know werewolves are a result of a disease and not a true species. The same can be said for Vampires. Look at how they spread their species, by infecting others. No, if you want to examine balance, you need to see the true species. Manticores and Nundus are balanced by dragons. The Griffin and the Sphinx, Acromantulas and Basilisks, Nifflers and Side Whomping Uninooks, the Great Land Whale and Purple Plummaged Acroroc” Luna said seriously.

Eocho paused and turned to stare at Luna, Hermione blinked in surprise. Luna didn't miss a beat, she simply stood and faced the two.

“No, we must consider how to find a way to restore the balance.” Luna said as she paced back and forth.

“My child,” Eocho said gently,“the Dementors are the result of a curse and not created by nature. Does nature even consider them a species of hers?”

Luna waved a hand, dismissing his concern. “Nature had to approve the change in the first place or the curse would have turned the caster into a five legged Grabow. Mind you, no one has ever seen a five legged Grabow before. Most people see the more common seven legged Grabow, but only just before it hurls itself from the tree to rip out their throat. No, nature had to agree to such a change and they are a species at this point. Their population grows, although no one has ever studied their reproductive cycle. Hmmm. I wonder if I can obtain a Mastery in magical creatures if I were to study it?”

Hermione shot Eocho a pained look, and his brow wrinkled in confusion.

“Well then, Luna, what do you suggest we do?” asked Hermione, who was still trying to figure out where the conversation was going.

“About studying their reproductive cycle? Oh, I suppose it would be fascinating, Hermione, but since your dead set on killing them all off, don't you think that would be a waste of time?” the blond asked, staring over Hermione's right shoulder at a very interesting spot on the wall. She was certain the spot had moved, as it used to be over Hermione's left shoulder.

Hermione resisted the urge to grab her hair and pull it out by the fistful. “No, about the Dementors and your idea about balance,” she said through gritted teeth. Then she turned to glare at Eocho... or tried to. Their revered teacher currently had his head stuck through the wall and the noise coming from the next room sounded suspiciously like laughter.

Luna looked startled, then suddenly focused on Hermione. Her eyes narrowed as she stared at the older witch for a moment before her eyes misted with unshed tears.

Hermione reeled under the onslaught of Luna's emotions, mostly joy and happiness. She started to push herself away from Luna, but the blond's focus changed, releasing her from the emotional storm.

Eocho pulled his head from the wall and turned to watch his students.

“We've truly come a long way if you're willing to ask my advice on something, Hermione,” Luna said softly. “I never thought I'd see the day when you'd ask me for advice.”

Hermione smiled tremulously at Luna. “I know we've had our differences, Luna. I don't always understand you and I'm not sure I ever will. But those of us who know you also know how intelligent you are. I know you can help with this.”

Luna sat down across from Hermione. “Since I brought this up, I'll ask. I'm still not entirely sure it's a valid path.”

Luna closed her eyes and took a few breaths. A fine soft green glow surrounded her and it seemed to contain hundreds of twinkling lights.

Hermione looked at her, unsure of what was happening, then blinked in surprise when she heard a small pop beside her. A strange, eight legged cat with a prehensile tail looked at her for a moment, then vanished with another pop. All around the room bizarre creature after bizarre creature appeared with a pop, then vanished a moment later. Perhaps the weirdest creature was the short naked man with a horn protruding from his forehead. He looked angrily at Hermione and shook his fist at her, then grabbed himself and gave her a rude hand gesture before he vanished.

When Luna finally shook herself and opened her eyes, the glow faded. She looked around the room for a moment, then smiled sadly.

“What was that?” asked an amazed Eocho.

Luna stood and brushed a speck of imaginary dirt from her skirt. “Oh, I had to ask Nature if I was on the right track.”

“You --- You communed with nature?” asked Eocho incredulously.

Luna smiled dreamily. “Of course I did. Communing is nice and all, and it's wonderful to commune with Draco when we're making love, but it's not all that useful elsewhere. I mean, I tried communing with a tree once, but that didn't work very well, as we don't speak the same language at all. But communing while making love works very well.”

Hermione peered at Luna inquisitively.

Luna, spotting her expression, snickered. “Try it, Hermione. It's fascinating.”

Eocho shook his head, sat down on nothing, and stared at the girl.

“I must go now. There is a book growing in the Haven school library that I need to check. It may hold a clue to our problem. And Draco needs me tonight,” Luna said, as she walked from the room.

There was a moment of silence after Luna left.

“Did we accomplish anything with this meeting?” Hermione muttered.

“Yes child, we did -- I think. Luna picked a path to research – and you and I both received a lesson in patience,” Eocho said, still staring at the door Luna had exited.



* * *



Washington D.C....

Ambassador Sir Reginald Williams closed up his office for the evening and locked the door. It had been another hectic day. The U.S. Government had graciously offered the British Government in Exile space in which they could house themselves. The British Government had accepted. The Royals were being housed in Canada, along with a large number of members of the House of Lords who had managed to flee the country. But the real working Government would be in the United States so as to be closer to the United Nations.

Sir Williams' destination now was one of the more obscure buildings provided by the Yank government. The large warehouse had been a white elephant when the Yanks first offered it. No one knew exactly what to use it for. Then the Embassy began to receive packages from 'Case Green'.

The Rolls Royce pulled into the driveway, it's small Union Jack flags snapping in the air stream. As soon as the car stopped, the driver jumped out and opened the door to allow Sir Williams to exit. Nearby, a small group of men and one woman waited respectfully.

One from their group broke away and approached Sir Williams. “Ambassador Williams? I am Dr. Raleigh, from the Smithsonian National Museum. My government asked me to assist you as best as I can,” said Dr. Raleigh, offering his hand.

Sir Williams smiled thinly and shook the Doctor's hand. “I take it you have been briefed then?” he asked.

“Oh yes, Sir. We even have a representative of our Department of Magic with us tonight, an Agent Jackson,” he replied in a hushed tone and then he pointed to the smartly dressed woman who nodded to both men.

“Very good, then. Shall we begin?” he said, and led Dr. Raleigh towards the locked door of the warehouse.

After the door was unlocked, the group entered and huddled by the doorway while Sir Williams searched for the light switch. When he found the panel and started flipping switches, the interior lit up under the glare of overhead halogen lamps to reveal hundreds of crates.

“When the shipments first started arriving from 'Case Green' we weren't sure what to make of it. But then the Prime Minister briefed me on what was occurring. At the time, people thought it was a case of theft. In reality, it was an attempt to preserve the cultural heritage of the United Kingdom. From what I understand, some of the objects are under a 'stasis spell' and our purpose tonight is to figure out which objects they are, and get them to a proper storage facility that will be supplied to us by the U.S. Government. It is my understanding that this 'spell' cannot last forever and the items under the 'spell' will begin to decay if not taken care of?” Sir Williams looked to the witch for confirmation.

“Yes, sir. The spell is really only good for a few months at the most, then it will wear off,” replied Agent Jackson.

“Right, then. Dr. Raleigh has brought sufficient people with him tonight to begin categorizing everything, so let's get cracking.”

Agent Jackson conjured a table and several chairs so that she, Dr. Raleigh and Sir Williams could sit comfortably, while the others fanned out, checking the labeling on the crates. Dr. Raleigh was called several times to view the contents of certain crates.

Raleigh looked up from the growing list of inventory. “Some of these items are true treasures, Mr. Ambassador. Some have never left your country before,” he said in a low murmur.

“Yes. We got quite lucky, I think. But I don't understand how even a building as big as this one can hold some of these objects. According to the manifests we have, there are some naval vessels in the lists,” replied Williams.

“Shrinking charms,” replied Jackson with a shrug. “Very easy to cast. They can make anything you want both smaller and lighter. I remember one time we stole an entire Soviet MIG29. The agent in charge of the operation concealed the plane in the bag full of children's toy models and walked right through customs, telling them the toys were for his son.”

“So the Victory is really out there?” asked Williams in disbelief.

Jackson shrugged her shoulders. “Probably. It is, after all, on the list, Sir Williams.”

He was about to reply when another voice shouted for their attention. “Dr. Raleigh, come over here!”

All three turned to see one of Raleigh's men gesturing wildly from one of the many paths between the crates. Curious, all three stood and walked over to the man. The man was pale and trembling violently.

“George?” asked Raleigh with no small amount of alarm.

“What is going on?” asked Williams in concern.

“This is George Anderson, Sir William. He is our expert in Egyptian Antiquities. He holds the position I once used to hold. Something has him very upset,” replied Dr. Raleigh.

George pointed with a shaking finger at the label on the side of the open crate. Raleigh peered at the label. Reading the contents, his eyes lit up with joy. Turning from the label he lifted the top of the crate and peered in.

Dr. Raleigh slammed the top of the crate back down. Trembling violently, he took three steps back from the crate, his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish, then seemed to fold in on himself as he fell into a dead faint, hitting the floor hard.

Both Agent Jackson and Sir Williams moved forward in alarm.

“It's the Rosetta stone... it's whole again!” whispered George Anderson, whose eyes then rolled up into the back of his head as he, too, fainted.



* * *



Ballincollig, County Cork, Ireland (June 10th)…

When the knock came on the apartment door, Dumbledore palmed his wand. He was expecting Charlie Weasley, but one could never be too careful these days. Opening the door a crack and seeing the redhead, Albus opened the door fully and ushered the younger man in. Closing the door quickly, he cast several security charms on the door before turning back to his guest.

“You had no problems leaving Haven, then?” Albus asked.

“No. I was able to apparate from my cottage,” Charlie told him as he dug through one of the pockets of his coat. “I have the map you requested. Rather than taking one from the Ministry, I made my own.” Pulling the map from his coat, he turned to look at Dumbledore, and his jaw dropped.

The man standing before him looked...appalling. The flowing hair and beard were gone, as were the magnificent robes Albus normally wore. In front of him stood an average looking old man with little hair, no beard and wearing a worn looking, plain brown robe.

Albus laughed at the younger man's expression. “I will assume, from your look, that I pass muster, then?”

“What have you done to yourself?” Charlie asked, shocked.

“I could not walk around Haven looking like myself, could I? No, a disguise was needed. A glamor might have worked for awhile, but eventually someone would have seen through it. It has been so long since anyone has seen me without my hair and beard that a visit to a muggle barber in Cork, and some second-hand robes, took care of the problem.”

Charlie stared at him dumbly for a moment before shaking his head. “No one would ever mistake you for Albus Dumbledore as you are now!”

“And that, my dear boy, is the whole point. Between Harry's Pensieve memory and the Aurors around him the day of the Death Eater attack, my looks are a little too well known around Haven at the moment.”

“Speaking of that, Sir, what happened? How is it you became involved with a group of Death Eaters?” Charlie asked, his expression grim.

Albus scowled. “I was not involved with them, Charles. I made a mistake, nothing more. I detected magic being used and was curious.” He shook his head. “I apparated to the area and watched the fight, trying to figure out what was happening. I should have left when the fight ended, but I wanted to hear what Harry was saying. My mistake was in using magic to listen to the conversation. Somehow, young Harry detected the casting of my spell and exposed my position.”

“Harry has convinced those around him that you are in league with Voldemort's forces in Ireland because of that incident,” Charlie told him seriously.

Dumbledore met Charlie's gaze fully, his expression sorrowful. “I realized the moment I was caught that he would use the incident to his advantage. My mistake has given him a tighter hold on his people.”

Charlie's fists clenched at his sides. “We have to find some way of breaking them free, Sir!”

“I am working on it, Charles. Now, let me look at the map.”

“Oh, right.” Moving to the kitchen table, Charlie unfolded the map of Haven he'd made and spread it out on the table. “It's all here, including those empty buildings still awaiting businesses.”

Dumbledore studied the map carefully for several minutes, noting the location of the new Ministry's building, the Weasley's cottages and the town square. “And the manor? Where is it located?”

Charlie frowned. “I don't know. I've never been invited there and wasn't going to press my luck by just showing up.”

“Interesting. Well now, tell me about this building, Charles.” Albus pointed to a place on the map, very close to the new Ministry building.

“As of this morning, it's still empty. It's two story, if you count the attic,” Charlie replied, a little confused.

“Is that all you can tell me?”

Charlie rolled his eyes. “I don't mean to be rude, Sir, but perhaps if I knew what you were looking for, I'd be of more help.”

Dumbledore watched him for a moment, then smiled. “I'm going to open a pub, Charles. I need an appropriate building for that purpose.”

“A pub?”

“I will need some reason for being in Haven, Charles. Harry has invited Irish citizens into the town to open businesses. What's more Irish than a pub?” Albus asked him, his eyes twinkling merrily.

Charlie's eyes widened for a moment, then he turned to the map and frowned. “The building you're interested in would work fine for such a business. The attic should be spacious enough to suit as private quarters, and you're close enough to the community hall to pull in people.”

“I am not so interested in making money from this endeavor. Bringing in customers is the least of my concerns.”

“You might want to rethink that. It would look odd if a publican cared nothing for profits and customers.”

Dumbledore beamed at Charlie and slapped him on the back. “You are correct, of course. Besides, if the pub is popular, the information I need will flow right through the front doors!”

Charlie grinned. “Alright, what's next?”



* * *



Under The Broken Wand, Armagh, Northern Ireland (June 10th)...

Tonks froze when she felt two wand tips pressing up to the back of her neck. Slowly she moved her hands out where they could be seen.

“Move forward. Do as your told and you might make it out of here alive.” hissed the voice.

Tonks moved into the larger room. There were several tables set up and, along side one wall, sat a heavy set man with a lithe girl on his lap. The man watched with indifference as they prodded Tonks in his direction. The girl continued to nibble on his ear for a moment before removing herself from his lap to sit on the arm of his chair where she could watch the events unfold.

One of the men behind Tonks began to roughly search her, relieving her of wand, watch, wallet and other items, including the Irish supplied emergency portkey.

She winced inwardly, then remembered the bracelet she wore that Harry had given her. For some reason that was overlooked by her captors. The person who had searched her dumped her possessions on a table in front of the seated man, and then stepped back.

The burly man leaned forward in his chair and rummaged through the items. He spent some time looking in the wallet. “So, Mickey says you wanted to talk to me?” drawled the burly man.

When Tonks didn't respond, she felt a wand dig painfully in to her back as a warning, and she nodded. “Mickey said you had work for people. I need work,” she said nervously. Tonks had been in some bad spots before, but this one ranked right up there. Her only consolation was Harry's portkey.

The girl looked through the stuff on the table and then picked up Tonks' wand, which she looked over carefully. She looked quickly at Tonks, her eyes narrowed, then back at the wand. When her eyes widened slightly, as if in surprise, Tonks tensed. But when the girl simply twirled the wand in her fingers as she sat on the edge of the chair, Tonks forced herself to relax.

“Mason,” she said in a whining tone. “He's kinda cute, in a dumpy sort of way. He reminds me of a teacher I once had.”

Mason glared up at the girl who nodded back to him. The girl leaned closer to Mason, allowing her blouse to fall away from her body and giving Mason a distracting view.

“Dammit, Angie, I can't keep helping every stray that stumbles in here. I have a business to run!” protested Mason, trying to tear his eyes away from the girls cleavage.

“But, Mason,” she whined. She shook her shoulders slightly, causing his 'view' to move encouragingly.

“Fine! Bring him into the office and I'll find him something,” growled Mason.

The rest of the men all looked around, trying to avoid his gaze. Mason may have been the one running the syndicate, but Angie ran Mason and they all knew it. And they all knew better than to say anything to Mason about it.

Mason stood and stomped his way into a small office. Tonks followed him silently, with Angie prodding her in the back using her own wand.

Once in the smaller office, Mason took seat behind the desk. Angie pulled out her own wand and sealed the door before casting several privacy spells.

“Now, what would Nymphadora Tonks be doing with an Irish Ministry portkey?” asked the girl, who was calmly twirling Tonks' wand in her hand.

Tonks paled. “Who?” she stammered.

“Drop the disguise, Nymphie,” the girl said with a smirk, then moved over to stand next to Mason. She reached out and fondly ruffled his hair before turning her attention back to Tonks.

Mason raised his wand and aimed it at her chest.

“Well?” Angie said again, her voice hardening.

Tonks sighed and morphed back into her normal state. Mason's eyes widened and he glanced up at Angie, who looked smug.

Tonk nervously fingered her portkey bracelet and Angie's eyes widened. She couldn't see the bracelet, but she could see her fingering something.

“Don't do it, Tonks. Not everything is as it seems here,” said the girl hurriedly, then she turned to Mason. “Dear, would you kindly undo my charm?”

Mason looked up at her for a moment, surprised, before nodding. He waved his wand at Angie and the girl changed into an older, more mature version of herself.

“Angela Ollivander?” Tonks blurted out in surprise.

Angie smiled and winked at Nymphadora before turning to Mason. “Tonks entered the academy just after I graduated, dear. I remember her well. We were all excited about having the first metamorph in nearly a century enter the academy. Tonks,” she said, turning back to the young Auror, “I'd like you to meet Mason Long, my husband.”

Angie walked around the desk, motioning for Tonks to sit, while she conjured some tea. Tonks eyed her warily.

“Oh, do relax, Tonks. Your arrival solves a whole world of problems for us.”

“Quite. We've been out in the cold for months now, since the fall of the Government. Our network dried up. Are you now working for a Irish? We're willing to help,” offered Mason.

Tonks looked back and forth between the two. She had known Angie when she was just a cadet. Angie had been a hotshot rookie who'd quickly made a name for herself. During the academy years, there hadn't been a single female cadet who didn't look up to her, awed. She had quickly become a legend in the DMLE as an undercover operative. But Tonks had lost track of Angie a few years after she had graduated.

Angie placed a hand on Mason's shoulder. “I think that Tonks is still unconvinced. I know I would be, in her position.”

Then Angie reached over and gave Tonks her wand. “I remember hearing about that wand, you see,” she told Tonks. “Uncle Ollivander was in seventh heaven when you commissioned it. A wand containing one of your own hairs? Very powerful, but it will only work for you.”

For the first time Tonks began to relax. Only a few in the Ministry knew about that. And Ollivander, of course. His niece had probably learned about it from him.

“Angie, what the devil is going on? Just what is one of the DMLE's most successful female undercover operatives doing in Northern Ireland?” Tonks asked in exasperation.

Angie smirked. “Now, now, Tonks. Is that anyway to talk to someone who probably just saved your life?”

“It is a valid question though, dear,” Mason said quietly.

Tonks turned to look at Mason, who appeared to be at least twenty years older than Angie and Irish, at that.

“Don't let his accent fool you, Tonks. He's been MLE longer than both of us combined. And to answer your question, we've been here for a number of years now, running the third largest syndicate in the city. It's a good cover to keep an eye on the troubles. Or it was, at any rate. But with the Ministry gone, we're adrift here.”

Tonks nodded thoughtfully. Running an undercover operation as a criminal element would be different and above suspicion as far as both sides of the Irish conflict were concerned. The Ministry of Magic's position on the Irish troubles was a simple one. Keep the Wizarding world out of the conflict, no matter which side they picked. The Irish troubles with their religious overtones of Catholics versus Protestants troubled the Wizarding World, and they wanted no part of it.

“So what is the deal, Tonks? Have you become free lance or something?” asked Angie with a hint of steel in her voice.

“Freelance? Merlin, no. I still work for the DMLE, but I'm on loan to the Irish...”

“Wait a second! The DMLE is still around? Who's running things?” asked Mason incredulously.

Tonks frowned. “Don't you folks up here get the Dublin Daily?”

Both Mason and Angie nodded. “Yes, we do, but that rag is nearly as bad as the Daily Prophet or Quibbler. You really can't trust it,” protested Mason.

“Well, you can trust this. There is a Ministry of Magic in Exile based in Haven. Amelia Bones is the current Minister and Miles Pickerton is in overall charge of the war effort, including our DMLE,” Tonks said quietly.

Mason and Angie exchanged a look. It was a common occurrence between long time spouses and, with it, they could communicate volumes. Then Angie turned back to Tonks.

“Can you put us in contact with Miles, then? We've been out in the cold since the government fell, running without any guidance or support,” asked an anxious Mason.

Angie placed an hand on his arm. “Wait a second, love. Tonks, why are you here?”

“Like I started to say, I'm on loan to the Irish. They are worried about a cell of Death Eaters that made it over to Ireland before Harry put up the ward.”

“You mean that ward is real?” asked Mason, a bit awed.

“Of course it's real. I was one of those who helped Harry raise it,” Tonks said, grinning.

“And it really works?” asked Angie, the doubt evident in her voice.

Tonks frowned and remembered her academy days when Angie gave guest lectures. And how she'd teased her about some of her magic. “Oh, it works alright. Harry's got more ability than any wizard I've ever seen,” replied Tonks hotly.

“Wait, wait... We're getting off track, love,” said Mason, trying to divert his wife. “We have a chance here to come in from the cold. Let's concentrate on that.”

Angie paused, then nodded. “You're right.”

Tonks watched the two of them for a moment. She envied the relationship they seemed to have. But one thing was clear, two of the DMLE's best operatives were coming in from the cold, and she would facilitate that.



* * *



Hogwarts Castle (June 12th)...

The atmosphere in the Chamber of Secrets would always be dank and uncomfortable, but after the work Outcasts had done, it was considerably more cheerful than it had been. It was into this cheerfully dank atmosphere that Harry Potter appeared.

He had made small modifications to the new wards on the castle, which allowed him to move into and out of the room without being detected, but he wanted to keep his use of magic in this room to a minimum. That was why he appeared in the room with two full sized crates, rather than shrinking them before apparating.

Harry waited. It never took long for the ghosts to notice him. A moment later, the Bloody Baron arrived.

Harry bowed briefly. “I received your message, Baron. How can I be of service?”

The Baron stared at him for a moment, then another ghost appeared next to him.

Harry took one look at the new ghost and stumbled back in shock. “Penelope?” he asked in a whisper.

Penelope Clearwater smiled softly. “Do not mourn me or my passing, Harry. My life ended when the man I loved fell in love with power.”

Harry nodded, but he couldn't stop the tears that slid down his cheeks. He had never known Penelope well, but seeing her now, in such a state, hurt.

“The Dark Lord is using a vile ritual to steal power. The power is transferred from one person to another, killing the witch or wizard in the process,” she said, then her expression grew sad. “Such was my fate, as Walden McNair took my power and my life. Severus Snape is held in the castle, and is brewing the potions for this obscene rite.

As Penelope described the process, Harry grew more and more horrified. Finally he waved her to silence. “Baron... you were right to ask for me to come here and hear this first hand. I... I don't know what to say at the moment, but I will be back in a day or so. The crates contain more toys for Peeves.”

Harry bowed quickly to the Baron, then threw an apologetic look at Penelope before vanishing from sight.



* * *



Padfoot Manor...

Hermione and Emma looked up from the table when the door to the room burst open and Harry rushed past them and into the bathroom. The two were in the sitting room, off the master bedroom, and had been discussing handfasting plans and what Hermione would be wearing.

Hermione stood when she heard the sound of Harry retching. She started towards the bathroom, but Emma stopped her.

“Wait a moment, then go to him.” she said softly.

A moment later the toilet flushed and both felt the Brotherhood medallions they wore vibrate, signaling an urgent meeting.

Dan walked into the bedroom holding his medallion and looking at the two women curiously.

The door to the bathroom opened and Harry stepped out. Dobby appeared and Harry whispered something to him. The elf's eyes widened and he nodded quickly before vanishing. He appeared a moment later with a full bottle of Fire Whiskey and a tray of glasses.

Hermione took one step towards him. “Harry?” she asked in alarm.

He held up a hand, silencing her, and accepted the glass from Dobby with a trembling hand. Downing the drink in a single swallow, he sat at the table and rubbed a hand across his mouth.

“Harry, you're frightening me,” whispered Hermione.

He looked up and smiled weakly at her, then reached for her hand. “I'm sorry, love,” he said in a soft voice. “I'm pretty frightened myself right now. Please, just wait until everyone gets here and I'll explain what is going on. I don't want to have to say this twice if I can help it.”

His eyes begged her for a reprieve. He obviously only wanted to explain this once. One by one, the Brotherhood members filed into Harry's bedroom. Hermione took to conjuring chairs for everyone instead of pressing him for details. Among the last to enter were Luna, Ginny and Eocho.

Luna, more perceptive than most, took one look at Harry and then spun into Draco's arms, crying softly.

“Everyone's here, Harry,” Hermione told him softly.

Harry nodded and began to speak without looking at anyone.

“I received a message from the Bloody Baron today, asking me to meet with him. He had information that he felt was important enough to risk my apparating to the Chamber of Secrets. When I arrived, I met a new Hogwarts ghost. It was Penelope Clearwater. Do you remember her? The Ravenclaw prefect who used to date Percy Weasley?”

Ginny moved closer to Neville and he wrapped an arm around her protectively.

“Apparently, Voldemort is using a ritual which transfers the powers from one witch or wizard to another. The ritual kills its victim, painfully. The end result is a stronger, more powerful witch or wizard and a corpse. Penelope told me that Voldemort has Snape and another Potions Master brewing the potions for this ritual. Draco, remember that we wanted to know what those Cauldrons of Chaos were for? Well, this is it. The Cauldrons are needed because one of the potions is so volatile it would cause any lesser cauldron to explode.

“The only good new I can see in this awful mess is that a person can undergo the rite only twenty times, with two weeks between each ritual. The bad news is that Snape is brewing the potions for Voldemort, and another Potion Master is making them for members of his inner circle, but they aren't being brewed in Hogwarts.”

Harry stopped speaking and sagged slightly in his chair.

Hermione took the half full glass of fire whiskey he held and swallowed it quickly. Several others moved to pour themselves a drink. Dan and Emma were the only ones who didn't seem to understand the disgusting nature of the ritual.

“I don't understand why this upsets everyone so much. Yes, it's cruel and disgusting, but how is this different than the hundreds who are starving everyday in Britain right now? Why is everyone so upset?” Emma asked plaintively.

Hermione looked over at her mother. “Mum... a ghost isn't the persons soul. It's more like a recording of a personality. When Penelope had her magic ripped from her, what made her the person she was, her soul, was destroyed.”

“There is a belief that our magic is tied to our soul, Emma,” Remus said in a quiet voice. “To destroy one, destroys the other. Penelope was not only killed, she was destroyed, denying her an afterlife.”

Dan looked shocked and Emma shivered violently. The two were still coming to grips with the changes Harry had awoken in them, and the new world they now belonged to. In some ways, their Christian beliefs conflicted with the Wizarding world. But being told that an immortal soul had been destroyed? It not only shook the foundations of their belief, but they both began to realize that evil, true evil, did have a name: Voldemort.

There was another moment of silence, then Remus released the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. “Well, that explains that. At least now we know.”

Harry looked at him sharply. “Know what? Explains what? Remus, we have to find a way to stop this!”

“No, Harry, we need to let this continue,” Remus replied sadly.

Harry surged to his feet and face Remus. “What? Are you insane? He's destroying people, Remus! He's stealing their magic, killing them as painfully as possible, destroying their very souls, and you expect me to sit here and do nothing?”

Remus placed a hand on Harry's shoulder and closed his eyes, trying to block out the pain and outrage in the younger man's gaze. “You don't have a choice, Harry,” he said quietly. Opening his eyes, he shook his head. “Remember the prophecy conflict? Voldemort had to find a way to either bring his power level up to yours, or bring yours down to his. If we put a stop to this, the war will go on until he finds another obscene way of equalizing power levels. Frankly, I'm more concerned about his inner circle getting boosted than I am about Voldemort getting boosted. That will make the fight all the more difficult.

“I don't like this, Harry. I fully plan on getting myself quite drunk tonight. But I don't think we can stop it. I'm not even sure we'd be allowed to interfere. This has to happen,” Remus said, his eyes haunted.

Harry stared at his friend for a minute before nodded in defeat and turning away from Remus.

“How can we be expected to go up against wizards who are so powerful?” asked Terry, worriedly.

“Guile and intelligence,” Eocho said softly, and everyone turned to face him.

“When an enemy relies on brute strength, you must be smarter than him. That your foe may be stronger doesn't necessarily mean he is a better or more intelligent fighter. I know of this ritual that you speak of. It is evil magic at its worst. But even with its use, your enemy will have to rely on the combined strengths of himself and his inner circle to match that of the Maglios. And therein lies our advantage. The Maglios is not just a wizard, he is an enchanter.”

Several people looked confused.

“Of course!” Draco exclaimed, and all eyes swung to him sharply. “Harry can enchant objects at his power level. We've all been learning the rune stone magic. But if Harry were to make the stones, rather than someone like Mr. Granger, who is also an enchanter, the rune stones would be much stronger! That would mean we'd be able to cast at least the rune stone magic at Harry's level of power.”

Eocho nodded at Draco and smiled slightly. Several others in the room relaxed as they thought about the solution. Luna, who had been holding onto Draco, brightened.

“Voldemort isn't exactly known for recruiting the best wizards. McNair, and people like him, will be so enthralled over their own power boost that they'll consider fight training to be a waste of time,” murmured Remus reflectively.

“We're going to need to try to find out who is in Voldemort's inner circle,” Dan suggested. He glanced at Draco, who nodded and pulled out a small pad to make a note to himself.

“We need more than names. We need to find out as much as possible about them,” Draco said, mostly to himself.

Throughout the conversation Harry had backed himself up against a wall. He was having difficulty coming to grips with the idea that he had no choice but to let this abomination go unchecked.

“Voldemort wouldn't risk letting anyone in his inner circle becoming as powerful as he was, would he?” asked Hermione, her eyes on Harry.

“I don't think so,” replied Dan. “Voldemort has all the symptoms of being a megalomaniac. He'll let his people get boosted, but no where near to his level.”

Hermione walked over to Harry. She was concerned about his reaction to the ritual.

“Harry?” she said softly. His eyes looked haunted. The situation was much like the one they'd faced last year, when the prophecies said they had to leave Britain.

He leaned his head down so that his forehead touched her head and placed his hands on her waist. “I'll be alright,” he whispered to her. “It's just the shock of it. Stealing someone's magic... and then Penelope... we knew her.”

“Remus is right. If we stop this, even more people will die,” she replied quietly.

Harry sighed, and kissed her forehead. “I know,” he said, then turned to the others.

“Draco, we need to find out all we can about this ritual, it's limitations and what it does. I also want to know who is part of Voldemort's inner circle. See if you can get our elves to pry information from elves still attached to families in Britain. Eocho is correct. If we're going to go up against stronger opponents, we need to do something unusual.

“Ginny, get together with Fred and George. Talk to them about things we can do that will be lethal and fast. If we have to fight these people, we're not going to resort to jelly legs jinxes and the like. I want them taken down permanently. I don't want a single one of us to have to go into an extended duel with an opponent that strong.”

“Draco, brief Miles about this. He needs to know in case one of the teams runs across a boosted inner circle member.”

As Harry talked, he straightened up, discarding the defeated feeling he'd had since returning from Hogwarts.

As a group, everyone recognized the commands of the leader of the Brotherhood and they slowly filed from the room to consider various options.

Remus, Hermione, her parents and Eocho looked at him after the others had left.

“Oh, I'm alright now. I don't like what I have to do, but I'll do it. Besides, I have Hermione here to kick me when I start feeling sorry for myself,” Harry said with a lopsided grin, though it didn't quite reach his eyes.



* * *



Under The Broken Wand, Armagh, Northern Ireland...

Tonks leaned back in the comfortable chair and sipped her tea. This has to be the easiest undercover assignment I've ever had, she mused. She had no idea going into this assignment that Mason, along with his wife, Angie, were DMLE operators who had been cut adrift when the government fell. Once that had been established, she had spent many a comfortable hour talking with Angie, while Mason had the members of his syndicate locating the hiding hole of the Death Eaters.

Angie was surprised to learn that Tonks had become engaged, let alone to a former werewolf, and was now one of the leading citizens of Haven. Lupin's werewolf status was common knowledge, even to Angie, and Tonks had to explain how it had been altered, making him the first werewolf animagus on record. That revelation led to a discussion about Remus and Harry.

“Is it true he survived another killing curse, Tonks?” asked Angie.

Tonks was a bit surprised to discover that Angie, for all her hard headed pragmatism, was just a bit of a Harry Potter fan girl. “Yes. One of his dorm mates was a Death Eater. He hit Harry with the curse just before Harry destroyed the Ministry. It was the same day as the Bombing,” Tonks replied with a slight shiver. She remembered that day well. The fear and the sickening realization that events were in motion that no one could control.

Angie nodded reflectively. The Bombing had become a signature event in the life of wizarding Britain and Ireland. Ask someone of the older generations where they were when Grindelwald fell, and they would tell you, in exacting detail, not only where they were, but what they had been doing. It was the same with the Bombing.

“Yes, I remember,” Angie said softly as she, too, shivered.

“Harry doesn't like to talk about that much, or talk about his fame at all. Remember that when you meet him and don't bring that up. He'll be more interested in hearing about what you have been doing, both before and after the government fell, than talking about himself. He's a right modest bloke, when you get down to it. He doesn't think he's anything special at all.”

“Mason is like that,” Angie offered. “He's a mean fighter, one of the best I've ever seen. But unless he's out there...” she trailed off.

Tonks knew what she meant. Mason had two sides, one which he showed to Angie, and to Tonks since she was staying with them. And the side he had developed as part of his undercover persona. Two totally different personalities.

“Tonks, I'm confused about something. This ward that's been placed around mainland Britain. You say you helped Harry do it?”

Tonks sighed, then realized that it was better that Angie was asking her, rather than asking Harry about it. “We performed a power sharing ritual. Even Harry doesn't have enough power to do something like that himself.”

Angie nodded, her expression a bit wistful. Most modern wizards and witches had never performed in any ritual, or joined magic. It was something out of a nostalgic past and hearing about it made many wish for a time where people trusted each other enough to share power, or join each other in a rite.

“Is he really that powerful?”

Tonks was about to answer when the door opened and Mason entered, carrying a scroll and wearing a broad smile. “I knew it wouldn't take too long to track them down for you, Tonks,” he said, handing her the scroll.

Unrolling the scroll revealed a map with a large farm estate circled. Tonks looked up from the map, an eyebrow raised in question.

“According to my sources, this estate was nearly deserted three months ago. Then the number of people living there increased dramatically. It's only a guess, but I'd say there must be close to one hundred and fifty people living there now.”

Tonks blinked in surprise. “How did you find out how many are now living there?” she demanded.

Mason smirked. “One of the things my syndicate controls is dairy production and deliveries, Tonks, for all of Northern Ireland,” he gloated.

“Milk deliveries?” Tonks asked incredulously.

Angie's eyes twinkled. “Mason and I had an agreement. Before I married him, I made him get rid of the usual crime syndicate stuff like drugs and prostitution. So, he opted to try his hand at controlling certain key industries instead and left the drugs and prostitution to the other gangs. You can't buy a liter of milk or a piece of cheese in Northern Ireland without it having passed through Mason's hands. The same goes for fuel oil and liquor distribution,” she said proudly.

Tonks raised an eyebrow and looked at Mason, reassessing him yet again. Mason looked embarrassed by her scrutiny and shot his wife a glare for her bragging. Tonks snickered and turned back to the map, looking it over.

“Tonks, you know the Irish can't hit this place, don't you?” asked Mason seriously.

Tonks looked up at him, then her expression changed. She sagged in her chair as Mason's comment sunk in. He was right. The Republic of Ireland couldn't hit this place. She rolled up the map and looked at the two. “Can you get away for a day or two?” she asked.

Receiving nods from both, Tonks smiled impishly. “Good. Tomorrow we're bringing you in from the cold.”



* * *



Padfoot Manor, (June 16th)...

Harry stepped out of the manor house and stretched in the morning sun. It was only five thirty A.M., but he was awake and starting his day with a morning walk. It had become part of his early morning ritual. He could no longer jog the grounds, so he walked them instead, leaving peanuts for Nutters and his friends. After his walk, he'd swim for awhile before returning to the manor to have breakfast and start his work day. He had invited Hermione to join him on a number of occasions but she declined. She seemed to think that five thirty A.M. was an unreasonable hour to be out and about.

He shook his head in amusement. Hermione wasn't the most active of people, especially if one handed her a book. Her idea of enjoyment was sitting out in the sun, reading. Although Harry had made progress in changing her mind about that, he still hadn't convinced her that an early morning walk was a good idea.

After completing his morning Ti Chi sets, he turned to begin the exercises he used to stretch his leg muscles. In a way, he was glad Hermione wasn't there to witness how painful he found these particular exercises. He stopped when he heard a pair of pops behind him. Turning, he found Dobby and Pappy watching him.

Dobby's eyes held possessive pride as he gazed at Harry, while Pappy tugged on his ears nervously.

“Dobby? Pappy? Is there a problem?” Harry asked.

Dobby shook his head, but Pappy jumped right in. “No problem, good Master Potter. We, that is, us elveses, wishes to make the bond, if that be alright with you.”

Harry's eyes widened. “Now? Here?”

Pappy nodded vigorously.

Harry sighed in acceptance and the back yard of the manor was suddenly filled with the sound of arriving elves. As he watched, the field became packed with elves. It was an impressive sight.

Dobby walked over to stand beside Harry and he gently tugged on Harry's hand.

Harry turned his attention back to Pappy and the elves nearest him. Pappy straightened up and his ears stood straight out from his head. As one, the elves behind Pappy knelt on one knee.

Pappy walked forward slowly and he knelt before Harry. With both hands, he gripped Harry's right hand in his own and pressed it to his forehead. There was a ripple in the field of elves and a sudden roaring sound in Harry's ears. He swayed as the bonding of so many elves nearly overwhelmed his senses. He tried to protest. They were supposed to bond to Haven, not to him personally! He failed to understand that he personified Haven, just as the Headmistress personified the school.

When Pappy released his hand, Harry staggered backwards. He would have fallen had it not been for Dobby's magic catching him and holding him upright long enough to get his feet under him again. From the elves came a great cry of joy that shook the nearby trees, sending birds winging away in panic.

Harry looked around in bewilderment as the elves started to leave the clearing, heading off for their daily chores. He turned to see quite a few of the windows in the manor open and people leaning out to watch.

Remus watched Harry, the amusement plainly evident on his face, while Hermione frowned at him.

Harry looked ruefully at Dobby after seeing Hermione's expression. “I'm in so much trouble,” he murmured. Dobby nodded and his ears drooped noticeably.

Hermione pulled her head out of the window when she felt someone tugging on her nightshirt. Turning, she was surprised to find Winky staring up at her and tapping one foot.

“Miss Hermione, please tell me yous not angry with Master Harry,” Winky asked in a stern tone.

Since Hermione had bonded personally to Winky, the elf had become more assertive. While Hermione didn't think this was necessarily a bad thing, there were occasions when Winky's assertiveness seemed a little out of place.

“Winky, you saw what Harry just did out there,” Hermione said, pointing out the window.

Winky walked over to the dresser and started pulling Hermione's clothes for the day out. “Yes, Missie, Winky saw Master Harry save the lives of many elveses. They not bond with Master Harry, but used him to bond to this place,” she replied with a shrug.

“Winky just doesn't understand, Missie. You know the elves will get sick without a master. Even Dobby would be happier bonded to Master Harry. But you shouldn't be angry with Master Harry. He didn't do anything to deserve being angry about,” Winky scolded as she placed clothing on the bed.

Hermione sighed and nodded in agreement. “I know, Winky, but it's a habit. I hate the idea of you being enslaved,” she said, beginning to dress.

Winky shook her head in amusement. “I know Missie hates elveses bonding, yet her own bonding is even harder.”

Hermione stared at the little elf in shock. “My own bonding?”

“Miss Hermione loves Master Harry. Master Harry would do anything Miss Hermione asks of him, as Miss Hermione would do for him. We all live with bonds of some kind, Miss Hermione. And all we can do is pray we bond with a gentle soul, like you and Master Harry. He is a kindly master. He loves Dobby, even loves Winky. He greatly loves you, Miss Hermione,” Winky said in a serious tone while she set about making the bed.

“But...but... but it isn't like that,” protested Hermione.

“Winky thinks it is. But if it makes yous feel better, you can think differently,” Winky said smugly as she smoothed the bedspread.

Hermione sat down on a nearby armchair and stared out the window, thinking. Winky had disarmed her with elf logic, and not for the first time.



* * *



Armagh, Northern Ireland...

The eagle owl slowly flapped its wings while on the last legs of its long journey. Hitting a thermal current, the majestic bird relaxed and let the current lift it high above the landscape. Thanks to its keen eyesight, the large bird spotted the destination and began a slow spiraling glide towards an open window in the farm house far below.

Dolohov looked up from the letter he was writing as the large bird flew in and landed gracefully on the table. The bird had a small pouch around its neck contained dispatches. He removed the pouch and immediately started looking through the notes to see if there was anything which required immediate attention.

One item in particular caught his attention.

Dolohov,

The Master is sending you help. You are directed to send ten loyal men to Portmuck on Island Magee within the next five days. Be sure that the men are capable of working around Dementors. The contacts name will be Tarmash. Inform me when you have sent the men and make sure they are equipped to spend months away from Armagh.

Lucius

Dolohov rose from his chair. He knew a command from the Master when he saw one and, despite the fact that it came through Lucius, he wasn't about to ignore it. He quickly gathered the necessary men and sent them on their way before sitting down to reply.

Lucius,

As instructed I have sent off ten loyal men to Portmuck.

If at all possible, please convey to the Master that we are running dreadfully short of funds here. There is a local Gringotts branch up in Belfast we can access, or another on Stonewall Lane in Dublin. But we haven't any account access. If things do not change, we will be forced to resorting to larceny in order to finance our operations. While theft has never bothered me, it will increase our exposure.

I am enclosing copies of the Dublin Daily, which I doubt you've seen. I am sure the Master will be most interested in them. I was correct in my assessment that a great number of refugees had fled to Ireland. It seems that Harry Potter has created a town for them, which he named 'Haven'.

Potter has also overseen the formation of a British Ministry of Magic in Exile. According to the articles in the Dublin Daily, it has been recognized by the official muggle British Ministry in Exile. I do not have any way of getting into the town at the moment. I don't pretend to understand the political aspects of this.

I have confirmed the presence of a ward around the town of Haven, similar to one that now encircles mainland Britain. I sent a mixed team of loyalists and recruits to scout out Haven, but the loyalist leading the team was killed crossing the line and a recruit was captured. This ward makes it impossible for me to send any kind of mission to that town using loyal, marked followers. I could rely on unmarked followers, but their loyalty is questionable at best, and they are not even remotely close to being properly trained.

Please inform the Master of our activities and pass along my request for additional instructions. Your letter suggests the help he is sending might be capable of breeching the wards around Haven. If that turns out to be the case, we will attack as soon as I can get the recruits trained up.

Antonin Dolohov

With the reply complete, Dolohov placed the note and several old newspapers into the dispatch pouch and put it back on the owl.

The owl shot him a dirty look before leaping into the air and flying out the window for its long journey home.

Dolohov watched the bird until it dwindle into the distance. Then he stood, coming to a decision. His appeal for funding was more dire than he wanted Lucius to believe. He had very limited funding to start with, and paying for the food for nearly a hundred and fifty men was quickly eroding what he had. No, starting tomorrow he'd begin scattering his men about Ireland with orders to resort to crime to pay for their keep.

Dolohov walked to the door. He had plans to put in motion.



* * *



Government House, Haven (Later that day)...

“Minister?”

Amelia looked up to see Arthur Weasley's head sticking out of her fireplace. “Yes, Arthur?” she replied with a bit of a smile. She hadn't spent a lot of time working with Arthur before the fall of the Government, and his involvement in the crimes against Harry predisposed her to be wary of him.

But Harry had vouched for Arthur Weasley and she had come to discover he was a very hard working man. If he had a flaw, she could only say it had to be that he'd let himself and his family get caught in Dumbledore's web of lies.

“Minister, we've received notice from the Irish that Nymphadora Tonks is returning from the field and should be arriving shortly.. The notice went on to say that she asks that Miles and yourself be present for a special meeting.” Arthur said seriously.

Amelia frowned. “Very well, Arthur. Contact Miles and ask him to join me here as quickly as he can.”

Amelia straightened up her desk and made sure there was a fresh pot of tea handy. She didn't have long to wait before Miles and Arthur entered her office and the three barely had time to discuss the upcoming meeting when the door opened again, admitting Tonks and Mason and Angela Long. Amelia recognized the two undercover operatives almost instantly and surged to her feet.

“Angie? Mason? We thought you had either gone to ground or were lost to us,” Amelia exclaimed happily.

Mason shook his head and smiled at his old boss. “No, Director. It was more like one day we woke up and found our network had vanished without a word.”

After introducing everyone, Amelia waved the Longs to a pair of seats and looked at Tonks, who had set up this meeting.

“Minister, Mason and Angie were instrumental in getting the information that we, and the Irish, were looking for, but then Mason pointed out one critical fact that I don't think anyone here has realized,” Tonks said, scowling.

Amelia sipped her tea for a moment. “Oh?”

“The Irish can't go after these Death Eaters, Minister. They are on U.K. soil,” Tonks said softly.

The silence in the room was broken only by the hitching breaths of Amelia, Arthur and Miles as the realization set in. Legally, the Irish sending Aurors in to dig out the Death Eaters could be considered an invasion, an act of war.

“I think I have a solution to the problem, Minister,” said Miles, “And it solves a problem that has been bothering me for a while now anyway.”

Amelia motioned for Miles to continue.

“We're looking at roughly one hundred, maybe a hundred and a half, Death Eaters and sympathizers. Why not set up a international task force? I'll send a hundred of our boys, plus another hundred of the American and Canadians. The Irish can send a hundred of their own. The combined force will be double what we're up against and, because we're inviting the Irish to join us, it will be legal.”

“How soon could you ready such a force, Miles?” asked Amelia intently.

Miles leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling for a moment, thinking. “We have part of the force now, Amelia,” he said, his eyes meeting hers once more. “The Americans and Canadians are working with our boys and training to work together. The big issue would be the Irish. I'd want them to work together for at least a week to ten days before sending them in on a mission like this. Coordination and cooperation is critical, otherwise mistakes will happen, mistakes that could cost lives.”

Amelia nodded. She understood the complexity of running an operation such as this. “Arthur, can you meet with the Irish as soon as possible and let them know of the problem? Then invite them to join with us in a joint effort to clean up that nest of snake lovers.”

Arthur nodded and made a quick note on the pad he'd taken to carrying with him.

“Mason, you and Angie go along with Miles to the operation center. We need to figure out if it pays to keep you in place and rebuild the network or bring you in completely. Tonks, I want to thank you for your efforts. You achieved your mission, reestablished contact with valuable lost assets and did it all without getting injured.”

Tonks nodded and gave her friend an encouraging grin as Angie followed Miles and Mason from the room. Tonks was about to follow when Amelia stopped her.

“Auror Tonks, one moment more please,” Amelia said.

Tonks sighed and reluctantly shut the door. Turning back, she faced both Arthur and Amelia. “Minister?”

“I am quite serious about our thanks, Miss Tonks,” Minister Bones said in a formal tone. “Your contribution in locating the Death Eater cell will be duly noted in your file, along with a commendation signed by myself. But since you're here, I have one item that I would like to bring up with you.”

Tonks took one of the vacant seats and looked at Amelia curiously.

“I find myself in new territory and wish an opinion. As you know, I was Director of MLE for a number of years and during that time none of our operatives had the right to use deadly force, except in a case of either saving their own life or that of others.”

Amelia lifted a parchment and waved it at Tonks. “I have here a request from Miles and Harry, asking that the rules for deadly force be relaxed. And I have to admit I find it disturbing.”

Tonks frowned and leaned further back in her chair. “Minister, I'm an Auror. I was trained to catch criminals and put them in prison during peacetime. But this isn't a time of peace.

“Miles, while he won't admit it, was high up in the Unspeakable department. Judging from the way he fights, I'd say he participated in more than a few wet operations.

“Harry is a warrior, not a keeper of the peace. When he fights, he doesn't take prisoners unless they are no longer a threat to him or others.

Both of these men, and yes, I will call Harry a man, have come to realize that this isn't a case of arresting some criminal. It's war and war means fighting by a different set of rules.

“Neither of them are asking for this rule change because they are blood thirsty killers. They are asking that we give our people a better chance of coming home to their families. I was trained to be a cop, to use a muggle term. Harry and Miles weren't. We must remember that, no matter how upsetting we may find it, we are at war. And as with any war, you shoot to kill,” Tonks said, her voice laced with conviction.

Arthur nodded approvingly. “I have to agree with Tonks, Amelia. It's a necessary step, no matter how distasteful you might think it.”

Amelia relaxed in her chair and cleaned her monocle for a moment. “Very well. Arthur, have Miles draft a change of procedure and I'll approve it. Tonks, I appreciate your input. I ask because you know Harry enough to see his reasoning behind his request.”

Arthur took the parchment Amelia offered and made a note on the back of it before rolling it up again.

Tonks stood from her chair. “He just wants our people to come home to their families at night, Minister. He'll ask for anything that will help accomplish that.”



* * *



Padfoot Manor (June 20th)...

Dan and Emma were enjoying their afternoon lesson with Harry. He was teaching them the basics of Defense Against the Dark Arts, as well as defense against magical creatures. It was a class that both the Grangers found surprisingly enjoyable. Harry didn't expect either of them to actually go into combat in mainland Britain like some of the younger members of their group, but he wanted to make sure they were capable of defending themselves.

To reach that point, Harry had started teaching them Ti Chi to strengthen and center them, as well as give them the meditative skills they'd need for some of the other disciplines they would learn.

“The Patronus charm is the only known defense against Dementors and Lethifolds, and I'm afraid as far as charms go, its not really a very good spell,” Harry said ,while facing the Grangers.

“The Patronus is very hard to cast, and it will only drive off a Dementor or Lethifold, it won't kill it. It won't even injure it. On the plus side, a Dementor that's been driven off will rarely turn around and come back to attack again.

“The Patronus is difficult for a number of reasons. The primary reason being the total focus of the caster's mind on a happy memory. You must exclude everything that's happening around you and think only of that one, happy memory. Many wizards and witches fail to cast a Patronus because they're unable to find a memory happy enough. Those who can find a memory find themselves unable to focus on it to the point of ignoring the approaching Dementor while casting the spell.”

Harry showed both of them the wand movement, and had them practice for a few minutes.

“Remember, there is no shame if you can't do this right. It took me months to learn how to do it properly. And when you've done it right and have a corporeal patronus, it doesn't matter what form or size it takes. Now, let me show you,” he told them. He stood and turned sideways to them so they could see his wand movement.

He summoned up his happiest memory - Hermione telling him that she loved him. He smiled and whipped his wand forward.

“Expecto Patronum !” he shouted.

His wand spat out a great shower of silver mist, which formed into a giant stag. Prongs leapt forward, passing through the wall. Even Harry was impressed by the size of Prongs. The stag had grown to over twelve feet tall. He hadn't had to cast a Patronus in quite a while and apparently he had only gotten better at it.

Harry turned to look at Dan and Emma. “Emma, would you like to try?”

Nodding, Emma eagerly stood from her chair. “Expecto Patronum !” she shouted. Her wand spit out a silver mist, but it failed to turn into a corporeal form.

Emma looked at Harry, who nodded encouragingly. “That's really quite good for a first attempt, Emma. Most people don't even get the mist on the first try. Now, I think you need to consider using another memory to refine your feelings. Remember, you must use the memory that makes you happy when you recall it.”

“Can I ask what memory you used, Harry?” Dan asked.

Harry blushed.

“Dan, don't embarrass him,” chided Emma, “It's probably really personal and involves our daughter.”

Harry looked between the two and, if it were possible, he blushed harder. “No... no... it wasn't like that. I used the memory of when Hermione first told me she loves me. That was months before we started um...”

Harry ducked his head and blushed even harder while Dan and Emma exchanged an amused glance. Dan stood while Harry was distracted. Harry's comment gave him an idea.

“Expecto Patronum !” Dan shouted.

Dan's wand spat out a great deal of silver mist, which then coalesced into a small rabbit.

Harry gaped at the little bunny glowing on the floor. Emma snickered at her husband. Dan straightened himself up to his full height and looked at Emma with a haughty expression.

“It's not the creature that matters,” Dan said with a straight face, then he looked down at the glowing rabbit with a mournful expression.

Harry nodded in agreement. Privately he was not only surprised, but astounded that Dan could create such a powerful Patronus on his first attempt.

“Maybe I should get you some carrots?” offered Emma. Then she broke down laughing.

“No, no, this is really very good, Emma,” Harry said with a straight face. “This is a very hard spell to cast, and Dan is right. It's not the form of the Patronus that matters.” He tilted his head and examined the fuzzy little creature staring up at them. “Although, from the look of it, perhaps this is the bunny from that Holy Grail movie we watched the other night?”

Dan frowned and examined his Patronus more carefully, while Emma slid from her seat, laughing.



* * *



Haven Apparation Point...

“Name?” asked the bored guard.

“Rufus Radagast,” said the old man, dressed entirely in brown.

The guard made a note in his book and then handed the man a small map.

“Welcome to Haven. You are only a short distance from town. If you're looking to open a business, you need to visit the Economic Office in the town hall, which is in the center of town. The Ministry building is next door to the hall if you have business with the Ministry of Magic. Please remember that all Irish laws are enforced. May you have a pleasant stay in Haven.”

Radagast nodded pleasantly at the man and took the offered map, then turned and walked up the lane towards the town.

The guard made another note in his book and walked back into the small, one room office that had been set up to keep track of people entering Haven.

The process of opening a new pub in Haven was surprisingly easy. The Economic Office went out of their way to make things as simple as possible. By the time he left the office two hours later, he had a five year lease on the building he wanted and a shipper of pub supplies and drinks would be delivering samples for him to examine tomorrow. All in all, it was surprisingly easy.



* * *



Padfoot Manor (June 28th)...

Hermione woke when someone passed between her and the sunshine that was streaming in from the window. Blinking in the bright light, she could see Harry staring out the window.

“Harry?”

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean wake you.”

“What are you doing?”

“Thinking mostly and worrying,” he replied in a soft tone.

“Worrying? What's going on, Harry?” she asked, sitting up in bed and reaching for her robe.

“Caleb is leading the assault on those Death Eaters up north today. Three hundred fighters. Our people, Hermione. So many things can go wrong. I should be there with them.”

“Harry, we've been through this before. I know you hate sending people off to fight, but it's your job to lead, not to take part in every battle we have to face,” Hermione said in an annoyed tone.

“I know that. It doesn't mean I have to like it!” Harry snapped, then he frowned and ran a nervous hand though his hair.

“Look, Hermione, I'm sorry I snapped at you. I just can't get it out of my head that later today we may have people learning that they have a family member who won't be coming home again. Imagine how you would feel if you were in that position,” he said softly.

Hermione joined him at the window and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him tight to her.

“I know, love. It's a terrible burden, but trust Miles and Caleb to know their jobs,” she whispered, hugging him.

Harry nodded and continued to stare out the window.



* * *



Armagh, Northern Ireland...

Caleb sat huddled in the early morning rain and wondered for the tenth time why he hadn't become a healer like his mother wanted him to. Next to him, one of the Fairy Flier operators controlled the remote device. The floating hoop in front of them showed them what the Fairy was seeing and hearing. Which, at the moment, wasn't very much. The Fairy was positioned outside and looking in one of the farm house windows. As far as they could see, the room was empty. In fact, it looked like the entire farm house was nearly deserted.

Caleb's heart fell. The Death Eaters had fled while they were busy training the force!

Another man sprinted towards him, bent over and trying to maintain a low profile. He skidded to a halt and knelt down.

“Caleb, we found them. Send your Flier over to the barn,” said the man breathlessly.

Caleb nodded to the operator, who swung the Flier around and moved it towards the barn.

“Look for the storm cellar entrance. It's against the eastern wall. You'll find an open entrance,” the man told the operator.

Within moments, the Flier was peering into the darkened entrance of what appeared to be a large underground tunnel lit by torches.

Caleb leaned back on his knees and grinned. He turned to other man. “Excellent work. Send out the ward teams. I want those wards in place now. Once that's done, pass the word. We move in five.”

The man nodded and sprinted away. Caleb watched him for a moment, then turned back to his Flier operator. “Take us into the tunnel. Let's see what we're dealing with.”

The image changed as the Flier dropped into the tunnel entrance and moved further in. There was a long row of doors, all of which were closed. Caleb cursed and wished again that the fliers made by Q Branch had the ability to manipulate objects. Caleb glanced up to see teams of Aurors moving closer. He nodded approvingly to one of his team leaders as the group ghosted past his position, making almost no noise. Then he heard a funny shout.

Caleb turned back to the display for the Flier in time to see the Flier trying to back out of an open door. There was an inarticulate shout from the display hoop, a flash of light, and then the image when dark. The Flier had been spotted and destroyed.

“Shit!” muttered the operator, who looked at Caleb apologetically.

Caleb reached into a bag and pulled out a muggle flare gun. He fired it and then stood for a clear look at the farm in the distance.

“AURORS!” came a distant yell.

“Go, go, go!” shouted a nearby team leader.

All around the farm, teams of Aurors, British, Irish, American and Canadian, surged to their feet and ran towards the farm. Caleb could see men boiling up from several entrances around the farm house and other buildings and he cursed wildly. This was turning into a major screw up!

The Death Eaters set up a hasty defensive line protecting the entrances to the underground complex, while the Aurors moved closer.

A man ran by Caleb, running parallel to the farm house. He shot Caleb a thumbs up as he ran by. Caleb breathed a sigh of relief, the anti-portkey and anti-apparation wards were in place, the Death Eaters weren't going to escape that easily.

Caleb watched as his teams closed to within one hundred yards of the buildings, then everyone dove for cover as the Death Eaters started firing curses at anything at moved.

Caleb rushed forward to support his people. With the wards up, they had the Death Eaters surrounded, but they weren't going to give up without a fight.

Caleb winced when he heard someone scream. Up and down the line he could hear cries calling for the healers they had brought with them. He ducked and rolled to avoid a curse that passed his head by only a few inches.

The farm house itself was now on fire, its smoke obscuring the battle and making it difficult to pick targets. A group of Death Eaters broke from their ranks and ran towards the section of line where Caleb lay. They were receiving plenty of covering fire, which kept the Aurors in front of them from firing back, but elsewhere on the line, other sections were picking off the approaching Death Eaters as best as they could, considering the distance involved.

The wind shifted and smoke from the fire drifted over back over the battlefield in the direction of the breakout. Caleb coughed in the heavy smoke and looked up in surprise as a figure suddenly loomed over him. He surged to his feet and there was a flash of light. He felt his left arm go numb and something warm dripped down the back of his robe.

He snarled and cast a lethal cutting hex, catching the Death Eater just above the hip on a diagonal. The man screamed as his leg separated from his torso and he fell writhing to the ground as blood from multiple arteries fountained onto the ground.

Several Aurors cast a wind charm, trying to blow the smoke back and Caleb reeled in the murky air. Bright flashes of curse light lit the nearby smoke. Dazed, he stumbled back a few feet and tripped over the body of an American Auror. Several of the reserve squads, consisting mostly of Americans, moved up to his position. He watched as two men assembled something that resembled a muggle machine gun. Once it was complete, it started firing curses at high speed.

A hand landed on his shoulder and Caleb whirled, his wand at the ready.

“Whoa! Easy there, buddy. You're hurt and I need to check you over,” said a man Caleb didn't recognize.

“Who? You're American?” Caleb asked in confusion.

The other man nodded as he cut away the sleeve on Caleb's robe. “Yes, Commander. I'm a healer with the 806th, the Animagi Division,” replied the Healer in a proud tone. Caleb grunted and let the man work on him. The 806th was just one of the groups representing the American magical military that had been sent to Haven. They also had men from the 102nd Broomsticks and the 5th Sorcerer Infantry.

“What is that thing?” Caleb asked in confusion, nodding towards the strange curse firing mechanism.

“That? It's a prototype. We only have a few with us. It's a RFCG or Rapid Fire Curse Gun. It's enchanted to fire stunning spells, like your Stupefy . But it's not perfected yet. Once the gun has exhausted it's energy, we have to perform a complicated ritual to recharge it. It's good in forcing your enemy to keep their heads down, however,” the healer told him with a chuckle.

The healer frowned and sealed a bad cut along the back of Caleb's head, then he cast an immobilizing charm on his left arm. “You've got a nasty cut on your head and your humerus has been crushed. It will need to be regrown. I'd send you back to the hospital...”

“No, I'm not leaving my men,” Caleb said in a cold tone.

“I thought you might feel that way. Drink a sip of this pain killer. It will take the edge off what you're feeling, but leave your mind clear. I expect to see you in the hospital tonight, Commander,” the healer said with a shake of his head, then offered him a small vial.

Caleb drank as ordered, then he gathered up his wand and turned back to the battle.



* * *



The War Room, Haven Operations Center...

Miles paced the floor of the war room anxiously. It was bad enough that today was their first large scale operation involving forces from four countries, but he wanted to be with his men. To make matters worse, Minister Bones had arrived to watch the ongoing operation. She was joined shortly afterwards by Harry Potter and Remus Lupin, making Miles feel as though his job had become a spectator sport.

The room had been copied from something used by the RAF during World War Two. There was a large map against one wall. Along the other wall were a series of fireplaces, dedicated floo connections to key places. Next to the map was a blackboard, which someone had sectioned into a grid. One section read 'Ours' and had KIA and WIA with zeros next to them.

Harry, Remus and Amelia took up positions on the observation deck, trying to stay out of the way.

A small bell rang and one of the girls in the room moved over to put up a sign, stating that the forces were engaged.

“Are you sure this is a good idea, Harry?” Remus asked for the tenth time that morning.

Harry grunted and shot Remus a glare for a moment before softening it. “I know Miles probably doesn't appreciate us here, Remus, but I don't think I'll get an ounce of work done today. I'm not here to tell Miles what to do, but I want to know what's going on.”

“Here, here,” murmured Amelia, then she smiled slightly at the two men.

Harry turned to her. “I'm sorry, Minister. I realize this is really more your job than mine...”

“Nonsense, Mr. Potter,” Amelia said gruffly. “It was your actions which resulted in making all of this possible,” she replied, waving her hand to indicate the room they were in.

Harry leaned forward, scowling as the numbers on the KIA and WIA columns changed to two and twelve. Amelia's expression tightened as well. Remus gripped Harry's arm.

One of the girls walked over to board and wrote in a new category that read 'Captures'. Under it, she wrote forty two.

Miles glanced at the numbers, then up to the observation deck, expecting someone to say something to him. He was surprised when Amelia and Harry had shown up, but was pleased when they did not interfere with the proceedings. He knew how hard it was for them to remain silent.



* * *



Armagh, Northern Ireland...

Caleb sat on a large stone and looked up at the sky. The morning mist and rains had cleared away finally and it looked like it might turn out to be a decent day after all. He felt a nudge and he turned to see one of his own team members handing him an open canteen. He gratefully accepted it and drank deeply.

Most of the Death Eaters had been captured or killed. Now his men were mopping up. Several teams had entered the underground complex and were searching it for Death Eaters, as well as anything else of interest. The farm house was a total wash. The building had burned to the ground, along with anyone who might have been inside.

Several men had reported finding caches of dark artifacts and books in the underground complex. Soon, a second team would begin cataloging what they had found.

He winced. The pain potion he had taken two hours earlier was wearing off.

“Caleb?”

He looked up to see one of his men approaching. Caleb waved him over to sit on the rock with him.

“The Irish are starting to move the prisoners out, Caleb,” said the man.

“Why do I hear a 'but' in there somewhere,” Caleb asked with a frown.

“Well, the numbers don't quite match up. Between the bodies and prisoners, we have roughly one hundred and ten Death Eaters.”

Caleb scowled. There should have been more than that. “Are we sure no one escaped?”

The man nodded vigorously. “Yes. The wards would have indicated that. Heck, if someone managed to walk out, the wards would have told us.”

Caleb sighed. “Alright, make a note of the discrepancy and send it back to the Ops Center. What is our final count of casualties?”

The man consulted a piece of parchment. “We have a total of five dead and twenty two seriously wounded, including yourself. The rest of the wounded can be easily healed.”

“I want our wounded off the field as soon as possible. And make sure we bring home every body. No one gets left behind,” Caleb said in a firm voice.

“I'm glad to hear you say that, Commander,” said another voice from behind him. Caleb craned his neck around to see who had spoken. He got a brief glimpse of the American Healer who'd tended his injuries when he felt the tug of a portkey behind his navel.

Several of Caleb's men looked shocked for a moment, then they began to laugh. The healer grinned at them.



“You heard the Commander's orders. I don't know about the rest of you, but I have plans tonight that include a lot of beer, my wife and some serious time in the sack,” the healer said with a grin. Several men laughed and gave him a thumbs up, while a couple female Aurors grinned at each other. They were having similar thoughts.



* * *



The War Room, Haven Operations Center...

Harry couldn't speak for Amelia or Remus, but sitting in the Operations Center unable to do anything was one of the most nerve wracking experiences of his life. It was just before noon when Miles exited the war room and entered the observation deck.

“Minister, our forces are returning from the field. Preliminary reports suggest that we killed or captured over one hundred and ten Death Eaters and recruits. We have twenty two wounded and five killed from our forces,” Miles said in a voice laced with exhaustion.

Amelia nodded slowly. Emotionally, the day had been draining on everyone. Harry hated to think how tired the troops must be. After all, they'd done the hard work.

“And the Irish, Miles? How many did they transfer to the prison?” asked Amelia.

“I'm not sure of the exact number, Minister, but the last count I had was that the Irish had sixty seven prisoners, several of whom were badly injured. The number is bound to change. I don't expect anyone to start any serious interrogations for at least two days. Right now, everyone is just trying to recover. I am pleased and proud of the job our boys did today.”

Amelia nodded in agreement. “Yes, they did an excellent job and are to be commended. The same can be said for you, as well, Miles. You trained these men to work as a group.”

Miles smiled thinly and nodded. “With your permission, Minister, I'll be off now. I want to visit the hospital.”

Miles paused at the door and turned back to Harry. “Now we'll be able to consider your idea, Harry.”

Harry's eyes lit up and he gave Miles a feral smile. “I'll look forward to that one, Miles.”

Miles nodded and left the room. Both Amelia and Remus turned to Harry with inquisitive looks.

“Harry? What idea?” asked Remus.

Harry looked Remus as if distracted. “Hmmm? Oh, Miles suggested a while back that we start hitting back at Voldemort. I suggested we stage a breakout of Azkaban.”

“Azkaban!” Remus exclaimed. Amelia grabbed the railing in front of her and paled.

“Think about it, Remus. If we could stage a breakout at Azkaban it would be a huge blow to Voldemort and his ego. But it wouldn't just affect old Dark and Lipless. By breaking into his most secure prison, the world would sit up and realize that the Voldemort is nothing more than a two bit thug and not some invincible monster,” Harry said earnestly.

Remus held up his hands. “Wait a second, Harry, slow down. You can't be thinking about just staging a raid on Azkaban.”

Harry smirked at the older man. “No, I'm not that dumb, Remus. Miles and I have talked about this a few times. We need to plan this, scout out the area, figure out who we're up against. I'm not repeating my impetuous rush into the Department of Mysteries.”

Remus nodded and both he and Amelia breathed a sigh of relief.



* * *



Haven, that evening...

While most of the details of the operation were still secret, the news that the Aurors had carried out a very successful attack resulted in the entire town turning into one giant block party. The Ministry offices closed early and most of the people congregated around the town square, where several bands set up and began playing music. Tables were conjured, food brought out and drinks flowed freely.

Fred and George Weasley had shut down their workshop early, sending everyone out to the party. They were patient enough to know that eventually they'd be hearing just how well some of their inventions worked, or didn't, in the field.

For now, they were content. They sat at the extra large table used by the Johansens, while Olga bustled around, making sure everyone had enough to eat.

Harry's arrival at their table surprised the Johansens greatly. He walked up, holding Hermione's hand, and smiling at the many children. He wore a t-shirt that sent both sets of twins into fits of laughter. It read “Hey Voldemort! Stupidity is not a handicap! Park elsewhere!”

“It's Harry Pooter!” squealed little Linda, the three year old.

Olga and Sven both smiled and waved the couple closer.

“Mr. Potter and his pretty Miss, come sit!” shouted Sven over the noise of the crowd.

Harry shook his head and looked regretful for a moment. “I'd like to, Sven, but we can't tonight. I just wanted to stop by and tell Fred, George, Inga and Helga that their hard work paid off and probably saved lives today. Well done, you four!”

When Sven nodded, looking a little disappointed, Harry smiled. “We'll try to get out to see you this weekend, Sven. I wanted to talk to you about the farm anyway,” he said, offering an apologetic smile.

Sven nodded his understanding, then turned away as one of the children pulled at his shirtsleeve.

Olga stepped up to Hermione and offered her a large plate of Strudel, then she slipped something into the pocket of the young woman's dress.

As they walked away, Harry nibbled on the Strudel, while Hermione read the note Olga had slipped her. As she did, she blushed deeply.

“So? Are you going to share with me the secret that Mrs. Johansen gave you?” asked Harry, playfully.

“It's... well...,” Hermione sighed heavily. “Well if you must know, she gave me her recipe for Strudel and says every bride should know how to feed her man.”

Harry blinked in surprise, then stopped. “You know, I don't think I've ever eaten anything you've cooked before.”

Hermione laughed weakly and looked at her feet, then she blurted out. “If I can make polyjuice potion, I should be able to cook meals... Don't you think?” she asked weakly.

Harry wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Oh, absolutely. So long as you avoid the cat hair.” When she slapped his arm playfully, he tightened his hold on her. “Besides, if you can't cook, I can.”



* * *



Author's Notes:

If you've read our other stories you know that our battle scenes, and especially our final battle scenes, take more than a paragraph or two and that we tend to wallow in blood and gore. We're not generally violent, but we like to put our readers into the battle, so we take care with our details.

We have a lot of things to cover and a lot of places to go in this story. We're mostly finished with the set up sequences, and should be pushing the story forward now as far as the plans to take back mainland Britain. There will still be fluffy moments, but the pace should start to pick up.

All cliffhanger related threats will be forwarded to Bob, as they are his fault! :D

Just for clarification. Dumbledore was not actually IN Haven. During the battle, he was outside the wards, hiding in the trees and trying to figure out what was going on. However, I can tell you, since you should realize it by now, that the wards won't affect old Albus, as he hasn't killed anyone other than a Dark Lord. No matter what Harry and the others think, the old man hasn't actually “gone evil” enough for the wards to hurt him...yet!

As requested, no harm has come to Tonks :D

A reviewer wrote: “next they'll be too powerful and regardless of who wins they'll turn a good portion of the earth uninhabitable and the rest submerged!!” HEY BOB! Did you see this? What a great idea! ~Cackles madly~

We're sorry! Did we forget to introduce Amy? How rude of us. Readers, meet Amy, a young witch working for Q Branch. She helps the twins in testing their products and such. ~Shines a light down the hole Amy is currently residing in~ Wave to the nice folks, Amy. We'll see to it that you're out of there soon.

Yes, Bob realizes that he misspelled “Chapter” in the last update. He would have fixed it, but it would have changed the URL for the file, and we didn't want to do that. That was our excuse. However, now that we've read the reviews, we've come up with a new one. It was actually a form of Elvish, and everyone should really brush up on the language, as we're sure it will probably happen again (Thanks to Kevin, who came up with the Elvish idea!).

Someone's dared us to work our AK Enema into the story. As dares can be so hard to resist, we will point out that, for those of you who may run across a scene employing such a spell and get grossed out by it, you may pummel John for it. You can read is his review yourself, folks, so don't blame us! ~Snickers~

As for the mention of rape and other such horrible things, I want to put a reminder in right now. This story, for all its twists, turns and light hearted moments, is a dark tale. War is ugly, brutal and frightening. If that sort of thing disturbs you, either skip those scenes or please stop reading. We won't be offended if you do. While we try not to upset our readers too much, some things are necessary.

Harry's leg: Not going to be fixed, end of story. He has no animagus abilities, and won't in this story. Every powerful man (or woman) has at least one weakness. This is Harry's. If it bothers you that much, you know where the exit is.

Ah yes, Charlie. The Weasley family will deal with him soon enough. Right now, everyone is a little busy with other duties, and only one realizes that there's something a bit off about the lad.

Sirya: We don't mind people borrowing our ideas, and since you credited us in the disclaimer, we have no problems with it and are, in fact, flattered. Of course, naming your first born child after us is always a good way of thanking us. :p

Molly is dead, folks. She was in the Burrow when it burned down, and her ashes were scattered in the wreckage.

Several people seem to think that Snape would kill himself rather than brew those sickening potions for Voldemort. While many understand that Snape, in our story (as well as canon and many fanfics), is an ass, what you need to understand is, beneath everything else, Snape is a coward. What does he want? To survive the war. He never bought into the “savior of the wizarding world” stuff about Harry, as his own hatred of James was too powerful. Now, as a prisoner of Voldemort, he'll do whatever it takes to survive.

James: Bob and I thank you for Charlie's list about Dumbledore. It's very amusing, folks. Go read his review (page one of the reviews for Chapter 7).

To the reviewer offering us cupcakes: You are evil, and must be destroyed. Now discover a way of sending them through the modem, or we will try out the AK Enema on you. Don't make us do it!

As for the Updateless list, yes, Bob knows he's actually recommending them. They're good stories, other than the fact that they've become orphans. But he's also warning folks that they're not completed, and stand a good chance of never being so.

Is Voldemort going to drain Dumbledore in the ritual? While we won't give you a specific answer, we will tell you that Harry would never forgive us if we denied him his chance at the old man.

That's it folks. The Updateless list is next. On a personal note, I just wanted to apologize for the lateness of this chapter (and possibly the next). Those members of our Yahoo group know that I was bitten by a Hobo spider and it wasn't a dry bite. As a result, I have a very painful open wound on my leg. The doctor's put me on antibiotics, but it's going to take time to heal. As such, my writing and editing takes longer.

We hope you enjoyed the chapter!

~Bob and Alyx~

Updateless List!!

Last Chapter we featured Harry Potter and the Mind Mage. Several people told us that the author had continued the story elsewhere. Thats wonderful, but we'll ding the author for not removing it from Fanfiction.net. If you're going to abandon a story, or leave it unfinished somewhere. Then delete it from that system!

Additionally several have complained that we haven't put Jeconais into the list because of his very popular 'This Means War' which hasn't seen an update in a long long time. One person even had the gall to claim we didn't put him on the list because he hosts our stories. Not true.

Let's clarify the rules for the Updateless list.

AN AUTHOR WILL MAKE THE LIST IF HE/SHE HAS (A) AN INCOMPLETE STORY AND (B) HAS PUBLISHED NOTHING FOR THE LAST SIXTY DAYS.

As a courtesy we check profiles of the authors to make sure they haven't done something silly, like getting themselves sent on an all expense paid vacation to that mideast hotspot, Iraq. Those people are exempt for obvious reasons.

Also, we're pleased to note that 'The Father' has been updated and is no longer on the Updateless list. But we're keeping an eye on the author and watching him. (Evil Glare) We're also pleased to note that others have trembled before the power of the Updateless list and resorted to updating their stories. Kudos to Olafr for an update, you just missed it last time and would have been my victim this chapter.

This chapter's contribution.

“When Nightmares are a good thing.”

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/1763965/1/

This is a wonderful story, delightfully angsty and hasn't seen a decent update in a while.





Sunrise Over Britain

Chapter 9 - The Pain of Birth


Standard Disclaimer:

Bob walked out onto the stage then stopped and turned to look at someone offstage.

“What!” He said in exasperation.

“This is not fair, I'm tired of you always writing the disclaimer,” Alyx said with a whine.

Bob placed his hands on his hips. “And what's wrong with the way I write disclaimers?”

“Oh nothing, they are just peachy,” came the flippant reply.

Bob ground his teeth and stared at his pouting wife.

“Well?”

“Nothing!”

Alyx walked onto the stage and glared at Bob.

“Fine! Do you want to write this chapter's disclaimer?” Bob asked in resignation.

Alyx perked up immediately. “Can I?”

Bob nodded and walked away muttering to himself. “I'm going to regret this.”

Alyx stepped back and the stage filled with fluffy decorations. In the distance, across a gently wave lapped lake one could see Hogwarts, its lights shining like a welcoming beacon in the darkness.

Severus Snape stepped onto the stage and moved to the center, admiring the scenery. “I must say, this is far better than anything I've seen before,” he said with a slight bow to Alyx.

“Suck up,” Bob muttered darkly.

Severus looked out over the vast audience and music started to play. In the background behind Snape a herd of Hippogriffs wearing tutus started to dance in a chorus line.

“My delightful hostess,” Snape said silkily, “has invited me here tonight to tell you that neither Bob, nor Alyx, one of my most dearest fans, makes no claim to any rights regarding Harry Potter and the Potter Universe. On a more personal note, I would like to extend my thanks to Alyx for writing this disclaimer as I have been told that had Bob written it, I most likely would have been wearing nothing but a cock ring which is drool rip off from the movie Pump up the Volume.”

Suddenly there was an animal scream and dozens of hippogriffs came crashing down on Snape killing him.

Off to one side Bob could be seen putting away an empty bag of marbles and muttering to himself. “I still think the cock ring idea would have worked.”

“I hate you. You do know that don't you?” Alyx hissed angrily.

“Yes dear.”

“You know? The cock ring idea could work,” Alyx mused thoughtfully.

Bob glared at Alyx. “You just want to see Alan Rickman naked don't you.”

“Of course,” Alyx replied while buffing her nails.

“I hate you!” Bob hissed angrily.

“Yes dear.”



* * *



Sunrise over Britain

Chapter 9





* * *



Padfoot Manor (June 30th)...

Harry looked at the object on his desk and smiled wanly at his guests. Remus, Hermione, Miles and Amelia sat in their own seats in front of his desk and all, except Hermione, tried to put up a solid show of support. It hadn't helped any that Dobby had delivered the offending meal, all the while complaining about witches not belonging in his kitchen. Hermione colored, hearing the comment, then her eyes widened slightly seeing the blackened lump of strudel Dobby had delivered to Harry's desk.

Harry looked at the strudel and broke off a piece with his fork.

Remus watched the young witch carefully. When her attention was fixed elsewhere, he banished his strudel along with Amelia's and Miles'. He then smiled and watched as Harry bit into the inedible mass.

“The economy in Haven are really starting to take off, Harry. I know that normally Bill Weasley gives this report, but since he's busy this morning, and as I have some other good news, he asked me to pass along,” Remus said in a neutral tone. The aging marauder had been trying, successfully, not to laugh at Harry's plight with the... mis-concocted confection.

Harry looked at Remus gratefully and put his fork down on the plate, then tossed his napkin on top of it. He pretended not to notice Hermione's eyes narrowing.

“Oh? What have you got for me today, Remus?”

“We now have a total of thirty retail businesses open in the town. Bill's successfully brought in a cauldron making company, as well. In other news, I'm pleased to tell you that Granger Publications picked up their first large, school sponsored order. The American Department of Magic has ordered the study guide for all first year students entering their school system. This is a major order and will put Granger Publications firmly on the map. After this, other countries will seriously consider the study guide for their own educational system,” Remus explained.

“That is good news. I'm glad to see the town starting to work for itself.”

“There was never any doubt of it, in my mind,” Amelia told Harry gently.

He turned to look at her in surprise.

“Most of your experience with our world has been negative, Harry. Voldemort, Dumbledore, Snape, attacks and monsters. The average wizard family wants only to have their children grow up happy and healthy. Your parents would have wanted the same thing for you, had they lived. The average wizard or witch may seem strange, but in the end, they're just people. They go to work, they spend time with their families, they laugh and love. You gave them the basics, now they're doing the rest.”

Harry seemed to ponder that for a while before nodding. “I guess I do come off as sounding a bit cynical,” he mused.

“Now that we have the town business finished, I might as well talk about what is happening on the diplomatic front,” Amelia said, adjusting her monocle.

“Miles has the information from the captured Death Eaters, so I won't go into that. The American and Canadian Governments, as well as the Irish, are extremely pleased with our first joint operation. The Americans are talking about making a larger force available to us when we make our push back into Britain. Miles has noted a deficiency in the Aurors we've been getting from elsewhere and is in early planning stages with the Irish to remedy that. Again, I'll leave him to tell you about it.

“Despite the opening of Haven, we're still routing all our owl mail through the Irish for the time being. Apparation coordinates for Haven have been published several times in local magazines and newspapers and we expect to be included in the next Apparation Directory.

“Finally, we've concluded negotiations with the Irish Government concerning the British Ministry here in Haven. When we finally pull out of Haven, our main office building will be set up as commercial space. But the Operations Center has attracted the attention of the Irish Aurory. They would like to take over the facility as either a training center, or as their own operations center.”

“We won't need it once we've taken back Britain, so I've no real objections about it,” mused Harry.

“Good,” Amelia said with a note of relief in her voice. “Technically, the Operations Center is on your land, not part of the land designated for Haven.”

Harry blinked at her, then turned to Remus, who grinned and shrugged.

“It's not like you were really using it for anything, Harry,” he said.

“No, I guess not. Miles? What information do you have to share today?” Harry asked.

“We've confirmed that Antonin Dolohov was one of the Death Eaters who was killed in the fire at the farm house. One of the bodies bore the Dolohov signet ring, and a forensic wizard has reconstructed enough of the facial features for a positive identification.”

Hermione trembled slightly in her chair next to Harry and he casually reached over and touched her shoulder. Dolohov had been the Death Eater who'd wounded her so badly in the Department of Mysteries, more than a year earlier. To Hermione, Dolohov embodied all that was bad about Death Eaters. She wouldn't admit it openly, but the man clearly frightened her. To hear about his death was a release for her.

“From our interrogations, we've determined that some thirty marked Death Eaters were not at the farm during the time of the attack. These thirty remain at large. Apparently, the a group of ten was sent to the coast on some special mission, which no one knows anything about. The remaining twenty had been sent out and scattered, with instructions to scare the locals in their areas and to scavenge what they needed, by robbery if need be, before the attack.

“Our Irish friends are much relieved by all this. Thirty Death Eaters is a lot less than the one hundred and fifty they had. And without Dolohov, they are pretty much cut adrift. Dolohov was the key inside man, a member of the inner circle. Without him, they will have no one giving directions and Voldemort can't send them any help, except advice by owl.”

Harry nodded thoughtfully and sipped at his tea. “No, I suppose Voldemort can't really send him any help he'd be willing trust. Now, what is this about a deficiency among the Americans and Canadians?”

Miles expression grew disgusted. “We didn't discover it until a day ago, but none of these lads are capable of casting a Patronus.”

“Why should that surprise you, Miles?” asked Hermione. “After all, Dementors and Lethifolds are indigenous to the UK, Europe and parts of Asia. There has never been a Dementor or Lethifold sighting in the Americas.”

“Oh, I know that Miss, but it also means we have to train them to cast the Patronus. I've made arrangements to start that training near the middle of July. It's just the bother of it all,” Miles replied, shaking his head. The Irish Auror academy possessed a Dementor, kept under strict wards, of course, which they used to train their people. Now Miles would have to see that the Americans and Canadians cycled through that same facility.

Hermione shrugged. “It's unfortunate, but not really unexpected, Miles. How many of our boys know the Boone Shot hex? Few, I suspect. The Americans and Canadians are more closely tied to the muggle world than we are, so they've developed a stunner that can be used in muggle public places. It it obliviates all who see it as it's traveling to the target. It's a powerful spell, designed for use in urban muggle environments.”

Miles looked at Hermione speculatively and made a note in a small book. He wasn't above stealing an idea from someone, if it was worth it, and this sounded worth it.

“Miles, are you planning any sort of memorial service for the men we lost?” asked Harry in a quiet voice.

Miles looked startled for a moment. “I'm not sure, Harry. What did you have in mind?”

“We lost five people, not all of them British. I think we need to honor their memory and let the families know they are not alone in this. I don't have any concrete ideas, but I bet if you talked to Olga Johansen, she probably would. She strikes me as a sound person.”

“Harry,” Remus interrupted, “I think it's a good idea, but I'm not sure it should fall on Miles' shoulders to organize. How about if I talk to Mrs. Johansen, then fill you and Miles in on the details?”

Miles nodded in appreciation and Harry smiled at the marauder. “If that's what you want to do, Remus. Try to talk to her today, if possible. We have families grieving and I don't want them to think they are alone.”

Harry looked around at the people sitting with him. “Is there anything else we need to cover this morning?”

“You're supposed to start enchanting rune stones this afternoon at three. Don't forget that, or Eocho will have your hide pinned to the wall,” Hermione told him, smiling.

He winced, but nodded. Enchanting the rune stones was going to be a tedious process... and a tiring one. He was only going to enchant one set, then duplicate them, but there were more than a hundred unique rune stones to create and enchant. And he could only do so many in a single day.

As the others filed out, Hermione lifted the napkin on his strudel and gave him a curious look. Harry looked down at the table for a moment, his hands fumbling with a quill, then he looked up at her again.

“It wasn't a very good first attempt, was it?” she asked in a sad tone.

“Not really,” He replied carefully.

Hermione stood abruptly and started to pace. “I don't understand this. I can brew Polyjuice potion and boil remover in my sleep. I can make burn cremes and invisible adhesives. Why can't I cook something as simple as a strudel?”

Hermione paced back and forth, her expression frustrated. Harry watched her for a moment, smiling all the while. Then Hermione spun to face him.

“Are you laughing at me, Harry Potter?” she asked in an angry tone.

Harry shook his head and motioned for her to sit down. “You can make all those things, most of them flawlessly on the first attempt. You didn't do as well with your cooking because your instructions weren't as detailed or as precise as those received before brewing potions. Most recipes call for you to make judgment decisions. For example, I bet Mama's recipe called for it to be in the oven for what? Thirty to forty minutes?”

Hermione frowned. “Yes, that's exactly what she said to leave it in for.”

“That figures. Cooking is like that, Hermione. You probably left the strudel in the oven for the maximum time instead of checking it every so often. I know you want to be able to cook for both of us, and ultimately for our children. But this isn't like making potions. If you want, this evening we'll go down to the kitchen and we'll do Mama's recipe again.”

Hermione nodded, then her eyes narrowed. “How is it you can cook, but you can't brew a potion to save your life?”

Harry's eyes grew distant. “I suppose if Snape beat me for my mistakes, I might have been motivated, love. It worked for the Dursleys.”

Hermione winced and placed a hand over his. “I'm sorry,” she whispered.

“Don't be,” he replied with a lopsided grin. “I can always cook, if need be.”

Hermione smiled and leaned down to kiss him. She knew her question had invoked some bad memories for him, and, as usual, he found a way to laugh them off.



* * *



Evening, Johansen Farm House (June 30th)...

Remus and Tonks walked hand in hand up the lane to the Johansens' house. The days were getting longer and the evening was warm. Stepping up to the front door, Remus knocked loudly so he could be heard over the din of the music and singing coming from inside the house.

There was a moment of silence, then what sounded like a small herd of rampaging hippogriffs rushing towards the door. The front door was flung open and six faces stared up at Remus and Tonks. One of the older children ran to get one of the adults, while Remus and Tonks found themselves surrounded and propelled through the door and into the family room.

Olga looked up from a beat up piano she was sitting at and beamed at the pair. “Helga, take my place, while I talk with Mr. Lupin and his pretty lady friend.”

“Yes, Mama,” replied the young woman, who then sat at the piano and began to play again.

Olga Johansen lead the pair into the kitchen, where she poured them each a cup of tea.

“So, what can I do for you Mr. Lupin?” Olga asked with a smile.

Remus stared into his cup for a moment before looking up at the older woman. “Mrs. Johansen, an issue came up today in one of our meetings and Harry felt you might be able to provide us some help. He was asking Mr. Pickerton about a memorial service for those Aurors we lost in the attack.

“Harry wants the families of the fallen to know they are not alone and need not grieve alone. He seems to think that you've helped others, here in Haven, who've lost family,” Remus said in a soft voice.

Olga sat at the table and sipped at her tea. “How we deal with death is almost as important as how we deal with life, Mr. Lupin.”

“Remus, please.”

“Then you must call me Olga, yes? Now, I have helped a few, Remus, but that's only because I was able to provide what they needed most... someone to talk to. To say goodbye to five brave Aurors, all lost at the same time, is a difficult thing.”

The older woman paused, then she slowly smiled. “But I may have an idea. You come with me, hmm?”

Olga stood and grabbed a shawl that was hanging on a hook on the wall. Placing the shawl around her shoulders, she led them out the back door of the house.

Remus and Tonks followed Olga as she walked briskly down the country lane in the direction of the school. Dusk was approaching quickly now and the shadowed lane was darkening. The sky had turned to a dusty orange red before Olga turned off the lane and led them towards the lake that skirted the edge of the school.

Olga looked out at the lake for a moment, then turned back towards Remus and Tonks, beaming at them. The two shared a confused glance, then looked out over the lake again.

It wasn't a large lake, like the one near Hogwarts, but it was big enough. There was even some talk about seeing if a giant squid could be convinced to move into it.

Remus squinted as the setting sun caused the surface of the lake to sparkle. Then he saw it, a single lonely light floating out in the center of the lake and his eyes widened for a moment in surprise.

“Barely a week ago, I helped one of our people say goodbye to her husband. She had a unique way of going about it,” Olga said in a reverent tone as her eyes became unfocused with the memory. “She was hurting so much, poor child.”

“Are you sure you're ready, my dear?”

Melinda smiled a bit shakily at Olga Johansen, but nodded. “Yes. I think it's time,” she said quietly.

Olga looked at the lake before them and sighed. “It's a beautiful spot, yes? I will give you some privacy. If you've need of me, just call, hmm? I'll be close by.”

“I don't know how to thank you,” Melinda began.

“Hush. There is no need.” Olga wrapped her arms around the younger woman for a moment, then stepped back. “Take your time, girl.” She smiled, then turned and walked up the slight incline of grass and disappeared through the trees.

Melinda watched her go, then turned back to the lake and took a deep breath. Bending down, she picked up a small wreath of ivy and oak and placed a white candle in its center. Standing once more, she walked down to the water's edge and knelt, holding the wreath close.

She gazed out over the lake, her eyes unfocused, and thought of Michael, her husband.

They'd not been married long and, like most newly married couples, had made plans for the future. They'd both had good jobs, though Melinda hadn't been happy that Michael worked at the Ministry. They'd talked of having children in a few years, once things in Britain were more settled, and of buying a house in the country were she could brew her potions and grow her own ingredients.

Their plans had been shattered when Voldemort's forces had overrun the country. Michael had wanted to leave before the violence erupted, but she'd found that the orphans at Mother Wilma's had been abandoned by the staff. And then it was too late. The Dark Lord's armies had moved in, and they'd played a dangerous cat and mouse game, trying to keep the children out of sight.

When their food, water and medicinal potions had run out, Michael had been forced to expose his presence more and more often as he scavenged for their needs.

Melinda closed her eyes, blocking out the peaceful lake before her, and was transported once again to the filthy alley and the image of her husband's battered body.

The sob caught her by surprise, though it shouldn't have. She'd held onto her grief for so long, it was difficult to tear down the walls she'd build around it and let it out. Dropping the wreath, she fisted her hands at her sides, threw back her head and let go.

When the sorrowful keen drifted through the trees and reached Olga, the woman closed her eyes and said a silent prayer for the grieving young woman and for the man she'd lost. The sound was heartrending, and Olga let herself weep for the pain so evident in that lament.

Melinda opened her eyes, unaware and uncaring of how much time had passed. Her throat burned, and her hands were bleeding where her nails had dug into the flesh of her palms. She inhaled a hitching breath and let it out slowly.

She looked down at the wreath she'd dropped and bit her lip. It was time.

Picking up the wreath, she closed her eyes and thought of Michael once more.

“You always said life was for the living, and I have to believe you meant it. So it's time to let go of the grief and the sadness and accept that you're not coming back to me.”

She drew her wand and lit the ever-burn candle. Casting a shielding charm over the candle and a buoyancy charm on the wreath, she slipped it into the water. Standing, she used her wand to guide the wreath out into the middle of the lake and anchored it there.

She put her wand away and watched the bobbing light from the candle as sunlight began to fade. When she was sure the anchoring spell was fixed, she bowed her head once more.

“I love you, Michael. Goodbye.”

Turning way from the lake, she made her way to the trees and walked into Olga Johansen's waiting arms.

“Oh, my dear girl,” Olga whispered as she watched the candle's light flicker through the trees.

A tear ran down Olga's cheek as she recalled that day, then she pointed to the bobbing light.

“She released a candle into the lake and said it would never go out. She was letting go of her husband and her past so that she could start over, here. We could do something like that for the families, yes?”

Tonks stared at the floating candle and sniffed a few times. Remus reached out and took her hand in his, needing her close. The simplicity of that single candle spoke volumes of a life lost.

“Yes, Olga, I think we can do this for everyone. It's a fitting memorial,” Remus said softly, his eyes still focused on the floating light.

“I can help plan and organize this with you, Remus,” Olga offered, “But I can't do the magic.”

Tonks shook her head and smiled at the older woman. “You might not be able to do magic, Olga, but you have a unique magic all your own.”

Olga smiled at Tonks, then nodded back in the direction of the road.

Together, the three slowly made their way back to the farm house in the distance.



* * *



Parliament Building, London (July 2nd)...

Lucius sat and stared morosely at the two slips of parchment in front of him. The first one he had received nearly a week ago and hadn't acted upon, the second had came in at the end of last month.

My Lord,

I am Pax Etperia, from Devon. Dolohov placed me in charge of receiving the Dementors sent to us by our Lord. I fear that Dolohov and the others have fallen. I have sent several owls to him, all of which came back undelivered. I finally sent one of my men to see what was wrong and he reported that the farm house has been destroyed by a fire and the area is crawling with Ministry people, from both the British and Irish Ministries.

My men and I stand ready to help move the Dementors. Can we assume that you'll provide us with orders, since Dolohov cannot?

Etperia

Lucius stood and walked to the window angrily. “Damnation!” he spat. Now he'd have to report that Dolohov and his men had probably been killed or captured. His next visit to the Master would require him passing along this information.

“Hammersmith!” Lucius yelled.

There was a moment of silence, then the door to his office opened and Hammersmith scurried into the office. Lucius turned and walked back over to his desk. He picked up the parchment from Etperia and handed it to him.

“Owl this servant immediately. Inform him that we expect him to continue his mission to the best of his ability.”

Hammersmith nodded and took the offered parchment. He turned and started for the door.

“Oh, Hammersmith, how fairs young Dudley?” he asked silkily.

Lucius noted with surprise the tenseness that the question invoked in his assistant.

The man turned away from the door and sighed heavily. “Not well, sir. A few days ago Dudley protested when one his trainers tried to discipline him. Dudley killed the man and I was forced to use magic to punish him. While I tried to keep the damage to a minimum, he was still injured. I would not have bothered, but Dudley killed a wizard, not a muggle.”

Lucius sat in his chair and stared at his assistant for a moment. “I see. And how much of a delay will this set back put into our plans, Hammersmith?” he asked in a frosty tone.

“At least six weeks,sir. Dudley will need time to heal and recover from his injuries.”

Dudley was never a sure-fire plan, Lucius mused. Still, it wouldn't hurt to continue as planned. And Hammersmith? Well he did over step his limits.

“Very well. Allow the boy to heal and continue his training as best as he can,” Lucius said in a deceptively mild voice as he raised his wand. Pointing it at the puzzled Hammersmith, he whispered “Crucio !”

The man screamed and dropped to the floor, writhing. Lucius watched him for a few moments, then lifted the curse.

“Do not fail me again, Hammersmith,” Lucius said in a frightful tone.



* * *



Padfoot Manor (July 5th)...

Harry opened the door to the study and started to enter when a red streak passed him, clipping his cane. Harry flailed for a moment and then crashed to the floor.

“Oh, Harry! I'm so sorry!” Ginny said as she skidded to a halt.

“I always thought you were kinda pushy, Ginny. Maybe to make up for your shortness,,” Harry replied, looking up at her with a grin.

Her eyes twinkled with laughter. “Yes, well, I may be short, but good things come in small packages,” she replied primly.

Harry chuckled and levered himself upright. Ginny leaned down and helped him get back to his feet.

“Where are you going in such a hurry?” Harry asked.

“I have a session with Eocho and Remus in a few minutes. It's so frustrating, Harry! Eocho says the Brotherhood awoke a talent in me, but he won't tell me what that talent is!”

Harry nodded in understand. Eocho had spoken to him about this and had warned him that no one should tell Ginny what her talent was.

“I think the ritual awoke talents in a lot of us, Ginny, so you're not the only one going through this. I'm sure Eocho will help you develop it further.”

Ginny stomped her foot in mock petulance, then grinned. “Maybe, but that doesn't mean I have to like it!”

With a wave, she turned and sprinted down the hall, leaving Harry shaking his head in wonder. Sometimes that girl made him tired just watching her. She had enough energy for three people.

Ginny turned the corner and opened the door to a room they had converted into a classroom. She skidded to a halt, seeing Eocho and Remus already in the room and deep in conversation.

Closing the door behind her, she tried to shake her nervousness. “Sorry I'm late. I bumped into Harry and had to help him get to his feet again,” she said in a soft tone.

Eocho nodded to her, while Remus just shook his head and chuckled. Ginny would have been the queen of clumsy in the manor, had it not been for Tonks.

“Please, take a seat,” Eocho said.

Instead of a single desk in front of the student desks, this time there was a long table covered by a cloth. Ginny looked at the table uneasily and took a seat at a desk in the back row.

Eocho watched the girl for a moment, then glided forward to hover closer to her.

“You know why we're here today, child?” asked Eocho in a gentle voice.

“Yes, Honored Teacher, to help me develop my talent,” Ginny replied, then she bit her lip, holding back parts of the reply that would not go over well with Eocho.

Eocho smiled and moved back a few feet from her. “Why do you sit so far from the front of the room?”

Ginny's eyes narrowed. “I'm not sure. Something about the table makes me uneasy. And I know that Remus can't always be trusted, either.”

Remus chuckled and waggled his eyebrows at Ginny, who couldn't help but laugh.

“My daughter, the uneasiness you feel is your talent at work. But I have watched you these past weeks. Sometimes you pay attention to your feelings. Often you do not. As a result, you are frequently the victim of pranks played by others upon you,” Eocho said in a firm tone.

Ginny thought of the time Harry turned her hair blue for the whole day and had arranged it so it appeared as if Draco had done it. Her revenge against Draco was legendary and aimed at the wrong person. She and Draco had spent several hours talking about it, with Luna and Hermione mediating, after Draco's missing limbs had been found and reattached.

“Why you can't tell me what my talent is and how to use it, Honored Teacher?” Ginny asked plaintively.

“Some talents, like Mr. Lupin's, are consciously controlled. His animagus form and his changing are a result of a decision that results in his invoking his magic. Yours, my daughter, is more subtle. Your talent is always working for you. You cannot turn it on and off. I could tell you what your power is, but, in doing so, I risk you losing that ability. It is something tied closely to who and what you are Ginevra.

“What I can do is help you train yourself to recognize your talent at work.”

Ginny sat for a moment, thinking hard, then she nodded her understanding.

“Now, let us start again. Why do you sit so far back from the front of the class room?” asked Eocho.

“Something about the table in the front of the room made me uneasy. It's like a twisting sensation in my gut. I didn't like it,” Ginny said softly, all the while staring at the table.

Remus stepped forward to stand in front of the table. “Have you felt that feeling before, Ginny?” he asked.

“Yes, several times since we came to Haven. Before that? I don't think so... maybe,” she replied, unsure.

“Consider the possibility that your talent is trying to tell you something, Ginevra,” Eocho said.

Ginny looked startled. “Like a warning?”

Eocho nodded. “Yes, a warning would be one possibility. But not the only one. Self preservation is a powerful instinct, perhaps the most powerful of all. So let us consider for a moment that your talent is tied to your instincts.”

“So you're saying that my talent is providing me with warnings? Like a seer?”

Remus shook his head. “No, nothing like a seer. That's part of what we wanted to show you today.”

He turned then and removed the cloth from the table, revealing a book, a glowing sphere, a skull, a dagger and a teddy bear.

Ginny glanced at the objects and her face paled a little. She swallowed nervously and fixed her gaze on Eocho.

“Of the five objects on the table, three are harmless, the other two are not. What we want to see is what you can tell about these objects,” Remus said.

“Are you comfortable, child? Revealing the objects seemed to affect you. Do you wish to move further away from them?” Eocho asked.

“I'll be fine, Honored Teacher. I was just surprised. Do you want me to touch these?”

“Try it first without touching the objects,” suggested Remus. “I'll levitate them to you, one at a time.”

Remus directed the book off the table and towards Ginny. He stopped it about three feet from her and she focused her gaze upon it.

After a minute or two of silence, she sighed. “I don't know. I don't feel anything special about the book. There's a faint sensation that's hard to describe. It's familiar, somehow, but I don't know if it means I've read the book, know the owner of the book, or I'm just imagining things,” she said in defeat.

“Do not be downcast, my child. It is likely you will spend a lifetime refining your talent. For a first attempt, you did well,” Eocho said encouragingly.

“Alright then, next object,” Remus said, then he returned the book to the table and floated over the glowing glass sphere.

“This is different,” Ginny said after a minutes silence. “I can feel a tingle in my fingertips, like a bludger under restraint. It's powerful, but I don't get any feelings of danger about it.”

“Alright, how about this one?” Remus asked, floating the skull over.

Ginny shook her head. “Nothing. I'm not even sure that it's a real skull.”

Remus and Eocho shared a glance, then he returned the skull to the table and floated the dagger over to her.

Ginny's eyes widened and her nostrils flared. “Fred and George!” she hissed.

Lifting a hand quickly, she was able to raise a shield around herself, without the use of her wand, just as the dagger exploded in a shower of ink.

She blinked and jerked back from the explosion, then lowered her shield and looked around. When her eyes came to Remus, she stared for a moment, then bit her lip, trying not to laugh.

Remus stood frozen as black ink dripped down the front of his robe. His eyes seemed to glow whitely from his ink splattered face.

Giving up, Ginny sagged back against her chair and laughed outright. “Remus, I can't believe you would accept anything from my brothers!”

Remus grinned ruefully, laughing at himself. A quick scourgify cleaned up the mess.

“I'll be paying the twins a visit later today, I see. But let's get back to business,” he said, then he levitated the Teddy Bear over to Ginny.

As the bear came closer, Ginny shrank back from the bear and started to tremble. “Take it away! Take it away!” she screamed. An aura flickered into existence about her and she started to raise her hand. Eocho gestured, freezing her in place

Remus and Eocho barely had a moment to relax when the door literally exploded inwards. Harry stormed into the room, his aura blazing. A moment later, Hermione entered. Neville was on her heels and he went directly to Ginny.

Remus levitated the teddy bear back to the table and Eocho released Ginny, who slumped against Neville, sobbing.

Neville wrapped both arms around his girlfriend and glared at the two men.

“What in the name of Merlin is going on in here?” demanded Harry angrily.

“Rest easy, Maglios. We were teaching Ginevra to use her talent, that is all,” replied Eocho in a soothing tone.

“That's all?” exclaimed Hermione. “Revered Teacher, I expect every member will be here within minutes. I felt her distress call from the library and apparated here.”

“I was in the greenhouse,” Neville said, glaring at both Remus and Eocho.

Harry walked over to Ginny. “Ginny, what's wrong?”

Ginny pointed at the innocent looking teddy bear on the table. “That! It's evil, hideous! The closer it came, the more threatening it became.”

Harry looked over at Remus, who shrugged. “It's one of the objects that we found at the farm house. It detected positive for dark magic, but no one knows what it's purpose is yet.”

Harry walked over to the bear. “Hermione, do you think a Revealus might work here?” he asked.

Hermione joined him at the table. “It might, Harry, especially at the level you cast at,” she murmured in reply.

Harry raised his staff over the bear. “Revealus,” he murmured. A small puff of black smoke rose from the bear and formed into the shape of a face.

“Tell me your secrets,” Harry said in a soft voice.

“I am the child's assassin. I am cute and make adults want to place me in a bed with a sleeping child. I kill by smothering my victim and have killed twenty two times,” came the reply in a sibilant whisper. Hermione paled and stepped back.

“Remus,” Harry called in a soft voice, “is there any reason why I shouldn't destroy this thing?”

Remus paused. He knew the object had been cursed, but not in that manner. “I don't think we have a need for it, Harry,” came the hesitant reply. To be honest, he would have to explain it's destruction to Miles, who might have had a use for it. But considering the circumstances, he thought it would be best to allow Harry to proceed.

Harry raised his staff. “Incendio .”

He stepped back as the bear flashed white hot and vanished, leaving only a small pile of ash. He was surprised when he turned to face Ginny and discovered all of the Brotherhood had arrived.

Eocho glided up to stand at the front of the room, then he turned to address Ginny directly. “My daughter, I did not expect the object to invoke such a primal reaction in you, and for that I must ask for your forgiveness. It was not our intention to frighten or threaten you.”

Ginny nodded and smiled wanly at him from the safety of Neville's arms. “I understand, Honored Teacher,” she murmured, then she shivered again.

Harry reached into his money bag and withdrew a coin. He then walked over to Neville and pressed the coin into his hand. “Nev, I'm short on quills. How about you and Ginny apparate up to Stonewall Lane and pick me up a couple? Use the change to buy yourselves lunch, make a day of it,” Harry suggested with a smile.

Neville looked down at the fifty galleon coin in his hand and then up at Harry. “You don't have to do this...” he said in protest.

“I do, Nev. I really need the quills,” Harry said firmly, then he winked at his friend. Neville smiled and pulled Ginny to her feet. She leaned against him, wanting to stay within the safety of his arms.

“Thanks, Harry. Come on, Gin. Let's get Harry his quills.,” he said leading the girl from the room.

After Ginny and Neville left, Hermione turned to Harry. “You don't need any quills.”

“I know that, Hermione. So does Neville. But Ginny needs a break. A little shopping and lunch away from the manor and Haven will do her some good today. Even if Neville buys me a hundred quills, he'll still have money left over for lunch and a trip to the sweet shop. Neville's been working pretty hard too. They can both use the break,” He replied with a shrug.

Then he turned on Remus and Eocho, scowling. “What is with you two? I understand what you're trying to do, but I don't understand or approve of you exposing Ginny to cursed objects you haven't identified. Next time, make a cursed object, or determine what it does first! Her talent exploded across our bond. I'm surprised it didn't trigger the attack warning wards in Government House!

“You know that her wandless ability isn't fully under her control, yet you exposed her to an object that murders children? This is a female Weasley we're talking about. She has a mother's instinct a mile wide! We're lucky it was only a door that needs to be fixed this time. She could have blown up the manor,” he told them angrily.

He stepped back and closed his eyes, taking a few cleansing breaths and trying to push down his anger. Opening his eyes again, he looked at the two of them, noting their chastened expressions.

“Train her, teach her, encourage her. Don't frighten or endanger her,” Harry said finally in a low tone before he walked from the room.

Remus sagged against the edge of the table. “Merlin! His temper is as bad as Lily's ever was.”

“What did you expect, Remus?” Hermione said fiercely. “He considers Ginny to be his little sister. He spoke to Tonks in the same manner when her actions resulted in you being injured. Harry protects his family, even from each other, when necessary.”

She turned then and walked out of the room in search of Harry. One by one, the other Brotherhood members filed out of the room, but not before scowling at Remus and Eocho.



* * *



The Enchanted Goat Pub, Evening (July 5th)...

Dumbledore looked up from drying a glass when the door opened.

“Rufus! How about a couple pints for me and my mates!” shouted one man.

Dumbledore waved, a cheery smile on his face, and started to pour the requested drinks.

“I expected you blokes earlier. Where have you been?” Dumbledore asked.

One of the men took a deep pull on his pint, then banged the glass back down on the bar. “Aye, we woulda been here sooner, but we went to that memorial service tonight on account of the free food.”

“Not that there was a lot of free food,” grumbled another man.

“That be the truth. Just a lot of talking people and weeping wimmen!” said another in agreement.

“I heard about that service. It was for the Aurors they lost in that attack up north, wasn't it?” asked Dumbledore. He already knew all the details, but he wanted to keep the men talking. Deftly, he refilled their drinks.

“Aye,” said the first man. “Bugger of it is, only two were ours. The other three weren't even British! And here we be having to sit listening to how brave a couple Yanks and a Canadian were. Bloody foreigners!”

“Hear hear!” shouted several men.

“Seems like a bloody balls up job, if they are losing men over a couple Death Eaters. Wouldn't have happened if ol' Dumbledore were leading the show,” offered Dumbledore.

“Damn straight, that is! My Grandad said ol' Dumbledore was a right powerful light wizard. Killed Grindelwald with a snap of his fingers, he did!” said one man.

The others nodded, impressed by the very idea.

Dumbledore smiled to himself and refilled the men's drinks before moving off to serve other customers. As much as he wanted to push things along, he had to go slowly. A little doubt here, a little doubt there. It all added up.



* * *



The Johansen Farmhouse, After the Memorial...

Harry sat at the kitchen table with Hermione, Remus, Tonks and Papa Johansen, while Olga served tea and some of her famous strudel.

Hermione took one look at the pastry on the plate and sighed to herself. Despite Harry's help, she had not yet managed to produce an edible version of the pastry in front of her.

“Mrs. Johansen,” Harry started.

“Please Mr. Potter, call me Mama. I answer to that just as well as any other name these days!” Olga said with a laugh.

“I will, if you'll call me Harry,” he offered in return.

Olga smiled. “Good! Now what were you saying?”

“Mama, I want to thank you for your efforts. Tonight's memorial service was moving to everyone present, and it accomplished what I most wanted - to let the families know they're not alone,” Harry said in a serious tone.

She waved a hand at him. “There is no need for this, Harry. I just try to help where I can, yes? When your Mr. Lupin came to me, I made a few suggestions, that's all.”

“A few suggestions?” exclaimed Remus. “Mama, you took over the planning. I still don't know how you made sure there were enough seats for everyone.”

Remus trailed off when Sven Johansen started to laugh. “Mama is a good organizer, no? Seats were a problem, but she walked up to the school and spoke to the Headmistress. She got several of the summer stay over students and a number of the teachers to help by conjuring seats and flowers. Headmistress McGonagall was happy to help.”

Harry nodded. “That's part of what I'm talking about, but only a part of it. Since your arrival here, you have reached out and touched the lives and hearts of many here in Haven. You are raising the orphans who escaped from Mother Wilma's home, you've organized dances and social gatherings and, whether you want to believe it or not, you're creating change here in Haven.”

Olga looked perplexed. “What do you mean, creating change?” she asked.

“Your actions are changing the way people think about muggles.” Harry said, then he reached down and ruffled the hair on little Brendan head as the boy watched Harry intently.

Brendan suffered from a serious case of Harry worship.

“People see you raising Wizarding children and loving every one of them. They see you reaching out to those still reeling from the disaster back home and you bring a sense of normalcy to their lives. Most importantly of all, they see you, a muggle, reaching out to help wizards and witches, as if the difference means nothing to you. You may not realize it, or understand it, but your family is nearly as important to Haven as Minister Bones, or the Haven school.”

“Or even yourself, Harry,” Hermione added in a quiet tone. She sat holding the youngest, little Linda, on her lap. The little girl clutched a stuffed rabbit to her tightly and had one thumb firmly in her mouth.

“But we're all people,” protested Olga.

“You're right, of course. But for the longest time, wizards and muggles didn't mix together. Voldemort sits in power in Britain because he believes he is better than a muggle. You are showing people otherwise.

“That's why I wanted to thank you, Mama, for all you've done for us. For tonight, especially, and every other night you've been there for us. I'd like to return the favor. You can come to us whenever you need something,” Harry said, indicating himself and the others.

Olga waved a hand, flustered and groped around for a way to change the subject, while Sven watched on, obviously amused. Olga glanced at Hermione and Tonks and saw her opening.

“So? Have you two set dates for the weddings?” she asked.

“Yes. August 1st, but it's going to be slightly different than your regular wedding. We're going to use a very old ceremony called handfasting, and there will be more than just the four of us,” Tonks replied happily.

Hermione beamed her own smile and Olga's expression grew predatory.

“More than two couples, hmm? That is interesting. What do you have planned?” Olga asked, as visions of helping in the planning danced behind her eyes.



* * *



Haven Lake, After the Memorial...

The small group of people made their way down to the lake, its surface now dotted with glowing candles - a memorial to the lost.

They stopped at the shoreline and gazed out at those points of light, each lost to their own thoughts. Three of them carried wreathes with ever-burn candles at their center, not yet lit.

“I think this is a mistake,” Charlie Weasley said. “We know Ron and Percy are gone, but we don't know that mum's dead. She could be hiding, or in one of the camps, waiting for us to rescue her.”

“We don't feel her any longer,” George told him quietly. He looked down at the wreath he held, the one representing Molly's loss, and then at his twin.

“We haven't for a few months now,” Fred confirmed sadly.

“I went to the Burrow. It had been burned down, but there was no body, no evidence that she was there when it happened,” Charlie protested.

“She's gone, son.” Arthur reached into his pocket and withdrew a small object. Opening his hand, his children gathered close and, gazing down, each recognized what lay in his palm.

It was his wedding ring, the Weasley crest clearly visible engraved upon the band. But what should have been a bright, gold band was now a black, pockmarked mockery of what it had once stood for.

“The Weasley rings were all that was left of the wealth our family once had, many centuries ago. Upon them where many charms, including this one. Upon the passing of one's spouse, the ring changed to reflect the event. The rings revert back to their natural state when they are passed on, or if the wearer falls in love again.

“This,” he continued, “tells me that she died, and that it involved fire in some way. The fact that I was wearing it when it happened meant I felt her passing. While I do not know what caused the fire, I do know that she was unconscious before it reached her.”

Arthur looked at his children then, meeting their eyes one by one, before stopping at Charlie. “She is gone. We can only hope that she, Ron and Percy have found peace.”

Father and son stared at each other for a moment, then Charlie nodded jerkily.

“I'd hoped...” Charlie began, only to stop suddenly, unable to go on.

“We all did,” Bill said, placing an arm around Charlie's shoulders. “But it's time to let them go.”

In the fading evening light, the candles were lit and the charms placed over the wreaths. Together, the family put them into the water. Then Fred, Arthur and Bill gently maneuvered them out into the lake, where they mingled with the other bobbing lights.

Standing at the water's edge, Arthur listened to his children share their memories of their mother and brothers, laughing quietly at some, weeping softly at others, and knew the family would be better now. Oh, his children would still fight and scuffle with one another, but the tension and mistrust that had grown since Charlie had joined them seemed to ease somewhat.

And now, watching them, he realized that, while they were saying goodbye to three, they were welcoming back another – Charlie.

When he felt a tap on his arm, he shook his head.

“Dad?” Ginny asked.

“Sorry, Gin. What was it you said?”

“I asked if you were ready,” she said gently.

“Oh. Yes, we can go now.”

Turning, he followed his family as they walked away from the lake and up a small hill. In front of them was the path to the village, to the left, a small grove a trees. As he stepped onto the path, he stopped suddenly and looked towards the trees, frowning.

“Dad?” Bill called. “Are you coming?”

“Go on ahead, kids. I'll be along in a bit.”

When his children continued on the path to the village, Arthur turned away and made his way into the grove and, unerringly, to the woman who stood just inside the tree line.

“Melinda,” he said quietly.

“Hello, Arthur.”

“Why are you here? Is something wrong?” he asked, concerned.

“I missed the memorial,” she told him softly, waving a hand towards the lake. “I was on duty and couldn't get away. When my shift ended, I came down. But as I was arriving, your family was coming down the hill. I didn't want to intrude, so...” She shrugged.

As the last of the light bled from the sky, a feeling of peace seemed to surround the grove. Arthur watched the lights dance upon the lake, unable to tell one wreath from the other, and realized that in sharing grief, it became easier to let go.

Turning to Melinda, wanting to share his sudden insight, a single thought stopped him. She already knew. Her candle was down there - the first memorial. With that thought came the realization that no one had asked her to share it with the village. No one had asked if she would mind others doing as she had done. While the lake was not hers alone, the idea was.

“Melinda,” he said softly, casting a quick light spell to better see her face. “Does it bother you?”

“Does what bother me?”

“That,” he said, pointing at the lake, but watching her closely in the wand-light. “You were the first to place a candle in memory. Olga Johansen mentioned it to Remus and Tonks. That's where the idea to hold the memorial here came from. But I don't think anyone asked you about it.”

Melinda smiled. “Of course I don't mind. We all need to let go at some point. If placing a candle on the lake helps, then I'm glad.”

“You're a generous woman.”

She laughed. “If it pleases you to think so, who am I to argue?”

“Ah ha! Didn't share your toys as a child, eh?” Arthur asked, grinning.

“And stole toys from others, besides,” she said. “But this memorial? It's something different. It wasn't mine to begin with. I was simply borrowing it for however long Lord Potter allowed.”

“I think I can safely say it will be here for a very long time, then. Whether he knew them personally or not, Harry mourns each loss deeply. He understand the need for the memorial, and will keep it as such for many years to come.”

Time passed, with each lost to their own thoughts.

When Melinda shifted and cast a warming charm on herself, Arthur realized how chilly it had become. With one last look at the lake, he reached over and took Melinda's hand.

“Let's go back to the village,” he said. “We should be able to catch a late dinner at the Town Hall, and it will certainly be warmer there.”

Melinda wrapped her fingers around his hand and followed him from the grove. “Olga says they're going to stop serving meals there soon. I don't know what I'll do then!”

“I thought Olga was going to teach you to cook?”

“That didn't work out as well as I'd hoped,” she told him laughingly.

“Oh? What happened?”

“My pot roast was so overcooked, it could have been used for shoe leather!”

When he laughed, she let go of his hand and slapped his arm playfully.

“Don't laugh. Besides, it didn't end there. I was trying to boil potatoes for mashing, but when I checked on them, they had disappeared. When I started over, I must have pulled them off too soon, because they were still hard and rather starchy. Who knew potatoes were such a perverse vegetable!”

Arthur wiped tears of mirth from his eyes and shook his head. “What did Olga say?”

“Something about needing to practice. But every time I'm over there and go near one of her pots, she gets twitchy and pushes food at me.”

“Well, I'm not the best of cooks, but I can help you learn,” he told her.

“You may be taking your life into your own hands, but I may take you up on the offer.”

“Now, wait a moment, I didn't say I was going to eat what you cooked!” he exclaimed, ducking another playful slap aimed his way.

“Wretch!”

Laughing, he wrapped an arm around her waist as they entered the village, and made plans to have her over for her first lesson.



* * *



Padfoot Manor (July 15th)...

Eocho watched with stunned amusement while Hermione, Ginny, Susan, Luna, Tonks, the Johansen twins, Emma Granger and Mama Johansen chased all of the men from the manor around noon. Some, like Neville and Terry, went quietly. Others, like Draco and Remus, went off in search of something to do.

Harry, however, stood staring at the door to his home in confusion, while a very irate Winky guarded the entrance, telling him firmly that no men were allowed in the manor today.

Confused, Harry turned and walked in the general direction of the town.

“Are they all gone now, dear?” asked Emma.

“Yes. Harry just left. I think we caught him off guard and it confused him,” replied Hermione.

“Well, we wouldn't want them to fully understand us, would we? Where would be the fun in that?” asked Helga.

Inga, her twin, smirked at her and poked her in the side. “You're easy to understand. If it moves, you either prank it, laugh at it, or want to cuddle with it.”

Helga squeaked at being poked and rounded on her sister, but a hand clamped firmly on her shoulder.

“Not now, girls,” said Mama, “We have wedding to plan for! Hermione, what time is the seamstress supposed to arrive?”

“In half an hour, Mama.”

Several of the girls, most notably Ginny, looked around worriedly.

Hermione caught the look and frowned. “Ginny, I know you. Stop worrying. It's all being taken care of.”

“He isn't really going to pay for everything, is he?” Ginny whispered back furiously.

“No, just a few things, like your gown, the food and Terry's robe. He's pitching in where needed and he told me not to let you refuse. I think he wants his little sister to look good.” Hermione replied quietly.

Ginny nodded, her eyes misty. “You're a lucky witch, Hermione Granger.”

“So are you, Ginevra Weasley.”

Mama stood and clapped her hands. “Girls! Girls! While you're being measured for your robes, Emma and I will be working on the food list. If you have something in mind for food, now will be the time to let us know about it...”



* * *



Meanwhile, Outside the Manor...

Harry wandered into Haven wondering what to do with his time. He had spent his morning with Eocho, and usually spent his afternoons working on enchanting the rune stones. That project was nearly complete, with only a handful still to go, but he couldn't do that when the stones were in the manor and he wasn't. Shrugging to himself, he entered one of the lanes that led to the main street.

“Hey, watch it!” shouted a small voice and a boy ran around the side of the house, following a ball that was zipping along overhead. The boy whipped out a small red wand and fired off a spell at the ball, causing it to change direction.

Harry blinked in surprise and watched, surprised, as several other children, also equipped with red wands, fired off spells, keeping the ball in the air.

“You must be British,” said an adult voice from behind him.

Harry turned to see a dusky skinned man grinning at him. Beside him stood a small girl who clutched at his pants and looked up at Harry shyly.

“I'm sorry?”

“You must be British. Most Brits seem to be surprised when they see our kids playing with their training wands,” said the man.

“Those are real wands?” Harry asked incredulously.

“No, they're training wands. When a child first gets a training wand, they can only do one or two spells on them, mostly game spells, like for playing Pitchy, the game you just saw. As they age, their parents unlock the wands a little at a time as the children learn to perform simple things like cleaning charms and or packing charms. By the time they enter school, they will have been given a real wand and the training wand will be given to another child,” said the man.

“By the way, I'm Sam, a healer with the 806th Animagi Division,” Sam said proudly.

Harry couldn't help but smile and he reached out offering his hand. “Hi, Sam. I'm Harry.”

Harry leaned against his cane and Sam motioned for him to sit on the stoop in front of the house. “I like the idea of training wands. I take it they're limited in what they can do?”

“Oh, yeah. For one thing, they're power restricted. The puffball spell, which they use in Pitchy, wouldn't knock over a toddler, even if an adult used it. But it will keep the ball aloft.”

“I wonder how well they'll go over here?” Harry mused.

Sam laughed. “I don't think you need worry about that, Harry. Our kids have been showing them off since they got here and, from what I understand, a lot of British parents are looking into buying them.”

“Well, I know of at least one family who will need quite a few of them.”

“Let me guess, Mama Johansen?”

Harry blinked, then grinned.

“We hadn't been here half a day when she showed up at our door with a plate of cookies for the kids, a map of the area and a list of people and businesses, who they are and what they do,” Sam replied with a laugh.

“She's something special, but then her whole family is,” Harry replied.

Harry pulled himself to his feet. “It was nice meeting you, Sam, but it's time for me to get going. I was heading into town.”

The two shook hands and parted ways. Harry heading into town, Sam sitting on the stoop wondering about the young man with the limp.



* * *



Government House, Haven...

The fireplace roared and the flames turned green. Michael O'Dalley looked up in surprise. Few people floo'd him or even used the floo in Haven. Most people either walked or apparated.

“Michael, me boy, are you busy?” asked the man sticking his head through the fire.

“Johnny! Why, it's been ages since we last talked. How are you? And the wife and kids?” O'Dalley asked, delighted to hear from an old friend.

“Good and good. Young Robby has been accepted into the Auror Academy up here,” Johnny said proudly.

“No! Why, last time I saw him, he wasn't four feet tall!”

Johnny nodded proudly. “He's over six feet now. Even I have to look up to see him.”

O'Dalley laughed along with his friend, then the conversation turned serious.

“Michael, we've had an unconfirmed report and I'm not quite sure what to make of it. A small family group of wizards just outside of Kilfinane reported seeing a mass of flying black creatures heading in a south-easterly direction. The father immediately gathered up the children and fled to Stonewall Lane and Government house, so I can't tell you who or what they were, but they were heading in the direction of Haven.”

O'Dalley frowned and looked at a map. “Kilfinane, Kilfinane... That's about two hundred miles away. Are you sure they were heading towards us, Johnny?”

Johnny scowled. “No, Michael, I am not sure about anything, except to say a family of wizards were terrified enough to run from their home in the middle of the night. As far as I know, they weren't attacked. Call it a gut feeling, Michael.”

O'Dalley leaned back in his chair, thinking hard. “Alright, Johnny. I trust your instincts, so I'll call in my boys and we'll put on an extra watch. I'll also have someone double check the wards on the town.”

“Good enough, Michael. I'll floo you if there's another sighting or we get new information.”

“Thanks, Johnny,” O'Dalley said absently, as the fireplace quieted, his mind already whirling with what he had to do.

Standing, he quickly left his office and walked to the Economic office. Bill Weasley looked up in surprise to see O'Dalley coming in.

“Michael? What can I help you with?” Bill asked.

“You used to be a curse breaker before, right?” asked O'Dalley.

“Yes, I worked for Gringotts before things started going down hill back home. Then I worked for Harry for a while.”

O'Dalley nodded. “Good. I have a favor I need to ask. I received a troubling report from one of my friends in the Irish Ministry and I need someone I know and trust to look over the wards on the town to make sure they're up to par.”

Bill raised his eyebrows as O'Dalley spoke. The wards on Haven were some of the finest he had ever seen. “I can do that, Michael, but I think you'll find the wards are fine.”

“I agree with you, Bill, but I want to be sure.”

“I'll speak to my father about it this evening. I'm sure I'll be able to start tomorrow morning. You want all the wards checked, right?”

“Please, all of them.”

“Right then, I'll be on it in the morning.”

“Thanks, Bill,” O'Dalley said with a wave and he walked out of the office.

What was that all about , wondered Bill. Oh, well, checking wards is more interesting than making sure we're getting our daily deliveries of bread and milk.



* * *



Padfoot Manor, (July 16th)...

Harry looked up from the report Miles had sent him when Hermione and Ginny entered his study. He looked at the two girls and knew something was up.

“What? I haven't pranked anyone in a while,” Harry said in protest and pretending to cringe back from the look Hermione was giving him.

“You prat, we're not here because of a prank,” Hermione said fondly. “Ginny and I were talking and she has something she needs to ask you.”

Harry turned his attention to Ginny.

“Harry, do you think I could borrow your Pensieve?” Ginny asked in a soft voice.

Harry leaned forward in his chair. “What do you need a Pensieve for, Ginny?”

“It's about Charlie. No matter how hard we try to explain to him, he still refuses to fully listen to us. I won't lie to you, Harry. There is something going on with Charlie. I can feel it, but I can't pinpoint what it is. For all I know, it could just be my anger for my overly stubborn brother.

“Dad seems to think that if he can see the memories, he'll come around,” Ginny said hesitantly.

Harry frowned. He didn't like the idea of another problem Weasley. “Do you think he will be a danger to us, Ginny?”

Ginny flinched slightly. She knew Harry would have to ask this question. “Honestly, Harry, I don't know. Maybe. He's my brother, but I feel he's hiding something from us. He spends most of his time in that new pub, even though he rarely drinks.”

Harry sighed and slid down a little in his chair thinking. “Has he been up to the manor yet?”

“No. I told Dad he wasn't allowed. Dad was a little hurt by that, but accepted it,” Ginny replied with a shake of her head.

Harry ran a hand nervously through his hair, then he opened a cabinet with a wave of his hand. Both girls gasped at the rows of Pensieves sitting in the cabinet.

Harry grinned sheepishly at them. “I had these made around Christmas. There is one for every Outcast. I have four more on order, for Remus, Tonks, Emma and Dan, but they haven't been delivered yet.”

Harry floated two Pensieves from the cabinet, then closed it. He handed one to Ginny, then handed the other to Hermione.

“Using a Pensieve for yourself is very easy, just touch the tip of your wand to your temple and think of the memory you want to remove. Then drop the memory into the dish. If you want to remove a memory from someone else, the incantation is 'Memorae'. These are solicitor Pensieves. That means you can enter the memory by touching it in the bowl, or you can view them in presentation mode, which will display the memory above the bowl. Try a memory, Ginny. Something short and pleasant.”

Ginny reached up and touched her temple with her wand, thought for a moment, then deposited a memory into the bowl. She reached out and touched the memory and her eyes glazed over. A moment later, her eyes returned to normal and she smiled brightly at Harry.

“'Memorae' doesn't permanently remove the memory. It's more like a copy. Memories in a Pensieve are hard to fake, which is why the courts accept them as evidence,” Harry said.

Hermione looked like she was itching to try, so he leaned forward and tapped his temple with his finger. She smiled and touched her wand to his temple. “Memorae,” she said, then pulled the glistening filament from his temple and dropped it into the Pensieve.

“How do I activate it in presentation mode, Harry?” she asked

“Tap the Pensieve with your wand. That's all it takes.”

Hermione tapped the bowl with her wand and suddenly there was a small image floating above the Pensieve. Hermione gasped, seeing herself in a bikini, and Ginny started to snicker.

Harry smiled weakly back at her and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, then he blushed. “Thank you, Hermione. I’m not sure what I’d do without you around. I think you’re really pretty in that bikini,” he whispered.

The image froze there and Hermione tried to glare at Harry, but she couldn't hold it. That moment had been shortly after Harry's illness the summer before, when they had begun to explore their feelings towards each other.

“No wonder you landed him, Hermione. If only I knew it would have taken a bikini...” Ginny said, then she started laughing.

Hermione blushed and Harry looked embarrassed, though he reached out and touched her hand.

Mustering all the dignity he could, he looked at Ginny. “No, the bikini was just a nice touch.”

“And I bet you couldn't wait until you could touch, either!” Ginny said with a chortle, then she slid off the chair howling.

Harry buried his head in his hands. “I can't win with this conversation.”

Hermione looked down at the red head rolling on the floor, then up at her boyfriend and shook her head. She couldn't be angry with Harry for picking what he obviously thought of as a very happy memory involving her. She just wished he had waited until later to show exactly how much detail he had memorized.

Eventually, Ginny calmed down and climbed back into her chair. She looked at the two and grinned.

“Ginny, I know things have been rough on your family,” Harry said, “but I want you to do what ever it takes to resolve the problem with Charlie. If you can't, tell me. I have to be honest with you. The idea of Charlie hiding something makes me anxious...”

Ginny's grin dropped and her expression grew pained. “I understand why you feel that way, Harry,” she replied, then she stood. “I promise you, I'll either get to the bottom of this or I'll personally kick him out of Haven myself.”

With that, she nodded to them both, then turned and left the room.

“Are you really worried about this, Harry?”

“I am, Hermione. I feel like I'm juggling eggs and people are poking me. There are so many things that can go wrong, so many ways we can be betrayed. I've taken precautions. We have wards around the town, the school and the manor. But I can't help feeling like I'm overlooking something. This business with Charlie makes me nervous. The Weasley family doesn't need this sort of distraction right now.

“Arthur and I have made peace. As for Ginny, we need her focusing on her tasks, not worried about Charlie.”

“It will work itself out. Ginny will see to that,” Hermione said confidently.

Then she stood and walked over to Harry and straddled his lap. “Now, about that image of me in a bikini, Mr. Potter...”

Harry grinned and pulled her closer. “Oh? What about it, soon-to-be-Mrs. Potter?” he asked with a cheeky grin.



* * *



Town of Haven (Evening of July 18th)...

Walking through the village towards her father's cottage, Ginny's thoughts were focused on the meeting due to take place that evening with her family. It was long overdue, in her opinion. It was true that they'd all been busy, but this was something that should have been taken care of much earlier.

Passing by the Ministry building and the Town Hall, her attention was drawn to the noise coming from the pub a few doors down. As she walked closer to it, her brow furrowed as she remembered the reports from the Haven elves she'd read a few days ago. In them, the elves had stated that there had been quiet grumblings in town about Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore. The tone of those reports had concerned her, as they had stated that some people were beginning to wonder if Dumbledore had turned his back on the Potter boy because Potter had turned dark. As Dumbledore had been the leader of the light for more years than Potter had been alive, why was he not in the village, helping Potter with the fight against Voldemort?

As she drew even with the pub, fancifully named The Enchanted Goat, she froze and her eyes narrowed.

Candlelight glowed warm and inviting from the windows and lively music poured forth from the open door. The place seemed to exude a feeling of welcoming laughter and good cheer to all those who passed by.

Looking more closely, Ginny's eyes widened and the hair on the back of her neck rose in warning. The candle glow seemed to dim and the music turned from lively to threatening. She shivered in the early evening light as a feeling of wrongness engulfed her and she knew, without knowing how, that the grumblings heard by the elves came from those within the pub.

“Ginny!”

Spinning quickly, she relaxed when she saw Bill walking towards her. With one last look at the pub, she moved to meet him.

“Is something wrong, short stuff?” Bill asked her, surprised when she wrapped her arms around him and seemed to burrow into him.

“Yes. No. Maybe,” she replied, her voice uneven.

“Well, as long as you're sure,” he teased. When she didn't respond, he pulled away slightly. Tipping her chin up with finger, he looked into her eyes and frowned. “What is it?” he asked gently.

“The pub,” she said quietly as her eyes drifted back to the building. “There's something wrong there, Bill. Don't ask me how I know it, because I'm not sure myself. Something in that place is...wrong.”

Turning, but not letting go of his sister, he gazed at the pub. “Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Maybe I should go in and buy a pint. I might be able to pick up something useful.”

“No!” Ginny pulled away and met his eyes. “Stay out of there, Bill. I don't know what it is, but I do know it's dangerous to us.”

“Us? Dangerous to you and I, the family, or to everyone?”

Ginny paused and looked at the pub once more. “It's dangerous to Haven and everything we have here,” she said, her voice quiet, but sure. “Eocho told me to stop fighting my instincts and to trust my feelings. For once, I'm going to do as I'm told.”

Bill laughed. “Far be it for me to go against your Revered Teacher. However, with your feelings about the place, you should probably talk to O'Dalley about this, since he's in charge of the constables, and inform those up at the manor, as well.”

“You're right. I'll do that after our meeting tonight.”

“Speaking of that, we should get going. We're going to miss dinner if we don't hurry,” Bill told her as he turned her away from the pub and lead her towards the Weasley cottage.



* * *



Padfoot Manor...

Harry stepped into his bedroom and peeled out of his shirt, then removed his basilisk skin undershirt. Haven was firmly in the grip of summer and, despite the cool evenings, the second skin was often very hot to wear.

Putting on a cool, loose t-shirt that read, 'I heard that Voldemort changed his mind today. Wonder what he did with the nappy?', he left the bedroom and headed to the family room where everyone else was waiting.

All conversation ceased when he entered. Tonks took one look at his T-shirt and started to laugh. Remus and Dan tried to hide their laughter. Hermione looked at him and frowned.

“Oh, lighten up, Hermione. Poking fun at Voldemort is amusing,” Harry said with a grin.

“It's not funny, Harry! You know how Voldemort treats insults...” Hermione trailed off and suddenly looked sheepish.

“Right, it's not like he can want to kill me anymore than he already does, love.” Then, with his eyes dancing, he waved his hand at Hermione and her blouse became a tight fitting t-shirt that read, 'I bet Voldemort’s mother had a loud bark.'

Remus doubled over laughing, spilling his drink the process, causing Tonks to slide out of her chair and onto the floor.

With a glare, Hermione stood up and waved her wand at Remus, changing his shirt to read 'Do Not Pet The Woofie.'

Remus looked down at his shirt and then up at Hermione. He eyed her carefully and started to reach for his wand. She squeaked and ran for the door.

In a flash, he was up and after her, but tripped over the still laughing Tonks on the floor.

“Now you know why wizards and witches don't need television,” Harry said smugly to his future in-laws.

With a grin, he sat down, knowing Hermione would be back. Then the cycle of prank and counter-prank would start all over again.



* * *



Weasley Residence, Town of Haven...

Arthur leaned back from the table and watched his family with a fond smile. Ginny and the twins were teasing each other as they finished cleaning the dinner dishes, while Bill and Charlie discussed the charms needed for the planned expansion of the dragon preserve in Romania.

The evening had gone surprisingly well and he was happy to have everyone together for a change. He knew the peace of the evening wouldn't last, but was greedy enough to wish that it could. He held out hope, however, that things would improve after tonight.

When Fred placed a tea cup before him, Arthur blinked in surprise and noticed that everyone was seated at the table once more. Knowing he couldn't put it off any longer, he stood up and excused himself for a moment.

Walking into his bedroom, he approached his night table and gazed down at the stone bowl he'd placed there earlier in the evening. Harry had given the Pensieve to Ginny, and everyone in the family had placed memories within it. Everyone but Charlie. The memories were for him, to help him understand what had lead the family to Haven...and to Harry Potter.

Arthur took the Pensieve from the night table and turned towards the door. As much as he had enjoyed the peace of the evening, it was time for Charlie to learn the truth, no matter how much pain it caused.

Seeing their father walk into the kitchen with the Pensieve, Bill and George rose and moved to stand behind Charlie's chair. When Arthur placed the bowl on the table, Ginny and Fred stood up and waited.

“What's that?” Charlie asked, looking at the Pensieve. Then, seeing that everyone was standing, he pushed his chair back. When he gained his feet, however, Bill and George took his arms, gently but firmly, and held him in place.

“What's going on?” Charlie asked angrily.

“It's time for you to learn the truth,” Arthur said quietly. “Your brothers, sister and I have all placed memories into the Pensieve. Tonight, you will view them and, I hope, understand why our family is here.”

Charlie tried to jerk his arms away from his brothers, but they held him firmly. “Pensieve memories can be altered,” he all but snarled.

“True, but these haven't been,” Arthur said calmly as he removed the shield he'd placed over the Pensieve. “You know us, Charlie, and you know at least some of what you will see here. Once you've seen them, you'll be able to judge for yourself the truthfulness of our memories.”

Arthur touched the contents of the bowl with his wand. Then, nodding to Bill and George, he watched as they forced Charlie's hand over the bowl until all three touched the silver liquid.

Turning to face Ginny and Fred, Arthur nodded once more, and they all reached out, touched the liquid and felt themselves drawn down as they, too, fell into the memories placed in the bowl.

When the scene in front of him unfolded, Charlie's eyes widened. They were in the living room of the Burrow. Before him sat Albus Dumbledore and his parents. As he listened the Headmaster explain to his parents why they should take the money from Harry Potter's trust fund, he glanced at his father. The look of self recrimination and loathing on Arthur's face surprised him.

Turning back, he listened to Dumbledore explain to his parents that if they didn't take the money, it would go to Harry's aunt and uncle when the boy died facing Voldemort, rewarding them for their years of abuse.

After his parents agreed to the Headmaster's request, the scene faded and everything went gray for a moment before the next took shape.

Dumbledore, still in the living room of the Burrow, trying to convince his mother and father to maneuver Ron into meeting Harry on the train in first year, befriending him, then reporting his actions and thoughts to the Headmaster. His parents agreed to Dumbledore's request, and the scene changed again.

They were still in the Burrow, but had shifted to the kitchen. Here, Ron was demanding money from his parents. When they refused, he told them he would tell Harry that they were stealing from him. As they reluctantly agreed, Dumbledore came into view, and Charlie watched as the old man convinced Ron of the need for secrecy about the money the family now had access to.

One after the other, the memories came.

Hermione, standing in the Great Hall at Hogwarts, telling the student body about Ron's attempted to rape her and Dumbledore's lack of action to protect the female students.

Molly calling Hermione a hussy and attempting to strike her in The Three Broomsticks after the Board meeting.

Dumbledore telling the Order that the Brotherhood was evil and in control of Harry Potter, who was being trained to kill Voldemort, only to replace him as the next Dark Lord.

Ron finding Ginny in a broom closet and beating her until she fell unconscious.

Molly striking Bill at the Burrow.

Charlie wept as he saw his sweet, loving mother become a greedy, thieving shrew and his youngest brother become someone he didn't recognize. As much as he tried to deny the memories he was seeing, they had a ring of truthfulness to them that made it impossible.

And still, the memories went on, tearing down his beliefs one by one until he was left with nothing but the horrible truth of what his mother and brother had become.

As the last memory faded, the kitchen of his father's cottage snapped back into place as he was ejected from the Pensieve. Taking two steps back from the table, he faced his family as the tears ran freely down his cheeks.

“How? How did all of this happen?” Charlie choked out.

“Your mother and I listened to the wrong person, Charlie,” Arthur said tiredly. Placing his palms on the table, he shook his head. “We, like you, felt that Dumbledore was the wisest man to lead the fight against the Dark Lord. At first, his requests seemed logical and I felt we were doing the right thing in agreeing to them. But then, slowly, things started to change. Your mother became obsessed with the money we were receiving from Dumbledore and I came to realize that, no matter how the Headmaster rationalized what we were doing, it was still stealing, and from a young man who thought of us like family. When I tried to speak to your mother about it, she wouldn't hear of it. And once Ron found out about the money, things began to spiral out of control.”

Arthur looked away from his family and down at the table top. “It's a horrible thing to tell your child that you are a thief and a liar, but that is what I am, Charlie,” he said, his voice thick. “And that is what your mother and Ron were, as well. I got out, confessed my crimes to Amelia, your brothers and sister, and to Harry. I should have written to you, as well. I can only apologize to you for not telling you sooner, for not explaining what was happening to the family while you were in Romania, but it was too painful.”

When Ginny wormed her way under her father's arm and hugged him, he wrapped his arms around her and looked at Charlie. “As for the other memories, they all stem from Dumbledore and his manipulations of our family. His ultimate goal, we think, was to gain control of Harry. He attempted to have himself named Harry's guardian and he set Ron to spying on him. He even granted an interview with Rita Skeeter, in which he told the world that Harry was turning dark, or some such rubbish, and that, on top of the physical abuse young Harry suffered, he was also raped, which is untrue and only made Harry's life that much more difficult.”

Charlie looked at his family, seeing the truth in their eyes, and blanched. “But all my life you and mum have told me how powerful and good Dumbledore is! How we should all listen to him and obey him!”

“And we were wrong,” Arthur said as he released Ginny, took a step towards Charlie and placed a hand on his shoulder. “No one is perfect, son. I've made many mistakes in my life, but none worse than listening to Dumbledore. Had I not done so, your mother and Ron would be here now.”

“This has to be a lie, all of it!” Charlie exclaimed, jerking away from his father and looking around the kitchen frantically.

“It's not,” Bill said quietly.

“Everything you've seen and been told is the truth,” George added.

“We wouldn't lie to you, Charlie,” Ginny told him earnestly.

“Oh, Merlin, what have I done?” Charlie whispered.

“Done?” Fred asked, puzzled.

Charlie backed away from his family until his back touched the wall. “You're not lying? Dumbledore is the reason our family was torn apart? Why mum and Ron...” Seeing the nods from the twins, Bill and his father, he fell slowly to his knees and buried his head in his hands. “What have I done? What have I done!”

Ginny scowled. “Yes, just what have you done?”

“Ginny,” Bill admonished.

“No, Bill,” she said, her gaze never leaving Charlie's kneeling form. “He's done something...something that could cost us...all of us.” Her eyes narrowed.

“Charlie?” Arthur asked, kneeling next to his son. “What is it?”

Charlie looked up at his father, his expression one of horror and remorse. “I brought Dumbledore into Haven,” he whispered.

“What?!” Bill, the twins and Arthur all exclaimed with varying degrees of disbelief .

“The pub,” Ginny said quietly, her eyes riveted on Charlie. “He's running the pub!”

“Ginny?” Bill asked.

“It fits,” she said, still staring at Charlie. “My instincts tell me I'm right. He's here, running the pub, gathering information.” She looked up then, startled, as the sound of a loud, shrieking siren pierced the darkness outside and reached those in the cottage.

“The wards!” Arthur shouted, bolting to his feel. “Someone or something has breached the wards!”



* * *



Padfoot Manor...

When everyone finally calmed down, Harry found himself sitting on a couch with Hermione curled up close beside him. He was reading a volume on advanced transfiguration. Hermione, too, was reading, while Dan and Emma tried to teach Remus and Tonks how to play bridge.

Suddenly the candles in the room flared brightly and the manor rang with a pure bell tone. Harry leapt to his feet, causing Hermione to fall to her back on the couch.

“The town's under attack! Remus, get to the Operation Center. We may need help,” Harry snapped.

Remus paled. “Harry, most of the Aurors are away at the Academy for that training session.”

“Damnit! Fine, get whatever help they can provide. I'm going to Government House. O'Dalley should know where the attack is happening,” Harry said. Then he gestured and his staff appeared in his hand. A moment later, he vanished without a sound.

Winky appeared then and handed Hermione her staff.

“Mum? Dad? Do you have your wands on you?” Hermione asked.

Both nodded.

“Fine, let's follow Harry. You two will stay at Government House and help out however you can,” Hermione said.

Dan frowned. “I”m not letting you go out there alone, Hermione Jane!”

“Yes, you will! You two are not trained for this yet, she is. Maybe one day you'll join her, but not today,” Tonks said in an even tone. Gone were all traces of the happy go lucky woman, replaced by the unflappable Auror.

Remus vanished with a pop, then Hermione. A moment later, the room was empty.



* * *



Government House, Haven...

Harry appeared in the center of the ready room for the town constabulary, and found it was a madhouse.

“We have Dementors coming at us from four different directions,” someone shouted.

O'Dalley rushed into the room carrying a large map. He leaned the map up against a wall and marked off four different spots. “We have Dementors here, here, here and here. Right now, I have a few men capable of casting a Patronus holding them off, but I've had reports that they aren't alone. One of our boys was killed with a killing curse, and the Dementors are being driven forward.”

Harry's eyes widened. One of the locations where Dementors had been spotted was dangerously close to the Johansen farm. O'Dalley cast a glance at Harry.

“I'm going to the Johansens. Send help as soon as you can,” Harry said, then he was gone.



* * *



Johansen Farmhouse...

Harry appeared in the country lane leading up to the farm house. All the lights were out and he could hear screaming and weeping coming from inside, then suddenly the sound of a shotgun going off.

Feeling a strange writhing sensation on his arm, Harry reached up to pull back his sleeve. Before he could reach it, Padfoot burst through his sleeve and, growing as he went, came to a sitting position next to him.

The huge Grim thumped his tail a few times as he looked at Harry. Then he looked at the farm house and growled.

“Come on, Padfoot,” Harry said tensely.

Moving as fast as he could, he hurtled through the door. Padfoot followed a moment later. The family was huddled in the center of the family room. Sven stood unsteadily and fumbled with his shotgun, trying to reload.

The room was frigid.

Mama held as many of the children as she could, weeping from the effects of the Dementors. Even though the adults couldn't see the Dementors, they could feel them, and Cally, the oldest of the children, was pointing them out to Sven.

The Dementors circled above the family, driving the fears of the children to a fever pitch.

“Padfoot, protect the children,” Harry snapped.

The large spectral dog bounded into the middle of the huddled family, then viciously snapped at an outstretched claw of a Dementor.

The Dementor snatched its hand out of the way and a low howl issued from under its hood.

“Expecto Patronum!” Harry shouted. A blaze of blinding white light exploded from his staff. Prongs burst forth, catching several Dementors on his antlers and goring them. Harry's aura burst from his body and the entire house lit up.

A moment later, an otter flew through the window, then a lion, then other Patronus creatures, pushing the Dementors back.

“Everyone outside! Now!” Harry barked.

Sven jerked as if he had been shocked, then he moved to Mama and they started to push the kids towards the front door. Padfoot followed slowly behind the children, growling and snarling at the Dementors.

The children spilled out the front door, crying and holding onto each other fearfully. Harry grabbed Sven's arm before he could leave. “Is that all of them?”

Sven looked around, taking a quick head count. “Ja, except for the twins,” he said. Then he choked, realizing he had no idea about the fate of his daughters.

“Fine, go,” Harry said, pushing the older man forward. Then he turned and directed Prongs against several Dementors that were trying to follow the children through the door.

Harry had just about cleared the house when he heard someone outside shout, “Protego!”

There was a flash of light and the house shuddered. A corner of the house exploded in a shower of splinters from a Reducto r that had bounced off the shield.

Harry ran to the Johansen family, huddled behind Hermione, Draco, Luna and Ginny. His friends were casting shields, as they had come under Death Eater fire.

Harry frowned. The ward must come very close to the house, he thought. He could see one dead Death Eater and two others, who were firing upon the children.

Draco and Ginny started to send curses at the Death Eaters.

“Expecto Patronum!” he shouted again.

With the others fighting Death Eaters, they couldn't deal with the Dementors, who were now circling the group.

Again Prongs sprang from his staff and rushed at the Dementors. Harry could see several constables running up the road to help them. One man stopped right in front of Harry and added his own shield to the fire fight.

“Sir, the Patronuses aren't chasing off the Dementors. The Death Eaters can't cross the ward, but they're driving the Dementors to a killing frenzy,” gasped the man.

Harry nodded in reply. He stepped over to join Hermione and the others when Luna suddenly stood up.

“Luna!” Draco screamed and he reached for her. Luna nimbly stepped out of his grip and danced over to Harry.

“I'm sorry, Harry, but I need your help,” she said in a soft voice, then she grabbed his free hand.

When her hand made contact with his, a several bursts of light rose up around them. Harry pitched forward to his knees, screaming in pain. He felt like every piece of his body was exploding. Spots burst into his vision and he tried to yank his hand free, but Luna had him in an iron grip.

Hermione looked up at Luna, then at Harry and her expression hardened. “Stupefy !” she shouted, aiming her staff at Luna. The red beam of light arced the distance and vanished.

“I'm sorry, Hermione. You'll understand soon enough, but you can't stop this,” Luna said dreamily, her voicing taking on a strange, echoing quality.

Hermione moved to raise her staff again, but Draco tackled her from behind, pinning her to the ground.

“No!” he gasped.

“But she's killing him!” Hermione cried, pointing at Harry writhing on the ground. Hermione began to struggle with Draco, but he was too strong.

Around them the lights that had appeared started to swirl and spin. As they did, each became larger and larger. The Dementors began to back away from the area.

Ginny broke her gaze away from Harry, who seemed to be in terrible pain, and looked up at the bright lights.

One light broke free from the rest, rising above the ground and, as it did, it took shape. Ginny watched in awe as a creature appeared. It would have looked fairy-like, had it not been as tall as a person and glowing blindingly white.

Huge white wings unfurled and the creature swooped down over a Dementor.

It gripped the Dementor with it's front paws and the wings wrapped around it, trapping it. There came a high pitched keening sound from the hovering creature and it dipped its beautiful face into the space created by the wings.

Ginny gasped when the wings suddenly snapped open and ash and a black cloak fell to the ground. All around her, other lights formed into the fairy-like creatures. In a matter of moments, they had consumed all the Dementors in the area, then they took wing again to find more prey.

The remaining Death Eater, seeing the destruction of the Dementor, apparated away.

When Luna released Harry's hand, his writhing ceased and he lapsed into silence.

There was a small popping noise next to Luna and a small, naked man with a horn in his forehead appeared. The man grabbed his privates and gestured rudely at Luna. He jerked hard on himself several times.

Luna smiled at the little man and patted his head, which only made him angrier.

“Yes, I know. Now be a dear and run off,” she murmured.

The little man passed an enormous amount of wind, then vanished as if that had been his propellant. Draco and Hermione turned a little green after catching a whiff. Harry sniffed once and moaned then he started to sit up.

Hermione pushed Draco off her and went to help him.

“Harry?”

Hermione wrapped an arm around him and he leaned against her tiredly. “Merlin, what hit me?” he whispered.

“Luna,” Hermione said angrily, shooting the younger woman an angry glare.

Luna looked over at Hermione and Harry, her expression sad. “I'm sorry, Harry. I needed your power. It was the only way.”

Harry shook his head groggily. “The only way... Wait, what about the Dementors?” he asked, feeling stupid.

“Eaten, I think. I don't know what Luna did, but they ate them,” Ginny said in an awed tone.

“They? Ginny, what are you talking about?”

“Luna grabbed your hand, Harry. You screamed in pain and suddenly she was surrounded by hundreds of white lights. The lights turned into these things that looked like beautiful glowing fairies.”

“Angels,” Luna said primly.

Ginny looked at the girl startled. “Angels? Alright then, angels,” she murmured.

“I created them, with Harry's help, so I get to name them. Would you prefer Glowing Clipshards instead? Or Floating Smugworts?,” Luna said with a smile.

“Fine, angels then. Where did they come from?” Hermione asked angrily.

“From nature, Hermione. If you want, you can consider them an anti-Dementors, or the Dementor predator we talked about. I didn't have enough power to do it myself, so I borrowed Harry's power,” Luna replied.

“Is that why I feel like I've been beaten?” Harry asked in a plaintive tone.

“I'm sorry, Harry. I didn't know it would cause you so much pain. But nature wasn't going to create them for another thousand years or so. With your power, we hurried the process,” Luna said contritely.

Hermione moved to say something, but Harry stopped her. “No, Hermione, it's alright. She didn't do it on purpose. I think she saved us all.”

“Look, this is all fine and dandy, I suppose, but I think we should be getting back to town. We need to help the Johansens with their children,” Draco said in a tense voice.

Suddenly everyone else realized they were surrounded by frightened children.

Harry stood unevenly and leaned heavily on his staff. “What about the Death Eaters?”

“I think Sven might have gotten one with his gun, Harry,” Draco said in a soft voice. “They were able to come very close to the house here.”

Harry nodded wearily. “Yeah, the farm house is on the very edge of the town. I couldn't extend the line out any farther without someone helping me in a power sharing... Merlin! Now, I know why we use a ritual to share power. Luna just about drained me dry.”

Harry looked over at Sven, who was stilling holding his shotgun and scanning the night sky. He stood very close to Mama, who was hugging her children. Once they'd all been hugged, she simply started over again, working her way from the littlest to the biggest.

“Sven, let's get to town. There will be food and medicine there for us,” Harry said.

Sven nodded. “We fix those men good, eh Harry?”

Harry smiled at the older man, while Mama picked up little Linda and started to lead her children down the lane towards town. Hermione wormed her way under Harry's arm, helping to steady him, and one of the constables walked discretely behind him, ready to catch him if necessary.

Everyone paused upon entering the town square. There were lights everywhere and people were rushing back and forth. Healers were running around pressing chocolate into every empty hand they could spot.

“I'll see to the Johansen's,” Draco said, then he led Luna off, with Mama and Papa Johansen following.

Harry motioned towards the fountain in the center of the square and they made their way over to it and sat on the edge.

“Hermione! Harry!” shouted Emma Granger as she rushed up to them, Dan right behind her.

Emma pressed a large piece of chocolate into Hermione's hand and another into Harry's.

Harry took a bite and waited for the rush of sweetness to wash away the numb feeling. Almost immediately, he started to relax and lean against Hermione, while Emma fussed over them both.

“Oh, Merlin! I forgot in all the rush!” shouted Ginny, who suddenly paled.

“Ginny?” Harry asked cautiously. What else could go wrong? he asked himself.

“Harry, I'm so sorry... We found out what Charlie was hiding just as the attack started,” Ginny said in a rush. Her expression was filled with shame.

Harry's eyes narrowed. “What?” he asked in a hard tone.

“Charlie snuck Dumbledore into Haven. He's here right now! He's disguised himself and is running that new pub.” Ginny stammered, then backed away from him as he stood up.

“Dumbledore,” he hissed and his aura flared, blinding those nearby.

Harry, his exhaustion masked by a fresh dose of adrenaline, walked toward The Enchanted Goat. With a worried look, Hermione moved to follow him, with the others close behind.

Harry walked up to the front of The Enchanted Goat. He raised his staff and the door exploded upwards in thousands of fragments.

“Dumbledore!” Harry thundered. “Come out here, old man!”

The music ceased from inside the pub and those patrons who had not been helping people started to run from the building. Several men spilled out the hole where the front door used to be, others climbed out the windows.

“Dumbledore!” Harry shouted again. “Come out, you coward!”

Suddenly a figure appeared in the doorway. The man was tall and completely bald. In one hand he held a wand, in the other a glass orb.

“Diffendo!” Dumbledore shouted, pointing his wand at Harry.

Harry contemptuously batted the curse to one side with his staff. “Stupefy !”

He had every intention of capturing Dumbledore alive, if possible.

Dumbledore put up a shield and cast another spell. Harry's shielded and returned fire, but his exhaustion started to work against him.

The two men exchanged curses at faster and faster rates, then suddenly Harry got clipped by a powerful bludger and he spun around. He whirled back in time to see Dumbledore hurl the orb at him.

“Incendio !” Harry shouted, and Dumbledore shrieked as his robes burst into flames.

Then, with a loud, cracking sound, Dumbledore vanished from view.

Harry started to back away when the orb landed at his feet and exploded, hurling him skyward. He had just enough time for a single thought before darkness took him.

I really hate that man.



* * *



Authors Notes:

Well, another chapter down and some issues are working towards a resolution. Others we've barely scratched and that is how it should be. Never forget our primary aim is to tease and twist the reader's knickers until they bunch up and slide into that crack in a very uncomfortable manner.

“Stop that! You're giving away our secrets!” Alyx shouted at Bob.

Sigh...

Moving right along then.

To the reader who asked a bunch of questions. Yes, yes, yes, no, no, maybe, yes, no, never, no, no, yes, and maybe. Please use these answers for your questions in any order that makes you happy.

For all those that wished Alyx well with her spider bite, she is doing better and she thanks you. Currently, the bite appears to be healing and the antibiotics took care of the secondary infection. However, now for the bad news. She is recovering from her spider bite and suffering from a husband bite. I warned her about reaching for my donuts!!

Support for the AK enema, strangely enough, is picking up. Frankly, I don't understand the appeal of shoving something up your butt, but then, that's one of the reasons why I'll never write a slash fic... except as a parody.

Yes, Kristina, there is a Santa Claus and Ron Weasley is most definitely dead in the Sun series.

To those of you who saw fit to correct us about the proper usage of the honorific 'Sir', we thank you from the bottom of our hearts. We're just poor ignorant colonials who don't use such elitist titles. DOWN WITH... (smack smack smack)

“Bob! Stop it!”

“Yes, dear.”

So many enjoyed the idea of Snape in a thong that we're considering repeating the event at our next annual Christmas party. However, for those who can't make it to the party, we'll send you photos. Thanks!

We'll start seeing more of Harry's T-Shirts soon, I promise.

Hagrid is currently working as keeper of keys and grounds as well as Care of Magical Creatures at the Haven School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Like Professor Sprout, he was caught by surprise with the evacuation of Hogwarts and went along for the ride.

The UPDATELESS LIST!!!

Harry Potter and Merlin's Gifts by GryffRavHuffSlythendor

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/1991243/1/

This is a nice tale about Harry finding someone willing to help him after the DoM fight. Unfortunately if was first started in 2004 and hasn't been updated since December of 2005. Has it been abandoned? Perhaps.





Sunrise Over Britain

Chapter 10 - Angels and Weddings


Standard Disclaimer:

The curtains pull back and spotlight lights up center stage. There is a moment of silence and then you can clearly hear the sound of approaching footsteps. Slowly the figure of Alan Rickman enters the pool of light and he bows, then smiles at the audience.

“WOOO WOOO! GET NAKED!!!” shouted a voice from the audience.

Harry turned to Hermione. “Do you really want to see that slimy git naked?” he asked in a hurt tone.

Hermione blinked and realized she might have gone too far. “I just want to a few photos for my scrapbook!”

Harry turned and grabbed at his program reading it angrily.

Rickman frowned. “I will not get naked, not for you Miss Granger, or for anyone else. I am a serious artist!”

“Yeah yeah, artist my arse,” muttered Harry. Hermione elbowed Harry in the eye.

“Show us your butt!” she yelled.

“Do you mind? I am here at the gracious invitation of the authors who would like me to tell you that they make no claim whatsoever to the Potter universe. All that stuff belongs to JK Rowling. And on a more personal note, I too hate Snape and am quite thankful that no one in their right mind would possibly confuse me for a character I play in some silly movie.”

“Yeah yeah enough talk! Get Naked already!” Hermione shouted, then she swished her wand an a loud disco beat began to play. A mirror ball lowered from the ceiling and Rickman suddenly found himself on Roller skates wearing only a pink pair of speedos.

Rickman looked up in outrage while Hermione tried to climb over the rows of seats to get to the stage. She nearly made it to the stage when Draco and Luna pushed him off the stage. Hermione scampered onto the stage and looked around uncertainly. A noise from one of the balcony booths drew her attention.

“No you can't do this! I'm under contract. Wait, I'll tell them I won't do the movies anymore! Noooo!”

Suddenly Rickman, aka Snape, plunged through one of the curtains and plummeted a hundred feet to his death. Draco and Luna look at each other, smiled, then winked at Harry.

“Death to Roller Disco!” shouted Luna from the balcony.

“Funny, I thought Disco was making a come back,” murmured Bob.

“Over my dead body,” snarled Alyx.

“Nooooooo!!!!” wailed Hermione.

Alyx turned to Bob and glared at him. “Back to the Snape/Rickman thing again are we?”

Bob shrugged. “Sometimes the old material is the best material. Besides, if he's dead, they'll have to write Snape out of the movies.”

“You are evil and must be destroyed!” Alyx proclaimed holding a pitchfork.

“Yes dear I know,” replied the unflappable Bob.



* * *



Sunrise over Britain

Chapter 10





* * *



Haven Town Square (July 18th)...

Hermione watched in horror as Harry and Dumbledore dueled. Had the circumstances been different, she would have laughed at the comical sight of the completely bald ex-headmaster. He looked as though he had been the hapless victim of a Weasley prank.

The reality, however, was far more sinister.

She tried several times to get a shot in, but her father had held her too far back from the fight. Ginny had moved closer, but Bill intercepted her as well. She cried out when Harry landed a weakened flame curse on Dumbledore and he apparated away with his robes aflame. Barely a second later, Harry was thrown a good twenty feet from the front of the Enchanted Goat when the orb Dumbledore had hurled at him exploded at his feet.

Harry landed with a sickening thud and slid a few feet. Hermione couldn't help but moan in pain seeing him lying so still on the ground. She fought against her father's hold, but Dan was too shocked to do anything but hold her tighter.

The fight was over and it took several seconds for that fact to sink into the minds of the stunned onlookers. It had been a public battle with literally hundreds of witnesses, all of whom were still recovering from the nights Dementor attack.

A collective sigh went through the crowd and Hermione finally broke free from Dan's grasp.

“Harry!” she shouted and ran to his side.

He lay on the gravel road, bleeding from several wounds. Hermione dropped to her knees next to him and reached out, then pulled her hand back. She wasn't sure where she could touch him. He coughed once and opened his eyes.

“Hermione?” he whispered.

“Shhhh. Rest, Harry,” Hermione said through her tears.

Another man squatted down on next to Harry and started to cast diagnostic spells. The man did a doubletake when he recognized Harry.

“Well, Harry, we meet again. No, don't move yet. I'll get you fixed up,” Sam said.

“Hi, Sam,” Harry replied weakly and he tried to smile.

Sam looked at Hermione. “Say, Harry, who's the pretty girl? Friend of yours?”

“Sam, meet Hermione, my fiancée,” he mumbled.

Hermione nodded to the healer. Then looked surprised when he reached over and grabbed her hands, placing them on Harry's shoulders.

“Pleased to meet you, now hold him flat for a moment,” Sam said with a small smile. “Harry look into your pretty lady's eyes. This is going to hurt.”

He nodded and stared up at Hermione. Sam rotated Harry's arm, then gave a strong pull on it. Harry moaned and he arched his back against Hermione's hands as his shoulder popped back into the socket.

Sam ran a few more diagnostics and frowned as he leaned down and pushed up Harry's pants leg.

“That's an old injury,” Hermione murmured.

“I'll say,” Sam replied, then looked down at Harry. “Alright, you've scrapped a nice bit of skin off your back with that slide, and you had a dislocated shoulder. Asides from that, you're exhausted. Have your regular healer check you over and get some sleep. Oh, and no magic for at least 24 hours after you wake up.”

Harry nodded tiredly at the healer, then looked up at Hermione, who was still kneeling by his head with her hands on his shoulders. She looked down at him and her expression hardened.

“Just what did you think you were going to do, Harry James Potter? You were exhausted and you went to fight Dumbledore? Are you insane? You could have waited a day so we could plan and capture him. But no, you have to be the Bloody Boy-With-No-Brains and run off to a fight which nearly got you killed! We're getting married in two weeks and you're picking fights!”

“He started it,” Harry mumbled.

That, of course, was the wrong thing to say, as it only wound her up more. She applied guilt like a pro, delivered a passionate appeal to him about what he put her through, and threatened him with bodily harm if he ever scared her like that again. When she took a deep breath to continue her rant, Dan stopped her by placing a hand on her shoulder and squeezing gently.

“Hermione, look,” Emma said.

Hermione looked down, only to find him fast asleep.

“Lets get him up to the manor,” Dan suggested.

Hermione conjured a stretcher and levitated Harry onto it. She was about to levitate the stretcher when the healer held up his hand.

“He's Harry Potter?” Sam asked in an incredulous tone.

Hermione nodded tiredly, then lifted the stretcher for the walk back to the manor.

Sam watched Hermione and her parents head off to the manor after thanking him for his help. Then he shook his head and turned to see if there was anyone else in need of help.

“Well I'll be dipped in shit,” he muttered to himself with a grin, then turned to the business of handing out chocolate.



* * *



Cairngorn Mountains, Scotland...

The cottage was very isolated and, while old, it appeared to be well maintained.

As such, no one saw the flaming person who appeared on the porch of the small cottage. There was a whooshing sound when the flames were extinguished and then, swaying, the person ripped the still smoldering clothing from his body.

Naked, Dumbledore stumbled a few feet, gasping in pain, before collapsing to his knees. He swayed from the pain of the burns and then pitched forward, face down.

Silence descended once again on the remote mountain cottage and for a moment, nothing disturbed it. Then the door to the cottage opened and a pair of elvish arms reached out, pulled Dumbledore inside and slammed the door behind him.



* * *



Padfoot Manor (July 19th)...

Hermione watched Harry wake from his deep sleep. Danni had been in and out several times during the night while Hermione dozed fitfully on divan. According to Danni, his magical core was quickly returning to normal levels. The greatest damage had been to his shoulder and that was healing nicely, even if it would be sore for the next day.

She shook her head, trying to wake up. Magical Medicine was in some ways more advanced than Muggle Medicine and in others more primitive. Danni knew that Harry's arm and shoulder would be sore today, but it hadn't occurred to her to have him put his arm into a sling for the day. For all the power those in the magical world had, it still amazed her that they missed the simple things.

A sound from the bed caused her to cease day dreaming as she stood up and moved quickly towards the bed.

“Ow,” moaned Harry as he tried to stretch. He sat up unsteadily and swung his legs off the bed. He made a move to wipe at his face with his hand and winced in pain.

“I really blew it last night didn't I?” he asked, hanging his head.

“Yes, you did.”

“I let my anger lead instead of my head,” he said ruefully, then he shook his head.

Hermione refrained from saying anything. Now that she'd had time to calm down, she knew his own sense of right and wrong would be bad enough without her adding to it. The last thing he need was her to start ranting at him again.

Harry straightened and winced again. “What's wrong with my shoulder and arm?”

“You dislocated your shoulder last night. It's going to be sore today. Danni left you a potion to drink. It will speed the healing enough that, by tomorrow, it should be fine. Also, she agrees with that American Healer. No magic for you today. Luna's little stunt left you almost totally drained. Your little fight with Dumbledore certainly didn't help, either,” Hermione said, trying to keep the biting edge out of her voice.

“Are you still mad at her?”

Hermione moved to stand in front of him, her hands on her hips. “Harry, she nearly drained you dry last night. And we both know if it weren't for that, you wouldn't have gotten hurt by Dumbledore,” she replied angrily.

Harry sighed, looked out the window and his eyes become unfocused as he remembered the details of the night before. “The pain was incredible, but at the same time, I could feel her pleading for help. I think she had to feel the same level of pain I was feeling during the power sharing. She didn't mean to hurt me,” he said softly.

Hermione sat next to him on the bed and leaned against his good shoulder. “I know,” she replied with a heavy sigh. “But she hurt you so bad and I was afraid for you,” she finished in a whisper.

“Well, I'm better now,” he said with a grin. “And now we have something to combat the Dementors, just like you wanted.”

Hermione sat up straight and frowned, crossing her arms across her chest. “Yes, Luna's Angels.”

“So that's what she's going to call them? Not Free Floating Grumpmucks, or Albino Snorkacks?”

“Oh no, she's staying with Angels. And, honestly, I'm not too sure she's wrong about the name,” Hermione said with her first real smile of the morning.

Harry turned to look at her and arched an eyebrow in a questioning glance. “Oh?”

“Well, she was right about what they do. Apparently they feed off Dementors. When no Dementors are available, they seem to like being around happy people. It's almost as if they feed off the happiness. We're not sure exactly how many Angels were born last night, but we guess it was close to fifty. Of those, most have already left Haven, but three pair have stayed. One pair is hanging around the school, another is in town near the primary school, and the final pair has taken up residence near the Johansens home.”

Harry groaned and put his head in his hand. “The Johansens! How could I have forgotten about them? Are...”

“Relax, Harry, they're fine. They were a bit shook up, but I think the Angels nearby are helping the children even more than the chocolate did.”

“But what about...”

“Harry, enough,” Hermione said with no small measure of annoyance in her voice. “Right now you need to get up, take a long soak in the tub to help heal that shoulder, then have some breakfast. After that, I've arranged for several people to meet with you to fill you in on the details.”

Harry looked at her in surprise, then grinned. “Are you handling me, Mrs. Potter-to-be?”

Hermione smoothed her skirt and looked at him primly. “If I don't, no one else will, Mr. Potter,” she replied with an impish grin.

One hour and a hot bath later, Harry walked back into his bedroom, half dressed. Hermione looked up from the breakfast table.

“Keep your robe on and don't put on a shirt just yet. Danni wants to have one final look before you get dressed,” she called.

Harry nodded and sat down at the table with her. She smiled and offered him a pastry.

“So, who's coming to the meeting this morning?” he asked, trying to sound casual. If there was one thing he had learned about Hermione it was that if she didn't want to talk about something, you might as well speak to the walls.

Hermione eyed him suspiciously for a moment, then shrugged. “I've asked Amelia, Remus and Michael O'Dalley. Ginny asked to bring Charlie around later, but I told her I would get back to her after talking to you about it.”

Harry frowned and was about to reply when the door to the bedroom opened. Danni walked in, her eyes examining him before she ever reached him. Emma followed, closing the door behind her.

“Ah, you're awake. Good. That saves me the trouble of waking you. Have you had a soak this morning?” Danni asked, walking over to stand next to the table.

Harry nodded and eyed the healer warily.

She shook her head at him, though her eyes danced. “You know, if you didn't get yourself hurt like this, I wouldn't have to poke and prod you, Harry,” she said, openly grinning.

Harry scowled at her, but she ignored him, concentrating instead on pulling his robe off his shoulder. She ran a quick diagnostic charm, which caused his shoulder to glow a soft blue tinged with green. She bent over to examine the glow more closely, then stood up, smiling.

“Excellent, you're healing well and should be fine by tomorrow morning. Until then, don't aggravate your arm by moving it too much. As for your core, it's nearly recharged. I'd lay off any big magics for today, if I were you,” Danni said warningly.

Harry nodded and peeled out of his robe with the healer's help. Then she helped him put on a T-Shirt that read, “I refuse to star in Voldemort's psychodrama!”



* * *



Weasley Residence, Haven...

Charlie Weasley sat at one corner of the table and kept mostly to himself. Last night's revelation about Dumbledore had him stunned still. The attack that followed almost immediately afterward and Harry's duel with Dumbledore seemed a blur. It hadn't been until the early hours that he had finally managed to get to sleep. He had followed his father and helped where he could last night.

When he had gotten up this morning, Ginny had stopped by to inform him that he would be seeing Harry up at the manor house later today. He had to admit now that Ginny frightened him. She was a truly formidable witch and totally unbendable when it came to certain issues.

Arthur looked worriedly between the two of them and offered to come with Charlie for his meeting with Harry. It was an offer Charlie gratefully accepted.

“Worried about meeting with, Harry?” asked Arthur in a sympathetic tone.

“A little,” Charlie mumbled in reply.

“It's never easy to admit you've made a mistake, Charlie, especially to Harry. I remember when I came clean with him back around the holidays,” Arthur said, expression softening. “He was willing to give me another chance, despite what we've done to him as a family.”

“How could Ron have done those things, Dad? I mean, we all knew he liked Hermione, but... Bloody bollocks, what a pounce I've turned into,” Charlie said.

Arthur laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Perhaps, but knowing you've made a mistake is the first step to fixing it. As to Ron... well, he changed,” he said pensively, running a hand through his thinning hair. “He became someone else, someone we didn't know. I will always mourn the Ron I like to remember, the small boy in love with chess and Quidditch.”

Charlie nodded thoughtfully and stared for a moment at his bowl of cereal before speaking again. “I don't know if I've ever felt more ashamed, Dad,” he said in a voice barely above a whisper. “I put everyone in danger by bringing Dumbledore into Haven, and now my own sister hates me.”

“I don't hate you, Charlie,” Ginny said in a flat voice. “I think you're pig-headed, stubborn and a bloody ass for refusing to believe us. I hate that we had to force you into a Pensieve to see the real memories. And for forcing us to relive those painful memories. You broke trust with your family and that's going to take a long time to regain. But you're my brother and I don't hate you.”

Charlie's head lifted up and he looked at his little sister. For the first time since he arrived in Haven, he could see the twinkle in her eyes and a slight smile tugging at her lips. Charlie smiled back at his sister and a little weight lifted from his heart.



* * *



Padfoot Manor...

Harry sat at his desk in his study. He had finally managed to get Hermione to stop hovering over him and sit down. Emma had put his arm into a sling. It made it easier for him to move around, but harder to do some things. Danni, after taking a close look at the sling, approved of it, and told him to live with it for today, no matter how annoying it may become.

Now he sat reading a list of the casualties from last nights attack. It looked bad initially, but even he had to admit that they had been incredibly lucky. They'd had one death from a killing curse, and one adult kissed by a Dementor. There were dozens of minor injuries caused by people running in panic. He frowned when he saw that a number of small children had been injured in the panic when a few Dementors had come close to one of the residential streets.

After several minutes he wordlessly passed the report to Hermione to read, then wiped a hand over his face tiredly. “I think we got off lucky,” he murmured.

“Lucky? It's a bloody miracle,” Amelia said with a snort. “Had it not been for the Angels, we would have had a bloody disaster on our hands.”

“I don't like this part about the children,” Hermione said with an unhappy expression.

O'Dalley looked thoughtful. “How about organizing a block defense?”

Everyone turned to look at him.

O'Dalley tried to hide his grin. “It's simple, really. I was reading about some of the things the muggles did in their great war, and this was one of the ideas that struck me as making sense. If it had been in place last night, there would have been fewer injuries.”

Hermione pressed him on the concept. “How does it work?” she asked intently.

“It's not a big deal. We select a few trusty people on each block and call them 'Wardens'. In the event of an attack, it's their job to direct people to previously set up safe areas, like the Town Hall, the school, maybe a few other places. Then the Wardens see that their block of people get there safely. Last night we had a panic. The Wardens directing people should prevent that.”

Remus looked up from staring at his feet and nodded. “I like the idea.”

Harry looked at each person and received a nod in return. “Alright, it's agreed. Michael, that sounds like an excellent idea and I think I might have just the candidate to head up the effort. I'll speak with him today and tell him to contact you.”

O'Dalley nodded. Inwardly he was relieved to hear that he wasn't going to be in charge of this, as well. He had realized last night that his constables needed better training and he was already considering ways to accomplish that.

“Harry, about that orb Dumbledore threw at you last night?” Remus asked.

Harry frowned and nodded for Remus to continue.

“I had the twins look over the area where it hit. From what we could tell, the thing was charmed to explode if the orb came in contact with the ground, as you discovered. Had the orb hit you directly, you would have been bathed in liquid Imperio us.”

Remus paused as Hermione paled and gripped Harry's arm tightly. Amelia's only reaction was a tightening around her mouth.

“As you know, liquid Imperio us normally requires the victim to imbibe the potion. It can be absorbed through the skin, but at a much slower rate. What it would have accomplished would have been to make you highly suggestible for a short time. Oh, and the twins were highly excited by the idea of an exploding orb, it's like their flash bangs, but different. I think they'll have a working prototype in a few days,” Remus concluded with a bit of a grin.

Harry smiled as well. He, too, could see the value of a hand held explosive device.

“What about Dumbledore? Is there a connection between him and the attack that occurred just prior to your dueling with him, Harry?” Amelia asked.

Harry shook his head. “I am beginning to think that among Dumbledore's many qualities is a stroke of bad luck. I discovered he was in town last night just after the attack and went off like an idiot after Luna had drained me of most of my magic. He'd been in Haven for a while, from what I understand. I don't have all the details, but our duel was strictly a coincidence with the other attack. And probably the first attack as well.”

Amelia considered that for a moment. “Well, that's a bit of a relief, actually. The idea that Voldemort and Dumbledore might have become allies was rather frightening.”

“To all of us,” Hermione replied in agreement.

There was a minute of silence, then Amelia broke it. “I spoke with Mallory at the Irish Ministry this morning. They offered to provide additional Auror support, if needed.”

O'Dalley looked up from his notes. “I'd like to take them up on that offer for a week or two. I think I want to increase the training level among my constables and I want to see every one of them getting a course in field medicine.”

“I'll let them know we accept their offer then,” Amelia said, then she frowned slightly. “We've also had a request through Minister Mallory to procure a couple Angels for their Department of Mysteries to study.”

Harry scowled and turned to Hermione. “How many Angels do we have in Haven again?”

“Six of them,” Hermione replied.

Harry turned back to Amelia. “I don't think I'm willing to allow that to happen, Minister. Those Angels saved many lives last night. We owe them a debt of gratitude. Experiments in a lab are not the proper way of expressing it. I would be willing to allow several of their researchers to come to Haven to study the Angels, so long as they conduct their research under the auspices of our Beast Master, and that their research is not harmful to the Angels in any way.”

Remus rolled his eyes and started to laugh. Harry was setting up the Irish to work under Hagrid, who would see that no harm came to the Angels in Haven. Even Hermione couldn't resist the urge to laugh.

“I'll let them know about your generous offer, Harry,” Amelia replied with a smile.

The door to the office opened and Ginny stuck her head in. “Oops. I'm sorry, Harry. I didn't realize you were still busy,” she said.

Harry smiled at her. “Don't go, Ginny. I think we're done here now. Right?”

He looked around and everyone nodded as Amelia, O'Dalley and Remus stood up and walked to the door. Hermione made to stand, but Harry shook his head at her.

Remus, seeing the Weasleys, stopped at the door. He turned around to look at Harry. “Would you like me to stay as well, Harry?” he asked as he stepped aside and Ginny, Arthur and Charlie filed in.

“No thanks, Remus. I think we can handle this one,” Harry said with a reassuring smile.

Remus nodded and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Harry looked at the three Weasleys and his expression hardened. Then he leaned back in his chair and tried to run his hand through his hair, only to wince when he chose the wrong arm. Reaching out slowly, he pulled the casualty report closer.

“Do you know there are now over thirty six hundred adults and fifteen hundred children in Haven, Charlie?” Harry asked in a neutral tone.

Charlie blinked at the seemingly unrelated question. “N-N-No, I didn't,” he stammered in reply.

“Most of them are refugees from Britain, people who couldn't stand the Ministry or were working for the Ministry when it fell and managed to get lucky enough to fall in our nets. Some of them are family members of students. Healers, seamstresses, enchanters, clerks, shop keepers, mothers, sons and daughters, husbands and wives, all looking for a safe place for themselves and their families.”

Harry paused for a moment and stood up from his chair. He turned and walked slowly over to the window and gazed out towards Haven.

“I built this place in the hopes of trying to save something good from Britain. I dreamt of a place where people would once more be able to stand on their own two feet and be proud of it. We've set up a government, we've started planning to take back our homeland, but those people in that town over there still look to me to provide them with protection. I didn't ask for that responsibility, but there it is.”

He turned from the window then and glared at Charlie. “What gives you the right to put those people into jeopardy?” he snarled.

Charlie cringed back from Harry, who's eyes were aflame, back-lit by an unholy combination of sheer magical power and blazing anger.

“H-Harry, I'm sorry. I didn't intend for anyone to get hurt,” Charlie stammered.

Harry closed his eyes when he realized that his anger, while justified, would solve nothing. With a deep sigh, he let his anger bleed away. When he opened his eyes once again, they were calm, though penetrating. “Charlie, I need your family. Ginny is my sister in a way you'll never understand. Your father is one of Amelia's key people and I have learned to trust him once again. Bill has done wonders in the economic office and the twins have been contributing more to the war effort than anyone realizes. I can't afford to have them distracted by what I should rightfully do to you.

“Therefore, I am going to give you a choice. You can leave Haven, today, never to be welcome back within our wards, or you can join your family in helping our efforts. Be warned, however. No matter what it may do to your family and my relationship with them, if you break faith with me again, I will not spare you a second time.”

Arthur closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. Ginny watched, her face a mask, as Charlie hung his head.

“I don't deserve a second chance, Harry. I know that. But since you're offering one, I'd be foolish not to take it. I'll stay.”

He looked up at Harry then and their eyes locked. Charlie shivered under the younger man's gaze and tried to break away, but found himself trapped by it.

“Very well. This afternoon you will report to Michael O'Dalley, head of the Haven Constabulary, and inform him that you have been put in charge of the block Wardens, as well as seeing that appropriate shelters are built around the town. Last night we suffered a number of preventable injuries, especially among the children, due to the panic caused by the Dementors. While I don't believe we'll suffer another Dementor attack, the townspeople must be taught what to do in the event of an attack. That, Charlie, will be your job. You endangered the people of Haven. You'll pay for that by helping to make them safer,” Harry said.



* * *



Later that day in another part of the Manor...

Hermione paused in the corridor when she heard someone call her name. Peeking into one of the retiring rooms, she spotted Narcissa Black sitting on a small couch, enjoying a cup of tea.

“Hermione dear, please come in. I've meant to speak to you for a while now,” Narcissa said in a friendly tone.

While Narcissa and Emma had become close friends, Hermione hadn't had much contact with the older witch and she still harbored a little uneasiness concerning Narcissa's past.

“Tea?” Narcissa asked as she deftly poured a second cup of tea and offered it to her.

Hermione accepted the cup and sat in one of the arm chairs facing Narcissa.

Narcissa smiled. “Relax, my dear. I won't bite you. I've had some wonderful conversations with your mother. She is quite proud of you and your accomplishments.”

Hermione blushed slightly and mumbled something into her tea.

Narcissa laughed, then put her tea down and leaned forward, her expression turning very serious. “Hermione, considering your background, you've done really well for yourself.”

Hermione bristled at the implied insult about her background, but held her tongue when Narcissa held up her hand.

“No, dear, I don't mean your blood background. I've had enough of that silly tripe to last me a lifetime. No, what I mean is that you were raised in... what do the muggles call it? The middle class?”

Hermione's eyed widened in comprehension and she nodded. “Actually, being dentists, my parents were probably considered upper middle class or even lower upper class.”

Narcissa shook her head and refrained from commenting about the bizarre activities of Muggles. “My dear, in a few days time you will be the wife of Harry Potter. Or, to put it in more concise terms, you will be the wife of the last living heir of the Potter family, as well as the current head of the Black family.”

Hermione nodded, though her confusion was obvious when she looked at the older witch.

“You will be Lady Potter, or Lady Black, depending upon the occasion. Why, the social obligations of such a position are enough to overwhelm a person,” Narcissa said with a sigh.

Hermione stiffened slightly in her seat. She had looked forward to being Mrs. Potter, but she'd never made the connection between Lord Potter-Black and there being some unnamed Lady in the wings.

“I hardly think we'll have time for socializing, at least until Voldemort is defeated...”

“Oh, piff! Voldemort is merely a stepping stone for you two. With you by his side, your Harry would fight the Atlantic Ocean and probably win. No dear, I realize that the war will put a lot of things on hold. But what you need to understand is that you will have obligations not only to your husband, but to the families.”

Hermione frowned. “Are you talking about children?”

“Only partially. Having children to keep the family line alive is important. But so is making sure the family's prestige and reputations are upheld. I've watched you struggle for the past few days trying to learn how to cook. But let's be practical here, shall we? You have Dobby and Winky who will probably stay with you and Harry for the rest of their lives. You also have other house elves. Cooking is probably the last thing you need worry about. And finally, you have Harry, who, through no fault of his own, knows how to cook.”

“Are you implying I have to become some sort of social butterfly?” Hermione asked through gritted teeth.

Narcissa paused and gave the younger woman a look.

Hermione felt the urge to cringe back, but held her ground. She would never become some empty headed bimbo!

“No dear, what I am saying is that part of your job involves the politics of highly placed families. I know that you have a desire to promote the welfare of house elves. What you fail to realize is that, in a mere few days time, you will have the political clout to actually accomplish that desire.”

Hermione's expression altered slowly from disgust and anger to one of wonder. Seeing it, Narcissa smiled.

“Yes, dear. You will be Lady Potter, wife and confidant of the savior of the wizarding world and, eventually, the mother of his children. You will have the ability to influence his seats on the Wizengamot when it's reformed.”

“Wait,” Hermione said. “What do you mean?”

Narcissa smiled. “Harry hasn't told you that he holds two hereditary seats on the Wizengamot?”

Mute, Hermione could only shake her head.

“Don't be too harsh with him, dear. He probably doesn't know himself,” Narcissa said with a slight frown. She leaned back in her seat and her fingers drummed on the arm of the couch for a moment. “You know, I think I will need to speak to Remus. Both of you are woefully under-prepared for what will happen after the war is over. Remus has a sound financial mind, so he can stay on helping you manage the estates. But politics? That's a more personal game. Stabbing your enemy in the back, ruining them without killing them...”

When Narcissa's eyes glowed with remembered victories, Hermione frowned. The woman may no longer be a Malfoy, but she had been, and probably still thought of herself as a Slytherin. What she had learned from her house had enabled her to survive not just her marriage, but her dealings with Voldemort and his followers. She was a tough, formidable woman, and Hermione realized that there was much she could learn from her.

Narcissa shook her head and turned her gaze back to Hermione. Seeing her expression, she smiled.“I see you are beginning to understand. Good. Now, I am going to start by helping you and your mother understand what you need to know about politics. In a way, politics has a magic all of its own and it's very satisfying.”

“My mother?” Hermione asked, puzzled. Then her eyebrows furrowed in concentration and she nodded in understanding. With Granger Publications taking off and the prestige stemming from their own involvement in the war, the Grangers would be new money and a power unto themselves, and firmly allied to the Houses of Potter and Black.

Narcissa grinned. “Emma was right about you. You do understand. Now then, let me send for Emma and we can start with the basics...”



* * *



Haven Operations Center (July 22nd)...

Caleb looked up from the paper Miles had handed him and stared at Miles in consternation. “This came from the Muggles?” he asked incredulously.

Miles smiled tightly and nodded. “It actually came to us through the Canadian Ministry of Magic, but yes, it started with the Muggle Government in exile.”

Caleb scratched his head absently. “I don't know, Miles. Is this really important? I mean, we're in the middle of planning our first real operation and this will draw resources away from that.”

Miles frowned and looked over at the large wall map of Britain. “I know what it will do, Caleb, but this is important. The Muggles are concerned about this and it would be in our best interests to cooperate with them. We walk a very fine line here. The Ministry of Magic is fundamentally part of the Muggle Government, even if most of the Muggles don't know we exist. It's been that way since twelve hundred and eighty two. As such, we have to respond to these requests occasionally to ensure the Muggles cooperate with us when needed.”

Caleb nodded. He could understand what Miles was saying, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

Miles leaned back in his chair and watched his friend as he came to grips with the politics of the situation. Finally, Caleb relaxed and looked back at Miles.

“So, what can you give me?” asked Miles.

“When do you need them by?” Caleb asked, trying to stem the manpower loss.

“Tonight, tomorrow at the latest.”

Miles chuckled as the other man's jaw dropped.

Caleb shook his head, then muttered a quick incantation while waving his wand. A moment later, a piece of parchment appeared in his hand containing his complete roster of Aurors. Scanning his list, he scowled. “Most of the Canadians are still at the Irish training facility working on their Patronus charms. Surprisingly, the Americans picked it up very quickly. They don't have any need of it, but it seems to tickle their fancy. I heard about the block party they held the other day that had hundreds of glowing animals in attendance,” Caleb said with a strained smile. The Americans were a rowdy lot and often gave him a headache with their mannerisms and speech, but they generally were a reliable bunch of blokes.

Miles chuckled. He had heard about the block party and how the Americans had introduced the beer and fire whiskey chaser. It was said that the Hospital ran out of Sober-up potions the next day.

Caleb looked down at his list again and his expression brightened. “How many men do you think we need, Miles?”

“Two squads ought to take care of it. One for outer security and the other for the actual dirty work.”

“Quite so. So why don't we try the Yanks for this one? We could use a squad of our boys for security and one of the Yank squads?”

Miles grinned. “I like it. Have the boys assemble in the briefing theater at eighteen hundred.”

Caleb stood and nodded to Miles before walking from the office. He had orders to issue.



* * *



Strike Team Alpha, Maldon, England...

Maldon was once a sleepy little historic town on the coast of England. All that changed with fall of the Government and the take over by the military. Now days Maldon was a bustling army controlled town. People who had been caught by army patrols were brought to Maldon for processing. Some, having useful skills, were put to work. For the rest, it was the sprawling slave labor camp that had sprung up around the town.

Maldon was different from the surrounding communities for another reason. They had electricity. The military saw to that. The town had become a staging area for army forays into neighboring communities. Britain, as it currently existed, consisted of regions tightly controlled by the British Army, no-man lands and regions of total anarchy.

The high powered transmitter had been in operation for less than a month, but it's presence had been quickly noticed by the Muggle governments who were keeping an eye on the region. The broadcasts contained a mix of propaganda and coded messages, although it wasn't known who those messages were meant for. It's location within a population center, as well as being encircled by extensive anti-air defenses, made it a difficult target for the Muggle military to reach.

The transmitter was housed in a nondescript gray building on the end of Cromwell Lane. It was an unremarkable building, save for the one hundred foot tall radio antenna behind the building. The transmitter was the brain child of Lucius Malfoy, who had learned about the power of the media in controlling the masses long before the fall of the previous government. It also helped Lucius keep in contact with his ever expanding overseas network. The ward placed around Britain by Harry Potter might prevent Death Eaters from passing, but it did nothing to Muggles and, with the help of the British Army, Lucius had quickly built up an overseas spy network.

Nautical Twilight defines a time when the sun is below the horizon, but the sky is still lit by sunlight. It's effectively dark at ground level and becomes one of the most difficult conditions for the human eye to work in.

It was into this twilight that Strike Team Alpha arrived.

The team consisted of two squads under the over all command of Caleb Newman. Squad one was entirely American in makeup, and would be going for the primary target, the transmitter. Half of squad two would provide outer security for squad one, while the other half of squad two provided a diversion.

At the same time, over fifty house elves would begin a country wide magical diversion to distract the Death Eaters.

Caleb stumbled slightly as he arrived by portkey.

The team was in and not far from their primary target. The American squad leader, a short man named Arnold Blake, gave a low whistle and every one of his people immediately cast a spell on themselves. He then frowned and looked at Caleb. Gesturing, several of his men moved among the British Aurors casting the same spell, while the squad leader cast it on Caleb.

“It's a temperature nulling charm,” Blake whispered. “With it, you can't be spotted by the Muggle infra-red equipment.”

Caleb nodded at the man, but he made a mental note to get more information later about the charm and why it was necessary. Checking his watch he realized that, if everything had gone as planned, the elves would have started their diversion three minutes ago. That meant that the Death Eaters would be chasing ghosts all over the island right about now.

“Let's move out,” Caleb said to Blake.

Blake nodded and then made a series of hand gestures. Five men nodded and split off from the group, heading southeast towards the first diversionary target, the town generator farm.

Everyone waited tensely. It would take the second group a few minutes to make their way down to White Horse Lane and destroy the generators.

Caleb knelt not far from the primary target and watched the minute hand on his watch move at a snails pace. The generators were only a few blocks away, but getting there meant threading ones way undetected among hundreds of Muggle military.

The explosion, when it came, rocked the ground and Caleb nearly fell from his knees. Blake made a motion with his hand and his men moved forward just as the town plunged into darkness. Around them hand torches could be seen turning on and the shouts of alarm came from several directions. In the distance, a siren wailed.

To the southwest Caleb could see a fireball rising over the buildings as the fuel for the generators exploded in their fifty gallon drums. He grinned seeing one drum hurtling high into the sky like a rocket. Secondary explosions began as the fire spread from the fuel depot to a nearby ammunition depot.

Caleb turned away from the carnage to the south just in time to see Blake running back towards him. Blake skidded to a halt and crouched down.

“The building is ready and I have two men prepared to take down the antenna.”

“Do it then, Sergeant. I'd like to get us all home tonight,” Caleb replied with a grin. He was impressed by how quickly the Americans worked.

Blake gave a low whistle. There was a pause, and then the building simply imploded silently, causing Caleb to look questioningly at Blake. The explosion should have been near deafening. When Blake merely smiled and turned back to watch his men, Caleb looked at the building once more.

One moment it had been a gray, two story brick structure, the next moment it was a pile of rubble. There hadn't even been so much as a cloud of smoke to mark its destruction. Caleb noted the antenna and mast seemed to wobble from side to side before tilting to the north and coming down into the nearby river.

Blake whistled again and his men started to appear, returning from the target site. So far, no one had noticed what had happened to the radio station. All Muggle attention was on containing the fire sweeping through the supply depots.

Caleb did a quick head count, then he pulled out his flare gun and fired a single green star shell into the air, signaling to the distraction team to use their portkeys. With a nod to Blake, he grabbed his own portkey and left the area, arriving in the Operations Center a moment later.

Miles stood nearby taking a head count as the men arrived. He finished two minutes later and smiled in relief, having accounted for all personnel involved in the field operation and noting the lack of injuries.

“You can tell the Prime Minister that that radio station is now off the air for good,” Caleb said as he approached Miles. “The Yanks were even better than I expected.”

“Thank you, Commander,” Blake said, coming up behind Caleb. “I'll take that as a compliment.”

Caleb grinned at Blake. “You should. Get your boys debriefed and fed, Sergeant. Pass along my compliment and tell them it was well done.”

Blake nodded and moved off to collect his men, while Caleb and Miles watched.

“That's how I like a mission, Caleb, in and out quickly with no casualties. Pity they all can't be that way,” Miles said softly.

“True enough, Miles, true enough,” Caleb said tiredly. It hadn't been a long mission, it hadn't even been a strenuous mission as far as he was concerned. But the tension was tiring enough. All Caleb wanted now was to relax with a pint and his wife in his arms.



* * *



Padfoot Manor (July 25th)...

Harry stood with Luna, Eocho and Hermione out behind the manor. He had finished making the rune stones a while ago and now they were testing them.

“I think we should try something simple, like a light shield to begin with,” Eocho offered.

Luna nodded and pulled four rune stones from a nearby table. She walked about twenty feet away and placed the stones down on the ground.

“Tiwaz, Raidho, Isa and Gebo in a cross shape, with Isa facing north,” she mumbled to herself. With the last stone in place, a glowing silver dome sprang up over her. She stood smiling and looked at Eocho, Harry and Hermione expectantly.

“Since these are stones made by the Maglios, we know they will be very powerful,” Eocho said softly, then he turned to Hermione. “My daughter, aim a spell to hit her shield. Spare no power.”

Hermione blinked in surprise and looked shocked, but Luna smiled at her encouragingly.

Hermione raised her wand. “Reducto !” she shouted.

The explosive hex arced out from her wand and splashed harmlessly against the shield. Luna smiled and, reaching down, broke up the stone configuration, causing the shield to collapse.

“Well, it obviously works like we thought it would,” Hermione said as Luna approached.

Harry scowled and crossed his arms, his expression tight.

“Something displeases you, Maglios?” Eocho asked, floating over to him.

Harry gestured in the general direction of where Luna had stood. “This is all well and good, but there are over a hundred rune stones in a set. People won't have time to sort through various stones to pick out what they need, then remember the precise configuration while in combat. This just isn't practical.”

Hermione placed a calming hand on Harry's arm. “One step at a time, love. First we see what we can do with the stones. Then we work on making it practical.”

Harry sighed and wiped a hand over his face. “Alright, but right now the only good I see for these toys are static defenses and rituals. We need a way of setting up a shield using the stones that's as fast as doing it with a wand, otherwise it's of no use.”

Harry turned and walked back to the manor, his shoulders slumped.

Hermione frowned. She had been very pleased with the results of this test and wished that Harry could see the potential. She moved to follow him, but Luna stopped her.

“He's not really angry at you or upset about the stones, Hermione,” said the blond girl.

“Oh? Then what's his problem then?” asked Hermione, slightly miffed. She still hadn't fully forgiven Luna for what she had done to Harry during the Dementor attack.

“He's just feeling down. Between the attack last week and the responsibilities he carries, it's making him anxious and worried. He thought that the stones might play a pivotal role in his fight with Riddle, but is coming to realize that they won't. He worries because he hasn't figured out how to kill Riddle yet,” Luna said, then she paused a moment.

Eocho, listening to Luna talk to Hermione, was startled. He and Harry had been working on that problem, but had not divulged their progress to anyone.

“He's just anxious, Hermione. He's looking for an answer and failing to see it,” Luna finished softly.

Hermione looked at Harry's retreating back for a moment longer, then turned back to Luna. “Do you know what the answer is?”

Luna nodded in Harry's direction. “No, but he does. It's inside of him, part of him, and always has been. I'm not sure he'll ever see it for what it is until he needs it.”

Seeing Hermione's look of surprise, Luna smiled. “Go to him, Hermione. He needs you now and he's particularly vulnerable to Two Toed Flair Snipers at the moment.”

Eocho waved to Hermione, motioning her to go and she turned to follow Harry as Eocho floated over to join Luna.

“You see much, my daughter,” Eocho murmured.

She turned and smile at him. “I see what I see, Honored Teacher. The miracle Harry searches for is right under his nose and he'll never see it for what it is. When the time comes, it will blossom and still he won't see it for what it is. In the meantime, he will continue to seek it,” Luna replied.

“I suspected as much, but could not tell him. Will he ever recognize it?” Eocho asked.

Luna shrugged. “I don't know. Anyone who's been around him for any length of time can see it, though they don't understand its importance. Even he sees it. But while you and I recognize it for what it is, he does not.

Eocho nodded thoughtfully. “So what will you do with the Rune Stones?”

“Turn them over to the Weasley Twins, I think,” Luna offered.

“I'll suggest that to Hermione then,” Eocho said with a grin.



* * *



Johansen Farm, Haven (July 25th)...

Harry stopped to look over the two Angels hovering over the farmhouse. At night they could be clearly seen and their glowing white light was a comfort to those who saw it. During the day, however, the Angels were nearly transparent.

Now, for the first time since the attack a week ago, he was able to really look at them. He and a few others were on their way to visit with the Johansens and they had stopped after spotting the two Angels that had taken up residence near the farm.

“They are quite pretty, aren't they?” he murmured.

“It's strange. They have an uplifting effect on everyone around them. It's almost like they exude a natural cheering charm,” Remus offered quietly.

“Are they sentient? Like centaurs and elves?” asked Hermione as she watched one Angel hovering nearby.

Remus frowned. “We're not really sure, Hermione. We know that Dementors seem to have a form of sentience about them, although it's fairly primitive. Luna says they are, but they are still babies and haven't developed any language skills as yet. Hagrid isn't sure and, because they don't appear to be dangerous, I don't think he's all that interested in them.”

“Does it matter? I don't know about anyone else, but I like them,” Tonks offered. “They make me feel good and I get a warm feeling being around them. It's like knowing that someone loves you.”

The others turned to Tonks, who had the grace to blush.

Harry watched one Angel float in their direction. He lifted up a hand towards it and it hovered closer.

“It's like it's made of glass,” he whispered when the Angel brushed up against his hand with one wing.

The Angel's face was transparent like the rest of its body, but they could clearly make out the smile on its face. The Angel reached out and touched Harry's hand with one of its paws. There was a brief flash of light and then the Angel flew high into the sky above them before swooping down to hover over the farmhouse again.

Harry shivered and felt himself slip into a memory. He watched himself playing the tin whistle for Hermione in the Room of Requirement.

“Harry?” Hermione asked in concern. “Are you alright?”

Harry smiled at her, his expression filled with a childlike wonder. “I'm fine, really. I think Luna said it best when she called them anti-Dementors. They are everything a Dementor isn't. He touched me and for a brief instant I was back in the Room of Requirement, playing the tin whistle for you and giving you the music box for your birthday.”

Remus and Tonks shared a look.

“I've often wondered how well that gift was received,” Tonks said, grinning slyly when Hermione blushed.

Harry laughed and grabbed Hermione's hand. “Let's get over to the Johansens? We could stand here all night talking about that gift and other things.”

A few minutes later they were ushered into the kitchen of the Johansen household. Harry and Remus were told that Sven was working in one of the barns and they went in search of him, while Hermione and Tonks stayed with Olga and talked about the wedding plans.

Harry stepped into the cool interior of the darkened barn. In one corner he could make out a figure hunched over a foot powered sharpening stone. Sven methodically moved the blades of a pair of shears over the stone. Sparks flew from the stone, casting little flashes of light in that corner.

Remus coughed to catch Sven's attention and he looked up. Spotting Harry and Remus, he broke into a grin and stopped pumping the sharpener.

“Mr. Lupin, Mr. Potter! What a surprise!” he exclaimed, then he stood and grabbed several stools, which he passed to Remus and Harry.

Sitting on a milking stool he eyed the other two men, then he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his pipe. “So, then,” he said, lighting his pipe. “What brings you two gentlemen to my little farm?”

Harry and Remus exchanged a look, then Remus began to speak. “Sven, I don't know if you've heard that they're thinking about holding some elections in town.”

“Oh, ya, I heard about it. Mayor and Deputy Mayor. Foolish business, if you ask me,” Sven said.

Remus looked at Harry.

“I'm sorry you feel that way, Sven. The truth is, we came here to ask if you'd run for one of those positions,” Harry told him, looking embarrassed.

Sven stared at Harry in surprise.

“I know it's a shock,” Harry said, “but look at it from my perspective for a moment. Both of these positions are largely ceremonial and really have little power within the framework of the Government. But you and your wife have done so much to make people reconsider their position on Muggles. You, as Mayor, would take that to another level. We are a divided people, Sven, Muggles and Wizards. You and your wife have shown people that the distinction isn't important. Now we need to make it more obvious.”

Sven looked at Harry for a long moment as he puffed on his pipe furiously. “This job, would it take much time from my farm?” he asked quietly.

Remus chuckled. “A Mayor of a Wizarding town isn't like a Mayor of a Muggle town, Sven. It's largely a ceremonial position. You'd be there to officiate at banquets, or to attend opening ceremonies. The real power still lies with the Government. As to the number of hours it needs? Well, some people make it a full time job, but most only spend an hour or two a week on it.”

Sven frowned and stared at the ground for a moment. “How long a term does the Mayor serve?”

“Usually it's a two year term,” Remus told him hopefully. He really wanted Sven to agree to this.

“Two years and then I can quit? You promise?” Sven asked. He felt he owed a very large debt to the two men before him. If he could repay them a little by doing this, then he would.

“You can quit earlier if you want, but we wouldn't ask you if we didn't need you,” Harry replied in a serious tone.

Sven stood and paced around for a few moments, then he calmly straightened a few tools hanging from the wall. Finally, he turned back to Harry and Remus who were waiting anxiously for some sort of response.

“This is too big a decision for me to make alone. I need to talk to Olga before I decide,” he declared.

Harry relaxed a bit. It wasn't an outright refusal. “We understand, Sven, but I hope you'll agree. We could use your help in this.”

Sven nodded, then grinned at the two men. “Come, let us go surprise Mama and see if she wants to be a Mayor's wife. Even if she doesn't, I know she has fresh strudel waiting.”

Laughing, Harry and Remus stood up and followed Sven from the barn.



* * *



Padfoot Manor (July 31st)...

A gentle breeze swept over Harry and the bed rocked softly in the morning sunlight.

The birds seem awful loud this morning, he thought fuzzily.

He was tired and wanted to sleep in, so he rolled over and pulled the lightweight blanket up around him. The rolling caused his bed to rock noticeably. Hermione had made a big deal about it being their last night together before the wedding and she had been insatiable. Harry had been thrilled with her last night, but he was justifiably tired when they finally drifted off to sleep.

Nearby, a Bluejay started to caw loudly and Harry pulled his pillow over his head for a moment. When that failed to help, he sat up and rolled out of the bed without bothering to open his eyes first.

That was a mistake, he realized, when he found himself sinking to the bottom of the pool. When his feet touched the bottom he pushed off with his toes, adding a bit of magic for a boost. In short order he was standing on the edge of the pool, dripping wet and more than just a little put out.

He stood for a moment, blinking in the bright sunshine and wondering just which of his friends was responsible for his unscheduled morning swim, when his concentration was broken by three dancing pigs. The pigs pranced and danced around him, singing a merry little birthday song, and his eyes narrowed.

“Fred, George and Ginny,” he growled, then vanished from the poolside, leaving the three pigs still singing.

In the bedroom, Harry wasn't surprised to see that his bed was right were it was supposed to be. Nor was he surprised to find Hermione gently snoring under the blankets. The Weasleys had obviously transported him from his bed without waking her.

He cast a few detection charms, picking up Ginny and Fred's signatures and noted that Hermione was under a deep sleep charm, but it was wearing off. Harry grinned and then dressed quietly. He had work to do.

“Good morning, Remus. Coffee?” Harry asked nearly an hour later.

“Morning, Harry. Happy Birthday!” Remus said with a smile.

Remus reached for a platter of bacon as Hermione walked into the room. Both men turned to greet her when a scream came from one of the upper floors. Remus had bolted to his feet before he noticed that Harry was calmly sipping his coffee.

“What did you do, Harry?” Hermione asked suspiciously.

He shrugged as another scream came from upstairs.

Dobby appeared, pulling on his ears nervously. “Master Harry Potter, sir. Dobby did as you asked. Now littlest wheezy is very angry!”

“Don't worry, Dobby, she doesn't know that you're involved. Besides, all you did was hold them in place while I charmed the beds,” Harry said with a smile. Then he turned to Hermione. “I didn't to anything too elaborate,” he said, wincing slightly at the scream coming from upstairs. “I'm just getting payback for the birthday prank the Weasley's played on me this morning.”

“So what's causing Ginny to scream like that?” Remus asked.

Harry buffed his nails. “Oh, nothing too bad. I just charmed her bed to do everything in it's power to keep her from getting out. The twins will find themselves in a much more precarious position though, as their mattresses will be quite.... amorous.”

Remus started laughing loudly. Hermione shook her head and grinned at the thought of someone getting one over on the twins.

Neville stepped into the dinning room and looked at Harry darkly. “I hope you don't plan on pranking us through the honeymoon!”

Harry laughed. “If any pranks happen on your honeymoon, they won't be from me. But that's right up the twins' alley, so you might want to be careful there, mate! Besides, the problem Ginny's currently having with her mattress is simple payback for my unexpected trip to the pool this morning.”

Neville relaxed a bit, then speared a sausage off the platter and hurriedly left the room to go rescue is bride to be.

Harry smiled and reached for another piece of toast as Ginny screamed again from her bedroom upstairs.



* * *



Hogwarts Castle (Later that same day)...

Voldemort stepped over the smoking corpse of his Death Eater and left the ritual circle.

Severus Snape looked at him fearfully from a corner of the room. Hiding just behind Snape was the girl Voldemort had given him several weeks ago.

The Dark Lord reached for the small crystal orb sitting on a bench and smiled when it lit up, then he toed the corpse with his foot. “Have someone get rid of this trash,” he said in a low growl.

Stretching out his hand, he could see a flickering glow about it. “You were right, Severus,” Voldemort said, his eyes boring into the man. “Taking Alderman after he had undergone the ritual twice has given me more power than just taking a single wizard's magic. Yes, this will work well. This way I can get around some of the limits of the ritual.”

Voldemort lifted up the crystal orb in one gaunt hand and the light from it filled the small potions lab and ritual chamber.

“Tell me, Severus. How many batches of potion do you have ready?” Voldemort asked in a hissing whisper.

“Only twenty, my lord. As you know, the potion does not have a long shelf life, but I have four cauldrons always brewing the potion,” Snape stammered.

“Excellent. Excellent work, indeed. Let me reward you for your fine work. CRUCIO!”

Snape pitched to his knees moaning in pain, then he started to scream as he writhed on the floor. A minute later Voldemort released him from the curse and stared at him.

“Never forget your place, Severus. You live and die by my will alone,” Voldemort sneered. “You never were very good as a spy, did you know that Severus? Dumbledore used you. I used you. The only person who didn't use you was Potter. Hmm. Potter... I wonder...”



* * *



Padfoot Manor...

Remus, Hermione and Neville watched in amusement as Ginny backed Harry into a corner.

“You listen to me, Harry James Potter. I don't care if I did help the twins prank you today, that was no reason for you to sneak into my bedroom and charm my bed to keep me from leaving it,” she shouted.

“First the sheets held me down, then the mattress folded itself in half, pinning me in,” she yelled, then she went for her wand.

Remus and Neville rushed forward and pulled her away from Harry.

“Let me... I just want to... one hex...” she said, while wrestling Neville for her wand.

Harry sighed and relaxed. He knew Ginny would understand that it was just payback for their birthday prank and would eventually calm down. She might even calm down this year , he though, wincing as he watched her jerk violently on Neville's arm.

He inhaled sharply as a long forgotten pain rippled across his forehead. Lights danced in front of his eyes and he clearly heard a voice in his mind.

“Happy Birthday, Potter,” Voldemort said with a laugh.

Harry pressed the heel of his palm against his scar and he slid to the floor. He had been lax in performing Occlumency and his shields had eroded without his noticing. Now he was paying the price for that oversight. He moaned and frantically rebuilt his shields while waves of pain washed over him.

The others in the room fell silent as they realized that something was very wrong with Harry.

Harry grabbed at the channel Voldemort was using just as the Dark Lord pushed another wave of pain at him. A scream tore from his throat and blood started to seep from his scar. Harry writhed for a moment, then he threw all his power into forcing Voldemort out. He pushed his way down the channel, forcing his consciousness into Voldemort's.

Hermione knelt next to Harry, trying to keep him from hurting himself, while Ginny ran to get help. Suddenly Harry's body exploded in light. He reached up with a single hand and twisted it sharply like he was turning a door knob.

“Enjoy the pain, Tom,” Harry snarled and the windows in the room exploded outwards. There was a huge cracking sound like a burst of thunder directly overhead.

Everyone in the room ducked and winced at the painfully loud sound. Recovering, they looked at Harry, concerned. He was still on the floor, but he was breathing heavily and his scar was bleeding slightly.

“Harry?” Hermione said softly.

“I'm alright,” he replied in a voice barely above a whisper. “It was just Voldemort trying to get through my shields.”

“And he nearly succeeded, did he not?” came a familiar voice.

“Yes, Honored Teacher. I haven't been keeping up with my Occlumency exercises of late,” he said in resignation. He knew he was about to receive a lecture.

“Harry didn't you occlude your mind last night?” Hermione asked, then she blushed realizing that she was the reason why he hadn't.

Harry looked at her and smiled gently. “It's alright, Hermione. No real harm's been done and I think old Moldy Warts probably has a bigger headache than I do at the moment. I pushed him out and gave him a taste of his own medicine,” he said, then he sat up unsteadily. He winced when he saw the blood on his hand and gingerly touched his scar.

Eocho stared hard at Harry. “I think it would be best if we work on your occluding this afternoon, Maglios. You have let that slide too often.”

Harry nodded, chagrined that he had let something important slide like that. Then it dawned on him. “Wait a moment,” he said, placing both hands to his head. “Voldemort's stronger! When I attacked back, I was in his mind. I saw him going through the ritual. I saw... Oh, Merlin! He's killing wizards who have already taken part in the ritual!” he said with a gasp. His head was pounding so hard he thought his skull would split.

The door opened and Emma stepped in, carrying a small bottle. She gave it to Harry, then looked at him with concerned.

“That must be how he intends to overcome the limitations of the ritual,” mused Remus.

“I think this was just a test case, Remus. It seemed like he only picked up the power of two or three wizards,” Harry said. Tipping up the bottle Emma had brought, he drank the potion, then grimaced at the foul taste.

“Well, he's still limited in the time factor. He can only do one ritual every two weeks,” Hermione offered.

“Yes, and now we can see how he'll overcome the limits to make himself as strong as Harry,” Dan replied.

When Harry stood and began to sway on his feet, Hermione steadied him. “Will you be alright? Maybe you should lay down?”

He smiled. “I'll be fine. The potion's already starting to work. I think I'll spend the afternoon meditating and working on my Occlumency shields.”



* * *



Hogwarts Castle...

The group of eight Death Eaters looked at the prone form of Voldemort on the floor with uncertainty. He had been sitting in his throne listening to their reports, when a voice said, “Enjoy the pain, Tom!” It was followed by a sound so loud it blew out every window in the castle.

Now, just a few seconds after the windows had exploded, Voldemort lay unconscious on the floor, barely breathing and his faithful minions didn't know what to do about it. Ordinarily it was death to touch him, and yet clearly he'd have to be moved to a bed.

“Should we move him?” asked one Death Eater.

“No. Send for Malfoy,” another replied with a sneer. “He's the Dark Lord's favorite, so let him risk the Master's displeasure at being touched.”

Several Death Eaters nodded in agreement. In the meantime, the Dark Lord could remain on the stone floor.



* * *



Preparations (August 1st)...

Eocho checked the position of the sun, then looked over the grounds. He had cast the circle in a wooded glen near the memorial lake, using crystals and protective runes. Assuring himself that everything was in place, he hovered nearby for a time, reflecting on what would soon take place there.

The ceremony was deeply meaningful for those who believed. It was not as elaborate as many Christian services, or as involved as Neo-Pagan ceremonies, but it was ancient. It predated the Christian horde by thousands of years and Eocho was honored that the newest members of the Brotherhood had asked him to perform it. He knew the Seeress, Hermione, had some problems with some of the Brotherhood's tenets, but was proud of her tolerance, something the people of his time had lacked. He saw a Christian ceremony in her future with the Maglios, but he was not insulted by it. He was happy to see that Harry himself seemed to accept that part of her, though he did not share her beliefs. At least, not yet.

With a gentle shake of his head, he rose up to the treetops and, with one last look at the ceremonial grounds, disappeared.



* * *



The Women...

With the use of obscuring charms, the young women made their way to the grounds. Most of the townsfolk were unaware that a ceremony would shortly take place, and the obscuring charms were cast to make sure of it. It had been decided that with Eocho performing the ceremony, the guest list would be restricted to only those who knew of him and his connection with the Brotherhood.

They were escorted to the grounds by Emma, Olga, Minerva, Narcissa, Amelia and Constance. The last minute addition of Jenny Boot, Terry's mother, had been agreed upon by all. While she did not know Eocho well, she had been at the meeting when he had explained the need for handfasting.

Once in the woods, they made their way towards the glen. The women of the escort, dressed in cloaks and gowns of brightest white, stopped the party before reaching the circle. While still screened by trees, the group made last minute adjustments to their clothing.

Cloaks were removed and gowns were brushed of imaginary lint. Narcissa reached into the pocket of the cloak she'd just removed and took out a chest the size of a teacup. Setting it on the ground, she removed the shrinking charm with a flick of her wand. As she opened the chest, the other women of the escort lined up the brides and waited for her signal.

Looking up, Narcissa smiled at the young women before her, then motioned the first one forward.

Hermione, dressed in a gown of deepest red, symbolizing the fire and creative spirit of love, moved towards the blond, her expression calm. She stopped, then curtsied and bowed her head, acknowledging Narcissa's position as the highest ranking female of the family she was preparing to pledge herself to.

Narcissa nodded, then reached into the trunk and removed the wreath Hermione had created for the ceremony. Ivy for fidelity and cedar branches for strength were woven together with Myrtle flowers for love, fern fronds for honesty and oak leaves for bravery, creating a wreath that symbolized what Hermione saw as Harry's finest qualities.

Receiving the wreath from Narcissa, Hermione curtsied once more, then stepped aside and waited.

Luna was next. Dressed in a gown of emerald green to symbolize life, harmony and nature, she, too, curtsied, acknowledging Narcissa's position in the Black family.

Narcissa removed the wreath Luna had created for Draco, then smiled with real pleasure at her future daughter-in-law as she passed it over.

Taking the wreath, Luna curtsied once more, then joined Hermione. Narcissa turned to the next member of the escort, Constance Longbottom. Seeing that Constance was ready, she walked towards Hermione and Luna. Standing between them, she touched each young woman's cheek softly. Then, with a slight signal of her hand, the three began to walk towards the glen and the people who awaited their arrival.

Constance turned to the next young woman in line and smiled as Ginny Weasley approached, dressed in an gown the color of indigo, which symbolized intuition. When the flame-haired witch curtsied and bowed her head, Constance raised a wreath from the chest and, rather than passing it to the young bride, stepped around the trunk and kissed the newest member of her family on the cheek.

“There can be no more suitable a bride for my grandson. There had been little happiness in his life until you became a part of it. With your love and guidance, he has grown and flourished into a fine young wizard. I am proud to call you granddaughter,” she whispered, passing the wreath to the younger woman.

Ginny curtsied again. “Your welcome means more than you can know, Mrs. Longbottom. For the first time in many months, my family is growing. I am so tired of losing the ones I love,” she said, as silent tears slid down her cheeks.

Taking Ginny's hand, Constance smiled. “All wars end, child. This one will too. Your strength will remain as long as you hold on to your faith and the love of your family. But today is not a day for mourning or sadness. Today we celebrate life!”

With a small tug of Ginny's hand, Constance drew her towards the glen and the people waiting for them, leaving the next member of the escort to step forward.

Minerva, standing in for Remus' mother who had been killed in the first war, moved to the trunk and waited. Tonks, dressed in a gown the color of turquoise to symbolize protection, health, confidence and strength, approached the older witch and curtsied. Smiling, Minerva removed the wreath from the trunk and gave it to the blond woman before her. With a final curtsy, the two moved off towards the glen, and the people waiting for them.

Jenny Boot stepped forward and smiled as Susan approached her. With a curtsy, Susan, dressed in a golden colored gown to symbolize wisdom, took the wreath Jenny offered, then dipped her knees once more and bowed her head.

Taking the young witch's hand, Jenny raised her up and the two walked towards the glen, and the people waiting for them.

Amelia shrunk the trunk and placed it in the pocket of Narcissa's cloak. Olga gathered the other cloaks and passed them to the witch, who sent them to the manor where they could be retrieved later if they were needed. The two looked around the area and, with a few flicks of her wand, Amelia erased the small traces of their passage through the wood, leaving it the way nature made it.

With a look, the two remaining members of the escort linked hands and walked towards the clearing, and the people waiting for them.



* * *



The Men...

In a tent set in the woods on the far side of the glen, Harry paced. He was aware of the amused gazes of the other men in the tent, but didn't acknowledge them. He was nervous and didn't really care who knew it. He would have been glad to know, however, that those watching understood. They all felt the same thing, though to a lesser degree.

While Harry's nervousness was obvious in his pacing, the others were lounging on the plush rugs and pillows strewn around the floor. The wreathes each had made for his bride were on a table next to the tent entrance. Neville and Bertrand were reading, while Draco, Remus, Arthur and Dan were discussing Haven business. Terry and his father John were playing a game of chess while Bill and Sven watched.

The men getting married stood out from the other men in the small tent as they all wore shimmering silver robes. Those who made up the escort, Dan, John, Arthur, Bertrand, Bill and Sven, wore white.

When a small bell chimed in the tent, the men all flinched slightly, and the sound of ghostly laughter was heard.

“Be brave, my children,” Eocho said as he appeared in the tent, his eyes dancing. “Your futures approach the glen.”

Draco launched a pillow at his teacher and scowled when it sailed right through him.

“Temper, temper,” Eocho chastised gently, laughter still evident in his voice.

“Alright, let's get this over with,” Harry said. He squared his shoulders, picked up his wreath and faced the tent entrance.

Dan laughed as he walked towards the younger man. “Now, Harry, if Hermione heard you say that, she'd skin you alive.”

“Yeah, well, she's not here, is she?” he asked, glowering at Dan. “Why did we have to do this in front of a bunch of people? A private ceremony would have worked just as well.”

“You know everyone here, Harry,” Remus told him as he brushed the wrinkles out of his robe. “There's nothing to be nervous about.”

Harry glared when Remus started brushing the wrinkles out of his robe as well. “I'm fully capable of taking care of my own clothing, thank you,” he said as he pulled away from the older man and tugged his robe straight. “The next time we do this, we're eloping!”

“Are you planning on having more than one wife, then?” Draco asked as he stood up. “I'm sure Granger will just love that.”

“I wouldn't tell Hermione that until after the honeymoon,” Neville suggested as he, too, climbed to his feet.

“Not if you want to have a honeymoon,” Bill pointed out.

Harry raised his eyes to the roof of the tent, begging for patience from anyone who might hear his plea.

“Why ask for something you already have, Maglios?” Eocho asked curiously.

“Don't you have a job to do or something?” Harry asked him.

“Enough. Leave Harry alone,” Arthur said. “If you keep on him, we'll never get you lot married and I am not up for dealing with five angry brides-to-be! Now, line up and let's...what was it you said, Harry? Oh, yes. Let's get this over with.”

Harry and Remus stood at the front of the line, with Dan between them. Next came Draco with Bertrand beside him, then Neville with Arthur as his escort, and finally Terry, with his father.

The tent flap was opened as Eocho faded from sight and the procession started. Bill and Sven were the last to exit, and they paused after stepping out into the sunlight. Sven checked the surrounding area for any belongings they may have left behind, while Bill sent the tent back to the manor, and erased all traces of their presence from the area, leaving it the way nature made it.



* * *



Handfasting...

With a few quick strides, Bill and Sven caught up with the procession and entered the circle. While the others continued on to the altar at the center, Bill and Sven each stood to one side of the opening in the circle, waiting.

A few minutes later, the ladies appeared from the woods and walked to the circle's opening, heads bowed in reverence. As Hermione, Narcissa and Luna crossed into the circle together, their heads came up proudly and they walked towards the altar at a stately pace.

Once each young woman and her escort passed into the circle, Amelia moved to stand next to Sven, while Olga stood with Bill. With everyone in position, the guests were finally free to pass through, though there weren't many. The Weasley and Johansen twins entered together, followed by Johan, Flitwick, Miles and Danni.

Once the guest were through, Bill, Olga, Sven and Amelia turned as one and either bowed or curtsied to each of cardinal directions, beginning with the east, the direction of the rising sun and the symbol of rebirth and new beginnings. Then Bill and Amelia drew their wands and, working together, closed the circle. Once done, all four turned to face those now standing at the altar.

“Come forth, Guardians, and join us. Nothing can break the circle, once closed,” Eocho stated.

Together the four approached the altar and stood behind the couples and their escorts. When they were in place, Eocho looked at the people before him, nodded once and began.

“May the peace and safety of this circle and those within it be blessed by the Gods, for we are all gathered here in a ritual of love, with those who would be wedded,” he said, his voice rich and vibrant.

“I call upon the beings of Air and Fire, Earth and Water, to bless those who stand within this circle. Lend of them your constancy and courage, your protection and wisdom, your love of life, passion and laughter, your faith and hope everlasting, that they may be strengthened in the conflict to come. Raise them up, oh Gods of old, and embrace them as your children as they fight to save this world.”

Eocho waved one hand over the altar and a small, contained, but extremely hot fire sprung up and burned merrily with blue-white flames. Reaching beneath the top of the altar, he came up a moment later with several items, which he kept carefully hidden from view.

“To Earth, the embodiment of strength and constancy, we give this gift of silver, taken from your breast and rendered beautiful,” he said, holding the bracelet up for all to see, then dropping it into the flames, were it melted quickly.

“To Air, the embodiment of wisdom and protection, we give this gift of White Mulberry, wild grown, yet shelter to all who seek its branches.” Eocho held up several small twigs from a Mulberry tree, then dropped them into the flames.

“To Fire, the embodiment of passion and love, we give this gift of Jasmine, grown with patient care and sacrificed in your honor.” Dropping the small flowers into the fire, the witnesses watched them char and turn black.

Eocho held up the last remaining item so that it caught the rays of the sun. The flash of light was dazzling as a small golden torque was displayed.

“To Water, the embodiment of the soul, we give this gift of ancient gold, summoned from the secret stashes of your people, that you may once again know us and, though our ways may now be different, know the purity of our spirit and of our purpose.”

The golden torque, once dropped into the flames, melted, just as the silver bracelet that proceeded it. Eocho waited a moment, then spread his arms wide, palms up, in a welcoming gesture.

“Here our prayers, know our hopes, feel our faith. We await your blessings.”

Nothing happened for a moment and several people shifted awkwardly. Then the fire went out.

As the smoke spiraled skyward, forms could be seen dancing with it, twisting and whirling. A breeze began to blow and upon it were voices, unintelligible to be sure, but they brought with them a feeling of peace and tranquility to those within the circle.

A sigh went through those gathered in the glen and Eocho smiled gently before addressing them once more.

“Today we are gathered in the presence of the Gods not only to receive their blessings for our great task, but also to witness the joining of the couples before us. Handfasting is an ancient rite, a sacred rite, and not entered into lightly. It is the binding of two lives, the creation of one soul, in the joyful hope of being so bound for eternity.

“As most here know, the handfasting ceremony signifies that two people have agreed to live as man and wife for the time of one year and one day. At the end of that time, the couple may sever their connection to one another. If they choose to remain together, however, the binding is permanent and nothing, not even the Gods, may separate them, for this ritual has not just the weight of mortal law, but of celestial law as well.”

Eocho paused for a moment, letting those gathered absorb the seriousness of his words. Then, with a slight gesture, he indicated that the first couple should come forward.

Harry, with Dan beside him, and Hermione, with Narcissa next to her, stepped in front of the altar and bowed their heads. Then, in their duties as escorts, Dan and Narcissa took the wreaths from their charges and took one step back.

Eocho's expression became stern as he addressed the couple before him. “Harry James Potter and Hermione Jane Granger, do you come before this gathering of mortal and immortal to bind yourselves, one to the other, in joy and love, and with the understanding that you will never again be alone in this world or any other?”

“We do.”

Eocho turned to Dan and Narcissa and held out his hands. “The wreaths,” he demanded.

The escort stepped forward and placed the wreaths on the ancient priest's hands. Then, bowing their heads once more, returned to their places behind the bride and groom.

Turning to address the gathering, Eocho raised his voice to be heard by all. “In times past, wreaths such as these held the same meaning as the rings many of the couples have already exchanged. The shape, a circle, symbolizes the everlasting. In the binding of these two souls, there is no beginning and no end. There is no 'mine' or 'yours'. There is only wholeness, only one. There is only eternity.

“These wreaths were made, one for the other, before this ceremony. In that way, the individual, the essence of the one, is also present here today.

“In Hermione's wreath we see Myrtle flowers and Cedar, Fern, Ivy and Oak. By this we know that she sees in Harry his love and strength, his honesty, fidelity and bravery.”

Eocho turned to Hermione and held out her wreath. She curtsied deeply before taking it from him.

Holding up the other wreath, Eocho raised his voice once again. “In Harry's wreath we see Amaryllis and blue violet flowers, Birch and Plane tree shoots and the budding flowers of the Hollyhock. By this we know he sees in Hermione her beauty and love, her gracefulness, intelligence and creative power.”

Turning to Harry, he held out his wreath. As Hermione before him, Harry bowed deeply, expressing his respect, before taking the wreath.

“Turn now to your beloved,” the priest told them seriously, “and make known to each other, and to those gathered here, your feelings and intentions.”

Hermione turned toward Harry, looked down at her wreath... and panicked. She had written her vows weeks ago. She had studied them relentlessly and memorized them as she would for a test. Now, for the first time in her life, she drew a blank.

As she stared at the wreath, not saying a word, Harry had to quash the urge to squirm. Forgetting the crowd, he focused only on Hermione. Had she changed her mind? Was she having doubts? Unable to take it any longer, he reached out and raised her head with a finger under her chin so he could look into her eyes. Green eyes met brown, and understanding passed between them.

Smiling, he leaned closer to her and whispered, “See what happens when you study too hard? The brain can only hold so much before stuff before it starts dribbling out the ears.”

Hermione's eyes narrowed dangerously. “Then perhaps you should try to study a bit more. The sound of the wind rushing through your ears at night makes it hard for me to sleep!”

Realizing what she'd just said, she slapped a hand over her mouth and gazed at him, horrified. “Harry, I didn't mean that,” she mumbled from behind her hand.

Harry's laughter drown out her words.

Narcissa, Dan and Emma, who had been staring at the young woman first in amusement, then in shock, watched as the young man reached out and touched Hermione's cheek gently.

“You rise to the bait every time. I knew what your reaction would be. That's why I said what I did,” Harry told her, his eyes dancing with amusement. Then, taking her free hand, his eyes turned serious. “This isn't a test and you're not going to be graded. I love you and I know you love me. Right now, in this time and place, nothing else matters. No matter what the future may hold for us, know always that you are the most important person in my life. No one and nothing will ever change that.

Tá mé chomh mór sin i ngrá leat, tá mé chomh doirte sin duit. I love you so much,” he said as he placed his wreath upon her head.

Hermione shook her head as she tried to blink away her tears. “You never cease to amaze me. Do you know that? Just when I think I have you figured out, you do something like this. When I think that I couldn't possibly love you more, you go and prove me wrong. Eocho says that, after this ceremony, our souls will be bound into one. I say differently. At the end of last summer, I felt you in my heart and your presence within me has only grown since then. You have been a part of me for a very long time now, Harry Potter. I love you and I want nothing more than to be with you forever.”

Raising her wreath and placing it on his head, she smiled and said, “Tá mé chomh mór sin i ngrá leat, tá mé chomh doirte sin duit. I love you so much.”

Joining hands, they turned then to face Eocho, only to find him grinning at them.

“Leave it to the two of you to change the ceremony,” he teased them gently. “But love will take its own path, and we must follow where it leads.” Signaling to Dan and Narcissa, the two stepped forward and Eocho gave them each a ribbon - one red, the other silver.

The escort then approached Harry and Hermione and began to wrap the ribbons around their joined hands in an elaborate Celtic knot they had practiced for many days.

“As your hands are bound fast, one to the other, so too are your lives,” Eocho told them. “In one year and one day, if you do not sever the bond, two souls will no longer exist. In their place, the one will take precedence. Two bodies, one spirit, bound together for eternity. If this is your wish, turn to each other and declare it.”

Turning to face each other, her left hand bound to his right, Harry and Hermione gazed at each other for a moment. Then, in one voice, they declared, “Is mise le meas agus i dtólamh. Yours, faithfully and always.”

“My blessings upon you and your newly born union. Let nothing and no one come between you,” Eocho intoned formally.

When the sound of many small bells ringing was heard throughout the circle, all looked to Eocho for understanding.

Arms spread wide, the ancient priest laughed happily. “The Gods, too, offer their blessings upon this joining. Shelter under their protection and know they are well pleased by you both. Go now, my children, and begin your life together!”

Harry and Dan bowed deeply, while Hermione and Narcissa curtsied. With one last look, the four turned away and joined Emma, and the others gathered to watch the ceremony.

Dan quickly hugged his daughter and shook Harry's hand. “Congratulations to you both. I need to join Remus, but we'll talk at the reception,” he told them.

“I, too, must return to the ceremony,”Narcissa told them quietly. Congratulations, my dears. I will see you both later.”

When Dan and Narcissa walked back towards the altar, Emma hugged Hermione, then Harry. Rather than trying to speak, the three turned back to the ceremony and watched as Luna, Narcissa, Draco and Bertrand stepped forward and paid their respects to Eocho.

“Draco Amadeus Black and Luna Laural Lovegood, do you come before this gathering of mortal and immortal to bind yourselves, one to the other...”



* * *



The Reception...

“You're looking mighty pensive for such a happy occasion, Minerva,” someone said gruffly.

Minerva started for a moment, then looked up at Miles Pickerton, who was smiling at her and holding two drinks. He gestured at the chair next to hers.

“May I?”

Suddenly and inexplicably flustered, all Minerva could do was nod and accept the drink he offered. Miles sat next to her and together they watched the party going on around them for a few minutes without speaking.

“What troubles you, Minerva?” he asked.

She sighed and played with her glass for a moment. “I suppose I'm suffering from what all people my age suffer from, Miles; Too long a memory. I'm sitting here wondering what Frank and Alice would say, were they here, or James and Lily, or Luna's mother.”

“I think they would be proud of their children. Oh, perhaps they wouldn't have wanted to see them get married so young, but I think they would be proud of them nonetheless. James was a wicked and cunning fighter. So were Frank and Alice, for that matter. Neville is a wicked and cunning fighter, and Merlin knows I don't want to get involved in a fight with Harry. No, I think their parents would be proud of them today.”

Minerva looked out over the dancing couples. The reception was set up with a series of long tables in a rectangular pattern and a large open area for dancing in the middle. All eight of the newly wed couples were in the center, at the moment, dancing. Minerva could see Olga nearby, supervising the elves. Sven, who had apparently appointed himself official taster, was behind her.

“Did you know I first saw Harry on the day he was born?” Minerva asked with a smile.

“No. I didn't know you were that close to the family,” Miles replied in surprise.

“Lily, like Hermione out there, was one of my favorite students. She was as good in transfiguration as James was. Her specialty was charms and potions, but I loved her like a daughter. As a Muggle born, she was so lost when she first came to Hogwarts. Everything was new and frightening to her. As for James, well, he was a handful, but mostly in a good way.

“I remember visiting St. Mungo's to see a friend when James caught me in the hallway and dragged me to the maternity ward. Oh, he was simply splitting with pride...”

“Come on, Professor! You've got to see this,” James said, bubbling over with joy.

“James Potter, don't think you're too old to get detention if you're pulling pranks here in St. Mungos,” Minerva replied snappily.

James sniggered and pulled her into the room where Lily lay on a bed holding a bundle in her arms. Minerva skidded to a stop and both hands flew to her mouth.

“Oh, the baby! Lily, are you alright?” she asked in a rush.

James gently lifted the bundle from his wife's arms and handed it to Minerva. “Harry James Potter, meet your honorary Aunt, Minerva. If you're really lucky, Harry, someday she'll be your Head of House,” he said softly.

“Call her Aunt Minnie,” said an impish voice behind her.

Minerva frowned. “He'll do no such thing, Sirius Black. And if you know what's good for you, you'll behave yourself.”

She looked down at the sleeping bundle, performing the customary scan to check fingers, toes, etc. Then Harry opened his eyes and yawned hugely. A nearby candelabra flared, leaving scorch marks against the wall. Minerva looked up and arched an eyebrow at Lily.

Lily nodded. “Not even a day old and he's already experiencing accidental magic discharges. He nearly set Hagrid's beard on fire.”

Minerva passed the baby back to Lily, who looked down at him with love and pride.

“You're going to be a powerful wizard someday, my little Harry,” she whispered to her son.

A flashbulb exploded and Minerva looked up to see James taking a photo of her and Lily together.

“I'll see you get a copy, Professor,” James told her, smiling.

“A copy of that photo still sits on my nightstand. Times back then were hard and we grasped at every piece of happiness and normalcy we could find.”

“Aye, I remember Minerva. But this is a new time, and we have new challenges. Things aren't as dire as they appear to be,” Miles told her with a smile.

Minerva nodded and smiled at him, then she heard a cough. Looking away from Miles, she saw Harry and Hermione Potter standing in front of her.

“Would you dance with me, Aunt Minerva?” Harry asked in a serious voice.

Minerva's eyes misted with unshed tears and she nodded, allowing Harry to lead her out onto the dance floor. Meanwhile, Hermione was tugging a reluctant Miles out to dance as well.

“Your parents would be proud of the man you've become, Harry,” Minerva said, while Harry led her through the slow dance.

Harry smiled down at her. “I hope so. I've tried to live as I think they would have wanted.”

“You've succeeded. Your mother would be so pleased with Hermione. Her one great fear for you was that you would have fallen into the pure blood beliefs.”

“Hermione is... special. I don't know if I can describe it, Aunt,” He said, then he shook his head in frustration. Describing Hermione was impossible for him. How could he describe the single most important person in his life? Words just didn't suffice. Looking back at Minerva, he smiled. “Besides, as a half blood, it would be rather foolish of me to believe as many pure bloods do, wouldn't it?”

He turned when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Behind him were Miles and Hermione.

“Partner switch?” offered Miles.

Seeing Minerva was agreeable, he bowed to her and switched to dancing...with Miles.

Harry and Miles took several bumbling steps, each instinctively trying to lead the other, when the shock finally wore off enough for Miles to start laughing.

“I meant switch female partners, you prat!” Miles exclaimed as he pulled away from Harry and walked back to Minerva.

“That will teach you to be more specific,” Harry told him as he wrapped his arms around Hermione and began to dance.

“Merlin! And you had to deal with all of the Marauders? How did you ever survive?” Miles asked Minerva as he lead her out onto the dance floor.

“There were moments when I wasn't sure I would,” Minerva said laughingly.

Nearby a pair of red heads danced to the slow tune.

“Are you happy, Ginny?” asked Charlie pensively.

Ginny looked up at her older brother, her eyes serious. “Yes, I am.”

“Good... I wish...” he started, then faltered.

“What do you wish?”

“I wish I could have been there. I've only one sister and it will always bother me that I wasn't able to watch her marry,” Charlie said with a sigh.

Ginny smiled gently and lifted a hand up to cup his cheek. “It takes time to rebuild trust, Charlie. You were excluded from the ceremony because there are things you aren't ready to know just yet. It will happen in time, if you allow it. Besides, this is just one piece of my life. You won't be excluded from the rest of it.”

Charlie smiled down sadly at his petite sister, looking so elegant and refined in her wedding robe.

When the music finally ended, the couples made their way to the head table for dinner. It had been a long day and few of them had eaten before now due to nerves. Years later, Harry would never remember exactly what he ate. He'd just remember that he'd had something.

After dinner, Dan stood and tapped a glass with a spoon to get everyone's attention. Nearby, elves were appearing with four trunks, one for each couple.

“Now that I have your attention, I'd like to begin. Normally, it is customary for the best man to offer a toast to the happy couple. But tonight we're going to break with tradition somewhat. Besides, we'll be here all night if every best man is to give a toast.

“As you can see, the house elves are preparing what our couples need for their honeymoons and I'm sure they all want to start their trip as soon as possible. So please, lift your glasses everyone, and let us toast to the happy couples. May their lives be filled with love and may their love strengthen them in the days to come,” Dan said, lifting his glass.

From the other tables came shouts of, “Here Here!” and glasses were raised in salute.

When the crowd died down, Dan stood again. “Our couples have agreed to a final dance before they leave. So let's give them a nice round of applause one final time before they leave us for the evening.”

Just as the music started to play, a disturbance was heard from one side of the tables. Several people were approaching the party, including Michael O'Dalley and several of his constables.

Harry, hearing the noise, steered Hermione over to where Michael O'Dalley and his men would arrive. Hermione took a step to the side so that they could both face the oncoming group. They both recognized O'Dalley and the two constables, but not the older couple, though Harry thought they looked vaguely familiar.

From over Harry's shoulder there came a shriek and a pink hair woman bowled Harry down from behind in an attempt to reach the older couple.

“MUM! DAD!” yelled Tonks. Remus followed his wife until he reached Harry, where he paused long enough to help the younger man to his feet.

“Didn't we get them out in the main evacuation, Remus?” Harry asked in confusion.

Remus shook his head. “No, they were traveling at the time and we couldn't locate them. Then we heard some rumors that they had escaped to southern France, but we were never able to pin anything down.”

“Even owl post?” Harry asked incredulously.

“By the time Britain fell, the owls were as confused as everyone else. None of our owls got through to them. They might have used a Fidelius charm, or just some sort of obscuration charm coupled with an anti-scrying charm,” Remus replied.

“They must have learned about Haven in the papers,” offered Hermione.

Remus smiled softly as he watched his wife. “Yes, I suppose so. I'm just glad they made it out alright.”

Tonks grabbed both the man and woman and hugged them tightly, tears streaming down her face. Harry placed a hand on Remus' shoulder and gently propelled him forward.

“Looks like we got here too late to give the bride away,” murmured Ted Tonks as he reached out to grip Remus' hand.

Remus shook it gladly and grinned. “Better to be a little late than to never show up.”

Andromeda cupped her daughter's cheeks in both of her hands. “You make a wonderful bride, m'love.”

Tonks blushed outrageously and her hair cycled through an entire rainbow of colors. Then she looked disappointed. “Oh, bloody Merlin! We're about to leave for the honeymoon! But you just got here,” she said unhappily.

Remus stepped forward and put an arm around her shoulders. “We can delay or even postpone...”

“No!” Andromeda exclaimed, holding up a hand imperiously. “If you delay, it will only be a vacation when you get around to taking the trip. Go... your father and I will be fine and we'll be here when you get back.”

Ted nodded in affirmation.

Harry moved forward and addressed the new arrivals. “I insist you stay at the manor while we're gone. Your daughter is family to me and you'll be more comfortable there.”

Tonks smiled at Harry gratefully, then turned back to her parents. “Mum, Dad, this is Harry Potter. Harry, these are my parents, Ted and Andromeda Tonks. Harry got married today too.”

“Then we won't hold you up either,” Ted said, shaking Harry's hand. “Thank you for the invitation to stay in the manor and we'll see you all when you get back.”

“Congratulation,” Andromeda added as she, too, shook Harry's hand. “Enjoy your trip.”

“Thanks,” Harry said, then turned away and rejoined Hermione on the dance floor.

Satisfied that her parents would be fine, Tonks and Remus allowed themselves to be pulled out onto the dance floor for one more dance with her parents. When the dance was finally done, a hush fell over the crowd.

Harry walked over to where the elves had laid out the trunks. Finding the one that belonged to Hermione and himself, he sat down on it. Hermione kissed her mother farewell and she joined him, sitting on his lap.

He looked at her and grinned. “Well?” he asked.

“Well, what?”

“We can't go anywhere until you tap the trunk with your wand,” Harry said to the laughter of the crowd.

Hermione blushed. “Oh... I forgot.”

“Definitely a day for me to remember,” Harry quipped with a smile and then they were gone. One by one the other couples repeated the process of activating the portkeys or apparating.

Dan chuckled at the antics of his daughter and son-in-law.

Emma turned and looked at him, arching an eyebrow.

“Before you go commenting on how your daughter acted during her wedding, I'll remind you that you forgot to fuel the car for ours and you had to push us three kilometers to a petrol station,” she said archly.

Dan ducked his head and wandered away from his wife, muttering, “I wonder if there is any more cake left?”



* * *



The Newly Wed Game (Draco and Luna)...

Draco and Luna appeared in the lobby of a posh tropical hotel that catered to Wizarding guests. Luna smiled prettily at Draco as a house elf dressed as a bell hop appeared.

“Mr. Black? Your cabin has been arranged and is ready. If you will just follow me?” the little elf asked.

Draco nodded to the elf and then reached for Luna's hand.

“It was nice of Harry to let us use this place. I wonder if we'll see any beach combing Snip Wippets while we're here,” Luna murmured softly.

“Maybe,” Draco offered with a smile. He was quite used to Luna's off comments by now. She had greatly cut down on them, but they still slipped out from time to time.

Following the elf down a sandy path, he led them to a two story A frame cabin facing the beach. A large window adorned each floor, allowing an unfettered view of the beach and the nearby ocean.

“The presidential cabin, Mr. Black. The refrigerator is fully stocked, as is the bar. We also offer twenty four hour room service. Simply ring the hand bell located in the dinette and a staff elf will appear to take your order. Next to your bed you will find a brochure outlining some of the highlights of the island. The management is pleased to be able to serve a family member of one of our directors,” said the elf in a serious tone.

Draco could only nod in surprise, then he nudged the door open with his foot and picked up Luna. Luna's laugh sounded like gentle bells in his ear as he maneuvered her through the doorway.

Draco carried his bride all the way into the bedroom and stopped. Luna looked at him questioningly.

“Dray? What's wrong?” she asked.

“I'm not sure. I've seen several of Dan's muggle movies where the groom carried the bride over the threshold, but they never show where he put her,” he replied with a hint of confusion in his voice.

“Well, where would you like to put me?”

He colored a bright red ,which really made his blond hair stand out and Luna laughed huskily, causing him to blush harder.

“Put me on the bed Dray,” she whispered in his ear.

Draco lowered her to the bed and she quickly sat up. “Why don't you see if there's any butterbeer in that bar over there, then go change. I'll head into the bathroom and change out of these robes while you're looking for the drinks,” Luna told him, then she started to rummage around in their trunk.

While Draco looked for the drinks, Luna went into the bathroom.

Draco finally found something acceptable to drink, a Muggle soda. The bar was sorely lacking in butterbeer. Turning around, he froze, seeing Luna exit the bathroom.

She wore a gossamer robe and nothing else. Although they had been intimate before this, never had they been so casual about it. They both felt for the first time that they didn't have to sneak around.

Draco backed up a bit until he sat roughly on the bed and stared at her. When she smiled at him, he returned it. Though he didn't say it, he was worried about what was to come. They had still not discovered the key to controlling Luna's emotional broadcasts. Of the few times they had made love, the only way they could do it was with her masking her emotions and it ruined the experience for her.

Draco suddenly stiffened on the bed. He felt something within him snap, and he looked up at her as she approached him, concerned about the emotions she felt from him.

This situation is ridiculous, Draco thought angrily. I want her to enjoy it as much as I do, but her broadcasts overwhelm me every time! He was angry at himself, at Luna and at life in general. He had a beautiful wife and he couldn't share that most basic of needs with her because of what she was!

Draco stood and stalked towards her. Luna stepped back fearfully and he grabbed her arms. His grip was firm, but not firm enough to hurt. Something in Luna seemed to click and she melted against him.

“You're mine,” he growled holding her and caressing her. His hands ran over her body and her senses spun with an increasing desire. She could feel his passion rise as he cupped one of her breasts in his hand and gently pinched her nipple. The bond she had created with him when she had saved his life opened like a sluice gate. When his hand cupped her mons, she lost all control and started to broadcast her emotions. A small part of her mind screamed for her to stop, but she ignored the logical in favor of the physical.

“Not this time, Luna,” Draco snarled. She gasped as the bond opened even wider and she could feel him feeding her emotional assault back to her. She screamed once and clutched at him as she orgasmed.

Exulted, he lifted her in his arms and laid her on the bed. He undressed quickly, then opened her robe.

Shivering, she reached for him even as she struggled to control the broadcasting of her emotions.

Draco positioned himself over her and leaned down close enough that his lips brushed hers as he spoke. “You're mine,” he repeated in a savage whisper. “Forever, Luna.”

She cried out and surrendered to his passions and her own. Draco, in his own way, had managed to unlock the secret to managing her broadcasts. In claiming her for himself, the two surrendered to each other, both attaining ascendancy and submission to the other.

On a small, unplottable Carribean island, a couple, now husband and wife, started a new life together, having overcome the final hurdle.



* * *



International Apparation/Portkey Point, Calais, France…

“Bon jour,” said the nondescript clerk.

“Hello,” Terry replied. Susan smiled and touched his arm.

“Bon jour,” replied Susan.

“Le passeport, s'il vous plaît.”

Susan rummaged through her handbag and pulled out two passports, which she handed over to the clerk. The man's eyes widened slightly and he looked again at the photos, then at the young couple standing before him.

“You are English, no?” asked the clerk.

“That's right, but we've been living in Ireland,” replied Terry, grateful that the man had switched to English.

“Are you here on business or pleasure?”

Susan smiled at Terry, and he blushed before turning back to the clerk. “Pleasure. We're going on our honeymoon,” he replied.

The clerk smiled at the couple, then he pulled out a stamp and stamped both passports.

“Well then, I won't keep you. Enjoy your stay in France.” the clerk said as he returned their passports.

Terry and Susan nodded and he led her over to a desk where they could buy a portkey for their final destination, Paris.

The clerk watched the couple until they were no longer visible. Then he ducked into a nearby office. He had an owl to send. This one would earn him a hefty reward, he was sure.



* * *



Anafi, Mediterranean Sea...

The spinning stopped and if Harry hadn't been sitting, he surely would have fell over. He would have preferred to apparate, like Susan and Terry, but the distance was too great. He could probably do it, and perhaps apparate with his new bride. But he didn't want to spend the first days of his honeymoon recovering from exhaustion because he apparated the two of them across the continent.

Hermione stood and looked around. They were sitting in the foyer of a house much like Padfoot Manor.

Harry stood and walked over to a set of doors and threw them open. Inside was a sitting room with huge bay windows. Hermione gasped at the view. The house obviously sat on a cliff overlooking the ocean.

Harry turned at a popping noise from behind him and spotted two ancient looking house elves, both of whom bowed to him.

“We is pleased to see the master of the house return. It has been many years and we was scared that no Potters remained,” said the male elf.

Harry smiled and looked down at the pair. “What are your names?” he asked in a gentle tone.

“I is Sippi, Master,” said the male.

“And I is Tippi,” said the female.

“I'm Harry and this is my wife, Hermione. Would you take our luggage up to the master bedroom for us?”

Both elves nodded vigorously and together they moved the trunk upstairs.

Harry shook his head and muttered “More elves!”

Hermione smiled, then gestured to the view from the window. “Where are we, Harry?”

“This is the Potter vacation house on the island of Anafi, south of Greece. To be honest, I wasn't even sure it was still here until I talked to Remus about it.”

She looked at him curiously. “Did Remus visit here recently?”

“No, only Potters and those we invite here can come here. Remus visited the place during the summer of his sixth year with my dad and Sirius, and saw no reason why it wouldn't still be here.”

Hermione's eyes bulged ominously. “No reason why... What would you have done if it had been destroyed?”

Harry looked at her in the deepening dusk. The sunset visible from the window painted the sky with a rainbow of colors. He walked to her and wrapped his arms around her. “I had reservations at the Regency Hilton in Cairo if the home was unacceptable,” he said with a grin.

“Egypt?” Hermione asked breathlessly. “Why?”

Harry leaned over and kissed her forehead gently. “Because I know my wife,” he replied with a smug grin. “She'll want to spend her days learning and her nights loving. This way we can apparate easily enough to Greece, or I can take us both to Egypt. I understand they are restoring the Wizarding library at Alexandria.”

Hermione tightened her arms around him. “Tomorrow is soon enough for learning. Tonight I want my husband, as often as possible and as many ways as he can handle,” she said huskily.

“I think I can manage that,” he whispered to her, then he took her by the hand and led her upstairs to the master bedroom.



* * *



Author's Notes:

Yes once again we come to the author's notes. Unfortunately we also have some bad news. I know we were keeping a really good update schedule, but the simple fact is both Alyx and I have been sick of late and that is wreaking havoc with our updates. It is hard to get motivated when you're in a lot of pain, and weird to read if you're hyped up on drugs.

For the foreseeable future we will try to maintain at least a once a month, sometimes twice a month update schedule. We're sorry, but that's the best we can manage. Sometimes real life sucks, you know?

To Heart_bloodline: Bell

Sorry, Bob does not have any unmarried brothers. Although he is interested in seeing applications, preferably with photos in case Alyx suddenly slips and falls off the face of the planet.

Yes we know strudel isn't easy to make. But Hermione is an expert in everything. Except cooking. Really we wanted to make her angst a little over the idea that she can do so many other things, but when things get really important. She can't cook.

The showdown between Dumbledore and Harry isn't the last one we're going to see. This one was spur of the moment and Harry regrets that deeply. He also regrets transfiguring himself into a mouse and visiting the girl's showers.

One of the purposes of AU is to take canon characters and warp them in some way. I hate Draco. I loathe the slimy bastard and yet here we are with a good Draco impossibly coupled with Luna Lovegood.

Yes Dumbledore went bald as part of his undercover disguise. Be thankful I didn't paint three black spots and the letters AMF on his head.

For all those who got their knickers in a twist reading this, we want you to stop. Go outside immediately and untwist those knickers! Don't you realize the damage you can do to yourself if you deprive blood to that area?

Will Dumbledore die this chapter? Ummm no.

Anyone thinking they are unworthy should sent us $29.95 for our worthiness kit. (Just kidding!)

Well we're now starting the long road of redeeming Charlie Weasley. The Weasley angst that had so many readers begging for his death, or redemption is our literary version of the Cruciatus curse, enjoy the pain, minions!

The UPDATELESS LIST!!!!

This is getting hard to do because (a) real life conditions are greatly extending our own updates out.

The Time of Change by Olafr

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/1637630/1/

This gem has the ability to turn into one of the best Harry/Hermione fan fics since Old Crow wrote No Thanks. Last updated on 21-Feb-06, come on folks, lets nudge Olafr and let him know we love that story and want more.





Sunrise Over Britain

Chapter 11 - Honeymoon Surprises


Standard Disclaimer:

Severus Snape walked out onto the stage and stood regally in front of the audience.

“The authors of this fine tale have invited me to speak about how they do not own anything in this story. The characters are the sole property of JK Rowling and other people, not the authors. The Authors further wish to claim abject poverty, so suing them would be a waste of money. Bob even went as far as to claim they rent their food, but I don't believe that in the least. Although I did have to return the cookie they gave me so maybe he wasn't kidding.”

Snape finished speaking and looked expectantly out at the audience in confusion. The longer he waited, the angrier he got. Finally he couldn't take it anymore.

“WHAT? No herd of rampaging hippogriffs? No tying me to a missile? No death and dismemberment? No burning to death? No...” Snape paused for a moment and paled.

“By Grabthar's hammer, by the sons of Warvan, you shall be avenged!” he blurted in surprise.

Snape stopped speaking and looked horrified. “GIRL POWER!” he shouted as his hair braided and his clothing changed into a yellow polka dot dress.

Snape glared and stared at one section of the audience. Then he reached into his robe pulling out a fish. “A Hero is as good as his weapon!” he called stamping his feet. Then he dropped the fish and slapped both hands over his mouth.

In the audience Harry and Hermione smiled at each other. “Wait til the love/lust potion kicks in, should be any minute,” murmured Harry.

“A love/lust potion? Oh Harry that is too cruel,” admonished Hermione halfheartedly.

“I know, but it's fun,” he replied. At that point a twelve foot tall purple Dinosaur burst onto the stage staring at Snape. “I LOVE YOU, YOU'LL LOVE ME...”

Snape screamed in despair as the Dinosaur reached him.

“This is low, even for you,” hissed Alyx to Bob.

“Yes Dear, I know. Now would you still like me to spank you tonight?”

“Of course!” Alyx gleefully cackled in reply.



* * *



Sunrise over Britain

Chapter 11





* * *



Hogwarts Castle (August 2nd)...

Voldemort looked up in surprise to see Lucius Malfoy stride into his audience chamber. Normally he came to Hogwarts every other week. Lucius was early and that meant something interesting was coming.

“Lucius! This is not your normal day to report. What news have you for me?” Voldemort said.

Malfoy stopped roughly five feet from the Dark Lord's chair and bowed so deeply he nearly groveled. “My lord, I wish to report on some information that has come into our hands.”

Voldemort leaned forward. “Yes? What is it?”

Lucius looked down at a small book where he kept his notes. “First off, we are now one hundred percent sure that both Antonin and his men have been eliminated. We have heard nothing from them in over a week now. I have contacted one of the syndicates to see if they can find out any information for us.”

Voldemort scowled fiercely.

Lucius glanced up from his book and cringed under the baleful gaze of his master. Hurriedly, he continued with his report.

“Also, it seems that Potter wasn't very discriminating when he took the students from the school. We have heard from a couple of students via their relatives in Europe. We are working on establishing a more direct method of contact with them. Interestingly enough, the students report that there appears to be some sort of fight going on between Potter and Dumbledore. The Irish Ministry has proclaimed Dumbledore to be a wanted fugitive.”

Lucius paused and waited while the Dark Lord considered that piece of information.

Voldemort leaned back in his chair, pondering. “So... Potter and Dumbledore are at odds. This could work to our advantage.”

“It appears so, my lord. There were unconfirmed rumors that the Ministry had been investigating Dumbledore on Potter's behalf. When Richfield took over the Ministry, that bitch, Bones, removed all the confidential files from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, so we never could confirm the rumor,” Lucius told him.

Voldemort nodded. “What else have you for me?”

“It appears that our French friends have spotted two of Potter's inner circle entering France yesterday. I have asked them to track them down and observe what they are doing. I thought about authorizing a hit wizard, but I wanted to get your approval before we try that.”

Voldemort reached down and stroked Nagini while he considered that. “What other news have you for me?”

“Nothing more at the moment, my lord. The consolidation in and around the London area is complete and we have total control of that region now. The army has moved into the uncontrolled out lying regions and has begun to pacify them. The army has found it necessary to recruit some of the more violent civilians, but that seems to be working in our favor.

“On the international front, we have managed to expand our network considerably by contacting several Wizarding crime syndicates. Most aren't aligned with our cause, but are amenable to helping us for the right price. A few are hoping that once we can solve the barrier problem, they can ally themselves more fully with you. Our friends in Milan have located another cauldron for your use and I expect it to arrive in a day or two. Our agents in the middle east are keeping those countries on the fence, so the British will find no help from them.

“The British Government in Exile is still trying to bring other muggle governments in on their side, looking for support for a possible invasion. Most of the governments are unwilling to commit to such an endeavor, however. It appears they have misinterpreted all those Dementor attacks as some unknown contagious disease.”

Malfoy paused, startled by the high pitched scream that trailed off. Voldemort frowned. “Have you had no luck finding me a Necromancer?” he snarled.

Lucius paled. “No, my lord, We have tried, but none of those we know of are willing to come here. The one we tried to kidnap was too heavily protected by the French Ministry. The art of Necromancy is very rare, my lord, and most Ministry's guard their Necromancers closely, to protect them.”

“Damnation!” Voldemort said, pounding a fist on the armrest. “That thrice damned poltergeist has killed nearly twenty men so far, and we now have new ghosts infesting the castle. It disturbs my sleep.”

As he spoke, a spectral figure of a Death Eater floated into the room. “TURN BACK FROM THY EVIL WAYS,” the ghost cried. Several of the living Death Eaters flinched and Voldemort growled deep in his throat.

“Crucio ” he whispered at one Death Eater who was cowering back from the ghost, visibly frightened.

Voldemort lifted the curse after a few minutes, seemingly bored with the whole process, then he turned his attention back to Lucius.

“Lucius, your news pleases me for the most part. It is a pity about Dolohov, but his performance and reliability had become erratic of late. I will send word to our French friends about what to do about Potter's friends. Now, sit. I wish to discuss other matters with you.”

A chair appeared and a very startled Lucius Malfoy sat down in his master's presence for the first time since pledging himself to the Dark Lord.





* * *



Cairngorn Mountains, Scotland...

Dumbledore's first impression even before he opened his eyes was one of pain, overwhelming pain. He opened his eyes and frowned. Ripples of pain crossed his face and he moaned piteously on the bed, writhing in his agony.

“Master Dumblydore should not try moving,” piped a small voice.

“Of all the people I expected to see at this safe house, you are the very last, Albus Dumbledore,” said a gruff and familiar voice.

Dumbledore tried to lift his head to look around. Something wasn't quite right with his vision. He turned his head towards the source of the voice.

“Alastor?” he croaked.

The little elf placed a drink to his lips. “Drink, Master Dumblydore, it wills make you feel better and help heal.”

Dumbledore drank sparingly. He wasn't sure of his situation, except to say he was in considerable pain.

“Aye, Albus, it's me. And for once I can honestly say I look better than you do. Nippers and I are all you have when it comes to a healer. You've been asleep for weeks now... Why did you do it, Albus? Are you that willing to risk your very soul?”

Dumbledore peered up at his old friend in consternation. “What are you talking about?”

“I heard it on the wireless. The Irish Government has placed a price on your head for an unprovoked attack at Potter's Haven. I know you and Potter don't see eye to eye anymore, but can't you leave the lad alone? He's the one who now leads the fight against Voldemort.”

Dumbledore leaned up in his bed. “It should be me,” he snarled, then he collapsed back in his bed, panting.

“Well, that isn't going to happen anytime soon, Albus. You've been badly burned, and your eye is injured. It's going to take you a long time before you can get out of bed, let alone lead any fights. I'll let you stay here long enough to heal, then you need to go elsewhere if you're looking to fight. I want no part of your battles with Potter or Voldemort or whomever. I just want to live here quietly, in peace,” Moody said sadly. He was depressed that he had to take this hard line with his old friend, but he would not allow himself to be pulled into some sort of vendetta.

Dumbledore looked up at his old friend in shock. The potion was starting to make him drowsy and it took all his strength to nod in agreement. He'd work on changing his mind after he was better.

Moody watched Dumbledore slip off to sleep. “Oh, no you won't, Albus,” he murmured softly, then he turned to Nippers and gave the little elf instructions for dinner.





* * *



Anafi, Mediterranean Sea...

The sun was well above the horizon when Harry finally woke up. He was naked, as was Hermione who was currently using him as her own personal mattress. He smiled and caressed her cheek tenderly. For a moment he thought she'd ignore him and continue sleeping, but she cracked an eye open, looking at him.

“Good morning, Mrs. Potter,” he whispered, then he tightened his grip on her.

She smiled and stretched against him. All thoughts of breakfast and getting up fled his mind. “I like the sound of that,” she murmured, then she lightly gripped his stiffening erection. “I like this even better.”

Harry chuckled as she blushed from her own boldness, then he kissed the top of her head.

“Sweetie, as much as I'd like to, you sort of drained the well dry last night and I need a little time to recover. Besides, we have a busy day scheduled for today,” he said with a grin.

Hermione propped her head up on one hand and continued to lightly stroke him. “Oh? I don't think you're as drained as you claim. But just what do you have planned for today? After all, this is our honeymoon.”

Harry shuddered from the sensations she was causing and tried to concentrate on the conversation. “I had Remus make some arrangements for us. Today we meet with a Gregorios Stavros in Athens. He'll be showing us around the Wizarding sections of the city. Remus tells me he's the manager of one of my family's companies here in Greece. I know we have only ten days for our honeymoon, but once Voldemort's gone, we're going to do it right. In the meantime, we'll explore Athens, and Minerva has given me a letter of introduction to get us into the Library at Alexandria, in case you want to go see the restoration.”

Hermione quickened her hand for a moment then she crawled up and straddling him. Harry gasped as he slid into her and she smiled down at him. “It's nice having a husband who caters to my desires,” she said in a husky voice, slowly riding him. “I'll just have to think of a nice way of thanking him.”

Harry growled in the back of his throat and pulled her down to kiss her.





* * *



El Magica, not far from St. Thomas...

Draco woke to a wonderful sound. Someone was singing softly, and it sounded perfect to him. A large open window allowed a cool breeze to waft over his naked form. Sitting up, he spotted some clothes laid out for him. Luna was no where to be seen, but unless he was mistaken, she was singing softly to herself in the other room. Dressing quickly, he went to join her on the first floor of the two story cabin.

Luna sat at their dinning table, playing with several flowers. What surprised him the most was that she had apparently decided that clothing was optional for breakfast. She wasn't completely naked, though. She wore a floral print skirt and a crude looking hat made from palm fronds. Around her neck was a necklace of iridescent shells.

She looked up at him and smiled widely. He could feel her no longer masking her emotions and he could feel the bond between them insulating him, protecting him from being overwhelmed.

“Good morning my husband,” Luna said with a lilting laugh to her voice.

Draco smiled and tried to tear his eyes away from her breasts, lightly swaying as she breathed. “Good morning, my wife,” he mumbled then sat down next to her, staring at the table.

Luna leaned over and kissed him on his cheek, then touched his face. “We're married now, Dray. You're allowed to look at me.”

Draco nodded and tried to ignore the flush climbing up his cheeks. “I know, Luna. But seeing you like this... it only makes me want to take you back upstairs to make love to you again.”

Luna laughed throatily and hugged him, then offered him a cup of coffee. “Later, my sweet. Right now we need to eat and we need to talk... about what happened last night.”

“Last night?” he asked, somewhat confused. This was a new aspect of Luna. Despite her attire, or lack there of, she seemed tightly focused for a change.

“Yes. Last night you stabilized our bond. Now, at least when we're alone, I no longer need to mask my emotions. For the first time in my life I can be myself. You are my anchor and my protector,” she said in a gentle tone.

Draco took a sip of his coffee and tried to formulate his thoughts into words without hurting her. “Does this mean you'll be able to be yourself around anyone, or just me?”

Luna reached out and cupped his cheek gently. “My poor Dray. This really has caught you off guard, hasn't it? I can feel you struggling, trying to frame your questions. Don't be afraid of hurting my feelings. I know how strange I appeared to everyone. And I know how much you love me, despite my little quirks. The quirks aren't gone Dray, they are just better... Controlled, perhaps?... Yes, controlled would be the right word.”

Draco leaned into her touch, surprised at how much he craved her gentle caress. Luna laughed softly and leaned over to wrap her arms around him. After a few minutes she released him.

“Eat up, Dray. After breakfast we'll take a morning swim. It was going to rain today, but I asked the rain to hold off until the afternoon. After our swim we'll shower together and spend a lazy afternoon making love.”

Draco's eyes glazed over with the images she painted in his mind and he nodded, completely skipping over her comment about her postponing the rain until later.

Luna stood and put on a bikini top, then she winked at Draco and walked out.

Draco, his mind still a whirl, grabbed one last bite of his toast, then he followed her out of the cabin and onto the beach. He would have walked into the sea fully clothed if she hadn't reminded him to take off his shirt and shoes.





* * *



Paris, France...

Terry leaned out over the balcony and looked at the Eiffel Tower in the distance. He turned at the knock at the door.

“I'll get it,” Susan called.

Susan came out of the bedroom wearing a robe. She opened the door and spoke to the person outside the door. Terry could hear her talking in French and he shook his head, marveling that she was so fluent in the language. A minute later a man wheeled a cart into the suite and started to move food from it to the table in one corner of the living room.

“Terry, breakfast!” she called.

He turned and walked back into the living room, heading for the table while she took care of the tip.

“This sure is a nice place Harry arranged for us,” he said with a grin. The large windows showed the city spread out before them. The bedroom was lush, bordering on decadent and the bath was positively hedonistic.

Susan smiled at him and poured them both a cup of tea. “From what I understand, the Potter family owned interests in several muggle and Wizarding hotel chains. He and Remus found out where we all wanted to go and then arranged for us to stay.”

“I know, Susan, but look at this place! There are three unused bedrooms to this suite. It's the only suite on the whole floor!”

Susan giggled softly. “It's called the Owner's suite, Terry. I'm just happy that Harry did this for us. Did you see that bathroom?”

Terry grinned back at her, and looked at her carefully. She wore the filmy nightgown she had come to bed in under her robe. Her attire was giving him ideas, which caused him to blush to his roots.

She laughed at his coloring. “We can spend the day here if you like. Hermione gave me a list of things to see and do in Paris that we can pick from. But that can wait until tomorrow.”

“It figures. Hermione would have an itinerary set up for us. Let me guess, all educational stuff?” he asked with a laugh.

“Let me check,” she said, getting up from the table to get the list.

A moment later she walked back into the room holding the parchment. She walked slowly, approaching Terry while she read the list.

“No,” she murmured in surprise. “This is the first time I've really looked at it but, shockingly, she lists several night clubs and theaters. She says the Wizarding section of Paris has great shopping. She also recommends a few restaurants and several museums,” she told him, looking up with a grin.

Terry smiled and pulled her into his lap ,nuzzling her neck for a moment. “That must be Harry's influence on her. I'm sure she would have listed only libraries and museums if it weren't for him.”

Susan sighed and ran her hands through his hair. “I don't know, Terry. She's mellowed a lot since she started seeing Harry. I'll bet she had no educational plans at all for their honeymoon.”

“So let's plan on spending a little more time here today, then later we can check out one of those restaurants and maybe a club,” he suggested while slipping a hand inside her robe.

She shivered in his lap and tightened her grip on him. “I like that idea.”





* * *



The town of Haven...

“Over there is our town hall and meeting place. Next to that is the Ministry building, which is where we're heading,” said Arthur.

Andromeda and Ted shook their heads in amazement. Neither had expected Haven to be so well built or so organized. They had envisioned something on the same level as a muggle refugee camp. Instead, they found a neatly built town with shops and schools. The town had gotten off to a shaky start but now was a bustling hub of activity.

“And Mr. Potter built all this?” Ted Tonks asked incredulously.

“That's right,” Arthur said with a nod. “The town, schools and hospital. He even negotiated with Gringotts for a branch to be opened here. That's it, next to the Ministry building.”

Both turned to look at the white marble building that seemed to lean precariously to the left and yet somehow stayed standing.

“Remarkable,” murmured Andromeda.

“What's really remarkable isn't the town, it's the people,” Arthur offered.

Ted and Andromeda turned to look at him curiously. “What do you mean?” Ted asked.

Arthur paused in the middle of the street and looked at the two of them for a moment. “When Harry first proposed his idea, he meant to try to save some of the Hogwarts students, their families and some friends. From that point, it grew. We now over five thousand people in the town. More than three times the population of Hogsmeade, which was the single largest pure Wizarding community in Britain.

“One third of our population are either muggles or squibs. Harry and his friends have done a lot to promote the idea of muggles and wizards working together and living together. He's even backing a muggle for the office of Mayor. Personally, I think the man will win too. Harry tries to maintain a low profile here in town, but everyone here knows they owe a debt to him.”

Andromeda shook her head. “I still don't understand all this. Why is my daughter so involved with Mr. Potter? Why would he care about her?” she asked in confusion.

“Harry knew your daughter first as an Auror and a member of Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix,” Arthur said after a moment. “But more importantly to Harry, he knows her as Remus' girlfriend. Remus is the last living connection he has to his parents and, in a way, Remus is his surrogate father. Harry loves Remus, and loves what your daughter does for him. She's brought joy into Remus' life, and Harry considers her to be like a big sister, or perhaps a young aunt. Because of that, he considers her, and the both of you as her parents, to be part of his extended family. If there is one thing I've learned about Harry Potter, it's that he will do anything for family.”

“Yes, I could see that in his eyes yesterday. Just the look he gave Remus and Dora. And his generous offer for us to stay at the manor house,” Ted mused.

Arthur nodded in agreement, then looked up at the building they stood in front of. “Ah... here we are. The Ministry building.”

“Why are we coming here again, Mr. Weasley?” asked Andromeda.

“You two traveled through some areas that Miles Pickerton wants to talk to you about. We've had some reports about V-V-Voldemort receiving aide from crime syndicates and the like. Miles just wants to ask you a few questions, that's all,” Arthur said reassuringly.

Ted and Andromeda shared a look of relief as Arthur ushered the two into the Ministry building. A few moments later he led them into a small office. Behind the desk sat Miles Pickerton, who looked up and smiled a welcome as they entered.

“Thank you for bringing them by, Arthur. Amelia said she received the figures from the Irish you needed. Should I send them up to your office when I'm done?” Miles asked in a gruff tone.

Ted and Andromeda shared worried look and wondered if they were somehow in trouble.

“Just send me a note when you're done here, Miles, and I'll come get them,” Arthur said agreeably.

Miles nodded and Arthur walked from the room, closing the door behind him.

“Please, be seated. This won't take long,” Miles said with a smile. “I just have a few questions for the two of you.”

“Are we in some kind of trouble?” asked Ted. “I know we just showed up without any kind of warning...”

Ted trailed off as Miles' grin grew larger. “No, you're not in any kind of trouble. I wanted to talk to you both because you might have information we could use.”

Andromeda perked up at this. “Oh? How so?”

Miles glanced down at a parchment in front of him. “According to my sources, you are a developer of new charms, and your husband is an investigator for the Wizarding part of Lloyds of London. Both careers require substantial observational skills.”

“So what is it you need of us, sir?” asked Ted curiously.

“What I'm wondering is, did anything seem out of place or odd during your trip? Especially across France? We've had disturbing reports that several crime syndicates have been helping Voldemort's forces there, including one attempted kidnapping of the official French Necromancer.”

Ted Tonks leaned back in his chair and looked at the ceiling for a moment. “No, I don't think I can recall...”

“Wait, darling,” said Andromeda. Ted turned to look at her. “Remember those people at the customs check in?” she asked.

Ted's eyes lost their focus as he recalled their entry and exit from France. “Yes... we had traveled up from Spain into Pic d'Estats. The customs clerk was very curious about our travel plans. More than what I'd consider normal for that kind of job.”

Andromeda leaned forward in her chair looking intently at Miles. “Teddy received notice to visit a villa in southern Spain that had been damaged by a herd of hippogriffs. Since it had been a while since we had a vacation, I went along with him, figuring we could turn his trip into a working vacation. While we were gone, the government fell and everything fell apart back home. Teddy cast an obscuring charm on us as a precaution. Then we made our way north. Teddy wanted to go to the Paris office of Lloyds to see if we could find out any information about what was going on at home,” Andromeda said, then she choked up a bit.

Ted put a comforting hand on his wife's arm. “She's safe and so are we, Andy,” he murmured softly.

Miles nodded in agreement. “Yes, you're both safe now. I understand you had a difficult time not knowing what was happening at home, or with your daughter. But that's all behind you now,” he said gruffly, though his eyes shone with warm understanding.

Andromeda smiled weakly at her husband and Miles. Then she prompted her husband again.

“Tell him about the exit point, Teddy,” she said softly.

Ted glanced at her, then looked back at Miles, his expression growing somewhat embarrassed. “By the time we had reached Calais, I was downright paranoid. All the time we spent in Paris I couldn't shake the feeling that we were being watched. When we learned about Haven, I went and picked up two false passports from my office, showing us as Irish citizens. Sometimes we need to use phony passports in an investigation to help conceal who we are. Anyway, at the Calais checkpoint, the customs officer spent quite a lot of time examining our papers, then tried very hard to convince us to use a government made portkey, despite the fact that we were clearly planning to apparate. To be honest, Mr. Pickerton, the man felt odd to me and I was well glad to be gone from that place.”

Miles frowned and wrote a small note on a piece of parchment, then he folded it and tossed it into the air. Before the parchment could begin to fall an owl swooped into the room and grabbed it. Miles looked at the two and grinned.

“Inter-office express owls. It's an idea one of the Weasley boys came up with,” he said in explanation. A moment later Charlie Weasley walked into the office.

“You wanted to see me Miles?” he asked.

“Yes, Charlie. How are things going with the block wardens?”

“We've got the wardens in place, and tomorrow they'll have the last of the wards set on the town hall so we can use it as a shelter. After that, we'll need to build shelters and I still have to look at what we can do for the school. It's pretty open,” Charlie replied. He recognized Ted and Andromeda, but had no idea why he had been summoned to this meeting and thought it best to remain quiet for the moment.

“Charlie, you went through the Calais customs point, didn't you?” asked Miles.

“Yeah,” Charlie said in a low growl. “The customs officer nearly got me caught, too.”

“Can you describe him?”

Charlie leaned against the wall and thought for a moment. “It's been a while, but let me think. He was of medium height and build and had black hair with a bald patch in the back. I seem to remember that he walked with a slight limp.”

“That's him!” exclaimed Ted Tonks.

“You had to deal with him?” Charlie asked.

“Yes, on our way here,” Andromeda told him.

Miles looked between the three, then shrugged. “Alright then, I'll send word to the French Ministry. They'll put someone to watch him. My thanks to all three of you.”

Miles stood from behind the desk and led them out of the office, thanking them for their help.





* * *



Q Branch, Haven Operations Center...

“Oy! Move a little further to the left,” Fred shouted at George.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” asked Helga worriedly. She could see her boyfriend standing down at the far end of the testing area waving at Fred.

Fred looked up from adjusting the homemade rocket and eyed her in confusion. “Why? Don't you trust us?” he asked with a grin.

“Actually, she trusts you,” offered Inga. “It's your inventions that she's worried about. And the fact that you're using her boyfriend as a target.”

Fred glanced downrange to see George prancing around playfully, then he looked at the five foot long rocket with the erumpent fluid warhead and scratched his head. He stepped back from the large rocket and looked at the two girls. Helga stared back at him, looking very worried, while Inga tried to look encouraging.

Fred sighed. Then he stepped away from rocket and looked downrange at his brother again. “OY! Get up here!” he shouted.

A minute later George came trotting up to the three of them. “What's the problem? Something wrong with the rocket?” he asked in confusion.

Helga placed a hand on his arm. “No, George, but I don't see why you have to be the target for this thing,” she said, starting to get angry.

“You know, we could get Amy to do it,” George offered.

Fred blinked in surprise. “Is she back yet? I told you that the ejection charm on the broom was too powerful!”

“Oh, yeah, she came back two days ago. Did you know the muggles have put up some sort of box that people are living in that floats over the planet? Amy claims she saw it! Can you imagine anything so crazy?”

Fred and George started laughing at the idea, while the Johansen twins frowned at the two of them. Both girls had tried to explain some of the muggle advances before, without much success.

When Fred finally stopped laughing he looked around the work area. “So where is Amy, anyway?” he asked, unable to see her.

“Oh, she'll be in tomorrow, I think, I gave her the day off to go get her toes reattached,” replied George while he buffed one broken fingernail.

Helga and Inga looked at each other in horror.

Fred chuckled appreciatively and clapped his hands. “Right then, we'll postpone the test until tomorrow. Now then, what's next...”

Fred stopped as a wall panel dropped open and an alarm sounded. George dived for a cabinet and started pulling out dragon hide gloves and an apron. Through the open panel an owl flew in and dropped a smoking red letter into Fred's open hands. He blanched and dropped the letter in fear.

“NO!!! It will explode!” yelled George as he made a dive for the letter, catching just in time with one gloved hand.

The two Johansen twins looked at George fearfully. Neither had seen a howler before and from the reaction of Fred and George they knew this was something to be wary of.

The letter suddenly opened itself and levitated a few feet above George's hand.

“FRED AND GEORGE WEASLEY!” shouted a voice that was clearly Ginny's. “IF YOU DON'T SEND ME THE COUNTER TO THIS IMPOTENCY CURSE, I SWEAR I WILL CURSE YOUR DANGLY BITS TO BITE! THE NERVE OF YOU HEXING MY HUSBAND BEFORE WE LEAVE ON OUR HONEYMOON! WAIT UNTIL DAD HEARS ABOUT THIS, WHICH SHOULD BE IN ABOUT FIFTEEN MINUTES. I PROMISE YOU TWO YOU WILL RUE THE DAY YOU CROSSED ME. JUST WAIT UNTIL YOU GET MARRIED! I PROMISE YOU I WILL CURSE YOU WITH A COUNTER TO EVERY CONTRACEPTIVE CHARM IN EXISTENCE! NOW SEND ME THE COUNTER TO THIS CURSE THIS INSTANT OR I WILL APPARATE BACK THERE AND DEAL WITH YOU PERSONALLY!”

The letter then exploded, knocking everyone to the floor. Unfortunately, the explosion also ignited the fuse on the rocket. Fred rolled over to lay atop Inga, protecting her, as George did the same to Helga.

The rocket took off with a whoosh of sparks and a great cloud of smoke, causing everyone to cough.

Fred poked his head up and waved a hand trying to clear the smoke away enough to see. The door to the work area opened and Arthur Weasley stepped into the room, looking angry.

“Look out, Dad!” shouted Fred.

Arthur took one look and dived to the side as the rocket flew out the door. The door slammed shut, but a scream could be heard on the other side. A scream that sounded suspiciously like Amy, who'd obviously just come back from the hospital. Then the wall bulged ominously as the rocket exploded.

Arthur lifted his head and glared at his two sons before standing up. “Fred! George! I want a word with the both of you!”

Fred and George cringed and helped their girlfriends climb to their feet. They walked towards their father, protesting their innocence the whole way, as the Johansen twins eyed the smoking door in horror.

“That poor girl,” Inga whispered to her sister.

“I'm sure it was more than her toes, this time,” Helga agreed.





* * *



The Waldorf Astoria Hotel, New York City (August 3rd)...

Ginny sat at the breakfast table and drummed her fingers impatiently on the surface. She had sent a message to her brothers yesterday and she was still waiting for a reply. She looked fondly at the closed bedroom door where Neville lay, still sleeping. Despite being handicapped by an impotency curse, he had risen to the challenge, pleasuring her so many times on their wedding night and last night, but it wasn't enough! Ginny huffed a few times and mentally put her brothers under a slow testicle crushing hex. How dare they!

Neville was taking it a lot better than she expected. A Weasley would be punching holes in the walls or throwing things. But not Neville. In many ways, he reminded her so much of her father. He was soft spoken, easy going, quick to smile, but a real powerhouse when angered. Neville was their third best dueler in the Brotherhood behind Draco and Harry. She was sure that if Neville really wanted to, he could probably bypass Draco, he was that good.

He was her anchor and she recognized it. He calmed her on days when her abilities disturbed her, he helped her maintain a grip on her temper. Their personalities were so different, yet somehow they fit perfectly together.

She sighed and stared at the bedroom door again, feeling guilty. Since their handfasting, Neville had gone out of his way to give her pleasure, but she had been unable to return the favor, thanks to her prat brothers.

Their first encounter with the curse had been enough to pin the blame firmly where it belonged. She and Neville had arrived in New York City early enough for them to go out to dinner before retiring for the night. She had dressed with care, wanting to knock his socks off. The evening gown she'd chosen had shimmered with its own magic. It had several charms on it that she thought she might have to use, but the dress, coupled with her own, innate sensuality, had made them unnecessary.

Neville had come to bed wearing only a pair of boxers and when she got close enough he merely pulled her into an embrace that he held for a good five minutes before he started kissing her.

It was something that she had realized early on in their relationship. Like Harry, Neville had grown up with a family who didn't show affection well, and he craved it. He craved holding her and her touch and probably would for the rest of his life. He could hold her all day long as far as she cared. She felt safe, content and loved in his arms.

Neville took her to bed and began pleasuring her for what seemed like hours before he finally decided it was time. She eagerly helped him peel out of his boxers and as soon as he did, a cloud of green smoke emitted from his penis and he fell back onto the bed in shock.

The cloud rose above the bed and slowly formed into the words ,“Don't be silly, you can't use this Willy!”

She screamed and poor Neville fainted.

Ginny looked up in surprise when she heard scratching at the window and saw a long distance courier owl with a small package. She opened the window, letting the owl in. It flew to the table and landed and Ginny could have sworn she heard it sigh in relief.

“Let me see what you have,” she said kindly, then she removed the small package from it's talons. She poured some water into a dish and put a small plate of sausage in front of it before turning her attention to the package.

Opening the package she smiled seeing the letter from her father.

Ginny love,

I am pleased to tell you that this package contains the counter for that pesky curse. Your brothers are rather contrite and apologetic about it, but I told them it would probably be best that they waited until you got home before they groveled and begged for their lives.

Ginny snorted a laugh.

In truth, they are sorry. The potion to counter the curse was supposed to be packed in your belongings by Helga or Inga. But the other set of twins didn't like what our twins had in mind and figured that getting them in trouble with you would be a perfect prank in itself.

Give Neville his potion, the counter should work immediately, and so should Neville. (Are you blushing now, my daughter? Did you think Fred and George had the monopoly on teasing?) Please be safe. I know you'll be back soon, but I miss you and my new son-in-law.

With love,

Dad

“The window's open, eat and drink your fill, then let yourself out again,” she told the owl. Then, opening the small box, she looked at the dark liquid in the crystal vial. With the vial clutched in her hand, she strode into the bedroom.

She smiled when she saw Neville stirring.

“Good morning, Mr. Longbottom,” she said, bouncing on the bed next to him.

Neville smiled up at her and reached up to caress her cheek.

“Good morning.”

“Open your mouth, my love. The counter potion arrived a little while ago,” she said with a impish grin and she held up the vial.

Neville blinked in surprise, then opened his mouth. She poured the potion in and he instinctively swallowed, then grimaced at the taste. She handed him a glass of water, which he gratefully accepted.

“All better now?” she asked.

“I guess so... I hope this isn't another prank,” he said in an unsure tone.

Ginny straddled him, her gaze suddenly turning very predatory.

“Ginny?”

She ran her hands over his well muscled chest and closed her eyes.

“For nearly three days now you've left me a gasping heap on this bed using nothing more than your fingers and mouth. Well, now it's my turn for a little old fashioned Weasley revenge...”

Neville paled and swallowed nervously. She looked down at him and licked her lips. She'd been waiting for this moment for so long, she had the urge to rip his boxers off with her teeth.

Neville smiled weakly at her and ran one hand up her flank, causing her to shudder. She bent down and gently nipped at one of his nipples, causing him to suck his breath in. Neville pulled her closer and all thoughts of revenge on her brothers fled.





* * *



The Montmartre, Paris, (August 4th)...

It was war, plain and simple. Terry stepped from the building with Susan hanging on his arm. Both were blushing furiously. A casual passer-by might even think they were competing for the biggest blush. They had just finished their evening with a trip to the Moulin Rouge, a cabaret recommended by Hermione, and had been shocked to discover that the show was blatant in its sensuality and sexuality.

This was the culmination of their day. One which, despite having been recommended by Hermione, had turned out very successfully.

Terry tried to signal a cab, but he and Susan were laughing so hard it was difficult. Somehow during the show their newlywed status had been discovered and several show girls had come down before the show to teach Susan how to dance for her husband.

At first, Terry had thought the idea funny, but when Susan actually started to grind in his lap, he turned a wonderful shade of red. Privately, he had the courage to admit he rather liked what she was doing, but he would have preferred it to be in a less public place.

A cab finally pulled over in front of Terry and Susan and they piled into the backseat. Susan sprawled on the seat and laughed. She was more than a little tipsy.

“Hotel du Louvre,” Terry said, trying not to laugh at Susan and help her sit up.

The cabbie grinned in his rear view mirror and nodded.

Behind them, as the cab pulled away from the curb, a man stepped out of the shadows and watched with a feral grin.

“Hotel du Louvre,” he whispered. “Now we have them.”





* * *



Haven School (August 6th)...

Millicent Bulstrode looked up from her breakfast when she heard the soft sound of wings and watched two owls fly into the dinning hall. Her eyes narrowed when they flew to Jack Palmer and Mindy Joyner and delivered letters. This was the third morning delivery the two had received, and Millicent had been waiting for it.

As had become their habit, Palmer and Joyner stood up and left the hall quickly, letters clenched tightly in their hands. Once they'd left the hall, Millicent followed them, though her pace was slower. She knew their routine and knew where they were headed.

Once outside, Millicent turned away from the path to the owlery building and quickened her pace. The path she took would take her to a small grove of trees where she could conceal herself, but still see the owlery. Once there, she squatted down, pushed the anticipation she was feeling aside, and waited.

She didn't have to wait long. Two owls took wing from the owlery building. It was time to act.

Concentrating carefully, she formed a picture in her mind and focused her power inward. In just a matter of seconds, a sleek, fierce Gyrfalcon replaced the large, rather ugly looking young woman. With three hopping steps, she was airborne and winging her way towards the two owls. She remained behind the other birds, waiting for her moment. Once they'd passed over the school and out of sight of anyone watching from the windows, she acted.

With a quick burst of speed, she caught up with her pray. The owls, finally realizing they were being hunted, split up, and the falcon chose her target. Following closely, she increased her altitude slightly and, with a savage cry, reached out with her talons and sunk them deeply into the wing muscles of the owl.

With an screech of agony, the owl tried to turn and face his attacker. The falcon, realizing they were losing lift, clamped her talons tighter and beat her wings furiously. The owl struggled and, with a ripping sound, the falcon's talons were torn from his flesh. He tried to pump his wings to regain altitude, but found it useless. The letter clamped in his own talons fell from his grip as he plummeted towards the ground.

Swooping down, the falcon caught the letter and spiraled in a lazy circle for a moment, watching as the owl hit the ground and bounced. With a triumphant scream, the falcon dove towards the ground, landing lightly next to the motionless owl.

Releasing the letter, the falcon hopped onto the owl and tore into his feathers, stripping them off to reach the meat below.





* * *



Cairo, Egypt (August 6th)...

Harry approached Hermione and tried to wrap the long scarf around her head.

“What are you doing?” asked Hermione in confusion.

“Shhh... I'm getting you presentable,” he murmured, as he tied the large scarf over her head, covering her hair entirely. Then he transfigured her shorts and tank top into a full length heavy robe.

“But I don't understand,” she said, protesting the hot scarf and robes.

“We're going to see the library, but the culture is unlike any you're used to. Minerva and Filius both briefed me on this,” he replied, then he wrapped both arms around her, pulling her close to him. She felt a momentary sense of dislocation and knew he was apparating both of them someplace.

The dizziness quickly passed and she blinked in the blistering sunlight. Off in the distance she could make out the great pyramids of Giza. Nearby was a collection of tents, clustered around a small oasis. She could hear bells from a herd of goats and could see several small children tending the herd atop a nearby rise.

Harry grabbed her hand and led her forward, weaving his way in among the tents as if he was looking for something in particular. Finally, he stopped outside a tent and examined the markings along one side of the entrance.

“Say nothing unless someone speaks to you,” he whispered. Hermione bristled behind the hot scarf and robes she wore.

Still holding her hand, he walked forward, pulled aside the flap and entered the tent, pulling her in after him. Inside were several men, seated in a circle on plush cushions. In the center of the circle was a bowl filled with a pungent smelling sauce.

“Marharba,” Harry said, carefully pronouncing the unfamiliar word.

The oldest of the men looked up at Harry and smiled, showing many gold capped teeth.

“Ahlan wa sahlan,” he replied, before switching to English. “Please be seated. My house is your house during your stay.”

Harry led Hermione over to an open spot and he sat on the cushion. Hermione moved to sit next to him and he subtly shook his head at her. Her eyes flared behind her scarf and he winced internally. He was in so much trouble!

“You were expecting us?” Harry asked in surprise.

The old man laughed. “Yes. My good friend Filius owled us that you might be visiting. Please, Mrs. Potter, be seated. We appreciate your trying to accommodate our customs, but we are more cosmopolitan than our muggle counterparts. I am Sheik Alim Hosary, head of our Department of Magical Antiquities.”

Hermione sat next to Harry and shot him an angry glare before turning her attention back to their host and smiling gratefully. Harry had the grace to look apologetically at her.

“Your English is quite good, your Excellency,” she murmured.

Hosary smiled at her comment, then he turned and clapped his hands. A flap opened in the back of the tent and several young women entered, carrying bread and fruits. An older woman stood by the entrance and watched the girls carefully. Harry got the impression that the older woman was the one in charge of the girls.

“I graduated from Hogwarts in 1901, Mrs. Potter,” he said with a grin, “After that, I attended Cambridge. Come, let us eat and talk of business.”

Harry eyed the many women who were setting up the food. He had expected a Wizarding home, even if it was a tent, to be staffed with elves, not humans.

“I see you're noticing my wives, Mr. Potter. They are a great comfort to me in my old age,” Hosary said merrily. “When you have six wives, you will know what I mean.”

Harry blinked and a quick vision flashed before his eyes of multiple wives dressed in filmy scarves, then changed into a vision of Hermione dressed the same way. He shook his head trying to clear his thoughts.

“Do not get any ideas,” Hermione said in a quiet voice, though not quietly enough judging by Hosary's laughter.

“I wasn't... Well, not seriously,” Harry protested weakly.

“Good, because I don't share,” she replied primly.

Hosary eyed the two for a moment, his eyes danced with mirth over their comments. “Filius said you would be interested in visiting the library, yes?”

Harry nodded. “Yes, that is our desire. My wife is something of a scholar and since we were in the area we hoped we might be able to arrange a visit.”

Hosary raised his eyebrows at Harry's 'in the area' comment. The Egyptian Ministry was well aware they had come from Anafi. Then he nodded and gestured to one of the girls who came forward and offered him a tray from which he selected a small stone.

“The library is one of our greatest national treasures. We were fortunate that there were several powerful wizards on duty in the library the day Emperor Theodosius the First ordered all pagan temples, including the Library, destroyed. In desperation the head librarian, Achmed Assim, an arch mage, caused the library to sink into the harbor. His efforts not only put the library out of reach of the muggle defilers, but he protected the library by enveloping it in a protective bubble. He died saving his library, using the last of his magic to move thousands of scrolls from the muggle area of the library to the Wizarding one.

“Even thou