Unofficial Portkey Archive

The Death Eaters in the car park were startled by their bad luck and their good luck. What did Muggles call the contraption? A 'bond'... or 'bomb,' wasn't it? Whatever the name, the Muggle explosive device went off almost five minutes after it should have. They had been waiting in the shadows in the car park. They were about to Apparate to the office to make sure the Mudblood's father was dead and cast the Dark Mark, when Ted Granger had walked out of the lift, right in front of them. The leader of the two killers raised his wand and began the Killing Curse. He never finished, "Avada Keda-" because he was interrupted when Granger's mobile struck him in the nose. Though his nose was not broken, the impact was hard enough to cause both nostrils to bleed and to lacerate his right cheek. Tears clouded his view, but he raised his wand arm again to cast the spell. He looked down as his hand involuntarily let go of the wand. Oddly, his wrist was bleeding profusely. Then the pain arrived at his brain. He clutched his hand and began to scream. He would be completely self-absorbed with his wrist for a few moments.

Granger made for the second Death Eater. In the few seconds it took him to move to the other attacker, he wondered if they really thought those masks were scary. At most they resembled something slightly comical out of a Hammer horror movie. To him, they looked, as the Americans might say, "Halloween-ish." However, if your victims were terrified of you before you appeared, then these clownish masks would do. The dentist also wondered if he was too stupid to be afraid or if he was in the fighting zone, that place where your mind and body automatically did what needed to be done, and you only thought about being scared afterwards. Later, he would smile ruefully at the thoughts that had visited his mind in these horrible moments. He realized he was too far away for an identical attack as the first. He had hoped to cut this Death Eater along the wrist also. His daughter had told him that a wizard without a wand (or usable wand hand) probably could not hurt him, at least not with magic. He was working with all of the information he had and hoped it would be enough.

Clayton Nott was the younger brother of the inner circle Death Eater, Marcus Nott, and uncle to Theodore Nott, Slytherin in Hermione's year. Clayton was fascinated with the battle as it was progressing. His leader for this mission was at least temporarily incapacitated. Nott realized this was his chance to shine as a new Death Eater in the Dark Lord's service. Clayton assumed the formal stance of a wizard duelist and raised his wand. He took a moment to adjust to the Blainfield Wand Fighting Grip. He moved his three outer fingers and thumb so they were pointed down, with his index finger pointing along the top of the shaft. This grip gave him extra accuracy in directing the precise assault spells he used so fondly. When he looked back up, he noticed his target was closer than he'd expected him to be. That was strange. Nott had felt sure that the victim would be running away or cringing on the ground in terror. It must be that this Muggle was too ignorant to know he was about to die. Nott decided not to use any fancy spell-work. Go with the Killing Curse and be done with it. As he opened his mouth to cast the spell, he realized his grip on his wand had loosened for some reason. By the time Nott realized that the first six inches of his wand had been cut off, along with the first two joints of his index finger, he was barely able to register that the blade that had destroyed his wand was moving swiftly towards his throat. Did this Muggle expect to kill him? Clayton Nott did not have enough time left with a functioning brain to determine what the intentions of his target had been.

Ted Granger, covered in the gory results of his actions, but physically unharmed, spun around before Nott had fallen. Now his shirt was red in back as well as the front the spray. Granger returned to the first attacker whose back was still turned to him. The gentle dentist finished his first assailant as he had the second. He dropped the body and reached down for the wand, snapping it in his hands. No wand, no wand spells. That seemed simple enough to him and he liked to be thorough. Granger heard two quick pops and turned to see two more men in robes with wands raised, too far away to assault as he had these. At this distance, the highly trained and experienced warrior knew the odds were that he would fail in the end, but his old sergeant had always told him that the SAS was never sent in until the odds were that they would all be killed anyway. The former knife-fighting champion threw the Fairbairn with all of his might and accuracy and headed towards the wizards, hoping that they might be as incompetent in a street fight as the first two.

Harry was climbing the walls. He found himself nearly hyperventilating, his heart racing thinking about Hermione even being hurt, much less dead.

HERMIONE!

He recalled seeing her unconscious, perhaps even dead, in the Department of Mysteries. His world was almost shattered at that moment. Neville finding a pulse had kept him from giving up right then. However, he'd thought little of her in that state from moments afterwards, when Sirius went through The Veil. Now all of this came crashing down into his mind, and his anguish redoubled again.

He had to try to think logically.

The four Order of the Phoenix members had been gone less than ten minutes, and he knew, he KNEW it was too early for them to return with any information. But he also knew that they would know by now if the Grangers had already been attacked.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized that if the Grangers were all right, the four would be busy setting up wards or transferring them to a safe location or something. So he told himself that the longer he didn't hear from the four who'd just left, the better. "AARRGGHH!!" Forget logic. All that might be so, but he could not wait without trying something. Hermione and her safety replaced all his other thoughts. His desperation exploded into action. He pointed his wand at himself and cried. "Apparate!" "Harry, dear, what are you doing?" asked Mrs. Figg. The concern on her face told that she knew full well what he was attempting. "Apparato!" Harry shouted. "Harry, please don't." "Apparaticus!" Nothing, again. His wail of pain frightened Mrs. Figg more than his initial barging into her home. There was nothing more that she could do. "Transfero!" "Transferindo!" "Harry, they never say anything. They just get a far away look in their eyes and vanish." She realized that little bit of information might be enough to splinch him to death if it did not work. But this was Harry Potter - the Boy-That-Always-Lived-Through-Everything-Thrown-His-Way. He always accomplished the impossible, somehow. She lowered her gaze and stood back, and just as she raised her eyes again, she saw the most intense look of concentration she had ever seen. There occured the loudest Disapparation noise she had ever heard. It sounded as if time and space were being insulted right there in her sitting room. Harry vanished before her eyes.

Madge Granger heard her daughter scream, "Run!" and she heard the explosion of the door blowing in. Of course she did not run. Over 99% of the mothers in England would have either run to protect their children in some way or just run away. Few would have reacted as Hermione's mother reacted. She was in the kitchen. She reached up onto the top of the refrigerator and swatted the fruit bowl and its contents onto the floor. She pulled down the oddest contrivance in the house other than some of her daughter's magical paraphernalia. Most of her wizarding devices were not as foreign to a suburban home as the MAC-10 machine pistol she expertly cradled in her arms as she ran to the living room. The MAC-10 had been designed and manufactured by an American company. It was not very accurate except at close quarters. It was poorly balanced and the silencer, which was longer than the 10.5" gun, made the weapon even more unbalanced unless you practiced with it. While still in dental school, Ted and Madge had married and had moved into his flat in the same questionable part of town. Even before marriage, he had bought the MAC-10, not because he liked it, but because he knew its light weight could be managed by his fiance with practice. He attached a crude wooden handle to the silencer to help with balance and control. The handle was not conducive to proper cooling for long-term firing, but that was not the issue. Everything Ted imagined they could face would be over before one clip of 32 bullets was fired. It was illegal to own a machine pistol like the MAC-10 in England. Ted Granger, like most soldiers, had a profound respect for the law. But the former SAS member was not about to let a little thing like the law stand in the way of his family's safety. Before they were married, he took Madge out to the SAS training range. Former SAS members were allowed to use the range in off hours and he made sure she knew how to fire the gun as accurately as possible. The SAS did not condone civilians breaking the gun laws of the land, but the sergeant that managed the range had read about Granger's battle with gang members - and everyone in the SAS knew about Ted Granger. Madge Granger did not like guns at all; they scared her. But she had known her new husband-to-be was right. She would never be able to make herself into a knife fighter - it was too gruesome, too up close and personal. The first time she fired the MAC-10 she barely kept the gun within a 90-degree arc, but after several weekend trips to the range, she was accurate enough to hit a man somewhere on his body if he was within 30 feet of her. She was deadly within ten feet.

Flashback to September of 1978 - Director's Office - Public Prosecutions Building "Come in, Inspector, come in. You have completed the investigation, I assume?" "Yes, sir, General, sir!" The inspector demonstrated his heritage with his crashing heels, severely straightened back, and shouted response. "Or is it Court Advocate or Prosecutor, now, sir?"

" I never read law, as you know, Inspector. Just like it is now 'Inspector,' I am Assistant Chief Executive in administration." There was no annoyance in his voice. "I suppose you could call me 'Executive,' but 'sir' will be sufficient. You have finished your investigation and that is the report?"

"Er, Yes, sir, Executive." With the slightest turn of one corner of his mouth, and with a bit of awkwardness, he took the manila folder from under his right arm and handed it to the other man.

The senior official read it quickly because there was little to read. "So, officially we have an unknown attacker with a machine pistol killing violent and murderous gang members and other such dregs of society?"

"It's all in the report, sir."

After reading the brief, the commissioner observed, "We have no idea why Tommy Peet went to that building or that particular flat. The fact that his brother, Tony Peet, died a few hundred yards away is irrelevant. While some unknown vigilante, as the Americans call them, is putting an end to Peet the Elder's latest crime spree, Ted Granger falls from a ladder while painting the walls of his and his new bride's new flat, breaking his arm, so he cannot be a suspect. The fact that Peet's bullet-riddled corpse was found in Granger's former flat is also irrelevant."

The commissioner did not look up as he finished his observations from the report. The inspector remained silent, assuming the comments were rhetorical questions if questions at all.

After several more moments of silence he said, "Excellent work, Inspector. Excellent. I am sure this will finish the matter."

The inspector crashed immediately to attention. "Sir!" He then turned to leave the office. When he reached the door, he was stopped by nine words.

"Sergeant Major, please close the door. Please be seated."

After closing the door and while returning to the chair, the inspector said quietly, "Yes, sir, General."

They stared at each other expressionlessly for several moments. Without a word, the Commissioner/General opened a drawer and drew out a bottle and two glasses. When he handed one to the other he said, "To absent comrades."

"They were the best of us, sir."

When they placed the emptied glasses back on the desk, the former general refilled them. The former sergeant major spoke unbidden, "The Grangers had removed all but his trunk from his old flat earlier that day. They had returned after midnight to retrieve it, away from prying eyes. Apparently, Peet crashed in the door, paper-thin it was, and Granger went to face him. Peet broke his arm with a pipe, the ruffian's weapon of choice, and was about to cave in his skull or some other body part when Mrs. Granger put six out of nine bullets in him from less than eight feet.

"Nice bit of shooting that, especially with a MAC-10, but then the sergeant that runs the range, he's the one that identified the gun make, said that she had improved handsomely over the previous few weekends.

"All of this is informed speculation, of course, but I believe that the young bride dragged the trunk to his former neighbor's, Mrs. Abernathy. Our Ted Granger had prevented the sixty-seven year old woman from being mugged the previous spring. Mrs. Abernathy is the one who alerted the authorities. Stated that she'd heard the sound of the breaking door, said that the sound woke her from her sleep - nearly stone deaf, she is. When I interviewed her, I noticed that she had a trunk-shaped low table covered by a braided rug in the corner with boxes, magazines, and whatnot haphazardly scattered on it and falling off. Rest of her flat was as neat as a pin.

"As the constables showed up to investigate, the Grangers made a big show of walking out, favoring his broken arm. They both had plenty of dry paint splatters on them and a few wet ones. Upon inspection of the Granger's new flat, there was all the makings of a fall from a ladder while painting."

The inspector/sergeant major finished his recitation and remained silent. Both men looked into each other's eyes for a moment. They finished their fourth glass.

The commissioner/general spoke, "Sir Cyril Philips is forming the cadres for his Royal Commission on Criminal Procedure. He has asked me to join its ranks. The Crown Protective Service he proposes will in due time eliminate the chance for such activities. Inspector, are you prepared to be incarcerated for this fallacious report, if need be? For my part in this, I will pay the price, if need be."

With the alcohol and the memories the former sergeant major's speech loosened, "Portsmouth would be a bleedin' holiday compared to the cell I would've been in if i' t'weren't for Granger. Bleeding Cong. With this," he tapped his right arm; it made an odd hollow sound, "I'd've never survived. Brought us all out... even your son, God, rest his soul."

The former general swallowed. "I never saw Granger receive the recognition he deserved. His country... we... I owe him. This is small recompense...."

"He received that medal 'cause o' you, General. Even if i' t'weren't published for all to see. He's not facin' charges 'cause o' you, sir. He'd get off, but it 'uld played bloody havoc with his schoolin'."

The general spoke with anguish in his voice. "It should have been THE medal, here in England, not just a medal off in some forgotten corner of the Commonwealth." For several long moments, they both stared at their glasses, recently refilled. The Major General/Executive said, "Tony and Tommy Peet don't have any more brothers, cousins, uncles, or anyone else that might seek revenge- do they, sergeant major?"

"No, sir." The former general stood and the former sergeant major with him. "To absent comrades," said the ramrod straight former major general.

"They were the best of us, sir. And Granger. Finest bloody, bleedin' knife fighter I've ever seen, includin' me in '42."

With a firing rate of 1600 rounds per minute, the MAC-10 would empty its thirty-two bullet clip in 1.2 seconds. The night before the attack, Ted had dry fired the gun with Madge enough to bring back her proficiency at releasing quick, controlled bursts. As Mrs. Granger rounded the corner, she saw that Hermione was down and out of the line of fire. Everything in Mother Madge wanted to run to her daughter's side and tend to her. Warrior Madge knew that such an action would be fatal to Hermione and herself. Madge knew the sound of the Killing Curse meant she had fractions of a second to save her daughter. The first burst of ten rounds sent three bullets into the wall and doorframe. Another two bullets flew through the doorway and out of the house to who knew where. Three bullets lodged in the chest of new Death Eater, Cyrus Pangborn - two in his lungs and one in his heart. One bullet caught him in the throat. The Killing Curse died on his lips, unfinished. Madge tried to conserve ammunition with the next burst. She held it to seven rounds so she would have more slugs for the second Death Eater. Because Pangborn was falling backwards, three of those seven rounds entered his cranium from under his chin. He was dead from several causes before he hit the ground. One round from her second burst passed by the first attacker and hit the second in his left shoulder. This was Arbuthnot Pew. Pew was a very experienced Death Eater and a skilled duelist. He would not panic in battle and his reflexes were finely honed. "Expelliarmus!" and the machine pistol went flying out of the woman's hands. Pew had been sent to this house because it was known that the young witch would be here. He felt his experience was wasted on a student, and a Mudblood at that, but she had been trained in defense by Harry Potter. Potter had faced the Dark Lord on more than one occasion and lived. Pew had taken no chances and had sent Pangborn in first. He'd considered the young Death Eater as "expendable." However, Pangborn's suggestion of using the doorbell - an idea from the one year of Muggle Studies the lad had told no one of - had brought the young witch into easy range. The pain in Pew's shoulder was blinding, so he raised his wand to ease his suffering. After all, the woman had not only lost her weapon, she had fallen on her face as the gun flew out of her hands. He could take a moment to relieve his agony before killing the two of them. Big mistake. Madge Granger's self-defense tactics were in the best tradition of the SAS. You do not have to defend yourself from someone who is dead. She had not fallen. Madge took a flying roll to confuse her attacker and came up feet first into Pew. Her left foot hit him first, right in his face. His nose was broken and the pain in his shoulder was forgotten. Then Mrs. Granger's right foot connected powerfuly with Pew's stretched neck. He wouldn't last long unless an emergency tracheotomy was performed. The mother lion had seen her cub attacked, and merciful first-aid was not in her plan. Madge took Pew's wand, broke it, and stabbed the sharpest end deeply through Pew's left eye socket. Madge took a deep breath and decided she would be scandalized by her actions later. She turned and ran to Hermione's side and started to lift the heavy door off of her. Her daughter had a look of shock on her face. Hermione's sweet mother, who'd baked cookies with her, had tucked her in, and had told her bedtime stories, had just killed two Death Eaters in less than twenty seconds. "POP. POP."

Mrs. Granger turned and saw the largest wizard she had ever seen pointing his wand at her. She realized she would probably not save her life or her daughter's, but Ted had told her to refuse to give up until several minutes after she had died. After all, by all conventional wisdom in this highly unconventional scenario, she should have died long before this.

As she launched herself towards the first wizard, it registered in the back of her mind that Hermione was shouting her name.

Thankfully, Bill Weasley turned to face Ted Granger at just the right moment. It wasn't that Mad-Eye Moody couldn't have blocked the thrown knife, but he had to see the knife to block it. Moody appeared facing in the wrong direction to see the blade coming at them. Bill had learned a wordless wand flick charm to deal with sharp projectiles instantly hurled his way. The dangers of going into newly discovered chambers below pyramids were not limited to ancient and unknown curses. Poisonous darts were a fifteenth century B.C. Egyptian favorite. Ted was on his way to attack the wizards by hand as soon as he'd released his knife. Bill went into a defensive posture and was about to stun him when Mad-Eye pushed Bill's wand down and lowered his own. Moody said, "Ted. We are friends of Hermione." The familiar use of his first name, the lowered wands, and the cautious friendliness in the words from this very odd looking, older wizard stopped Granger. He assumed an attack posture right before them. They were not wearing the Death Eating clown masks. "I am Bill Weasley. My brother Ron is a friend of Hermione's. Notice the red hair," he said as he swung his ponytail around to make the obvious even more so. In one fluid motion, Mr. Granger stooped to grab his knife and reinserted it into his arm sheath. All of a sudden, a terrifying thought occurred to the dentist and he nearly shouted, "My family!" "We have sent two of our best there to protect them." Moody spoke as if the subject was closed. They were walking towards the bodies but Ted was still looking at the two wizards warily. Ted patted his hip where he kept his phone and started looking around saying, "Where's my mobile?" Bill noticed the device and called "Accio Mobile!" Bill gingerly handed the blood covered mess to Granger who grabbed it as if nothing was different about it from any other day. He speed dialed home and received a busy signal. The phone at his house had been disabled in the fracas. Absentmindedly he put it on his belt clip with a distant look on his face. "Can you vanish us there or something?" Bill looked at Moody who spoke, "It is called Apparation. Normally we would need permission to Disapparate a Muggle, but I don't care about that under these circumstances. But Granger, it's very dangerous for you. It's a 50/50 proposition that you'll be hurt in someway with only two of us trying to Apparate you there." "Let's do it!" His desperation was obvious. "I don't recommend it. I sent two of my best..." In a flash that impressed the rarely impressible Mad-Eye Moody, the Fairbairn was at his throat, tip pressed at his jugular. Moody's mad eye was whirling, and even though Granger was terrified because of that eye, he did not show it. Moody frowned for a second and then said, "I met Inspector Fairbairn once, before the war. He'd be proud of you. Put it away. You'll need the use of both hands to do this."

As Madge Granger launched herself into the air to hit the larger wizard, two things happened to lessen her vicious assault. Kingsley Shacklebolt dropped his wand and opened his hands to her. She also heard her daughter say the word "friends." She was in the air with no way to stop, but now she did not want to hurt the man she was going to collide with. He caught her wrists and stopped their heads from butting, but their bodies thudded together. Though slightly winded, she uncoiled from his reach and headed towards her daughter. A spell had the door flying off Hermione before her mother reached her side. Mrs. Granger hesitated for a moment and plunged down beside her. Now that this second fight had been averted, Hermione returned to the shock of seeing, at close range, her mother efficiently and dispassionately dispatch two Death Eaters. "Mum... How did you... Where did you get that... You killed..." Hermione was badly shaken and her eyes were not exactly focused, though pointed at her mother. "Hermione. Are you all right? Don't think about those bad men. They're never going to attack anyone again. Where are you hurt?" "Mum. Where'd you learn to...?" "Baby, don't worry about it. Your father was in the army. He taught me how to defend myself before you were born. I'll tell you all about it later. But we have to get you to a doctor." Hermione stared into her mother's eyes for a few moments and then shook her head, took a deep breath, and said, "I'm really fine, Mum. I was dazed, but I have no broken bones or serious cuts, just a few minor scratches and bruises. I was merely immobilized by the door's weight." Mrs. Granger quickly but expertly examined her daughter from head to toe, saw she was fine indeed, and gave her a big hug. The girl would have several hideous bruises on her upper arms, but bruises fade. All during this brief examination Hermione was chattering nervously as the adrenalin of the moment faded, "Mum, you were magnificent. Where'd you get a machine gun? How'd you learn to use it? Was that Kung Fu?" "I'll tell you about that in a minute. Gentlemen, will you watch my daughter for a moment?" She hurried down the hall and soon they heard obvious retching sounds. They heard the water running for a bit and then she returned. Madge had a bit of toothpaste on one side of her mouth, but the bloodstains distracted the viewer from that fact. There was a loud crack, not a pop, and everyone went into action. Madge Granger rolled to the machine pistol and came up with it cradled in her arms. Lupin and Shacklebolt spread out with their wands drawn. Moody and Bill Weasley came out of a circle and drew their wands as well. The most startling sight was Ted Granger, still bloodied red all over most of his upper body and face. He was squatting in an attack stance, the Fairbairn was drawn, and luridly red also. Hermione screamed and ran to her father. "You're hurt! Don't worry. I know several blood flow stemming spells and we can get you to St. Mungo's." His daughter was still in shock, to a degree, from the multiple shocks of her parents' most recent activities.

Mr. Granger looked to Moody who nodded as he lowered his wand. The knife was quickly sheathed and her father said, "This is someone else's blood. I'm not scratched, but that trip scared the he-, well, it scared me. My head's ringing like an all night drunk. Are you okay, Pumpkin? Madge?"

He saw the machine pistol and the bodies but no bullet holes were readily visible. He looked to Shacklebolt. Granger assumed Kingsley was the leader of this team because of his size. "Did she do this or did you?" The large Auror said, "The scariest thing about this assignment was coming face-to-face with your wife before she drew back her claws." Then to Moody, he said, "I'll go back to the Ministry and send Handlers for the bodies. Can I assume I'll find the same thing only different at his office?" "The office was blown up with no one in it." Moody related. "In the car park below the building you'll find two Death Eaters and a mess that makes him look sparkling white. We covered them with a Disillusionment Charm but you should be able to find the scene easily. Granger had killed both of the Death Eaters with his bloody great Fairbairn knife, pun intended, before we had arrived." Kingsley nodded and was gone in a pop. Hermione's mind was reeling with this latest report. "Daddy, how'd you kill two Death Eaters? When did you train Mummy to use a machine gun? I thought you were a medical orderly in the army." She had not called her parents "Mummy" and "Daddy" in nearly ten years. "Not exactly, Baby. I was trained as a field medical orderly in the SAS in the army. I was trained to do more than tend wounds," he said with a rueful smile. Moody turned in all earnestness to the family, "You have time to change but not to clean up." There was a hugely violent loud ripping crack, not a pop, and once again weapons were drawn. At the opposite end of the living room there was a mantle over a fireplace. For a second Harry Potter was poised on that mantle, bent at the waist, wand drawn. He shouted in pain, fell off the mantle, and rolled onto the floor. Continuing the roll and coming up onto his feet, he stepped quickly to his friend. Harry and Hermione embraced very warmly. For just one moment they looked into each other's eyes. Madge Granger noticed this, and so did Remus Lupin. The others probably did not.

Then Harry remembered why he was there, and pulled back from her. Desperately he asked, "Are you all right, Hermione?" He looked at the bodies, the blood, and the destruction and said, "Oh." Once again, he had raced to the rescue when none was needed.

Hemione, still feeling the effects of the adrenalin of the last few minutes, finally realized the means by which Harry had appeared. "Harry, how'd you Apparate here? You don't know how. You're too young." Hermione never ceased to point out to Harry what he could not do. Just because Harry had already done what she said was impossible had never stopped her. "I just wanted to know you were okay. I've been stupid again." He lowered his head and his voice, and was about to go back into the funk he had been living in for the last few weeks. The frantic look on Hermione's face showed that she knew not what to say to ease his pain.

"Nonsense!" Moody quietly roared. "Potter, your actions in this affair have been commendable." Then to all he said, "He forced us to act quicker than we ever would have. If there'd been Death Eater reinforcements arriving at either scene we would have been essential. No way to know, Potter, that the Grangers are death on Death Eaters. Finest bit of non-magical fighting I've ever heard of. Would be an Order of Merlin in it for you if I had anything to say about it."

Moody looked up. "Potter, are those the seat of your trousers up there in the wall? How did you Apparate here?" Harry put his hands to the seat of his trousers. His eyes widened and he began to back away from Hermione. "Erm, I tried every Apparate-sounding word as a spell I could think of but none of them worked. I finally just closed my eyes and concentrated on this living room as hard as I could. The only picture I'd ever seen of it had been taken from the view of the mantle at Christmas time. I thought I'd appear where I was looking, not where I was looking from." Had he arrived three inches farther back, Harry would have been seriously wounded. At that exact moment, an owl flew through the smashed door, circled Harry, dropped a sealed parchment, and swooped out. Harry opened it but knew what it said. He read it quickly and looked even lower than he had before. "I'm to be expelled and have my wand confiscated because I used magic once again while underage." A second owl entered the broken door, circled Moody, and dropped him a note before exiting. He opened it and reported its content. Mad-Eye said, "Shacklebolt intercepted the confiscation team and warned them of the Death Eater attacks and the chances of a second attack at this location. They were grateful for his "suggestion" that they were not needed here. He told them to report that Dumbledore would be by to explain everything soon. You're cleared for now, Potter, and you'll be fully pardoned soon. But it looks like you're still on Fudge's persona non grata list." Moody cleared his throat to change the subject. "I was saying before you arrived so ceremoniously, Potter, that the Grangers need to pack and leave at once. As Shacklebolt said, more Death Eaters might still appear at any moment when this lot doesn't report back. Grangers, go pack a quick bag. You can change but not wash. You can clean up soon enough where we're going." Madge and Hermione wanted to protest but Ted understood right away. One word from him and his family was back downstairs in less than five minutes with their essentials. In addition to some of their clothing and other personal objects, Hermione had two large book bags and her father had shouldered his dusty old chest. He was decked out in a non-descript all black outfit and was also wearing a harness waistcoat rig with a number of throwing knives attached and several bulging pockets. "More tricks of the trade," he said with a decidedly maniacal smile. Mrs. Granger was carrying two clothing bags. She said, "What about this mess, the bodies, and the doorway?" Lupin, Bill, and Moody pulled their wands and in ten seconds the door was repaired, the bodies were arranged on a plastic sheet, and the blood and destruction were gone. Finally, Mr. and Mrs. Granger were amazed by an event of the day. Moody growled once again, "You were going on holiday tomorrow so you won't be missed by neighbors, friends, or co-workers for several weeks. We'll have to watch this place to see if Voldemort does send others. There's a lot to ponder. You'll have to go to an Order hiding place temporarily - for your own safety. We may end up taking you to Hogwarts. I don't know." All of a sudden, his normal eye brightened and his magical eye straightened in its socket. "What would you two think about teaching hand-to-hand combat, street fighting, and any other nasties to Aurors and Magical Law Enforcement Officers? I know I'd like to learn more about how you did this." The senior Grangers looked at each other. They were a bit confused now that the excitement of the moment was draining off. They would feel completely exhausted in less than a half hour. Moody saw their hesitation and assured them they need not reply right away. "Well, I'll have to talk to a number of people to arrange it - something that commonsensical is too practical to garner much Ministry support without a lot of effort. I'll ask you in a few days when you're rested and more settled. I'll know better then what's possible. You two are now on the top of Voldemort's Most Hated Muggles List regardless of whether he has such a list or not, so your options'll be limited." The three Grangers shared concerned looks. Before they could begin asking questions, Remus Lupin urged that they leave. "Professor Moody, how are we traveling to-, I mean, the place?" Harry remembered at the last second that only Dumbledore, the Order's Secret Keeper for twelve Grimmauld Place, could give out the address. "We are going by Knight Bus." Then the old Auror continued muttering to himself loudly enough for all to hear, "Never taught a minute at Hogwarts, yet dozens of teenagers come up to me and jump right into conversations I am supposed to understand." "Oh? One second please." Hermione ran to the kitchen and came back with a water bottle and a small medicine tin. "Motion sickness pills." Bill cautiously walked out to the street and everyone crowded at the door. "Wands and weapons out, ladies and gentlemen. 'Constant vigilance' I always say." Bill raised his wand hand and the purple bus almost ran over his foot. The precarious assemblage of wands, baggage, knives, and a machine pistol scurried to the bus. "Welcome to the Knight Bus - 'ey, thems is Muggles. You can't take Muggles on th' Knight Bus! This'un will get blood oll over..." "Shut it, Shunpike. Get this bus headed to you-know-where, Ernie. Move it!" "Yus sir, Mr. Moody, sir," said Ernie, and the Bus was off like a shot. "I'll take a pill," said Mrs. Granger to her daughter. Hermione was already drinking from the water bottle to swallow her pill. Mr. Granger smiled queasily and nodded in her direction. Stan said, "Oi. 'arry Potter. Choo know yer bum's showin'?" Harry flipped around and blushed red enough to compete with a Weasley. "It's not my bum. I'm wearing pants."