Muggle Summer
A/N: It's time for me to issue another periodic notice that this story operates with a pushed-forward timeline. It is the Summer of 2006, and Harry et. al have finished their sixth year. So…Tony Blair is Prime Minister, devolution is old news, and the HVAC System-Gone-Wild (aka the Scottish Parliament building) stands in stark contrast to the Palace at Holyroodhouse.
Disclaimer: Not my characters, no money being made, etc., etc.
Chapter 55: Hooray for Holyrood
Sunday, July 8, 7:00am
Chamber of Secrets, Hogwarts
Remus Lupin woke from his post-transformation nap and took stock of his situation. Not finding any immediate issues beyond the usual aches and pains, he left the lair of the recently butchered basilisk and walked into Slytherin's Apartment, where he had placed his Art Club badge for safe keeping. After activating the badge he asked, "Tonks?"
"Good morning, Remus."
"Is it?"
"Depends on your perspective. How do you feel?"
"Sore, as usual, but the wolvesbane worked, the Chamber had room to run, and the goblin snacks hit the spot."
"Great...any venison steaks left for me?"
"Sure, if you don't mind meat lathered in werewolf spit."
"Well, I have swapped spit with a werewolf before."
"Yeah, but did you mind?"
Tonks laughed into her badge. "Jump upstairs and I'll show you."
"Thanks, but I'm still feeling rather wolfish."
"And that's a problem because….?"
"Right. Are you in bed, or do I need to get dressed?"
"No on both questions…I'm in our suite, but you've got work to do, and the clothes you'll need are up here."
Remus replied by badge-jumping to the Auror's position. After a hug, he asked, "So what did I miss?"
"A lot," replied Tonks. She pointed towards a muggle shirt, tie and suit that she'd laid out for him. "So get dressed…Wally will fill in some of the details when you get to 10 Downing Street."
"The muggle Prime Minister's?" Remus asked. "What in Merlin's name will I be doing there?"
Tonks smiled as she handed him his muggle identification badge. "Discovering that your MI-5 credentials are no longer fake, I imagine."
7:00am, The Rookery, London
Lucius Malfoy woke from his miserable bit of rest and took stock of his situation. He then sat up within the only windowless room of his Rookery flat and called for the concierge.
"Gilbert?"
The house-elf popped into the lavatory and looked down upon the one-armed wizard, who lay fully-clothed within an empty bathtub.
"You called, Patriarch Malfoy?"
"Yes, Gilbert…what has happened over the past few hours?"
The house-elf replied, "We have finished repairing the building's structural damage, as well as the interior damage done to the dead patriarch's apartment. The patriarch's body has been taken away, according to the rules. We also delivered the body of the dead witch."
Malfoy nodded. Over the years three other patriarchs and more than thirty of their "guests" had died within the Rookery's walls. Procedures were in place to move bodies out of the building in order to preserve secrets held by both the deceased and the other patriarchs.
"So how did this happen, Gilbert?" Malfoy demanded.
"We are…not certain," the house-elf replied carefully. "The Club is consulting with the goblins that designed the protective wards."
Malfoy shook his head. The house-elf had been tight-lipped about the attack, and refused to identify who had died, or even which floor of the building had been affected. That said, that same level of reticence was something he was counting on to keep his own presence there a secret.
"Is there anything else I can do for you, Patriarch Malfoy?"
The elder Malfoy nodded as he sat up in the tub. Deciding that he'd be able to manage most morning foods without need of a knife, he ordered breakfast-in-bath and spent the balance of the morning considering if there was a safer place to hide.
10:30am, Salisbury, Wiltshire
Lord Voldemort left his recently upgraded living quarters to join the Death Eaters that had portkeyed back with him to his hideout.
"What is the latest news?" he demanded, as the flaps of the stolen magical tent closed behind him.
"Still no sign of Rookwood and the Carrows, my lord," Bellatrix replied. She then added, "And we have still to hear from Fenrir, although…."
"Yes, Bella?"
Taking comfort in the belief that her master still couldn't hurl unforgivables with impunity, she replied, "The Daily Prophet reports that the werewolf attacks failed."
Had the snake-skinned wizard actually had eyebrows, they would have risen towards his hairline (had the wizard actually had hair).
How so?"
"Well, several werewolves were found dead in the blood-traitor's Diagon Alley shop, but the blood-traitors still live." She then added, "And while the Prophet reports that their hovel of an ancestral home in Devonshire was destroyed, their family still lives."
"So what of Greyback and the others?"
"The pack apparently attacked two muggle farms, but there have been no other sightings."
Voldemort fingered his wand, but took no action. He turned his back to Bella and walked over towards the tables filled with the previous night's plunder and stated, "No matter, the werewolves will soon be all dead."
"Why is that, my lord?"
The Dark Lord winced at the impudence of the Death Eater who had just questioned his assessment.
"Bedford, come here."
"Yes, my lord."
As the Death Eater approached the Dark Lord grabbed a beater bat taken from the Quidditch supply shop, turned, and clubbed the man in the face. Blood spurted out of the minion's nose as he crumpled to the ground unconscious.
Voldemort set the bat down and reached into a robe pocket for a deck of cards that he himself had charmed the night previous.
"Is he still alive?" he asked.
One of his other Death Eaters nervously squatted down and felt for a pulse.
"Yes, my lord."
"Good…then strip him."
As the other Death Eaters rushed to obey their leader Voldemort pulled a specific card from the pack. Once the prone Death Eater was down to only his pants, the Dark Lord placed the playing card on wizard's bare chest and touched it with his wand. The body disappeared as the code word activated the portkey.
"I wonder if he knows how to swim?" mused Voldemort.
"You sent him to the bottom of the sea, my Lord?" asked Bella.
"No, just the opposite," he replied. "A mile or so above it."
"Now...to answer the recently departed's question," Voldemort said, "All magical beasts and beings were warned that the goblins would go to war with any that dared attack muggles. Now that the werewolves are at war with the Goblin Nation, I expect that the packs will be culled most severely."
Bella choked down a question that would have asked if that was a good thing.
Not really wishing to kill somebody else just to reestablish his authority, Voldemort answered what Bella didn't voice.
"How many werewolf packs are there in Britain?"
The Death Eaters looked at each other. MacNair finally answered for them. "Besides Fenrir's pack, there are at least a half-dozen packs of muggle werewolves."
Voldemort nodded. "And do you think that the muggles will know that they have werewolves within their filthy populations?"
"No," said the Dark Lord, answering his own question. "So let us assume that the goblins will be smart enough to attack the muggle werewolf packs on any night other than the night of the full moon."
Bella's eyes lit up in understanding. "The muggles, and probably the Ministry as well, will think that the goblins are killing muggle humans."
"And so their impudence is rewarded," Voldemort concluded. "The Ministry will go to war with the goblins if for no other reason than to keep the wizarding world's secrets safe from the muggles."
"Which takes their eyes off of us, and lets the muggles think that any of our attacks or raids were done by the goblins," added Bella.
The Dark Lord nodded as he pocketed the deck of portkeys, grabbed the bat and asked, "So, does anyone else have a question?"
When (predictably) nobody responded, he began issuing orders.
"Nott, take the train back up to London and find out what is happening around the Rookery."
"Yes, my lord."
"Snape, you've got the potion ingredients you said you needed, so why aren't you brewing?"
"I have three pots on the simmer now, my lord."
"Then go…as for the rest of you…I have some research that needs to be performed….MacNair?"
'Yes, my lord."
"Take a group of four and five up to the Ministry and start scouting for polyjuice targets."
"As you wish, my lord."
"Bella, take the rest and figure out how to make a house unplottable….these dispersed accommodations and the inability to use magic freely is starting to annoy me."
1:45pm, Round Castle, Windsor Castle
Ron Weasley's voice boomed through Hermione's Art Club badge just as soon it was activated.
"Oy, Hermione, are they still serving lunch down in the Mess Hall?"
"Ssshhh!" she whispered into the badge. "I already woke Harry up once today!"
"Oh, sorry," Ron whispered back. "So…about lunch?"
Hermione shook her head as she folded and placed the last piece of packed clothing into her trunk. It wasn't until she left their bed chambers that she replied to Ron's question, and allowed him to badge-jump back from his quick trip to the wizarding world.
"Dobby left some food under stasis charms down in our common room," she told Ron.
"Thanks, Hermione," he replied, as he walked down the stairs to the apartment's main floor.
"Good to see you too, Ron," Hermione replied.
Ron's apology was muffled by his wizard robes as he pulled them over his head and threw them on the back of a chair.
"Make yourself at home, Ron."
"Oh, thanks, Hermione," he replied, missing the slight edge of sarcasm.
In between mouthfuls of shepherd's pie, Ron told Hermione that his family was doing as best as could be expected. Headmistress McGonagall had opened up Hogwarts and placed them in guest quarters. Madame Pomfrey was now keeping an eye on both Molly and Fleur (whose shoulder had been struck by a cutting curse inside St. Mungo's). Ginny had floo'ed to Fred and George's shop to help them try to reopen for business, while Arthur and Bill were busy salvaging what could be saved from the Burrow.
"So how'd the rest of the meeting go?" Ron asked.
"Oh, I thought that it was very interesting," Hermione replied. "Still want to look at my notes?"
"Erm, sure…might help me shake off that last bit of pepper-up."
"You are such a git sometimes, you know?" Hermione said.
"Yeah, hear that a lot," Ron replied, as he wiped his face with his sleeve.
"Well mind the journal pages," admonished Hermione, as she disarmed her privacy spells and handed him her notebook.
"Let's see what we've got," Ron said to himself. "King Edward I-I-I?" He looked up towards Hermione, who had taken out a laptop and was waiting for a Powerpoint presentation to load.
"Oy, Hermione, what kind of surname is spelled 'I-I-I'?"
Hermione let out a sigh. "That's Edward the Third," she replied. "I-I-I is the number three in Roman numerals."
"Roman numerals?" Ron asked. "What are those?"
"It's the numeric system used by the Ancient Romans," she replied with exasperation. "I can't believe…simply ridiculous…"
"What's ridiculous?"
"That English wizards use Latin for incantations, but are completely ignorant of Roman numerals."
"Oh, well, it could just be me, couldn't it?"
"Yes, that is a distinct possibility," Hermione admitted.
Ron went back to his reading, and did a fair job of distracting Hermione from her lecture review with his muttered commentary.
"Edward…Black Prince…Wars Over Roses…boring…even more boring…beyond boring…hold on, what's this about a Scottish Royal Wizard?"
"What, aren't my notes clear enough?"
"Well, yes, but…what does it mean?"
"Probably not too much," Hermione replied. "Scotland was a separate country at the time that the Treaty of Carlisle was signed, so they had to agree to having a wizard government that included Scotland as well as the rest of Great Britain. That meant that the Scottish sovereign also had the right by treaty to have a Royal Witch or Wizard."
"So that could be important right?" Ron asked. "What if there's some other glowing orb out there, or a rogue royal wizard?"
"Relax, Ron," Hermione replied. "Though we don't have all the facts, it's unlikely that there ever was a Scottish Royal Wizard."
"Why is that?"
Hermione chuckled. "It's a long story, but for most of the 140 years between the treaty signing and the formal Union of Scotland and England the two countries shared the same king or queen….and when Scotland did have a separate king, well…let's just say that he made Harry's Uncle Vernon look like a wizard-lover."
"Really?" Ron asked. "So who was that?"
"King James VI and I," Hermione replied. "As in King James Bible King James."
"Is that supposed to mean something to me?"
"Oh, probably not," noted Hermione. "But this is also the King James that ruled during the peak of the Scottish witch-hunts, and who wrote a treatise called "Demonology" that became the witch-hunter's textbook over for the next century."
"So there can't be two Royal Wizards now?" Ron asked.
Hermione shook her head. "The treaty obligations of the two countries were combined at the time of union," she explained. "Now, there could have been a new Royal Wizard when most of Ireland gained independence, but you can't have a royal wizard without royalty, and the Irish were keen on forming a Republic."
Ron nodded…although he really didn't understand the muggle politics involved, he didn't care to give Hermione an opportunity to ride him about that fact. So rather than continue down that conversational path he finished the notes associated with the Royal Historian's expository. Ron then came upon notes from a completely separate meeting.
"Hermione," Ron asked, "What was this After-Action Report about?"
"Right…forgot that you missed that meeting as well," Hermione replied. "The Queen asked the Prime Minister to prepare a summary of last night's attacks, and outline what the muggle government is doing in response."
"Oh," said Ron. "What's all this?"
Hermione stood and walked over to Ron. "That's who was at the meeting," she replied, looking over his shoulder. "Lot easier to use initials than to write out full names."
"So who are all these people?"
"Well, HRM is the Queen, of course," Hermione replied. "Then there's the PoW Prince, P.M. for Prime Minister, Minister of Defense, Home and Foreign Secretaries, the heads of MI-5 and MI-6, the Metropolitan Police Commissioner, Harry and myself."
"Really?" asked Ron. He looked down at the list and added, "I get the HG, but which one is Harry?"
Hermione blushed a bit. "Erm, Harry is QWEGHBMSHP."
"So…QW is Queen's Wizard…what's the rest of them?"
Hermione laughed (a bit nervously). "Well, I was just making a joke to myself, you see, so the whole string stands for 'Queen's Wizard, the Earl Gryffindor, Hermione's Boyfriend, Major Sir Harry Potter."
Ron's eyes narrowed slightly as he snorted. "So now we can start calling him 'Queeg-him'?"
"Don't you dare!"
"Didn't realize that 'Hermione's Boyfriend' was an official title."
"Oh sure it is," Hermione replied. Trying to make light, she added, "There was an investiture and everything."
"Must have missed it," Ron replied. "Not that I would want to watch the initiation ceremony."
"Stop it…any other questions?"
Ron scanned down the next bit, and smiled.
"So when did you start doodling hearts on the margins of your notes?"
Hermione looked at him cross-eyed. "Do you have any substantive questions?"
Ron smiled as pointed towards a line of notes and asked, "How do you even pronounce a word that starts with a number?"
Hermione smiled. "The chemical is called '3-quinuclidinyl benzilate,' but don't feel too bad…most of the muggles in the room didn't know how to pronounce it either." She then added, "That's why it's called 'BZ' for short."
"And this is that gas that is being used to explain away the magic done in front of muggles last night?"
"Q Branch's bright idea," Hermione replied with a nod. "The muggles are saying that it was the work of muggle terrorists using a mild type of nerve gas…something that makes you loopy when you breathe it."
"Oh yeah, I was going to asked what 'confabulation' and 'phantom behaviors' were."
Hermione said, "Basically, it means you start seeing strange things, and doing strange things…rather perfect for the situation, since it can explain almost all of the hexes and jinxes."
"Including the running around starkers bit?"
Hermione nodded.
"So what's this part about muggles buying the cover story?" asked Ron. "They need to pay for something?"
Sighing, Hermione replied. "Buying is another term for accepting the story," she replied.
"Couldn't you have just said that?"
"Sorry, Ron, didn't realize that I'd have an audience for these notes."
"Right, well…you're saying that there's seventy-nine muggles who were told about magic because they couldn't be convinced otherwise?"
"Right."
"Why not just obliviate them?"
"Because that's seen as a rather serious invasion of a person's individual rights and liberties," she replied.
"But wouldn't it be for their own good, not remembering running around with their bits on display, or having backwards knees?"
With a heavy sigh, Hermione strove for the perfect analogy. "Image that during a detention Snape forced you to kiss his bare bum."
"Ohhhh! Why'd you have to make me imagine that?"
"Because it's relevant," Hermione replied. "Now, would you want that memory kicking around inside your head?"
"Of course not…except maybe for the fact that if Snape erased the memory before the detention ended, he'd be able to get away with what he did."
"Exactly," said Hermione. "Now, can you imagine that the muggles who were attacked last night might feel the same way?"
"Erm…you mean that…but it's not the same," Ron replied. "The obliviation isn't to allow the Death Eater's to get away with what they did…it's to keep the wizarding world secret."
"But why would muggles make that distinction?" Hermione asked. "Why would they care one bit about whether the wizard world stays secret?" She then added, "When you really think about it, having obliviator squads cleaning up after a muggle attack keeps the Aurors from having to do anything….it is part of the problem."
"So, what's this about getting paid to have memories erased."
"It's compensation…the muggles have already been victimized, why should they be forced to get attacked again with a obliviation spell without getting something in return."
"Makes sense," Ron agreed. "Although 10,000 galleons for every minute of erased memory sounds rather steep…can't see the Ministry wanting to pay those kind of rates."
"That's the idea," Hermione replied.
Ron moved on to the next section of notes.
A few minutes later, he looked up from the notes and asked, "You really like using initials, don't you?"
Hermione shrugged her shoulders.
"So 'H' stands for Harry, right?" Ron asked. When Hermione nodded, he asked, "So who is HHr?"
Only slightly embarrassed at the question, Hermione replied, "HHr stands for Harry and Hermione together."
Ron snorted. "Very cute, Hermione…next thing you know you two will be sitting on pink cushions drinking tea at Puddlefoot's…so this bit about rental flats….we might have a lead on where the Death Eaters are hiding?"
Hermione nodded. "Rookwood registered the car they were using in his own name, and also used his name to sign rental agreements for muggle flats in four different cities."
"And all we're going to do right now is watch?"
Hermione nodded. "Want to make sure what's inside before we knock on the doors."
Ron moved on to the "Analysis" and "Action Items" portions of the presentation and faltered. "Oy, Hermione, these notes make my eyes hurt…tell me what I need to know, please."
Hermione sighed, "Oh, well, first off, the Queen couldn't be convinced to cancel her trip to Scotland."
"But wasn't Edinburgh one of the ten o'clock cities?" Ron asked. "Is she stubborn or just daft?"
"I wouldn't dare characterize the Queen as either," Hermione replied with a smile. "You'd be on safer grounds calling her an honorary Gryffindor…someone not about to hide when the going gets tough." She then added, "This 'Holyrood Week' is an annual event…it'd be a big deal if she cancelled it."
"Guess she did sit there in the front row during the Dementor attack at Ascot," Ron admitted. "So the whole operation is packing up to go with her?"
"Pretty much," Hermione replied. "We did decide it best to keep the peanut butter brigade at their internship positions, at least for another week."
"Don't want to tip your hand before the big confrontation?" Ron asked.
"Exactly…so that means business as usual for you and Neville starting tomorrow. My mum will also hang back to make sure that the Summer Institute gets off as scheduled."
"Another bit of Gryffindor courage?" Ron asked.
Hermione shook her head. "Actually, given the attacks, having the students board at Cumberland Lodge while they go to school might be the safest place for them to be…and mum's checking on whether we can expand some of the living quarters so that we can house the students' families as well."
Ron nodded. "What's all this about a clamp-down on the wizarding world?"
Hermione replied, ""Just what it says, Ron…if the Ministry won't enforce wizarding secrecy laws about using magic around muggles, then we will. Anyone caught by muggle police using their wands in public will have the wands broken on-the-spot."
"A bit harsh, isn't it?"
"And just how are muggles supposed to tell between good wizards and bad wizards?" Hermione replied. "It's tough even for wizards to tell, especially if the Death Eaters are going to start attacking wearing muggle clothing."
Ron shook his head. "Sounds like we're going back to the days of witch hunts."
"No, I don't think so," said Hermione. "More like we're trying to prevent muggle hunting."
"So how does this delusional gas fit into the picture?"
"BZ is a deliriant, Ron, not a delusion…ant?…that is to say, it makes you delirious, not delusional."
"What's the difference?"
"Well…delirious means you act loopy…delusional means you look at a situation and make a loopy conclusion."
"So, that's the same thing, right?"
Hermione sighed. "No Ron…look, if I inhaled BZ right now and the delirium caused me to strip down starkers, you would be delusional to think that it was some anvil-sized hint that I fancied you."
"Oh, well…if you say so," Ron concluded. "So back to the BZ excuse."
"Sure," said Hermione, "Wally's idea was to use the BZ terrorist gas attack story to our advantage when we're looking for Death Eaters in muggle disguises."
"How would that work?"
"Word has gone out that these imaginary muggle terrorists made the BZ gas themselves, and some of them breathed too many fumes while it was brewing. As a result, they now exhibit the same symptoms of delirium as their victims."
"So?"
"So?" Hermione replied. "Think back to the Death Eaters parked in front of my parent's house. How did we spot them?"
"Their clothing was a bit off, wasn't it?"
"Exactly," said Hermione. "Acting or dressing strange, and appearing to suffer from severe memory loss are symptoms of BZ exposure."
"So whenever a wizard gets caught without a clue in a situation muggles take for granted, like waiting for a toilet seat to rise on its own …"
Hermione smiled. "Or getting spooked by automatic doors at the grocers, or not knowing how to make change using muggle money…"
Ron's ears turned red. "Okay, okay, so I was a clueless wizard my first few weeks in the muggle world…I've gotten better, haven't I?"
"Yes, you have," Hermione admitted. "But we're thinking that the Death Eater's won't be as clever. The muggle authorities have used the telly and newspapers to ask that anyone spotting a person acting strange that way to call the muggle police."
"But then what?" Ron asked. "What if they're wizards, but not Death Eaters? Do they go to jail just for that?"
"Of course not, Ron," Hermione replied. "The police would just ask a few simple questions, and if the wizard cooperates they'll be sent on their way."
"And if they don't cooperate?"
Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Well, presumption of innocence still holds true. But if the witch or wizard thinks they can get out of the situation by drawing their wands it'll be a taser and then we'll get called in."
"We, like you and me?"
Hermione nodded. "All of the Art Club witches and wizards will be on call to help sort out these incidents."
Ron shook his head. "I don't think that the wizarding world is going to be to happy with this."
Snorting, Hermione replied, "Just like muggles aren't too happy being hexed while the Ministry keeps all of their Aurors at home to defend the wizarding world….if Scrimgeour won't defend us, then he can take his complaints on how we choose to defend ourselves and jump in the lake."
Ron's eyes narrowed. "Not that I'm disagreeing, Hermione, but did you just hear what you said? You're throwing out words like us and we as if you're a muggle."
Hermione paused to consider Ron's insight. "Well, do you remember back when Harry said that if protecting muggle lives means violating magical secrecy laws then sod the laws?"
"Yeah, so…no different here?"
Hermione nodded. If sides needed to be drawn, then she had definitely jumped off of the centerline.
2:30pm Royal Mewes, Windsor Castle
Harry Potter woke from his kip with just enough time to apparate the short distance from the Round Tower to the stables that stood outside the castle's walls. The secret meeting's other attendee was waiting inside a designated empty stall.
The Queen's Wizard spotted footprint-shaped depressions in the strewn hay and smiled. "I'd be careful about using disillusionment spells this close to the castle," he said as he reached out to shake the invisible Auror's hand. "A roving muggle army patrol might take a dim view of things if they spotted you."
"Even with my near-authentic identification?" the Head Auror asked, as he cancelled the spell and held out the plastic badge at the end of his lanyard.
Harry snorted as grabbed hold of the badge. "Need to work on your transfiguration skills," he replied. "Plastic laminate doesn't weigh the same as stone." He then added, "But to answer your question…even with authentic security clearances I'm not risking any magic use near the muggle military after last night's attacks."
"Can't say I blame them for being on edge," the Head Auror admitted. "So, I need to emphasize that this unofficial meeting will involve an unofficial exchange of information."
Harry nodded. "I understand completely, and appreciate the risk you've taken just to meet under those terms…especially after what you did at the ten-o'clock attack sites last night."
"Yes, well, I understand that you did more than your fair share of avoiding open warfare between the magical and muggle worlds yourself, Harry."
"Okay, enough of the mutual admiration," Harry grinned. "Some decisions have been made by the muggle higher-ups that could well affect your Department."
"What about the rest of the Ministry?"
"Oh, well it will definitely affect them, but I don't care nearly as much about the consequences," Harry admitted.
"So how can I help, Lord Gryffindor?"
Harry shook his head, but let the title pass by without comment. "First off, the muggle Queen's trip to Scotland is still on…her flight's leaving in just a few hours."
"Even with Edinburgh one of the attack sites?"
Harry nodded. "Stiff upper lip, and all that…I wouldn't put it past her to visit the attack site on her way in from the airport."
The Head Auror nodded. "We've got the muggles sorted out on that one, haven't we?"
The Queen's Wizard replied, "Yes, but you've also got an Auror group there that's doing a piss-poor job of hiding themselves."
The Head Auror shut his eyes and sighed. "Dawlish?"
Harry nodded. "Thought about throwing a swamp at him for old-time's sake…suppose he was reinstated after he proved that he was more incompetent than disloyal?"
The Head Auror simply nodded.
"So," Harry continued, "I probably can't get you to pull your boys out of the city entirely, but could you at least get somebody up there that I can work with?"
Robards nodded. "I assume that Auror Moody fits that description?"
Harry smiled. "That would be lovely." He then passed a piece of parchment to the Head Auror. "Here's the coordinates of a safe meeting place. We'll arrange the cover story and uniforms, just like last night."
Gawain pocketed the parchment and nodded. "Patrols in the Edinburgh wizard's quarter alright with you?"
Nodding, Harry replied, "That would be useful, so long as Mad-Eye holds them on a short leash."
"What else, Harry?"
"Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes," the teen-aged wizard replied. "Fred and George have sent along word that their attempts to clean-up enough to open for business tomorrow are being forcefully impeded."
The Head Auror shrugged his shoulders. "Well, Harry, it is a crime scene that needs to be investigated."
"True enough," the Queen's Wizard replied. "But from what I hear, your investigators seem to be spending more time trying to figure out how the Twins took down the werewolves than investigating how and why the attack occurred in the first place."
"But Harry," the Head Auror replied, "the fact that they were able kill the werewolves without even being there…you've got to understand how exciting that is from a law enforcement perspective."
"I do," said Harry. "But you've got to understand that it wouldn't be the first time that the Ministry tried to convict someone for trying to defend themselves against an attack by a magical creature."
"Good point."
"Tell you what," said Harry. "You find a way to get the Ministry out of the shop and I'll talk with the Twins about sharing one or two of the relevant secrets with you."
"Deal," the Head Auror replied. "Anything else?"
Harry nodded. "Just one tiny thing."
The Head Auror squinted at the young wizard. "Why do I get the feeling that it isn't going to be so tiny?"
Harry snorted. "It's only the possibility of eliminating a few layers of middle management at the Ministry"
"And what, exactly, would these management layers be?" the Head Auror replied cautiously.
Harry grinned. "Oh, just the ones between you and Her Royal Majesty."
And with that cryptic comment he passed along copies of a treaty and an official Summons, whose original would soon be nailed to a tree on the grounds of Carlisle Castle.
3:00pm, Outside the Leaky Cauldron
Secret Agent Lupin and Chief Inspector Miller approached the street entrance of the Leaky Cauldron with wizard robes draped over their arms in a manner that hid their drawn weapons.
"First trip to Diagon Alley?" Remus asked.
Kate shook her head. "When my brother got his Hogwarts letter we turned his first trip into a family outing."
"So what did you think?"
"Thought it was scary enough for me never to want to go back," she replied.
Remus nodded as he noticed the scaffolding and barriers that had been erected on the sidewalk right in front of the pub.
"So this makes it look like the building is under construction?" he asked.
It was Kate's turn to nod. "Sandblasting requires those protective tarps," she explained. "They also do a good job of screening the entrance from the rest of the street and justifying the closed sidewalk."
The two ducked under the tarps with their free hands holding their identification out for inspection by the well-armed and wary guards that were stationed just inside. Once they'd cleared this hurdle, they approached the repaired door, and Remus introduced his partner to the utility of extendable ears. Not hearing anything of concern, Remus opened the locked door with some spell work. The interior was empty. After donning the robes they were carrying, Kate hid her revolver up a sleeve while Remus made short work of opening the hidden entrance to Diagon Alley.
The Chief Inspector's second ever visit to London's wizarding quarter started off a bit tense, as they were greeted by another set of stern-looking guards (this time armed with wands rather than automatic rifles). After Remus cautiously offered the Aurors an owl-delivered pass signed by Head Auror Robards, they were allowed on their way.
The goblins didn't look any less scarier than they had years earlier, but Kate managed to make it inside the bank and through their introductions with Gringott's bank personnel without wincing or wetting.
Clan Chief Ragnok was waiting for them in a conference room.
"No need to worry, Chief Inspector," the goblin grinned, after he had shaken her hand. "No goblin would think of harming anyone who is under the protection of Clan Chief Potter."
The policewoman gave Ragnok a confused look, prompting Remus to explain that the robes she was wearing identified her as Clanfriend to the Queen's Wizard's House.
Seeing the muggle woman release a small bit of tension in her shoulders, the goblin Chief discussed the status of the werewolf "guests" who were being held beneath the bank. The bodies of the six werewolves who had either arrived DOA or died soon after had been segregated from the others, and were available for inspection. Fenrir and the other survivors had, of course, transformed back into human form, and were being kept naked and wandless in a rather cold vault.
Remus cautiously asked about the goblins' intentions with respect to their "guests." Ragnok replied that they were at Clan Chief Potter's disposal, and that the goblins would be happy to do the disposal work. Remus thanked the Clan Chief for the offer, but conveyed Harry's wishes that no harm immediately come to the prisoners. The goblin somewhat reluctantly agreed, and offered to extend hospitality to their "guests" for an indefinite period of time.
Ragnok then moved on to the Malfoy question. Remus and Kate told the goblin chief everything that they had learned about the Rookery attack. Ragnok, in turn, informed the two that goblins had been hired to examine the building's wards, and to assist the house elves with heavy construction and body disposal. He then placed a small block of wood on the table.
"We customarily dump the Rookery corpses in Knockturn Alley," Ragnok stated. "But given the apparent cause of the Death Eater's death…well, we think it best that wizards don't get a chance to example the corpse."
Remus nodded as he pocketed the block. "Thank you, Ragnok, your discretion is much appreciated."
The goblin nodded, and replied, "As for the Malfoy patriarch himself, please let your Clan Chief know that we received his proposal and agree with his plan. The Goblin Nation will make no further attempts to convince Voldemort to kill Lucius Malfoy."
"Excellent," Chief Inspector Miller replied.
"Wait, I didn't hear about this one…can you fill me in?" asked Remus.
"Rookwood entered the Rookery in an attempt to kill Malfoy," replied the goblin. "Because the of building wards, he can't tell whether or not he succeeded."
"But if the goblins stop demanding that Voldemort kill Malfoy, then the Death Eaters will assume that Rookwood and the Carrows did get to Malfoy," added Kate.
Remus thought for a moment, and then smiled. "But Malfoy won't know that, will he?"
The goblin shook his head and gave the werewolf a wide toothy grin.
Sensing that their meeting was drawing to a close, Remus asked one final, pressing question.
"Clan Chief, I heard that one of the messages sent by the Grand Council to Voldemort informed him that the Goblins would go to war with any magical beings or beasts that attacked muggles. Is that true?"
Ragnok nodded his head, his smile less toothy, but still present.
"So, with Fenrir's attacks last night, do I need to worry, about..well…erm…."
"Mr. Lupin, I'm disappointed," said Ragnok. "Why would you think that goblins would adopt the same racist attitudes adopted by the Ministry of Magic?"
"How's that?" asked Kate. "Sorry, my turn to not understand."
"That is itself understandable, Chief Inspector," Ragnok replied. "The Ministry of Magic has in place rules and restrictions on werewolves that are based on the belief that once a wizard or witch is attacked by a werewolf and turned that they are no longer human, and instead a magical beast."
"Really? Oh, that's horrible."
Remus sighed in relief. "So werewolves as a group aren't covered under the Grand Council's threat, because they consider me to be a wizard with a medical condition, rather than a magical beast."
"Exactly," replied Ragnok.
"So," Remus mused, "do you think that Voldemort would see it that way?"
The goblin chief shrugged his shoulders. "Would you think it more likely that the Death Eaters take the Ministry's position or ours on this matter?"
It didn't take long for Remus to reach the obvious conclusion.
5:15pm, Palace at Holyroodhouse, Edinburgh, Scotland
Having made one final sweep of the castle grounds and buildings, the Queen's Wizard and Wally walked out into the inner courtyard of the Queen's official Scottish residence. Swapping normal glasses for prescription sunglasses, Harry asked, "Think we're ready for this?"
"No, but what does that have to do with anything?" the agent replied. Wally then added, "You do know that those sunglasses don't work at all with those robes, right?"
Harry looked down at his brightly colored garment, which was covered from hood to hem with the checkerboarded crests of the Queen, Scotland, and Clan Potter.
"Yeah, well at least I won't be the only one dressed funny," Harry replied. The two secret agents then walked through the main gates of the castle, where local politicians and civic officials were gathered to officially greet the Queen and Duke of Edinburgh. Surrounding these men and women were super-sized contingents of police and military, including a mounted detachment of Household Calvary, a drum and bagpipe band, and one hundred members of the Highlanders First Battalion (dressed with full colours). Two hundred more infantrymen were in the surrounding area (dressed more for combat than for review), with an additional five-hundred troops stationed along the eight mile route from the castle out to the airport. This surface force was augmented by a full squadron of helicopters that patrolled the city's skies, and a much-less noticeable cadre of SAS and MI-5 ¾ snipers positioned on rooftops surrounding the castle.
Harry and Wally headed towards a small group of men dressed in green tunics and Balmoral bonnets. Wally smiled as he reached out towards the group's leader.
"Why Mad-Eye, don't you look dashing?" he asked, as adjusted the angle of the retired Auror's cap. "You do know that The Stag offers discounts to men in uniform, right?"
"Gerroff, me, you," growled Moody dangerously.
"Hey Mad-Eye, nice pom-pom," grinned Harry.
The retired Auror's magical eye gave Harry's robes a full look over. "You should talk, Lord Major Fancy-Pants."
"Hey, I resemble that remark!" Harry complained.
"Now, now, Captain Moody," said Wally. "I was so certain that and your men would appreciate a muggle disguise that wasn't quite as garish as last night's reflective vests."
"Not quite as garish, he says," Moody whined. "Bloody outfit has a sash and shoulder boards and feathered cap, but it's 'not quite as garish'…and don't even get me started on these ridiculous bows and arrows."
Harry chuckled as he looked over the dress uniform of the Royal Company of Archers. "Would you rather be honorary Highlanders?" he asked, pointing towards the active infantrymen whose dress uniform included kilts, sporrans, and garters.
"At least those costumes let your bits breathe," Mad-Eye replied.
Harry shrugged. "Figured you and your men would be more comfortable holding long bows rather than rifles with attached bayonets."
"Well you got that right, at least."
Harry then asked about Gilmerton Cove, the small wizard's quarter hidden within Edinburgh's Old City. Moody's response was only partially discernible to Harry, as an in-bound report from his ear piece competed for the Queen's Wizard's attention.
A few moments later he said "Roger, that," into his shoulder. With a nod towards Wally, Harry turned to Mad-Eye and said, "The Queen's plane has been cleared for landing, and I need to head out to the airport. Promise me that you lot will follow the rules-of-engagement that I worked out with Head Auror Robards earlier today?"
"Yes, yes, we get to stand still and look pretty with these useless sticks in our hands unless all hell breaks loose."
Harry nodded, "And even then, you'd do best to sit on your wands…the muggle police are on the lookout for weird looking men with small wooden sticks in their hands. And for Merlin's sake don't cast any concealment charms…while our sharpshooters have been briefed on what you look like now, they've also been ordered to shoot anyone they spot in their thermal imagers using magic to hide."
"Still can't get over the fact that you lot can see through glamour and disillusionment charms," Mad-Eye muttered.
Harry smiled. "Yes, well let's hope that you don't find out the hard way what else muggles can do." And with that he headed to the street, where an small gaggle of men were fawning over his motorcycle.
"Yes, it's a '69 Bonny," he said, as he stuffed his robe into a saddlebag and took his "Seeker" helmet off the handlebar.
"I inherited it," he stated, as he strapped on the helmet on and kick-started the engine.
"No, barely any modifications at all," he claimed with a straight face, as he revved the engine. TPOMS muggles Stout and Blade rolled up on matching Yamaha FJR1300 motorcycles.
Nodding to the two men, Harry took advantage of their helmets' charmed comm gear and asked, "What happened to New Six?"
A belly laugh rang in Harry's ears. "Still out looking for what he calls a 'real' bike," replied Blade. "Didn't think it'd be right for anyone named 'Beemer' to be caught riding a crotch rocket."
Harry shook his head as he looked down the Royal Mile and the start of an unbroken stretch of cordoned-off streets and motorways. "His loss, as far as I'm concerned."
"Couldn't agree with you more, sir," replied Stout.
And with sirens blaring the three men covered the eight mile distance between Palace and Airport in well less than eight minutes.
5:30pm, Edinburgh International Airport
The Queen's flight landed at Edinburgh International Airport without incident and taxied to a bit of tarmac that connected the main airport with RAF Turnbill, a former military air base used presently for cargo operations. Harry (who had pocketed his shrunken motorbike and thrown on his robes) was waiting along with a large police and military escort.
"Steve, the tarmac is clear of magic and magicals," Harry announced into his badge. "Excepting me, of course."
"Roger that, Harry," Steve replied. "How about the route?"
"Looked clean when I flew up from the Palace a few minutes ago," Harry replied.
"Flew as in 'in-the-air-flying' flew?"
"Nah, stayed on the ground the whole time," replied Harry with a grin. "Speaking of flying," he added, "how did Comet and Cupid enjoy the trip?"
"They were fine, once they were introduced to the Queen and Dramamine."
"Looking for my head on a platter, then?" Harry asked.
"Oh no, I took pains to caution them on the downsides of fragging," Steve replied smartly. "Of course, I wouldn't rule out a good hexing from either of them."
"I'll take that under advisement," replied Harry.
By this point in the conversation the jet doors had opened and a cadre of security men had spilled out with trigger fingers and steely gazes. As they walked down the mobile stairway three black limousines pulled up, sandwiched in between open-cab Land Rover Rapid Deployment Vehicles.
"We're ready to go here," said Steve.
"Roger that," said Harry, as he stepped inside a small storage shed that he'd parked next to. Fifteen seconds later, he stepped back outside, accompanied by most of the Order of Arthur dressed in the same brightly-colored robes that Harry was wearing. The Queen's Wizard then dashed up the mobile stairway as Hermione and Ron led the others to the open backs of the Land Rovers.
Harry found Steve waiting for him just inside the airplane's opened door and shook his hand. Katie and Alicia were standing right behind the MI-5 ¾ agent; they, too were now wearing the same robes as Harry.
"So tell us again, Mr. Queen's Wizard, why he have to wear these robes?" asked Katie.
"Because if you try and hex me whilst wearing anything else the snipers will shoot you?" replied Harry.
The young witch paused, and then replied, "So I can hex you now, then?"
Somebody behind Katie interrupted. "We would rather you wait until later in this evening to hex my Wizard, Lieutenant Bell."
Katie blanched as she looked over her shoulder and curtsied. "Yes, Your Majesty." She then turned back towards Harry, gave him a scowl, and whispered, "You best be getting your witches-in-waiting lined up soon, Potter." In a louder voice, she asked, "After you then, Major?"
Harry smiled, and fought back the urge to note that, given their respective ranks, he should be the one to issue orders. He turned and led the Queen and her entourage out of the plane and into the waiting limousines.
6:00pm, Holyrood Palace, Edinburgh, Scotland
The Queen and Duke of Edinburgh arrived at the Palace at Holyroodhouse on-time and unhindered by terrorists and nationalists. Harry and the other witches and wizards stayed in the background as the Royal couple walked from their car to the forecourt of the Palace, where the Lord Provost and other local officials were waiting to presents the keys to the city. The Queen smiled as she accepted the ceremonial keys, only to hand them back with words that she had memorized decades earlier.
" I return these keys, being perfectly convinced that they cannot be placed in better hands than those of the Lord Provost and Councilors of my good City of Edinburgh."
And with that 700-year old tradition dispensed with, the Queen and Duke reviewed the contingent of Highlanders as an artillery battery fired off a 21-gun salute. Hermione was able to quickly reach Moody's side and reassure him that the muggle weapons were not actually aimed at him.
The Queen finished her review and then engaged in conversation with Scotland's First Minister (who, after devolution, was nominally Scotland's chief executive). Harry didn't need an extendable ear to pick out the politician's strained politeness, particularly when the man expressed his "disappointment" over not being able to personally welcome the Queen to "his" country at the airport. Needless to say, the Queen was not amused. Taking in the sight of a busload of reporters and camera men that had just arrived from the airport terminal, she boldly suggested that the First Minister join her on a tour of the previous night's attack site.
"But…but, Your Majesty," the politician stammered. "I am not certain that the area has been reopened, for fear of remnant pockets of poison gas."
The Queen lips pursed into a tight smile as she turned towards Harry and asked, "Gryffindor, what say you on the threat of poison gas at Grassmarket?"
Harry paused for a moment, then smiled in recognition. "Your Majesty, I can assure you that you will not be threatened by a release of BZ at the site."
With that reassurance, the Queen turned back towards the First Minister, who offered additional protests. "But…but Your Majesty, can your….your wizard…speak with authority on this issue?"
The Queen smiled. "We have every confidence that Lord Gryffindor is well positioned to offer counsel on this matter." She then added, "Come now, First Minister, you did wish a photo-op, did you not?"
"Erm, well…actually…"
The Queen didn't wait for a coherent sentence to emerge from the man's lips. She summoned the commander of the troops that she had just finished inspecting and asked, "Colonel Cartwright, are my Highlanders up for a short march?"
The Colonel lost his eyebrows underneath his cap, but had the presence of mind to salute and reply, "Your Majesty, Your Highlanders are always at your disposal."
"Very good, then," she replied resolutely. "We shall leave in ten minutes time for Grassmarket Square." Turning towards the Scottish Minister, she said, "We assume that is sufficient time for you to acquire any protective equipment you deem necessary for your person."
"Erm, yes, Your Majesty," the First Minister replied quietly.
Cries went out for troops to form ranks and prepare to march on the Queen's orders, as the gathering of politicians and soldiers scrambled to follow her lead. Harry discretely activated his Art Club badge and let the others (who were positioned around the perimeter of the forecourt) know what was taking place. After quick consultations with the MI-5 Agent and Defense Ministry Official in charge of the scene he walked back towards Mad-Eye and his men.
"What kind of madness is this, Potter?" the Auror asked.
"Easy, Mad-Eye," Harry replied. "There are far too many armed muggles within earshot who wouldn't take kindly to your opinions of their Queen."
"So what are we doing, then?"
"We're visiting the attack scene about an hour later than I expected," Harry replied with a smile. "Later than we expected, actually."
"What's that mean?"
"It means that that those employed to protect the Queen anticipated her desire to stand with her subjects in the face of terrorism," Harry replied. "We've already got boots on the ground, laid down television camera platforms, and cleared the site of all but a few carefully screened loyal subjects who are ready and waiting to be inspired."
Mad-Eye thought about what Harry said for a few moments. "So this really is a publicity stunt, then?"
Harry shook his head. "There's a difference between planning and anticipating." He then added, "And given the breath of last night's attacks, it's no stunt for the leader of Great Britain to offer words of reassurance at this time of crisis."
The Auror let out a "Harrumph!", then added, "And she expects that the loyal subjects will listen?"
Harry nodded. "You should come along, Mad-Eye, and find out what it's like to have a real leader rise to the occasion."
"I should, should I?"
"Of course," Harry replied. "You are, after all, part of the Queen's security."
Mad-Eye scowled. "Expect you'll want us to ride in the back of those metal beasts?"
The Queen's Wizard shook his head. "Wouldn't think of it," he replied. "As the Queen's Guard, you'll get to run along side her motorcar."
"Run?"
Harry nodded as he looked down at his watch. "We leave in three minutes, if you need to pop off in search of a stamina potion."
The Queen's Wizard didn't see the wooden bow raised as if to strike him, as he had already turned back towards his motorbike for a scouting trip in advance of the impromptu parade.
Monday, July 9, 6:00am,
Palace at Holyroodhouse
The Queen's Wizard woke at his customary hour within an uncustomary bed. It took him a few moments to realize that he was in guest quarters at the Queen's palace in Edinburgh (a clearing process that was hindered, mind you, by his body's insistence on spooning even more closely than he already was with his girlfriend). He stretched out his arms and smiled; the Queen had turned in for the night right after her speech and suggested that all those who'd been up the night previous do the same.
He finally swung his legs over the side of the bed and headed towards the three owls that were perched on the opened windowsill, patiently waiting for the bowls of water and owl treats to be refilled. One of the three birds pecked at his hand sharply, and refused to let him untie the message fixed to its leg.
"Fine, fly over there, then," Harry said to the owl, as he pointed towards the bed. The owl took his advice.
"Harry!"
"Morning, sweetheart," he said with a smile. "Apparently that message is for you."
Hermione quickly cleared the cobwebs with that comment, and tore open the message.
"Anything you care to share, there?" Harry asked.
Hermione pursed her lips and shook her head. "Oh, nothing worth twisting knickers over."
"But worth my finger when I tried to open it?"
"Maybe," Hermione replied with an enigmatic smile. Noticing the suspicious look on Harry's face, she added, "Can't a witch keep a few secrets to herself, especially around her boyfriend's birthday?"
Harry relaxed his shoulders and smiled. "I suppose so."
"So what was in the fancy envelope you opened, Harry?"
Looking down at the official message in his hand, he replied, "Formal response to the summons I nailed to the Carlisle tree."
"Oooh, did Umbitch seal it with a kiss?"
Harry winced. "Erm, no…that would have been a C.O.D. Howler."
"C.O.D.?'
"Yeah, the kind of message that makes the recipient howl when he opens it."
"Very cute…so who did send it?"
"Somebody from the Department of Mysteries, confirming next week's meeting."
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Really? Well that's interesting."
"Yeah," said Harry, "and it fits in with the Head Auror's surprise when I gave him a copy of the Treaty yesterday afternoon."
"Well, I suppose that the agreement is something that nobody would want to speak about within the Ministry."
Harry nodded. "So now I'm wondering if Scrimgeour even knows that he was supposed to be keeping the Queen's Peace."
"Well, if the Head Auror didn't realize he was acting on the Queen's behalf…"
Harry nodded. "So do you think that the Minister of Magic could be held accountable for violating a treaty that he might not have even known about?"
Thinking for a moment, Hermione nodded. "The Treaty was a magically binding contract. If that kind of magic forced you to compete in the Tri-Wizard Tournament when you didn't even enter your name into the cup…."
Harry smiled. "It's that's the case, well…about time that kind of magic bit somebody else in the arse."
Realizing that there was limited amount of time to prepare for the day, the two deferred further discussions on that topic and continued to plow through their odd assortment of magical and mundane correspondence. Owl posts were read and responded to while laptop computers were accessed for e-mails. Magical mirrors, Art Club badges, mobile phones and MI-5 comm gear was tossed about as Harry and Hermione checked in with those they were in charge of, and those they answered to. Hermione typed the results of these messages and inquiries into the laptop, forming the guts of a daily brief that they would eventually submit to Queen and COBRA.
It was only after they determined that the world hadn't gone too far to hell while they were sleeping that they had enough confidence to sit down for a private breakfast and read the muggle and wizard newspapers.
"Looks like last night was a hit," said Harry, as he reviewed the coverage of the Queen's ad-libbed address to the nation.
Hermione nodded as she sipped her tea. "Completely ignored by the Prophet, although that's probably a good thing," she replied.
Harry set down his paper and picked up his PDA and the day's schedule. "What time are you popping down to the Institute, then?"
Checking her own appointments calendar, she replied, "Eight-thirty, or so, unless I'm needed here…still think you'll have time to speak at the assembly?"
Harry nodded. "The Duke's pretty much out flying solo today," he replied. "Visits the University of Edinburgh in the morning, then the Royal Scottish Academy and Royal College of Surgeons in the afternoon."
"Queen's staying in, then?"
"Yeah…private meetings with me and the First Minister, so that I can let him in on our world and run roughshod over the magical secrecy laws." He then sighed. "Merlin, I don't care much for politicians."
Hermione smiled. "Hey!"
"Present company excepted, of course," Harry added.
"No worries, Harry," Hermione replied. "It's just as clear that some politicians don't care much for the peerage, or for Royal Wizards."
"And when you're both?"
Hermione chuckled. "I still love you, Harry."
"Well that's something, isn't it?" he replied with a grin.