Unofficial Portkey Archive

Muggle Summer

A/N: I'm starting to post files that support this story as Google Docs. The first file is an org chart that displays all of the named characters working with or for Her Majesty's Government. Let me know if you liked what I've posted and want to see more… I've got at least 2 other org charts I could develop (Ministry of Magic after its reorganization, and the Harry-centered chart with HHr within "House of Gryffindor").

Disclaimer: Not my characters, no money being made, etc., etc.

Chapter 61: Going to Ground

oo00OO00oo

It's 3 a.m. and your Death Eaters are safe and asleep.
But there's a phone in the Dark Lord's lair and it's ringing.
Something's happening in the world.
Who answers that call?
Someone who already knows the muggle's leaders, knows the military -- someone tested and ready to lead in a dangerous world?
It's 3 a.m. and your Death Eaters are safe and asleep.
Who do you want answering the phone?

oo00OO00oo

Wednesday, July 11, 3:00am
Somewhere Hidden in Salisbury

Augustus Rookwood had just entered REM sleep when the mobile sitting on his nightstand chirped. It took some non-electronic encouragement for him to answer the phone.

"Stuff that bloody bird!" yelled Dolohov, as he threw his pillow at the former Unspeakable from across the bedroom.

"Huh?" Rookwood replied.

The answer to this one word question came from the still-ringing mobile. A glance at the Caller ID number cleared his head far more effectively than his bunk-mate's curses. He pushed a button, held the receiver to his ear, and barked, "Report."

"This is Marcus Flint…here at our Recovery Point," replied a weak voice on the other end of the call. "Seven others…Cardiff, Liverpool got visited."

The former Unspeakable cursed.

"What's your current situation?"

"Hit with some sort of gas attack," Flint replied. "Took us a while to move from Rally point to here…doesn't look like we've been tracked or followed."

"When did the attacks occur?"

"Not sure…two, maybe three hours ago…."

Rookwood cursed again, then ordered Flint to lay low until help arrived.

Once he pocketed the mobile, a now much more awake Dolohov asked, "Problems?"

The former Unspeakable nodded as he quickly dressed himself and grabbed his rucksack. "My two remaining safe houses were attacked…I need to find out how and why."

"Bugger."

"You've got that right…I'm heading out to assess the situation. You should wake our Lord and tell him the news."

"Yeah, right," replied the Death Eater. "It's your problem…why don't you tell him?"

Rookwood sighed deeply. "You idiot…there's no time…"

But Dolohov was rather insistent on not being the bearer of bad news. Realizing that he needed to gain more facts before facing Voldemort, the former Unspeakable activated a portkey and disappeared.

oo00OO00oo

3:10am, Nottingham Caves, Nottingham

It was thought by Albus Dumbledore that almost all of the Dark Lord's focus during Harry Potter's fifth year at Hogwarts had been on retrieving the prophecy from the Department of Mysteries. This was a mistaken belief…while there was a concerted effort to gain the prophecy, even more attention was paid to laying the groundwork for success during the upcoming Second War.

No small part of this groundwork involved work underground. With Ministry spies and sympathizers in place that could either ignore or bury evidence of magical activity in non-magical areas, Voldemort's Inner Circle had developed a network of hideouts, safe-houses, and re-supply posts. For security purposes, each of the senior Death Eaters worked independently, and kept a portion of the network secret from the others. And a portion of these secret sites were made even more secure when Voldemort memory charmed his subordinates, so that he alone was aware of these locations.

This level of paranoia paid off when Rookwood and other Inner Circle members were captured in the Department of Mysteries, and subsequently interrogated with Veritaserum. All of the commonly known locations were compromised, along with those locations known only to the captured Death Eaters. It was only the sites known solely to Voldemort, and to those (like Bellatrix) who evaded capture that remained secure.

The ability to develop a new network of magically-enhanced hideouts was hampered during Harry's sixth year, and destroyed during the failed attack on the Ministry, when all of Voldemort's operatives within the Magical Surveillance Office were exposed. The Dark Lord was therefore rather stingy when it came to sharing the locations of the older hideaways, and had relied upon newer safe-house locations in the aftermath of Ascot. Only three of the old sites were released by Voldemort for minion use, and designated as Emergency Recovery Points. Each Death Eater was provided a portkey to a rally point near one of these locations. Were their primary safe house compromised, a Death Eater was told to portkey to the rally point, wait there for others who might have escaped, and then travel on foot to the Recovery Point. A pay-as-you-go mobile was hidden at each recovery point entrance; it was this mobile that Marcus Flint had used to contact Rookwood with the bad news.

The former Unspeakable's portkey delivered him straight to the entrance to Recovery Point Gamma, located on a hill slope just above the city of Nottingham. It took a few seconds for him to get his bearings…he was in an abandoned quarry, next to a hanging wall of soft sandstone. A cool breeze struck him from behind. When Rookwood turned towards this breeze, he spied a wand pointed at his heart, held by a wizard standing at the mouth of a hand-dug tunnel.

Once passwords were exchanged, the younger wizard dropped his wand, and led Rookwood past muggle-repelling charms and into the tunnel.

"Mind your step, it's bloody dark in here," Flint said. "One of the Cardiff blokes broke his leg when he fell into the shaft."

The former Unspeakable shook his head in resignation as he reached into his sack and retrieved two muggle torches. He flipped them both on, then handed one to his companion.

The former Quidditch captain nodded his thanks, then headed deeper into the tunnel, to a spot where the end of a long wooden ladder jutted out from a hole in the ground. Flint pointing out the ladder, swung his arm out and said, "After you."

oo00OO00oo

The system of hand-dug caves and tunnels underneath the City of Nottingham was the most extensive in all of Britain, with some excavations dating back thousands of years. During the Eighteenth Century, these caves were used by the city's poor as dark, fetid rental housing. Conditions were so horrific for both the indigent cave dwellers and tannery employees that the muggle Parliament passed an Act in 1845 banning the use of subsurface structures as rental housing for the poor. Almost all Nottingham's caves were abandoned at that time…with only a few kept open for use as a modern-day tourist attraction, a rifle range, pub cellars, and (during the Second World War) air raid shelters.

Oh, and for a Death Eater hide-out as well, but this was something that the muggles didn't know about.

The wooden ladder that Rookwood descended was propped up against the wall of a vertical shaft that opened up into a chamber that was roughly thirty feet long, twenty feet wide, and ten feet high. Charmed wooden torches lit the room, revealing two six-foot high doorways within opposite walls, and a handful of drowsy Death Eaters sprawled out on the cave floor in their nightclothes. It appeared to Rookwood that it was only the pained cries of the injured Death Eater that was keeping these others awake.

The former Unspeakable ignored the pleas for help from the injured wizard as he tried to quickly assess what had happened. The stories were notably identical, regardless of which safe-house the Death Eater had been in.

Thinking with a sense of urgency, Rookwood ordered the men to move farther into the cave network in case room was needed for more arrivals. The best he could do for the injured wizard was splint the leg and dispense a vial of pain-relief potion… Skelre-gro was a proprietary potion that was in short supply within their ranks, and one of potions that Snape was trying to create on his own using materials gathered during the attack on Diagon Alley.

After promising that the group would not be forgotten, Rookwood touched a reusable portkey and returned to Voldemort's lair.

oo00OO00oo

The Dark Lord was not a happy camper when he was woken in the middle of the night.

"My apologies, My Lord," Rookwood said, with eyes cast down to the floor at Voldemort's bedside. "But I must report that the safe-houses at Cardiff and Liverpool were attacked tonight, and I fear that this location may have been compromised as well."

"What?" Voldemort demanded. "Who attacked, and how…and how were you made aware of this?"

Rookwood swallowed down some bile, and tried to answer the questions in order.

"It was most likely muggles, who used some sort of poison gas. Eight of the twelve within these two houses managed to portkey to their rally point, and make their way to Rally Point Gamma. The used the muggle communication device hidden there to call me, and I just returned from interviewing them."

Voldemort frowned as he thought over the response. Some occlumancy was needed to quiet all of the voices within his head offering suggestions on how best to torture the minion before him.

"Why do you think that this location may be at risk?" he demanded.

Rookwood paused. He really didn't want to answer the question, but figured that it would be less painful then having the answer ripped from his mind by a Legimens attack.

"My Lord," said Rookwood, "You and I were the only ones that knew where all of the safe-houses under my control were located. We know that my memory was modified when I flew out of the Rookery on Saturday night. We also know that muggles may have been involved there. If these muggles, or the goblins, or Potter…if somebody was able to capture the memories that were scanned by the building's wards…"

"Yes, Rookwood…that does seem to be the only possible explanation….other than the possibility that you have betrayed me."

The former Unspeakable very nervously tried to speak in his own defense. "My Lord…were any of your Inner Circle to betray you, would it not make sense that this location would be a higher-priority target than safe-houses filled with low-level supporters?"

"Indeed," Voldemort replied. ""That is a conundrum."

The former Unspeakable bowed his head down. "Which is why I believe we must consider abandoning this position."

Voldemort stared at Rookwood for a few seconds, until he was able to bring the urge to hex under control. He then nodded, reached into his pocket, and removed his pack of portkeys. He scanned the deck of playing cards until the King of Hearts came up. Holding this card out to the former Unspeakable, he ordered him to take hold, then activated it.

The portkey deposited to two wizards into the alleyway near the Avebury stone circle. Rookwood followed his master out of the alleyway, and into the center of the magical megalith.

"Give me your arm," Voldemort quietly demanded.

Rookwood knew well enough what his master wanted, and braced for pain as he rolled up his sleeve and offered his left arm. Voldemort jabbed his wand tip into the black tattoo and summoned his Inner Circle. They arrived by portkey within moments, in various states of dress and with varying degrees of alertness.

"The locations of Rookwood's safe-house locations have been compromised and subsequently attacked," Voldemort stated matter-of-factly. "We are going to ground. Make arrangements for everyone to abandon their current positions and to fall back to their respective Recovery Points."

"Are we to abandon our provisions in these safe-houses, My Lord?" asked Nott.

Voldemort thought for a moment. "Take what you can. Have your charges use minimizing spells, but only at the last moment before you portkey out."

Snape stepped forward. "My Lord, the potions that I am brewing will not travel well, and many of the cursed and injured under my care won't survive a portkey trip."

"Good point, Severus," the Dark Lord replied. "Yaxley…travel with Snape back to his safe-house. Collect the emergency portkeys of anyone too ill to travel, and obliviate their memories of any of our rally or recovery points."

"As you wish, My Lord," the Death Eater replied. "Does that include Severus?"

The Dark Lord nodded. "Memory charm everyone who stays behind."

Severus Snape didn't like that response one bit, but was smart enough to keep his comments and his thoughts to himself.

"My Lord," said Rodolphus Lestrange, "I have moved my men into position for today's muggle hunt…should they be pulled back as well?"

"Hmmm….who has portkeys to travel to Salisbury?" Voldemort asked.

Nearly everyone there raised their hands.

"Give them to Rodolphus," the Dark Lord ordered. "Bella, my dear?"

"Yes, My Lord," the female Dark Eater cooed.

"Travel with your husband to Edinburgh. Collect all of the emergency portkeys, and obliviate the lot of all knowledge of our safe-houses and fall-back positions…and yes, that includes your husband."

"As you wish, My Lord."

"Rodolphus," Voldemort stated, "Monitor your muggle radio for the signal to abort…it will mean that Salisbury is no longer a safe haven. Otherwise, once you have successfully completed your task, portkey with your men to Salisbury and wait there for further instructions."

"Other issues?" the Dark Lord asked.

"My Lord," said Nott tentatively, "Were any of our troops killed or captured during these attacks?"

Voldemort turned to Rookwood and signaled for him to answer.

"Four didn't make it to the Rally Point," the former Unspeakable said. "We don't know what their status is."

The elder Nott nodded. "These four…they would have had their emergency portkeys with them?"

"Yes."

"Doesn't that put Recovery Point Gamma at equal risk of detection, then?"

Rookwood looked nervously at his master, who didn't look very pleased that he hadn't raised this issue beforehand.

"The portkeys were well disguised, and might be overlooked if their pockets were emptied out," Rookwood replied. "But even if the portkeys are discovered, there's no way for anyone else to know their destinations, and only a fool would blindly take a Death Eater's portkey to an unknown location."

"You speak as if there are no fools within the Ministry," Nott replied, earning a nervous laugh from his audience.

Rookwood replied, "The portkeys take you to the Rally Point, not the Recovery Point itself. Each of my wizards knew how to get from one point to the other, but didn't know exactly where they'd be…and the Rally Point was selected to be easily defended. Perhaps…"

The Death Eater looked back towards his master for input.

"Nott," Voldemort said, "Your cadre is assigned to Gamma…set up a small welcoming committee at the Rally Point to deal with any uninvited guests."

"As you command, My Lord."

There were no other immediate questions, so Voldemort dismissed all but Pettigrew and Rookwood.

"Wormtail," he said, once the three were alone. "You will travel we me to Salisbury, and will remain behind to monitor the location in your animagus form. Should it be attacked, it will be up to you to send the signal to abort Lestrange's mission."

Peter, eyes firmly on the ground in front of him, acknowledged his master's orders. The Dark Lord then turned to the former Unspeakable.

"I am very disappointed in you, Augustus, but I sense more incompetence than disloyalty."

"Yes, My Lord."

"The idea of muggles attacking our forces is as intolerable as it is unfathomable," said Voldemort, as he handed the other Death Eater a portkey.

"You are to observe the attack this afternoon. Do not participate. Take note of all defenses and responses, then use this portkey and wait at its destination for further orders…understood?"

"Yes, My Lord," replied Rookwood. "I do not deserve your generous trust in my abilities."

The Dark Lord smiled thinly. "No, you don't." He then held out his wand and cast a memory charm on the former Unspeakable that was much more painful than necessary.

Once his follow-up mental probe determined that he had wiped out all of Rookwood's knowledge of Death Eater hide-aways, he sent his minion along on his appointed task, then used his own portkey to travel with Pettigrew back to Salisbury…there was no way that he was going to leave behind his magical tent when he relocated to a well-equipped location known to no one but himself.

oo00OO00oo

6:30am, Palace at Holyrood House, Edinburgh

Hermione Granger walked over to the large guest-bedroom window while her draft report was printing and watched as an army of caterers placed row after row of crystal and china on white linen-covered tables underneath long white tents. When her badge chirped she turned her attention to a much smaller, fully enclosed white tent.

"Yes, Harry?" she asked, after activating the badge.

"We're done here," the Queen's Wizard replied. "I'm coming up."

"Too tired to walk?" Hermione asked.

Harry waited until the badge jump into the guest bedroom was completed before he answered.

"Too busy to walk," he said.

Hermione nodded. "Construction all set, then?"

"Queen's Tent tube is finished," Harry replied. "Irongrip and his crew think that they'll have two others ready by noon…would have already been done if they didn't have to avoid contact with the caterers."

"They are setting up the tea tent rather early aren't they?"

Harry snorted as he walked to the window and watched uniformed wait staff stack teacups and plates on tables underneath the tents. "Well, service for 8,000 takes a while to prepare if you aren't using magic."

"Are we really expecting that many, given the Ten o'clock Attacks?" asked Hermione.

With a nod, Harry replied, "Stiff upper lip, and all that…the Buckingham Palace garden parties were well-attended after the terrorist attacks last year, and there's no way in hell that the Scots will allow themselves to be viewed as any less brave than the English."

Hermione shook her head. "Still wish there had been more time to expand out the ward lines."

A sigh escaped from Harry's lips as he pulled Hermione into a hug. "You've done the best you could do, given all of your other time commitments."

"Still…."

"We can't do everything, and even if we could it's starting to look like they wouldn't want us to."

It was Hermione's turn to sigh.

"You're starting to use that tone of voice again."

"What?"

"That disdainful 'they'…it's the same way you talk about the Ministry of Magic."

"Well if the shoe fits on the Home Secretary's foot…"

"Harry, I'm on the COBRA team as well…have I become part of the problem?"

Shaking his head, the Queen's Wizard replied. "Of course not…it's just that…well, they took you for a ride as well last night."

"Yes, they did," Hermione replied. "But from their perspective, I can understand why…doesn't mean that I have to like it."

"Or stand for it, either."

"Now, Harry," Hermione replied. "Look…we've got another insanely busy day today. You've got the Garden Party to protect, and I've got the Emperor's Wizard and friends showing up in London this morning…"

"So when do we take a good hard look at whether the muggle government is using us?" asked Harry sharply. "Before or after we help them take back control of wizarding Britain?"

"Harry….you need to calm down," Hermione replied. "That's one of the reasons why I'm so happy that ICW is paying us a visit today…he's had his job for sixty years. That's got to give him some perspective on how to balance between the worlds, right?"

Harry snorted. "Yeah, alright…you will have time this afternoon to join me, right?"

Hermione smiled. "If the alternative is leaving you to free to roam about the garden with your harem…"

"Hey," Harry chided. "Just because Susan and Hannah decided to prank you doesn't mean that I'm interested in either one of them.'

"Or both," Hermione added.

"Yes, or both," Harry said with a sigh. "As much as I look forward to my birthday this year, all of those contracts to deal with…"

"You could always tell Mr. Patil and all the other patriarchs that you've got a Consort," Hermione said with a grin.

"I'd be better off simply saying that I was already engaged," Harry muttered, as he pulled her close to him from behind.

Hermione raised an eyebrow, turned her head, and kissed Harry's cheek

"Yes, I think that you would too," she replied. "But only if it were true."

Harry raised an eyebrow, but saved the witty response for fear of being accused of some more passive-aggressive behavior.

oo00OO00oo

7:50am, Ministry of Magic, London

Susan Bones stepped out of the floo connection and into the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic, trying to mask her nervousness as she started her day as a pure-blooded intern within the Ministry's Department of Transportation. She joined the flow of other interns and employees making their way from the inbound floos towards the Security Gate. Neville Longbottom was waiting for her on the other side.

"How are you, Nev?" she asked, as if she hadn't just seen him fifteen minutes ago at a meeting with Harry and Hermione up in Edinburgh.

"I should be asking you that, Sue," he replied with a smirk, as they began walking towards the bank of lifts. More quietly, he added, "After all, you were the one that called in sick yesterday, right?"

Susan snorted. "Sounds like I might need to suffer a relapse, depending on how things turn out."

Neville nodded seriously, then tried to lighten the mood. "So is it safe to kiss you or not?"

The Queen's witch-in-waiting waggled her eyebrows as she pulled him into a crowded lift and pressed her ample chest tight against his side.

"Guess you'll just have to risk it to find out, Buzz," she replied coyly, almost purring as she voiced his TPOMS nickname.

Neville's embarrassment and the throat clearing of some of the older ministry workers within the lift car kept the banter from going any further. The car made the short trip up to Level Seven, where Neville "worked" within the offices of the Official Gobstones Club. Just before he stepped off, Neville turned towards the Hufflepuff and hugged her close.

"Take care, okay?"

Susan nodded. "Thanks, Neville," she said, as she gave his hand a squeeze. "See you at lunch either way."

The lift continued its upward path, stopping at the Fifth Level for Special Assistant to the Minister Percy Weasley. He quickly glanced around to see if there was anyone on board that he should either suck-up to or talk down to. Susan Bones fit into the latter category.

"Feeling well enough to work today, Miss Bones?" he asked, as the doors closed and the car began to move.

Susan bit her lip in an effort to remain civil. "Yes sir, Director Weasley…thank you for asking."

"Not a problem, Miss Bones," he replied haughtily. "I make it a point to take interest in everyone that works for me."

"Yes, sir, erm…thank you, sir."

Percy's eyes narrowed. "You are aware, I'm sure, of the requirement to document all illnesses resulting in lost time at work?"

"Erm…yes, sir," Susan replied, pulling out a piece of parchment from her pocket.

The Special Assistant snatched the parchment from Susan's fingers, looking for potential irregularities. The note stated that Susan was ill the day previous and treated by her family healer for "feminine issues." This caused Percy's face to flush with embarrassment. He returned the note too quickly to realize that Susan's note was signed by "H. Abbot".

"Yes, well, erm….everything appears to be in order," he stammered. "Take care that you give that note to your supervisor."

"Yes, Director," Susan said with a sly grin.

Susan and Percy were the only two within the lift traveling up to Level One, as long as you didn't count the airborne memos hovering overhead. When the doors opened Percy followed the flock as it darted towards the Offices of the Minister of Magic, while Susan headed off to the much smaller area that was home to the rarely used International Portkey Terminal.

Back in the days of relative peace and tranquility, between the fall of Grindelwold and the first rise of Voldemort, the Ministry of Magic's gateway terminal was, if not flourishing, at least used on a fairly regular basis. But after Voldemort's two reins of terror, and the Ministry's belligerent attitude towards foreigners, the terminal was now about as busy as the Centaur Liaison Office. The size of the facility matched the infrequency of its use…while it once occupied the entire first level of the Ministry, it now had a footprint only slightly larger than the average-sized Hogwarts broom closet (with Cornelius Fudge having commandeered the balance of the space to accommodate expansive chief executive offices whose square footage more closely matched the size of his ego).

At present, Susan's official workplace consisted of a ten-foot diameter target platform and two wooden desks. She shared the immigration control desk with a sixth-year Ravenclaw (who typically worked second shift). The other was used by Susan's supervisor…an elderly wizard who doubled as the overnight watch. It was his shift that was coming to an end with the Hufflepuff's arrival.

"Good Morning, Mr. Jarvis," Susan said as she approached the first desk.

"Morning, Miss Susan," her supervisor replied, as he placed a slip of parchment into the muggle novel that he was reading. "Good to see you today."

"Thanks, and sorry for needing to call in like I did yesterday."

"No matter," the wizard replied, as he pointed towards a short stack of paperbacks on the opposite desk. "Gave me the chance to finish off that 'Gunslinger' series."

Susan smiled. Her supervisor loved to read serialized muggle novels about the American Wild West, but could only do so at work, as his snooty witch of a wife forbade him to keep the "filthy" books at their house.

"Oh, that reminds me," she said, as she pulled a slightly dog-eared paperback out of her bag and slipped her excuse in between the pages. "Here's my medical excuse."

The supervisor's eyes lit up at the sight of the Zane Gray novel. "Susan, you know me too well," he said, as he took the book in hand. "Just to be sure…this isn't an attempt to curry favor with your boss, right?"

"Absolutely not," Susan replied with a straight face. "Just think of it as a very thick envelope for my parchment."

The wizard smiled at the unspoken quid pro quo. That smile turned into a frown when a bell clanged, indicating that his shift had officially ended. He looked at the wall clock, then down at the book, and finally back up to Susan.

"Are you sure that you're feeling well enough to work today?" he asked. "I really wouldn't mind covering for you, if you needed to rest…."

The young witch quickly replied, "I'm feeling fine right now sir, but I won't hesitate to call you back if I suffer some sort of relapse."

'I'll hold you to that, Miss Bones," the wizard said, as he reluctantly slipped the new book into his desk drawer and collected his cloak.

As her boss left the room, Susan sat down at the desk with her own bit of private (and anticipatory) muggle reading laid out on the desk…the August issue of "Modern Bride." She flipped through pages with one hand, while her wand was clasped firmly with the other…just as one eye was trained on the clock even as the other scanned the pages.

Susan had just started in on "100 Romantic Honeymoon Hideaways" when a cascade of bright lights signaled multiple portkey arrivals.

The sight of the five persons appearing suddenly on the platform startled Susan…not having attended the Quidditch World Cup, she had never been exposed to the faces and clothing styles of the wizards and witches now standing before her.

A short bald man dressed in a forest green kimono stepped forward and ran head-first into an invisible barrier before Susan could warn him about the magical restraining field. Three of the other four immediately raised their wands towards Susan, while the other raised his right hand in an open-fingered claw, as if he was about to deliver a slashing strike.

"We are here on official ICW business," the kimono-wearing wizard said loudly as he held out an embossed scroll. "You are obligated to release us immediately."

Susan gave the group a furtive nod, then held her opened hand out in a "wait" signal and looked nervously over her shoulder. When there was no immediate response to the alarm, she turned back and asked, "So why were the salmon running?"

The group relaxed visibly as the Emperor's wizard raised an eyebrow.

"To avoid the water hazard on the fourth hole."

Having received the correct answer to Hermione's unique challenge question, Susan nodded. "Give me a few seconds." She then made her way over to her supervisor's desk, where a set of magically-charged crystals were glowing. She wasn't supposed to know the authorization sequence, but her boss had been just a little too trusting of his favorite supplier of illicit muggle fiction.

The correct sequence of wand tip touches to the set of crystals caused the barrier to come down. The five immediately stepped off of the platform, with the tall blonde witch and tall white-haired wizard in the group stepping out into a defensive position that covered both Susan and the doorway that led out into the Ministry.

A slight South Asian wizard, and a large heavily tattooed Maori sorcerer who had held a claw fist stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the bald Asian wizard.

"I'm Susan Bones, one of the Queen's Wizard's crew, and I just broke enough rules to land me in Azkaban for a few years," the witch said nervously. "They'll be Aurors here soon responding to a silent alarm, so welcome to Britain, and I'm out of here."

The Emperor's Wizard bowed. "I understand. Thank you for your assistance Miss Bones."

Susan ran over to her desk, where she shouldered her bag and ripped the last page out of her magazine. Wand in hand, she activated this hidden portkey just as Percy Weasley and a group of Aurors rushed into the room.

"What is the meaning of this?" Percy bellowed. "You are supposed to be on the other side of the barrier! What have you done with Susan Bones!"

"Is that how the Ministry of Magic treats every official delegation from the ICW?" asked the Emperor's Wizard. He stepped forward and held the Supreme Mugwump's writ in front of a suddenly paled-face wizard.

"I am Matsuhisa Yukihiro, charged by the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards to investigate an alleged serious breach in secrecy," the wizard stated. "Where can we find the official named Percy Weasley?"

The red-headed wizard was too shocked to stammer out a response, leaving it to the Aurors to give him up with pointed fingers.

"Not yet…not supposed to…." he stammered. But then the bureaucratic git within him took hold and demanded that the Special Assistant grow a pair. Percy stiffened both his back and his resolve, and declared, "According to ICW protocols, the Ministry has 48 hours at the start of any inquiry period to review the warrant and assemble relevant documentation."

The Emperor's Wizard turned to his South Asian colleague. "Jay?"

The tan-skinned wizard nodded. "What he says is true, but only so long as the Ministry officially accepts notice of the inquiry."

The Japanese wizard turned back to Percy. "You don't look like someone important enough to have that kind of authority…fetch us someone who does."

The Special Assistant to the Minister frowned at the insult. "I'll have you know that I am a member of the Minister's Cabinet, and most certainly do have that level of authority."

"Prove it," snarled the Swedish witch from across the room.

Percy scowled at the King's Witch as he indignantly held his wand tip to the writ.

"I, Percy Weasley, Special Assistant to the Minister of Magic, do hereby accept possession of this writ of inquiry."

The parchment glowed in response.

Sanjay "Jay" Tiwari smiled. "The waiting period has now begun," he intoned. "You must, of course, inform your staff of the magical penalties that will automatically fall upon any Ministry employee that knowingly destroys, hides, or alters any evidence associated with the inquiry?"

Percy took in a deep breath, and let a silent string of curse words worthy of his mum's soap spells play out inside his head.

"Of course," he replied. He looked up at the wall clock and said, "You will be welcomed back to the Ministry on Friday, at 8:26am." Percy then gestured towards the platform. "Until that time, then?"

The Emperor's Wizard shrugged off the attempt to get rid of them. "We will, of course, stay within the country during the waiting period," he declared. "Just to ensure that there aren't any barriers to our return.

Percy gave a curt nod in reply, knowing full well that he couldn't legally force the delegation to leave.

"Would you like the Ministry to make arrangements for your stay?"

The heavily tattooed Maori sorcerer snorted once more, causing Percy to jump.

"Thank you, Special Assistant to the Minister," Matsuhisa said with a shallow bow. "We will arrange our own accommodations."

The red-headed wizard nodded. "Aurors," he said loudly, "take these people directly to the outbound Floos. Make sure that they each throw enough powder into the fire."

"Yes, Sir," said one of the Aurors. The group formed ranks around the foreign witch and wizards and led them out of the Terminal.

Percy followed close behind, veering off towards the Minister of Magic's office when the party reached the lifts. He then barged brazenly into his boss's office, ignoring the complaints of Scrimgeour's administrative assistant that her boss was in the middle of a floo call.

The former Auror was rather angry when he pulled his head out of the fireplace.

"This had better be important, Wetherbee."

"I'm afraid that it is, Minister," Percy said with resignation.

Taking the writ that Percy held out, the Minister of Magic quickly scanned its contents.

"How were they able to serve you these papers?" Rufus asked pointedly.

"I don't know sir," Percy replied. "The barrier was down when we arrived, and none of our people were in the room."

"Who was on duty there?"

"Susan Bones."

"Damn…one of Potter's spies, no doubt," Scrimgeour swore. "And you actually accepted it?"

"Didn't see that I had a choice," Weasley replied defensively. "It was the only way to buy us some time."

Rufus growled, but reluctantly agreed with the assessment.

"Forty-eight hours, right?"

"Yes, Sir."

"And there's nasty magic ahead if we try to bury the evidence against us?"

Percy nodded. "What are we going to do, Sir?"

Scrimgeour scowled. "Gather the evidence, for now…meanwhile, Project Arcanum's implementation date just got pushed forward."

"But sir…we've been having problems finding a vetted wizard that's both powerful enough and willing to do the charm."

Rufus snorted. "Then look harder, and sod the vetting."

Percy nodded nervously. "Knockturn Alley, then?"

Scrimgeour rolled his eyes. "No, you fool…do you actually think you'd be able to find a powerful enough witch or wizard there that wasn't already a Death Eater?"

"Erm…."

"Overseas, Percy…overseas."

"Yes, sir," the Special Assistant replied. Taking the lack of any follow-up statements as a dismissal, Percy left the Minister's office with a worried expression on his face.

oo00OO00oo

8:50am, Cabinet Office Briefing Room A, 10 Downing Street, London

Senior Advisor/Special Ambassador/Secret Agent/Order of Arthur Member Hermione Granger struggled to stay awake as the muggle Defense Minister finish his presentation on the previous night's SAS missions. She found the most effective stimulant to be reconsideration on whether her defense of her colleague's competencies had been premature.

The meeting had started with her report on her trip to Japan, the meeting with the Supreme Mugwump, and the inquiry that was to take place when the Emperor's Wizard and his colleagues portkeyed from Oslo to London. Then, she commented on the MI-5 forensic review of the four Death Eaters who had been killed in the SAS attacks on the two safe-houses, and was asked to explain why portkey destinations couldn't be unraveled without actually using them, and why using a dead Death Eater's escape portkey wasn't a very smart idea. And that discussion led into the Defense Minister's droning, half-hour long recap on the SAS's Counter Revolutionary Warfare mission itself.

"To sum up," the Defense Minister stated, "The CRW teams successfully engaged the enemy, killing four of the terrorists without taking any casualties on our side. That more of the terrorists weren't apprehended is regrettable, but no fault of the troops who acted on inadequate intelligence."

Hermione's ears perked up at the accusation. "Excuse me, Minister," she stated, "but are you suggesting that Agent Potter gave you bad intel?"

"Not as such," the politician replied. "It wasn't that he provided bad information so much as he failed to provide enough good information."

"How so?" asked the MI-5 Director.

"Agent Potter stressed the need to incapacitate the targets before they could magically escape," the Minister replied. "But he failed to inform us that the incapacitating agents used during covert entries would be ineffective against magical people."

Hermione sighed. "And why was he expected anticipate you needing to know that fact? You never told him that you were going to try and anesthetize the targets…I mean, it's not like he's a mind reader."

"Really?" asked the Home Secretary.

"Okay," Hermione admitted, "maybe he is, but he didn't."

"The SAS doesn't care to share its tactics with just anyone, Miss Granger, and we had no reason to expect that the physiology of magical humans was any different than ours."

"Doesn't seem possible that it would be," muttered the Home Secretary.

Rolling her eyes, Hermione reached into a pocket, retrieved a stoppered vial of pepper-up potion, and swallowed its contents. The standard side-effects took hold after a few seconds, sending long plumes of hot steam out of her ears.

"Don't try that at home," the young witch said dryly.

"We could have used that information in advance," the Defense Minister stated.

"And you would have had it, had you enough sense to trust us," Hermione retorted sharply.

"When have we not asked for your views or not trusted your advice?" asked the Foreign Secretary.

"When you played Harry and myself last night," Hermione replied. "When Harry was told that 'yours is not to reason why'."

"But that was the military mission…you had no part of that…" objected the Defense Minister.

"But Harry did," Hermione replied. "And if you didn't already realize it, we came into governmental service packaged together."

"And you don't see any need for maintaining an effective chain of command, Dame Hermione?" asked the MI-6 Chief.

"Oh I do see such a need," the young witch replied. "But only when those making 'need to know' decisions are in the know in the first place. And only when you trust us just as much as we're expected to trust you."

"Now there's some cheek," the Home Secretary whined.

"Would you please explain that statement, Agent Granger?" the Met Commissioner asked.

Hermione shook her head. "I'm sorry…perhaps I should just leave and try to get back some of the sleep I lost last night."

"No, please, Hermione," the Prime Minister asked. "Have we….have I done something to cause you to lose some trust in us?"

Biting her lip, Hermione thought about her response. She really didn't want to cause more of a scene that she had already, but then again, she was a Gryff for a reason.

"Excluding our magical forces from the attack last night, sir," she finally replied. She raised her hands, anticipating the justifications from those that had made that decision, and added, "I appreciate the reasons behind the decision, but springing the news on Harry at the last minute, then expecting him to blindly obey orders…well, that's a problem."

"How so?"

"Harry's got some bad history with boneheaded politicians and authority figures who thought nothing of using him like a pawn on a chessboard in the name of the greater good," Hermione explained. "He's been treated like a child, and told what to do and when to do it by his so-called 'betters,' even as these betters place the burden of saving the world on his shoulders….what happened last night…it just played into the same kind of manipulative control that he's faced for years."

"And that's affected your ability to trust as well, Agent Granger?"

"Yes, sir," Hermione replied. "It was the first time…up to now, we've had nothing but unwavering support from the Queen and her government…we've been treated like the responsible adults that this war has forced us to become...and it's been brilliant."

"So if you don't get to always play the game by your rules, you complain and want to take your ball home with you?" quipped the Home Secretary.

"Oh, pipe down, Chisholm," said the Prime Minister. "The fact is…Sir Harry, Dame Hermione and all of the other magicals on our side do have their own set of rules that they have to mind…isn't that right, Hermione?"

"You mean the magical secrecy laws, sir?"

"Exactly," the Prime Minister replied. "Chisholm, you might not appreciate the balancing act that we've forced Hermione and Harry make, but it's there nonetheless. What I'm interested in is ways to raise the level of familiarity and trust all around."

"You know," the Defense Minister said, "it would have helped if our CRW lads had been able to see more of what they were up against, rather than just be told."

"But the magical detection and surveillance issues would be a problem, wouldn't they?" asked the MI-5 chief.

Hermione nodded in agreement. "We could set up some demonstrations at Windsor, where the shields are in play, but that's a rather high profile area…"

"What about Camp One?" asked the Prime Minister.

"Sir?"

"The SAS's main training base," the Prime Minister explained. "If you were to erect your shields over a remote training area, the troops could experience coming under spell fire without 'mom' finding out."

"That sounds like a great idea, sir," Hermione replied, smiling at the feminization of the Ministry of Magic's acronym. "I'm sure that TPOMS would benefit from that kind of facility as well."

A vibrating Art Club badge inside Hermione's jacket pocket caught her attention.

"Excuse me, sir, but this might be the call we've been expecting…"

When the Prime Minister nodded, she opened her jacket and activated her badge.

"Go ahead Dad, erm…I mean Agent Granger."

"Your guests have arrived at the Leaky Cauldron checkpoint, Hermione."

"Thanks, I'll be there as soon as I can."

The Special Ambassador looked to her boss as she deactivated the badge.

The Prime Minister nodded. "I think that we're done here," he declared. "We'll pick up the issue of Camp One this afternoon. Until then, ladies and gentlemen…."

The meeting thus adjourned, Hermione walked up to ground level, and out onto the street. Two Land Rovers were waiting there, ready to make the short trip down Charing Cross Road.

oo00OO00oo

The MI-5 ¾ agents stationed outside of the muggle entrance to the Leaky Cauldron informed Hermione that her father had secured one of Tom's private rooms for her guests. She walked inside, and not finding anyone in the bar called out the publican's name. The bald-headed owner answered back, and came out from the kitchen wiping his hands on his apron.

"How are you today, Tom?" she asked.

"Busy, thank Merlin and thanks to you and your Mr. Potter," he replied. "Don't know how I'd been able to stay in business were it not for the take away business that your people have been providing …can I get you some breakfast? Tea?"

"No thanks, Tom," Hermione. "I was looking for my dad, actually."

"Room 1, right around back," the publican replied.

Hermione thanked the bar man and made her way back to the largest of Tom's private rooms, where the five foreign magicals were extolling the quality of English tea as readily as they were dissing the quality of English cuisine.

The King's Wizard rose from the table when he spotted her and moved to shake Hermione's hand.

"Well, you're looking far more chipper than I feel, Ambassador…sure you and I were on the same trip?"

Hermione nodded. "The power of pepper-up, I'm afraid…I'll be paying for it later tonight."

The elderly wizard smiled. "Wish these old bones could handle that kind of jolt to the system."

"So how was the trip?" she asked.

"Uneventful," Thorson replied. "Matsuhisa-san and I got a few hours sleep at Dyrrheim while we waited for our companions…which I should introduce you to."

The King's Wizard introduced Hermione to Anna Glantz, who was the King's Witch from Sweden, Sanjay Tiwari, a senior bureaucrat from the Indian Ministry of Magic, and Rongo, the Maori Sorcerer.

Hermione's attention (like her father's) was inexorably drawn to the quiet New Zealander, who at 6 foot 4 inches height and nineteen stone would have been an imposing presence even without the geometric tattoos that covered his face like a mask. And then there was his attire…an All Blacks rugby jersey over a beaded flax skirt (called a piupiu) and plastic flip-flops.

"Welcome to Britain," she said, "and thank you for coming to our assistance on such short notice."

"It is we that should thank you, Ambassador Granger," replied the Indian wizard. "There are many who have worried for years about the situation in Britain, but always without the means to do anything about it. You may have provided just such an opportunity."

Hermione blushed a bit. "Well, I was really just the messenger."

"But a messenger that knew, or knew where to find out about ICW regulations, yes?" asked the Swede. "And the courage to seek out an inquiry despite the risk that some of her own actions may be at odds with certain secrecy statutes?"

"Now, we've been very careful about maintaining secrecy," Hermione replied defensively. "It's been a rather tall order to keep a lid on things, given how the Death Eaters have attacked the muggle world."

"Relax, child," the witch replied. "We are well aware of just how narrowly we dodged an Unforgivable this past week with those multiple attacks…and we certainly don't think that it was your Ministry of Magic that had the level-headedness and creativity needed to come up with the idea of nerve gas as a cover story."

Hermione didn't much care for the idea of being called a child, but not enough to risk offending her guests. The King's Wizard helped by stepping into the conversation.

"Well, we ought to have enough time over the next two days to explore that…no need to get into the specifics right now."

"Two days?" asked Hermione.

"Your Ministry has invoked the right to collect inquiry-related documents over a two day period," Tiwari stated. "We can not start an investigation into the specific charges until this time period has ended."

Hermione looked to Thorson and Matsuhisa for confirmation.

"Sorry, Ambassador, but I'm afraid that he's right," said the Emperor's Wizard. "I forgot about that aspect of the writ when I explained the process earlier this morning….or last night, depending on your time zone."

"Oh, that's alright," Hermione replied. "I know that things have to work at their own pace." She paused, and then asked, "Have you made any specific plans for the next 48 hours?"

"Not really," the Japanese wizard admitted. "We might use the time to gather general observations about conditions within the British wizarding world."

"Perhaps you have suggestions on constructive uses of our time?" the King's Wizard asked.

"Well…" Hermione replied, "this might be foolish on my part, but we've started a kind of summer school for Hogwarts students that were excluded from the Ministry's internship program because of blood status."

"Your Summer Institute, yes?" asked the Emperor's Wizard.

Hermione nodded. "I'll admit up front that it doesn't have official Ministry authorization, but all of our instructors are current or former Hogwarts staff…and given the possibilities that Hogwarts might not open in the fall, it would be the only way these students would get to practice defensive spells, because we know that the Death Eaters are going after them and their families…"

"Excuse me, Ambassador," the Indian wizard said. "You are concerned with possible violations of law regarding underage magic use?"

Hermione reluctantly nodded.

"Then your concerns may be unwarranted," the wizard opined.

"But," noted Hermione, "the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery…"

Is a bylaw of the British Ministry, not the ICW," Tiwari noted. "It is how your Ministry has decided to enforce the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy, which is an ICW law."

"Each magical government is allowed to set its own path to ensuring our secrets," Matsuhisa added. "We are not here to enforce Ministry laws…in fact, the ICW can only intervene if the Ministry's bylaws and decrees fail to hide our presence from the world at large."

"So tell me, Ambassador," said Thorson. "Is the use of magic at your Summer Institute making the existence of magic known to the muggle world?"

"No," Hermione said, relieved that the discussion was going in a safe direction. "The Summer Institute is hidden so well that even the Ministry doesn't know about it."

"There you go," the King's Wizard concluded with a warm smile. "No harm, no foul."

"Is there a reason why you raised the issue, Miss Granger?" asked the Swedish witch.

Hermione nodded.

"We learn so little about the outside wizarding world at Hogwarts…Professor Thorson has written a book on the history of magic, and one of the DADA instructors we had lined up is still hurt and in St. Mungo's…"

"I think that my daughter is wondering if any of you would be willing to give a guest lecture or two," interrupted Roger Granger.

Hermione bit her lip as she nodded. "We would be happy to offer honorariums, and could offer you room and board there…I'm sure that our students and staff would be more than willing to talk about their experiences if you wanted to learn more about conditions here in Britain…"

"That sounds like a marvelous opportunity all around," suggested the Indian wizard.

The Emperor's Wizard looked around the table, and after getting affirmative responses (three head nods and a grunt from the Maori who still hadn't spoke a word since his arrival), accepted Hermione's proposal.

"Is there a way to reach this Summer Institute without magical travel?" asked the King's witch. "I'm certain that our magical signatures were scanned when we floo'ed out of the Ministry this morning, and I'd like to be able to travel without being tracked."

"I've got muggle vehicles waiting outside," Hermione replied. "Going against the rush, we'd be at Cumberland Lodge inside of forty minutes."

"We?" asked the King's Wizard. "I thought that you had plans to be in Scotland with the Queen this afternoon?"

"I do," Hermione admitted, "but I can get up there quick enough on my own."

The Japanese Wizard then said, "The Emperor asked that I convey his regards to Her Majesty the Queen, and I would enjoy the opportunity to meet the newest royal wizard."

The Norwegian King's Wizard grinned. "Same here, and I'd love to take a look at the rune sets that you're using on those attenuated wards."

"I bet you would," Hermione said with a smile. She looked down at her watch. "What do you think, Dad?" she asked. "Flight times to Edinburgh?"

"Hour and fifteen…hour and a half," Roger replied. "RAF Northrup is not that far from Windsor…we could see if air transport could arranged during the ride out."

"Excellent," replied the Japanese wizard. He stood back from the table and added, "Are we done here?"

Mr. Granger looked at the half-eaten plates of food and asked, "We could box up your breakfast, if you wanted."

The Emperor's Wizard looked down at the table, then at the others, and shook his head.

"This food is certainly filling, but…."

"But he wishes we that the three of us did some more fishing on the return trip," the Norwegian said with a smile.

Hermione snorted. "We do have fresh fish here too, you know."

The Emperor's Wizard smiled and bowed towards Hermione. "I would be grateful to experience that fact, Ambassador."

oo00OO00oo

9:20am, Haven's Head, Milford Haven, Wales

The portkey magically attached to the three of clubs deposited Voldemort into a rusted-out shipping container perched on top of a pile of construction debris. He squatted down, with wand outstretched, listening for any sounds of activity outside of the steel box. Hearing none, he carefully pushed the container door open and stepped out into the sunshine of a fine summer's morning.

Fine, that is, unless you were a Dark Lord on the lamb.

This was the second time that morning he had tried to go to ground. His first choice had been a remote cave on the northern coast of Scotland…which would have been a fine place to hide, had it not been for the presence of a man-eating squatter who apparently hadn't gotten the memo that said that man-eating quintapeds only lived on the unplottable Isle of Drear. It was the thought of a much more mugglish, more hospitable hideaway that caused the Dark Lord to hastily retreat to his present locale…a rogue waste dump located on a bluff known as "Haven's Head," above the coastal town of Milford Haven.

From his vantage point, Voldemort could look down onto the coastal community known as the best deepwater port in Britain. But the Dark Lord wasn't there for the views of the docks…he had arrived to make use of a facility that had been created because of those docks.

In the 1930's, the muggle military had exploited the port's ability to host large oil tankers and built a system of underground storage tanks within the bluffs that overlooked the bay. The tankers could off-load refined heating oil and aviation fuel directly into these tanks through pipelines that connected bluff to bay. While the advantages of underground fuel storage were obvious during German bombing raids during the Second World War, the RAF continued to use these tanks after the war ended to fuel a Cold War-era bomber base. But when this base closed down in the 1970's the tank farm and pipeline were abandoned, and became one of the more larger examples of the coastal structures built to defend Fortress Britain.

It was a ten-yard walk from the container to a concrete blockhouse, and a tunnel that hosted four 12 inch diameter pipelines. The locked steel gate that protected this tunnel entrance had been replaced with repelling and tripwire wards keyed to anyone who wasn't a Death Eater. Beyond this opening, a rectangular, concrete-walled tunnel sloped steeply upwards for fifty yards before leveling off…while stairs had been cut into the floor, a magic carpet (stolen from a Light family manor) provided alternative transport for those who knew how to use it.

A wand touch to a particular rock wall activated a set of charmed, flame-free lights (the first Death Eaters to have explored this tunnel had learned the hard way that blue bell flames weren't good ideas when there was a smell of aviation fuel in the air). Voldemort climbed aboard the carpet (stashed behind a low cinder block wall) and compelled the carpet to climb up the tunnel.

The smell of petroleum grew stronger as the tunnel leveled off to a horizontal drift some hundred yards long. Five different alcoves led to individual storage tanks. The Dark Lord turned off at the second alcove and leaned down close to the carpet so that he could pass through the opened inspection hatch and into the tank proper.

The air began to freshen within the 100-foot diameter, 27-foot high tank just as soon as Volemort closed the hatch behind him…when the site had been converted for Death Eater use ventilation holes had been blasted into the tank roof. These holes also let in rain and groundwater, and caused the tank to fill a foot deep with water. But the Death Eaters had anticipated this, and built an island of rock and debris in the center of the tank, creating a twenty-foot diameter patch of ground dry enough to pitch a tent.

Voldemort floated over to the island and stepped off the carpet. The magical tent that was strapped to his back pitched itself, once he set the corners down, and he walked inside, eager to wash off the filth and sweat he'd collected along the way. Once he emerged from the shower he toweled off, threw on a lightweight robe, and checked the kitchen pantry. Voldemort pulled out a meat pie, warmed it up on a charmed hot plate, and sat down to a late breakfast.

He figured that there was about three weeks worth of provisions stocked in the tent…five weeks, or so, if he rationed.

As the Dark Lord sat there, alone at the table eating his pie, he wondered if that would be enough time for him to figure out just what in Merlin's name the muggles were capable of.