Muggle Summer, Wizard's Fall
Author's Note: I wanted to get farther along in the day with this chapter, but 8,000 words now is better than 16,000 words a couple of weeks from now, right?
Disclaimer: Not my characters, no money being made, etc., etc.
Chapter 64: A Busy Morning
Thursday, July 12, 5:00am, Haven's Head, Milford Haven, Wales
The Dark Lord went against his better judgment and crawled out of his hidey-hole in the early-morning pre-dawn in search of some good news. He could have gone straight to the hippogriff's mouth and portkeyed to Rookwood's or Rodolphus Lestrange's separate hiding places, but with the way things had been going...well, there was a reason why he hadn't given Rookwood a portkey that transported him to Milford Haven. And so he chose a different path (both figuratively and literally).
Voldemort took care not to do magic or otherwise draw notice towards him during the fifteen-minute walk from the bluff down into the nearest muggle neighborhood. That the gaunt nose-less wraith went unnoticed had more to do with the lack of people out at that early hour than any non-magical stealth skills he possessed. A modest bungalow with a small pile of folded newspapers on its front steps provided exactly what he was looking for…a relatively risk-free source of news. He cautiously approached the house and scooped up the papers under an arm. The loud bark of a neighbor's dog kept him from overstaying his visit. He walked briskly back to the curb with wand and hand, then down the street and back up to the bluff, where the magic carpet waited to ferry him back up the pipe chase and into his isolated lair.
The week's worth of Western Mail that had accumulated while the muggle homeowner was on holiday didn't need to be sorted out by date…the one whose headlines screamed "TERRORISTS CRASH QUEEN'S GARDEN PARTY!" was clearly the most recent. Voldemort snatched the paper up and did a rush read of what was (for him at least) very bad news.
A second, more careful reading allowed the wizard to read between the lines.
The muggle Queen and Harry Potter lived, which meant that Lestrange had somehow failed.
The muggles believed that the attack was performed by muggle terrorists. This suggested that the Ministry had been able to clean up or cover up after the attack. But then Voldemort remembered the muggle bullet hole in Alecto Carrow's head, and wondered whether it might have been Potter and the muggles who were doing the covering up. And if it had been the muggles who had successfully repelled the attack, and actually killed six of his men (as the paper had claimed), then it was Potter who might have the escape portkeys that they had all carried.
And if Rookwood had been one of the wizards who had been killed or captured?
Voldemort cycled through Occlumency exercises that kept his temper (and more importantly, his magic) under control. This gave him the time and temperament required to review the limited options before him. Harry Potter was just brave enough and stupid enough to activate a blind portkey to see where it led. Which meant that there had been purpose behind the paranoia that had led him to steal newspapers from muggle stoops…the cave in Cornwall that had been Rookwood's portkey destination really could not be considered secure.
He had to assume the worst, and plan from there. Writing off Lestrange and his men meant that the cursed and wounded wizards under Snape's medicinal care now comprised the bulk of his fighting force. The potions that were needed to bring them back to health would take at least one more week to concoct and administer, under optimal circumstances. And if the muggles were to overreact to the attack and lash out against the wizarding world, their targets would be those that were the most visible…not those who had gone to ground.
There was more than enough food in the magical pantry to last the week, but Voldemort took no chances, and prepared a meager ration of egg and bacon for breakfast.
5:45am, Balmoral Castle. Aberdeenshire, Scotland
Harry woke to the sensation of a hand rubbing small circles on his back.
"Hmmm…feels good."
"Ssshh...go back to sleep, Harry…we've still got forty-five minutes before Hannah will want her bed back."
This response led the Queen's Wizard to recall where he was and how he got there. With eyes now opened and a mind now cleared, he flipped over to face his girlfriend and immediately began to chuckle.
"What's so funny?" Hermione asked.
Harry paused, so that he could permanently archive the memory…Hermione sitting cross-legged in bed, dressed only in a Potter Plaid thong. The hand that hadn't been rubbing his back had been used to sort e-mail on a BlackBerry that sat high on her upper thigh.
Pulling her other hand to his lips, he gave it a tender kiss and asked, "Do you know just how sexy you are when you multi-task?"
"Hush," Hermione chided, pulling her hand back. "You weren't sleeping very well, so I thought that…."
"Yeah, thanks."
"So go back to sleep, already."
Harry shook his head as he reached for his wand.
"No, I can't imagine that my mailbox is any less full than my bladder." He then transfigured his own tartan thong into less-revealing boxers and asked, "Think my transfiguration will last long enough for me to make it to the loo?"
"I don't think that any of the witches-in-waiting would mind if it didn't."
"Right, so it's the jacket too…it's almost long enough to cover," Harry replied, as he pulled his TPOMS field jacket out of his sack and slipped his arms into the sleeves.
"It's the door behind Padma's bed, next to the hearth," Hermione said with a smile. "Don't get lost along the way."
"Maybe I should have you lead me there and back?"
"Tempting…but that's exactly the sort of thing that Parvati would expect of us."
"So why disappoint her?"
"Go!" ordered Hermione.
"Yes, Ma'am," Harry said with a cheeky salute, as he grabbed his bag and slipped out through the curtains. Treading lightly across the room so as not to wake the others, he made it to the loo without incident.
oo00OO00oo
The stream of hot water that beat down on the Queen's Wizard's shoulders was far less effective than Hermione's comforting hand when it came to keeping his spirits up. His nightmares had melded the good and bad of the previous day…both the Garden Party attack, and Hermione's unguarded thoughts about their relationship. What came out was a replay that focused on the muggle family that had been abused and held hostage in Edinburgh. Or to be more precise, on their situation…in Harry's dreams, it had been Hermione and he who had been held hostage, Hermione who had been used and abused by the Death Eaters, and their children that had been forced to watch helpless as their mum was violated. The despair and helplessness that he felt during these dreams began to creep back into Harry's thoughts, and kept him from even noticing the fact that in those dreams he was not only married to Hermione, but the father of her children.
Any ideas he had brought into the bath about returning to Hannah's borrowed bed and ravishing his girlfriend flowed down the shower drain along with the gray water. Righteous anger rode in on the back of an adrenaline rush, as he roughly toweled off and stepped into his kilt. By the time he'd fastened his belt and slipped into his dragonskin boots, Harry had decided that some combination of physical activity and physical violence would be needed before he either went off on the captured Death Eaters, or activated one of the their confiscated portkeys with both wand and gun blazing.
The solution came when Harry pulled the magical scabbard that held a third weapon from his rucksack. With a determined grin he slipped the leather harness over his shoulders, pulled the Sword of Gryffindor cleanly from its scabbard, grabbed his wand, and strode bare-chested back into the witches-in-waiting's bedchambers.
Hannah's bed had gotten crowded in his absence, and his drawn sword and bared chest drew a chorus of non-verbal utterances that were tinged with surprise, shock, and no small amount of lust.
"Erm…Good Morning?" he stammered.
"Good Morning, Harry," four witches cooed in unison.
Harry tried to focus on Hermione face. It helped that she had thrown a white t-shirt on over her thong. It didn't help that Padma, Parvati and Susan were wearing no more than they had the night previous.
"Erm…sorry," he said softy. "Didn't mean to scare you…or to wake you up."
"No worries, Harry…it was entirely intentional," Parvati quipped.
"How…."
"I cast a detection charm on your bed curtains last night," explained Padma. "It set off an alarm when you got out of bed."
"But I didn't hear any alarm?"
"It was a silent type," Padma stated.
"Yeah, it was set to vibrate," added Parvati cheekily. "Three guesses where it was set to go off."
"Hush," Padma admonished.
"So why…."
"We wanted the chance to do some girl talk with Hermione," offered Parvati.
"And the chance to see you less than fully dressed was just incidental, right girls?" asked Hermione.
"Well that part worked," said Susan, as she gazed appreciatively at the defined muscles on Harry's bared chest.
"In a rush to get somewhere, Harry?" Hermione asked.
"Erm, no…I mean yes," he replied. "Wanted to get in a quick workout with my sword."
Hermione cocked her head to one angle in thought.
"Bit too early to wake Sir Evan and badge-jump to Windsor, or to find a sparring partner, don't you think?"
"Yeah…I was just going to find a tree to hack at around here," Harry replied.
"What…and show the world your secret weapon?" Hermione asked.
"That I've got a sword isn't that secret, is it?"
"No, but which sword you've got and the way you've begun to wield it is, though."
"Do you have a better idea in mind, then?"
"Yes, actually," Hermione replied with a smile. She then drew her wand and transfigured a desk chair into a two-foot diameter wooden post that stretched from floor to ceiling.
Harry arched an eyebrow.
"Okay, so it's out of view, but there's not a lot of room to move around, is there?"
Hermione rolled her eyes, and cast spells that shrank down every piece of furniture in the room down to miniature size, save for the bed that she and the other three witches were sitting on.
"Any other excuses, then?"
Harry snorted as some of the steam that was fueling his energy and emotions bled off. Two or three other possible counter-arguments came to mind, but the "Hermione voice" inside of his head parried them before the real Hermione got the chance. So he slid his rucksack to the side, and cast a spell towards the four witches.
"A shield, to keep errant splinters from attacking you," he explained with a smile.
"Better make it two-way, so that we don't attack him," Parvati muttered.
"Remember the rules, ladies," Hermione said. "Look, but don't touch."
"Aww….are you sure we can't form a harem?" Parvati teased.
"Do you want to watch or not?" Hermione asked pointedly.
"Alright, alright…just teasing you," Parvati replied. "Not that you have anything to worry about."
"How's that?"
Padma shook her head in disbelief as Harry began to break into a sweat as he hacked away at the post. She ran hand down the front of her thin tartan-patterned camisole and said, "Oh, please…despite how little we have on, the only Potter Plaid that his eyes were glued to was the bit that's between your legs."
Hermione sighed, masking the glee that this assessment had produced with a neutral nod towards Parvati.
"And the only Potter Plaid that your sister's eyes are glued to is covering my boyfriend's bum."
"It's doing too good of a job," Parvati quipped. "Don't you think he'd be more comfortable if that kilt's hem were a little higher?"
"No…it's no longer than what the Highland warriors wore back in the day," Hermione replied.
"Just a few inches, Hermione?"
"How many is 'a few?"
"Fourteen or fifteen?"
Hermione rolled her eyes.
"In your dreams, Parvati."
"Well that's going to be true enough," the light brown-skinned witch admitted with a sigh. "Can you blame me for asking, though?"
Hermione shifted her attention from her dorm mate back out into the room, where Harry had begun to incorporate twirls and thrusts into his routine that revealed firm thighs and teased with the possibility of seeing more.
"No," she replied brightly. "I guess I can't."
There was a brief lull in the conversation that Susan used to check the time.
"Oh darn, I need to get ready for my shift…Hannah's getting off soon."
Parvati laughed. "Well, she's not the only one."
"Parvati?" Hermione cautioned.
"Yes, Lady Gryffindor, I'll be good, Lady Gryffindor," her dorm mate replied in a sing-song voice.
"Hey…I don't have that title yet," Hermione protested.
"Not yet?" Padma asked with an arched eyebrow. She reached out for the Gryffindor's hand and inspected the ring finger. "So exactly when will it become applicable?"
"Come on," Hermione protested. "We've only been together for a few weeks!"
"Oh please," snarked Parvati. "You two have only been sleeping together for a few weeks, but you've been together for six years…just didn't want to admit it."
"But…we're not sleeping together...we're just sharing a bed."
"A difference only in degree, and only if that's true," Padma stated. "And you did say 'not yet,' so don't tell me you aren't thinking about it."
Hermione smiled slyly. "Ok," she replied. "I won't tell you."
"Really? So start talking!"
"Sorry, but I've really got to get going," Hermione replied. Waving out towards her boyfriend, she added, "Besides, I have more important things to worry about than the color of my bridesmaid's gowns…like what else I can do to help Harry work out this excess energy."
The other three witches snorted.
"Do you really need suggestions?" Padma asked.
"Or do you just need some help draining Harry of his 'energy'?" added Parvati.
"Thank you for the kind offer, ladies," Hermione replied. "But I don't think I'll need any helping hands."
"How about a helping mouth, then?"
"Parvati!"
"Yes, Lady Gryffindor. Sorry, Lady Gryffindor. I'll be good, Lady Gryffindor."
oo00OO00oo
6:45am, Mayfair Hotel, London
Special Assistant to the Minister Percy Weasley woke up far too late, and in far too comfortable a bed for his own good. Reaching for the wand that sat on the ornate side table, he pulled himself up and padded off to the loo in search of a headache potion.
Not that he was able to find one in the most expensive suite of one of the most expensive muggle hotels in London.
Percy groaned as the events of the previous twenty-four hours filtered back into his memory. He feared the worst as he threw his robes over his head and ran out into the sitting room of the suite, and almost found it.
The worst thing would have been a missing Dutch Charms Master.
The next worst thing was a Dutch Charms Master watching pay-per-view muggle porn as he washed down a room service breakfast with £300 per bottle champagne.
"Hey Percy, buddy…you're alive," the Dutch wizard said with a smile. "Good thing, that…wouldn't fancy me being the one to pay for all this."
"What in Merlin's name do you think you're doing?"
"Waiting on you to take me to your leader, of course," Peter replied brightly. "But so long as you're here…pour yourself a flute and pull up a chair."
"No, I don't think…"
"What, don't fancy that sort of thing?" Peter asked, as he waved towards the telly. "No matter…think I saw a gay porno offered in the listings…I can set you up in the other room."
"No it's not that…I'm not that way….it's just….what I meant was…what….."
The young Dutchman grinned as Percy was taken in by the scene playing on the television.
"Yeah, it is amazing what some muggles can do…you'd think that there'd have to be an Engorgio involved somehow...or maybe a magical throat expansion."
Percy responded with a weak nod.
"So what time are we meeting your boss, Percy?"
"No…scheduled time…" the red-headed wizard replied, as he sat down next to the Dutchman.
"Excellent…there's more movies and more on the menu once this is done."
The Special Assistant to the Minister snorted, but didn't refuse the glass of champagne that was thrust into his hand as he stared at the screen.
If this was the sort of thing was going to cause him to lose his job, then at least he was going to enjoy it.
oo00OO00oo
7:15am, Balmoral Castle.
Susan Bones's need to get ready for her day shift, the return of Hannah from her night shift, and the influx of calls and reports at the start of another busy day all conspired to keep Hermione's hands from getting too naughty once Harry completed his hacking. The two settled for a sweaty hug before he headed off for a second shower, and she decided to rearrange her early morning schedule.
Thinking that Harry found almost as much solace in the air than in her arms, Hermione figured out how to rationalize an early morning flight. By the time that Harry had washed up and dressed (this time more fully), Hermione was kitted out in her combat blacks, and in the company of her parents, who were dressed in full combat gear.
"Attention!" barked Roger, as his wife and he snapped off a crisp salute.
Harry rolled his eyes. "At ease, Mr. and Mrs. Granger…what's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong, Harry," Hermione quickly replied. "I thought you might want to do some flying this morning."
"And we're the excuse," Emily said warmly, as she stepped forward and pulled Harry into her arms.
"How are you doing, Sir?" she asked.
"Mrs. Granger, please…."
"Yeah, Mum, aren't there rules about hugging a senior officer?"
"Well if there are, and if your boyfriend can't call me Emily, then I might rather resign my commission!"
"No worries, Mrs. Grang…erm, Emily," Harry replied. "Especially when it's just us." He then rapped his knuckles against Emily's body armor and added, "Although it's hard not to think of that when this stuff gets in the way of your hugs."
Emily laughed. "Yes, well we're still trying to get used to it as well."
"As are her students at the Summer Institute," Roger said with a smile. "Amazing how well the kids behave when their Headmistress patrols the halls carrying an Uzi."
"Roger!"
"What…you don't?"
"No, I do, but it's to protect the children, not to threaten them."
"And do they know that, Dear?"
"Well…."
Harry laughed at the banter, and then asked, "Have you a way back, though?"
Roger nodded. "Sir Evan can anchor us to The Round Tower, and Cumberland Lodge is just down the road from there."
Harry then turned to Hermione. "Not that I don't enjoy the visit, but can you rationalize it given all four of our schedules?"
"Absolutely," she replied. "I needed to get Mum and Dad keyed into Glengairn's wards, and as long as they're right there…well, you ought to check on your squadron deployment, Daddy ought to take a look at your new real estate holdings, and so long as they've come kitted with their wizardvision goggles maybe we could give them a fly-by around Hogwarts?
Harry arched an eyebrow. "We've really got time for a fly-by, Hermione?"
"Are you telling me that you're going to turn down a chance to fly?"
"Of course not," Harry replied. "So you're going to fly too?"
"Of course not," Hermione replied with a grin, as she nodded towards a long-handled broomstick that was propped up against the wall. "I had Fred hop back to the shop for one of the unmodified Bluebottles."
Harry gave the slow moving "minivan" of broomsticks a frown.
"Well, I guess it'd still be flying..."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Would you rather spend the next couple of hours filling out after-action reports?"
"No, no…this is obviously a much more important mission," Harry said quickly, as he took hold of the broom. "Shall we open a window and head off?"
"Not just yet, Seeker," Hermione advised, as she opened the flap on his rucksack and stuffed in the broomstick. "You've got a bit of fence-mending to do with the Black Watch."
oo00OO00oo
Hermione's idea of "fence-mending" involved transporting chafing dishes and coolers from the castle's kitchens into the back of a five-passenger Landy. The muggle driver assigned to provide transport for the Queen's Wizard arched an eyebrow when Harry and the three Grangers emerged from the castle…not so much for what the four were loading than how they were dressed.
Roger and Emily Granger sported four-color camouflage patterned jackets and trousers, matching body armor (chest plate and leg guards), sand-colored boots and gloves. It appeared to be standard military issue, but was anything but…the boots and gloves were dragonhide, the body armor magically thinned and lightened sheets of Kevlar and steel plating, and the uniform charmed to maintain a comfortable temperature.
Harry was dressed similarly, save for the bright red "Potter Plaid" kilt and sporran that substituted for trousers and thigh packs, and the rucksack on his back. Hermione, whose battlefield "cred" came from her MI-5 commission, sported full-black commando gear and matching black body armor underneath a tight-fitting Potter Plaid shawl. In consideration of their eventual destination, her hand gun was hidden in one of her thigh packs and her wand was strapped onto a black arm holster.
"Good morning, Private," Harry said cheerfully as he climbed into the front passenger seat.
"Morning, Major," he replied, as Hermione and her parents piled into the rear bench.
"Know where you're going then?" Harry asked.
"Erm, yes Sir," the driver said cautiously, eyeing the tartan pattern woven into the Queen's Wizard's kilt. He had heard stories in the motor pool about the people who wore that weave, but didn't dare ask about it…especially once Hermione answered a satellite phone call from Number 10 and began to discuss with "Tony" the need to brief in the Opposition Leader and his shadow cabinet.
The call from the Prime Minister's office kept other conversations from starting up as the Landy made its way up towards the moorland valley guarded by the broom-buzzed Black Watch. As they approached the checkpoint, Hermione finished the call, and Harry rolled down his window to address the soldier who had waved them to a stop.
"Good Morning, Sergeant."
"Morning, Sir," the infantryman said warily, as he looked inside the vehicle. "No broomsticks today, Sir?"
Harry's eyes darted over towards the driver, then narrowed as they came back upon the Black Watch sentinel.
"What are you on about, Sergeant?" he demanded. "We've brought breakfast, not broomsticks."
"Erm, Yes, Sir…sorry, Sir, don't know what I was saying."
"Obviously," said Harry, as he rolled his eyes and pulled on the flap of his maroon beret. "So go on, then…get your men queued up behind us and we'll set up a buffet line."
"All the men, sir?"
"Yes, Sergeant, all of them," Harry replied, as he got out of the vehicle. "The four of us can cover your watch for a few minutes."
"Thank you, Sir…much appreciated."
Harry nodded as he stretched his legs and stepped away from the Landy. He chuckled as he noted the defensive upgrades…the soldiers were climbing out of foxholes, their tank was hidden behind a wall of sandbags and earthwork, and the machine gun batteries had been augmented by an array of surface-to-air missiles.
"Looks like we made a favorable impression yesterday," he said, as Hermione and her parents joined him.
"If you mean that you scared the dickens out of them, then yes you did," Hermione gently chided.
"It was worth it if it makes them take their mission a little more seriously."
"So what is their mission, then?" asked Roger. "To keep wizards from getting out of the glen, or prevent muggles from going into it?"
"Both," Harry replied. "Although they'd be hard-pressed to stop any wizarding force that was strong enough to get past our forward position at Glengairn."
"So is this part of your new lands, Milord?" Emily asked with some cheek.
"Hey now," complained Harry. "Hermione is the only one who gets to address me as her lord."
"Oh, really? And when does that happen, dear?" Emily asked her daughter.
"Whenever Harry is dreaming," Hermione replied. She punctuated her response by punching her boyfriend in the shoulder.
"Hey!" he whined. "No beating up a superior officer!"
"Doesn't apply," Roger pointed out with a smile. "She's not in the Squadron, and you share the same rank in MI-5 ¾."
"Well….no cuffing the Clan Chief, then!"
"Are you saying that the Clan Chief outranks his Consort, dear?" Hermione asked sweetly.
"Oh, I'd think for a moment before I answer that one, son," Roger advised.
"Fair enough," Harry said with a snort. "To answer your question, Emily, my new lands start about three miles west of here…the Queen said that they could have been extended out this far, but she advised that I'd be hard pressed to generate income sufficient to cover the tax burden for these moorlands."
"But if you wanted a buffer zone, this would be hard to beat, wouldn't it?"
Harry shrugged his shoulders. "I guess, but at the time I didn't know that there'd be anything on the lands that required a buffer."
"There'd be even more of an uproar about the transfer out of the Crown Estate if the parcel were any larger than it already is," offered Roger.
"Oh, that's not going to be an issue," said Hermione. "Balmoral has never been part of the Crown Estate."
"Really?"
Hermione shook her head. "Price Albert bought it for Queen Victoria with his own money…it's been passed on as private property through different inheritances ever since."
"It's still going to be front page news, though," said her mum.
"We should be so lucky, given the attacks," said Harry. "That a simple real estate transaction would be the most newsworthy item of the day."
"Nothing is simple when it comes to you or the Queen, son," Roger said as he placed his arm around Harry's shoulders.
"Well I can't argue with that, can I?" the Queen's Wizard replied ruefully.
The muggle Sergeant who had first chatted with them approached, and reported that everyone has passed through the line.
"Right, then, you can send the driver back with the dirty dishes," Harry advised.
"Yes, Sir," the soldier replied. "And sorry about the broomstick reference, Sir…I didn't mean to be telling your secrets."
Harry nodded. "They're not just my secrets to keep, Sergeant….they're yours now, too."
"Yes, Sir…I won't forget. Just never thought that I'd have to sign on to the Official Secrets Act."
"Neither did I, Sergeant…neither did I," Harry replied, as he casually reached into his eighteen-inch long satchel and pulled out a seven-and-a-half foot long broomstick.
The muggle soldier gave the broomstick a close look as Harry placed it the ground.
"No forward guns on that one, Sir?" he asked.
Harry smiled. "Good spot, Sergeant…it's a stock model that's more minivan than military."
"If you say so, Sir."
Harry waited until the Land Rover had pulled around a bend and out of sight before yelling "Up!". The broom lifted up off the ground as the two rear "bench seats" shimmered with yellow-tinted magical energy.
"Hop on," said Harry, as he passed out flight helmets pulled from his bag, and climbed into the pilot's seat.
"We'll cover the rear," Roger announced, as he swapped out his beret for his helmet and swung his machine gun around to a ready position against his chest. Hermione's mum mirrored his actions as they climbed up onto either side of the rear bench. Facing away from each other, they hung their feet over the edges of the bench and fingered their gun triggers.
"Buckle us up, sweetheart?" Emily asked.
Hermione shook her head, still trying to wrap her mind around the idea of having parents who were armed with more than dental drills. She touched her wand tip to "seat belts" that wrapped around the waists of her two parents, before doing the same for herself in the middle bench. Seeing three "thumbs-up," Harry turned forward and called into the radio channel used by air traffic control.
"Phoenix Lead requesting permission to take-off from Black Watch Station."
"Phoenix Lead you are cleared for flight," replied a voice through the radio. "Good Luck, Major."
Harry turned to offer the soldier a departing salute, only to take note of the soldier's intense interest. He looked at his watch and asked, "Think we have time to give the sergeant here a ride up the valley and back?"
Hermione snorted, then shook her head. "Mission first, Harry…pony rides later."
"Ma'am, Yes Ma'am!" Harry said crisply.
He was started by the slap against the back of his helmet.
"You are a git sometimes, Harry," Hermione decided.
"Ah…but a lovable git, right?"
"I suppose."
The muggle solider had to settle for salutes and a handshake from Hermione before Harry sent the broom up the valley at a steep angle of ascent.
oo00OO00oo
The distance between the Black Watch's position and Glengairn's ward line was covered in very short order. A call out over the radio kept fingers off of triggers and hands from drawn wands once they came in sight of Glengairn and the sentinels that were now posted on its rooftop. While Hermione keyed her parents into the wards, Harry pulled hooded robes and tartan lap blankets from his bag. The robes hid their muggle military apparel, while the small blankets hid Roger and Emily's automatic weapons…this type of concealment would be necessary just as soon as they plunged into the valley on the other side.
Roger and Emily's reactions to Glengairn once they passed through the wards were no less dramatic than Harry's the day previous.
"It's beautiful," Emily gushed, as Harry ferried them to the top of the hill. "So lush…and green…and it's yours?"
The Queen's Wizard shrugged his shoulders. "That's what they tell me."
"But the flowers…and the shrubs…how can they thrive at this latitude…much less altitude?"
"Magic," Harry replied glibly. "Neville reckons that the same weather moderation spell that tempers the winters and keeps Black Lake from freezing over works up here as well."
Roger and Emily got their first glimpse of Black Lake when Harry flew the Bluebottle up to the roof of Glengairn Lodge, where Katie Bell and New Six were standing watch. While Hermione played tour guide and began pointing out places that her parents had only known previously through her letters, Harry chatted with his troops
"How are things looking?"
"A quiet night, Major," New Six replied.
"But only because there were silencing charms on the Love Shack you loaned out to Ron and Luna," Katie snarked.
Harry snorted and looked down at the formal garden, where the Love Shack had been pitched. The tent flaps were still drawn shut.
Looking down at his watch, he asked, "No sign of those two this morning, then?"
"No, Sir."
Harry sighed, and tried to call Ron using his Art Club badge. It took almost a minute's time before he got a response.
"Oh, poo!"
"Luna?"
"Sorry, Harry."
"Is something wrong?"
"Yes, Ronnie's badge just stopped vibrating. I must have nudged it the wrong way…would you hang up and call again?"
"Erm…Luna, why are you wearing Ron's badge?"
"Oh, I'm not wearing it…Ronnie and I aren't wearing anything at the moment."
"But how did you know that it was vibrating….wait, wait, don't tell me….is Ron there?"
"Yes."
"Can I talk with him please?"
"Erm, sorry, but Ronnie is busy checking me for overnight messages."
"Checking you for overnight…how is he doing…wait, wait, don't tell me."
"Okay, Harry."
"Will you have him call me when he's done…checking?"
"Sure Harry…it won't be much longer…even quicker if you called back."
"Erm…right. Thanks, Luna." Harry said hastily.
Katie Bell gave Harry a devilish look as he touched "off" his badge.
"You know, Harry…George knows a charm that turns his voice into a dead-on imitation of Molly's."
The Queen's Wizard paused for a moment to consider this statement, then matched Katie's grin. He called Ron's brother, then listened in on a "three-way" call that was made to the Love Shack.
It took almost as much time as the previous call for Luna to accidentally "lift" the vibrating receiver with an errant touch.
"Oh, poo…it stopped again."
"RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY!" George shouted using a a dead-on impersonation of his mum. "GET OFF OF YOUR GIRLFRIEND, AND GET YOURSELF OUT OF THAT DEN OF FORNICATION THIS MOMENT! NO SON OF MINE IS GOING TO….."
The volume of this faux tirade was sufficient to catch Hermione's notice.
"Harry…what is that?"
"Ron's alarm clock," he replied with a grin, as the Love Shack's tent flaps were thrown open and the Clan Champion exited whist trying to run and put on his boots at the same time.
The laughter that rang down from the Lodge's rooftop had to bounce around in Ron's head for a few moments before he realized that he'd been pranked.
"That was mean, Harry," Hermione said with a shake of her head.
"It was Katie's idea," Harry said defensively. "And it did get him out of the tent."
"So now we'll have to expect Ron to plot his revenge next time we're in that situation?"
"And what situation is that, Dear?" her Mum teased. "Don't tell me that Harry checks you for overnight messages as well?"
Hermione and Harry both blushed, as he stammered, "Erm, I'm sure she meant the next time that we slept in the tent."
"Oh, really?" asked Roger. "And when will this next time be?"
Hermione's blush grew before she realized that her parents were only teasing her. But as she had no interest in continuing this sort of banter with her parents, she ended the discussion with a huff and a "Never mind."
oo00OO00oo
Given their proximity to Hogsmeade Village, it was decided that the easiest way for Ron and Luna to get to the Ministry for their internships was for them to floo from The Three Broomsticks. Hermione had suggested this, not fancying the idea more of Luna's hugs as she side-along apparated her back to London.
There was only incidental physical contact as Luna squeezed in next to Hermione on the middle bench of the Bluebottle. But Hermione soon decided that the Ravenclaw's hugs would have been preferable, once she began to effusively (and explicitly) describe how she and Ron had made use of all of the Love Shack's amenities.
It was only the shortness of the trip that kept Luna from getting too far down the road towards "Too Much Information!" A Notice-Me-Not charm applied to the broomstick kept them from being "noticed" once Harry flew out beyond the Notice-Me-Not wards that surrounded Glengairn. Once Ron and Luna were dropped off, Harry piloted the broom back up into the air and down the path towards Hogwarts.
Hogsmeade and Hogwarts sat on either end of an "L"-shaped valley whose limbs pointed east and north. The magical village anchored the east end of the closed valley, and was surrounded by high hills and mountains on three sides. Glengairn Lodge sat south of Hogsmeade, at the top on the only walkable pass out of the valley.
Hogsmeade Station sat just west of the village, with tracks that led north, and then along the northern shoreline of the lake. The TPOMS squadron had followed these tracks the day before, looking for where they led out of the valley and connected into the muggle railway system. They had found a second pass on the north end of the valley, and were surprised to discover that the tracks that had been used by the Express not six weeks disappeared under a thick blanket of heather and heath.
It had taken Neville's inspection of the foliage and a side trip to the train's engine house just past the Station to suss out what was a work. The heath that covered the tracks was an "instant-growth" magical hybrid variety that could cover a bared area in seconds. The Express's locomotive had localized banishing charms attached to its front. This magical equivalent of a muggle locomotive's cow catcher cleared the heath and other obstacles as the train passed over the tracks. Once the train passed, the thick brush immediately reestablished itself, and quite literally covered the magical train's tracks.
This thick mass of vegetation would make it difficult for anyone, muggle or magical, to walk along the tracks and out of the valley using the northern pass. But as it was a "known" route between the magical and muggle worlds, TPOMS had established a manned lookout station at the top of the pass.
Keeping live eyes watching the magical valley from both Glengairn and the northern pass had become the TPOMS squadron's latest assignment. The Phoenix Teams were taking rotating eight-hour shifts, and Harry took the opportunity to fly by the northern pass to check on the lookout station.
Lee and Stout were disappointed when the Grangers played "I spy" and sussed out their concealed location using muggle thermal imagery equipment. Solace was taken by the fact that Harry and Hermione hadn't been able to spot them with their bare eyes, as that was how a "normal" witch or wizard would scan the hills.
Once visual contact had been made with the northern lookout station, Harry doubled back to the station. Dropping down to low altitude and striking out over the lake, he followed the route Hagrid took with every class of First Years, four to a boat, so that Hermione's parents to see Hogwarts Castle for the first time just as he had …well, almost. Harry and Hermione hadn't needed to use electronic "wizard glasses" to see through the illusion of a ruined hovel that disguised Hogwarts's location from unaware muggles. But Roger and Emily's first sight of the castle was no less breathtaking because of it.
Had Hagrid gotten any better at keeping secrets, Harry would have stopped by and introduced him to Hermione's parents. But as the half-giant wasn't, Harry bypassed the wooden hut and (after a single lap about the castle that allowed Hermione to play tour guide for her mum and dad), headed back to Glengairn Lodge. Once there, the house tour focused on a three-dimensional table-top model of Hogsmeade Valley that the magical members of the squadron had constructed in the dining room.
Roger looked at the model not only as a freshly-minted military man, but as the Steward of Clan Potter and the manager of Harry's finances.
"So all of this valley is now yours, then?"
Harry nodded. "Yes and no…the Queen has given me clear title to the land, the Forbidden Forest, and the lake, but the Hogwarts and all of the buildings in Hogsmeade Village are privately owned."
"So the inhabitants lease the land?"
"Most of them do," Harry said with a smile. "Nobody has ever dared asked the Centaurs to pay rent."
"Did the Queen say how much she receives in lease payments?"
"Yeah," Harry said with a snort. "She doesn't receive a knut."
"How could that be?" asked Emily.
"A bit of coercive magic during negotiations, no doubt," Harry replied. "All of the payments go to the Ministry…not just here, but in Diagon Alley as well."
"The Queen owns Diagon Alley, too?"
"Sort of," Hermione replied. "The Alley is actually part of the Duchy of Cornwall…remember our discussion about Edward the Black Prince and how all of the magical lands in England were protected by incorporation into the Duchy?"
"But Scotland was a separate nation at the time, so this valley wasn't part of that?" Roger asked.
"Exactly," Hermione replied. "Hogsmeade Valley was owned by the Hogwarts Board of Governors and individual magical families up to the Treaty of Carlisle and the final separation. At some point the land was ceded to the muggle Earl of Huntley, and then changed hands several times…the details are still a muddle, according to the Royal Historian. The important point is that when Balmoral was purchased by Prince Albert and Queen Victoria in the mid 1800's, the Valley got the same sort of royal protections that Diagon and all of the other magical lands already had."
"But how does that relate to the lease payments going to the Ministry of Magic?"
"Discriminatory tax rates," Harry said with a rueful grin. "Witches and wizards don't appreciate why their tax burdens are so low."
"How is that?"
"It all goes back to the Treaty of Carlisle," Hermione replied, dropping into "lecture mode". "The Minister of Magic is the Queen's magical Justice of the Peace, and the Ministry of Magic is nominally part of her government. The Treaty allows the Minister of Magic to collect taxes from witches and wizards on the Queen's behalf, and to use these funds to run the "her" magical ministry. But then the Ministry building was destroyed in the 1700's during one of the Goblin Rebellions, and there wasn't enough tax money to rebuild it. So, the Minister of Magic convinced King George to "redirect" the annual lease payments paid by witches and wizards who lived on Royal lands to the Ministry, rather than to the Crown. And the rest, as they say, is history. Nobody let the Crown know when the Ministry had been rebuilt, so the rent money on Royal lands has been added to the Ministry's coffers ever since."
"Hmmm," thought Roger. "So when Prince Albert bought Balmoral, that 'redirection' of lease payments began to apply here?"
"Exactly," Hermione replied. "Brought in so many galleons that the Minister of Magic was able to drop income tax rates by two-thirds. And by amazing coincidence, that particular Minister still holds the record for longest term of office."
"But now that this land is back in Harry's private hands?"
"The Goblins figure that by giving these lands to Harry, the Queen's cut the Ministry's current annual revenues in half."
"Wow," remarked Emily. "So even if things don't change on Saturday, the Queen's hobbled the Ministry?"
"That's right," Harry said brightly. "Wasn't until I was told that point out that I started to like the deal."
Emily looked at her watch and frowned.
"I should be getting back to Cumberland," she announced. "Dean's doing a fine job as its Head Boy, but with the ICW folks staying there, and the seminars that they've volunteered to teach…"
"How's that all going?" Harry asked.
"Wonderfully," Emily replied. "The King's Wizard is doing a short course on magical world history this morning. The Emperor's Wizard is giving a talk on magic and muggle mysticism this afternoon, the Swedish witch is muggleborn, and is going to work with the new muggleborn parents, and then there's Rongo…"
"What's he up to?" Harry asked with a smile.
"He's taking over part of the physical education curriculum," Roger said with a grin. "So if you see an invoice for a hundred and fifty black rugby jerseys, you'll know why."
"Oh, it's going to be more than that, Daddy," Hermione admonished. "The Maori mages are world famous for their wandless magical rituals."
"Right," Roger said dismissively. "Next thing you'll tell me is that the haka is really a magic dance."
"Why yes, actually…it is," Hermione said with an arched eyebrow. "How did you know?"
Roger snorted, but was too smart to be shocked…during his tenure as the father of a witch he had become accustomed to such implausibility.
9:45am, Minister of Magic's Office
Despite the grim discussion topic, Rufus Scrimgeour found himself enjoying his morning meeting with the Head of the Department of Mysteries. He'd leave it to others to link this positive attitude to the fact that the meeting didn't involve Dolores Umbridge (who was busy finalizing a rationalization for her staff's performance in Edinburgh) or Percy Weasley (who was still absent).
"We need a back up plan in case this Project Arcanum doesn't pan out," he stated. "Anything come to mind?"
The Head Unspeakable gave his boss the kind of blank, noncommittal stare that one would expect from a man of his position.
"And just how….defiant…of the ICW should any such back-up plan be?"
"Best not to be openly defiant at all," Rufus decided. "And if you're right about how bad this meeting with the muggle Queen could go, it wouldn't have to cover that much time."
"So you expect that if the Queen strips you of your power that the ICW will take your side?"
"Why wouldn't it?" asked the Minister. "It'd be muggles against magicals….the ICW would have to take our side."
"I wouldn't be so certain," the Unspeakable cautioned. "Still, there is merit in distractions on a grand scale."
"Shipping them off to Azkaban would be a big distraction, wouldn't it?" Rufus mused.
"I was thinking about the Muggles," replied the Unspeakable. "They are taking advantages of differences between factions in the wizarding world…yet they are no strangers to factional strife on their side of the fence."
"Sounds like you have something in mind, then?" the Minister asked hopefully.
"Perhaps."
An airborne magical memo interrupted the conversation. Scrimgeour frowned as he snatched the "highest priority" message from the basket and read it.
"Damn."
"What's wrong?"
"Percy's shown up with a Dutch charms master."
"But that's what we wanted, isn't it?"
"I'd rather hear your ideas without being distracted by his presence, and if I let him in without Dolores here she'll throw a fit."
"If that's how you feel, why do you keep them around?"
"He knows too many Ministry secrets, and she's too good at blackmail."
"Ah, I see," replied the Unspeakable. "So you found a way to keep him out of your hair for a day…find a way to keep him busy for an hour more."
"Excellent idea," Rufus said with a grin. He inked a quill, jotted down a quick reply on the parchment memo, and sent it flying out the door.
"So tell me about muggle distractions," he said.
The Head Unspeakable nodded.
"So how much do you know about muggle Ireland?"
oo00OO00oo
The Minister of Magic smiled as the Head of the Department of Mysteries fleshed out his idea. Meanwhile, the Minister's Secretary smiled as she read his reply memo. Percy Weasley had always treated her poorly, so she was going to enjoy this.
"I'm sorry, Special Assistant Weasley," she said to Percy. "The Minister has asked that he not be disturbed for the next hour."
"But…but…this is important!" Percy whined. "I've been on an important mission, and brought back an important person that the Minister would want to meet right away."
"Minister Scrimgeour is aware of the situation," the secretary replied. "He's instructed me to have you complete a vital aspect of your important mission while you wait."
"And what could that be?" Percy asked dismissively.
The secretary narrowed her eyes, but decided to let her magical command speak on her behalf. She drew her wand and pointed towards a file cabinet.
"Accio blank expense report form!"
Percy winced as the magical document was levitated into his hands.
The Dutch wizard who was traveling with the Special Assistant looked over his shoulder and whistled.
"Merlin, there's some powerful magic laid down on that parchment."
"Compulsion and truth charms," the secretary said with a grin. "Percy came up with that idea himself…said that the 'junior staff' couldn't be trusted."
"Ah, I see," Peter replied. "Well, no worries."
"How can you say that?" Percy asked weakly.
"Look at all of the lines under 'Miscellaneous Expenses," the Dutchman replied. "There's plenty of room there for all of the drugs, and the booze, and the porn."
The Minister's secretary smiled evilly.
"Do you need a copy of the scroll that you wrote on 'Allowable Expenses,' Mr. Special Assistant?"
Percy moaned, and tried to muster all of the haughty contempt that he possessed as he dismissed the secretary's offer.
He failed miserably.