The Battle Standard

The Battle Standard

by Jardyn39

Summary

Voldemort may have gone, but the Wizarding World is still at war. As armies are preparing to do battle at the last stand of their Lord Protector and absolute ruler, Harry learns his own future rebellious family and friends will be slaughtered by the unconquered Gryffindor Army. The seeds of their destruction were sewn in the present day and Harry fears the only way he can save them is by setting himself against the increasingly ruthless Miss Alice and her Invisible Army as she prepares to bring Voldemort’s reign of terror to a premature end irrespective of the cost in lives. Knowing his seduction had such a terrible price, Harry struggles to resist the forces pulling him towards the same fate. Continuation of “The Final Lesson”.

Introduction

This story is set in what would have been Harry’s Seventh Year at Hogwarts and commences a short time after the events of “

The Final Lesson.”

This is the fourth in a series of stories that began with “

The Deceiver’s Distillation,” followed by, “The Kemmynadow Betrayal,” and then thirdly, “The Final Lesson.”

Although I’ve tried to make each story reasonably self contained, this particular story does make several references to characters and events from the previous stories.

There are a number of events and characters that are important to the continuing story, but rather than include a complete recap here, I have as before summarised the main characters and events below. Although some reminders are included in the text, you may find the answer to an obscure reference here.

I have excluded minor characters (unless they get a mention) and events that have no direct bearing on this part of the story.

Please note that these notes contain major spoilers to the previous three stories.

Character Profiles

New characters follow after.

Harry. Has received some bequests from Dumbledore’s Last Will and Testament. Includes the Kemmynadow Book, Dumbledore’s draft standard book of spells and a Phoenix chick named Phryne. Growing prowess with dark magic halted by Hermione. Uneasy truce with the Dursleys. Has acted as a go-between for Prime Minister and Minister Scrimgeour.

Hermione. Long periods with no contact with her parents. Has split with Ron and is now romantically linked with Harry. Has confessed to being able to read Harry’s moods and feelings by his aura.

Ron. Recently got job working for Fred and George, but isn’t too happy about his prospects. Has become skilled in duelling due to his tuition by Ollivander. Fell out with Harry and Hermione but recently reconciled. Dating Luna.

Kreacher. Displays growing affection for Harry whilst revelling in any opportunity to try and infuriate him. Harry, though, almost encourages Kreacher to rebel and show independence. Has been promised freedom by Harry when he is ready.

Dobby. Has returned to work at Hogwarts but only until Harry has more work for him. Usually in conflict with Kreacher.

Professor McGonagall. Newly appointed Headmistress of Hogwarts. Has continued to give private defence tuition to Harry. Gave Harry Dumbledore’s Kemmynadow Book against her better judgement.

Delores Umbridge. Official Head of the Auror Department. Has absolutely no idea where any of her Aurors actually are, though.

Kingsley Shacklebolt. Now effectively in charge of the Aurors. Discovered he was a recent victim of one of Miss Alice’s plans against Voldemort.

Muggle Prime Minister. To Harry: “I know there are things you have got to do, and I know we will never know what they are. If you need resources that we have, just ask for them. Realistically, we will never amount to much more than a diversion or distraction against the Death Eaters and Voldemort. Just remember, if we use what we have at the right time, we just might give you and the Aurors the edge." (From The Kemmynadow Betrayal.)

Grangers. Hermione’s parents are together but are in hiding. Location unknown.

Neville Longbottom. Currently Head Boy at Hogwarts. Much happier now that fewer students attending school. Proposed the abolition of the school House system. Continues the DA as open student activity. Very recently began quiet romance with Ginny.

Ollivander. Distrusted by Harry. Links with criminals and Voldemort. Tries to place Harry in danger but has always given him an escape route. Dark past. Uneasy relationship with Dumbledore who punished him for misdeeds but would not permit Wizengamot to act. Harry rejected Ron’s explanation of Ollivander’s behaviour. Ollivander was apparently badly hurt by Harry after their last encounter, although he still got away.

Voldemort. Finally forced to relinquish Dumbledore’s bequest to Harry (a Phoenix egg). Was shot and wounded by Muggles. Tried to kill Hermione and make Harry fall victim to The Kemmynadow Curse. Utterly fooled by Miss Alice leading to a complete rout of his followers at the Ministry of Magic. Miss Alice may have developed a trick to block his Legilimens skills. Was told his ranks may have been infiltrated by Miss Alice’s spies, but this may have been a lie.

These characters were introduced in The Deceiver’s Distillation:-

Sergeant John Bateman. Nicknamed “Bear,” he is the leader of the Muggle Special Forces team assigned to Harry. He is physically imposing, fit, strong and quite a bit older than his charges. He was attacked by Hagrid when he failed to heed his warnings concerning Hermione’s treatment. Trusted and respected by Harry, Bateman is experienced, clever and very skilled at what he does.

Lately a training instructor, he seems happiest shouting orders, but is actually very protective of those under his command. He is not afraid to admit his own fears in order to help others overcome theirs.

Bateman is twice divorced and has one daughter.

Met with Fred and George and commissioned a number of items, including weapons and clothing. Encouraged Dudley to consider a career in the Armed Forces.

Had his memory modified to forget Harry and his closest friends but this was later recovered.

Voldemort believed Bateman had been programmed to act as his spy but in fact Miss Alice had anticipated this and turned the tables to great effect.

Reluctantly promised to retire from physically arduous missions after near miss at the Healer’s lair (The Final Lesson).

Careem. Weapons and explosives Special Forces specialist. Rank of Corporal. Clever but physically slight compared to Bateman’s other men. Originally assigned to Harry for close personal protection. Was the first to (jokingly) suggest they bayonet Ron.

These characters were introduced in The Kemmynadow Curse:-

Miss Alice. Muggle analyst working for the Prime Minister against Voldemort. Very clever and totally ruthless. Once tricked two Ministry wizards and ended up having tea with Dumbledore. Liked and on the whole trusted by Harry. It was Miss Alice who assigned Bateman to protect Harry.

Miss Alice is connected and knows how to draw on any resource the Muggle Government has if she needs to. It has slowly dawned on Harry that she is not just an analyst, having been directly involved in planning of military actions.

Miss Alice’s real name of Mary Happell was revealed in “The Final Lesson”, and she has become romantically linked with John Bateman. However, whereas Miss Alice is ruthless and calculating, Mary is understanding and kind.

Harry now recognises she practically has a split personality. For a brief period, Mary became the dominant personality but this was probably due to Miss Alice modifying her own memory to protect her secret plans.

For a brief period, Miss Alice fell out of favour with the Muggle task force when she was suspected of betraying them.

Her current official status is unknown to Harry.

Voldemort knows Miss Alice exists but does not know whether she is one individual, a computer or a group of people.

Scenariste. Librarian and only ghost survivor of the Archive. He and Hermione set up a system to share data and intelligence with Muggle forces. Librarian has deep distrust of the Ministry since they failed to come to the ghosts aid.

Herita. Giantess freed from Ministry captivity by Harry after the Archive raid. Her brother was murdered by Voldemort in front of her. Now living in mountains overlooking Hogwarts under protection of Hagrid. She helps guard the school with Grawp. Advised Harry to kill Ron to simplify matters when he admitted he didn’t know if he entirely trusted him.

Phryne. Phoenix chick hatched at the moment Voldemort attempted to use a killing curse on Hermione. Named by Hermione, "after the Greek courtesan not the place, obviously.”

These characters were introduced in The Final Lesson:-

Mary Happell. See Miss Alice (above).

Harriett Castle. Assistant Muggle analyst. Imperious Curse victim currently in hiding. Romantically linked to Careem.

Items, Places and Events

Dumbledore’s Standard Book of Spells. Loaned to Fred and George but now in Harry's possession. Incomplete book manuscript begun by Dumbledore when they hoped Voldemort was gone for good. Would have become a bestseller and the new standard reference for teaching spell work. Combined several disciplines of magic.

The Kemmynadow Curse. Ancient dark magic. Like a spirit that ensures that Dumbledore’s last wishes are complied with. Prevented Voldemort from attacking Harry until he had passed on Dumbledore’s bequest of a Phoenix egg.

The Kemmynadow Book. Name given to Dumbldore’s personal reference book of the darkest magic he ever faced and the counter-spells for most of them. Book is sealed to everyone except Harry. Very powerful, Harry only has to touch the book and the book pushes the dark knowledge into him. Addictive. Harry had problems after prolonged exposure.

Privet Drive. Number Four was trashed by the Death Eaters after Harry and the Dursleys vacated it. Harry paid for it to be refurbished although the Durlseys no longer live there.

The Archive. A large underground depositary located somewhere in Kent. Was all but forgotten by the Ministry of Magic until the Muggles raided it, convinced it could help gather information about Voldemort’s plans. Was already occupied by Voldemort but he was evicted by the Muggle raiding party. Staffed entirely by ghosts, the documents are stored in the surrounding rock strata. The ghosts' pleas for help when Voldemort began attacking them were either ignored by the Ministry or intercepted by sympathisers. The Archive is currently under Ministry guard but the ghost librarian, who controls all access to information, is no longer sympathetic to the Ministry.

Grimmauld Place. Subject of a new Fidelius Charm which Harry performed but the Secret Keeper has not been revealed. Harry has intimated that there is a twist in the new secret to prevent the problems caused by the Dursleys being repeated. Briefly occupied by the Dursleys. Currently home to Harry, Hermione, Kreacher and sometimes Ron.

Room of Requirement. Sealed to everyone except Harry, Ron and Hermione. Harry can seal the room to all others. The room provides anything they need upon arrival, but it usually looks the same now. Seven large fireplaces provide Floo access in and out. Hermione likes to study there now.

Hogwarts. Harry now has access to the grounds. He can create an opening in the boundary wall for himself only.

Hogwarts Houses. House system abolished because of low student numbers. Even the four tables in the Great Hall have gone.

Rodium Curse. One in a family of powerful and deadly dark curses introduced to Harry by Ron, taught to him by Ollivander. Harry learned to perform them using the Kemmynadow spell book.

Golden Rowena. Animated golden statuette of Rowena Ravenclaw. Harry was loaned the original black marble base that belonged to Ravenclaw and is suspected to contain a Horcrux. Currently residing in the Room of Requirement.

The Red Cauldron. Not yet seen by Harry. Claimed by Bateman to have been made especially to cook Nagini in, but it may not actually exist. Supposed to have a message for Voldemort on the side.

Timeline

This story begins during the spring, after Christmas, in what should have been Harry's Seventh year at Hogwarts. Harry met Bateman at the beginning of the summer and the raid on the Archive occurred towards the end of the summer.

Comments

There may be some confusion over which of Miss Alice and Mary Happell is actually speaking dialog, since they are physically the same person.

Harry knows that Miss Alice is ruthless and would lie to him if necessary. He also knows that Mary, in contrast, probably wouldn’t. So, when you read something like,

“Hello, Harry,” said Miss Alice, or, “Hello, Harry,” said Mary,

the actual speaker depends upon Harry’s perception of which of her two personalities he is hearing. Basically, Harry won’t always know immediately which of them he is really listening to. Out of politeness, of course, he may call Miss Alice, “Mary.”

The Battle Standard

by Jardyn39

Chapter 1 – The Lord Protector

Harry Potter was relaxed and content. He lay on his back, seemingly without a care in the world, having just woken from a particularly deep sleep.

He had plenty of cares to worry about of course, but right at that precious moment before he opened his eyes to greet the day, he could afford to enjoy the pretence.

He couldn’t quite remember when it was that his friend John Bateman had told him about the trick of relaxing and pretending all was well with the world.

Bear had told him he usually found this form of meditation most useful when he had found himself waking in some of the most inhospitable terrains around the world. Whether he was freezing in snow or frying in some desert, he would take a long moment just to pretend he was, well, content with his lot.

The new day he would wake up to would bring challenges and hardship, but his energy would be renewed.

Eventually Harry opened his eyes and looked up at the ceiling. Tiny ancient cracks were evident in the surface of the painted plaster, and a money spider was busy making a new web.

Harry frowned slightly to himself. Usually, when he looked upwards from his bed, the ceiling was completely out of focus without his glasses. Indeed, even with his glasses he could not recall being able to see such small cracks.

Then, as the gears in his mind began at long last to grind into operation while he woke up and began thinking properly, he wondered vaguely why the ceiling was so low today. He could almost reach out and touch it.

Slowly, it gradually dawned upon him that if the ceiling wasn’t that low, then he must be the one to be higher than he normally found himself.

At that very moment of realisation, he felt gravity begin to grab hold and urgently pull him down.

The ceiling began to move away out of his range of focus, losing definition as he fell.

At this precise point, Harry wasn’t particularly worried. Not only was he used to the sensations of falling from very great heights that would have completely unnerved most of his contemporaries, he also knew his mattress was only a few feet below him.

The first indication that he had that either he, or his mattress, wasn’t in the right place was when his back impacted on something.

Whatever Harry hit was solid enough to slow his descent yet yielding enough to cushion his fall, so that when he hit the hard edge of what he later discovered was a solid timber table, the impact was much less than it could have been.

Harry continued crashing down in a mess, hitting a chair and finally came to rest sprawled out on the floor. As he fell two legs of the table gave way and the top tilted downwards.

Harry squinted around. He definitely wasn’t in his bedroom where he ought to have been.

He became aware that a vague outline of a figure had been sitting on the other side of the table.

The figure rose and knelt down next to him.

Harry started as a face came close enough to be almost in focus.

“Neville?”

The figure gave half a chuckle and said, “No. Hang on a moment.”

Harry realised it wasn’t his friend Neville from the moment the stranger spoke, although the round shape of his face was a very close match. Harry dimly realised that the hair colour wasn’t right, though.

The stranger was groping under the table for something.

“Here, try these on,” said the stranger, pushing a pair of glasses onto Harry’s face.

Harry reached up to straighten the glasses and was surprised to find them a close match for his own glasses. They were slightly stronger than his own pair of spectacles, though, and the frames were made from gold.

Harry tried to get up but realised he was lying awkwardly on top of someone else’s legs.

“Oh, goodness!” he cried, fearing that he’d killed them.

“Don’t worry,” said the stranger. “He’ll be okay. You just knocked him out. Lucky he was sitting there actually.”

“He certainly broke my fall,” agreed Harry, moving off his unfortunate victim whose face and upper body was concealed by the upturned table.

“I didn’t actually mean that,” said the stranger with a grin and holding up his hands.

Harry realised with a start he was bound at his wrists.

“Do you think you could untie these?” he asked.

“Sure,” said Harry, untying the rope bindings.

“I’m sorry I called you Neville before. It’s just that you look uncannily like a friend of mine.”

“People do say we look alike,” agreed the stranger conversationally, rubbing the sore looking red marks on his wrists once Harry released him.

“My name is Christopher,” he said, holding out his hand. “Christopher Longbottom.”

Harry grinned and shook Christopher’s hand. “Hi. My name is Harry Potter. Are you related at all to Neville Longbottom?”

“Yes. He’s my father.”

“What? No way. You’re almost as old as I am!” exclaimed Harry in surprise. Then he added, feeling a little foolish, “Oh, hang on. Is there more than one Neville in the Longbottom family?”

“Not that I’m aware of. I’m seventeen, actually.”

“No,” said Harry disbelievingly.

“Look, I do think we should get out of here while we still can,” said Christopher, diving under the table again and emerging with a wand. He then pulled out a limp long-fingered hand and pulled off two jewelled rings.

“Hey,” said Harry, recognising one of them. “That’s Slytherin’s ring!”

“Here,” said Christopher offering the ring to Harry. “I only wanted this one.”

“May I see it?” asked Harry.

“Later. Come on, let’s go. There are a couple of sentries outside. Just follow my lead and whatever you do, don’t make a run for it. They’ll be on us in no time and there is plenty of support they can call upon around here.”

“Won’t my wearing pyjamas make them a little suspicious?”

“Er, good point,” agreed Christopher. He dived down and wrenched off the dragon hide boots worn by his captor. He threw them at Harry and grabbed a large travelling cloak from a hook by the door.

“These will have to do for now.”

Harry was concerned for the person lying still under the table but Christopher assured him he would be fine and somehow managed to keep getting in the way when he tried to take a closer look.

He found the boots to be a good fit though and wrapped himself in the cloak which had a great Gryffindor lion emblem on the back.

Christopher considered Harry’s outfit for a moment. Finally, he shrugged to himself and pulled the hood over Harry’s head.

“Okay?” asked Christopher.

“Okay.”

Christopher pulled open the door and bright sunlight streamed in. He stepped outside confidently and Harry followed.

The two sentries snapped to attention.

“He says he’s not to be disturbed,” ordered Christopher confidently. “No exceptions.”

“Yes, Sir!”

Christopher walked down the steps and casually began walking down the street. Harry caught him up quickly.

“Where is this place?” he asked as soon as they were out of earshot of the sentries.

“We can talk when we get to the other end of the village. There’s an equipment store we can get a couple of brooms from. I’d like to get some distance in case he wakes up sooner than I’d hoped.”

Harry nodded and walked on in silence. He was burning with questions, but he knew the first objective had to make a safe escape from wherever this was.

The village was quite unlike any that Harry had seen before. The wide street was entirely straight and was on a slight incline that lead down to water, possibly a wide river. Harry could see small boats tied up at the water’s edge.

On both sides of the street were terraced housing and there did not appear to be any side roads at all.

Outside each of the houses was a red banner flying proudly in the gentle breeze. He could see these were Gryffindor banners, but the design was different somehow.

The ground floor of several houses had been converted in shops and there were one or two stall traders selling food and goods to the villagers.

They arrived at the bottom of the village and Harry could see that the waterway was indeed a wide river.

Christopher tugged his arm and Harry followed him over to a barn like building.

“Two brooms,” ordered Christopher confidently. “Now!”

The rotund storekeeper came over and looked like he was about to hex Christopher for his rudeness.

“You can’t be talking to me like that, boy, not unless you expect to keep your teeth.”

Christopher looked at him disdainfully; a look that reminded Harry powerfully of Draco Malfoy.

“Really?” he said casually, deliberately stepping aside so that the storekeeper could see Harry’s face.

“My Lord!” the storekeeper said, bowing at once.

“Get up you oaf!” shouted Christopher. “You know how he punishes people who bow and scrape before him!”

“No. I mean, yes!” said the man fearfully.

“Just get the brooms, will you? Perhaps his Lordship will overlook your appalling behaviour this time.”

The two broomsticks were summoned at once and they quickly departed.

*

“What was that about?” called Harry the moment they cleared the tops of the trees that marked the edge of the village.

“A simple case of mistaken identity, Mr Potter,” replied Christopher looking back with a grin.

“Call me Harry.”

“Okay, Harry. That fool thought you were someone else. The likeness is extraordinary, actually.”

“Who did he think I was?”

“Why, your victim back there of course!” cried Christopher, laughing loudly.

They sped up to the top of a low hill that overlooked the village and the river before landing. Harry looked down into the forest covered valley and up at the surrounding hills. The forest was thick with green trees that contrasted slightly with the grassy hilltops. The view would have been quite stunning had the day been brighter.

“See over there?” asked Christopher, pointing to somewhere beyond the village.

Harry squinted in the direction he was pointing.

“Are those tents?” he asked, uncertain because of the low cloud and trees that obscured his view.

“That’s right. Down there is what remains of the Gryffindor Army.”

“Gryffindor Army?” repeated Harry blankly.

“Now,” continued Christopher, looking around. “They are pretty much concealed from here, but over there are where the other Houses are encamped. Because of their recent casualties, most of the regiments have been combined now. They unofficially call themselves Dumbledore’s Army.”

Harry tried to see, but shook his head.

“Don’t worry, you can’t really see from here, but we are outnumbered maybe four to one.”

“Who by? Who are they outnumbered by?” asked Harry.

“Let’s fly up and see if we can get a better view, shall we?”

Christopher got on his broom again and flew up almost vertically. Harry had known almost from the moment Christopher took off that he was a very skilled flyer. Without his Firebolt, Harry had to work hard to keep up with his quick moves. Finally, Harry caught him up and Christopher slowed until they were flying side-by-side high up around the hill.

Christopher grinned and said, “I couldn’t resist that. The tales of your flying skills have reached epic proportions at Hogwarts, you know? It’s a pity that we are unlikely to meet on the Quidditch pitch.”

“Tell me about those armies,” demanded Harry, who was growing too impatient for small talk. “Who are Gryffindor and Dumbledore’s Army outnumbered by?”

“Sorry, I should have been clearer. The great unconquered Gryffindor Army, led by the undefeated Lord Protector is about to be attacked by the remaining armies of the other Houses, led by one Lady Potter.”

“What?” asked Harry incredulously. “Who is this Lord Protector?”

“Um, that you be you. Or rather, the future you, judging by how old you look now. You were genuinely honoured, of course; unlike Voldemort who just took the title. You did quite a lot of Muggle charity work during your exile, I understand. Most commendable.”

“And Lady Potter?” asked Harry weakly.

“Oh, she hasn’t called herself Potter since war broke out again.”

“Hermione is leading a war against me?” said Harry, not catching the slight calculating frown on Christopher’s face.

“The dear Lady has got most of the wizarding world on her side, too. Unfortunately for them, we have most of the military brains and brawn on our side. They’ll be slaughtered when they finally get themselves organised and attack us.”

“Why are they even attacking?”

“Ah, well. The short version is that you, or rather him down there, vanished from the wizarding world after Voldemort was defeated. For years most people thought you were dead, but you reappeared years later and was none too pleased about all the corruption and incompetence of those in power.

“You were persuaded to run for office and everyone agrees you did a great job as Minister for Magic. Then, you became rather comfortable in office. Gentle suggestions that it was time you stepped aside were met with brutal punishments and even imprisonments.

“We’ve been at war for some time now. It’s been very one sided, actually. You’ve not lost a single engagement so far; mainly because you weren’t afraid to justify any means to achieve an end.”

“That sounds more like Slytherin rather than Gryffindor,” said Harry.

“Hey,” said Christopher with mock indignation. “We Slytherins are the ones who stood by you through all your campaigns, not like those turncoats.

“Actually, there aren’t many true Gryffindors left on our side despite the official army name, to be honest. I’m only here because I’m the black sheep of the family. My father remains neutral, out of his friendship with you, but mother and all my loyal brothers are down there somewhere, ready to fight and die for Dumbledore’s Army.”

“Ginny?” said Harry, realising Christopher’s flaming red hair should have given him a clue.

“That’s right.”

“So, why were you tied up?”

“Ah,” said Christopher, with an embarrassed smile. “You see, he caught me trying to poison him again.”

“Poison?”

Christopher shrugged.

“It was too good an opportunity to miss. I’m his only heir, you see. He’s disinherited his own sons and daughters. With him gone, I can lay claim to the office.”

“Office?”

“Lord Protector of the Wizarding World,” said Christopher. “Actually, the office only applies to the United Kingdom, but World sounds so much better. It also betrays his true ambitions.”

“This is terrible,” said Harry. “Whatever happened to me? Is there any way we can stop the fighting?”

“That is amazing!” cried Christopher with delight. “It’s uncanny!”

“What?”

“He was saying that very same thing, the moment you appeared!”

“He wanted peace too?”

“Yes! Unfortunately, that’s hardly in my interests. No, I’ve got far too many profiteering ventures on the go to allow something like peace to dent my prospects. No, war is much more profitable, I can assure you. Besides, there is nothing quite like confusion of battle for slaughtering one’s creditors.

“Now, I find myself with an interesting dilemma. It’s rather too risky for me to go back down there and finish him off properly. I really must have a decent alibi when he finally dies. Besides, I might be caught in the act again.

“I did wonder if I could persuade you to do him in for me,” continued Christopher with a sly smile, “but he can be very persuasive himself sometimes. No, on balance I think he is bound to turn you away from the dirty deed given half a chance.”

He shifted and turned to face Harry.

“Now, I’ve no idea how you came to be here, but if you really are the younger version of his Lordship, it would be far safer just to kill you. He can hardly grow up if you are dead, can he?”

Harry tensed as Christopher produced his wand. With a shock Harry now realised it was his wand that was being brandished at him!

He dived down at once, the green flash just missing him. Christopher laughed manically as he followed, firing hexes all the while.

Harry knew his only chance was to get down to the ground. If he could make the trees on the other side of the hill where Christopher had said Dumbledore’s Army was, maybe he stood a chance of surviving.

He dived vertically down, cursing the slowness of his broom relative to his Firebolt.

Then his broom was hit with two reductor spells in quick succession. Christopher had undoubtedly selected the faster broom for himself.

Harry’s downward momentum changed as the broom fell apart under him.

He was now falling under gravity with no control.

He twisted around in the air so that he was facing Christopher as he fell.

Christopher was grinning and raised his wand again to finish him off before he hit the ground.

*

Harry landed heavily right in the middle of the kitchen table. He yelled in agony as various pots were smashed and sent flying and clouds of white flour were blasted into the air.

“Ow,” groaned Harry, as every part of his body seemed to scream with pain.

He dimly felt himself being prodded in his side.

“Kreacher, what are you doing?”

“Kreacher is testing to see if Master is alive or not.”

“Am I?”

“Kreacher is undecided. Can Master sit up or is he too broken?”

Harry tried to move and found that he didn’t appear to have broken anything. He offered an arm out and Kreacher jumped up on the table top to help pull him up into a sitting position.

“Thanks, Kreacher. I’m sorry if I gave you a shock.”

Harry reached behind and removed a pot that was still digging into his back.

“Were you cooking?” he asked incredulously.

“Kreacher was, but he will stop now. Master’s house is clearly far too dangerous for Kreacher to cook in.”

Harry snorted, despite his injuries.

“May Kreacher ask why Master Apparated above the kitchen table? If Master is trying to teach his Phoenix to fly, perhaps he should flap his arms a bit more vigorously.”

“I’ve no idea what happened, Kreacher. I was having this weird dream. I was some Lord Protector of the Wizarding World and everyone was getting ready to attack my army.”

Phryne, the Phoenix chick that had hatched from the egg Dumbledore had bequeathed to Harry, appeared in a tiny blaze of red and gold flames above the table.

As usual, Phryne failed to stay in the air for very long and almost at once landed in a ball of feathers on Harry’s stomach.

He tried to catch her, but the chick rolled down and landed with a soft plop in one of Kreacher’s remaining pudding dishes. She shook her feathers and then began to sing. Harry imagined she sounded rather proud of staying aloft for so long.

“Did this Lord Protector have dragon hide boots and a green travelling cloak?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact he did,” said Harry.

He looked down and realised he was still wearing the boots Christopher had given him. He had the cloak too.

Then he saw the heavy gold ring on his finger.

*

John Bateman sat shaking his head doubtfully, trying to take in all the implications of what Mary Happell had just explained to him.

“It’s an awful risk, Mary,” he said at last.

“I believe the outcome is inevitable. All I’m suggesting we do is accelerate things. That way we will have some control over events. If we just stand aside, it could be years and years before anyone realises what has happened. It is in Voldemort’s interest just to wear down the Ministry forces until they are too weak to defend his real targets.”

“But what about all the lives that could be lost?”

“I’m hoping we can save lives in the longer term.”

“This may be just one plan too far, though. What about Harry?”

“Harry can’t see anything beyond Voldemort. We have both played our parts in focussing his efforts.”

“You could be destroying his life. I mean, his life after Voldemort.”

“Firstly, his chances of surviving may have been significantly improved by your influences, but they are still virtually non-existent.”

“You know what I think about those kinds of odds.”

“Yes, and I also know that Harry Potter would give his life in an instant in exchange for the death of Voldemort.”

“True.”

“So, what are we arguing about then? Let him die young and be remembered as a hero.”

“You will be leading him to his death. That’s not the same. Besides, I’m more concerned about your plans for him should he live.”

“I have no problem with explaining everything to him and letting him decide, if it would make you happier.”

“Everything?”

“No, of course not everything! I haven’t even told you everything.”

“So, he won’t really make an informed choice then, will he?”

“Ah, I’m supposed to tell him that his killing Voldemort might not actually bring peace?”

“Mary, please reconsider. Hundreds of lives are at stake.”

“I estimate closer to two thousand, five hundred based upon the Ministry census statistics of Wizards and Witches that will be of fighting age during the anticipated period of Civil conflict. That excludes collateral casualties, of course.”

Bateman knew better than to argue figures with her.

“Listen, I will not contribute to any plan that puts your forces in direct conflict with Harry. Do what you want, but I’ll be fighting on his side.”

Mary smiled warmly at Bateman and he had the sinking feeling that he would end up doing precisely whatever she planned for him to do.

“I’m proud to hear you say that,” she said warmly. “I’ll not stand in your way.”

“What if he doesn’t play ball? When I tried to get him to kill, he refused, remember?”

“I’m counting on him acting for what he feels is the best course. He’ll have Hermione and myself to guide him, but ultimately he’ll make his own decisions.”

“You being one of his advisers could be described as a fairly major conflict of interest, you know?”

*

Harry paced up and down the lamp lit Gryffindor Common Room, deliberately not looking at the expressions of doubt that were on the faces of everyone present.

In the middle of the floor lay a pair of boots and a travelling cloak which he had earlier presented as evidence of what he had described happening to him.

The ring was still on his finger.

Finally, he stopped pacing and turned to face them.

“It just seems so incredible,” said Hermione, looking around at the others for support. None seemed willing to call Harry a liar outright.

“Maybe it was just a bad dream,” offered Ron.

“Have you ever woken from a dream to find yourself wearing boots and a cloak?”

“Um, no,” Ron admitted sheepishly.

“We were just play acting when that happened,” added Luna. Neville snorted loudly.

Harry sighed.

“What about this ring?” he suggested. “This is Dumbledore’s. It belonged to Salazar Slytherin and was stolen by Voldemort. It vanished, didn’t it?”

“Er,” said Ron. “No one would have minded if you took it, Harry. I’m sure Dumbledore would have wanted you to have it anyway.”

“I didn’t take it! It was given to me by Christopher Longbottom.”

Neville blushed yet again as Ginny smirked at him.

“Our evil son?” she said with scorn in her voice.

Harry sighed and sat down dejectedly next to Hermione.

“I know it all sounds mad, but I swear to you that’s what happened. It was unlike any dream I’ve ever had. It seemed so real.”

Hermione reached over and stroked his arm tenderly.

“Harry, it’s just not logical. How could you have travelled in time that far. Actually, even with a time turner it’s just impossible to travel forward in time.”

“Did you have cheese for supper?” offered Ron. “I always have weird dreams after I’ve eaten cheese.”

“Some cheese,” muttered Harry, turning the ring on his finger.

“Suppose it was some kind of warning,” suggested Ginny out of the blue.

Harry’s head shot up at once. It was the first positive thing any of them had offered so far.

“How do you mean?”

“Suppose someone tried to send you a message, from the future?”

“Okay,” said Harry slowly. “I suppose it could have been a warning for me to be careful and not accept too much power.”

“Could the boots and cloak be significant too?”

“I doubt it, but this ring might,” suggested Harry. “I don’t quite understand why Christopher wanted that other ring though. It was gold and looked just like this one except it was ruby red.”

“Was the jewel cracked?” asked Hermione tentatively.

“I didn’t get a chance to see,” admitted Harry, realising Hermione was wondering if the ring could be a Horcrux just like Slytherin’s ring.

“Have you ever heard of a ring like that, Neville?” asked Ginny.

“Well, yes. Gran’s got a heavy gold ring that is supposed to be some kind of family heirloom. I’ve not seen it for years, though.”

“Would you mind if we asked her to show the ring to us?” asked Harry.

“I’ll ask,” said Neville at once, “but it couldn’t be the same ring, could it?”

“I’ve no idea. But why else would your son want it back?”

“Why would Harry have our family ring anyway?” asked Ginny with a smirk.

Neville blushed again. Ginny had been jokingly calling herself Mrs Longbottom at every opportunity that evening since she learned of Harry’s strange tale.

“Um, Harry?” asked Hermione. “Will you reconsider your meeting tonight?”

“No, Hermione,” Harry said firmly, his smile vanishing at once.

“But, at least let more of us come along as additional protection.”

“No. His message said just me and Ron.”

“I’ll look after him, Hermione,” said Ron reassuringly.

“I still say you are taking needless risks with this, Harry. You can’t trust him.”

“No, we can’t,” agreed Harry, looking down at his watch.

*

“What’d you think?” asked Ron for what seemed like the hundredth time.

They were standing together behind a low wall with a clear view of the country lane that led to a public call box a few yards away. A single magical lamp post lit the lonely scene.

Harry shrugged and said, “He’s over three hours late. I don’t think he’s coming tonight.”

They were both frozen after standing at the agreed meeting place for several hours now. Harry had been all for leaving after their visitor became an hour overdue, but Ron had insisted they wait just a few minutes more.

“He’s probably being watched. You know, by his lot,” offered Ron. “Maybe he didn’t think it was safe to come for our sakes.”

Harry’s face was too cold to put on the doubtful expression his thoughts demanded. Instead he contented himself with another shrug.

“Maybe he heard you were going mental again,” quipped Ron.

“Yeah, Ron,” said Harry dryly. “That must be it. Still, I’ve only had the one episode so far. You’d think he’d give me-”

“Was that him?” interrupted Ron urgently, pointing out into the darkness.

“That was a fox, Ron.”

“Looked more like a cat to me, actually,” admitted Ron.

“Sure, Ron, it was a cat with a long bushy tail and a snout.”

“That’s it,” said Ron with yet another glance at his watch. “Let’s call it a night?”

“Yes, definitely. I’m too cold to defend myself now anyway.”

The Battle Standard

by Jardyn39

Chapter 2 – The Summons

Mary sat silently for a long time. Harry observed she wore a slight frown but otherwise seemed quite relaxed. Only her feverish eye movements over the surface of the polished table betrayed the scenarios her mind was running through.

Harry was rather glad he had Mary to confide in.

Quite unlike his friends, Mary had at once accepted his story about the dream, or whatever it was. Even Hermione had been a little sceptical that Harry could ever seize power and appoint himself Lord Protector of the Wizarding World.

He was quite content to sit quietly and wait for Mary to finish her mental gymnastics. He had actually told John Bateman about the dream before her, but knew that the ever practical Bear would refuse to believe any of it.

Bateman had reacted as Harry predicted, but did add cryptically, “Sounds like she’s made an early start on you, Harry. I wonder how she does it?”

Harry had no idea at all what this comment was supposed to mean.

He was pretty sure that the “she” Bateman was referring to could only be the same Mary before him, but beyond that he had little idea.

He wasn’t even sure he wanted to ask her.

Mary, or rather Miss Alice, had divulged very little of the details of her plan that had culminated in the arrest of so many Voldemort supporters at the Ministry as well as the secreting away to safety so many wizarding families.

Harry was amazed to learn that Bateman’s little speech to Voldemort was actually a carefully planned mix of truth and lies designed to wrong-foot Voldemort.

One of Mary’s greatest fears for the plan going wrong was that either Bateman would die before delivering it or that he might forget an important detail. She clearly thought the later was more likely.

On their way out of the Healer’s lair, Bateman had admitted to Harry that he’d forgotten to boast about something he had actually contributed to the plan. Harry had promised not to tell Mary this omission, although he never did find out what it was that Bateman had forgotten. He did learn that Mary had actually been rather pleased with this omission, though.

Harry looked around the room the two of them were alone in. All of the walls were covered in a variety of maps and charts and the centre of the room was occupied by a large operations table which they sat at one corner, the two dozen or so other chairs remaining empty.

Quickly, his eyes returned to the single feature that dominated the room.

Sitting on a three tier dais on one side of the room was a giant red coloured metal cauldron complete with matching lid that glistened under the spotlighting that highlighted it.

When he had seen it for the first time, Harry had just stood there utterly incredulously.

Of all the parts of Bateman’s speech to Voldemort, the one part he would have bet was a complete fabrication was the specially made cauldron that they were going to cook Voldemort’s pet snake Nagini in.

Mary had explained to him that it was an important part of the plan to deceive Voldemort but wouldn’t explain how it was supposed to work.

Had Voldemort read Bateman’s mind, as he was expected to do, all he would see was recollections of this giant Cauldron.

Mary shifted slightly and smiled as she looked up at Harry.

“I know,” said Harry with a smile, “you’ve considered twenty-seven possibilities about what happened but the most likely one is me cracking up?”

Mary laughed and said, “No, that’s the one possibility I didn’t consider, Harry.”

Harry nodded, grateful for her support.

“I think we should approach this from a logical point of view. You see, although there may be things we don’t quite understand yet, there may be aspects of your experience that will be of benefit.”

Harry raised his eyebrows enquiringly, wondering how they could benefit from what he witnessed.

“First though, may I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Harry replied easily.

“I expected Hermione to be here when you told me about all this.”

“She was busy helping Ginny and Luna with some of their schoolwork. I think she was envious of the amount of school work they have to do, actually,” he added, half joking.

“Even so,” said Mary. “Does Hermione think what you saw really happened?”

Harry sighed and shrugged his shoulders.

“She believes me to a point. I mean, she knows I wouldn’t just make all this up and the boots and cloak had to come from somewhere, right?”

“So, what doesn’t she believe?”

“Simply, that I could ever allow myself to be styled Lord Protector of the Wizarding World and become some kind of evil dictator.”

“What do you think about that?”

“Well,” replied Harry, absently running his fingers through his hair, “this Lord Potter sounds like he stands for just about everything I’m against. I can’t believe I would ever allow something like that to happen.”

“Is that all?”

“No,” admitted Harry, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

When he didn’t continue, Mary continued, “Part of you thinks you would take power?”

Harry nodded, staring down at the mahogany table top.

“Why is that?” Mary asked gently.

“Dumbledore,” Harry answered flatly. “He was the most powerful wizard of his age. He knew full well about the corruption, ineptitude and laziness that was and is endemic at the Ministry of Magic. He could have taken power when he was invited to become Minister for Magic. He could have stamped all that out. Voldemort would have had a much more difficult time regaining power if Dumbledore had been in control.”

“So, you would take any opportunity offered to correct Dumbledore’s mistakes?”

“I didn’t say he made any mistakes,” Harry said sharply. “All I said was he chose not to take power.”

“I’m sorry,” said Mary. “Go on,” she added, and Harry was sure she had wanted to provoke him into making that last admission.

“Of course he did make mistakes,” continued Harry more calmly. “It’s just that I can’t really see that missed opportunity as a mistake.”

“Because if he’d been Minister, he would not then have been your Headmaster?”

Harry nodded and smiled sadly.

“Anyway, I think it might be difficult for me to refuse such an offer.”

They sat in silence for a long moment.

“By a curious coincidence, Harry,” began Mary, “my current project isn’t entirely unrelated to the things you have just told me.”

“Sorry?” Harry asked in surprise.

“Well,” said Mary and she hesitated before continuing. “First of all, John wasn’t entirely enthusiastic about the plan when I told him some of the longer term objectives.”

“He doesn’t think it will work?”

“Actually, I suspect he’s afraid it will work. He even dared me to tell you my plan.”

“I suppose that explains the comment I didn’t get. Something about you making an early start?”

Mary snorted and said, “Well, just so long as we know that I didn’t really.”

Harry smiled and nodded.

“My plan employs two long term scenarios. Broadly speaking, I have two endgames. In the first, Voldemort kills you. I won’t bore you with the details, but suffice is to say we plan to win in the end.”

Harry’s shoulders sagged. Of course Miss Alice would have a plan that assumed Voldemort would kill him. The odds of him defeating Voldemort were that bad.

“Stop that, Harry,” she commanded sharply. “Just because I plan for a contingency it doesn’t believe I think it remotely likely to happen. You, of all people, should know that odds can be beaten.”

“How did you know I was thinking about odds?”

“It was written all over you face, Harry. Now, are you at all interested in the second scenario?”

Harry nodded unenthusiastically.

“Well, in the second endgame, you kill Voldemort and manage to survive.”

“How do you know one of us will die?”

“I just can’t see either of you resting until the other is dead. Why?”

“Nothing,” said Harry quickly, keen to move on in case he let slip anything about the Prophecy.

“Well,” continued Mary a little suspiciously, “as I said you live on. Now, in my scenario, the general populous of the Wizarding world will not be content until there are some significant changes made to ensure that Voldemort’s influences are finally expunged from their lives. I foresee those will be turbulent times, Harry.”

“You mean, the fighting will continue?”

“Absolutely. There will be Civil War. The one thing I can see that would unite all the different factions and end hostilities would be, um, you.”

“Me?”

“Indeed. The Wizard that vanquished Voldemort would be universally respected and feared. That would make him an ideal candidate as a figurehead.”

“Figurehead?”

“Well, rather like Hermione, I couldn’t see you actually wanting to take real power for yourself. I have no doubt at all, however, that you would work tirelessly for reconciliation and peace.”

“Er, thanks, I think,” said Harry uncertainly.

Mary smiled.

“Isn’t all this rather too far into the future to consider now?” said Harry.

Mary shook her head no and the smile faded from her face.

“Harry,” she said seriously, “in telling you about these plans, all I’m attempting to do is reinforce the fact that you becoming Lord Protector or whatever isn’t really such a stretch.”

“You haven’t exactly told me much though, have you?”

“Of course not, Harry. Voldemort can read your mind, after all. Besides, I wouldn’t want you to think I was being manipulative or anything.”

Harry laughed loudly.

“No,” he agreed still chuckling, “you’d never manipulate anyone, would you? Kingsley still can’t hear mention of your name without shuddering, even now. He’s almost worse than Ron when I say Voldemort in front of him.”

“I did apologise to Kingsley. Mind you, I should really have resisted the temptation to point out all the times when it was glaringly obvious he was being used.”

“Okay,” said Harry, running his fingers along the edge of the table. “Where does this get us with my vision of the future?”

“I think your friend Ginny may be right. Treat the experience as a warning, at the very least.”

“A warning not to take power if it were offered?”

“Actually, I suspect I’d be urging you to take affirmative control of the situation. Remember, though, it may not be power in the traditional sense. It may be more like leadership, for example. You have no idea where the village was?”

“No, none at all. Do you think the cloak and boots could be significant?”

“I can’t see how; any more than the rings.”

“Actually,” said Harry looking down at his hand, “I suspect missing the ring will be significant.”

“Why do you wear that? Isn’t it a Slytherin artefact?”

“Yes. I started to wear it to remind me of Dumbledore and how he would react to things. It’s important to me to think that I try to remain worthy of his trust and support.”

Mary smiled and nodded.

“But just lately,” continued Harry, “I’ve begun to wonder if a Slytherin approach might not yield more results that a Gryffindor one. The Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin House, you know?”

“Well,” said Mary as an assistant came into the room and begun placing files before each of the empty table places, “so long as the ring reminds you of Dumbledore you won’t go far wrong.”

They stood, knowing that their meeting was over.

“I’ll continue to consider what you have told me,” she promised, walking Harry to the door where his armed escort was waiting to show him out of the underground bunker complex.

“Thanks for listening,” said Harry.

He had got almost to the outer door when she called out, “Harry? What happened to the spectacles you were wearing? The golden pair?”

“I’m sorry, I’ve got no idea. Things were a bit frantic in the air at the last moment. They could have come off as I fell.”

Mary nodded and turned away again.

*

Bateman heard the door slam shut and several pounding footsteps approach before he had a chance to look up from his desk.

“I want to know the truth!” demanded Miss Alice furiously.

“Sorry?” asked Bateman. “What did I do now?”

“You know what I’m talking about,” she spat angrily. “I’ve just listened to Harry’s version of that vision of his.”

“Er, okay,” said Bateman slowly, still none the wiser.

“The Village!”

“Um?”

“He described the Village perfectly, right down to the river! It was our Barracks he was describing!”

“Well, I suppose there were similarities,” admitted Bateman cautiously, “but only in as far as there are houses and a long straight road.”

Miss Alice straightened up and crossed her arms. That was when Bateman knew he was really in trouble.

“You took him there, didn’t you?”

“What? No, Mary. Honestly. I wouldn’t do that.”

Miss Alice continued to frown down at him.

“You are seriously asking me to believe you wouldn’t take Harry there the moment he even wondered aloud where all the missing wizarding families are?”

“He hasn’t asked me any such thing!”

“You and I are the only people in contact with Harry that know of the existence of that place. I know I didn’t tell him.”

“Oh, come off it, Mary,” pleaded Bateman. “Look, if I told Harry, would I really let him come and tell you all about it?”

“No,” she agreed, “that is true.”

She relaxed her arms a little and Bateman gave a slight sigh of relief.

“Of course,” she continued, refolding her arms again, “I did wonder if he hadn’t been affected by one of the many wards over that place. I mean, if he flew too close that might explain his confusion. Maybe he just interpreted the experience as a vision of the future.”

Bateman didn’t say anything, but he knew the wards might very well affect a wizard flying too close to the place.

Finally, Miss Alice gave a groan of frustration and sat down heavily on the chair in front of Bateman’s desk.

At this, Bateman decided he should pluck up some courage and asked, “Did you tell Harry about your suspicions? I still say you should confide in him.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. No, I actually believed him, for the most part.”

“Seeing into the future?”

“Experiencing the future,” she corrected him by saying. “Yes, I believe I do believe that part.”

“So, I might not have shown Harry the Village?” he asked hopefully.

*

“So, at least she didn’t come right out and say she thought I was delusional,” finished Harry, having told Hermione all about his discussion with Mary.

Hermione rolled her eyes and said, “Harry, no-one thinks you are delusional. Mind you, I’m surprised you didn’t want to take those boots and cloak with you as evidence.”

“She didn’t ask to see them, actually. Mind you, I did look for them to take with me but I couldn’t find them.”

“Oh, that was me. Sorry. I gave the boots to Ron and took the cloak to Hogwarts with me.”

“Why?”

“Well, I wanted Fred and George to look at those boots and tell us what they thought. They are the only people we know that have an interest and they looked to be of the finest quality. I have no idea where you’d go to have a pair like that made.”

“I didn’t think of asking them,” admitted Harry. “Um, why did you want the cloak?”

“The motif on the back, Harry. It’s a very stylised Gryffindor lion, isn’t it? I wondered if I could find anything like it in the library.”

“Did you find anything?”

“No, but I didn’t get much of a chance to look. I should get more time tomorrow, though.”

“Any excuse, eh?” teased Harry with a smile.

Hermione’s eyes narrowed and she said rather coldly as she rose to her feet, “Kiss me goodnight, Harry.”

“Hermione, it’s still early. Stay a little longer? Come on, I promise not to make any more Hogwarts comments at your expense. You know you want to, really.”

“I’m still waiting, Harry.”

“How about waiting a little further from the door?”

*

Harry slammed both his fists down onto the heavy table, making the papers strewn over it jump and an ink pot splashed a little black ink over a nearby scroll of parchment.

“My Lord!” cried a voice. “Please! You’ll only hurt yourself.”

Harry’s fists relaxed and long fingers quickly found the wand tucked into his robe pocket.

The chamber door opened just in time for the green flash to be reflected in the face of the dark robed figure who had entered the large room.

“Tell Lord Voldemort who he’ll hurt, will you?” snarled Harry at the corpse now lying at his feet.

He looked up sharply and barked, “Well, Tetto, don’t stand over there.”

Tetto shook his head and stepped over the body of his former colleague.

“Was it really necessary for you to kill Tibbins, my Lord? He was the last of your followers who had even the slightest understanding of the new Muggle communications.”

“What does that matter to Lord Voldemort?”

“Oh, congratulations, my Lord,” Tetto said sarcastically. “You’ve neutralised the threat presented by Miss Alice!”

“No, of course I haven’t!”

“Then, my Lord, perhaps those Muggle communications should matter?”

“Why aren’t you afraid of me, Tetto? I should kill you for that remark.”

“Thanks to your Lordship, I’ve become a traitor to my friends and family. They would not hesitate to kill me on sight. Of course, your Lordship knows I do still have some little use. Even so, it is just a matter of time.”

“Oh, shut up, Tetto.”

Tetto gave a half bow and Voldemort pocketed his wand.

“Tibbins’ understanding didn’t bring us any results,” complained Voldemort. “He spent weeks pouring over those stolen printouts. I half suspect that cow intended us to steal them and waste our time trying to read them.”

“Didn’t Tibbins get a chance to tell you his good news?”

“What good news?”

“He managed to crack part of the encryption, my Lord.”

“Useless! I’d have allowed him to live a little longer, had I known. Do you know what the message was?”

“Yes, but you won’t like it,” promised Tetto. “You recall we’ve been following several of the suspected code specialists working for one of the Muggle Defence departments? Well, we had a little luck. One of them was suspended for allowing a top level communication to be sent with a low level encryption. Basically, it was sent as a message that could be cracked more easily.”

“Go on.”

“Well, we kidnapped the specialist in question. Under the influence of magical interrogation, she revealed how to crack the code. Unfortunately, she did not herself read any of the messages in plain type.

“Anyway, Tibbins went back and applied the key to the messages over that period. The key only works for twenty-four hours, of course, but there were several messages that day.”

“What did the messages say?”

“Well, Tibbins only got as far as translating one message. It took him all of last week to do it. This week he’s been working on the second message.”

“Why wasn’t I informed of the first message?”

“Tibbins thought you’d just kill him the moment you heard it. You see, he showed the message to me and we both agreed it was a ruse. I suggested he translate a second message for verification.”

“What did the first message say?” asked Voldemort dangerously.

“It was a general order issued by Miss Alice warning the Muggle undercover operatives working in your Lordship’s service to be alert for the operational go code. Apparently, a go code is a signal instructing the precise time when a pre-arranged operation is to begin, my Lord.”

“Bitch!”

“My Lord, it was clearly just a fabricated message intended to distract us. You have not found a single follower not loyal to your Lordship, have you?”

“I suppose that is correct. What did the second message say?”

“I’ve no idea.”

“Then find out,” said Voldemort menacingly.

“Ah, a séance, perhaps?”

“How about reading through Tibbins’ notes?”

“Even better, my Lord,” said Tetto with another bow.

“Have we any idea yet where Miss Alice is?”

“You are still convinced she is a real person, my Lord? The Muggles give names to their mechanical computing machines, you know? She was described as a computer, remember? Perhaps she is several people hiding behind the pseudonym.”

“No, Tetto, the Ministry clearly believe she is a real person.”

“Yes, but they had no records, did they?”

“It matters not, Tetto. We can’t destroy her, machine or person, until we find her. Is there anything else?”

“Only that there is an addition to the attack from last night. It appears that the youngest of the Strood brothers actually managed to get away. We previously believed he died with his other two brothers. He resurfaced a few hours ago.”

“Did he say what happened?”

“Yes. It was clearly an ambush, as we suspected. It is the manner of the attack he describes which is most interesting. Their assailants Apparated, fired modified Muggle weapons and the Disapparated. The concerning thing is that they clearly intended their victims to be killed rather than captured.”

“That could have serious implications, Tetto.”

“Indeed, we now have a third aggressor joining the ranks of Ministry Wizards and Muggles against us.”

“I’m not too concerned about that.”

“No? Not even an opponent prepared to sink to our level?”

“I doubt they have the remotest inkling what that level could be, Tetto.”

“But who are they, my Lord? The only ones not accounted for are those we believed to be your victims. They would have a powerful motive to reek a terrible revenge against your Lordship and the rest of us.”

“I thought we decided that those victims still being alive somewhere was yet another lie.”

“As you wish, my Lord,” said Tetto bowing again. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to find Tibbin’s papers.”

“Just a moment, Tetto. Who do you recommend I appoint to replace Tibbins?”

“There really isn’t much choice now, is there? Even so, I have my doubts about her true loyalties. She’s only just out of Hogwarts. Young people are very impressionable at that age. She has also managed to refused the Dark Mark up to now, hasn’t she?”

“She will either receive it or die,” Voldemort said darkly. “Send her to me at once.”

“She will not be back for three days at the earliest. You sent her to assist with the new security arrangements at the Alpha Store.”

“Ah, yes. They will be out of communications there.”

“So, you’ll wait?”

“No. Go there yourself and bring her back.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

*

Harry woke with a start, his scar burning with a dull throbbing pain. He got up at once and staggered over to Sirius’ old writing desk where he immediately wrote down everything he could remember about Voldemort’s latest lapse in his Occlumency.

A few minutes later, Harry wrote a letter to Mary, describing everything again only this time in a sequence that made more sense.

Just as he was finishing, Hedwig arrived at the window sill and pecked gently at the bedroom window.

Harry smiled and immediately opened the lower sash before carrying her back over to the desk.

“I’m almost done,” he promised.

He added a final paragraph after reading the whole thing through again and then handed the tied scroll to Hedwig. Her talons closed tightly around the message.

“Now,” said Harry seriously. “I want you to drop the message the first sign of any trouble, okay? You are to deliver the message to Mrs Deepwater in Kensington. She’s the courier for today that will get this to Miss Alice for us. Don’t leave the message with anyone but her.”

Hedwig looked at him quite indignantly that he should feel the need to remind her of that.

“Keep safe,” he whispered as he carried her over to the window.

The Battle Standard

by Jardyn39

Chapter 3 – Alpha Store

Harry, Ron and Hermione Apparated right into the middle of the authorised wizard arrival point and were a little taken aback to find themselves surrounded by hooded figures each pointing a variety of automatic weapons at the three of them.

“Don’t move until your identities have been verified,” said a voice from speaker high above them.

There was a tense pause of several seconds before the voice continued, “Video identity match confirmed. Stand down Stage One and escort visitors to the Stage Two security verification.”

The guns were immediately lifted and three narrow doors opened on the far wall.

Harry led the way across the room and entered the centre door which closed right behind him. He was actually in a small, brightly lit kiosk with a variety of cameras spying at him for an assortment of angles. On the far wall was another door, presumably the exit. The two other walls had full height mirrors that Harry guessed had security personnel behind to monitor him.

There was the humming sound of a speaker being turned on, and a new voice said, “State surname and first name.”

“Potter, Harry,” he said clearly.

“State pass-phrase,” the voice demanded.

“Do what is right; not what is easy.”

“Say the name of the Dark Lord.”

“Voldemort!”

The second door opened at once and Harry stepped out.

“Welcome back, Sir,” said the escort waiting for him. “If you’d come this way, Miss Alice is expecting you.”

“Um, my friends-” Harry began to say.

“They will join us there, Sir.”

Harry nodded and followed him along the long deserted corridor. A series of doors later, Harry was shown into the large briefing room where the giant red cauldron resided.

Almost at once, Hermione and her escort appeared and they walked together over to the central table where Mary and Bateman were talking.

Bateman stood at once to greet them.

“Hello, Hermione,” he said warmly. “I’m sorry we didn’t give you much warning.”

Hermione smiled warmly and said, “Don’t be silly, John,” before kissing him on his cheek.

“Please, take a seat,” said Mary. “John, perhaps you’d better go and remind Ron what his pass phrase is?”

“Sure,” he said with a laugh. “Back in a moment.”

“I’d offer you drinks, but you don’t have time,” said Mary with a smile. Her tone was friendly enough, but Harry knew that Miss Alice had business with them tonight.

“What is it?” asked Harry.

“Well, thanks to your note, Harry, I believe we have a golden opportunity before us.”

“Hang on,” said Harry, “I did warn you in my letter-”

“Yes, that Voldemort might have been tricking us? Indeed, that is still a possibility.”

At that moment, Ron and Bateman appeared from another side door and came over to the table.

“Welcome, Ron,” said Miss Alice before continuing. “We know the location of the Alpha Store and we were planning to raid it in a few weeks time anyway. Unfortunately we are not quite ready yet and I believe it would be a mistake to use the proposed unit.”

“Are you afraid the improved security will make that difficult now?”

“Admittedly, the store may be of greater importance to Voldemort than we previously assumed. However, the main reason I want us to act now, tonight, is the chance to capture two of Voldemort’s key strategists.”

“Tetto and the girl?”

“Yes.”

“Who is the girl?” asked Hermione.

“We only know about her from Harry’s information,” confirmed Miss Alice. “We don’t know her name. She is female and either is still attending Hogwarts or has recently left. You should not assume she is in Slytherin House either. She may also be in disguise.”

They all nodded, wondering who she could be.

“We also don’t have much on Tetto either,” said Bateman.

“I can recognise him,” said Harry. “I got a clear look.”

“Now,” said Miss Alice seriously. “On no account is either Tetto or the girl to be killed. It is vital that we take them alive.”

“How protected is the Alpha Store?”

“It is lightly defended, but we do know they are loyal Death Eaters.”

“How many are coming with us?”

“I believe that stealth will prove to be more effective than brute force. The three of you will go alone.”

“You’re not coming with us, Bear?” asked Harry, sounding disappointed.

“Mary feels I’d just get in the way.”

Miss Alice rolled her eyes and said, “I didn’t say that, but the three of you will be free to Disapparate away cleanly if necessary.”

Bateman looked at his watch and said, “Two hours until dawn. You should get going, if you’re going.”

“One final thing,” said Miss Alice as they all rose. “If any of you are captured and are interrogated, keep thinking of that red cauldron over there.”

“I’ve been hardly able to keep my eyes of it the whole time I’ve been here!” admitted Ron.

“Me too,” said Hermione.

“Good,” said Miss Alice with a knowing smile.

“Is it charmed somehow?” asked Hermione.

Miss Alice just smiled wider and said, “You’d better get going.”

*

“What is with that cauldron, anyway?” asked Ron as the three of them crept along behind a low dry stone wall.

“It must be something to do with how they block Legilimency,” whispered Hermione.

“But how?” asked Ron. “Anyway, I can’t believe they really know how to do that. What do you think, Harry?”

“I think we’d better be a little quieter from now on,” he replied from the front.

“I mean about the cauldron,” continued Ron. “Didn’t you say Bateman said there was some kind of message inscribed on it? I didn’t see any message.”

“Ron! Shhh!” Hermione said sharply.

“Alright, keep you hair on!” whispered Ron loudly.

Harry was about to turn and make them both be quiet when he heard a sizzling noise. This was followed by an, “Ow!” from Ron and the smell of skin burning.

“It’s just over there,” whispered Harry. “If you look through the cracks in the wall you can see what looks like a small hut. I think that’s it.”

“There are a couple of tents too,” whispered Hermione. “I wonder how many of them there are?”

“Plenty, I shouldn’t wonder,” said Harry darkly. “Alright, I’m going to approach from the East. You two carry on and then come in from the opposite side. Don’t reveal yourselves until you really have to.”

“Shouldn’t we stay together?” asked Hermione.

“No. I want to set off any warning charms they have set up. I’m hoping that our targets will reveal themselves. You’ll also get a better idea of the numbers they have.”

“Oh, Harry. Be careful.”

“I’ll be fine,” he promised, moving off into the darkness.

*

Harry easily disabled three magical tripwires on his approach. Thanks to Bateman’s teaching, Harry had learnt that the best way to anticipate where they were was to learn the best places to lay the traps himself.

Now that he was closer, Harry could see that the small hut was lit from inside and appeared to have guards posted just inside the open door. He was also sure there would be additional guards outside wearing invisibility cloaks.

Harry approached the first tent. After listening intently for any sign of activity inside for a while, he crept around to peek inside the entrance.

The tent was quite empty but looked like it was a lodging for at least a dozen watch-wizards. He was about to go when he saw movement inside.

He counted the number of cots he thought were occupied by sleeping wizards. Presumably this was the day watch.

He had a choice. He could either go in and stun them as they slept or leave them alone. He decided the former was too risky. It was still very dark and the red light of his stunners might be seen through the tent fabric.

Harry decided the best thing to do would be to lace a sticking charm on the tent flaps. That way at least they’d have some warning as they blasted their way out of the tent.

Harry moved on to the second tent which was slightly smaller but had the advantage of having the entrance obscured by the first so that it could not be seen from the hut.

He peered inside and found it to be quite empty.

The last tent was set apart from the other two. For the first time Harry had to cross open ground in order to reach the entrance.

As quietly as possible, he crossed the open gap of around twenty feet. He was almost there when he heard voices.

Without thinking, Harry dived for cover. Fortunately he found long grass and made hardly any sound as he landed.

He listened hard and realised that the voices were coming from inside the tent. He crept around the far edge towards the entrance, hoping to make some sense of the conversation.

*

“Why in Merlin’s name did he kill Tibbins?” said an angry female voice.

“It was just an impulsive thing,” replied Tetto. “Tibbins made him angry.”

“I’m not coming back.”

“You must if you wish to live.”

“If I do come back, how much longer would I last than Tibbins? I have no idea about those stupid Muggle messages.”

“He knows that. The Dark Lord knows you have other talents that will prove to be much more effective. Realistically, we are never going to understand the Muggle methods.”

“So what can I do then?”

“Don’t be so modest. You were the one who identified the Muggle woman who Tibbins used to crack the code.”

“I also predicted this place would be raided, didn’t I?”

“It may yet,” Tetto reminded her. “Are you ready to return with me?”

“The additional wards around this place are not in place yet. This entire area was supposed to be protected, but I found I could get through with the minimum of effort.”

“What about the original wards?”

“Let’s just say the castor should have paid more attention in his Charms classes.”

“I was wondering where Dapplewood was,” said Tetto.

“I left his body by the hut as a reminder to the others. Is he really intent upon making me take the Dark Mark?”

“You make it sound like a punishment.”

“For me, it will be.”

“It would be a mistake to delay. He would think you had doubts.”

“He already knows. How could he not, anyway?”

“Well, I think that Muggle’s betrayal affected him more than he admits. He was completely duped, and he even apparently had the temerity to challenge the Dark Lord to read his mind.”

“So, why didn’t he?”

“Quite candidly, just between you and I, but I suspect he was quite unable to.”

“Really?”

“There could have any number of reasons, of course. I have noted that the Dark Lord sometimes allows his temper to get the better of him.”

“Don’t let any of his loyal Death Eaters hear you say that. They may be stupid, but they would love any excuse to remove you from his confidences.”

“They have become rather jealous, haven’t they? No doubt their mood won’t be improved by your new standing.”

“Thanks. You’re really doing a great job persuading me to come back.”

Tetto chuckled and said, “We both know you have already decided. Can we go now or do wish to inform the guard?”

“I’d better tell them. Wait here for me. I’ll only be a moment. What on earth?”

Harry fired two powerful stunners directly into the tent opening that the girl had just opened.

“Hey! Who’s there?” shouted someone from the hut.

“Incarcerous!” whispered Harry and thick ropes erupted from his wand tip and bound his two unconscious victims.

“Relax, Jim,” came another voice from some way off. “She’s probably just taking pot shots at one of the sleeping sentries again.”

“Who is there to shoot at?” called Jim. “Everyone on our shift is inside.”

Harry stepped out of the tent and fired a volley of curses towards the small hut. His third hit the cloaked Jim but his main intention was to pin down the guards still inside the hut.

He had to dive to avoid their returning fire but he continued to have the upper hand until the shouting woke up the remainder in the larger tent. Soon he could hear them all blasting Reductor curses at the tent fabric to get outside.

Suddenly a new volley of powerful spells flew over his head. Harry looked around in alarm but quickly realised it was just Hermione firing into the tent. Ron was also firing from a few feet away.

Unfortunately, the guards inside the hut quickly realised where the new attack was coming from and immediately fired at Hermione.

Harry ran forward to distract them and fired again.

His curses bounced off high up into the sky. They were barricaded inside the hut and protected by a magical shield that made it almost impossible to get a clean shot.

To Harry’s surprise, Ron ran up and blasted the hut with a volley of curses that Harry recognised were from the Rodium family. The hut remained unscathed but the ground underneath clearly hadn’t been so well protected. The entire front of the hut wobbled and then fell into the gaping hole in the ground left by Ron’s attack.

This broke the shield spells on the hut and Harry and Ron made short work of the remainder of the guards.

Finally, the area fell silent other than the crackling of burning timbers.

Hermione rushed up to them and asked, “You both okay?”

“Yes, you?”

“Fine. The two tied up in that tent are still unconscious.”

“Good,” said Harry. “You and Ron take them back to Miss Alice as agreed.”

“What about you?”

“I’m going to take a look in that store. It looks like the hut was covering some kind of opening. There’s a ladder down into a chamber.”

“Harry, we didn’t come here for that,” Hermione reminded him. “If you want to go then we should come with you.”

“No,” said Harry firmly. “Miss Alice said taking those two alive was the top priority. Please, Hermione?”

“I’m going to regret this,” she growled before storming off. “Ron, come on! If we hurry we can get back in time to rescue him.”

Ron stood still with a questioning look on his face.

“I’ll be fine,” Harry assured him.

*

Harry stepped of the bottom rung of the rusting ladder and turned. He was in a small cave with a level floor.

Before him were several high racks.

He picked up a lantern and went over to the closest rack and found it to be brimming with potions ingredients. Harry held his lantern up but be couldn’t see the end of the isle.

The second rack contained an assortment of made up potions. This rack was less populated and he guessed that they had been using the potions and not replacing them. He noted that the potions were almost exclusively poisons.

The third rack contained a poor assortment of brooms and several rolls of carpet. He tugged at a piece of material on one of the upper shelves and found it was an invisibility cloak. He held it up and noted its incredibly poor condition. It was frayed and worn, so that it really wasn’t invisible at all.

Harry frowned and moved on to the last rack. This was full of Dark Magic books, except that none of them looked complete. Many clearly had entire sections torn out.

Harry reached into his cloak utility pocket and took out the device Bateman had given him.

Hiding it quite far down the isle and under the invisibility cloak he’d found, he set the timer and hurried back to the ladder and climbed up out of the cave.

He was only a few feet from the entrance when he heard a deep whooshing sound from down in the cave. Then red flames shot up followed by black acrid smoke.

The device was an incendiary, designed to burn rather than explode.

Satisfied that there was nothing else to be done, Harry Disapparated away.

*

“Harry! Thank goodness you are alright!” cried Hermione as soon as he entered the room. “We would have come back, but they wouldn’t let us,” she added with a dark look at

Miss Alice.

Harry smiled and said, “It was for the best.”

He walked over to

Miss Alice who was standing before a window through which Harry could see their two latest captives. The interrogation room was much brighter than the subdued lighting of the room they were in.

“Don’t worry, they can’t see or hear us in here,” said Miss Alice.

Harry nodded and looked at the pair with interest. Tetto was prowling the room like a caged animal but the girl was sitting quietly at the bolted down table.

“They can’t Apparate away?” asked Harry.

“No, there are wards all around these rooms. Find anything interesting down in that store?”

“Quite the opposite. It was just a load of old rubbish. Hardly worth guarding at all, actually.”

“As I suspected. I believe it likely that they moved the more valuable items before you arrived.”

“Oh, right,” said Harry. “I half hoped they were guarding it because they had nothing else.”

Miss Alice turned and smiled at him.

“One day, Harry,” she promised. “One day.”

“Who is she?”

“Don’t you recognise her?” asked Miss Alice.

“No, not at all,” he admitted.

“But you do know her, Harry,” said Hermione. “We all do.”

“Really?” asked Ron. “What year was she in?”

“Ours.”

Harry looked again, but shook his head doubtfully.

“She has lost rather a lot of weight, admittedly,” said Hermione from behind them. “She also didn’t have blond hair and actually wore rather more makeup that she’s got on now.”

Harry frowned as he slowly recognised the girl. It was her eyes that gave her away.

“No way,” he breathed. “She’s completely different. I mean. Her voice is different too.”

“People often reinvent themselves when they move from one phase of their life to another,” observed Miss Alice. “It will take some time to process her.”

“She wanted to refuse the Dark Mark,” said Harry. “That must count for something.”

“Oh, it does,” Miss Alice said darkly.

Harry turned to face her having recognised that Miss Alice was once again several steps ahead of everyone else.

Miss Alice pushed a small red button in front of her.

“Subject Tetto,” said a harsh computerised voice that was played in both rooms. “Proceed to Cell 19 and await interrogation.”

The door opened and Tetto stepped out.

“Subject Parkinson,” said the computerised voice, making her head come up with a start.

“Interesting,” muttered Miss Alice. “She didn’t think we would recognise her.”

Miss Alice pushed the button again.

“Sentenced to death. Sentence to be carried out immediately unless subject wishes to co-operate.”

A panel in the metal desk slid open to reveal a pad of paper and some pencils.

“The subject will write down everything she knows relating to Lord Voldemort and his followers.”

She grabbed the pad and threw it across the room before uttering a loud stream of expletives to the empty room.

“Hey, that’s Pansy!” cried Ron, having at last recognised her.

Miss Alice pressed another concealed button and Pansy collapsed to the floor, rendered unconscious by some invisible gas.

“I want your personal assurance that she will not be harmed,” said Harry seriously.

“She will not be intentionally harmed,” said Miss Alice, “unless she tries to escape.”

“When do you plan for her to do that?” asked Hermione astutely.

“You plan for her to escape?” asked Ron.

“Well, that depends upon how well her interrogation goes. In her case it may take weeks before she is ready.”

*

They got back to Grimmauld Place and had coffee with Kreacher in the kitchen.

“Was it just me, or was Miss Alice being a bit creepy today?” asked Ron.

“Yes, I thought that,” agreed Hermione.

“Thanks, Kreacher,” said Harry taking the cup of coffee he was offered. He immediately pulled out the chair next to him and said, “Don’t forget your own cup, will you?”

Kreacher muttered something inaudible before returning to the table with a fourth cup and sitting down next to Harry.

Normally the house elf preferred to make himself absent when either Ron or Hermione were around, but Harry made it clear that Kreacher was to be included.

“I wonder what her plan really is,” said Harry as he sipped his drink.

“Why would she want to let Pansy go?” asked Ron. “And, how come you were so keen on her not being hurt, Harry?”

Harry just shrugged.

“I suppose I believed what I overheard. If Pansy was only a reluctant Voldemort supporter, then perhaps she could be recruited for our side. If she is tortured by our side, then there would be no hope of that.”

“Except that Mary doesn’t believe it, does she?” said Hermione.

“No,” agreed Harry. “She thinks that this entire thing is one of Voldemort’s little games. Pansy is a plant. We are supposed to believe she would turn against Voldemort and immediately confide all our secrets to her.”

“So, Miss Alice must be considering using her to get at Voldemort,” added Hermione. “They will programme her just like they did John Bateman.”

“Too complicated for me,” observed Ron. “Any chance of some biscuits, Kreacher?”

Kreacher opened his mouth to respond but at once Harry said, “You know where they are, Ron. Get them yourself.”

Ron got up and caught the dark look Kreacher was giving Harry.

“So, what do you think, Kreacher?” asked Harry. This appeared to shake Kreacher out of his annoyance with him.

“Kreacher knows Master has a habit of trusting where others might not.”

“True,” agreed Harry with a smile.

“Hang on,” said Hermione slowly. “What are you thinking of?”

“We have a little time, but not weeks,” began Harry as Ron returned with the biscuit barrel. “Miss Alice will discover for certain that Pansy will remain loyal to Voldemort, simply because she is too afraid to do anything else. Pansy can be relied upon to pretend to waiver whatever happens, simply because she’ll see that as her best chance of getting out of there.”

“Agreed,” said Hermione.

“The hitch will come when Miss Alice finds Pansy can’t be relied upon to do her bidding. There will come a point when it will just be safer all round to eliminate Pansy.”

Ron looked up from the biscuit barrel.

“So, what are we going to do?” he asked cautiously.

“Um, I think we should rescue her and then let her go.”

“And?”

“No and. That’s it. No more.”

“Great plan, Harry,” said Ron returning his attention back to the biscuits.

“I’m not naive enough to think she might return the favour,” admitted Harry.

“How do we know this isn’t what Miss Alice intends for us to do?” asked Hermione.

“That’s the point. This is exactly what she intends for us to do.”

“Kreacher, has Harry always been this mad or has his recent episode affected him more than we thought?” asked Ron.

“Master’s eccentricity is always surprising Kreacher.”

“Thanks, Kreacher,” said Harry with a smile. “Are you ever going to offer us one of those biscuits, Ron?”

Ron hugged the barrel protectively and shook his head no.

The Battle Standard

by Jardyn39

Chapter 4 – The Other Ring

Harry stepped out of the fireplace into Professor McGonagall’s office.

“Welcome, Harry,” she said not looking up from her desk.

“Hello, Professor,” he replied.

“Neville should be along shortly,” she continued, adding a short note to the bottom of the sheet of parchment in front of her.

Harry nodded and walked over to the portrait of Professor Dumbledore who was still sleeping soundly in his frame. It always amazed him how lifelike his former Headmaster’s likeness was.

He turned and not wishing to interrupt Professor McGonagall, he went over to the window overlooking the grounds. It was a fine day and he could see a couple of students flying high over the Quidditch stadium.

“Hagrid insisted that we reinstate the Quidditch Cup,” said the Professor.

Harry grinned and turned to face her, sure that Hagrid wouldn’t have needed to try very hard to persuade her that it would be safe for Quidditch matches to begin again.

“How do you pick sides now there are no Houses?”

“The students organised themselves into teams. We actually have six teams in the league this year. Next year it looks like there will be even more. There is also quite a lot of support for a knock-out competition as well.”

“That’s great,” said Harry. “I always thought there should be more matches.”

There was a soft knock on the door and Professor McGonagall said sharply, “Come!”

The door opened and Neville walked in.

“Hi, Harry. Ready to go?”

“Hello, Neville,” Harry replied with a smile. “Yes, I think so, unless there is anything, Professor?”

“Neville, you are to be back here no later than eight o’clock this evening. Any later and the wards will prevent you from coming back into the grounds. If you are delayed, please inform me at once.”

“Yes, Professor,” said Neville.

“Harry, I would remind you that we have an appointment Thursday evening to continue your studies.”

“Thanks, Professor. I’ll remember,” he promised.

Neville threw a pinch of Floo Powder into the fire and entered first.

*

Harry stepped out into a brightly lit drawing room. Before him, Neville was brushing himself down with his wand. Harry hurried to do the same and had just finished when Mrs Longbottom came into the room.

“Harry, it’s most nice to see you again,” said Mrs Longbottom, extending her hand.

“Thank you for seeing me, Mrs Longbottom.”

“Not at all,” she said pleasantly. “Neville said something about you wishing to see the family ring? You are most welcome to see it, of course, but how ever did you even learn about its existence?”

Harry shot an uncertain look at Neville.

“I didn’t feel I should tell Gran that, Harry,” admitted Neville sheepishly.

“Um, it’s a rather strange tale, actually,” said Harry.

“Most intriguing,” said Mrs Longbottom with a smile. “I look forward to hearing all about it over luncheon. Shall we go through?”

*

Over lunch Harry told Mrs Longbottom almost everything about his vision of the future and how he came to catch a glimpse of the Longbottom family ring. He decided not to mention that he knew the identity of Christopher Longbottom’s mother to save Neville any embarrassment.

“You said you only saw the ring briefly, Harry,” said Mrs Longbottom. “Can you describe it at all?”

“Well,” said Harry, frowning slightly as he thought back. “It was a heavy looking ring. I’m sure it was gold and it had a highly polished surface. I think it had a single stone. It looked red coloured, but it didn’t glitter like a ruby.”

He shrugged and said, “I’m afraid that’s it. I really didn’t get that close.”

Mrs Longbottom reached for a small box in front of her that Harry hadn’t noticed before. She opened the hinged lid and slid the box over to him.

Harry gasped as he saw the golden ring.

It was exactly as he remembered seeing it. If there was a difference, he was sure he hadn’t seen it.

“May I take it out of the box?” asked Harry.

“Please do,” said Mrs Longbottom.

“Harry?” said Neville. “Show Gran your ring, will you?”

“Sure,” Harry said at once and slid the ring off his ringer and offered it to her.

“This is really Slytherin’s ring?” she said incredulously.

“Yes, Professor Dumbledore showed me last year,” said Harry, carefully lifting the golden ring out of the box.

The ring was quite as heavy as Slytherin’s ring but the finish had far more lustre. The red stone wasn’t a ruby as he’d suspected.

“This is a family heirloom?” asked Harry.

“Yes.”

“How long has it been in your family?”

“It came to us sometime during the tenth century, although there has been considerable speculation that it belonged to a family member long before then.”

“When did you personally receive the ring?”

“That would be the Spring of 1914. My father-in-law gave it to me for safekeeping. He was a sweet man.”

“Has it ever,” began Harry, before he looked up, suddenly realising the significance of the date. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

Mrs Longbottom smiled warmly and said, “It was a long time ago. Ask your question,” she prompted gently.

“Has it ever been out of your possession?”

“No. Well, to be entirely accurate, only once. Frank asked to use it once but the ring never left my sight, as it happened.”

“What about for cleaning or restoration?”

“No. It has never needed restoration nor repairs. In any event, I would not be comfortable leaving such a valuable jewel with anyone outside the family.”

“It is valuable, then?”

“Priceless, although only in monetary terms because it is so unique. Very few people outside the immediate family even know of that ring’s existence, Harry. If they did, we might need to review our household security arrangements.”

“Why? I mean,” he added quickly, “if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Harry, that is Gryffindor’s ring.”

Harry just nodded in wonder. He had no idea how, but something deep inside him knew that this ring did indeed once belong to Godric Gryffindor.

He also now felt that the ring was unlikely to be one of the remaining Horcruxes, since Voldemort never had an opportunity to steal it.

“Put the ring on, Harry,” Mrs Longbottom commanded.

“No, I shouldn’t. It wouldn’t be right.”

Mrs Longbottom handed Slytherin’s ring to Neville and said, “Neville, put this Slytherin ring on your finger too.”

Both Neville and Harry exchanged quizzical looks, but then each shrugged and nodded.

Neville tried first, but try as he might, the ring would now allow itself to be placed on any of his fingers. The ring went as far as his first knuckle, but no further.

Mrs Longbottom chuckled kindly, clearly expecting this to happen and said, “Go on, Harry. You next.”

Harry grinned and held the ring up.

Fully expecting to have exactly the same difficulties as Neville, he pushed the ring over his finger.

Neville gasped audibly as the ring slid onto Harry’s finger with no resistance at all.

Harry shuddered and fought the impulse to pull the ring off and hurl it away.

“Now, this tells us a number of things,” said Mrs Longbottom. Harry looked up at her, hoping they wouldn’t notice just how uncomfortable he felt.

“Firstly, we have confirmation that Neville here is as far away from Slytherin’s blood line as it’s possible to get. I have no doubt that I could not wear the ring either.”

Harry nodded and discretely pulled the ring off his finger. A wave of relief swept through him.

“Secondly, it shows us that there is some truth in the vision you have seen. Hardly anyone outside the family knows of this effect and yet you saw the ring pulled off your own fingers.”

“Actually, I didn’t see my face,” said Harry. “I only had Christopher’s word that it was an older version of me under the table.”

“Thirdly,” continued Mrs Longbottom, “you must be distantly related to both Slytherin and Gryffindor.”

Harry frowned and said, “Dumbledore wore Slytherin’s ring. Was my Dad related to Dumbledore?”

“All the pureblood families share a degree of common ancestry. To be honest, your Mother’s bloodline would well be a factor as well. Remember, the Founders lived hundreds of years ago.”

Harry nodded, but his mind was full of only one thing: he and Dumbledore may have shared a common ancestry, even if it was as far back as Slytherin himself.

“Did Dumbledore ever try Gryffindor’s ring on?” he asked.

“No, not that I’m aware of. I’m fairly sure he would not have been able to wear it, though.”

Harry placed the ring back in the box.

“Can you think of any reason at all why I would have this ring?”

“That part of your story seemed the most difficult to accept,” said Mrs Longbottom. “If Neville or his descendants were deceased, perhaps. Otherwise, I can’t see how that would ever happen. Even if you were to marry into the Longbottom family, your wife would hold the ring, not you.”

“Christopher implied that Neville and I were still friends, despite everything.”

Harry sighed and pushed the box back over to her.

“Unfortunately, the only thing I can think of is if I were to steal the ring; take it by force,” he said, voicing the reason he thought had made the ring so extremely uncomfortable to wear.

“I refuse to believe you, Harry, would ever be capable of any such thing.”

Harry smiled at her and said, “Thanks, Mrs Longbottom, but the future version of me didn’t sound like he was very nice at all.”

Neville got up and poured the three of them coffee.

“Mrs Longbottom? I’d like you to seriously consider improving the security around here.”

“We are not unprotected, Harry.”

“Even so. Listen, I would have wanted to see that ring even if I hadn’t seen it in some vision. If Voldemort knew of that ring, I’m sure he would have attempted to steal it. He wouldn’t care who he hurt or killed to get it either.”

“But, he doesn’t know, does he?”

“Please, let’s not take any chances?”

“Harry’s right, Gran,” said Neville. “Do you really need to keep the ring around the house?”

“I’m an old woman who needs old woman’s comforts, both of you. When you get to my age you’ll understand that things like that evoke memories that are important to me.”

“Your safety is more important to me than some trinket,” said Neville drinking his coffee quickly. “I’ve just got time to take a couple of cuttings to take back with us. Keep on at her, will you Harry?”

Neville dashed out of the room leaving Harry and Mrs Longbottom to exchange smiles.

Of course, Harry didn’t think his powers of persuasion were any kind of match for Mrs Longbottom’s determination, so he decided to change the subject.

“This is certainly an impressive room, Mrs Longbottom. I particularly like the view of the garden from here.”

“Thank you, Harry. This was always my late husband’s favourite view as well. He was a keen gardener too.”

“That’s where Neville got his green fingers from, then?”

“Oh, Merlin, no! Mr Longbottom was hopeless. He never could resist over-trimming everything in sight. Honestly, it’s a wonder anything survived.”

Harry chuckled softly as Mrs Longbottom rose and said, “Come, Harry. Let’s take a walk through the walled garden. We can meet up with Neville in the greenhouses.”

“Sure,” said Harry.

*

Mrs Longbottom took Harry’s arm to descend the steps down from the wide rear terrace. Harry thought the garden was incredibly regimented. The grass paths that separated the beds were perfectly straight and there wasn’t a weed in sight.

“The garden won’t be quite at its best until the summer,” commented Mrs Longbottom as they walked along. “Still, the walled garden enabled us to bring a few varieties along sooner. I do like to see a little colour.”

Harry nodded seeing the high stone and brick wall they were approaching. He guessed the walled garden was behind the closed timber pair of doors they were approaching.

Mrs Longbottom tapped the lock with her wand and the door clicked and opened at once.

Directly ahead was plain brick wall. Mrs Longbottom walked forward onto a gravel path on the other side of the doorway and immediately wheeled around to the left.

Harry followed, realising that the brick wall was there to act as a screen in case curious Muggles caught a glimpse.

Although Harry expected to see a number of plants that were flowering out of season, he wasn’t at all prepared for the extraordinary sight before him.

The first thing that hit him was the incredible heat. Despite there being no roof, the air was hotter than any greenhouse he’d been in, including the Hogwarts hot-houses. The air was thick with exotic flower scents too.

The second thing that hit Harry was a fairy that flew straight at his face. It impacted heavily against his forehead. He swatted the flying creature away and realised that the fairies he could now see darting everywhere were not the usual kind. These appeared to be far more aggressive.

Thankfully the fairy, who was about to attack Harry in earnest, bumped mid-air into another aggressive fairy and they immediately began to fight.

Harry hurried to catch up with Mrs Longbottom.

“This garden is amazing,” said Harry, raising his voice to be heard over the loud calls of the jungle birds.

“A little extravagant, though,” replied Mrs Longbottom pleasantly. “We originally had humming birds too, for authenticity. Unfortunately, the fairies are rather partial to them and they didn’t last very long. The larger birds are not magical but are big enough to take care of themselves.”

As she spoke, Harry saw a large multi-coloured bird that he didn’t recognise gobble down the remains of a fairy that had obviously got a little too close.

The gravel path followed the high curved wall in a long radius. To their right, all Harry could see was the thick jungle.

Soon they came to another doorway in the high perimeter wall. As soon as he stepped past the brick screen, Harry noticed a distinct drop in the air temperature and the sounds of the garden faded.

“You’ll find stepping from one climate to another takes some getting used to,” said Mrs Longbottom.

The door opened and for a moment Harry thought it was snowing outside. The stepped out of the walled garden and Harry realised it was the same temperate day as they’d left the house in.

“The greenhouses are this way,” said Mrs Longbottom after locking the door behind her with a tap of her wand.

Harry followed her down a short flight of steps towards a small ornate fountain.

The greenhouses were concealed for the most part behind a thick green hedge. They walked along until they came to a small opening that had a recessed door leading inside.

The greenhouse was massive inside, with rows and rows of planting beds. Just at the entrance there was a path that lead across all the beds making a short-cut across to the other side.

“Where has Neville got to?” Mrs Longbottom wondered aloud. “I do hope he hasn’t gone off to one of the larger greenhouses or we’ll have to get brooms.”

Harry laughed, not entirely sure if she was serious or not.

Then they both turned hearing a crash over to their right. Harry looked but could see nothing. He hurried along the cross-path looking down the aisles. Then something caught his eye. He began to walk over, seeing that there was a seed tray on the ground and fresh compost strewn around.

Then he saw movement.

“Harry! Gran!” cried Neville weakly. “Behind you!”

Harry wheeled around and withdrew his wand.

Mrs Longbottom, who had neither seen nor heard Neville, looked at him with some alarm.

“Whatever is the matter?”

Harry dived in front of her and just managed to shield her from one of the stunners that were being fired from the far end of the greenhouse.

Four wizards were running towards them, one in each of the aisles.

“Get down!” cried Harry.

“I most certainly will not!”

“These plants are high enough to hide in,” said Harry as loudly as he dared, firing and hitting the closest wizard.

He fired again but the other wizards managed to dodge his spells.

Quickly the three remaining attackers were within feet of the two of them.

“Alright,” said one, clearly trying to catch his breath. “Drop your wand or she gets hurt.”

Two of them were pointing their wands at Mrs Longbottom.

Harry lowered his wand slightly.

“If you dare drop your guard, Harry,” said Mrs Longbottom from behind him, “you will incur my extreme disapproval.”

At this one of the wizards pointed his wand from Mrs Longbottom and towards himself.

Harry fired as quickly as he could.

He got the one pointing his wand at Mrs Longbottom first and then blasted the spokesman off his feet. Neville had got the third one before Harry got the chance.

“You okay?” asked Harry with concern.

“I’m fine. Let’s see to Neville, shall we?”

They found Neville crawling out of the planting beds in obvious pain.

“They got me from behind,” he complained. “Just look at my cuttings!”

Realising that Neville wasn’t seriously injured, Harry returned to the attackers and bound them. He searched through their pockets but found no identification at all. He did find a piece of parchment with the Longbottom’s address and a single word that read, “Buttercup.”

He returned to the others.

“How ever did they get past the security wards?” Neville was asking.

“I found this on one of them,” said Harry, handing the parchment to Mrs Longbottom.

She visibly paled reading the words.

“Buttercup?” she repeated weakly.

“That’s the security over-ride,” said Neville. “Hardly anyone knows that.”

“Well, clearly someone knows who shouldn’t,” said Harry. “I think we should all get away from here as soon as possible. Where is the nearest fireplace that I can call the Aurors from?”

“Back up at the house, Harry,” said Neville, “but I want to get Gran away from here as soon as possible. I heard them talking when they thought I was knocked out. They were after her, not us. Could you take her back to Hogwarts for me? I know the wards will allow you inside but the gates would stay locked shut for me.”

“What about you?”

“I need to collect a few things. I’ll call the Aurors and then follow.”

“I’m not sure, Neville. There could be more of them.”

“Please, Harry.”

“How about if I drop her off somewhere safe for now. I can be back here much quicker then.”

“Nowhere is as safe as Hogwarts, Harry.”

“Inside Hogwarts, you mean. I can only Apparate outside the grounds and then form an entrance. If they are really after her, she’ll be vulnerable until I managed to get her inside. That could take some time. It would be much better to take her somewhere Voldemort can’t get to.”

“So where will you take her?” asked Neville.

“London, remember?”

Neville frowned and Harry knew that the Fidelius Charm on Grimmauld Place was affecting his memory. Neville had only been there the once and Harry still hadn’t got around to having him included amongst the few people told of the place by the new secret keeper.

“I’ll meet you back at the house,” said Harry, grabbing hold of Mrs Longbottom.

*

They directly Apparated into the kitchen of Grimmauld Place.

“Kreacher!” shouted Harry at the top of his voice. “Come here! I need you!”

Kreacher appeared with a loud crack just as Harry was about to bellow again.

“Hi, Kreacher. Thanks for coming so quickly. This is Mrs Longbottom. Please look after her and keep her safe until I return. She is not to leave the house under any circumstances.”

Harry gently guided Mrs Longbottom to a chair and prised the parchment from her fingers.

He then kneeled down in front of the house elf and said quietly, “She’s had a bit of a shock. Make her some tea and then call the Ministry of Magic. Say there has been an attack at the Longbottom estate. Neville is still there and I’m returning there now. There were four attackers but they may be more. Got all that?”

“What is Kreacher to do with this parchment?”

“That is the address of the Longbottom property. Buttercup is the password that gets past all the security. Tell the Ministry everything. The password will have to be changed now, anyway.”

Kreacher nodded and Harry rose to his feet. He touched Mrs Longbottom’s arm gently and said, “I’ll be back as soon as I can. I need to get back to Neville.”

She showed no sign of hearing him.

Harry straightened up and Disapparated at once.

*

Harry instinctively threw his arm up to shield his face from the flying glass. The windows along the wide terrace had exploded outwards almost the moment he had Apparated just outside.

He had first gone back to the Greenhouses and discovered the four assailants missing. Realising the Neville might be in trouble, he had Disapparated back up to the house. He wasn’t too sure how close the protective wards would allow him, so he decided to try the terrace first.

Harry dashed inside through one of the destroyed windows.

Neville was firing hexes from behind an upturned antique desk in a far corner of the large room. He was surrounded by six cloaked attackers.

Harry began firing at once and their confusion at his sudden appearance worked to their advantage. He got three of them before they even knew he was here and then drew fire away from Neville.

One of the attackers decided to make a run for the far window, but was cut down by a hex fired from outside.

Neville and Harry each stunned the remaining two as a wheezing figure staggered into the room.

“Jenkins?” said Neville, getting up and rushing over to the old man. “Here, come and sit down a moment.”

Neville grabbed a chair, made a hasty repair to restore the missing leg and placed it before the old man.

“I’m sorry, master Neville,” he said between pants. “I came as quickly as I could.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about, Jenkins,” Neville said firmly. “You did just fine.”

“Mrs Longbottom?”

Neville looked back at Harry who said, “She’s somewhere safe. I left someone looking after her and the Ministry should arrive soon.”

Neville nodded and looked around the room. Hardly any furniture had survived and most of the paintings had large scorch marks on them.

There was a pop and three house elves appeared before them.

“What a mess!” cried one.

“Listen, all of you,” Neville said kindly. “We mustn’t start to clear this place up until after the Ministry people have finished investigating.”

The three looked very uncomfortable about this instruction.

“The Ministry people will be arriving soon,” continued Neville. “Why not prepare them teas?”

They immediately brightened at this.

“Some lunch too?” piped up one.

“Sure, why not?” agreed Neville with a smile.

There was the sound of a ringing bell.

Jenkins stood at once and said, “That’ll be the Ministry. I’ll go and let them in. I’m afraid I took the liberty of changing the grounds security code when I realised we had unwelcome company. Rather too late as it happens.”

“No, that was good thinking, Jenkins,” agreed Neville. “Will you be okay on your own?”

“Oh, yes,” he agreed wiping his brow with an old handkerchief, “I’m got my breath back now.”

He got up and made his way back outside.

“Harry, help me right this desk, will you?”

“Sure,” said Harry, pointing his wand and intending to levitate the heavy looking desk.

“Sorry, but we need to do this the hard way. The desk won’t respond to magic at all. That’s why we use it and why it was such a good thing to hide behind.”

The two of them struggled to right the desk. Harry couldn’t believe how heavy it was, but eventually they righted it and Neville could get to the drawers.

He quickly opened the topmost drawer and pressed a concealed button inside. Two things happened. A thin drawer popped open that had previously looked like a simple division. Neville reached out and pulled the drawer open. Inside was a flat piece of parchment that he quickly pocketed. Neville then pushed the vertical panel inside the leg-space that Harry had seen move inwards slightly.

A small compartment was revealed. Neville pocketed several small items including a couple of wands and the box that contained Gryffindor’s ring.

They began to hear noises coming from outside.

“Thanks, Harry. I’m done,” said Neville, sounding more than a little relieved.

They moved away from the desk as Kingsley Shacklebolt entered through one of the blown out windows from the terrace. He was quickly followed by several Aurors who immediately secured the unconscious attackers.

“Kingsley, the four that attacked us in the greenhouses are still around somewhere.”

“Aren’t they still in the greenhouse?” asked Neville.

“No, I went there before coming back here. They had all got away.”

“If they didn’t get away before the grounds security was changed, there’s a good chance they are still around and hiding,” said Shacklebolt. “We’ll make a thorough search.”

“How come I was able to Apparate around the grounds?” asked Harry.

“Gran probably put you on the wards in case you needed to get away quickly,” said Neville quickly, bending down and picking up the largest piece of a shattered vase.

Kingsley nodded and moved away to talk to one of his men before Neville looked up.

Harry raised his eyebrows at him, suspecting that Mrs Longbottom had no time to change the security arrangements. Unlike Kingsley, Harry had the advantage of knowing full well the telltale signs that Neville was lying.

Neville shook his head slightly and Harry nodded to indicate he understood not to enquire about it while they could be overheard.

The Battle Standard

by Jardyn39

AN: Thanks for all your messages about the last Chapter being corrupted. Corrected now. Here’s the next Chapter a little early….

Chapter 5 – The Visitor

It took several hours before the Aurors had finished making their investigations and searching the grounds. Harry suspected that they might not have taken quite so long if the lunch provided by the house elves had been less of a feast. The table they set up stretched the full length of the rear terrace, from one side of the house to the other and heaved with delicious looking dishes that were replenished as soon as they were gone.

All the while Neville was becoming increasingly anxious about his grandmother, but Harry assured him that she would be looked after by Kreacher.

Finally, after they had temporarily boarded over the blown out windows, Harry took hold of Neville’s arm and they Apparated to the kitchen of Grimmauld Place.

“I really must protest!”

“Master instructed.”

“You have no right to keep me here! I insist upon being allowed to leave at once!”

“No, not until Master says.”

Harry and Neville looked at each other in utter confusion. Harry recognised one of the voices coming from upstairs as Kreacher, but he had no idea who the other male voice belonged to.

They hurried up from the Basement to find Kreacher guarding the front door and preventing a middle aged man in a red travelling cloak from leaving.

“Kreacher, what’s going on?” asked Harry. “Where is Mrs Longbottom?”

“Sir, are you this house elf’s Master?” asked the man indignantly.

“Um, yes, I am.”

“Then you are responsible for my kidnapping!”

“Sorry?”

“I was just leaving work when your house elf appeared before me, said his Master’s instructions had to be complied with and that there was no alternative but for me to come with him. I refused, of course. He then grabbed me and brought me here. House elf side-along Apparition indeed!”

“Master instructed,” repeated Kreacher.

“Kreacher, where is Mrs Longbottom?” asked Harry again.

“She is upstairs in the guest bedroom next to Miss Hermione’s room.”

“That’s second floor, two doors along,” called Harry as Neville launched himself up the stairs.

“Thanks, Harry,” Neville shouted back.

“Now,” said Harry. “Kreacher, can you please explain what is going on?”

Kreacher looked down at his feet and his ears drooped a little. It was the first time Kreacher had looked sorry for something.

“Master said Mrs Longbottom was not to leave the house.”

“Yes,” agreed Harry. “I did.”

“Mrs Longbottom had an episode after Master left. Kreacher thought she should go to the Hospital, but Master instructed.”

“How is she?” asked Harry with concern.

“She’s fine,” said the stranger. “It was just caused by having a little too much excitement. I’ve given her a mild sedative.”

“You are a Healer?”

“Yes. I’m a consultant at St. Mungos.”

“I see,” said Harry. “Well, I really must thank you for helping us and apologise for inconveniencing you.”

“I didn’t mind so much when I realised I was needed,” said the healer. “What I really objected to was being made to remain here all this time.”

“Kreacher?”

“Kreacher was worried that Mrs Longbottom would need help again.”

Harry nodded but the healer didn’t look at all impressed.

“I have given you repeated assurances that she will be perfectly fine after a good night’s rest.”

Harry smiled and held out his hand.

“I’m forgetting my manners. My name is Harry Potter.”

“Spunge. Barnaby Spunge,” said the healer, shaking Harry’s hand.

“Would you like some tea, Healer Spunge?”

“I would, but my wife will be growing worried by my absence. I should like to go unless you would like me to check upon Mrs Longbottom again?”

Harry looked up to see Neville descending the stairs, looking much happier than before.

“She’s sleeping now. I had a couple of words with her and she seems to be fine.”

“Neville, this is Healer Spunge.”

They shook hands and then Harry said, “This house is protected, so in order to leave I’ll need to actually take you outside. It would be best if you didn’t know what part of the country we are in right now.”

“I quite understand.”

“Can I drop you off at St Mungos?”

“That would be acceptable.”

*

It took Harry some time to check all of Kreacher’s hiding places when he returned to Grimmauld Place. He eventually found him in what he later thought was the first place he should have looked.

Harry sat down next to the hunched up elf and waited in silence.

This was not the first time they had sat together high up in the attic, although it was a little dustier now that Aunt Petunia was no longer there to continue her regime of manic house cleaning.

Kreacher stirred at last and raised his head.

“Master should punish Kreacher.”

“Kreacher, it was my fault. I ordered you to make sure Mrs Longbottom didn’t leave the house. You did the right thing in trying to get help for her. Bringing a Healer to her was a great idea.”

“Master thought Kreacher was wrong to keep him here.”

“Why did you?”

“Kreacher was afraid he would betray us. If he poisoned Mrs Longbottom, Kreacher would have been blamed so Master needed to see for himself that Kreacher wasn’t to blame.”

“I didn’t think of that,” admitted Harry. “I promise you, though, I would not have believed you were responsible if something did happen.

“I am pleased you grabbed someone going off duty, though. If we had kept him from seeing his patients for all those hours we might have got into trouble.”

“Kreacher only found out afterwards that the Healer had finished work. Kreacher just grabbed the first Healer he saw.”

Harry snorted.

“Well, don’t worry about it. By the time we parted he was quite okay with it. I don’t thinks he’s used to these kinds of things happening to him, actually.”

Harry reached into his robes and drew out a small card.

“Here,” said Harry, handing the card to Kreacher. “Healer Spunge gave us his card with his home address on it. He says we are welcome to call on him in the event of another emergency. He would be pressing charges rather than making that offer if he was that upset with us.”

Kreacher nodded and Harry smiled down at the house elf.

When he had finally said goodbye to Healer Spunge it was actually just outside his home. Spunge had insisted Harry come and meet his wife and he had the distinct impression that the healer was feeling more than a little exited about making a small contribution towards the fight against Voldemort and his followers.

Harry didn’t mind really. He knew he was the face wizarding people recognised as representing the resistance. Although the Ministry was constantly advertising its efforts in the press, the recent spate of arrests of so many senior figures had left the general wizarding public with little confidence in their abilities.

The Aurors, who were perhaps alone in responsible for the Ministry’s few successes under the disguised leadership of Miss Alice, was keeping a very low profile just recently.

This left The Chosen One alone for people to pin their hopes on.

“Come on,” suggested Harry. “Let’s go and keep Neville and the others company.”

“Others?”

“Yes, Hermione and Ron arrived back a little earlier.”

*

“Where’s Neville?” asked Harry as he and Kreacher entered the living room.

“He’s in the kitchen talking to Ginny. She found out about the attack from the Evening Prophet and Professor McGonagall let her call from her office fireplace.”

“How did they know Neville was here?”

“Where else would you bring them?” asked Hermione.

“Good point,” agreed Harry sitting down next to her.

Ron threw his copy of the Evening Prophet down and said, “There’s hardly any detail in this thing. So, Harry, what really happened?”

“What does the Prophet say?”

“Oh, just that the Aurors arrived in time to rescue Mrs Longbottom, Neville and their old gardener from several unknown attackers. We assumed the old gardener was supposed to be you, actually.”

“No,” Harry said with a laugh. “The gardener’s name is Jenkins and the fight was over before the Aurors arrived.”

“Neville only said you disabled four of them who attacked in the greenhouse and then brought his Gran here.”

“Yes, by the time I got back there were more of them and the fight had moved to the house. There wasn’t much to do, actually. Between Neville and Jenkins I think they could have taken care of things on their own.”

“Hardly, Harry,” said Neville as he came into the room. “I was pinned down behind that desk and poor Jenkins hardly ever hits what he aims at. It was a good job he was able to sit down as soon as he did too.”

“Is Jenkins the old gardener you told me about before, Neville?” asked Harry.

Neville laughed and shook his head no. He had told Harry of the household’s attempts to improve his defensive wand skills by attacking him at every opportunity. Neville had asked Harry to continue his defence lesions in a futile attempt to make them stop.

“No, Harry. That was Jenkins Senior. He would have joined in, I’m sure, but his Bath chair needs to be wheeled within firing range these days.”

Harry snorted.

*

“Hermione, you are not exactly being very rational about this, are you?”

“Even so, Harry. I’m just not comfortable.”

“Hermione, even if Mrs Longbottom wasn’t sedated, I hardly think she could care less that the bedroom next door, which she has no idea you sleep in sometimes, might be vacant tonight.”

“That is hardly the point, Harry.”

“No?”

“It’s just a little embarrassing.”

“I embarrass you now?”

“Well, not all the time, obviously. You are right this moment, though.”

Harry sighed and said, “Whatever makes you happy, Hermione.”

“I’m not exactly happy about this, you know? And you can stop laughing at me too!”

Harry tried, but her indignant expression just made it much harder for him to stop laughing.

“I’m sorry, Hermione,” he said, smiling and taking both her hands.

She drew herself close and whispered, “I’m so glad you weren’t hurt.”

“I know,” he said gently, kissing her forehead.

“Why ever would they attack Mrs Longbottom? I mean, I know she has never hidden her support for Dumbledore and you, but she’s hardly a threat, is she?”

“I don’t know why,” he admitted, “but I’ve an idea that Neville does. We’ll have to work on him in the morning.”

“Mm,” muttered Hermione sleepily.

“Changed your mind, yet?”

Hermione gave half a laugh and said, “No, not yet.”

“Did you find out anything more about that Gryffindor cloak?”

“No, I didn’t even get the change to go to the library today. I spent the entire time helping the Saporlux Flight get their robes sorted out.”

“The Saporlux Flight?”

“Yes, that’s the name of Ginny’s new Quidditch team. They wanted them to be fashionable as well as functional.”

“Weird name, though. Er, why to Quidditch robes have to be fashionable?”

“They don’t, except that as an all female team, they-”

“All female?” Harry interrupted.

“What’s wrong with that? You’ve played against all male teams, haven’t you?”

“Are they any good?”

“How should I know? Actually, I doubt if Ginny would have picked them unless they could play reasonably well.”

“True. I wonder if the ball gowns will slow them down that much in the air?”

Hermione burst out laughing.

“Harry!”

*

Much later, Harry lay wide awake on top of his bed. He had got up several times to pace around the room in the darkness. Now he lay still, feeling his joints and muscles ache with tiredness, wishing rather than expecting sleep to overcome him.

Hermione had let him detain her for a little longer than she intended, but he knew he would never prevail once her mind had been made up.

He thought back over the day, wondering even harder about the Gryffindor ring and how he might possibly come to wear it.

Harry suddenly grabbed his wand and almost yelled, “Lumos!”

Breathing heavily, he scanned the far side of the room. At the same time he groped for his glasses. Then he realised they were still on his face from the last time he had paced around the room.

Satisfied that he had imagined the movement in the shadows, he whispered, “Nox!”

Returning his wand to its usual place under his pillow, Harry muttered to himself, “Get a grip, will you? You’re getting as paranoid as Moody.”

“Moody,” breathed a low voice out of nowhere.

Harry started and promptly fell right off the bed. Desperately trying to right himself to retrieve his wand, Harry shouted, “Who’s there?”

“Calm down,” said the voice. “You won’t see me in bright light, so I shouldn’t bother with that wand. It fell down beside you, by the way.”

“What?” said Harry, feeling around until he found his wand. “Oh, er, thanks.”

“You are welcome.”

“Are you a ghost?”

“I’ve no idea. Perhaps. I’ve been unwell for some time, but I didn’t think I would die this soon. Still, one never knows, does one? I didn’t think I would return as a ghost, you know? I’m not that afraid to die. The journey onwards should be a new great adventure, after all.”

“Dumbledore?”

The voice chuckled and said, “No, although you flatter me. I can think of no-one else I’d rather be mistaken for.”

“Did you know him?”

“Yes, I had that honour. It was many years ago, though. Many years.”

“Why are you here?”

“A mutual friend sent me. He thought I could give you some useful advice.”

The voice seemed to move away and Harry peered over the bed he was still sitting beside. Over by the window, a ghost like figure was looking down into the square outside.

Harry got up and sat down on the bed.

“I can sort of see you now,” he said.

“Good,” said the ghost.

“Um, what advice do you have for me?” Harry asked uncertainly.

“To tell the truth, I’m not entirely sure I can advise you. You see, you may be the wrong person entirely.”

“Oh. Is there any way to tell? Perhaps you should start by telling me your name?”

“It really doesn’t matter. I mean, I’m here now. You are the only one I can tell and you are the only one who can listen. You are not obliged to hear me, of course. When I was your age I hardly ever listened to well intentioned advisers.”

“How old are you?”

“I will be seventy years old in July.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. He had guessed the man was between fifty and sixty. He looked a little portly, but he was tall enough for it not to notice. His close cropped hair made him look younger too, Harry realised.

The figure turned and Harry lost him again in the shadows.

“Um, what advice do you want to give?”

“Moody,” he said again. “I haven’t thought of him in years.”

“You knew Mad-Eye?”

“Of course I knew him,” the figure said shortly. “To be honest, though, I wondered if I didn’t get along better with Crouch Junior’s Moody.”

“Hang on, you knew Barty Crouch when he was pretending to be Alastor Moody?”

“Am I so difficult to recognise?”

Harry frowned as the figure reappeared by the closest window.

“Ah, well. Perhaps I am,” he said sadly, vanishing again. “I hardly know myself, any more.”

Harry looked around the room, wondering where he would appear next.

“I feel much weaker than I expected. I suppose I’ve no right to feel anything else; after all,” he added with a chuckle, “I’m not really here, am I?”

“If you say so,” said Harry. “Look, are you going to get to the point any time soon?”

“I’d forgotten the impatience of youth. Sit down on that bed and listen to my voice. This is going to come as something as a shock.”

Harry got up off the floor and sat down on the edge of the bed, wand in hand.

“I’m going to appear shortly, but bright light will still make me invisible.”

“Okay,” said Harry.

“I say, something of a shock, but you know? I do owe you. My life expectancy was halved by Voldemort, or so the Healers thought. It really wasn’t fair that you should be responsible for practically finishing me off.”

“What?”

“I’m not angry. How could I be? I will confess to being more than a bit put out, though. Still, all that was years ago, from my perspective. I see you are wearing my ring.”

“Your ring? No, this was Dumbledore’s.”

“And now you will think of it as yours, until your dying day.”

“No. No, this can’t be possible. You can’t be!”

“Calm yourself,” said the figure as he materialised at the end of the bed, sitting facing Harry in much the same pose as himself.

“You can’t be me.”

“Can’t I? Ask me anything. Something you have never told a living soul.”

“What did I scratch into the back of the bottom stair riser in my cupboard?”

“I didn’t actually scratch anything. I was too nervous that I’d get caught by Uncle Vernon, but what I wanted to scratch was Dudley smashed the window-”

“Not me,” finished Harry.

They were silent for a few moments.

“I suppose I should apologise for landing on you like that. I really had no idea what I was doing there,” said Harry.

“Actually, that may have been my fault. You see, or perhaps you won’t since I never have, you were probably summoned to balance the books.”

“Um, what?”

“It makes no sense to me, but since I’m here in your time, it was necessary for you to spend a while in my time.”

“No,” said Harry. “Hermione said it was impossible for anyone to travel into the future, because it hasn’t happened yet.”

“Yes, that’s true except you didn’t travel into the future. You just passed over into my time.”

“Your time?”

“Yes, we are not the same person. We have always lived in quite separate time lines. Yours happened to start a little earlier than mine. The fact that the time streams are different is why you appeared before I did.”

“I really don’t understand.”

“Perhaps we are not so different, then. Anyway, how all this happened isn’t important. I’ve had my time. You may not believe me, but I always tried to act for the best. I have regrets; who doesn’t? I listened to advisers who had their own agendas when I should not.”

“Why did you keep power when so many people were against you?”

“Well, I was by the end quite insulated from the views of most people. I only heard things through advisers. At the end, only Neville was man enough to tell me the truth; not that I ever gave him the appreciation he deserved.

“It is true that I stayed in office for far longer than I intended to. My chief problem was that the only people ready and willing to take over from me were wholly unsuitable.”

“Like Christopher, you mean.”

“Indeed. He did manage to poison me in the end, you know?”

“So, did he assume the office as he intended?”

“Oh, no. He died, um, unexpectedly.”

“Why did you take the Longbottom family ring?”

“It is not for me to say why I wore it; but I promise you that I did not take that ring by force. The ring was returned to the family,” he added, holding up his ring-less hands.

“How did you kill Voldemort?”

“I don’t like to talk about that; and neither will you. I won’t tell you because your Voldemort is probably far worse than mine ever was. Besides, in your timeline, perhaps you are destined to die at his hands?”

Harry nodded and asked, “So what did you want to tell me?”

“You already know. You’ve known from the moment you woke up back here.”

“That I mustn’t become you?”

“You are free to make choices; as was I. I didn’t have the advantage of seeing my possible future, though.”

“I keep thinking about that. I can’t help worrying then it was I crossed the line.”

“That isn’t what you should be worrying about. Believe me, I didn’t need to be encouraged to step; I positively took a running jump at it. You are not me, remember. I know you are made of stronger stuff than I.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“Am I? I can assure you that I would not have just nodded and accepted my refusal to tell how Voldemort was defeated.”

Harry sighed deeply.

“What House were you in at Hogwarts?”

“We were in Gryffindor. You’re going to tell me to remember the Gryffindor traits?”

“No. You were in Gryffindor.”

Harry’s head shot up.

“You were in Slytherin?”

“Spot on! I did rather well, too!”

“How did you get on with Malfoy?”

“He vanished at the end of Second Year. Don’t worry, they never found the body.”

“So who let the Death Eaters into the school the night that Dumbledore was murdered?”

“Malfoy? That spineless wimp couldn’t have done that!”

“He did.”

“Merlin! Well, it was someone altogether less surprising in my time.”

“Who?”

“I shouldn’t say. For all I know he could be your best friend!”

Harry gulped loudly, but then frowned.

“Hang on,” he said slowly. “If you were in Slytherin, why were you on Dumbledore’s side?”

“Remember, Dumbledore wasn’t at all anti-Slytherin. He knew that all the Houses had good and bad apples amongst them.”

“True,” agreed Harry. “Was Snape still head of Slytherin?”

“Yes,” the elder Harry said coldly. “I’m afraid we didn’t get on at all. I killed him the night Dumbledore was murdered.”

“I wish I had been able to,” said Harry bitterly. “He seems to have vanished along with Malfoy.”

“Well, I can’t claim to have won that particular duel by superior skills. Snape always criticised me for not hiding my emotions. I’m sure he was using Legilimency to predict my moves.”

“Um, so how did you beat him?”

“I shot him in the back while he was running away. I decided he didn’t deserve anything better.”

“I couldn’t do anything like that.”

“No?”

“No.”

“So, your Snape deserved better?”

“No, he didn’t,” Harry admitted softly.

They both sat in silence for a long moment before Harry continued.

“I suppose that is what has bothered me the most all these months. You were more than capable of killing. I’m not sure I am.”

“Don’t worry about that. You will do what you need to should the need arise, same as I. Please don’t think I took to killing lightly. The first time it happened I was a complete wreck after.”

“How old were you?”

“I don’t remember. It was in my Fourth Year, I think. Yes, it had to be because Moody worked me over. I wanted to throw in the towel, but he insisted I had to continue with the competition.”

“The Tri-Wizard Cup. So, how did it happen?”

“Does it really matter?”

Harry shrugged and said, “I suppose not. So, you got together with Hermione?”

“Yes, just before the final battle, although we didn’t know it would be the final one, obviously. She tended me during my recovery and it just kind of happened. I’ve still no idea what she saw in me, to be honest. I was always too shy to speak to her before.”

Harry smiled warmly at the ghost who appeared to become a little more solid as he remembered happier times.

“The brief years that followed were the happiest of my life. Then I was persuaded back into the wizarding world, and that is when it started to go wrong. Ironically, it was Hermione who finally persuaded me to run for office.”

“It must have been difficult when she lead the fight against you.”

“Oh, well it was hardly unexpected. I was just thankful that we were reconciled before the end. We buried her at Hogwarts.”

“But she was leading Dumbledore’s Army against you.”

“No, my dear Hermione died years ago,” said the ghost sadly, fading again. “It was the effects of a spell she’d been hit with a long time before. She was fine until she was hit again with the same hex again. Unfortunately, the treatment wasn’t effective the second time.”

“Christopher Longbottom said Lady Potter was leading the attack.”

“Well you can’t trust Gryffindors, can you?” replied the old Slytherin with a grin. “Actually, that would be my second wife. I remarried, much to my children’s disapproval.”

“Oh. How many children did you have?”

“Three by Hermione and two adopted. They were all Gryffindors, by the way. That’s why my battle flags all fly the Gryffindor lion.”

They smiled identical smiles that faded in unison.

“So, what am I to do?”

“Firstly, you are going to get help. Before Dumbledore was killed, he instructed Ollivander to instruct me in the Dark Arts. I say instruct, but he really intended to temper some of my enthusiasm.”

“I know what you mean,” admitted Harry. “The Kemmynadow book is very addictive and difficult to control.”

The ghost raised his eyebrows.

“Dumbledore didn’t bequeath the Kemmynadow book to me. He considered me to be a borderline Dark Wizard at best.”

“I’m beginning to wonder if he wasn’t correct.”

“No, he was right. He did enough to put me back in the right direction. I’ve never surrendered to the Dark, nor have I ever abandoned the weak or frightened. The Civil War was never about that.”

Harry heard the anger in the ghost’s voice and nodded.

“My Dumbledore asked Ollivander to do something as well. The problem is we’re not entirely clear what exactly that request was. Ollivander kept trying to provoke me for a long time but now he’s just vanished.”

“No contact at all?”

“Well, almost no contact. He did get a message to Ron but he didn’t turn up at the meeting place.”

“Ron’s alive?”

“You were still friends with Ron? Even though you were in Slytherin?”

“Oh, yes. We met on our very first train journey, and we remained great friends even after the sorting.”

“That’s good to know.”

“I never did know Ollivander’s true loyalties. He certainly wasn’t shy about keeping company with the darkest Wizards. Even Voldemort.”

“Same here.”

The senior Harry closed his eyes and faded slightly for a moment.

“I think my time is almost over. I can feel myself being pulled back.”

“Where was that Village? The one I, er, visited.”

“Why do you want to know that?”

“I, um. To tell the truth, I’ve no idea. I just wondered if it existed here, in my time.”

“Well, the buildings originally came from an abandoned shipbuilding village. It was such a shame to waste them, so they were relocated to Norfolk.”

“Norfolk? Thanks. Where was the village originally?”

“Cumbria. The village was called Torvais after the founder. He was a shipwright and his family originally came over as part of the Norman Conquest. Did you see the two bay windows opposite each other?”

“I do vaguely remember, yes.”

“One of them was originally the foreman’s lookout from where they could oversee the workings below. Hermione had her office in there so I transfigured another directly opposite on the other side of the street. She insisted we work apart or we’d never get anything done at all. Poor Hedwig did nothing but fly back and forth delivering love notes.”

Harry snorted just as there was a soft rap on the bedroom door.

“Harry?”

“Hermione is here?”

“Um, yes she is.”

“Are you okay, Harry?”

“I’m fine, Hermione,” Harry said raising his voice.

“Ask her in, will you,” asked the ghost faintly. “I’d like to see her just once more.”

“Um, Hermione?” asked Harry.

Before he could finish the door was wide open and light streamed into the room from the corridor outside. The ghost faded from view.

Hermione stepped forward, wand in hand, looking urgently around the door.

“Harry?”

“It’s okay, Hermione.”

“I heard you talking. I was worried you had an uninvited guest.”

“I did, actually,” said Harry with a smile.

There was a soft rasping sound and Harry felt a warm breeze flow past him. Hermione’s hair was gently wafted for a moment.

“I’m ready now,” said a faint invisible voice.

“Good luck,” said Harry under his breath.

“Who are you talking to, Harry?” demanded Hermione, sounding more than a little concerned now.

“I think he’s gone now. Close the door and come over here. I’ll try to tell you all about it.”

The Battle Standard

by Jardyn39

Chapter 6 – Message Revealed

Harry walked into the kitchen the next morning to find Mrs Longbottom and Kreacher sat at the table.

“Morning,” said Harry, yawning widely and bumping into the back of an empty chair. He generally used the chairs to guide him over to the stove rather than look too carefully where he was going first thing in the mornings.

Harry had been surprised to find himself quite sleepy after his elder self had gone.

He poured himself a cup of coffee and asked sleepily, “Anyone else?”

“No, thank you,” said Mrs Longbottom crisply, and Harry realised instantly that either she didn’t approve of sleepiness in the mornings or something else didn’t meet with her approval.

Harry made an effort to open his eyes properly and came back over to the breakfast table and sat down next to Kreacher.

“I’d like to thank you for your hospitality, Harry.”

“Not at all, Mrs Longbottom. You’re welcome any time. How are you feeling now?”

“I’m perfectly fine, thank you. I had a note from Minerva McGonagall this morning. She has kindly invited me to stay at Hogwarts as a guest. It will be a few days before the house is properly repaired.”

“That’s nice of her. Neville will be pleased.”

“Indeed. I must admit I’m looking forward to visiting too. It has been many years since I’ve been up there.”

“Um, Mrs Longbottom? Is anything wrong?” asked Harry tentatively.

Mrs Longbottom took a sharp intake of breath and for the briefest moments Harry was tempted to just run for it.

“This is your house, Harry. It is not for me to criticise.”

“Er,” said Harry.

“I know I must seem old and out of touch with modern ways,” she continued imperiously, “but I cannot say I approve of some of your domestic arrangements.”

Harry felt his face redden as his thoughts immediately turned to Hermione upstairs.

“Well,” blustered Harry.

“Once you start down the slippery slope, Harry, you’ll find it very difficult to get back up to respectability.”

“Actually, I quite like,” began Harry before catching himself.

“House elves should not be encouraged to sit at the meal table.”

“What?” said Harry, now quite confused.

“Kreacher didn’t want to sit next to the old bag,” interrupted the elf. “Master ordered Kreacher to sit at the table during meals.”

“Well, really!”

“Hang on!” said Harry with a raised voice. “Kreacher, you will not call Mrs Longbottom an old bag. Please apologise to her now.”

Harry could hear Kreacher kicking his chair like an angry child before he mumbled, “Kreacher is sorry he can’t call Mrs Longbottom an old bag again.”

Harry rolled his eyes and then said firmly, “I’m sorry for the name calling, Mrs Longbottom, but that’s as far as my apology extends.

“Kreacher has suffered enough at the hands of wizards and witches who thought nothing of mistreating him. I mistreated him too, unfortunately, but I have made it clear that while I am his Master, Kreacher will no longer be treated like a slave. As far as I’m concerned he’s family and as such will be extended every courtesy. I know we’ve got a long way to go, but that doesn’t mean it won’t be worthwhile in the long term.”

Mrs Longbottom stared for a long moment into Harry’s fiercely determined eyes.

“I see,” she said finally. “Of course, this house elf’s emancipation doesn’t quite extend to freedom, though, does it?”

Kreacher jumped down off his chair and began stamping his bare feet onto the hard stone floor.

“That is a private matter between Kreacher and me,” said Harry coldly. “It is a family matter. Kreacher, don’t hurt yourself.”

Kreacher stopped in mid-stomp and almost fell over.

“You do realise that the Ministry can intervene in extreme cases, don’t you?”

“You might like to remember that it was Kreacher who showed initiative and brought you a Healer when you needed one.”

“I did not require the services of a Healer. Of course, that doesn’t mean I didn’t appreciate your efforts.”

“Kreacher’s efforts. You have him to thank, not me.”

Mrs Longbottom looked down at Kreacher and he immediately shrank away as if fearful that she would actually condescend to thank him.

“The Neville already made Kreacher listen,” he said quickly.

At Neville’s insistence, Harry had coaxed Kreacher out of his den so that Neville could thank him properly before he left.

“All I would say is that the Ministry will intervene if it feels there is evidence that you are not adopting an appropriately responsible level of control.”

Harry drew a deep breath to calm himself just as Hermione breezed into the room.

“Morning!” she said brightly. “How are you feeling, Mrs Longbottom?” she asked after pecking Harry on his cheek. If she noticed any tension in the room she didn’t show it.

*

“Oh, calm down, Harry,” said Hermione dismissively. “You need to make allowances. If it hadn’t been Kreacher it would have been something else. I had a lecture on how I should tie my hair up before she left.”

Harry slumped down on the settee next to Hermione.

“I am glad she’s finally gone, though.”

“She was only here for a few hours, Harry.”

“I’m still glad.”

“Me too,” agreed Hermione quietly. “What?” she asked seeing the smile grow on Harry’s face.

“I just thought. What if she finds out Ginny has been going around calling herself Mrs Longbottom?”

Hermione snorted with laughter.

“Hermione, where do you think Torvais might be?”

“Well, it doesn’t sound like it is in Norfolk.”

“Why not?”

“Harry, Norfolk is practically flat. You said there were hills in your vision.”

“Yes, there were. Are you sure about Norfolk being flat?”

“Harry, most of the land was reclaimed from the sea years ago.”

“Oh. What about Cumbria then?”

“Quite hilly, I believe.”

“Could we find it there, then?”

“We can but try,” said Hermione, folding her book. She lent across and kissed him tenderly.

“What was that for?”

“I’m afraid I was eavesdropping outside the kitchen earlier this morning. I was very touched by what you said about Kreacher, Harry.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll have changed my mind after he’s finished the laundry. You know he attached three extra sleeves to each of my shirts last week? I mean, why not at least an even number that I could tie out of the way?”

“It shows he cares, that’s all.”

“I wonder what he’ll be caring enough to do this time?”

“Well, from the clothes line in the kitchen, I’d say ten foot wide collars, actually.”

Hermione got half-way to her feet and then froze.

“Good grief!” she exclaimed.

“What is it, Hermione?”

“I’ve just realised something,” she said with a laugh.

“What?”

Still chuckling, she held her wand up and said, “Accio cloak!”

A short moment later the travelling cloak Harry had brought back flew through the open door and into Hermione’s outstretched arms. The cloak was immediately followed by Kreacher who had obviously chased the cloak all the way from the basement laundry basket.

“Sorry, Kreacher,” said Hermione as soon as she realised what she’d done.

Kreacher managed to extend her a dark look before dramatically collapsing down onto the carpet in front of them both.

Harry rose, concerned about the house elf but soon realised that although he was breathing heavily he was also doing a healthy amount of whispered cursing.

“I just wanted to show Harry something,” explained Hermione contritely. “Here, you can see as well,” she added hopefully, laying out the cloak on the carpet for them all to see.

Kreacher made a bit of a meal of heroically dragging himself over to the hem of the cloak.

“Look at the Gryffindor motif,” said Hermione.

“Um,” said Harry, wondering what he was supposed to be looking at.

“I thought this was just a stylised lion,” said Hermione, now beaming at them both.

Harry looked over to Kreacher who was now kneeling and taking an interest almost despite himself. Kreacher looked back at him and shrugged.

“Miss Hermione must be seeing things, Master.”

Hermione laughed and said, “Well, yes! I obviously am! Look again at the lion’s forelegs. They are depicted more like arms, though, aren’t they?”

“Sure, but most Gryffindor flags are like that.”

“Oh, no. They’re not like these. The other thing to notice is the belt. Gryffindor lions don’t have belts like that, do they?”

“True,” said Harry, tilting his head sideways.

The belt had a rather strange buckle arrangement. Indeed, it hardly looked like a buckle at all.

“Does that look like a buckle to you?”

“No, it isn’t a buckle,” Hermione said at once. “Those aren’t shadows behind the forearms, either.”

Harry frowned and said, “I still don’t get it.”

“Shirt sleeves, Harry! The lion is wearing a shirt with extra sleeves. Look,” she said, pointing as she spoke. “Two of the sleeves and hanging down loose and two are ties together around the front. They must be Kreacher’s sleeves!”

Harry grinned seeing it at last.

“It looks like I may actually manage to persuade you to at least give me an even number of shirt sleeves, Kreacher.”

“Master can but hope,” said the elf. “What is that?” he asked pointing down at the motif.

Harry’s face fell.

It was another sleeve only half hidden, making an odd number.

*

Harry pulled his hand away from the Kemmynadow book, feeling the book resisting breaking the magical link that enabled the volume to push the knowledge of dark magic into him. He closed the two halves and watched as the book instantly sealed itself shut.

He sat in silence for a few minutes, contemplating the spells he had looked up.

Eventually, he looked around the circular room. The seven fireplaces surrounding the Room of Requirement were cold and empty. He nearly always put out the fires when he didn’t wish to be disturbed here.

The room was now a lot more cluttered since they first began to use it as the central repository of all their knowledge of the hunt for the Horcruxes. Hermione’s research books now numbered hundreds but the Room generally only provided a few dozen at a time depending upon her needs.

On the shelf opposite him, the black marble base that belonged to Ravenclaw glistened in the lantern-light. He wondered if the Golden Rowena statuette was still unhappy with her fake replacement.

They hadn’t attempted to destroy the Horcrux they suspected was inside yet. Hermione was particularly nervous about what might happen if they tried, mindful of the injury Dumbledore suffered. Harry had agreed that while Horcruxes remained missing, they might as well continue to research how to destroy them.

By now, Harry was becoming increasingly uncomfortable that their search had become interrupted.

He still hadn’t made his way to Godric’s Hollow and visit his parents’ grave.

Harry sighed deeply and resolved to visit Godric’s Hollow as soon as he was able. If nothing else, he realised, it might inspire them as to where to search next.

Harry got up and returned the Kemmynadow book to its place on one of the heavy shelves. He was about to turn and Floo back to Grimmauld Place, when he realised that Dumbledore’s standard spell book was slightly out of place.

He reached up and was about to push it back half an inch or so further onto the shelf when the heavy book slid outwards towards his fingers.

Accepting the invitation, Harry pulled the book down off the shelf and took it over to the table in the middle of the room.

Harry sat and stroked his fingers fondly over the cover. He hadn’t used this book very much at all since Dumbledore had bequeathed it to him. Indeed, it was Hermione who preferred to use it since she did not approve at all of the Dark Magic the Kemmynadow was steeped in.

Harry, though, found the Standard spell book a little heavy going. Unlike the Kemmynadow, he couldn’t learn the spells just by resting an open palm on the pages.

He opened the book, remembering that when Fred and George had handed him the book he had seen a dedication at the beginning. Unfortunately it was blank when he looked a second time.

The parchment on the inside of the front cover was completely blank as before.

Harry smiled sadly to himself, remembering his much missed Headmaster before absently placing his hand on the pages.

Instantly, writing began to appear on the open pages, penned in Dumbledore’s distinctive handwriting.

“Harry,

“This message is charmed to reveal itself when you have learnt a little beyond the school syllabus. I have no way of knowing if you taught yourself using the Kemmynadow or some other means, but hopefully my confidence that you will find balance will be justified.

“My wish is that you should now seek out Alastor Moody and ask for his help. I instructed him to wait until you approached him. He has knowledge and skills that I believe will help you.”

Harry frowned a little upon reading this.

“Alastor may not be your first choice as a tutor. I suspect you regard him as a little too old and someone who has never shown you much support.”

Harry found himself nodding to himself. The genuine Moody had been knocked out quickly at the Department of Mysteries fight and Moody’s comments that Harry had overheard at St Mungos had hardly endeared him to Harry.

“To be entirely candid,” continued the writing, “Alastor was not my first choice to impart this knowledge. I originally charged Ollivander with this duty, but I am no longer confident that he will fulfil his promise. Indeed, I am a little concerned what he will do with regard to you.

“I digress. When Moody is satisfied you have advanced sufficiently, you are to revisit Godric’s Hollow. I’m sure you have been there before now, but I believe you will be receptive to a new perspective once you are prepared.

“Later today I will deliver this book into the care and trust of Fred and George Weasley. As for you, Harry, touch this page with your wand to permanently destroy these words. The book will remain intact.”

The note was signed, “Yours, truly, Albus Dumbledore.”

Harry drew out his wand but hesitated for a moment, re-reading the note one last time.

*

“What is it, Harry?” asked Hermione the moment he stepped out of the fireplace.

“Nothing,” he said quickly, but decided he ought to say something more when he caught her narrowed eyes.

“I read another message from Dumbledore, that’s all.”

“Really? Where did you get it from? Do you have it?”

“It was inside the cover of his spell-book, Hermione. The message said to destroy it afterwards.”

“You destroyed the book?” asked Hermione in alarm. “Oh, but Harry, I haven’t finished learning all the spells yet!”

Harry smiled and said, “I only destroyed the note, Hermione. The book is fine.”

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief before Harry guided her over to the table where Ron was already seated.

“Come on, I’ll tell you about it while we have some tea.”

*

It had taken them some time to agree on a plan to rescue Pansy from Miss Alice. They had decided early on that they shouldn’t involve anyone else to make sure news of their plans wouldn’t leak out. After several days, Harry and Hermione finally presented their proposals to Ron.

“Maybe I’m missing something here,” said an exasperated sounding Ron, “but what is the good of knowing where she’s being kept if the only way in is through an area guarded twenty-four hours a day. Even if we were able to Apparate in and disable them all, that’s only the first chamber and there are wards preventing Apparition from then onwards.”

“No, Ron,” said Hermione patiently, “that first chamber is the only entrance Wizards can use.”

“So, what am I then?”

“Ron,” Harry interjected before their argument got out of hand, “Hermione means we are going to use one of the Muggle entrances. The problem isn’t really how we get in, so much as how we get safely out again afterwards. The chamber we Apparated into is just part of the London underground bunker. I’m sure of it.”

“No,” interrupted Ron. “That bunker was on the other side of the River.”

“The entrance we used before was on the other side of the Thames but the tunnels stretch for miles,” added Hermione.

“Yes,” agreed Harry. “Kingsley told me once that their most secure cells are ones under water because a lot of wizard have trouble performing advanced magic in the vicinity of a large volume of water. It dampens the magic, or something. I’m sure the cell block is under the river.”

“Yes, and if the prisoners are kept disoriented,” said Hermione, “it’s probably very difficult for them to think about Disapparating because they’d be afraid of Apparating under the surface and drowning in the fast currents.”

Ron shook his head doubtfully.

“That wouldn’t keep them. There has to be something more.”

“Yes, but remember how clever Miss Alice is. She told me she once captured two wizards from the Ministry of Magic. That’s how she met Dumbledore. She said he wasn’t fooled for a moment, but the two wizards she caught were completely taken in by the trick.”

“How did she do it?”

“She didn’t say.”

“Great,” said Ron dryly. “Well, somehow we’ll have to get through the Muggle security checkpoints. I suppose you expect me to train you so you’ll both pass off as Muggles, don’t you? Good job I paid attention in my Muggle Studies classes!”

Harry and Hermione looked at each other before they both burst into laughter and nodded.

*

Harry finished counting to ten and said as calmly as he could, “Ron, we can’t go until you are quiet. What’s the point of having an invisibility cloak if you are going to give us away by muttering the whole time?”

“Who’s muttering?” muttered Ron bitterly. “Would it have killed you to tell me we were going to Portkey there?”

“Ron, please,” pleaded Hermione.

“I’ve wasted days revising about eklectric switches and all sorts.”

“No, Ron, you barely did a thing. Even so, you’ll need to be alert. This is a Muggle installation and the more you remember the better.”

“Yeah, well your instructions pretty much covered everything, didn’t they, Hermione?” replied Ron bitterly before adding in a high pitched imitation of Hermione saying, “Don’t touch anything, Ron!”

Harry heard a faint sizzling sound followed by a yelp of pain from Ron.

Harry rolled his eyes and whispered, “Portus!”

The electric blue glow momentarily lit up the entire room despite Harry still being under his invisibility cloak. Both Ron and Hermione immediately became quiet.

“Um, Harry? If you are still here we promise to be quiet,” said Ron. “Harry?”

Harry lifted his cloak so they could see him.

“I’ll hold you to that promise,” he said unsmiling and offering the Portkey pencil for them both to touch.

The Battle Standard

by Jardyn39

Chapter 7 – Rescue

They landed in complete darkness. As planned, Ron and Hermione extricated themselves out from under Harry’s cloak wearing their own invisibility cloaks from their Auror kits provided by Kingsley. That way they all remained invisible.

Harry groped around until he found a door handle. By the time he found it his eyes had become a little more accustomed to the darkness and he could see faint light around the doorframe.

He listened intently at the door for a few moments before whispering, “I think it’s clear. I’m going to try the door.”

Harry tried to turn the handle but found the door was locked.

“Alohomora!”

The lock clicked open and Harry opened the door slightly. Outside he could see a long corridor. Satisfied no-one was coming, he quickly opened the door and they hurried out into the light.

After locking the door and noting that the sign on the door confirmed they had arrived at the correct storeroom, Harry whispered, “We go right. This is the corridor Hammond met me and Careem in. There is a lift lobby at the end of the corridor and some stairs off to the left. We’d better not chance using the lift.”

They had almost got to the end of the corridor when the pair of door burst open and a uniformed Corporal marched quickly down the centre.

Harry flattened himself against the wall and heard dull thumps of Ron and Hermione doing the same. He hardly dared breathe.

The Corporal stopped and turned. All he could see was an empty corridor. He gave himself half a shrug and continued on his way.

“That was close,” whispered Ron. “He almost barged right into me.”

“Come on,” whispered Harry and he hurried towards the stairs. Before he pushed the door open, he whispered, “Remember, these stairs are not often used, so there are bound to be listening devices. Try not to make a noise.”

They entered and the cooler air immediately told Harry he was right about the stairs not being used very often.

The three of them descended without incident five levels. Then the stair continued on downwards but there were no exits and the air began to smell stale and moist.

Finally, they reached the bottom. The lowest landing was a pool of still water.

Harry looked around and noted the camera. There was no red light on, but he was sure it was fully operational. It also seemed to be pointing down at the water rather than at the stair.

Then he realised that the camera was trained to pick up disturbances in the water. If they walked through the shallow pool, they would be detected even with invisibility cloaks.

Harry reached out until he found both Ron and Hermione and pushed both of them over towards the raking balustrade.

He then whispered in each of their ears, “We mustn’t disturb the water. Climb over the balustrade and walk around the skirting to the door. I’ll go first.”

They each nodded to indicate their understanding.

Harry climbed over the balustrade and lowered himself down until he felt his toes meet the top of a kerb. He knew the water had been placed there deliberately, and guessed that it would need some form of waterproof tanking to contain the water.

Fortunately, although the kerb was only three inches or so wide, it was more than sufficient for him to make his way gingerly around towards the door using first the balustrading and then the low half landing ceiling to balance himself.

Finally he got to the door.

It took him a while to find the alarm break point in the poor light, but a brief stupefying spell would prevent the switch from activating the alarms.

Harry silently thanked Bateman for his thorough teaching of Muggle security systems and was about to open the door when a pang of doubt hit him.

If Bateman had designed the security around here, he was bound to include more security than Harry knew how to detect and disable.

Deciding it was too late anyway, Harry opened the door and stepped out into the poorly lit service corridor. The concrete floor was damp and they could hear dripping water.

“We must be under the river,” said Ron.

“Shh,” said Hermione at once.

“No, it’s probably okay to talk here,” said Harry. “There is noise from the dripping water.”

“Unless that’s just a sound recording to make us think that,” replied Hermione waspishly.

“Come on,” said Harry, knowing she might well be right. “Let’s hurry. My guess is that the cell block won’t be too far away from the end of this duct or whatever it is.”

They ran down the corridor, occasionally ducking under steam pipes and cable trays that mostly ran down the sides of the corridor but sometimes crossed it.

“Harry, what’s that noise?”

“I don’t know,” said Harry, listening to the low constant rumbling sound that was getting louder as they approached the end of the corridor. “Let’s catch our breaths before we go on.”

“We should dry the cloaks too,” suggested Hermione between heavy breaths.

“Good idea,” agreed Harry. “The wet hems might show up on the cameras.”

*

As soon as they opened the last door, the noise hit them. The stale air was fiercely hot and there was a strong smell of oil.

They were in a wide lobby. To their immediate right were two large diesel engines. One was driving a long shiny metal shaft that was pointed down to the bottom of the opposing wall. The other engine was driving a belt which in turn appeared to be driving a series of bellows and noise making instruments.

The thing that caught Harry’s eye, though, was the immense revolving wall opposite them.

“Brilliant!” cried Hermione from somewhere to his right. “Don’t you see? She’s built the entire cell block on a rotating table. The inmates must be so dizzy it’ll be impossible for them to Apparate out!”

“Why all the noise?”

“To add to the effect, I’d imagine!”

“What if we become disorientated too?” said Harry as an open doorway flashed past them in the revolving wall.

“Well, we’ll just have to come back here first. I imagine there is another entrance too on the other side. It’s probably too noisy to guard on this side. They have to rely on the cameras behind us.”

Harry nodded from under his invisibility cloak.

“Do you think we can all jump through the door opening at once?” he asked.

“Yeah,” replied Ron. “It isn’t that fast.”

“It looks fast enough to me,” said Hermione. “I’d better follow a revolution after.”

“No, Hermione,” said Harry firmly. “We don’t know there isn’t more than one door we are seeing. In fact, I’m sure we are supposed to get split up here.”

Harry reached out until he found Hermione and then gently pulled her over to the moving wall.

The doorway appeared again almost at once. Harry grabbed Hermione somewhere around her middle and launched them both into the opening.

They landed heavily onto the hard vinyl covered floor. Ron landed on top of them both almost at once.

“Come on, let’s go,” said Harry, getting to his feet and immediately felt the disorienting effects of being inside a rotating cell block. He steadied himself against the nearest wall and felt Hermione bump into him as she attempted to do the same.

“I think I’m going the throw up,” said Ron.

“You’ll get used to it, Ron,” Hermione said encouragingly. “It’s just like sea sickness.”

She sounded like she was desperately trying not to be sick herself.

Harry grabbed her hand and began to lead the way down the brightly lit corridor.

“Got Ron?”

“Yes, I’m here.”

“Good. Let’s go.”

They continued unsteadily down the corridor and almost immediately came to a series of metal cell doors that had been staggered so that each faced a blank wall opposite. Presumably this was to prevent the inmates from communicating with each other.

Each door had a substantial looking lock and a closed hatch through which food could be passed. Harry looked in through the spy-hole and found the cell was empty.

They moved on to the next and Harry saw an elderly wizard he didn’t recognise hunched up on his cot and holding his hands over his face. He must have realised someone was at the door because he immediately looked up.

Harry started and pulled back, forgetting for a moment that he was invisible.

The old man made no attempt to call out or rise from the cot. Harry looked into his eyes and thought how incredibly tired he looked.

Harry pulled the others along to the next cell but they found it was empty but clearly occupied. The door was wide open.

“We should hurry,” whispered Hermione urgently, voicing Harry’s own thoughts.

“Yes, the guards could be along any moment.”

“I can’t stand much more of this damn spinning,” complained Ron quietly. “That noise is beginning to get to me too.”

“Mm,” agreed Hermione.

Harry, though, was actually beginning to feel a little better. He was no longer quite as dizzy as he had been; something he put down to his experience of recovering from low dives on his Firebolt.

They turned a corner and found there was a kind of offset crossroads. Harry guessed they were near the middle of the rotating cellblock now.

“Which way?” whispered Hermione.

Harry paused, standing at the centre of the crossroads and considered each of the three choices of direction before them.

He was about to choose one at random, when he spotted faint drag marks on the polished floor.

“This way,” he said at once.

Harry was sure the floor marks were of someone trying to resist being taken along the corridor. He was only guessing, but somehow he was sure that Pansy would put up more than just a little struggle.

He went straight down to the very end of the corridor, passing about half a dozen cell doors. Tucked in a holder next to the door was a card with, “Parkinson,” written in large handwritten lettering.

Harry looked in through the open hatch.

For a moment he was sure the cell was empty, but he couldn’t understand why the door was locked.

“Pansy?” he whispered.

Instantly an arm launched itself through the hatch and grabbed. Harry ducked at once and she only grasped the air.

“Bugger!” came a frustrated cry from behind the door.

“Pansy, be quiet or we’ll leave you in there,” whispered Harry.

“Who’s there?”

“Never mind that now. We’ve come to help you get away from here, but if you put any of us at risk I’ll stun you and raise the alarm.”

“Potter?”

“Are you going to behave?”

“Probably not,” came the answer.

“Last chance, Pansy,” warned Harry patiently.

“Oh, alright. I promise.”

“We’re under invisibility cloaks. Stand back while I unlock the door.”

“It won’t work. One of the Aurors tried to perform magic down here a few days ago. He just couldn’t do it.”

Harry pointed his wand at the lock and thought, “Alohomora!”

The lock clicked open. Harry pushed on the door but realised Pansy was holding it closed.

“Not bad, Potter,” said Pansy, “but there is a Muggle alarm on the door. See that switch plate next to the door?”

Harry stopped pushing and looked.

“Yes, there is a key switch, a red button and a green button.”

“You need to turn the key-switch to the off position.”

Harry gave a soft groan of frustration. The key switch had four positions, and his unlocking skills were not good enough to be sure that the key turned only the quarter-turn necessary. This was actually a clever but simple device to frustrate a magical rescue.

He was just wondering where they could get a key from when they heard Hermione whisper gently, “Vicus Verto!”

“Nice one,” said Harry, seeing the indicator turn.

“Stop looking so smug, Hermione,” ordered Ron, who couldn’t see her face at all thanks to her invisibility cloak.

Harry began to push the door open but had barely got it a foot wide before Pansy lifted up his cloak and dived underneath. He pulled the heavy door closed again and Hermione turned the key-switch back to the previous position.

“This is cosy,” said Pansy mischievously, snaking her arms around his middle.

Harry smiled despite himself. Pansy looked incredibly tired and clearly hadn’t washed for several days.

Pansy suddenly blushed and looked down, nervously trying to push her hair behind an ear. He had never seen Pansy do anything like that, and he wondered at first if it was part of an act. Then he found he was unsure.

Harry seemed to sense Hermione’s impatience to get on and he looked up and down the corridor again.

“Let’s go,” Harry said gently.

“My wand?” asked Pansy.

“No time. We’ve been lucky up to now, but we shouldn’t push it. What’s wrong with your hand?”

“Nothing,” she said at once, lowering both hands out of his view.

“Okay,” said Harry to them all. “I’ll lead us out the way we came. Pansy, I want you to grab my shirt so you keep up. Hermione, grab the cloak so you know where we are. Ron, do the same with Hermione.”

Soon they were moving back along the corridor but when they got to the crossroads they began to hear activity. Someone was being escorted back to their cell.

“Quiet,” warned Harry, pushing Pansy back against the wall so that the centre of the corridor was kept clear.

He knew that she would think the escape was nothing but a ruse. As such, she had nothing to lose by grabbing the cloak and possibly a wand for herself, so she might make her own escape.

Harry held onto the front of his cloak with a secure fist, but was surprised to find Pansy perfectly placid. She was resting her head against his back and he could feel her warm steady but shallow breaths on the back of his neck.

Two huge looking escorts dragged their prisoner back to his cell. The inmate had a loose hood over his head and he had been manacled by his hands and feet.

They went down the corridor they needed to return down.

Harry knew he was taking a chance, but he reasoned the escorts would go into the cell with the prisoner.

The random noises fell silent, and all they could hear was the rumbling noise of the turntable mechanism. Harry froze, afraid they had been detected, but soon after the distracting noises began again only much softer than before. He assumed they varied the volume and pattern of the noises to maintain the disorientation effects.

Harry led the way along the corridor, walking as fast as he dared. The pitiful groans coming from the prisoner were echoing around sufficiently to hide any noise they were making now.

He was concerned to see they were following a trail of fresh tiny blood spots and smears on the floor.

Harry found he had timed it perfectly. The moment the three entered the cell they dashed past and almost ran to the exit.

“Wait!” whispered Hermione urgently.

Harry had been just about to jump out into the lobby.

“We must jump into the right one. I’m sure she would have made them look similar.”

“True,” agreed Harry as another lobby flashed past. “But which one is it? I’ve counted two so far.”

“Judging by the speed, I’d say there were actually four.”

“Look for the noise makers,” said Ron.

Harry looked and said, “Yes, Ron’s right. Good spot. I know which one now.”

“You do?” asked Hermione.

“Let’s line up and get ready. There won’t be much time.”

Three more almost identical lobbies flashed by before Harry shouted, “Jump!”

They all landed in a heap, suffering more from the effects of suddenly no longer spinning as much as the fall.

Harry was the first to his feet. He threw off his cloak and drew out two items from his pockets.

“Portus!”

He offered the newly created Portkey to Pansy together with a small card.

“Take these, Pansy. That card will reveal a time and place when we get safely away from here. If you feel safe enough, meet us then, okay?”

“What?”

Harry looked down, expecting her confusion but not the appalling state her hands were in.

He gently reached down and pulled her forearm up. Both her hands were broken and badly bruised.

Harry performed a quick healing charm but knew it wasn’t enough to stop the pain completely or mend the worst of the damage.

“I’m sorry, but you should be okay to get away. See a Healer as soon as you can, though.”

“I will,” she promised, taking the card and the Portkey.

“On three,” said Harry. “One. Two. Three.”

Harry smiled seeing the look of utter confusion on Pansy’s face as she vanished.

Ron made a wicked laugh and said, “She going to have one hell of a landing. That Portkey was practically all electric green!”

Harry frowned slightly. That hadn’t been his intention at all.

He pulled out another object and created another Portkey. This one was formed with almost a pure electric blue glow.

“Here,” he said, offering it up.

Hermione and Ron both grabbed hold.

“I can hear them coming!” shouted Ron.

“On three,” said Harry calmly. “One. Two.”

“Harry? What are you doing?” cried Hermione. “No! Don’t let go!”

“Three!”

They vanished just as the door from the service corridor flew open and a dozen armed guards streamed inside.

Harry turned slowly to face them and raised his arms.

*

Harry was hooded and then marched unceremoniously at gunpoint back through the tunnels. The guards had made quite a few more turns than was necessary, he was sure, in order to disorient him. He was sure that they hadn’t gone through the cell-block again, though.

Finally he was searched a second time and then pushed down into a hard metal chair. Before the hood was pulled off he felt manacles being attached to his ankles.

Harry blinked in the bright lights facing him and looked around. He was surrounded by four hooded guards each pointing an automatic weapon at him and standing a few feet away. He knew at once that these people were experienced in the use of the guns they carried. It was something he’d learned to recognise from Bateman and his colleagues.

The room was plain other than the row of spotlights that were spaced evenly around the cornice. Between these bright lamps, Harry knew, were cameras that he couldn’t see.

After a good few minutes, a door opened in front of him.

Miss Alice appeared wearing a smirk on her face.

“Stand down,” she said quietly, and instantly the four guns were lowered. “This way, Harry.”

Harry stood and followed awkwardly because of the manacles and Miss Alice marched along a short corridor and out into the now familiar briefing room. Once there, he stood quietly, once again contemplating the enormous red cauldron that dominated the room.

Miss Alice reappeared carrying a tray of tea over to the large briefing table.

Tutting when she realised he was still wearing the manacles, she said, “Harry, I don’t have a key for those things and the Level 3 unit are not authorised for this area. Can you manage with them for now?”

Harry nodded and waddled over to join her at the table. The manacles seemed to make him much more clumsy now he was under Miss Alice’s watchful gaze.

“Tea?” she asked pleasantly.

“Thanks,” he replied quietly as she poured them both tea from am elaborate stainless steel teapot.

He thanked her again when she handed him a fine bone china cup and saucer with his tea.

Harry took a sip and asked, “Did you have to reduce the security much?”

Miss Alice smiled as she sipped but shook her head. She swallowed and said, “No, not at all, actually. I think you must have been lucky enough to just miss the patrols. You chose exactly the right point to come in, by the way. It is impossible to man that entrance for long due to all the noise and heat. Of course, the cameras and detectors don’t work properly because of all the electrical interference produced by the generators.”

Harry nodded and took another sip.

“Why don’t you just block that entrance off?” he asked.

“I plan to, but actually we need access for maintenance of the rotating table. It was fine during testing but now we are running the thing for twenty-four hours a day we have found a number of reliability problems.

“I wondered if you wouldn’t use the service access directly under the cells. There is actually a small entrance where you can come up in the centre, but that way in was fully alarmed.”

“Using a rotating cell block is certainly effective. I imagine it is almost impossible to perform magic down there, let alone Disapparate out.”

“It isn’t foolproof. One of you must have performed magic to open the cell door, after all.”

Harry nodded.

“Did you do the key-switch too?”

Harry smiled but shook his head no.

“That’s how we detected your presence, of course,” said Miss Alice conversationally. “The switch has to be turned in a particular sequence that you couldn’t have known.

Harry frowned.

“Why were you so slow getting to us then? I mean, you couldn’t have been sure it was me.”

“True. I ordered them to hold back until we were sure what we were dealing with. I rather assumed that you would be so dizzy from coming off the wheel that you would be incapable of performing magic. During the trials, no Auror could do magic for at least ten minutes.”

“Perhaps you should have invited Quidditch players to have a go,” suggested Harry with a grin.

Miss Alice smiled back but didn’t nod, making Harry wonder if she hadn’t already done so.

Harry placed his half-drunk tea down and said seriously, “I felt I should stay and face the music. I hope you understand that I couldn’t allow you to eliminate her.”

“Are you so sure we would have done that?”

“I don’t think you had many options. Whatever you say about Pansy, she isn’t stupid. She would have escaped before too long. She recovered very quickly from the effects of the rotating cells. I’m also sure that you have seen right through her pretence at co-operation.”

“All true,” agreed Miss Alice.

“I’m not going to ask why you needed her to escape,” said Harry.

“Oh, but you should,” said Miss Alice at once. “You know? I knew you would do something like this. I’m so pleased. For a long while I was sure I had miscalculated.”

Harry shrugged.

“Indeed, that’s why Miss Parkinson wasn’t prepared like the others. Voldemort will be suspicious of her, not the assassin.”

“Tetto?”

“No, there wasn’t enough time to prepare him.”

“It won’t work,” Harry said flatly.

“I does not need to. Even the attempt will scare them witless.”

“No, that’s not what I meant. Why did you tell me there was another assassin? That can only mean there isn’t one. You just want Voldemort to think there might be one.”

Miss Alice clapped her hands with delight and laughed.

Unfortunately, Harry was in no mood to appreciate her levity.

“What happened to her hands?”

“She did that to herself by hammering on her cell door day and night. She was trying to get moved to a hospital facility from where she might stand a better chance of escaping.”

Harry considered these words. He had to concede that this was a plausible explanation.

“What about the hooded prisoner we saw? He was bleeding from under his hood. Was that Tetto?”

“No, we moved him and all of the more important prisoners a few days ago in anticipation of your break-in attempt. I was concerned that someone might take advantage and stage their own escape attempt.”

“But why was he bleeding?”

“Sometimes it is necessary to encourage people to co-operate,” said Miss Alice coldly. “Believe me, what I would call torture, isn’t being practised at this facility.”

Harry shook his head.

“Where is Bear?”

“He’s off organising a few things for me.”

“What does he think about the way your are questioning your prisoners?”

“You know that already.”

“That’s why you wanted him away from here?”

“It would have been dangerous for a couple of our interrogators,” she answered carefully. “I know John threatened to kill at least one of them if he ever saw them again. This was over an incident that occurred years ago. John does not approve of the Government employing such people. The fact that he has himself tortured people to obtain information is somewhat ironic.”

“He said he did that for training, so people can learn to resist interrogation,” said Harry loyally.

“True, but it takes experience to learn such techniques. John is no angel.”

Harry nodded, knowing this was probably correct. Bear had intimated to him that he had done things he later very much regretted.

“Harry, is there anything I can help you with? You know you only need to ask.”

“Thanks, but we’re fine,” he responded, feeling increasingly uncomfortable. Even if they’d needed help at that point he would have refused her offer.

“Well, if there’s nothing more, we should probably find a key for those manacles.”

They stood and Miss Alice led the way out of the room through a new door.

“I think my red cauldron must be losing its effect, Harry,” she said pleasantly over her shoulder. “You hardly glanced at it at all today. Maybe I should get a bigger one?”

Harry snorted.

They turned a corner and Harry realised they were approaching the cell block, except now it was no longer spinning.

“Is anything wrong?”

“Oh, no,” replied Miss Alice, stepping onto the edge of the turntable and walking along the corridor.

Harry noticed that all the cell doors were open and none of the prisoners were present.

“We can’t continue to use this place as intended, now that a prisoner has escaped.”

“What did you do with them?”

“They are being moved to a new secure facility. This bunker will no longer be used for briefing and intelligence gathering either. It will be a bit of a rush, but we should be ready in time.”

“How will you get the cauldron out?”

“Oh, that’s staying. As a matter of fact, it will be the centrepiece of the new operation planned for here.”

Harry frowned seeing his wand. It was suspended in mid-air about three feet off the floor.

“How?” he asked in confusion.

Miss Alice laughed and said, “Go on, take it.”

Harry reached down and grasped the wand. He also instantly realised how the trick was done and pulled his invisibility cloak off the stool that was holding the wand up.

“Now, let’s find that key,” said Miss Alice, but Harry just pointed his wand at the manacles and they fell off onto the polished floor.

“Ah, that would do too,” she observed. “Um, would you like to keep them? I assume you have made arrangements to meet with Miss Parkinson again?”

“No thanks,” said Harry with a smile, bending down and picking them up.

The Battle Standard

by Jardyn39

Chapter 8 – Pocket Tigers

Harry frowned down into the bowl of lukewarm soup he was stirring. Dinner that evening at Grimmauld Place was a very subdued affair.

Hermione had been very upset at him for staying behind without telling them what he was going to do. Harry had apologised, saying truthfully that he had only finally made up his mind at the last moment.

Hermione now sat opposite him next to Ron who alone seemed to be enjoying the meal.

Harry kept going over his conversation with Miss Alice in his mind.

He was sure he had missed something she was telling him. Well, if not actually telling him, then expecting him to work out.

Finally he sighed deeply and dropped his spoon with a cluttering sound.

“I wish I knew what she is really up to,” he said abruptly.

Hermione looked up and blinked, clearly having been deep in thought herself.

“She didn’t ask me anything about my vision.”

“What is there to ask?” said Ron, reaching for another bread roll.

“No,” said Hermione. “She’s usually inquisitive about everything. Maybe she didn’t want to draw your attention to something.”

Harry nodded.

“What if Miss Alice is using torture to interrogate her prisoners?”

“So what if they are?” said Ron. “I mean, look at what they’ve been doing to people.”

“I’m sure their victims would agree, Ron,” said Hermione quietly. “The problem is how can you be sure that the people tortured aren’t actually innocent? People will confess to anything under torture.”

Ron shrugged.

“Miss Alice must know that,” said Harry. “I don’t think she can be extracting confessions. Maybe she is trying to terrorise them or something?”

“To what end?” asked Hermione. “What would be the point?”

“I don’t know,” admitted Harry. “As I said, I think I missed something she was telling me. Maybe all this is yet another deceit?” he added, but not really believing it.

“Why not go and tell Kingsley?” suggested Ron. “The Aurors would take action if they were doing anything illegal.”

“I’m not about to make the same mistake as I did with Ollivander,” said Harry flatly. “I falsely accused him of being the Healer, remember?”

Harry didn’t voice his other reason for not wanting to involve the Aurors. He knew it was perfectly true that they would intervene, but a small but persistent part of him wondered if torture might indeed be justifiable in certain instances.

They were quiet for a few minutes.

“Do you still want to find Torvais?” asked Hermione, breaking the silence.

“Yes. I was hoping we could do that tomorrow, actually.”

“When are you planing on meeting Parkinson?”

“Tomorrow evening at eleven o’clock.”

“I’ll bet you anything she lays a trap for us,” said Ron adamantly.

Harry smiled and said, “She won’t have the location until one hour beforehand, so that would be difficult. Besides, I plan to be there early. If there is any sign of trouble, I can either relocate or cancel the meeting.”

“We, Harry,” Hermione said pointedly. “You are not going alone.”

Harry nodded, knowing he would lose the argument in the end anyway.

*

The next morning Harry came down for breakfast having slept in until past nine o’clock. He knew he would be out until late that night so didn’t worry about what time he rose.

The living room door was wide open and Harry could see an assortment of maps and books strewn all over the floor.

Hermione was sat with her back to him right in the middle, having apparently pushed the furniture to the edges of the room.

“Looks interesting,” he observed, picking his way carefully over to her.

“Oh, morning, Harry,” she said thickly, returning the tiny handkerchief she was using to her sleeve.

“You okay?” he asked gently.

“Fine. I think I may be coming down with a cold, though. I’ve been sniffling all morning.”

“Can I get you anything?”

“No, thanks.”

Harry smiled and nodded. He was about to lean down and kiss her cheek when she lunged for some notes she had by her side. Instead, he picked up the mug with the dregs of a lemon drink by her side and placed it on the table.

“I’ve been trying to shortlist the number of possible locations for Torvais.”

“Any luck?”

“Well, unfortunately there isn’t currently a village by that name in the country. I have drawn up a list of possible sites based upon different spellings and pronunciations, but to be honest I’m not too hopeful. You see, I suspect that it stopped being a Muggle habitation some time ago.”

“Could Scenariste help if the place is now a hidden Wizarding village?” asked Harry, knowing the ghost librarian had access to a vast amount of information.

“I have asked him, but he insists he hasn’t heard of it. I suspect the place is simply vacant and long forgotten.”

“Is that possible? A Village that is completely deserted and left undiscovered for years?”

“I agree, it does seem unlikely.”

“So, how are we going to find the place?”

“Well, you said that originally Torvais was a shipbuilder. I’ve looked that family name up and found that there was indeed a family of shipbuilders by that name up until around the time of Nelson.”

“That’s great, Hermione. Where did they live?”

“Um, that’s a little tricky. You see, they moved from generation to generation following the different demands for their skills. I’ve got at least a dozen or so places, and vague ones at that.”

“So, what are these maps for?”

“I was hoping we might eliminate some. You said it was hilly and there was a waterway, after all.”

“I didn’t see very much, though. Also, we climbed fairly high up but I didn’t see the sea at all.”

“What about the sea air? Could you smell anything?”

“I don’t remember,” Harry admitted.

“Actually Harry, the few sites I’ve confirmed did construct seafaring vessels, are not all near to the sea.”

“Really?” he asked in surprise. Harry had expected all shipbuilders to be located right on the coastline.

“Yes. I imagine it was more important to be near to good timber supplies and ships were much smaller then. This was at least a century before the age of steam, after all.”

They settled down and Harry spent an enjoyable, if rather businesslike, morning with Hermione pouring over the maps and gazetteers she had collected. By lunchtime, they had narrowed the list down to five good candidates.

“Harry, shouldn’t you contact Professor McGonagall?” asked Hermione as they entered the kitchen.

“Um, why?”

“You need to make contact with Moody, don’t you? Who else knows where he lives?”

“Actually, Ron got his address for me; from his Dad.”

“Oh.”

“Still, you may be right,” he added quickly seeing the disappointment on Hermione’s face. “He’s pretty paranoid. It might be safer if someone he trusts tells him I’m coming.”

Hermione smiled and nodded.

“I’ll pop by to see her tomorrow,” he promised.

“Harry, I think you should go this afternoon. I’m going up to Hogwarts myself in a few minutes. Don’t worry,” she assured him, “I’ll be back in plenty of time for this evening.”

“Um, okay,” said Harry, hoping that Professor McGonagall would be too busy to give him any more homework.

*

Fortunately for Harry, Professor McGonagall was in the middle of sorting out a minor crisis when he arrived. He soon learned that Hagrid had brought along one of his prized Magical Creatures when he visited a Second Year who had missed a lesson due to a brief stay in the Hospital Wing.

The Second Year student, like Harry would have been, had greatly enjoyed seeing the playful Pocket Tigers. Unfortunately, Madam Pomfrey hadn’t been so keen to see them in her Hospital Wing and had shooed Hagrid and his two tigers out at once.

It occurred to Harry that perhaps if Hagrid hadn’t stopped to argue how tame they were, he might not have allowed the animals to escape his clutches.

There followed a morning of complete chaos as Hagrid and most of the staff attempted to control the beasts.

This wasn’t a particularly easy task. The tigers were not only rather frightened of all the noise and activity going on around them, they also had one magical trait that made them almost impossible to catch: they could vanish at will and reappear again anywhere within a twelve foot radius.

Harry was directed to help corner the beasts at once but was thoroughly told off by Hagrid when he managed to stun one of the tigers. Professor McGonagall, though, was decidedly less bothered and directed Harry to stun the other one at once.

This proved unnecessary as the remaining tiger lost all interest in the chase and instead meekly approached Hagrid and its unconscious partner.

“Don’ worry,” Hagrid assured the beast. “She’ll be fine. Let’s get you both back to the forest, shall we?”

With enormous strength, he picked up the tiger and they all walked quietly out of the castle.

Harry grinned at Professor McGonagall as she sat down and wiped her brow with a small tartan cloth.

“So, Harry. I assume you didn’t come up for some additional homework or to chase tigers around the school?”

Harry snorted and said, “Actually, I was hoping you’d do me a favour. I need to contact Alastor Moody."

“Indeed? Well, I should warn you that he’s becoming even more eccentric with regards to his personal protection these days. I myself had some difficulty in persuading him it was I the last time I visited.”

Harry smiled but resisted the temptation to pass comment.

“May I ask why you wish to see him?”

Harry’s face dropped and he answered quietly, “I had another message from Professor Dumbledore. It was in his Standard Book of Spells and the message was charmed to wait until now.”

“I see. Well, I’ll try to get a message to him this afternoon. It may be safer if you wait until tomorrow, at least. You may find a little daylight will give you an edge when you have to dodge his hexes.”

“Thanks, Professor. Tomorrow will be fine.”

“Very well, Harry. I’ll get a message to you later. You’ll be glad to know that Augusta has settled in nicely.”

“Good,” said Harry after a moment’s hesitation. He’d always thought of Mrs Longbottom as being the sort of person without a first name.

“I’ve rather enjoyed her company, as a matter of fact.”

“Good. How’s Neville holding up?”

“Well, he does seem rather torn. On the one hand he’s clearly relieved that his Grandmother is safe. On the other, he is rather terrified he’ll be seen in the company of a certain other Mrs Longbottom.”

Harry burst out laughing.

“You heard?”

“How could I not?” Professor McGonagall replied with a warm smile. “By the way, Ginny’s team will be playing this Saturday. You’d be most welcome to come and watch.”

“Thank you, Professor. I’d really like that.”

“Good.”

*

Harry knocked on Ron’s room at Grimmauld Place and waited for him to answer, but instead he heard footsteps come over to the door.

The door opened and Ron said, “Hi, Harry. I’m almost ready.”

Ron left the door open and returned to his bed.

“No hurry.”

“Hermione said it will probably be quite cold later tonight, so I was just deciding what jumpers to wear.”

“Good idea. Listen, Ron. I need you to promise me something. We don’t know what will happen tonight and to be honest, I’d prefer it if Hermione didn’t come. She said she thought she was coming down with a cold or something earlier today but she almost bit my head off when I suggested she might not want to come with us.”

“Let me guess,” said Ron from inside one of Mrs Weasley’s hand knitted jumpers. “You want me to stay with her and get her away the first sign of trouble. Right?”

“Exactly right, Ron.”

“You know, she made me promise not to do that?”

“Well, in that case you’d better get her away before there is any sign of trouble.”

Ron snorted and emerged out of the collar.

“You know? I think Hermione forgot that possibility. Do you really think there’ll be trouble?”

“I’m sure of it, although we may not know until it’s too late. Pansy won’t be able to help herself. She knows there isn’t time for her to set a trap for us, but that doesn’t mean she can’t cause trouble.”

Ron nodded and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“I still can’t get over how different she looked.”

Harry nodded in agreement.

“I mean, she was kind of attractive. What with having lost so much weight around her face and the platinum blonde hair too.”

“Yeah, well you’ll be in trouble with another blonde if she hears you talking like that,” Harry said with a smile.

“I’m only saying. I know underneath she’s the same evil bitch who taunted me for six years.”

Harry went back over to the door.

Before he left he said, “Don’t forget. Hermione gets away before the trouble starts.”

*

They Apparated to the meeting point just after nine o’clock that evening, well before the place of the meeting would reveal itself on the card Harry had given to Pansy.

They immediately checked the entire area thoroughly before settling into position behind a low wall. From there they had excellent views all around them.

They were in the middle of the countryside and it wasn’t long before a tense quiet descended over the area. Quiet, that was, apart from Hermione’s frequent sniffs.

Although she had begun brightly enough, by ten o’clock she was clearly struggling until she began coughing as well.

In the still of the night, even the slightest of noises seemed like it could carry for miles.

Harry left his position and went over to Hermione who immediately tried to both push him away and hold a large handkerchief to her face.

He wrapped both arms around her and whispered into her ear, “You need to go back, Hermione. Ron will take you.”

Hermione relaxed into his arms, and he knew she was admitting defeat.

He leaned in and kissed her surprisingly warm cheek. He couldn’t decide if he was very cold or Hermione had a temperature.

He looked up at Ron who nodded at once.

“Come on, Hermione. I think we’d better go to the Burrow. Mum will fix you up, just you see,” he promised.

They Disapparated with a loud Crack!

*

Harry checked his watch again. It was now just after ten-thirty when he heard a dull pop!

He was sure that someone had Apparated in the near vicinity, but he couldn’t be sure it was Pansy. He looked around, watching for any sign of movement.

After five full minutes, Pansy said, “Taking quite a risk, aren’t you?”

Harry turned to see Pansy. There was a half-moon that night, and he could see her reasonably well. She appeared to be alone and was standing clutching herself.

“Can’t we go somewhere warmer?” she suggested, a shiver in her voice.

Harry picked up a spare blanket that Hermione had brought and wrapped it around her.

He was surprised to discover she was wearing the same clothes as the last time he’d seen her.

Harry flicked his wand and a blast of hot air erupted from his wand to warm them both.

“Thanks.”

“Why didn’t you get help?”

“Who from?” she spat bitterly. “Everyone I know is a potential informant. My family would hand me over in a flash. Anything to get a small credit with the Dark Lord.”

“I’m sorry. You are sure Voldemort will try to kill you?”

Pansy shuddered violently.

“Don’t say the name,” she growled angrily. “Of course he wants me dead. He can hardly afford to take the chance that I’m not co-operating with his enemies.”

“Why not go to the Ministry then?”

Pansy gave a bark of a laugh.

“Do you seriously think that Miss Alice’s recent purges have eliminated all the Dark Lord’s loyal followers in place at the Ministry?”

“No,” he replied honestly, reaching out and gently pulling one of her hands out. “You really should see a Healer with these wounds. How did you get them, by the way?”

“I’m fairly sure I broke something when I was hammering on the cell door,” she replied, “but my fingers were broken deliberately as part of the interrogation.”

“I was told you did all the damage yourself.”

Pansy just shrugged.

“There is a Healer I think I can take you to. He has a family, so I need your assurance that you won’t make trouble for him.”

“I just want the pain to stop,” she said, pulling her hand back. “Blindfold me. Anything.”

“Pansy, I won’t allow you to hurt him or his family,” Harry said gently. “The only way I will allow him to treat you is if you allow me to temporarily blind you and make you deaf.”

“You can’t be serious. What if something happens? What if you decide to betray me?”

“You have my conditions. Of course, he may not agree to treat you anyway.”

Pansy grimaced with pain before saying, “Okay! I agree.”

“Alright. Now, I have some questions for you.”

“Can’t I be treated first?”

“If you are deaf you’ll have trouble listening to my questions.”

“Ask away, then, if you must.”

“Where are Snape and Malfoy?” asked Harry at once, his voice dripping with pent up fury.

“I’ve no idea. No-one does and no-one is even wondering where they are. That means the Dark Lord probably sent them into hiding until he’s ready to use them again.”

“Okay, what about Ollivander?”

“Ollivander? Well, he’s certainly made himself scarce. The Dark Lord has made no secret of the fact he’d like him dead, and soon.”

“Why?”

“The rumour is that the Dark Lord suspects Ollivander to be a traitor.”

Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise and Pansy continued, “Well, if not actually a traitor then someone who is less than fully committed to the Dark Lord’s cause. He’s been waiting for him to show his true colours, only now he’d rather not wait. He won’t come right out and condemn Ollivander without evidence, though.”

“Why ever not?”

“Ollivander still has some has influence and the Dark Lord has always been careful not to provoke him into a direct confrontation. He did things in his youth that would make your scar fall off.”

“Do you know where Ollivander could be?”

“About two months ago he was sighted in Devon. Nothing since then.”

“Alright, thanks. If you are ready, I’ll blind you before we travel.”

“Just how is anyone supposed to get ready to be blinded?” she asked acerbically.

“Um, you have a point, there. I don’t think I could be so trusting,” he admitted.

“Just get on with it, Potter. How long does the effect last?”

“Until I lift the curse. Until then, you’ll have no sight, smell, taste or hearing. You will still be able to feel a little, but you’ll find yourself desensitised to hot and cold.”

“What if something happens to you?”

“You’ll be stuck like it. I doubt if even the best healers could rectify the curse. Anyway, as you said we should get on. If you want to continue, stick your fingers in your ears.”

“What?”

“If you hear the curse it will be permanent, Pansy.”

She looked at doubtfully for a long moment, clearly trying to decide if he was just messing with her. Then she held up both hands and Harry realised her fingers were probably too damaged to cover her ears with. Pansy, however, twisted her wrists and stuck a thumb in each ear.

Harry raised his wand and muttered, “Voluntas Caecus!”

Pansy’s eyes went completely white in an instant. He gently reached up and took hold of her forearms.

She immediately clutched at him and refused to let go. Fortunately a side-effect of the curse meant she was desensitised to the pain of her hands.

“You’ll be fine,” he promised, although he knew she was now utterly deaf.

*

They Apparated into a generous external lobby provided for Wizard visitors. Harry extricated a hand from Pansy’s desperate clutches and pulled the bell cord. He heard a bell ringing distantly at once. It had to be a wizard bell because it played a little tune as well.

The door opened and Harry said, “I’m sorry to disturb you Mrs Spunge. Is Healer Spunge in?”

“Come in,” she said at once, reaching out so both she and Harry could guide Pansy over the stepped threshold. Inside, they soon found themselves in a private consulting room.

Mrs Spunge left and Harry could hear her call, “Barnaby, dear? You have a caller!”

Healer Spunge rushed down the stairs and dashed into his consulting room.

“Harry? Are you alright?”

“Yes, thanks. I brought her here because I was worried about the state of her hands. I tried to fix the worst of it, but as you can see her bones are still out of place.”

“Indeed,” agreed Spunge, gently taking one of Pansy’s hands.

Pansy seemed to sense that someone new was present and she instinctively pulled herself towards Harry.

“She isn’t normally blind, is she?”

“No. We used to go to school together, but she isn’t exactly a friend. I made her agree to me temporarily blinding her before I brought her.”

“What did you use?”

“A Voluntas Caecus curse, but I can reverse it.”

“That’s rather advanced, however I believe you should remove it now.”

“That really isn’t a good idea. If she recognised you again you’d be in trouble. Think of your family.”

“She’s that dangerous?”

“We should assume she could be. I don’t trust her, and neither should you.”

“Lift the curse, Harry.”

Harry sighed and did as he was directed. Instantly, Pansy’s eyes returned to normal and she scanned the room at once.

“How do you do? My name is Barnaby Spunge. I’m a Healer. I asked Harry to remove the curse because I need you to tell me when the pain has subsided.”

Pansy nodded shakily. Harry could see tears forming in her eyes from the pain as feeling returned to her hands.

Fortunately, it didn’t take long for Healer Spunge to heal Pansy’s hands. In only a few minutes she was smiling widely and flexing her fingers.

“Is there any pain now?”

“No, thank you. I’m completely fine.”

Spunge went over to a cabinet and took out a small bottle.

“You’ll probably find you have a certain amount of stiffness in your fingers for a couple of days. This salve will help. Rub it in tonight before you retire and again tomorrow morning and evening. If you have any further pain, please come back and see me. Provided you come alone, I’ll treat you.”

“Don’t worry,” she assured him with a smile. “You did an incredibly brave thing in telling me your name, especially considering my reputation and the company I’ve been keeping. I promise that the Dark Lord will not learn anything from me.”

It occurred to Harry that this was perhaps the first time he’d every heard Pansy say anything so sincerely.

“I’m afraid I don’t have any gold with me,” she continued, “but I will pay you when I am able.”

“That isn’t necessary,” he replied with a smile.

Mrs Spunge appeared with a bundle of clothes. She had obviously seen the state Pansy was in.

“Here are some fresh clothes. They are old and worn but clean. We have a downstairs bathroom where you can wash before you leave and I’ve left a small food parcel for you to take with you. We’ll lock you in and the house wards will allow you to Disapparate out when you are ready.”

“Thank you,” said Pansy, sounding like they were two words she wasn’t used to using.

“We can organise somewhere for you to stay if you need it?”

“No, I’d rather find my own hiding place,” said Pansy not unkindly.

Mrs Spunge showed Pansy to the bathroom and then bid them goodnight.

“Thank you for this,” Harry said to Spunge.

“No problem,” he replied with a smile. “We decided after you left before that we would help in any way we can. Could I ask you to lock up before you go?”

“Of course,” said Harry as they shook hands.

Spunge bid Pansy goodnight as he passed the open bathroom door and went upstairs to join his wife. Harry could hear a child’s sleepy voice complaining about something before the door closed and he realised that the house must be divided so that their private living accommodation was upstairs and the surgery downstairs.

Harry looked into the generous bathroom. There was a large enamelled bath on a pedestal in the middle of the room, a separate shower and twin wash hand basins. The floor, walls and ceiling were all finished in large brilliant white ceramic tiles that appeared to produce their own light. To his right was a stack of large white towels that almost reached up to the ceiling.

The only colour in the room was provided by several rows of brightly coloured bottles of bath oils and soaps in assorted sizes and carefully lined up on white tile shelves around the room.

Pansy was standing and leaning against the nearest basin, staring into the large wall mirror. She looked even thinner than Harry had thought before.

“Pansy,” warned Harry gently, “these are good people.”

“I know,” she replied quietly, unbuttoning the collars of her filthy once-white silk blouse and turning the taps off. “You don’t need to threaten me about that. You may not trust me, but I know what you would do to me if anything were to happen to them.”

Harry frowned slightly. In truth, he didn’t even know himself what he would do. He had hoped to ensure the safety of Spunge and his family by keeping them anonymous.

“Oh, look at the state of me,” said Pansy absently, bringing him out of his reverie. “I should have a bath instead.”

“Why don’t you?”

Pansy turned to face him and it was a moment before he realised he was staring at her. Worse, she had removed her blouse.

Harry looked down and blushed deeply.

“I should be going,” he said looking up to see a mischievous smile playing across Pansy’s face.

She walked slowly over to him.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen so scared,” she admitted.

“Well, I think that was all part of the process. They wanted to keep you disorientated.”

“No, I didn’t mean when I was in the cell block. I meant while I was blind.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, it just seemed for the best. You were never in any danger.”

She smiled and said gently, “I know,” as she leaned in toward him. Pansy made no attempt to stretch up to him, but instead she placed her hand on his chest and stroked upwards.

Harry found himself riveted to the spot. He knew he should step back and extricate himself from the position he was in.

Part of him told him that Pansy was vulnerable. Of course she would seek comfort from him. He’d rescued her and helped her again this evening. Besides, he reasoned, he had done nothing wrong or improper.

Another part of him was telling him that Pansy never did anything that wasn’t calculated to bring her some advantage. She was just trying to seduce him. It was Hermione who excited him by teasingly running her fingers down his back, just like Pansy was doing now.

Before Harry’s internal torment could conclude itself, however, Pansy pushed him away.

“I think you should go now,” she said abruptly.

The moment she said this, he realised that despite what his mind told was the sensible thing, right at that very moment he didn’t really want to go anywhere.

“Um, right,” said Harry, finally managing to move back towards the door. He didn’t remember coming that far into the room.

“Don’t forget to lock the door after you,” she reminded him, turning the bath taps on full.

Harry chided himself as he took a last look at Pansy before he closed and magically locked the bathroom door. She was perched precariously on the bath pedestal and leaning over the deep bath, presumably to insert the plug.

He checked the entrance door was secure and then Apparated out of the house. The Spunge house was actually only a half-hour walk from Grimmauld Place and Harry decided he preferred to get some air before returning.

Although he had hoped to clear his head, for much of the first few minutes the view he had of Pansy leaning into the bath occupied most of his thoughts.

It wasn’t only her face and hair that had changed, he reminded himself; and it was more than just weight loss. Pansy carried herself far differently than he remembered. She seemed to have a poise and grace now that he’d never noticed before.

Harry entered the square outside Grimmauld Place from the opposite site to Number Twelve. He hesitated a moment and then looked around to make sure no-one was watching. He then Apparated into the private garden shared all the surrounding houses. Normally the gates would be open, but they were generally chained shut at night.

He sat down on a bench seat and tried to collect his thoughts, facing where his knew the house was but could not see yet.

There was a crack and Kreacher said, “Has Master forgotten his way home?”

Harry snorted and looked down to see the house elf sat next to him on the bench.

“No,” replied Harry with a smile. “Mind you, I’m not sure I haven’t forgotten something. Did Ron and Hermione get back okay?”

“No. The Weasley said they were staying at the Burrow tonight.”

“Oh, right. Yes, I remember now. We might as well go in then.”

“Was Master staying out here to avoid them?” asked Kreacher shrewdly.

“Maybe,” Harry admitted, standing up.

The Battle Standard

by Jardyn39

Chapter 9 – Guilt

“Harry, please tell me what’s wrong,” pleaded Hermione for the third time. Ron had delivered her safely back to Grimmauld Place early that morning before going off to Fred and George’s shop.

Harry was pleased to learn that Mrs Weasley had apparently managed to cure Hermione’s cold completely.

“It’s nothing, Hermione. I suppose I’m just worried what Moody is going to tell me,” he replied. Although partly true, it was not, in fact, Harry’s main concern.

He’d woken that morning only to find himself burdened with guilt.

Although thoroughly ashamed of his last thoughts before falling asleep the previous evening, he now knew from his reaction that he didn’t really need to ask who the second Mrs Potter might have been.

“Um, Harry? What’s up with Kreacher this morning?”

Harry laughed and said, “He’s just having a joke at my expense, Hermione.”

“Well, I’m glad you appear to enjoy the joke because he’s certainly put a lot of effort into it.”

Harry chuckled and nodded. He was also heartened to see his smile briefly returned by Hermione.

They were sitting at the breakfast table in the kitchen, although very little of the kitchen was actually visible just then. Every single item in the kitchen had a piece of string tied around it, and attached to the string were large brown card labels. On one side, Kreacher had written a clear description of the item in question. On the other side, Kreacher had helpfully given hints as to the location of sundry other objects that Harry might have forgotten as well.

Harry was sure Kreacher hadn’t missed a thing, although he was rather glad Kreacher had restricted himself to just labelling the kitchen. He wondered how much time the elf had spent. Every vegetable in the pantry was labelled, down to the smallest carrot.

What made the whole spectacle more ridiculous was the fact that the labels were all ridiculously big for the item it was attached to. The one on the dresser was almost three feet long. In addition, each had been charmed to flutter whenever anyone got close, competing with the other labels to get attention and get themselves read.

Harry picked up the toast rack, complete with the remaining three labelled slices of toast and offered them to Hermione. All three labels jumped towards her, pulling the slices of toast out of the rack and onto her plate.

Phryne the Phoenix chick gave an annoyed chirrup as the label she was nibbling rose out of her reach as well.

Harry returned the rack to its original position as soon as Hermione had taken her toast but by then Phryne had begun playing with her own label again.

“Are you sure you are up for this, Hermione?”

“Well, perhaps we might learn something useful.”

“Yes, but you seemed so poorly last night.”

“I’m perfectly well today, thank you, Harry.”

“You sound like Mrs Longbottom,” he observed with a smile. “Okay, but we come back if you’ve had enough. We don’t have to do it all in one day.”

Hermione nodded and tried to pull apart the jars of marmalade and strawberry jam because their labels were fighting.

*

Harry climbed the steps from the basement to find Hermione kneeling down and talking to Kreacher in a very concerned tone.

“Kreacher, what is it you are trying to tell me?”

Harry realised at once that some previous instruction, perhaps even his own order, was preventing Kreacher from talking properly to Hermione.

“Kreacher,” he said as he approached. “You may tell Hermione anything you wish to and you may not tell her anything you don’t wish to.”

“Thanks, Harry,” said Hermione with a smile.

“Has either of you seen my Firebolt?”

“It is under Master’s bed,” replied Kreacher. “Shall Kreacher fetch it for Master?”

“No thanks, Kreacher,” said Harry as he dashed up the stairs. “I need to change anyway.”

It was only when he got to the landing and he heard Hermione ask, “Now, Kreacher. What did you want to say to me?” that Harry became worried. Perhaps he had been a little too impulsive in granting Kreacher such a wide-ranging permission?

He immediately assured himself that unless Kreacher had learned to become a Legilimens there shouldn’t be a problem.

“Kreacher thinks Miss Hermione looks terribly ugly in those robes!” said the elf, cackling loudly.

“Kreacher!” bellowed Harry from the top of the stairs. “What did I say about making rude remarks? Call me names if you want, but Hermione deserves to be treated with more respect. Besides-”

“It’s alright, Harry,” called Hermione, who didn’t sound at all bothered or surprised by Kreacher’s insult. “Kreacher, please tell me what you really wanted to say just now.”

*

Harry and Hermione Apparated right at the very peak of the high Cumbrian hill and at once were almost blown off their feet by the strong gusts of wind.

Hermione ducked down and looked at her folded map of the region.

This was the first candidate location for the village.

“Well, Harry. Does anything look familiar?”

“No, not really. I think this hill is a bit higher than the one we flew over. We should check from the air to make sure, though.”

“Well, go on then.”

“Hermione,” said Harry with a grin, “You agreed we should stick together. If I fly, so do you or we go back now.”

“Harry, you know how much I hate flying.”

“Yes, that’s why I thought it would be a good idea to have a little practice. Just the two of us.”

“You think I’m afraid, don’t you?”

“Yes, but I’m more concerned that you won’t be able to get yourself out of trouble if you need to.”

“I can fly, remember?”

“So fly with me now,” he suggested gently, and his Firebolt instantly rose up ready to be mounted.

Hermione gave a groan and stuffed the map back into her pocket.

“No dives and stay out of the clouds,” she ordered before climbing onto the broom.

“Well, shift up then,” he said with a grin. Hermione had pushed herself to the back of the broom, clearly expecting him to fly from the front.

“How do you expect to fly properly from behind me?”

“You said you could fly, Hermione. I’ll just be a passenger this time.”

Harry got on behind her and wrapped his arms tight around her middle, expecting a fast take-off. It was easy to hang onto a speeding broom when you were in control, but both he and Ron had fallen off at various times when they were the passengers.

Of course, they were invariably doing something stupid at the time.

They took off at a sedate speed and flew around the hill at a height barely above the long grass.

“Well?”

“Um, I can’t really tell from this low. How about climbing a little higher?”

“Harry, you can see perfectly well from here. If this isn’t the right place, we should move onto the next one.”

“Okay, Hermione. I’m sure this isn’t it.”

Hermione landed gently and began to dismount.

“Hang on, Hermione,” said Harry, fumbling with his pack and bringing out his invisibility cloak.

“What do you need that for?”

“I thought we could fly to the next location. It’s only a few miles from here and if we wear my cloak we won’t risk being seen.”

“Harry, it’s miles away! What if we get lost?”

“Well, I remembered to fit that broom compass you gave me. See?”

“There must be at least three Counties between here and the next one,” she continued doubtfully. They had agreed that although they believed the village was in Cumbria, their search area should extend beyond the modern county borders.

“Hermione, I was hoping we could, er, fly a little quicker than we did just now. In fact,” he continued cautiously, “I was hoping we could pretend some Death Eaters were after us.”

“Harry, this is just silly.”

“Yes, Hermione, but we only brought the one broom. Otherwise I’d be chasing you and firing spells for you to avoid. By the way, that’s exactly what we’ll be doing on Saturday. Ron and the others are all up for it, but I wondered if you’d prefer to have a practise beforehand.”

“Do we really have to do this?”

“Not if you don’t want to, no,” he said gently.

“Harry, we both know I’ll never fly as recklessly as you.”

Harry just grinned at her.

“How about you fly us part of the way?” she suggested. “Maybe then you’ll get it out of your system.”

Harry shook his head and said, “Hermione, whenever we’ve flown together before all you ever do is shut your eyes and scream.”

They laughed and Hermione said, “Well, it seemed the thing to do.”

“Come on, let’s at least try.”

Hermione rolled her eyes but climbed back onto the broom in front of him.

Just then they heard shouts coming from their left and both turned.

Without thinking, Harry reached forward around Hermione and grabbed the Firebolt. In an instant they were in the air and diving out of sight behind a rocky outcrop several feet below.

It was only then that Harry realised there was no actual threat to themselves.

Two children were running up the path towards their position, apparently intent upon racing each other to the peak of the hill. Two small dots, which Harry took to be their parents, could be seen far below.

“Sorry, Hermione,” he said as soon as they slowed.

“I don’t think they saw us.”

“You okay?” he asked with concern.

“Of course, Harry. Why?”

“Well, you didn’t scream as usual. You had me worried.”

This remark earned him a dig from her elbow.

Harry laughed and said, “Actually, we appear to be pointing in the right direction. How about we carry on?”

“Shouldn’t we put the cloak on first?”

Harry released both hands and hoisted the cloak over them both, leaving just each end of the broom partly visible. Talking a fist of the cloth in both hands, he again wrapped both arms around Hermione.

“Ready?”

“Go!”

They dived down, following the dropping ground level.

“When we get to that barn ahead, direct the Firebolt upwards and urge it to accelerate!” directed Harry.

If Hermione had any doubts, she didn’t express them. Instead she accelerated upwards towards the low clouds.

*

The second possible location for the village was a coastal town. Harry knew at once it wasn’t the one and they decided not to stop.

Harry managed to persuade Hermione to fly out to sea a short way so they could circle a slow moving tanker heading for the main port a few miles away.

She was now flying faster but still hesitated before making turns or approaching obstacles on the ground. Hermione also disliked making abrupt mid-air changes in course, but he decided not to push her too much this soon.

“Hermione?” he shouted as they sped back towards the beach. “What do you think that tower is? We’ve been past a couple already!”

“Yes, Harry. I think they are old lookout towers. Do you want to investigate?”

“No, but how about flying around them with a tight turn?”

“Never give up, will you?”

Harry laughed and yelled, “I’ll give up when you give me a scare!”

Hermione’s first tight turn around the closest tower almost had them both off. Harry took control just in time.

”You have to lean into the bend. Make the Firebolt do all the work. See?”

He flew the broom around the tower again to show her, travelling much closer and at twice their previous speed.

“Let’s go on to the next one so you can have a good run at it!”

Hermione’s next turn was much better and her turn at the third tower was as good as Harry could have done.

“That’s more like it!” shouted Harry.

“Which direction, Harry?” Hermione yelled back, accelerating fast.

“Slightly to our right, but watch out for those power lines!”

Hermione made a slight course correction but Harry was a little concerned that she hadn’t changed altitude yet.

With the high voltage power lines fast approaching, he decided that either she wasn’t aware of the danger or wanted to give him a little scare of her own.

Harry released an arm and reached up to squeeze her shoulder. If it had been Ron, he’d have punched his back to get his attention, but he was afraid of distracting her too much.

“What?”

“Power lines!”

Hermione immediately began to pull up but Harry shouted, “No! Dive under!”

Feeling Hermione hesitate, possibly the worst thing to do given the speed they were travelling, Harry reached around and directed the Firebolt under the lines with a safe clearance. He continued on to a small clump of trees and landed them safely in the shadows.

Harry reached out and just held her close. She was shaking but not daring to breathe yet and he could feel her heart thumbing through his chest.

“We’re safe, Hermione. It’s okay.”

“I didn’t see them,” she said shakily. “I could have killed you.”

“No, Hermione. Those cables are spaced quite wide apart. We probably could have flown right through them.”

“I didn’t see.”

“That’s because it’s easy to get a kind of tunnel vision when you fly that fast,” he said gently. “I’ve done it myself. You see what’s on the horizon but forget the near obstructions.”

Hermione nodded and twisted a little to face him. They both extended their legs and the Firebolt lowered them gently the last few feet to the soft ground.

“I’m sorry, Hermione. I should have reacted sooner. I think wearing the cloak gives a false impression about how fast we were going.”

“I’m going to have nightmares about this, you know?”

“Me too,” he replied with a grin, “except I’ll be worried you’ll always fly faster than me. I think you almost broke the sound barrier back there!”

Hermione snorted and said, “I’d like to change over now.”

“We can go back if you want?”

“No, Harry. I’m fine.”

Harry didn’t argue. He hopped off the back and climbed on again at the front before arranging the invisibility cloak over them both.

Hermione snaked her arms around him and held on tight as they took off again.

*

Harry slowed and shouted, “There are some people flying kites up ahead, Hermione. I think we should skirt around them, just in case.”

“Okay!”

Harry turned and dived in one natural fluid movement before climbing out of the dive in a new direction. Hermione gasped and redoubled her grip.

“Do you really have to do that?”

“I’m sorry, Hermione,” he shouted with a laugh. “Hey! Look over there!”

Harry put on a burst of speed. He wasn’t sure, but from this direction the profile of one of the hills ahead looked familiar.

“This way isn’t towards any of our candidates!” shouted Hermione.

“It looks similar, though. I think we should check it out while we are here.”

He knew Hermione thought he just wanted to perform another fast turn; especially as he lined himself up nicely with the centre of the picturesque valley below.

“Oh dear, I may just have to start screaming again.”

“No, Hermione. You can open your eyes,” he assured her. “See that lower hill over there? I’m sure that was the hill from which Christopher showed me where the camps were.”

“Let’s go and look then!”

They sped towards the hill, but Harry felt Hermione thump him on the back. He pulled away at once and headed back towards the larger hill behind them.

“Did you see it?”

“A kind of shimmering at the bottom of the valley?”

“Yes! I’m sure it has some kind of shield. Can you land at the top of the hill so we can get a better look?”

“There is a lookout on the lower hill,” observed Harry.

“Really?”

“Yes, I could see the camouflage netting as we flew over. We should be careful and check out the higher hill before landing.”

Harry made two slower passes before finally selecting a landing position.

They observed the shimmering area for some minutes. It looked a little like heat haze, except the day was actually rather cool for the time of year.

“What do you think?”

“Is that where the village was, Harry?”

“Not really, but it is close. I remember it being closer to the smaller hill. I also remember these two hills but I’m sure the ones on the other side were much, much smaller. There is clearly a valley down there that I don’t remember being that big. The river looks different too.”

“I’m wondering if, at some point in the future, these hills were relocated or somehow duplicated at the same time the village was relocated.”

“Is that even possible?”

“In theory, yes. Mind you, I’ve never read about anything this large being relocated. I wonder how it was done?”

“What about the shimmering?”

“Oh, that’s much simpler. It looks like an illusion charm. The village isn’t actually shielded or invisible, but we must have passed a charmed line that makes us believe we can’t see the village.”

“By why is it shimmering then?”

“Perhaps we were too high for the charm to be fully effective,” she suggested.

“Perhaps,” he agreed slowly. “Actually, is that likely? I mean, won’t they be expecting wizards to travel on broomsticks?”

“This was supposed to be an abandoned Muggle village.”

“You think our timeline may be different?”

“Well, yes.”

“Okay. Do we go down there?”

“How confident are we that we can get through any more wizard protections? Perhaps we could try. I suspect the initial wards will just turn us back the way we came anyway.”

“Well, we’d better travel in on foot. I don’t fancy being knocked unconscious in mid-air.”

Hermione pulled out a scrap of paper and wrote a quick note.

“What is that for?”

“The most common form of ward would affect our memories. This is simply to remind us where we came from and where we wanted to go when we set out.”

“Good idea.”

They flew down the hill and landed on the other side of a line of trees before they set off on foot.

“We should do more of this,” said Harry, taking hold of her hand as they walked.

“Mm,” agreed Hermione, although she hardly seemed to relax at first.

He chided himself for scaring her like that.

Harry worked hard not to mention the power lines for fear of upsetting her further but discovered, in his attempts to engage her in conversation, that he was quite uncomfortable expressing his own feelings.

Part of him wanted desperately to explain everything to Hermione. How he felt obliged to harden his attitudes and allow the line between right and wrong to become a little more blurred. His conscience seemed to be less bothered the deeper he tried to bury his emotional reactions. Each time it became easier, but he hadn’t expected his emotions not to be there when he called to them.

He knew it was usually Hermione who dragged his admissions out of him, but now she didn’t seem to need to.

Harry wondered if she already knew, as she so often did in matters concerning himself, without being told.

He wanted to hear her tell him everything would be alright; that even if he forgot how to feel, she wouldn’t.

A small part of him worried that she might not say that at all, and at this yet another uncomfortable feeling got pushed deeper inside.

After over an hour of walking, Hermione suddenly stopped and pulled out her note.

“Harry, according to my note we are travelling in completely the wrong direction.”

Harry blinked and looked around. The moment he recognised the hill behind them he laughed. They must have been affected by the wards without even realising it. He guessed they had been walking in completely the opposite direction for a good half-hour.

“I think we should go and come back when we’ve had a better idea about how to get in there,” he suggested.

The Battle Standard

by Jardyn39

Chapter 10 – Rust

Harry walked up the gravel driveway and was about to pull the door bell when a familiar voice growled at him from some adjacent bushes.

“Freeze.”

“Hello, Professor,” replied Harry, turning to face the conifers. “Professor McGonagall sends her regards.”

Harry kept his hands visible at all times, but he didn’t relax the grip on his wand for a moment.

“Why did you want to see me?”

“I got a message from Dumbledore. It was in his Standard Book of Spells. He just said-”

“Shut up, boy!” snarled Moody. “We can be overheard out here.”

Harry felt Moody’s wand tip touch the back of his neck.

“How did you get back there?” asked Harry in amazement.

“Little trick I learned years ago. Being able to throw my voice has got me out of a number of sticky situations, I can tell you. I remember once-“

“Um,” interrupted Harry, “shouldn’t we talk inside if we could be overheard out here? Also, are you sure I’m, er, me? Not an impostor, I mean.”

Harry turned to face Moody.

Moody studied him carefully for a moment before he lowered his wand.

“I happen to know that the last idiot who tired to impersonate you is still in St Mungos, singing his heart out.”

Harry smiled and nodded.

“Thanks to the Deceiver’s Distillation, Polyjuice and bits of me don’t mix too well anymore.”

“You’d better come inside. Come round to the back door, will you? I’ve booby-trapped the front door.”

“Is that safe?”

“What do I care?”

As Harry followed the old ex-Auror, he thought how old he was looking. The limp seemed more exaggerated and his long greying hair seemed far whiter than before.

Then Harry realised that Moody’s magical eye was bound to be watching him, so he looked around for something to distract him.

Harry was amazed to see that the garden was quite immaculate. The wide spacious lawn was perfectly flat and trimmed short. There wasn’t a weed in the entire garden from what Harry could see.

They stepped inside and Harry was greeted with a sight far more in keeping with his expectations of how Moody would live.

Almost every single space on the kitchen units was piled high with old and dirty pots and pans. Even the floor was covered.

Wondering why Moody didn’t just use magic to clear away all the clutter and mess, Harry resolved not to pass comment. This was Moody’s home and it was his to live in just as he pleased.

“Sit!” commanded Moody, pointing to a rocking chair in the middle of the living room. “I need to go and find something Dumbledore left in my keeping.”

Harry nodded and sat down.

The chair was surrounded by discarded newspapers. He picked one up and found that Moody had cut several articles out.

Several crashes and curses later, Moody came back carrying a bundle of carpet tied together with string. Harry stood, wondering what it was he had.

“I was afraid I’d lost this,” said Moody, balancing the bundle precariously on top of a convenient pile of newspapers.

“Let’s talk here a moment, and then I’ll show you these outside,” suggested Moody, sitting in the rocking chair.

He then pointed his wand at Harry’s feet and a small stool appeared with a pop!

Harry sat down on the stool and watched as Moody contemplated what he was going to say.

“Dumbledore entrusted those things to me some years ago. His original intention was that I should hand them over and someone else should teach you how to use them. A few months before his death, he warned me that his original plans were unlikely to come to fruition and he asked if I would stand in, as it were.”

Harry was dying to know what they were but managed to hold his silence.

“To be entirely honest, I was hoping not to have to do this.”

“Why?” Harry found himself asking.

“Potter, I’m a useless teacher. I’ve no patience and I’ve no sense of what a reasonable expectation of attainment should be. When I was an Auror, no juniors wanted to be assigned to me, precisely because of that.”

“You can’t be that bad,” said Harry with a smile. “Dumbledore wouldn’t have invited you to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts otherwise.”

“Don’t you believe it, boy. That damn impostor’s teaching abilities should have put Dumbledore onto him at once!”

Harry chuckled and shook his head in disagreement.

“So, um, what did Professor Dumbledore want you to teach me?”

“Potter, there’s something you have to understand.”

“Please, call me Harry.”

“Harry. You’ve become quite good at duelling. Minerva has been keeping me advised of your progress with her, and she’s quietly impressed.”

“I haven’t really done much duelling with her,” Harry admitted.

“There’s more than one way to fight a duel, Potter. I mean, Harry. Sorry.”

Harry smiled at him.

“What I mean is,” continued Moody, “if you think back to the things she’s been teaching you, I think you’ll find an element of defence is involved.”

Harry frowned and shook his head.

“Dumbledore wasn’t powerful because he could do more magic than anyone else; although he probably could,” Moody admitted. “No, he was powerful because he thought more.”

Harry nodded.

“Well, our dear Minerva isn’t too far behind Dumbledore when it comes to intellect. She was made Deputy Headmistress because Dumbledore saw something in her. He had to fight the Governors hard to get her promoted ahead of many more qualified teachers. He knew then what most of us only saw later.

“Anyway, I’m getting away from my point. Er, what was my point?”

“You said she’s been teaching me defence,” said Harry.

“Right, except that instead of fighting, she’s been showing you how to think your way to victory. You know, looking beyond the immediate advantage, and all that rubbish.”

Harry frowned, but before he had a chance to consider this news, Moody was continuing.

“Now, my job is to teach you yet another way of fighting. You’ll be relieved to know that it will involve actual fighting and very little thinking.”

Moody leaned forward towards Harry and said seriously, “I’ve only ever been in two wizard battles. You know, where two groups of wizards met head on for an all-out fight to the death. The first time I was barely out of school. I was terrified and I don’t think I managed to hit a single enemy.”

“I know what a battle is like,” Harry said quietly.

“I gave a better account of myself the second time,” continued Moody before checking himself. “Boy, how could you possibly know?”

Harry looked up and said, “Well, the first time was the raid on Voldemort’s camp. I think that’s why Bear wanted me to come along, really. The other time was the raid on the Archive, although that wasn’t really a battle as such, other than in the Arena.”

“Who is this Bear?”

“He’s a Muggle soldier. His name is Sergeant John Bateman.”

“Well. He obviously had the right idea. Perhaps you won’t be completely hopeless after all!”

Harry grinned and Moody barked with laughter.

“Come on then,” said Moody, grabbing Harry’s shoulder and pulling himself to his feet. “Let’s see how you get on with the toys Dumbledore left for you!”

*

They walked out onto the grass. The sun felt warm on Harry’s face and he had to shield his face until his eyes became accustomed to the brightness after the dark interior.

Moody dropped the three foot wide roll of carpet onto the grass and cut the strings with his wand. He then kicked the carpet to make it unroll to reveal a mat about five feet in length.

Harry gasped audibly, mainly because the assorted collection of antiques before him could never have been concealed inside a roll of conventional carpet.

Once he’d got over the shock, a feeling of disappointment came over him. He’d been hoping for something a little more impressive.

Moody, even with his magical eye, seemed to overlook the poor state of the objects.

“Take a good long look because in a moment I’m going to put these away again.”

“Why?” asked Harry, reaching down to pick up one of the objects on the carpet.

Moody flicked his wand and Harry withdrew his hand, rubbing the painful burn he now had.

“If you didn’t want me to touch, why not just say so?” complained Harry.

“These are far too good to practise with,” said Moody. “I just wanted you to see so you know what we’re aiming for.”

“Er, what are we aiming for?”

“Didn’t I say?”

“No, but I guess I’m to learn how to use them.”

“Actually, no. Anyone attempting to just use these things will just get themselves killed.”

“How do you mean?”

“I’m not entirely sure. It’s what Dumbledore said, that’s all.”

“Just how experienced are you in using things like these?”

“I once saw these very items used in anger.”

“Once?”

“Yes, although I had been drinking at the time. Dutch courage, you know?”

“Who? Was it Dumbledore?” asked Harry expectantly.

“Nope. Dumbledore was the one fighting him, though. Killed the owner of this little lot after barely making an effort to defend himself.”

Harry’s shoulders sagged.

“So, what’s the point then? Voldemort is hardly likely to have a problem defending himself against me with these, is he?”

“No, I’d agree with you there,” said Moody, pointing his wand down at the carpet again.

“Just a minute,” said Harry.

“I’ll get my practise sets out for you to have a go with,” promised Moody.

“Fine. Just leave these here a moment, will you? I promise not to touch.”

“Mind you don’t,” muttered Moody, limping back to the house.

Harry kneeled down at the very edge of the carpet to examine the objects in more detail. He knew Dumbledore had a good reason for wanting him to have these things, but what was it?

He thought it rather likely that either Moody had forgotten what Dumbledore had told him, or perhaps Dumbledore had instructed Moody to be vague.

The most obvious thing that had struck Harry was the fact that the small roll of carpet was clearly not just a carpet. The items revealed were far too large for one thing.

The second thing was the extraordinarily poor condition the items were in. Each was either coated with dark coloured rust and corrosion, although bright metal shone through in a few isolated locations.

Harry shifted himself around the edge of the carpet so he was looking at the largest item the right way up. It was a large shield with a snarling black dog on the front. The dog’s eyes seemed to follow his every move.

It was very tempting for Harry to break his promise and shift the shield over a bit so he could get a decent look at the other objects. What looked like a long broadsword protruded out but be couldn’t see the handle properly. Beside that were two identical looking smaller swords and a dagger.

There was also a clump of old chain mail and a peculiar looking metal helmet. It looked like there might be some other smaller items under the shield and mail too.

Moody returned carrying a large canvas bag and dropped it carelessly onto the grass.

“Don’t let the poor state of that gear fool you,” advised Moody, obviously sensing that Harry was less than impressed so far. “Go, on. Sort yourself out something from that practise bag while I put these others away.”

Harry nodded and went over to the bag and began opening the heavy leather buckled fastenings. He didn’t like to use magic in case he damaged the bag.

He finally got the back open just as Moody reappeared carrying a large jug and two pint glasses.

Harry reached into the bag and drew out a timber stick. He put that to one side and picked out another.

“We’re supposed to practise with these?”

“Sure, once I’ve transfigured them back. You see, the Ministry takes a dim view of people keeping things like these around the house. Especially, well, me.”

Harry snorted and nodded. He could well imagine the reaction if they learned Moody had a collection of weapons stored at home.

“Here,” said Moody gruffly, holding out a glass of beer. “Essential for training,” he advised seriously.

“If you say so,” said Harry, taking the glass and sipping.

“Yeah. Believe me, having your limbs re-attached hurts like blazes unless you’ve had a pint or two.”

“Er,” began Harry, lowering his glass.

Moody stomped over and pointed his wand at the two sticks on the grass.

They glowed for a moment and Harry had a degree of expectation to see what they would be transformed into.

He took a long draw on his pint to compensate for yet another disappointment.

The sticks had been transfigured, but unfortunately they were now just slightly longer polished ebony sticks.

Moody held out his free hand and instantly one of the sticks flew up for him to catch. It also seemed to change in length, presumably to suit his height and reach.

Intrigued, Harry put his glass down and pointed his hand out. The second stick positively leaped into his hand.

“Minerva made me promise not to actually risk severing anything you might consider important for our first lesson,” explained Moody with a lopsided grin. “Mind you, I made no such promise for our second lesson.”

Harry grinned and swung the stick around, trying to remember everything Bateman had told him about short-swords and long knives.

Once Moody had finished his pint, they began.

Harry had expected that as Moody wore a false leg and needed a stick to walk with, he’d have a big advantage.

What he hadn’t counted on was Moody not actually moving at all. Instead, he used his wand to levitate and control his sword-stick.

This left Harry to defend himself against Moody’s stick alone.

After about half an hour of that, Moody called a halt.

“You’ve had some experience with short-swords, haven’t you?”

“Only a little. John Bateman taught us some simple moves before we attacked the Healer’s lair.”

“Hm. Okay, let’s try again except this time I’ll actually be trying.”

Harry smiled and readied himself.

*

“Ow!”

“Master should keep still or Kreacher will miss bits.”

“Well, hurry up, then,” complained Harry, wincing as Kreacher applied ointment to the bruises all over his back. He’d managed by himself for the rest of his body.

“Hermioine manages to be much gentler.”

“Kreacher can go and wake her if Master orders.”

“Don’t you dare!”

“As Master wishes,” said the elf, rubbing rather harder than was necessary at a particularly tender spot.

“Come on, you must have finished by now.”

“Just a few red patches to go. Then Kreacher will begin on the yellowing blotches.”

“Ow!”

“Perhaps Master will learn to move out of the way if anyone tries to hit him with a stick. Kreacher could help Master practise if he wanted?”

Harry laughed but shook his head. The idea of Kreacher creeping up and whacking him with a long stick didn’t appeal at all.

“No, thanks, Kreacher.”

“Perhaps if Master hadn’t drunk quite so much?”

“Well, Moody said it would help with the pain. Maybe I shouldn’t have had that third pint, though. It was home brewed, apparently.”

“Perhaps it is just as well Miss Hermione decided to retire early this evening.”

“Yeah, perhaps. Ow!”

*

“Harry?”

“Hi, Hermione,” Harry replied stiffly. He was sitting awkwardly at the breakfast table with Kreacher but couldn’t get at all comfortable. Kreacher was pulling faces and holding his nose.

“You look dreadful, Harry.”

“I feel dreadful, actually. Moody wants me to go back today as well.”

“Okay. I was going to see if I could find something that might get us into that village.”

“That’d be good.”

“What time will you be back?”

“I’ve no idea. It was gone midnight before I got away last night.”

“Can you tell me what the training involves?”

“A complete waste of time, I suspect. I spent quite a long time yesterday wondering what Dumbledore actually intended Moody to teach me. Anyway, I thought I’d keep at it for a while.”

“Okay.”

Just then the fire blazed up and Moody’s booming voice yelled, “Potter? Where are you? Come on, I’ve got the day all planned out!”

“Alright, alright!” said Harry, staggering to his feet. “I’ll be there in two minutes.”

There was a pop and Moody was gone.

Harry looked over to see Hermione smiling at him.

“You know, Kreacher?” she said wistfully, “I think Harry’s really enjoying himself with Moody.”

“Kreacher quite agrees, Miss. Of course, Master is rather strange like that.”

Harry smiled to see them getting along so well, even if it had to be at his expense. Just lately, Hermione had stopped trying to please and being overtly kind to Kreacher, something the house elf had always detested. Kreacher, on his part, seemed more content to remain when Hermione was present, something he had generally avoided before.

Harry walked around the table to kiss Hermione goodbye when she suddenly pulled a face and pushed him away.

“Oh, Harry! You smell awful!”

“Well, it’s only Kreacher’s ointment,” Harry said indignantly, sniffing himself and realising he must have got used to the dreadful smell.

“Do you have time for a bath?”

“I’ve had two this morning already; the second was at Kreacher’s insistence!”

Hermione laughed but went rather red in the face because she was still holding her nose.

“Well, if I’m not getting a kiss I’ll be going then.”

“Maybe Kreacher will be brave enough?” she suggested, now with tears of laughter.

Harry pulled a face and prepared himself to Disapparate. Just an instant before he did so, Kreacher turned to Hermione and said, “There are limits to the House Elf enslavement, you know?”

The Battle Standard

by Jardyn39

Chapter 11 – War Tales

Harry Apparated directly to Moody’s back garden, facing the house just in case the retired Auror decided to take a pot-shot at his back.

Moody, though, was sitting on a stool and rummaging through his canvas bag.

“Ah, there you are Potter.”

“Harry,” prompted Harry.

“Right. Anyway, this morning I thought we’d progress. You did quite well with the Bokken yesterday; rather better than I expected.”

“Bokken?”

Moody stopped and looked up.

“Damn. Did I not tell you that? I said I was a useless teacher, didn’t I? A Bokken, Harry, is a Japanese term for a timber practise sword. A true Bokken looks more like a Samurai sword, of course.”

Harry nodded.

“I still don’t see why did you have to keep the timber practise swords transfigured. They couldn’t be classed as weapons, could they?”

“No, but the Ministry aren’t complete idiots. If they found them they’d start looking for what else I’ve got hidden away around here. Actually, it was Arthur Weasley who suggested I hide them.”

Harry smiled and nodded.

“So, what are we practising with today?”

“I thought I’d take it easy and just fire hexes at you. Here, you’ll need this,” said Moody, handing him a small timber trophy shield. It looked rather like one of Dudley’s boxing trophies. Upon close inspection Harry found it was for third runners-up in a Scouting football tournament.

Moody picked up his wand and lightly touched the tip to the trophy.

Harry felt a mild shock run through his fingers and found he was holding a large metal shield. He put his left arm through the leather straps at the back and grabbed hold of the handle before walking out a few feet towards the centre of the lawn.

The shield was heavy and felt awkward but he assumed he would somehow get used to it.

“What are you doing, boy?”

“Um, I don’t know,” replied Harry honestly. “I assumed you’d start firing hexes at me.”

“Come back here,” Moody ordered. “How on earth do you expect to defend yourself like that? You’re a wizard, not some medieval knight.”

“Okay, so how does a wizard hold a shield then?” replied Harry, now a little nettled.

Moody was silent for the moment it took Harry to come back.

“You were raised by Muggles.”

“Yes.”

“I forgot. You see, every wizard child would know.”

“Okay, so what should I be doing?”

Moody stood and began to explain properly. Harry found Moody quite good at teaching in his own way, provided he kept prompting him to tell him things and stop digressing.

It turned out that the correct Wizard method of wearing a shield was on the back, in the style of the ancient Greek Spartans, according to Moody. Once the shield was secured by some charms, Moody had Harry running around the garden while he fired an assortment of hexes at him.

Although he felt it a little unfair that he couldn’t fire back, Harry had plenty enough to contend with just evading Moody’s shots.

Harry had some difficulty at first, mainly because he kept banging his elbows. Moody explained that the Greeks had solved that problem by cutting openings in the side edges, but wizard shields were weakened too much if they did that.

The trick was to maintain a small gap between the shield and his back. The problem was that the charms alone would not work. He had to use his mind to fix the shield in the correct place.

An hour later, Moody decided he needed a little advantage so he brought out an ancient looking flying broom. Although a little ungainly, he was more than quick enough to give Harry a few scares and they could now extend their range beyond the immediate garden and grounds around the house.

*

They returned to the house for lunch, winding their way through burned and still smouldering rose bushes.

“I still don’t see what advantage this shield has over a wand generated shield,” said Harry.

“The problem is that in an intense fight, it’s almost impossible to keep track of the spells being fired at you. Hexes will come at you from all directions, often from your own people. In addition, a physical shield can often be better than a magical one, especially as it can’t be distracted. In a real battle, Potter, you will be distracted.”

They stepped onto the lawn and Harry looked absently up at the house. It was a surprisingly modern looking cottage from the rear with large windows, rather different from what he had expected.

Then his eye caught movement in one of the upstairs windows.

“Someone’s in the house!”

He grabbed Moody by his shoulder and pulled both him and the broom he was still riding back into the bushes.

“Potter, relax, will you? People will think you’re getting paranoid.”

“I saw movement upstairs!”

“For your information, Potter, I have a house guest staying with me at the moment.”

“Oh. You didn’t say.”

“Can we go now?”

“Sorry,” said Harry, letting go of Moody’s arm.

Moody floated up over the rose bushes but Harry had to contend with the thorns as he walked out. He rather regretted dragging them both into a bunch of rose bushes, particularly as Moody appeared to prefer plants with rather longer barbs than usual.

Once Harry was clear, Moody rejoined him.

“He arrived last night after you went,” said Moody in a low conspiratorial voice. “I think he’d been watching for some time. Watch yourself, Potter. I don’t entirely trust him.”

Harry nodded as Moody dismounted and placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder.

“Good reactions, by the way. He intended to stay hidden while he assessed your progress.”

“Who?” began Harry as a figure emerged from the back door.

“Mr Potter. How nice to see you again.”

*

Harry did not pocket his wand as they approached. Ollivander was leaning casually against the door jamb but Harry was inwardly shocked at his appearance.

Ollivander was skeletally thin and his pale smiling face looked incredibly skull-like.

Harry looked down, not wishing to be seen staring. Ollivander was clearly very ill. Harry wondered if his own hexes had been responsible.

“I happened upon a mutual friend a day or so ago,” Ollivander explained conversationally. “She said you were asking after my whereabouts.”

Harry nodded and said, “After we, um, met last, I decided I would ask you what Dumbledore really asked you to do with regard to me. I still don’t buy the rubbish you told Ron.”

Moody was watching both of them very warily. When he seemed satisfied that they wouldn’t attack each other, he conjured a garden table and seats for them.

“Sit,” he barked. “I’ll organise something to eat.”

Ollivander moved lightly and sat with his back to Harry. He hestitated a moment before joining the wand-maker.

“So, did you manage to provide Pansy with a wand?”

Ollivander chuckled and nodded.

“She was rather insistent. Fortunately, her requirements weren’t too exacting.”

“What do you make of her?” Harry found himself asking.

“She seems rather bright; and scared, of course,” he added at once. “I’m not too sure what of, though.”

Harry decided it would be prudent not to tell Ollivander to much about Pansy’s current situation, although he knew little to tell.

“Pansy said Voldemort was wary of killing you openly, without evidence that you’d turned against him.”

Ollivander shook his head and said, “No, Mr Potter. The Dark Lord would have no problem with killing me. I think he’s even found himself another wand-maker.”

“How so?”

“Well, I had to arrange a little accident for a couple of his sub-ordinates. One of them was carrying a new wand that I hadn’t made. Rather good workmanship, too.”

“Great,” said Harry dryly.

Ollivander snorted and said, “Remember wands alone cannot fight.”

Moody came back levitating a large tray in front of him which he skilfully dropped onto the table.

*

About an hour later, Moody vanished the tray and the remains of their meal. There’d been no beer today, and Harry was sure Moody wanted them both to keep a clear head.

“Alastor? Would you be kind enough to bring out the carpet roll again?” asked Ollivander pleasantly.

Moody grunted and shuffled off back into the house.

Ollivander’s smile faded and he said, “It’s been playing on my mind for some time now. I knew Moody was holding these items for Dumbledore and I guessed he would have been asked to help you understand.”

Harry sat up.

“Understand? You mean, not actually learn to fight with them?”

“Don’t be too hard on Moody, Harry. He’s trying his best.”

“I know that,” Harry said quietly in case is voice carried. “It just seemed so unlikely that Dumbledore would want all this.”

“You perhaps know Dumbledore’s true intentions better than I,” said Ollivander, turning as Moody returned. “Let’s look at these things up on the table, shall we?”

Moody unrolled the carpet over the table.

Ollivander picked up one of the short swords, looked at it briefly and then handed it to Harry. The moment Harry took it, Ollivander conjured three large tins of polish, several rags and a large roll of wadding.

“Away you go, Harry,” he said with a smile.

Harry knew he was being directed to clean the objects, but he couldn’t help but ask, “Aren’t you going to help?”

“Yes, we will help, except not by joining in with the cleaning.”

“Can’t I use magic?”

“We will be, but not for the cleaning.”

Harry looked at Moody who was clearly just as perplexed as he was. Moody shrugged and so Harry rolled his eyes and opened the nearest tin of polish.

“Alastor, do you recall the name of the wizard who wore these items last?”

“Um, Caedo, wasn’t it?”

“Ah, yes. He used to think rather much of himself, as I recall.”

“You could say so,” agreed Moody, conjuring a couple of glasses of beer and some iced water for Harry.

Harry set to work but found himself listening with interest to their reminiscences. The sword he’d chosen to clean up first was very rusty, and there were tiny corroded pits all over the blade and there were several chips and imperfections along both cutting edges. Overall, he really couldn’t see the point of cleaning these items up at all.

Caedo had been a wizard warlord of a sort. He’d gathered an army in defiance of the Ministry of Magic, and had a number of victories. His main source of income was from a protection racket.

“When did all this take place?” asked Harry.

“Oh, early Fifties,” suggested Moody.

“More like late Forties,” corrected Ollivander. “Caedo used the confusion of the War in Europe to gain strength. The Ministry was just as disorganised as now, except then their numbers were so fewer.”

“Why was that?”

“A surprising number of Wizards and Witches joined in the fighting, on both sides. Few families emerged unscathed by the end.”

“Why did they join up?” asked Harry. “I mean, couldn’t they have just ignored the Muggles?”

“Difficult with bombs raining down,” commented Moody. “Besides, Muggles aren’t so different from us when it comes down to it. They were fighting to protect their own from an evil. Even non-magical things are worth fighting for sometimes.”

Harry nodded.

“You joined up, didn’t you, Alastor?”

“Yes, but it was mostly all over by the time I was old enough to lie about my age. I’ve never been so terrified,” he admitted.

“I felt it was a mistake to make all of you surrender your wands before joining the Muggle forces,” said Ollivander.

“You didn’t fight as wizards?” asked Harry.

“No. The current International Confederation of Wizards is an organisation that was created after the war, but its forerunner ruled that as it was essentially a Muggle conflict, then anyone wanting to fight had to do so on the same terms.”

“How many didn’t come back?”

“Too many,” said Moody darkly.

“I regret to say,” began Ollivander, “that I was in Europe at the time. I didn’t hand in my wand. Indeed, the fights I did become involved with were often with, rather against, the Axis powers.”

“Well, it was a long time ago,” said Moody thoughtfully. Harry decided then that if Moody wasn’t too bothered by Ollivander’s admission, then neither would he.

They continued telling stories of their misadventures through the afternoon as Harry worked. By the time he got to the shield, he wanted to ask more questions.

“What was Dumbledore doing at this time?”

Moody gave an amused bark and Ollivander seemed to share the joke.

“Harry, not all wizards complied with the Ministry’s instructions. Dumbledore always liked to break the rules.”

“Indeed,” agreed Ollivander. “I recall on one occasion when he’d cornered me. I can’t remember what I had done, but I reminded him he was breaking the law and therefore he had no lawful right to arrest me.”

“What did he say to that?”

“He said he was fully aware of the law and asked if I wouldn’t mind coming back to give evidence against him.”

“Was he an Auror then?” asked Harry.

“No, he always did as his conscious dictated. If he saw wrong or injustice, he would act, but he still spent most of his time teaching at Hogwarts.”

“Mind you,” added Moody, “he never did break the rule about not interfering with the Muggle conflict. All he ever did was make sure wizards didn’t give any side an advantage.”

As Harry polished the shield, he realised that the animated dog was fading and a dull red was beginning to come through.

“You were there when Caedo finally came to grief, weren’t you?” asked Ollivander.

“Oh, yes,” confirmed Moody as Harry picked up the heavy mail.

Ollivander turned at once and said, “Don’t bother with that, Harry. It’s beyond restoration now and isn’t of much use anyway.”

Harry nodded and returned at once to the shield. He was rather shocked to discover that Ollivander was paying him rather more attention that he realised.

Moody continued once Harry had torn himself off some fresh wadding and began once more to polish the shield.

“To give Caedo credit, he was one hell of a fighter. He was strong and intelligent. Always a dangerous combination, in my experience.

“I was dragged along just to make up the numbers, I suspect. The fighting started at dawn and carried on for about three hours. There were remarkably few casualties, actually. Perhaps that’s why Caedo got the idea that maybe his men weren’t quite to keen to fight as he was.”

“Not too surprising, really,” observed Ollivander casually. “Most had relations on the opposite side.”

“True. I know I had two cousins against us, not that I came across them. Anyway, Dumbledore Apparated right into the middle of the battle. It was a remarkable thing, but everyone stopped fighting to watch. We all moved back leaving Caedo and Dumbledore to have it out.”

Harry slowed his polishing to listen.

“I didn’t really know Dumbledore too well back then. He was a strange sort, as was I, actually. Perhaps that’s why we got along so well.

“Someone next to me, I’ve no idea who it was, made an observation that struck me at the time. He said Dumbledore was never truly at ease outside of Hogwarts. Later on I found this was almost true: it wasn’t Hogwarts, it was teaching his students that mattered to him.

“I’ve seen Dumbledore happy, angry, emotional, all sorts. That day he just stood there, not moving an inch and not expressing any kind of feeling. Even so, you knew. He was like white hot metal. You could feel his power.

“Almost everyone on both sides put their wands away at once. I just dropped mine, I recall.

“If Caedo had any sense he would have dropped to his knees and begged for forgiveness.”

“What had he done?” asked Harry.

“Only the worst thing anyone could do to provoke Dumbledore. He got one of his students killed.”

“Wow,” said Harry softly.

“Exactly. This kid was amongst a group of idiots who left school early to seek their fame and fortune with Caedo. He could be very persuasive like that. Anyway, this boy got caught in an exchange over nothing.”

Harry looked down and was surprised to see that not only was the shield becoming a rich red colour, it also had a faint Gryffindor lion coming through. He busied himself harder.

“Did Dumbledore use a killing curse?”

“Oh, no. Caedo certainly tried using them on Dumbledore, mind. It was obvious to everyone how it was going to end. That day was one of only three where I felt Dumbledore was using close to his full potential power.”

“He’d always been so careful before then,” added Ollivander.

“How do you mean?” asked Harry.

“Well, generally the only people who could testify as to his true strength were, um, dead.”

“He killed rarely,” added Moody quickly, “and he never used his advantage over an opponent. I even saw him yield once.”

“Yes, but he did admit to me, years later, that he’d been rather ashamed of the way he acted that day. Caedo was strong, but not that strong. Dumbledore, probably for the last time, allowed his anger to dictate his actions.”

Harry looked up to see Ollivander looking intently at him.

Harry nodded, knowing that they were at last coming close to what Dumbledore wanted him to learn.

“I think that’s enough for today, Harry,” said Ollivander with a smile.

Moody swore and said, “Look at the time, will you?”

Harry looked up to the sky and realised it was becoming dark.

“I’ll sort you out a cot, Harry,” said Moody. “You can stay here tonight and we can get an early start in the morning. Come and call from the kitchen fireplace so they know where you’ll be.”

Harry followed Moody into the house leaving Ollivander sitting in the garden.

“I’m not sure I should,” said Harry quietly once they were inside. He had been looking forward to returning home to see Hermione.

“Look,” said Moody seriously, “quite apart from the fact he gives me the creeps being around here and I spent all last night thinking I would wake up dead,” he added quickly, making Harry smile. “Look, I think he’ll go if you aren’t here. He clearly feels obliged to help and I’ve a feeling he actually knows what Dumbledore wanted you to get out of all this.”

Harry nodded and said, “I do appreciate your help, you know that, right?”

“I just wish Dumbledore had been a bit more specific. He could be damn annoying like that sometimes.”

Harry smiled.

“Well, okay. I’ll need to call Hermione, though.”

“Floo powder is in the left hand pot,” advised Moody. “The other pot is an explosive. I keep that for crank calls and Floo-sales. You don’t know how lucky you are having a secure Floo connection.”

*

The next morning Harry got up early and continued cleaning the equipment that had once belonged to Caedo.

Before starting he re-examined the swords he’d started to clean the day before. He could have sworn that they had been in far worse condition than he now found them in. The rust pits were far less dense and the cutting edges now looked sharp and even. What had happened to the chips?

He began with the broadsword, which was in quite good condition, and then started on the vambrace arm protectors and cuisse thigh plates. It took him some time to work out how the complicated breastplate and backplate worked, as these were the only parts that were actually articulated.

What struck him most was the light weight of everything. Clearly, they were charmed to deflect hexes rather than a physical assault. He was also surprised there was no calf protection, but Moody had assured him that dragon-skin boots would be much better. He had also wondered if Fred and George’s charmed clothing might not be better than armour, but Moody doubted if the charms would hold up under an intensive attack.

The charmed armour actually needed little work, much to his surprise and he soon resumed work on the shield. This time he concentrated on the reverse of the shield.

Moody shuffled into the kitchen at a little after seven, which was a couple of hours after Harry had begun work. He was yawning widely.

“Morning,” said Harry with a smile.

Moody tried to respond but the urge to yawn again overcame him. On his second attempt he managed to say, "Morning, Potter. Put the kettle on, will you?”

Harry rose and filled the kettle at the Belfast sink.

“Tea or coffee?” asked Harry as the water reached the brim.

“Um, tea,” replied Moody, scratching his beard. “How about you?”

Harry jerked violently seeing Ollivander lean forward out of the shadows at the back of the kitchen. The kettle lid went flying and water sprayed around.

“Tea will be fine, thank you,” said Ollivander softly, getting up silently and moving to join Moody at the table.

Harry retrieved the lid and re-filled the kettle, still shaking with shock. He had no idea Ollivander had been sitting in that dark narrow alcove. He must have been there watching him all the while he was cleaning.

As he fought to control his breathing and concentrate on making breakfast, all he could think about was how it wasn’t just Moody that felt Ollivander was giving him the creeps.

*

The rest of the day was spent once more with Harry running around trying to evade Moody’s hexes. The only difference being that Ollivander made Harry carry the broadsword and short sword as well.

Ollivander himself preferred to sit and relax at the garden table, although he would fire the occasional hex in Harry’s direction if he came within range.

By the end of the day Harry was exhausted and Moody wasn’t that much better than he.

As Harry lay panting, flat out on the lawn, Ollivander said, “I’m surprised you haven’t asked me to explain further. I mean, about my conduct towards you.”

“I thought you’d tell me in your own time,” replied Harry. “Besides, right now I’d be more interested in knowing how to make that broadsword a bit lighter. My charms had no effect and Moody refuses to try for me.”

Ollivander smiled down at him.

“How do you imagine wizards managed in the past?”

“They probably got some gullible idiot like me to carry it around for them,” suggested Harry.

“Some did do that, but most didn’t. Perhaps I might demonstrate?”

Harry lifted his head in time to see Ollivanter reach into Moody’s practise bag and bring out two cricket stumps. He tapped them lightly with his wand and they transformed into two long straight swords, although not quite as long as the broadsword. They were actually rather elegant with thin blades. Harry looked with some envy at how light they looked.

“I’ll use these,” said Ollivander going over to the middle of the lawn. “Now, you’ll notice these aren’t so long and there are two of them.”

Harry sat up and nodded.

“Well, I’m shorter than you, so I need a sword that is shorter. I’ve got two simply because I like to show off. In addition, it is many years since I tried with one and I was never much good anyway. Two is easier because they keep in balance.”

Harry frowned as Ollivander dropped one sword blade down so it stuck out of the lawn. He turned with his back to it and dropped the second right in front of him. Harry guessed there was perhaps three feet between each sword.

“I have been known to lose control, so be prepared to jump out of the way,” said Ollivander with a smile before he tugged at the sword in front of him.

At first the sword refused to budge, and Harry was reminded how weak and ill Ollivander looked. Finally the sword rose up in Ollivander’s hands.

To Harry’s astonishment, the sword behind him did the same thing.

Ollivander then rotated the sword so the blade pointed directly upwards. The rear sword exactly mirrored these movements.

Then Ollivander allowed the blade to fall down whilst at the same time rotating the handle. Then he let go completely and he was then standing between two slowly rotating swords.

He took two steps forward and the swords kept pace. He turned and the swords followed again.

Finally, the spinning swords began to speed up until Harry could no longer see the blades at all and the handles were just a blur.

The blades then began to slow again, but didn’t stop.

“As you can see, one is protected from attack from close quarters,” said Ollivander. “Now, there is a more useful variation of this.”

As he spoke one of the swords seemed to turn in mid-air and rotated counter-clockwise before moving behind him. Now both swords were rotating quickly at his back, each slightly offset.

“Skilled wizards have been known to control up to five swords at a time, although I confess that feat is well beyond me.”

Moody had stepped out again and was watching Ollivander with interest.

“I once met at wizard who could do that trick in his sleep. He had four swords circling around and over his crib all night. Mind you, his tent did usually have quite a few holes in it by the morning.”

The Battle Standard

by Jardyn39

Chapter 12 – Death

Harry slept fitfully that night. He was both exhausted by the day’s exertions and disappointed to find that Hermione had been out when he’d called her that evening.

Finally he succumbed to sleep.

He found himself dreaming he was running around a strange field, struggling to carry the shield and swords as all around him wizards battled furiously with each other. The vambraces and cuisse were uselessly tucked under both arms and he assumed he had already lost the breastplate and broadsword as he stumbled around clumsily.

Suddenly everything when quiet.

Harry looked up and saw the field was clear now, but there was a single line of hundreds of wizards at the edge of the battlefield, all looking at him. They were too far away to make out their faces.

He then felt a presence and turned to see Dumbledore standing before him.

He smiled at once, but he faltered seeing Dumbledore’s terrible expression. His eyes, so often warm and mischievous, looked at him with cold hatred.

“Are you prepared to pay for what you have done?” demanded Dumbledore.

“I, er,” said Harry, almost dropping his sword.

“Will you not even show contrition?”

“Don’t you recognise me?” said Harry, quite forgetting this was a dream.

“I have been too indulgent with you, Harry.”

“What?”

“I told myself that it was their choice to make. I believe in choices, as you know. However, my inaction has cost lives.”

“But.”

“You, on the other hand-”

“No, wait! Please, Professor!” said Harry, dropping the shield.

“Pick it up. You put your faith in these trinkets, didn’t you?”

“No,” he replied, but found himself scrambling to pick up the heavy shield again. “Professor, I’ll do better.”

“More promises, Harry?” said Dumbledore, raising his wand.

*

Harry woke with a start. It was some minutes before he could see anything but the image of his own death at Dumbledore’s hands.

Shaking violently, Harry made his way down to the kitchen. He fully intended to Floo back to Hermione. He would have Disapparated, but he knew he might end up anywhere at that moment.

Harry paused, trying to remember which pot contained the Floo Powder by the fireplace, when Ollivander said, “Don’t forget your wand.”

Harry couldn’t be shocked any more at that point.

Instead he just sank to his knees.

Ollivander came out of the shadows and casually made them both some tea. It was still dark out and when he’d calmed a little Harry could hear Moody’s distant snoring.

*

Harry slumped down at the table as Ollivander placed a mug of tea before him and then sat down opposite.

“You knew this would happen,” said Harry darkly.

“How could it not?”

“What am I supposed to learn from that dream?”

“Very little, I suspect. Of course, I happen to know you’ll do better next time.”

“How do you mean?”

“Simply, that you will have that same dream again. I don’t know, but I suspect that you applied nothing of what you learned today. How did you carry your shield, for instance?”

“I, er, just carried it with my hands. I dropped it too.”

Ollivander nodded and took a sip of tea.

“As I said, you’ll do better next time. You will learn from your mistakes, as will I.”

Harry merely shrugged.

“Harry, I tried to combine something Dumbledore wanted with something I wanted. My motives were entirely selfish, and as a result I failed miserably.”

“Miserably? That’s hardly how I’d describe it. Hermione and I barely got out of that tower in time.”

“But you did get out,” said Ollivander quickly but seeing Harry’s expression harden he went on. “Actually, that situation should never have arisen. One of the idiots building the Arena discovered you were both there and spread the word. I had intended to move you that night but, as you probably gathered, they had other ideas. You had gone by the time I discovered they had gained access to the tower. I would have been back earlier but the Dark Lord had summoned me.”

“So, what were you trying to do?”

“Dumbledore never told me why you were so special to him. Of course, he had a fondness for most of his students. Sometimes I felt he liked the more disreputable ones better than most. You, however, meant something more.

“I wondered for a while if you could be related in some way, but I’m sure you were not. That left only one possibility, that he thought you had a destiny of some kind. I myself speculated upon just such an eventuality in my letter to him when your wand chose you.

“It was also clear to me that Dumbledore was doing his level best to protect you. I almost put this down to the debt we all owe you for ridding us of the Dark Lord the first time.

“However, it seemed clearer than ever when he allowed you to compete in the Tri Wizard Tournament that there had to be something more.”

“It was a binding magical contract,” Harry reminded him. “They said I had to compete.”

“Nonsense,” said Ollivander dismissively. “Dumbledore would have got anyone else off somehow. No. Part of him wanted you to compete. He was preparing you, even if things did go a little awry.”

Harry looked up to see Ollivander grinning at him.

“So,” continued Ollivander brightly, “the only thing I could think of that half made sense was if Dumbledore believed you stood a chance of defeating the Dark Lord a second time.

“I knew I could be very wrong, of course. No-one will be more delighted than I to see the last of the Dark Lord, but I would have been taking quite a risk siding with you if I was wrong.

“That is when I decided I would try and test you. If you lived up to Dumbledore’s expectations, I would help you. If you died, I’d just have to take the credit and throw my lot in with the Dark Lord.”

“So why didn’t you kill me and be done with it?”

“Well, the Dark Lord gave very specific instructions that you were not to be killed, for one thing. In addition, although your earlier efforts were rather pitiful, I could see that you had potential. That’s the trouble being taught by good people, you lack a killer’s edge.”

Harry nodded.

“Have you asked yourself how you could improve your chances?”

“I ask myself that every waking minute.”

“I could tell you now, but you won’t like it,” warned Ollivander.

“Go on, then,” prompted Harry.

“I’ll only tell you if you agree to hear me out. You’ll want to storm out of here, I promise you.”

“Okay, I’ll listen.”

Ollivander cleared his throat and hesitated before saying, “Harry, the Dumbledore in your dream is very different from the Dumbledore you thought you knew. Your Dumbledore had wisdom and compassion to guide him. The Dumbledore who killed Caedo only had power. It really was a major turning point in his life.”

“What are you saying?” demanded Harry angrily and standing up. “You sound like he only became good after that.”

“Not good as such, no. He had done good deeds before then, and a few not-so-nice things. Up to then, Dumbledore never worried about tempering the use of his powers. That’s why he killed so many during the war in Europe.”

“All I can say is that Dumbledore never abused his strength to my knowledge,” said Harry, barely able to control himself. “I can’t believe him capable of using his magical abilities without considering the consequences.”

“Look, Caedo wasn’t in Dumbledore’s league and he knew it,” pushed Ollivander. “That day changed Dumbledore; for the better in my view.”

“Do have a point to make?” demanded Harry rudely.

“It’s time for you to kill a little of that goodness in you, Harry. You must fight and kill Dumbledore, Harry.”

Harry furiously kicked his chair away, but Ollivander grabbed hold of his forearm, his face showing desperation as he tried to get Harry to understand him. There was no strength at all in Ollivander’s grip and Harry easily pulled his arm away.

“Please, Harry. Think about it. Dumbledore in the dream is symbolic.”

Harry took two steps towards the rear door. It was still quite dark outside but Harry needed to get away.

Ollivander produced his wand and pointed it at Harry.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” said Moody’s threatening voice from the doorway, his own wand pointing straight at Ollivander.

Realising Moody must only have been pretending to sleep, Harry wrenched the door open and went out into the cool night.

*

Harry heard Moody’s swearing and loud mutterings before the bushes behind him were pushed aside.

“Ah, there you are,” said Moody. “I woke when I heard you shouting at Ollivander, but I didn’t really catch the gist. Ollivander said something about Dumbledore killing you in a dream?”

“He’s insane.”

“So, what did he say that upset you so much?”

“Well, first he accused Dumbledore of not acting with wisdom and compassion until the day he killed Caedo.”

Moody swore under his breath.

“It just doesn’t match what I knew of him,” continued Harry. “Once before, Ollivander himself told me that Dumbledore didn’t hand him over to the Wizengamot. Was there no compassion there?” he asked rhetorically.

“Harry, I agree with you, but there is one thing,” said Moody carefully. “Think to your own life and experiences. Can you honestly say that you can’t remember any instance when something happened, perhaps something you did, or did not do, that didn’t affect you in some way?”

He remembered at once that last night, when he’d joined Dumbledore in his office. If only he had refused to leave and made his Headmaster stay to defend the school. He could have asserted himself and made a difference, but he hadn’t. This had been the subject of much sober reflection in Harry’s mind and he’d resolved to consider the consequences of his actions far more carefully from then on.

Harry nodded to agree but realised he was communicating the opposite thing.

“Yes, I can think of a few things like that.”

“Well, Dumbledore was the same. That day did affect him. I think he partly blamed himself for what happened before and resolved to do better by his students.”

“Did you ever talk to him about it?”

“I did ask, but we’d both been drinking. I can’t say I remember what he told me too clearly.”

Harry smiled weakly.

“It was the second thing Ollivander said that upset me,” admitted Harry. “He said I was to kill Dumbledore.”

“What?”

“I think Ollivander knew somehow what I was dreaming.”

“What were you dreaming?”

“I was Caedo, standing in the middle of a field surrounded by people watching from a distance. Dumbledore killed me and I woke up.”

Moody nodded slowly.

“He kept saying you’ll do better next time. Ollivander, I mean.”

“Can you describe the landscape?”

“It was just a dream.”

“Humour me, will you?”

“The sun was shining and there were only a few clouds. Underfoot it was medium length green grass. It wasn’t cut short exactly, but it looked like grazing animals kept the length down. There was a gentle dip were we were, so everyone else looked down. Behind the line of wizards were trees. I think it was summer because there were plenty of green leaves. I think there was a fallen tree too.”

“That pretty much describes the actual scene, Harry. Did you see any bodies?”

“No, there were none at all that I saw.”

“Well, that’s different. How old was Dumbledore?”

Harry turned at once.

“He was old looking! He should have had brown hair!”

“How did you know that?”

“Um, I saw Dumbledore when Riddle pretended to catch the creature from the Chamber of Secrets. It must have been just a dream, after all,” he added hopefully, although he didn’t entirely believe this himself.

Moody placed a reassuring hand on Harry’s shoulder.

“Okay, now as I see it we have two choices. Well, you have two choices. We can throw Ollivander out now or we can actually continue. I suppose that would mean you fighting Dumbledore again.”

“There is no choice,” Harry replied miserably. “Dumbledore started all this and besides, Ollivander hasn’t done anything actually dangerous yet.”

“Do you think Caedo’s equipment is charmed?”

“I’m sure the shield is, anyway. That’s why Ollivander made me clean it up.”

“Mm,” agreed Moody. “I’m sorry, Harry.”

“What are you sorry for?”

“I honestly believed you were supposed to learn how to use that junk. I think I’ve been wasting your time.”

Harry shook his head and said, “No. I think knowing how to use those things is part of all this. I just wish Ollivander would be a bit clearer.”

“Come on,” said Moody gruffly. “I told Ollivander to have breakfast ready before we got back.”

*

Ollivander insisted that they abandon the practise set and only use Caedo’s weapons from now on. Moody demonstrated use of the broadsword and Harry had a brief go but could hardly levitate the thing off the ground. Fortunately, Ollivander didn’t seem too bothered by them moving onto the shorter swords.

Harry drove each sword onto the soft lawn just as he had seen Ollivander do, and stood between them. He was amazed to find he could feel the handles being attracted to each other, rather like large magnets.

“Use your mind,” directed Ollivander. “These are not much different from a broomstick. Command them with your mind.”

It took Harry ages before he could even get the swords to rise up out of the ground, but once they began to move, it was easy. Soon the blades were revolving around him at extraordinary speed.

“Slow down, Harry,” said Ollivander.

Just as he said this, Harry realised he knew how to speed the blades up but not down. This lapse in concentration broke the connection with the swords.

One sword flew off and dug itself deep into the lawn. The other narrowly missed Moody’s head.

“I’m so sorry!” shouted Harry, running over.

“No harm done,” said Moody, picking the sword up and handing it back.

“Try again with only one sword,” suggested Ollivander, summoning the other sword back.

“Oh, but,” began Moody, but was silenced by a look from Ollivander.

Harry caught the exchange but decided he ought to try anyway. He was confident he wouldn’t be able to do it since he now understood what Ollivander meant about it being easier with two.

The sword rose up and began to rotate slowly. Harry walked forward a couple of paces and the sword moved with him.

Now for the difficult bit, he thought.

Harry willed the revolving sword to rotate about him, so it was moving at his back. The sword was still moving slowly and he could hear the distinct sound of the blade cutting through the air.

He turned to face the other two. Moody had moved away a few paces. Ollivander flicked his wand and the second sword flew over to Moody. It froze in mid-air, now controlled by Moody.

“On guard!” Moody yelled.

Before he knew what was happening, Harry’s sword had swung over his head to clash with Moody’s sword.

Moody fired a couple of hexes and then attacked again with the sword.

*

Harry was quite exhausted when he finally rested his head down on his pillow that night. At Ollivander’s direction, Moody had gradually increased the ferocity of his attacks. All the while Ollivander contributed the odd hex or two but for the most part stayed out of the conflict.

The last thing they tried was for Harry to resume wearing the shield as well as the body protection whilst controlling the swords. This was just too much for Harry and he was glad when they soon finished for the evening after that.

The problem, Harry knew, was that the concentration required to hold the swords just a little further away was much greater.

The old good news, mused Harry, was that at least Ollivander didn’t seem entirely dissatisfied with his progress, although he was sure Moody had threatened him.

Harry smiled to himself when he remembered that tomorrow it would at long last be Friday.

Moody had promised he could have the weekend off provided he put in a long day Friday and agreed to return early Monday at the latest. He’d originally stipulated that Harry had to return Sunday but he’d put his foot down at that.

Harry drifted off into sleep hoping the weather would be fine for Saturday’s Quidditch match and wondering what the teams would be like.

*

Harry found himself surrounded by the noise of hundreds of people yelling. Almost at once they fell silent and he knew he was dreaming again.

Harry quickly hoisted his shield across his back and set one of his shorted swords rotating at his back before picking up the second. He found he was already wearing the body armour this time. He considered the broadsword that lay by his feet but decided against trying to use it as he’d hardly even managed to pick it up before.

Dumbledore was standing a few feet away, looking unconcerned but still just as angry as the first time Harry had seen him.

Harry decided not to wait for Dumbledore’s torments this time, although he still wasn’t sure if they had been aimed at Caedo or himself.

He charged forward and thrust out his sword, transferring his wand to his right hand the moment he let go.

Dumbledore easily parried the blade with a flick of his wand but Harry brought the sword at his back around quickly. Harry gave a defiant yell as another hex hit him painfully on his arm.

Dumbledore took a step backwards.

The two swords were now rotating around Harry like helicopter rotors and he advanced again to press home his advantage. Raising his wand to fire, Harry looked into Dumbledore’s calm blue eyes and made a fatal hesitation.

Just as the blades were about to slice into Dumbledore, Harry tried to pull back but lost control of the rotating swords.

Dumbledore flicked his wand and both of the swords flew off in different directions.

Just as Harry looked wildly around to see where they had gone, he was struck from behind.

Harry slumped forward, coughing blood. His own blade was now sticking out of the side of his chest and had sunk into the grass under his weight.

He looked up but barely had time to see Dumbledore’s cold look.

He did not see the second blade, but thought he could heard a whoosh the moment before his head fell to the ground.

*

Harry woke fighting for his breath. Instinctively he brought both hands up and felt around his neck, just to be sure his head was still attached.

As he gradually calmed, he realised his arm was still painful.

He got up and staggered to the bathroom. Lighting a candle, he was concerned to find his forearm was badly burned.

Harry washed the wound and then performed a healing charm. Unfortunately, his skin still hurt just as much and looked rather red.

He would ask Moody to have another go with a healing charm in the morning.

The Battle Standard

by Jardyn39

Chapter 13 – Quidditch

Harry arrived back at Grimmauld Place at one o’clock Saturday morning, having finally been released by Moody.

“Hi, Kreacher,” he said, feeling happier than he had for ages.

“Would Master like something to drink?” replied the house elf, picking up the cleaned cups from the draining board. “Miss Hermione has just gone up.”

“No, thanks. I think I’ll just go up to bed. Do you fancy coming with us to watch the Quidditch tomorrow?”

“Kreacher did not see very much of the games when Master played.”

“Where did you watch from?”

“The house elves usually sneaked up to the North Tower provided no-one was there.”

“You can’t have seen very much from that far away! Why not come? A few hours away from this place might be good for you.”

“That’s what Miss Hermione said.”

“You’ll come then?”

“Kreacher will think about it.”

“Okay. Goodnight, Kreacher. Don’t stay up too late, will you?”

“Miss Hermione left a message for Master.”

“Yes?”

“She said, don’t bother trying because I’ve locked the door. See you in the morning.”

Harry laughed and said, “She didn’t really mean that.”

*

Harry spent ten minutes scratching at Hermione’s door and making meowing noises before she finally responded.

“Hermione, I know you’re still awake. I can hear you giggling,” he said, sitting with his back to her door. He was fairly sure she was doing the same on the other side of the door.

“Go to bed, Harry,” she said at last.

“No kiss goodnight?”

“You can have two kisses in the morning.”

“I’ve missed you.”

“Me too, Harry. You still can’t come in, though.”

Harry snorted and said, “I promise not to tell Mrs Longbottom.”

“I’m glad you’re back, Harry. Now, go to bed,” Hermione replied again, but her voice sounded fainter.

Knowing, as he had when he sat down, he was wasting his time, he crawled over to his bedroom. Still, he mused tiredly, it was nice to hear her voice again.

*

Harry woke to find himself being shaken awake by Hermione.

“Wake up, Harry! It’s just gone nine o’clock and if you don’t get up soon we’ll be late,” she added, crossing the room to open the curtains.

“What about my kisses?” he asked, yawning widely.

“You had two at your eight o’clock call and another three at eight-thirty.”

“It shouldn’t count if I’m asleep, Hermione!”

“Hurry up and wash, will you? Ron’s downstairs waiting. I promised Ginny we wouldn’t be late.”

“Five more minutes, Hermione. It is Saturday, after all,” he said, turning over.

Harry smiled as he felt the mattress shift slightly. Hermione leaned over and gently kissed his neck. He was about to reach out for her when she roughly pulled away his pillow and threw off his sheets.

“Hermione!”

“Don’t say I didn’t give you a chance to get up on your own, Harry,” she said in an amused tone.

Harry reached for his glasses just in time to see her flick her wand at him. Instantly his warm, comfortable mattress became as stiff as a board and felt as cold as ice.

“That’s really not fair, Hermione.”

“You are the one who wanted to go, remember?”

*

Harry, Ron and Hermione used the Floo network to travel from Grimmauld Place to the Room of Requirement and from there to the Gryffindor common room.

Neville was waiting for them.

“Hi, Neville,” said Ron brightly. “Sorry we’re a bit late only Harry was late getting up.”

“No problem,” said Neville getting to his feet. “Ginny has already gone down to the changing rooms. I think the rest of her team may be a bit nervous as this will be their first competitive match.”

They followed Neville down to the Entrance Hall, and then out across the grounds towards the Quidditch Stadium.

“Harry Potter!”

Harry turned and grinned seeing Dobby hurrying to catch them up.

“Dobby!”

“Is Harry Potter staying to watch the match?”

“Absolutely!”

“The guest seats are up here, Harry,” said Neville.

“Oh, okay Neville. We’ll see you later Dobby.”

Dobby waved and hurried off to one of the other staircases where a number of elves were queuing.

“Dobby?” called Harry. “Have you seen Kreacher?”

“Dobby has not, Harry Potter!”

Harry waved again and was ushered up the stairs. They emerged in the Staff seating area and Harry went straight up to the front where Professor McGonagall was sitting.

“Hello, Professor. Thanks again for inviting us.”

“Not at all, Harry. Welcome, Hermione. Please, make yourselves comfortable.”

Harry turned and followed Hermione back to some unoccupied seats by the entrance.

“Where’s Ron?” asked Harry. “He was here a moment ago.”

“He’s over there, Harry. See?” she replied, waving across to the opposite stand.

“Where?” said Harry, but smiled and waved seeing Ron and Luna waving back at them from the middle of a particularly rowdy group of house elves, all plastered with rosettes and cheering madly.

Harry grinned and then looked around. Their own stand was almost full now, although none of the other guests invited looked like they were in the mood to yell themselves hoarse. Indeed, most were looking around with looks of disapproval as the students in the adjacent stands chatted and laughed happily.

He realised that apart from Professor McGonagall and a few teachers grouped together in the far corner, he knew nobody else there.

Harry turned back with a longing look over to the stand where Dobby was unfurling a long banner in support of Ginny’s team. He was surprised to see Kreacher there helping too. Hermione laughed and waved back.

Neville leaned forward from his seat just behind them and placed a hand on each of their shoulders. He didn’t say a word, but nodded over to the opposite stand. Harry and Hermione exchanged a look before nodding their agreement.

The three of them rose quickly and hurried down the stairs to they could join the others before the match commenced.

*

“Here, Kreacher,” shouted Harry. “I brought my old Omnioculars for you. You went before I could give them to you this morning.”

Kreacher took the brass device and Harry placed the leather strap over his head before explaining how to operate the instrument as best he could over the incredible noise the other house elves were making.

“Alright, ‘Arry?” shouted Hagrid from the next stand, sitting amongst a group of First Years. As usual he was plastered with Gryffindor rosettes, even though there were no School Houses any more.

“Hi, Hagrid!” Harry shouted back with a wave, rather glad he hadn’t seen him before as he’d have been torn between sitting there or with Hagrid.

“WELCOME!” said the magically amplified voice of the match commentator. “Welcome to the first game of the New Quidditch Cup!”

The entire audience yelled and cheered as the two teams walked onto the pitch.

“Why aren’t you commentating, Luna?” asked Harry.

“Yeah,” agreed Ron. “That’s what I want to know.”

Luna smiled and said, “Professor McGonagall did offer it to me again, but I decided that as this is a brand new competition, we should have a brand new commentator. Besides, she was very keen to have a go.”

Harry grinned and nodded.

They clapped sportingly as the commentator introduced the opposing team, but positively roared their approval as Ginny’s team was introduced.

Seeing Kreacher looking confused at the Omnioculars, Harry took advantage of the relative quiet after that to explain the function of a couple more dials.

“Good luck, Ginny!” shouted Hermione as Ginny and two of her team-mates flew low around the stadium, waving nervously as they spotted friends in the crowds below.

“You okay, Ron?” asked Harry, having expected him to yell some encouragement to his sister as well.

“Look at those outfits!” he said disapprovingly.

“Well, she wanted something aerodynamic,” explained Hermione.

“Aero-what?” exclaimed Ron. “If that means not using enough material to cover herself up then-”

“Don’t be such a kill-joy, Ron,” said Luna. “The rest of the boys in the audience don’t seem to mind.”

This, Harry realised at once, was very true. Indeed, most of the male contingent on the opposing team was also looking on in a trance like state as well.

“Yeah, well I’ll teach them,” began Ron before Luna took his wand away and pulled him back down.

A loud whistle blew and the red Quaffle was thrown high into the air.

*

Harry was quite delighted to learn that there would be a second Quidditch match that followed on from Ginny’s rather comprehensive victory.

“Well done, Ginny!” called Hermione as a grinning Ginny joined them and sat down next to Neville. The teams had changed quickly so they could watch the second game as well.

Plates of sandwiches were passed down long the lines of seats and they all tucked in as they chatted about the match.

Harry held Kreacher’s plate and waited patiently for the elf to finish watching the rest of the match as a slow motion replay through the Omnioculars.

He lowered the glasses and seemed genuinely surprised that the match had been over some time.

Harry grinned down at him and said, “Hungry yet?”

Kreacher nodded and absently took a sandwich, still fascinated with the Omnioculars.

“How’s your Gran, Neville?” asked Harry.

“Oh, fine, thanks. She’s still staying here at Hogwarts, but she isn’t too keen on Quidditch.”

“Shame really,” added Ginny with a grin. “I was so looking forward to showing her my outfit.”

Harry laughed as Neville rolled his eyes and Ron piped up, “She’ll probably approve almost as much as Mum will when she finds out.”

“Shut up, Ron!” said Ginny automatically.

Neville, Harry noted, had the good sense not to pass comment, at least in public.

The second Quidditch game lasted much longer than the first, although Harry thought the quality of play hadn’t been quite so good.

“Dobby has invited Kreacher to stay and help with the evening meal, Harry Potter, Sir.”

“That’s fine, Dobby. Stay as long as you want, Kreacher,” replied Harry at once.

“Will Harry Potter be staying?” asked Dobby hopefully.

“I’m not sure, Dobby.”

“Oh, do stay,” said Luna, getting up to allow several excited elves through.

Harry looked over to Hermione who considered for a moment and then nodded.

“Good, that’s settled then,” said Ginny. “Now, Madam Hooch has let us borrow some brooms to practise with and I’ve sorted out some half decent ones. I think we should rotate, so we each get a chance to fly fast and slow brooms. We might not have the luxury of always having our own broom to fly.”

“Good idea, Ginny,” agreed Harry.

They spent the afternoon chasing each other in the skies above Hogwarts and finished with a competition to see how long they could evade Harry on his Firebolt and firing sparks.

Harry landed again having just caught Ginny. She had lasted longer than any of the others, although Harry was pleased to see that they had all shown marked improvements. Even Neville was flying with more confidence.

Last to go was Hermione using Ron’s treasured Cleansweep 11. She took off a little nervously, but when she was safely away Harry launched himself in the opposite direction to give her a good head start.

Harry flew fairly slowly until he approached the castle and then sped up as he rounded the towers and accelerated back towards the Quidditch stadium.

He now had no idea where Hermione had flown to, although they had all agreed not to venture over the Forbidden Forest or outside of the Hogwarts grounds.

Harry climbed steeply, hoping to use the same technique that had shown him where Ron was. He had been hovering behind one of the Quidditch stands, obviously hoping to stay out of sight. Harry had dived down and caught him completely unawares.

It then occurred to him that Hermione wouldn’t make the same mistake, but she would expect him to try the same thing again.

He immediately reversed course and flew back towards the castle, intending to circle the towers in the opposite direction.

Harry had got as far as the Astronomy Tower when he spotted her flying back towards the Quidditch Stadium far below him.

He turned and dived at once, laughing out loud with delight that she’d been able to keep herself hidden for so long.

Just as he was about to intercept her, Hermione dived off to her left and then immediately right. She climbed at a steep incline and just cleared the Quidditch stand.

Harry then followed her along a dizzying course around the goal posts as the other cheered her on from below.

He managed, just, to catch her as she was about to climb out of the Stadium.

They slowly returned to the ground side-by-side.

“That was great, Hermione,” said Harry, who was still grinning at her antics.

“I was hoping you’d spend more time looking for me, actually. You surprised me when I was flying over the greenhouses. I thought you’d fly on to the North Tower, at least.”

“You still won, Hermione,” said Ron. “You lasted the longer than any of us!”

They spent the rest of the afternoon practising quick take-offs, both running to the brooms and summoning them towards them.

Having missed dinner, they all joined Dobby and Kreacher down in the kitchens for an enjoyable late meal.

Even being told off by Winky for flying so close to the Castle couldn’t take the shine off what Harry considered to be one of the best days he’d had recently.

The Battle Standard

by Jardyn39

Chapter 14 – The Village

Early on Sunday morning, Harry and Hermione bid their goodbyes to the others and walked along the gravel road towards the boundary gates that lead to Hogsmeade. The gates were locked, but Harry touched the adjacent stone wall with his wand and made an opening for them both to pass through carrying their brooms.

Hermione had borrowed Ron’s broom, having promised faithfully she would look after it.

They had decided to fly from Hogwarts as it was far closer from there than London. In addition, by leaving early in the dawn’s half-light, they wouldn’t need to wear their invisibility cloaks for much of the journey.

There was still a risk that they might be seen, but any sightings would be put down to tricks of the light that early.

Unfortunately what promised to be a warm and sunny day up in Scotland soon turned into a cold rainy day in the North of England.

Although they could fly longer in the poor visibility, it wasn’t a pleasant flight until they were almost at their destination when the clouds parted and warm sunlight shone down on them.

“Hermione?” shouted Harry. “See that water tower? Let’s land there and rest up for a bit.”

Hermione nodded and they flew over to the high isolated feature. Fortunately the flat concrete top made an ideal landing platform.

“This is handy,” observed Harry. “It’s getting lighter now, so we should probably go the rest of the way under our cloaks.”

Hermione nodded, looking out towards the horizon in the direction of the Village. She then flicked her wand and dried her clothes with her warm air charm.

“You hungry?” asked Harry. “Dobby gave me a couple of apples to bring along. Actually, he tried to get me to bring a hamper, but I didn’t think we could carry it!”

Hermione shook her head and Harry began to feel uncomfortable.

“Hermione,” he said gently, coming over to her side. “Is anything wrong? You’ve hardly said two words to me this morning.”

Hermione turned to look at him and Harry automatically held out his arms to her. Hermione, though, turned away.

“What is it?” he asked gently.

“I don’t know, Harry. I was going to ask you that.”

“How do you mean?”

“Let’s just go to the village, shall we?”

Harry looked on feeling completely perplexed as Hermione picked up Ron’s broom, mounted and flew off without another word. He hurried to follow at once.

*

The journey that followed was one of the worst Harry had known. Normally, flying brought nothing but a feeling of elation.

Harry flew a few feet behind Hermione, watching her closely as if he might see a sign that would give him some clue as to what was wrong.

He knew he’d spent too much time at Moody’s house. He also now regretted passing messages to her through Kreacher. Yes, he should have made sure he spoke to her in person.

Then Harry’s thoughts returned to Kreacher. He had never enquired what it was that he wanted to tell Hermione. Could Kreacher have said something to upset her? No, Hermione knew Kreacher well enough not to be troubled by anything like that.

He struggled to think back for any sign that Hermione had been upset with him.

She’d seemed fine on Saturday, although he hadn’t spent that much time with her alone.

He reminded himself that Hermione had kissed him that morning, or had that just been to get him out of bed?

Hermione slowed quickly and prepared to descend and Harry, still deep in his troubled thoughts, almost flew right into her. He awkwardly adjusted his course and almost fell off his broom the moment his feet touched the ground.

It took a moment for him to steady himself and remember what he’d decided to say to her the moment they landed.

However, by the time he looked up, Hermione had put on her invisibility cloak.

“Hermione?”

“Over here,” she replied from some feet away.

Harry struggled to put on his own cloak which had to conceal his Firebolt too. He walked over to where he thought she was.

“Harry, are you on your broom?”

“No. Look, Hermione,” he began.

“Get on. I need to confound you for this to work. Tell me when you are on.”

Harry mounted his broom and said, “I’m on. Now how about we talk before we try this?”

He felt Hermione grasp the handle of his Firebolt from the front and pull him forwards. He then felt her confundus charm hit him.

*

“Harry?”

“What?”

“Oh, at last! I thought you’d never recover your senses. I was afraid I’d used too strong a charm on you.”

“Where are we?”

“Just outside the Village, of course,” Hermione whispered back. “I think this is a barn of some kind. The main street is on the other side.”

“So we got through, then?”

“Obviously,” she replied with some annoyance.

“How did we get through?”

“I confounded you so the confusion wards had nothing to do. I also linked our brooms and got them to fly in a pre-determined course. I just then sat back and enjoyed the ride.”

“Why didn’t you need to be confounded as well?”

“Well, I was just determined enough not to be bothered where we ended up. You, on the other hand, would have wanted to fly towards the village. That’s how they work obviously. They can be beaten by simple mental discipline.”

“I could have used mental discipline too,” he replied a little indignantly.

“Sure, Harry. Sure.”

Harry felt an immediate pang at these words.

“Hermione,” he began, trying not to sound too hurt.

“What do we do now?” she asked, cutting across him.

Harry sighed inwardly and accepted that whatever the problem was, he wasn’t going to learn it now.

“I want to see if this really is Torvais. I also want to find out who these people are staying here. I expected this place to be a vacant Muggle village.”

“There aren’t too many people around. We should be okay under our cloaks.”

“I think we shouldn’t wear our cloaks, Hermione. If we do and they detect us they’ll think we are an enemy.”

Hermione was silent for a moment as she considered this.

Then she pulled off her cloak and brushed her hair back as Harry pulled off his.

They then walked around the barn and down the slight incline of the main street that lead down towards the waterway.

*

“I really can’t believe it,” said Harry. “This really is the same place I saw!”

“Is it exactly the same?” asked Hermione.

“Well, almost. There were banners outside each house, but the terracing is exactly the same.”

Two small children wearing wizarding clothes ran past, laughing as they rushed towards one of the narrow shop windows. They stood on tip-toe, straining to see over the window sill as their grandmother caught up with them.

“There seem to be only children and older people around,” observed Harry.

“Yes, I was just thinking that,” agreed Hermione.

The same two children brushed between them as they hurried towards the next shop window that held some interest.

“Oh, slow down will you?” complained the elderly witch as Harry and Hermione shared smiles, making Harry’s heart leap.

“Hermione?”

To Harry’s utter astonishment, Mrs Granger ran outside from the open shop door and hugged Hermione.

“Mum? Whatever are you doing here? Where’s Dad?”

“Right behind you!”

Hermione loosened her grip on her mother and looked around. Mr Granger laughed as Hermione launched herself at him.

“Oh, Dad!”

Harry smiled seeing them embrace but almost at once began to feel a little awkward. It seemed like he was intruding a little and took a step back until he saw Mrs Granger eyeing him.

“Hello, Mrs Granger. How long have you been staying here?”

“Oh, a while now,” she said. “Tell me, were you invited here?”

“Um, no,” Harry admitted.

“Then let’s get inside,” she suggested, taking hold of Harry’s arm and pulling him towards the doorway that lead into the Baker’s shop. Harry winced at once at the pain from his burn.

The shop was very small inside, having only a short serving counter. There were a few loaves and iced cakes on display in the window but most of the bread for sale was stacked on shelves behind the counter.

“Fortunately there are plenty of strangers passing through the village at the moment,” said Mrs Granger. “Hopefully the security detail won’t be alerted just yet.”

Hermione and her father followed them into the shop, still arm-in-arm.

“Come and see where we bake the bread,” he suggested, leading Hermione out into the back room.

“You bake?” asked Harry.

“Well, there isn’t much demand for dentistry around here, to be honest,” said Mrs Granger, closing the door and turning the sign over to read “Closed.”

The two children outside moaned with disappointment, prompting Mrs Granger to open the door once again and hold out a basket that contained three large Belgium buns.

“We had to find something that didn’t require magic. To be honest, quite a few of our neighbours didn’t think it was even possible to make edible bread without magic!”

Harry smiled and nodded as she put the empty basket away.

“Now, show me that arm, Harry.”

“What? Oh, it’s nothing.”

“Roll up your sleeve, Harry,” she ordered. Harry did so and revealed a forearm that was very red but otherwise looked normal.

*

They quizzed Mr and Mrs Granger about the village for some time.

“Well, the village is really just the one street. Most families are camped out in tents just along the riverbank. Security around here is pretty lax, actually. They concentrate security more up the road.”

“What’s there?” asked Harry with interest.

“We’ve no idea. The area is completely off limits to everyone. Most people believe it is a military camp and every now and then we hear bangs and shouting in the distance. We assume they are training.”

“Where exactly is this training camp?”

“We don’t really know. The road leads off towards the other side of the bigger hill, but both the road and the hill are guarded.”

“Have you ever seen anyone you know or recognise around here?”

“No, not that we recall. We appear to be the only non-magical residents, though.”

Mrs Granger got up and opened their small pantry.

“I’m going to have to go shopping if we’re to have enough for a meal tonight,” she observed.

“I’ll come too,” said Mr Granger. “I need to get some more flour from the stores ready for tomorrow.”

“We’ll come too,” said Harry.

“Actually,” said Mrs Granger. “That might not be such a good idea, Harry. You are bound to be recognised and there are more people about now coming back from the training camp.”

“I’ll come though,” said Hermione.

Harry nodded and eventually bid them goodbye as the three of them ventured outside. He watched their progress for a long as he could from the front window, and then looked out up towards the waterway in the opposite direction.

He was about to go and make himself a cup of tea, when he spotted a first floor bay window that projected out over the street below. He remembered his ghostly self telling him about the office his Hermione used to work in.

Curious, Harry put on his cloak and made his way up the street.

*

Harry found himself looking up at the large white painted window that had three sides from which the original shipyard owner, Torvais, had watched over his workforce. It looked like he had an excellent view of not only the village street but also most of the river.

The door below was open and he could hear no sign of activity inside.

He cautiously entered and climbed the steep rickety staircase up to the next level.

The house appeared to be unoccupied, perhaps being unsuitable for living accommodation.

Harry pushed the first door open and found the room with the bay window within. The room was completely empty other than an old desk and stool but would have been ideal as an office.

He walked over to the window and sat on the seat, pulling his cloak off at the same time.

The river was wider than he’d realised. There were only a few boats, but he could see the remnants of the original slipways from which the boats were launched.

A group of swans were swimming majestically over on the other side while closer to the bank several large ducks were chasing lumps of stale bread being thrown into the water by some children.

Down the street, lanterns were beginning to be lit as people returned home for the evening.

He started as a lantern was lit within the room he was in. Harry jumped up and turned to face a smiling figure.

“I wondered when you’d turn up here.”

“Hello, Pansy. What are you doing here?”

Pansy shrugged and came over to the window close to Harry, pausing to place her lantern on the table. He attempted to move but found himself sitting down again instead of moving away.

She immediately sat next to him, rather closer than he felt entirely comfortable with.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said at last.

“Well, I tend to agree. I had little choice, though. I suspect they thought it would be easier if they could keep a close eye on me.”

He turned as Pansy leaned in towards him, a smile playing on her face.

Harry told himself that he would be wiser to stand and just walk out of there.

His legs, though, seemed to refuse to move themselves.

Pansy picked an imaginary piece of fluff from his shoulder but then brushed her fingers across the side of his neck.

Harry staggered to his feet and threw on his invisibility cloak before stomping to the door. Before descending the stairs, he looked back into the room.

Pansy was kneeling on the seat now with her back to him, looking at her reflection in the glass and playing with her hair. He imagined she wore a rather satisfied smile.

The moment he realised she knew he was still standing there watching her, he turned and left quickly.

*

Harry arrived back before the Grangers and they stayed up late that night after enjoying a light meal together. As Harry looked on he realised that Hermione had missed her parents more than she’d allowed him to know.

Although Hermione was still wearing the smile she’d had on for most of the afternoon, it was more the way she stayed so close to either her mother or father that told Harry.

Much later, after Hermione’s parents had gone up to bed and while they were doing the last of the washing up, Harry suggested, “Why don’t you stay here for a while, Hermione?”

“I’d like to,” she admitted.

“Okay, but I promised to go back to Moody’s place tomorrow. I shouldn’t have a problem leaving here quietly,” said Harry. “I may have a problem getting back here, though.”

“Yes.”

“How about you agree to come away no later than next Sunday? Unless, you’d like to stay longer?” he added quickly.

“No,” she replied with a sad smile. “I won’t need more than a week.”

“If you discover a Floo connection, you’ll call me?”

“Yes, but I doubt if there is one here. What time will you go?”

“Well, now would be best, really. It’s quiet and they won’t be expecting anyone to be leaving.”

Hermione nodded.

“You’ll be careful?” said Harry. “I saw Pansy Parkinson here this afternoon.”

“Really? I expect we should expect to see more and more outcasts around here.”

Harry gathered up his things and said as he was about to open the door, “When you get back, we should talk, Hermione.”

“We will, Harry,” she promised.

The wards designed to repel uninvited visitors served to guide Harry safely away from the village.

Once clear, he took off on his Firebolt into the cold night air.

The Battle Standard

by Jardyn39

Chapter 15 – Paranoia

Harry flew back towards London, using almost any group of lights as an excuse to take a wide detour. By the time he got to the London suburbs, he realised he might as well fly directly to Moody’s house in the countryside.

All through the night, Harry worried what exactly Hermione would say to him when she finally decided to talk.

He knew she was unhappy; and he felt sure he was the reason she was unhappy.

It occurred to him that since they had been together, they had never quarrelled. They had both teased each other, but never argued.

Even when they had become annoyed with each other, they had made up quickly.

Harry had to acknowledge that of those times, it was mostly Harry that had been the annoying one. He now very much regretted all those times when he had pestered Hermione when she clearly wanted to continue her researches.

He also knew she increasingly missed Hogwarts and the studies that meant so much to her.

Hermione had given those studies up just for him.

Perhaps she was now regretting that decision.

Perhaps she felt Harry no longer deserved such a sacrifice.

He was sure he didn’t.

How long had it been since he had seriously pursued the remaining Horcruxes? Weeks, he told himself. No, more like months, he admitted with disgust.

It was just the same routine as usual and he was sure Hermione must have realised he was dragging his feet.

Any excuse not to return to Godric’s Hollow.

Even Dumbledore had expected him to have visited there long before now.

When Moody opened the door out into his back garden, he found a cold and miserable Harry sitting at his garden table.

“Since you’re early you might as well make breakfast.”

Harry nodded and went inside, the warmth of the kitchen merely adding to his already dark mood.

*

That night Harry went to bed feeling at once thoroughly ashamed of his behaviour towards Moody and Ollivander, whilst also feeling quite unable to apologise. This later feeling was quite easy to explain, he knew. If he apologised he’d have to explain. Then he’d have to admit that the one thing he had been sure of might no longer be there.

Harry turned over, his agitation preventing sleep from coming despite the fact that he hadn’t slept at all the previous night and had been worked hard all day.

He thumped his pillow again, wishing it were something that could fight back.

Harry decided he would get up and make himself a drink a glass of water.

He attempted to throw off the blankets from his cot, but like everything else that conspired to annoy him that day, they refused to allow his legs to free themselves.

Kicking wildly, Harry fell out of the cot and landed on grass.

Harry blinked in the bright sunlight but quickly got to his feet.

The hundreds of wizards now pointing and laughing at him did not improve his mood one bit.

“Ahem,” said Dumbledore, in an amused tone. “In your admirable haste to join us, you appear to have forgotten to dress properly this morning.”

The laughter grew greater at these words.

Harry drew his wand out of his pyjama top pocket and flicked it. The broadsword beside him flew straight past him towards Dumbledore.

There was a crack and the sword fell in two as Harry turned.

“I’ll wait while you dress yourself, Harry,” said Dumbledore waving a hand down at Harry’s feet. “I’ve no wish for you to suffer any unwarranted embarrassment on my behalf.”

Harry looked down. Before him were just the shield and swords.

“Perhaps you’d like some help?”

Dumbledore flicked his wand and instantly the shield leapt up and banged Harry hard in the back.

He angrily threw the shield off again and advanced on Dumbledore.

They circled each other once.

“I grow tired of this dance, Harry. Allow me the honour of permitting you to defend yourself.”

Dumbledore’s hex and Harry’s shield seemed to be conjured in the same instant. The hex flew off high into the air.

Harry didn’t wait, firing volley after volley of the strongest hexes he knew. Dumbledore defended himself easily until Harry felt his anger grow.

The Kemmynadow’s dark magic surged up inside him.

The difference was that now Harry, rather than feeling an urge to suppress the terrible magic, actually wanted nothing better than to release the dark magic against Dumbledore.

His wand glowed warm as the first barrage of spells flew towards Dumbledore, who fell back a few paces.

Harry’s burnt arm flashed with pain, provoking yet another stream of the darkest hexes. He had no idea he'd learnt so much from the Kemmynadow.

Dumbledore fought back against the torrent of spells, his face now at last showing signs of anger.

Then Harry saw it.

In just an instant, Dumbledore’s familiar features took on a terrible appearance. It was something about the eyes and how his mouth distorted.

There was fear there. Fear where usually there was supreme confidence.

This was an expression of fear Harry had seen only once before.

That was a night when he’d faced another wizard, in a graveyard several hundred miles away.

Harry knew then.

He wasn’t fighting Dumbledore anymore. He wasn’t even fighting Voldemort, whose features he now recognised.

He was fighting himself.

Dumbledore’s face was no longer showing fear. He was drawing himself up, and his features seemed younger somehow.

They each raised their wands to each other and Harry felt Dumbledore’s power radiate out towards him.

They fired at the same time, and Harry became monetarily blinded as their spells crossed.

*

“Merlin’s beard!” yelled Moody at the top of his voice. “We’re under attack!”

“Calm down,” said Ollivander.

“Get down, will you? Merlin, I hope Potter managed to get away!”

“Alastor, we are not under attack.”

“No? Why did almost an entire outside wall, that floor and quite a bit of the roof decide to collapse then?”

“The wall was blown out, not in.”

“So?”

“So, I suspect we’ll find Harry somewhere under the rubble. That is, if you’d care to help. Of course if you’d rather fight an imaginary enemy outside, I’d quite understand.”

“Blown out, you say?”

“Indeed.”

“Hello?” called Harry.

“Potter? You okay?”

“My legs are trapped, but yes, I think I’m alright.”

“Don’t move,” ordered Ollivander. “We’ll come to you.”

“Can’t I just Dissapparate?”

“No,” advised Moody. “You sound pretty shaky, Harry. You might leave more than you intended behind. Just be patient a moment longer.”

Moody and Ollivander managed to get downstairs and began levitating the rubble off. While they worked, Ollivander explained that the most likely explanation was that the walls had fallen outwards. The floor and Harry, having nothing to support them, fell into the ground floor. The roof, and quite a bit of masonry, then fell on top.

“Damn Muggle construction techniques,” complained Moody. “You can’t beat magic built housing, even if it is twice the price. Why did the walls fall out, anyway?”

“I’m afraid that was my fault,” admitted Harry, coughing from all the dust. “I had another bad dream.”

“You fought Dumbledore again?”

“Yes, well, kind of,” replied Harry.

“The boy’s obviously concussed,” concluded Moody, levitating off the last three ceiling joists and a large panel of lath and plaster to reveal Harry lying awkwardly underneath.

Harry tried to push himself up but Ollivander said, “Wait a moment while we check your legs for breaks.”

Moody climbed awkwardly over and ordered, “Move your toes, Harry.”

Harry did as he was told and Moody said, “Good. Nothing broken, although you’ve a few fairly deep cuts.”

They got Harry out and helped him outside to a garden seat.

“My wand?” he said as soon as he remembered.

“In your top pocket,” said Ollivander with a smile, wrapping a rather dusty travelling cloak around him.

Moody came over and handed Harry a large glass of water.

“I think we should get away as soon as possible,” said Moody seriously. “The Floo connection was broken when the chimney fell. Fortunately, the brooms were outside.”

Harry looked back at the devastation he’d caused and said, “I’m so sorry.”

“Tell us about the dream,” suggested Ollivander.

Harry took another deep drink and began to tell them what had happened. He was surprised how well he remembered.

“So,” said Ollivander slowly when Harry had finished. “Dumbledore in the dream wasn’t actually him.”

“No. At first I thought it was really Voldemort. Then I realised, the whole time I was really fighting myself.”

“Well, you can be pretty proud of the damage you managed to cause,” said Moody brightly.

“I’m feeling pretty ashamed, not proud, to be honest. I’m sorry; and not just for all this. I behaved terribly towards you both yesterday.”

“We could see you were upset,” agreed Moody with a wry smile.

“I’m afraid I suggested we antagonise you further, rather than just leaving you alone yesterday,” admitted Ollivander. “Well, I believe I’ll be off before a nosey neighbour decides to report a gas explosion. Harry, I trust I can rely upon your discretion?”

“Of course, but won’t you reconsider?”

Ollivander smiled but shook his head, no.

“You’ve made a good start, Harry, but this is only the beginning. Alastor, please make sure that all of Caedo’s equipment goes with Harry. He will have further need of it.”

Ollivander Disapparated away with a pop!

Harry sighed and asked, “Are you insured for the building damage?”

“Insured? No, of course not.”

“I’ll pay for any repairs, but nothing will be able to replace the more sentimental things.”

“Harry, I’m not exactly a sentimental person at the best of times.”

“This was your home!” exclaimed Harry. Then he realised Moody was probably in shock at losing so many possessions.

“Harry, this isn’t my home.”

“What?”

“No, I just borrowed it for a while.”

“Well, it still needs to be repaired. I mean, this is hardly normal wear and tear, is it?”

“You’d hardly notice anything was amiss from the front of the house.”

“Moody! Half the house has collapsed!”

There was a light bell ring that interrupted their argument.

“Damn. We’ve got company.”

“Could it be the Gas Board already?”

“Too quick and I didn’t hear a van.”

“Hello?” came a voice from the front garden.

“Go and stall him!” ordered Moody.

Harry hurried over to the side gate and opened it.

“Harry! I was hoping you’d still be here,” said Minister Scrimgeour. “Good grief, what has that mad old fool being making you do?”

“He’s been training,” barked Moody as he approached the gate.

“So I see.”

“We’ve just about finished, actually. I was about to get Harry packed off back to Hogwarts. We’ll need the protection of the grounds to finish the last stages.”

“Excellent. I hope the facilities weren’t too basic for you.”

“No, this place has been ideal, actually. Harry and I are most appreciative.”

“Not at all,” said the Minister with a smile. “Was there a problem with the Floo network? I couldn’t get a connection when I tried a moment ago.”

“I had it disconnected for security,” lied Moody. “You can never be too careful, even in a place as isolated as this.”

“Well, you were right of course to take every precaution. Harry, I would like a word with you, if I may?”

“Um, sure,” said Harry, opening the gate and walking through to the front.

“I’ll just go and finish packing up the equipment,” growled Moody before stomping off again.

“Harry, I’ve been receiving reports of a lot more Death Eater activity. He’s up to something.”

“Really? Have you any idea what?”

“The Aurors managed to catch a couple of low level sympathisers. They knew virtually nothing, of course, but Kingsley Shacklebolt is convinced he is about to go on the offensive.”

“What’s the target?”

“The obvious ones are either the Ministry in London or Hogwarts.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s true,” agreed Harry.

“Kingsley thinks there is a third, more likely, target.”

Harry looked up and said, “Miss Alice?”

“That’s right. The Muggles won’t tell us anything, so we don’t know if they are making preparations or not.”

“You’d like me to talk to them?”

“Yes. Find out what you can and offer our help.”

“You think this will be serious, then?”

“I’m convinced of it. What’s more, Kingsley has this mad theory that Miss Alice actually intends You-Know-Who to attack.”

“Well, she’s certainly planning something,” agreed Harry. “Somehow I can’t believe she’s ready to defend against an all-out assault just yet, though.”

Scrimgeour took hold of Harry’s arm and said seriously, “There’s something else, Harry.”

“Go on.”

Scrimgeour hesitated before speaking.

“I, er,” he began. “Harry, this is going to sound a little paranoid,” he finally admitted.

Harry smiled and said, “I’ve been around Mad-eye for a week. Believe me, nothing will sound like paranoia compared to his ravings.”

Scrimgeour smiled weakly.

“Harry, I meant it when I said we would help. The thing is, I can’t help wondering what will happen. I mean, what if she actually won?”

“You are afraid she’ll seize power?”

“Frankly, yes.”

“Well, I can tell you she has planned out a strategy for what will happen after Voldemort. She called it her end-game.”

“Merlin!”

“I’m not about to let her take power, any more than I’d stand by and let Voldemort. Personally, I think Voldemort is by far the greater threat right now, though. I also think Miss Alice may have badly miscalculated this time, although I’m only guessing. She hasn’t let me in on any of her plans yet. I think there’s a reason for that too.”

Scrimgeour frowned slightly, considering Harry.

“I know what you’re thinking, Minister,” said Harry quietly, but before he could elaborate, Moody came back dragging a large trunk with several racing brooms tied on top. The familiar roll of tied carpet was under one arm.

“Harry, we need to be off. Minerva said she’d open the wards for just us but we need to be quick.”

He picked up a small rusting watering can and handed it to Harry. He mouthed, “Make a Portkey.”

Harry nodded and whispered, “Portus!” as Scrimgeour went around them and opened the gate.

“Well, goodbye, Minister, and thank you,” said Moody, shaking Scrimgeour’s hand.

“Not at all. I’m just glad I could be of help. We generally let the place out as a holiday cottage,” said Scrimgeour conversationally, now walking away from the gate.

Harry held out the Portkey and said, “Three.”

“Can you hear sirens?”

“Two.”

There was a horrible sound of more falling masonry towards the back of the house.

“Whatever is making that noise?”

“One.”

“MOODY!”

*

“You’re keeping something from me, Harry,” said Miss Alice with a smile. “Don’t you trust me anymore?”

Kreacher had presented him with Miss Alice’s invitation for them to meet almost as soon as he and Moody arrived back at Hogwarts. They were currently sitting in a tent at a remote Auror camp, considered neutral ground, which was about to be relocated.

Moody had escorted him there and had strict instructions from Professor McGonagall to then return to Scrimgeour’s ruin of a house to apologise and assist in the repairs.

“I’m beginning to question your judgement, not your trustworthiness,” replied Harry. “I think you are in too much of a hurry.”

“People’s lives are at risk, Harry. The longer this goes on, the more lives will be lost.”

“You’ve never been shy about sending people to their deaths before, have you?”

“This isn’t the same.”

“No,” he agreed. “Those times you didn’t have such a great motive.”

Miss Alice frowned slightly.

“You will be in a perfect position to seize control once Voldemort is gone, won’t you? You showed us all how easy it was for you to assume control of the Aurors. My guess is that the Ministry would soon fall into line too.”

“That’s very perceptive, Harry. Most imaginative.”

“The only problem I can’t quite see is how you will retain control in the longer term.”

“Absolutely. I’d need to consolidate my position. After all, what if the Aurors decided to end their co-operation?”

“You’d need some kind of power base. A task force of some kind.”

“Surely, a wizard army at the very least.”

“So, do you have such an army?”

“It would have to be practically invisible, wouldn’t it? I’d need to hide it from both Voldemort and the Ministry. That wouldn’t be easy and I’d probably need to keep them hidden from the Muggle world too. How many hundred wizards and witches would I need to keep concealed?”

Harry shrugged and turned for the door.

“Harry?” said Miss Alice. “If I did have an army, don’t you think I’d want you to lead it?”

“No, you’d want to retain control. That means controlling the leader. You’d have no trouble influencing me. Right now, though, I don’t have the necessary military experience for that kind of role. You know I’d insist that Bear guide me, but I don’t think he would co-operate if it meant compromising himself with me.”

“Go on,” she insisted with a smile.

“That’s about as far as I’ve got, really.”

Miss Alice strode over to him, grinning from ear to ear, and held both his arms.

“Oh, Harry! I didn’t think you’d get it this quickly. You should see them!”

“Them?”

“Yes! My, Invisible Army, of course!”

“Are they located at Torvais?” asked Harry.

Miss Alice smiled before responding. She returned to sit again and Harry followed.

“Did you attempt to visit the camp?”

“No, I came away after only seeing the village.”

“The sentries were under strict instruction to detain both you and Hermione. Unfortunately, you appear to have slipped away before the order came through. Hermione is fine, of course,” she added quickly, seeing Harry’s concerned look.

Harry sat back.

“How many have you got in this army, anyway?”

“Oh, enough to put up quite a fight. We’re currently accelerating the training programme as more and more volunteers join up.”

Harry frowned slightly at Miss Alice’s evasion of his question.

“Scrimgeour told me the Ministry believes Voldemort is preparing to launch an offensive. They think you and presumably your army will be the target. He said they would be prepared to help.”

“That’s preposterous, Harry.”

“Yes, I agree they don’t have enough resources to protect themselves let alone you as well.”

“Indeed.”

“But he’s probably right about Voldemort, isn’t he?” pushed Harry.

“Yes, probably.”

“Look if I found Torvais, then so can he. I even met Pansy Parkinson while I was there. Why on earth did you let her in? Or, did she work out how to break your wards as well?”

“She was invited into the Village, Harry, as have many I’m sure you would deem unsuitable.”

Harry shook his head slowly.

“Harry? How did you know how to look for the village at all?”

“Through my vision of the future. Hermione and I compared the landscapes and histories. We short-listed about half-a-dozen places.”

“I see.”

“How quickly can you relocate?”

“That’s quite impossible.”

“The Aurors have to move camp every few days in order to evade Voldemort. Surely staying in one place is a very bad idea, especially since you no longer control who knows where that place is?”

“The camp has moderate natural protection, although I clearly hoped the location would remain secret for a while longer.”

“Come off it!” exclaimed Harry. “Voldemort knows you now. He is bound to know you planned this weakness. You fully expect him to attack, don’t you?”

Miss Alice smiled and said, “Perhaps.”

“Voldemort isn’t stupid. He may have underestimated you before, but you can’t expect him to do the same thing again. You must assume he knows you are preparing a trap for him!”

“I have ensured that Voldemort receives all the right intelligence indicators. I agree there is always a risk that he won’t act in accordance with our expectations, but that risk should be minimal. His own advisors will lay everything out.”

“He doesn’t trust anyone but himself.”

“I prefer to take a less defeatist view, Harry.”

“I want Hermione and her family out of there now,” Harry said firmly. “When can I see Bear?”

“Why don’t you return with me to the village? You can speak with John and inspect the camp together if you wish. I have nothing to hide from you. All I ask is that you respect our need for secrecy.”

Harry nodded.

“When you leave, you may take the Grangers with you should they agree to leave.”

“That sounds fair,” agreed Harry, surprised by Miss Alice’s invitation. “Thanks.”

“Of course, you will have to assume full responsibility for their safety.”

“I have no problem with that.”

The Battle Standard

by Jardyn39

Chapter 16 – The Train

“This is just insane,” repeated Harry, rocking slightly as the train carriage crossed some points.

Miss Alice smiled and continued to pour them both cups tea.

“I rather like having my personal train to travel about in.”

Harry laughed and said, “Yes, but it’s such an obvious target!”

“Well, we have packed the entire train with enough firepower and explosives to make mincemeat of any attacking force. It is rather a disappointment that they haven’t bothered up to now.”

“Is the train really protected, though?” asked Harry. He’d seen nothing unusual and certainly no sign of the train’s protection other than a small security contingent.

“The only way Voldemort will ever know for sure is by attacking us. He must weigh up the risk of what he might gain against what it might cost him.”

“So while he decides we might as well enjoy the ride?”

“Absolutely!”

The train stopped at a checkpoint about five miles outside the village and Harry was much intrigued by the small teams of camouflaged men who climbed in and out of the carriages.

They generally entered the train for a few minutes and then reported back to an officer on the platform.

At one point he thought he heard, “Third carriage missile battery safeties on, Sir!”

As the train began moving again, he was left wondering what exactly the truth was. He supposed that was the idea, after all.

*

Five minutes later the train stopped again and Miss Alice got up.

“This is where I leave you, Harry. The train will continue right into the camp. Your guide will be boarding here too.”

“Thanks,” said Harry, rising from his seat.

Miss Alice hurried off and Harry smiled seeing John Bateman waiting on the platform. He boarded and there was a slight delay before Miss Alice alighted from the train.

Harry felt the carriage lurch forward almost at once.

Miss Alice gave a brief wave to Harry but was interrupted by someone handing her a small bundle of messages.

“Hello, Harry!”

“Hi, Bear,” said Harry with a grin, standing to shake hands.

“How are Hermione and Ron?”

“Well, Hermione is still staying with her parents at Torvais. Ron’s fine. He’s still working with Fred and George most of the time.”

“Good. So you managed to break through the village security, eh?” he asked with a grin.

“Hermione worked it out, but to be honest it was more difficult to find the place.”

“Mary was convinced I’d told you where this place was, you know?”

“Sorry. It never occurred to me that this place was actually in use today, as it were.”

“You are right to be concerned about security, though, Harry. I’ve been saying for ages we should mobilise the forces camped there. Of course, that would probably create as many problems as it solved.”

Harry nodded.

“I’m rather curious to see what is going on there, actually.”

“Sorry?” asked Harry incredulously. “Don’t you know?”

“Me? No, I’ve only ever seen the village, and that was before the camp was established. I’m known to Voldemort, so it would have been dangerous if I knew too much."

“But you were allowed to know the location?”

“That couldn’t really be helped. You see, it was me who rediscovered the place while on exercise once. The village was completely deserted and in a remarkable state of preservation. We later found out that the place had been abandoned because all the roads were cut off by the railways. It seems there were too few people to bother about building stations or bridges.

“The extraordinary thing is how the place is absent from every map we could find printed after the railways were laid. That’s well over a hundred years.”

“Couldn’t the village be seen from the air?”

“Not clearly, no. The surrounding forests hide most of the tents even now.”

Harry nodded, remembering that he hadn’t seen the army tents clearly either.

“Even so, why did you decide to use it?”

“I agree, it seems strange, especially as most of the civilian residents live in tents on the outskirts of the village.”

“So, there’s something about the village?”

“Not really. To be honest, the village is just in the way. I wanted to bulldoze the place, but Mary wouldn’t hear of it.”

“Perhaps that’s why it was moved to Norfolk,” said Harry absently.

“Norfolk?”

“Yes. The village will be relocated at some point.”

Bateman frowned slightly.

“Did Mary tell you my concerns that the village may be vulnerable? I’ve been worried that she has been waiting for an attack.”

“I need to be careful what I say, Harry,” said Bateman carefully. “I was only privy to Mary’s broad campaign objectives, and an early one at that. I don’t have any specific details and I might mislead you by speculating about her immediate intentions.”

“I wouldn’t have thought keeping you away from the planning and implementation of her campaign was the best thing to do.”

“It has been frustrating,” admitted Bateman, “seeing her stressed out and not being able to help. I have wondered why, but I trust her. Actually, she reminded me just now that my original orders with regard to you still apply.”

“She thinks I need protection here?” asked Harry.

Bateman shrugged as the train drew to a halt.

“How long do you intend to stay?”

“I’m leaving tonight, and I’ll be taking Hermione and her parents with me, whether they want to or not.”

“Okay, we should split up then. I’ll inspect the outer perimeter defences and then make contact with them in the village. I’ll get them out if you haven’t already.

“I suggest you find out what you can about what’s going on inside the camp.”

“Okay, but don’t you want to see too?”

“Yes, but there’ll be too much to see in one day. Let’s confer later.”

*

The young Lieutenant who met them from the train made a valiant attempt at keeping to the itinerary he had prepared for their visit, but Harry felt his assumption that his rank would count for anything with Bateman was rather misplaced.

Bateman took immediate charge the moment he stepped onto the platform, and Harry could tell he had years of experience with making junior officers do exactly what he wanted.

Pembrooke had begun to read a list of security restrictions that applied to the camp and the surroundings and tried to get Bateman and Harry to acknowledge them with a signature.

Bateman, however, just took the pad and handed it straight to the Lieutenant’s Corporal standing with them before grabbing Pembrooke’s map.

“Lieutenant, you and I will inspect these areas here,” said Bateman, pointing down at the Lieutenant’s map right in the middle of the areas designated No Go. “Mr Potter will tour the camp. I assume your Corporal can manage that?”

“Yes, Sir!” said the Corporal, coming to attention.

“Good. Well, I imagine you’d like us to start, Sir?”

Bateman marched off with the blustering Lieutenant in tow and Harry managed not to laugh out loud until he saw the Corporal was also trying not to laugh as well.

They both gave in and laughed at the same time.

“Harry! It’s good to see you, mate!” said Careem.

“You too!” said Harry. “The uniform suits you.”

“Better than my tramp disguise, anyway!”

“How long have you been here?”

“Just a couple of weeks. I’m attached to the Muggle security here. We are responsible for patrolling the outer perimeter and the village.”

Harry nodded and asked, “Have you seen inside the camp itself?”

“No, it has been completely off limits. Come on, we should get a move on before someone countermands my new orders.”

Harry wondered for a moment why Careem was being allowed into the camp, but then he remembered Kingsley had told him about Careem joining the Muggle armed forces but actually being a Squib.

*

They walked along a wide forest path, passing through three checkpoints, before the path began to climb steeply.

Harry asked about the other members of Bateman’s original team that had been assigned to protect him but Careem didn’t admit to knowing what they were currently up to.

“We’re at the outskirts the camp now,” said Careem quietly. “I suspect we’ll reach a point not too far ahead at which I’ll be ordered to turn back. Let’s see how far we can get, shall we?”

“I can see something through the trees.”

“Yes, there are wizard tents all around here, hidden amongst the trees. You can see some of them from our regular patrol routes. It’s tempting to go and look but I don’t think we should depart from the official tour just yet, though.”

“Sure,” agreed Harry, who was now sure they were being watched. “How is Harriet?”

Harry hadn’t seen Harriet Castle since Careem and Hagland had whisked her away to recover in safety after she had suffered under the influence of an Imperious Curse.

“Much better, thanks. I was hoping to get her transferred to stay in the village. My unit is classified as on active duty around here, so although we get days off, we are not allowed to leave the area.”

“That must be hard. Do they allow any communication with the outside world?”

“It’s all monitored, obviously. We can write, but we have to use the teletype. There are no telephones and all the radios are of limited range.”

Harry was about to speak when Careen muttered, “Fifty yards ahead. Low down. On the right.”

“Got it,” whispered Harry, having also seen the camouflage netting spread out on the ground.

“I want to swap over as we go past,” whispered Careem.

They continued on, chatting normally until they got almost level.

“I always have trouble getting my bearings in forests,” said Harry normally. “The village is over there, right?” he asked, pointing in completely the wrong direction.

“No,” said Careen, moving over to the right side of the path and saying, “more like over there.”

One moment Careen was standing casually with his back to the camouflage, now almost impossible to see, when he kicked out.

A muffled cry told them that there had been someone hiding under the netting.

Harry helped Careem pull the unconscious bundle into the undergrowth. Once there, Careem pulled off the netting to reveal a young man who looked barely older than Harry.

“Do you recognise him?”

“No,” said Harry. “Um, should you have done that?”

“I didn’t kill him, did I?”

“They are supposed to be on our side, though.”

Careem searched the wizard’s pockets and pulled out a map of the area. He also produced his own map and compared the two.

“Not very trusting, are they?” observed Harry seeing that Careem’s map had hardly any of the detail shown on the new map.

“Let’s cut across here,” suggested Careem. “We are supposed to report to the CO’s office in the centre of the camp. We still ought to do that, but I’d like to see the hospital tent and the punishment block.”

“Why?”

“Well, you can tell a lot about a place from those kinds of places. The mere fact that we aren’t supposed to see them just has to mean something.”

“Okay, but if we’re outnumbered, we shouldn’t put up a fight. We can claim we just got lost.”

“Alright.”

Harry bent down and carefully pocketed the wizard’s wand and then covered him with the camouflage netting.

They then set off deeper into the forest.

*

“Harry, what do you think those cages are for?”

“I’d have guessed animals of some kind, but all the gates are open.”

“Maybe they use guard dogs?” suggested Careem. “We’ve never heard any, though.”

“They look too big for dogs,” observed Harry, and then a shiver ran down his back.

“Werewolves,” he whispered. “They must keep them locked up at the full moon.”

Careem swore, but quickly composed himself. They were crouched down at the edge of a clearing, overlooking the main camp now.

“Pity we’ve run out of tree cover,” said Careem. “We can go a bit further, following the trees.”

“No, I think we should continue under my invisibility cloak.”

“Okay.”

“Where is it we are supposed to report to?”

“Um, right over on the far side,” he replied, pointing to a large tent around two hundred feet away. “From all the activity down there, I think they must know we are missing.”

“Then we should hurry,” said Harry, pulling out his cloak.

*

Harry led the way and Careem directed him silently as they made their way through the camp. It was fortunate that Careem knew how military camps were typically laid out, because not only would Harry have become very lost, he would also have gone down the main access routes.

People were now running backwards and forwards now, perhaps in search of them.

Finally, they reached the hospital tent. They went around the back and observed that there were currently no resident patients.

Careem pushed Harry on towards another inconspicuous tent, but didn’t look inside. Instead, he directed them around the side and Harry noticed Careen pause beside a freshly cultivated patch of earth.

Careem sniffed the air a few times before they proceeded.

“What?” whispered Harry.

“I’m not sure, but we may have to fight our way out of here after all. I suspect we just walked over a shallow grave, and there’s an open pit ahead.”

“Do you want to get out of here now?”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“They knew we were coming. If they were killing prisoners, they’d hardly leave the evidence around for us to see.”

“True.”

“Anyway, wouldn’t they just transfigure or vanish the bodies?”

“I want to see the barracks and then get closer to the CO’s office. We can decide what to do then.”

“Agreed. Which way?”

Careen turned Harry in the right direction by directing his shoulders and said, “Not even whispering from now on. I’ll speak when it’s safe.”

*

They entered a quadrangle formed by four large tents, each with large entrances all facing into the centre. They could here voices of the people inside the tent and paused a couple of times to eavesdrop.

After listening to several complaints about the food and lack of decent alcohol, they heard something of interest and stopped to listen.

“Is there any news of the attack?”

“No, but the order remains that we are to be ready at all times.”

“It must be soon!”

“Perhaps. It will certainly begin shortly. Perhaps even tonight.”

“I wish the order would just come! I can’t stand all this waiting around.”

“Be thankful. When the fighting really starts, you’ll soon change your mind.”

They heard a laugh, and the other voice said, “The irony of it all!”

“Quiet, fool! You know the orders. We are not to even speak of such things here.”

Careem pushed Harry forward and out through the gap between the tents on the far corner. Just before they continued, Harry felt Careem pause. He looked back over his shoulder and they watched as a single chair was dragged out into the centre of the quadrangle.

Harry made an audible gasp as he recognised the wizard.

Careem pushed him forward again as another bored looking wizard appeared with a bucket of water which he poured over the blood stained chair.

They paused again and Careem gave Harry an encouraging squeeze of his shoulder. Harry nodded, knowing they had to witness as much as possible and then get away cleanly.

They slowly made their way over to the large tent Careem referred to as the CO’s office. This was tricky because there was now a lot of activity around the front of the tent.

They stopped around the side of the tent to assess their situation, and while they did so two people came outside.

One was dressed in a Muggle battledress and the other wore conventional wizarding clothes.

“I think you’d better give the word, Colonel.”

“We’re not ready.”

“Events are about to overtake us. The Muggles have been reinforcing the perimeter all week and Bateman was seen arriving this morning to inspect. They may not tell us what is going on, but it’s pretty obvious that they are anticipating a significant attack.”

“There is no indication that the Dark Lord will order an attack so soon.”

“We’ve always known there would be no notice of an attack.”

“The Muggles are there to defend against an attack from all corners of the compass. The plan for them to buy us time to respond is a good one, if one that may be expensive in terms of casualties.”

“When was the last time you received a communication from Miss Alice?”

“Yesterday. She advised me that she was sending someone to look around and that I was to extend them every courtesy.”

“So what happened to them and young Barlow?”

“I don’t know. I’m still waiting for all the patrols to report in.”

“Surely they must have kidnapped Barlow and taken him back for interrogation?”

“Why would they do that?”

“I say we grab a couple of Muggles and see what we can get out of them.”

“For the last time, we are not going to do anything that will jeopardise the operation. Capturing Muggles and making them talk is hardly showing co-operation, is it? We know they don’t entirely trust us yet, but there is still time.”

*

Harry and Careem eventually got to the opposing tree line and then hurried back to join up with the regular Muggle patrols who were making their way back to their billet just outside the village.

It was a welcome change to move around without a cloak over their heads.

They had only been walking for a few minutes when a fast approaching open top Land Rover skidded to a halt behind them

“Get in, you two,” ordered Bateman, who did not sound like he was in a good mood.

They jumped in the back and Bateman drove off at once.

“Sergeant,” shouted the Lieutenant from the front passenger seat and desperately clinging on to stay inside the vehicle, “we have our orders. I can’t just change all the field positions without proper authorisation.”

“Authorisation?” yelled Bateman back as he threw the vehicle into another corner. “Your first responsibility is to the people under your command, Lieutenant. I’m not saying you should go against your orders. However, it would seem to be prudent, at the very least, to consider how vulnerable you will be. There are always alternatives.”

Bateman was driving faster than Harry thought possible for such a narrow and winding track. Several infantry soldiers had to dive out of the way.

The four-wheel drive Land Rover skidded to a halt outside a large wheeled cabin that had a variety of complicated looking aerials on top.

Bateman jumped out of the Land Rover and turned to the Lieutenant who was looking nervously at the open door of the cabin.

“I’ll take your advice, Sergeant,” he said at last.

“Very good, Sir,” replied Bateman before giving him a smart salute. Careem followed suite but the Lieutenant ignored him, obviously thinking about what orders he needed to reinterpret.

The Lieutenant had driven off before Bateman had placed a boot on the lower step up to the cabin, but Bateman stopped a moment to listen.

He then turned and marched across the makeshift road towards a wider clearing. Harry and Careem hurried to catch him up.

They approached what looked like a concrete base, but Harry realised it was actually a brick building set down below ground level. Bateman went straight for the steep concrete steps leading down to two sentries who suddenly looked alarmed at his presence.

As he climbed down the steps, Harry noticed that the surrounded earth that had been graded back looked freshly dug. There were a few weeds but no grass had grown yet.

The building itself looked new and hurriedly constructed.

“We are not authorised to let you pass, Sarge,” said one of the sentries. His companion continued to look terrified that he might actually have to try and stop Bateman.

“Step aside, son,” said Bateman quietly.

The Battle Standard

by Jardyn39

Chapter 17 – Late for Tea

Careem nodded for Harry to follow Bateman down the corridor. Careem himself stayed behind at the entrance with the two sentries, presumably to discourage them from telling anyone of their investigations.

The brown quarry tiled floor was still wet from recent cleaning and the newly painted blockwork walls were sprayed with drying splashes of dirty water. Presumably whoever was doing the mopping was in a hurry. The air was heavy with a sickly mixture of disinfectant and new paint smells.

The corridor sloped down and Harry realised that they had only seen part of the building from above the ground.

They went through a pair of fire doors where the corridor widened.

Bateman paused again to listen. There were four door openings on each side of the corridor and a single high level window at the far end that must have been just above ground level.

They walked forward, passing the first set of doors but listening at the next.

Harry listened intently.

There was a radio playing somewhere within the building, but Harry thought he could here something else.

Bateman looked back at Harry before opening the door and nodded seeing wand ready.

The heavy door was much thicker than normal and the moment it was opened they heard the sound of quiet sobbing from inside.

“Please,” begged the weak and emotional voice. “I can’t tell you anything. I don’t know anything.”

Two voice activated voice recorders clicked on and again off as he spoke.

The two others in the room had not noticed the presence of Bateman and Harry at that point. One was sitting on a stool with his back to them, hunched over a chipboard. The other, who wore plastic overalls, stood across the room at a stainless steel sink.

The captive looked fearfully at Bateman just as the sitting interrogator looked up.

He turned at once and shouted, “Hey! You shouldn’t be in here!”

The one at the sink turned and picked out a lethal looking stainless steel object from the bowl and held it out in front of him as the sitting man rose and began to withdraw a sidearm.

Harry stunned them both and the tape recorder reels continued to turn while they crashed loudly to the hard floor.

Harry was about to say, “Sorry,” when Bateman indicated for him to keep quiet. He then crossed the room quickly and switched the recording machines off.

“Can’t be too careful,” he observed.

“This is Barlow,” said Harry, stepping over and releasing the young man’s shackles. He was too weak to get up, though.

“We spotted him as we approached the camp and left him unconscious under some camouflage netting.”

Turning back to Barlow, Harry said, “I’m sorry this happened to you.”

“How did you get captured?” asked Bateman.

“I got lost,” replied Barlow. “I lost my map and my wand. When I woke and tried to sound the alarm, I must have gone in the wrong direction. A patrol caught me in the forest.”

“Harry, his fingers have been broken and his knees have been smashed. Can you patch him up enough that we can get him out of here?”

“Sure,” said Harry, “but there is something about this place that feels strange. My stunners just now were far weaker than they should have been.”

“You can’t do magic in the actual camp,” offered Barlow as Harry worked. “None of us can, although it is just about possible on the outskirts.”

“Why not?”

“I heard something about the underlying rocks.”

“I’m going to search the other rooms,” said Bateman, who had been tying up the two interrogators.

“How did you know my name?” asked Barlow.

Harry smiled and said, “I just assumed you were the one being talked about. We overheard a conversation in the camp. I’m Harry, by the way.”

“Call me Thomas.”

Harry helped Barlow to his feet and Bateman was back almost at once with Careem and the two sentries in tow.

The two sentries were pushed up against the far wall.

“Right,” said Bateman. “It looks like this is the only interrogation room in use here. Is this the only facility here?”

“No,” replied the one who had first spoken. “This is an overflow. Most of the questioning goes on elsewhere.”

“How many?”

“We don’t really know. Last week we were detailed to remove the bodies. Then there were about four a day.”

“Are all of them terminated after questioning?”

“No, but some are questioned over a long period.”

“Have any of your own men gone missing?” asked Careem.

“Yes, several patrols have not come back. We were told that if our patrols stray too far towards the camp we risk being reassigned punishment duties. We assumed that’s what happened.”

Silence fell around the room.

“Did you know,” began Bateman slowly, “that you are risking life imprisonment? Even standing by and not intervening is conspiracy. No officer can enforce an illegal order, and there is no way you didn’t know these practises are illegal.”

The two sentries looked down at the floor.

“Now, as we’re clearly outnumbered, I’m going to give you a choice. You can either side with those two,” he said, pointing down at the two bound interrogators, “or us. Remember, I’m not promising you won’t be punished, but you may just redeem yourselves in the eyes of a court-marshal.”

The one who hadn’t spoken at all yet said, “I’ll side with you, Sergeant.”

“Me too,” added the other. “We didn’t ask to get involved, you know? We were just afraid of what they’d do if we refused.”

Bateman nodded and Careem returned their guns to them.

“Were you taken from 217 Brigade?”

“No, Sarge. These are borrowed jackets so we look like we belong with the other patrols.”

“We’re not allowed to mix, though.”

Bateman nodded and asked, “So that’s one good thing. If the lower raking officers had no knowledge, they can probably still be trusted.”

Careem allowed himself a low groan and Harry realised then that Bateman had no intention of leaving without excising those responsible.

“So, what about our young friend here?”

“I had nothing to do with what’s going on in that camp!” said Barlow urgently. “I volunteered to fight against You-Know-Who.”

“Why were you spying on us?”

“Because they won’t let me near the other side of the camp,” replied Barlow at once, completely misunderstanding the question.

“You understand that you are at risk while you are here?” said Bateman seriously. “I need your assurance you won’t do anything stupid and will do as we say.”

“Okay,” said Barlow.

Harry fished out Barlow’s wand from his pocket and returned it to him.

“Right. You can start by making sure those two will be out cold for a while. Then we’ll run through how we are going to get out of here.”

*

Bateman introduced the two sentries as Gamble and Hepplewaite to Harry, saying that as they would probably die together escaping they might as well know each other’s names.

He then directed Careem to go with Barlow, Gamble and Hepplewaite to the village. There they were to collect Hermione and her parents and then make their escape any way they could, but they were not to harm other civilians nor kill military personnel unless they were attacked with lethal force first.

Careem refused outright, having some idea what Bateman planned to do before he and Harry made their own escape.

They compromised by agreeing that Careem would lead the others to the village only after Bateman had, “made his presence felt.”

Once more Careem and Harry followed Bateman up the short flight of steps and into the cabin. Harry noticed Careen quietly slip his small automatic machine gun off his shoulder and immediately withdrew his wand.

Bateman came to a halt just inside the door. Harry peered around him to see that the cabin was surprisingly big. There were three people present, looking over a map table. There was standing room only around three sides of the wide table.

“Wait outside, Sergeant,” drawled the senior officer on the right without looking up. “We’ll be with you in a minute.”

Bateman just folded his massive arms.

“I do hope I won’t have to repeat myself, Sergeant.”

Careem stepped to Bateman’s side and levelled his gun at the three.

Harry stepped to his other side and held up his wand, although he felt this was fairly pointless. Careem more than had the situation covered.

“You Special Forces people really do need taking down a peg or two,” continued the officer calmly.

A wall telephone rang loudly and the nearest officer picked it up quickly. The receiver was at his ear before he realised that it might have been more sensible to just let it ring.

With a fearful look at Bateman, he listened for a moment before saying, “Yes. Yes, he’s here.”

There was an abrupt click as the connection was terminated and he replaced the handset.

The senior officer looked up at last, and was about to make another comment when he looked at Harry and asked, “Who on earth are you? I don’t permit prisoners in my operations room.”

“Sir,” said Bateman firmly. “You are responsible for everything that goes on in this camp. I, and others, witnessed the illegal interrogation and torture of a prisoner. You also may be held responsible for a number of deaths amongst prisoners.”

“So? Going to arrest me, Sergeant?”

“No, Sir. I’m probably going to kill you.”

At this, one of the officers reached for his sidearm. Harry fired a stinging hex at his face at he fell back, screaming in agony. He then hit the officer who had answered the phone with a stunner and he fell heavily to the floor.

Harry quickly crossed over and past the narrow side next to the table to get a clear shot at the collapsed man. He then silenced him, now crying, “I’m blind. He’s blinded me!”

Before the red flash had died away, Harry levelled his wand at the remaining officer’s heart.

They heard thumps as someone rushed up the steps and into the cabin. Careem wheeled around and pointed his gun at his young Lieutenant.

“Careem?” he asked in alarm. The gun was lowered at once.

“Sir, these officers are suspected to have ordered the illegal interrogation of prisoners,” said Bateman. “I’m afraid I need to ask you to take command.”

“Um,” said the Lieutenant nervously, as the remaining officer gave him a thunderous look.

“Lieutenant, disarm these people,” he ordered.

Harry wondered if he would have to stun them both, but then the Lieutenant said, “I’m sorry, Sir. Sergeant Bateman isn’t the only one to bring these matters to my attention. It is my regrettable duty-”

“Your career will be finished if you dare,” began the officer venomously before Harry’s stunner hit him.

The telephone rang again.

It seemed even louder when Harry was standing right next to it. He picked up the handset just to silence it.

He listened and was surprised to hear a voice he recognised.

“Oh, dear,” said the Lieutenant shakily. Then he seemed to draw himself up and said, “Well, I suppose we should make the best of this. Sergeant, it might be prudent if you took Mr Potter here to safety. You may take Corporal Careem if you wish. My Sergeant is just outside and we will take these three into custody.”

Harry replaced the handset and passed on the message.

“We’re late for tea.”

*

Harry and Bateman were greeted by a smiling Miss Alice as they boarded her train.

“I expect you could do with drink after shouting all day. Enjoy yourselves?” she asked with a grin, but then seemed to see that they were hardly in the mood for frivolity.

“Whatever is the matter? John?”

“How much did you know about what was going on?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Tell me about the prisoner interrogations,” demanded Bateman. “Did you order them?”

“Yes. All volunteers have to be screened, you know that. Voldemort keeps sending us spies.”

“How many were discovered to be spies?”

“Six for sure and another twelve possible or probable.”

“What happened to them?”

“Well, three committed suicide. The remainder were transferred but remain in custody. Why?”

Bateman looked at her seriously.

“What interrogation techniques have you authorised?”

“Ah,” she said, as if understanding his concerns. “I know you are sensitive about the treatment of prisoners,” she said gently, “but sometimes it is necessary to use unpleasant techniques.

“The interrogators routinely use truth serums, sleep deprivation and extensive questioning at all hours. They may threaten physical violence and use deceptions to make the prisoners believe that torture is being carried out upon other prisoners.”

“What else?”

“Um, I’m not too sure what you mean. I know that the instruments are often paraded before the prisoners for psychological effect.”

“How many personnel have gone missing?”

“Missing? No-one has gone missing. Well, that I’m aware of.”

“We were told that patrols who ventured too close to the camp disappeared,” explained Harry.

“No. I did read a report about one patrol that got a little too curious. They were posted up on the hill as punishment, but that was a few weeks ago now.”

She continued to look completely nonplussed between them.

“Please tell me what is really the matter?”

“Order the train to make ready for an immediate departure and we’ll talk,” said Bateman seriously.

“Um, of course,” she replied, pulling a cord behind her. It was one of several housed in a brass recess.

Almost at once there was a bell ring.

“The train will be ready in ten minutes.”

They went inside and sat down.

“We discovered some very disturbing things,” began Bateman. “First of all, all of the defensive measures anticipate an attack from outside the main outer perimeter.”

“Well, yes,” agreed Miss Alice.

“The problem is we have an enemy that can Apparate and Portkey and whatever all over the place. Once they get behind the perimeter, there is no defence. The only way tactically to defend against such an enemy is to invite them in. You need to create kill boxes and traps for them to be forced into.”

“Major Otterworthy set out the defences, John. He’s very experienced and has indeed created your kill boxes. He has a separate force inside the camp that will attack from within.”

“Are really sure who they will attack, though?” asked Harry pointedly. “The defenders or the attackers?”

Mary shook her head in consternation.

“Major Otterworthy will explain everything to your satisfaction, I’m sure.”

“He’s in custody,” said Bateman flatly. “Together with his immediate staff officers.”

“Oh, John. What have you done now?”

“I’m afraid I intervened when we discovered a boy from the camp being tortured. When we got there they’d only broken his fingers and smashed his legs. Harry patched him up so we could get out of there.”

“His name is Barlow,” said Harry. “Thomas Barlow. He’s a wizard.”

Miss Alice immediately got up and pulled open a varnished timber filing cabinet that looked just like the train décor.

“Barlow,” she muttered, pulling out a thin file and opening it. “He came through screening five weeks ago. He’s never had any associations that would indicate a connection with Voldemort.”

“Um, he was the one being tortured,” Harry reminded her. “They grabbed him after he got lost in the forest. He said those running the camp didn’t trust him and wouldn’t allow him in certain parts.”

“What do you really know about what’s going on in that camp?” asked Bateman.

“There has been nothing in the reports that indicate anything out of the ordinary. The wizards there cannot perform magic and they continue to be trained in conventional warfare by the Commanding Officer there.”

“What animals do they keep there?” asked Harry.

“Animals?”

“There were several large, open cages. We wondered if they were for Werewolves, since we didn’t see any dogs or anything.”

“Cages?” repeated Miss Alice.

“Careem thought we found a shallow grave too. There was a strange smell around the place and the earth was freshly disturbed, but I didn’t see any bodies.”

“You could be mistaken about that.”

“Yes,” admitted Harry.

“Careem knows the smell of decaying human flesh,” said Bateman darkly.

“We also saw a blood covered chair being cleaned out of general sight, but what disturbed me more was the person who brought the chair outside. I recognised him. He was one of the men who attacked Fred, George and me. He was associated with Ollivander.”

“Name?”

“I’ve no idea,” said Harry. “Ron might know from my description of him.”

“Mm,” said Miss Alice, frowning slightly.

“We also overheard a few things. Someone spoke about an irony, but was told off for saying it out loud. They were talking about the expected attack.”

“Mary, what would be the greatest irony in this situation?” asked Bateman.

Just then there was a commotion out on the platform. A moment later, a panting messenger entered and immediately thrust a note into Bateman’s hands.

Bateman read quickly and asked, “Does the track still go quite close to the top end of the village?”

“Yes, but we never use it because it passes through the camp.”

“It was pretty dense forest around there,” he mused, “I wonder if they bothered to pull up the tracks?”

“You’ve come from the village?” asked Miss Alice.

“Yes,” the messenger managed to gasp.

“I need a runner to get an urgent message to Lieutenant Pembrooke,” said Bateman.

“I’m fit,” said the messenger at once.

“Good man,” said Bateman. “I need a map of the area.”

“Here,” said Harry, bringing out Barlow’s map.

“Okay, tell Pembrooke he’s to withdraw all his men to Point Bravo. He must go in an orderly and quiet manner, and tell him not to bother disabling the guns. We’ll pick him up at Bravo as soon as we can. If Bravo is over-run, he is to make for Echo.”

The messenger saluted and ran off.

Bateman threw the note to Miss Alice and hurried for the door. As soon as he emerged onto the platform he was bellowing orders.

Harry watched as Mary unfolded and read the note.

“Goodness,” she said shakily.

“What is it?” asked Harry.

“The message is from Careem. The Grangers refused to leave without the rest of the villagers too. There are over a hundred of them and Careem reports movement outside the village. He suspects the attack will come through the village. There should be outer patrols, but he thinks they have been over-run.”

There were shouts and the sounds of people running. These became thunderous as the infantry solders boarded the carriages and began to set-up gun emplacements.

“Harry?” shouted Bateman from somewhere unseen.

Harry got up and asked, “Will you be okay?”

Miss Alice was now very pale, but she nodded shakily. “Go, Harry. I’ll be fine.”

Harry hurried off to find Bateman.

The Battle Standard

by Jardyn39

Chapter 18 – Clearing the Tracks

The diesel engines increased in volume as the train left the platform. Harry looked on in wonder as every window now had a gun emplacement in place of the usual glass.

Activity was most feverish at the back of the train where a low flat trailer has been attached after the passenger carriages. Several men were assembling what looked like a missile battery and two machine guns.

Harry turned to Bateman and said, “Bear, shouldn’t the train be going in the other direction? The village is the other way.”

“Come on,” he said with a grin and turning away, “we need to get a move on.”

He picked up a heavy looking back pack and rifle that had been propped against a bench seat. Hoisting the pack on his back, Harry hurried to catch up as he marched down the platform.

Group of a dozen or so infantry were waiting for them where the platform sloped down.

“Ready, Gentlemen?” said Bateman firmly. “Harry, with me.”

Bateman raised his arm up, facing towards the village, and waited. A moment later a figure emerged from the undergrowth a few yards up the track and returned the signal.

“It’s clear,” began Bateman as they set off at a run on either side of the railway track.

The track continued on a gentle bend for a few hundred yards before changing direction, away from the village.

“Change the points, Corporal,” said Bateman.

“Sir!” said someone from the group behind.

Harry watched as two men ran forward a few yards. They stopped and looked around for a moment before one of the dived into the undergrowth and emerged with a long lever.

As they got closer, Harry could see that there was actually a junction in the tracks, only the joining set appeared to go no-where.

“By changing these points now,” explained Bateman, “the train should head away from the village when it comes through. The train will approach the village from the other side, but we need to make sure it can get through this way.”

Harry followed as they set off again, although he was still none the wiser. The tracks where the train would come from looked old and overgrown. He could hardly tell there was a railway track there any more.

As they ran through the undergrowth, Harry asked, “Will the train be able to get through here?”

“These are just saplings, Harry, and the rails themselves are completely clear. They look like they were planted to hide the tracks.”

As Harry ran, be realised that although the tracks were rusty, the sleepers and fixings were all in very good condition. Only the exposed section of track had looked completely disused.

He also remembered that this particular stretch of track hadn’t been shown on Barlow’s map of the area.

Harry was panting as he asked, “She couldn’t have planned all this, could she?”

Bateman didn’t answer at once.

“I think something has gone wrong. She seemed genuinely shocked.”

Harry nodded and they continued in silence.

*

Harry wasn’t sure how far they had gone when Bateman called a halt.

“Take two,” he advised. “Catch your breaths. We’ll need to be quieter and slower from here.”

The others immediately found a stop to rest, but Harry noticed they were all checking their weapons and knives rather than just relaxing.

Harry, having no equipment to check, just caught his breath.

“Okay,” said Bateman. “You four are to stick with the track and make sure no sections of rail are missing,” he said pointing to a Corporal and three men. “You,” he added pointing to four more, “will patrol on the left hand side of the track. Watch out for movement and people hidden.”

He turned to face Harry and the remainder of his men.

“We will patrol the right hand side. That’s where an attack will probably come from. Harry? You come with us but I need you to stay fairly close to the track. If there is a problem you need to fix it.”

Harry nodded, although he wondered what he could really do having no idea how to fix railway tracks.

“Let’s go.”

Harry was astonished that all the infantry seemed to vanish as these words were uttered.

He hurried to follow.

Under the shade of the forest canopy, there was less undergrowth to walk through but it seemed much quieter. Every noise appeared to be amplified, heightening Harry’s tension.

Every now and again, Bateman stopped and held up his arm, for everyone to halt. The third time this happened, Harry heard a clicking noise from their left.

Bateman pointed at Harry and then pointed over towards the track.

Harry hurried back to join the track team and soon emerged into bright sunlight again. They were a few yards away as he’d joined the track too far away.

Hurrying towards them, Harry immediately saw what the problem was. One of the rails had been pushed over.

“Can you lift it, for shall we call for help?”

“No, let me have a go first,” replied Harry. “I’ll lift it up, but you may need to rotate it.”

Harry pointed his wand down and concentrated. He could feel magical sapping properties of the area, but they were far enough away for him to perform a levitation spell on the rail.

“Wingardium Leviosa!”

The heavy steel rail rose up and hovered about a foot in the air. The other four immediately pushed it the right way up and then guided it down.

The strain on Harry was extraordinary and he only just maintained control. The rail clanged as it dropped the final inch or so back into place.

“What about the fixings?” asked one.

“Here,” said Harry. “l think I can transfigure them.”

Rather than attempt to duplicate the complicated bolt and clamp arrangement, Harry transfigured the timber sleepers so they grew around the bottoms of the rails, holding them in place.

“Weird,” said one of the soldiers.

“It should hold so long as the train isn’t travelling that fast,” said another. “We should hurry. The others are bound to be far ahead now.”

The same thought had occurred to Harry and he looked anxiously into the dark canopy. Bateman and his men were nowhere to be seen.

“Come on!”

Harry repaired two more sections of rail, but the third attempt at sabotage hadn’t worked at all. Here, no magic was possible, so they had completely given up after loosening just one bolt.

They had just begun moving again when Bateman and his men appeared a few feet away farther up the track. They crossed over to the other side, each with their rifles held up ready to fire.

The moment they disappeared on the other side, the sound of automatic gunfire erupted through the forest. This was followed by shouts and screams.

Harry immediately made to follow, but he was held back.

“Their job right now is to protect us. Our job is to make sure the track is safe for the train.”

The gunfire was actually over quite quickly, and Harry presumed correctly that the surviving enemy had just turned and run. Without the ability to perform magic, they probably had no idea how to defend themselves.

Finally, they came to the edge of the forest. The tracks continued right across the central wizard controlled camp.

Bateman emerged next to them.

“We’ll have to follow the tracks, but it is very exposed out there. I’d attack when we were right in the middle of the clearing. See how the tents close too have been pulled down?”

“Do you think they have any weapons that work?”

“I think we should assume they have stolen some guns from the perimeter patrols. We know they captured some of our men too, so they could have been forced to construct traps and the like.”

“Why don’t I follow the tracks under my invisibility cloak?” suggested Harry. “You can stay under cover of the trees and meet me on the other side.”

“No,” replied Bateman firmly. “You might not be able to repair the track on your own and anyway they’d know exactly where you were when you started repairs. We go together.”

Bateman formed them into a circle with Harry and the other track team in the middle.

Then they set out across the wide clearing.

*

“Alright,” said Bateman as they reached the other side, “that was unexpected. Either they are waiting for the train or they have gone.”

The walk across the clearing had been tense but totally uneventful. They hadn’t seen any sign of live at all.

“Could they have gone to the village?”

“There’s no point in speculating. Let’s hurry up or the train will arrive before we do.”

The track turned and headed downhill directly towards the village. It wasn’t long before they encountered Lieutenant Pembrooke and a group of men trying to shift a large tree that had fallen across the line.

“Lieutenant,” said Batemen, giving the officer a quick salute.

Pembrooke saluted back and said, “Sergeant, I thought we’d make sure the track was clear. I only remembered a few minutes ago that we placed these trunks here to block the line.”

Harry pointed his wand at the large trunk and Bateman shouted, “Stand clear!”

The men stopped and scrambled to get back.

Harry hoisted the tree off the ground and intended to guide the trunk safety off to the side. However, he misjudged the force needed and ended up hurling the trunk high over their heads. It then came crashing back down through the trees.

“Oops,” Harry found himself saying. “I think I’m over compensating for not being able to do magic back there in the camp.”

Bateman frowned but said, “No matter. The track is cleared. Are there any more, Lieutenant?”

“No, this should be the last one.”

“Good. Let’s hurry down to the village and help get the train loaded. Where are the rest of your men?”

“Call the men down, Corporal,” said Pembrooke.

*

As they hurried towards the village, Harry found himself observing the men he was accompanying. The first thing that struck him was how different Lieutenant Pembrooke seemed. When he had met them from the train, he seemed totally lacking in any ability to command.

Whether it was John Bateman’s influence or the expectation of those around him that made the difference, Harry had no idea.

If Pembrooke had any doubts about what they were doing, he certainly didn’t show it.

This, Harry mused, was no bad thing.

Quite unlike the small group Bateman had commanded when they were assigned to him as close protection in the summer, these men were clearly not Special Forces.

Harry had assumed that all military personnel would be more or less the same. He hadn’t expected them to chat nervously amongst themselves or need constant reassurance that things would work out in the end.

He also had the feeling that they were not quite as comfortable with the prospect of using deadly force as Bateman’s men had been. Indeed, they didn’t even carry their weapons with the same quiet confidence.

Bateman, though, seemed to know what was required.

In the few months he had known Bateman, Harry had thought him happiest yelling orders at various hapless recruits, including himself.

Now, though, Bateman seemed to know these men were afraid.

Even though it would be quite impossible for him to shout at them, it would have been very easy to resort to constant criticism. Instead, he addressed the important things; advising why it was important to carry the rifles in a particular way or keep watch over a specific zone that protected a colleague.

His confidence was infectious, and Harry felt it too.

They split up into small groups and flooded between the isolated outer buildings. Harry stayed with Bateman and they followed the tracks running perpendicular to the main village street.

There was a dull bang from somewhere far off in the distance and a plume of smoke rose up ahead of them above the trees. This was immediately followed by the sounds of automatic gunfire and explosions that seemed to get louder and closer by the second.

Suddenly the train appeared travelling fast. As soon as the engine reached the clear straight length of track, the brakes were applied hard and there was a screech as the train came to a stop.

The rear of the train was burning and soldiers were using extinguishers to try and put out the flames.

Before the train came to a halt, people streamed out from the forest and from between the village buildings. They must have been hiding, waiting for help to arrive.

Harry slowed and looked on, unsure what to do.

Soldiers were climbing down to help villagers get onto the train, although it looked impossible that they would all be able to ride on the small train.

“Harry! Move yourself!” yelled Bateman from ahead.

Harry ran to join him as bright magical mortars were fired high up into the air from a few yards away in the forest. He had no idea where they had been fire from, but he was sure they were under attack by wizards now.

The bright red projectiles climbed up high, snaking side to side until they reached their maximum height. Then they hurled themselves directly at the train with a loud whistling noise.

The first few missed their target, but gradually they became more accurate.

Harry found it was almost impossible to hit the mortars because they were travelling so fast, but he did manage to deflect two.

Now at the end of the train, he destroyed another with a reductor curse. Unfortunately it was one of a pair and the second shrieked on towards the carriages.

Harry turned in alarm, intending to have a second shot when it exploded just before impact.

To his amazement, Hermione was standing on the roof of the last carriage, firing at the mortars. She was managing to hit them with hardly any time to spare and they were exploding right in front of her.

Every time she almost disappeared in the smoke and flame.

Fearing for her safety, Harry was about to run back and help when Bateman grabbed him roughly by his shoulder.

“Harry, we need to buy more time. These mortar things are not accurate and Hermione’s got them covered. They will be getting closer to get within range to use something worse. Come on!”

Harry knew he was right and soon shrugged Bateman off.

They entered the forest side-by-side at a run. Gunfire erupted all around and Harry was staggered by the shear number of enemy wizards headed towards them through the trees.

He held out his wand, but every approaching wizard fell before he got off a spell.

“Cease fire!” yelled Pembrooke from somewhere off to his right.

Harry stood there, his wand still shaking. Not one wizard had got up again.

“What do you think, Sergeant?”

“They were only the first wave, Sir,” said Bateman darkly. “They now know our range and our number.”

There was a green flash off to Harry’s far left and the gunfire began again.

This time hexes came at them through the trees, fired from unseen wands.

“Is the train loaded yet?”

“Just about!” someone shouted from behind.

“Good,” said Bateman, pulling Harry back.

“Fall back!” shouted Pembrooke and everyone reversed out back towards the train, firing and reloading the entire time.

When they got back to the train it had already started to pull away. Hermione was helping to push the last villager up into the last passenger carriage, walking along as the train began to gather speed.

Harry found himself being pulled onto the rear flatbed, but almost fell off again in shear shock as the two enormous rear mounted machine guns opened fire. The trees seemed to just explode into splinters as flames several feet long shot continuously out of the muzzles.

Bateman and the most of the others were jogging along beside the train when a hex hit the engine from the side. They immediately dived into the forest and firing could be heard as the train gathered pace.

Harry looked behind him and Hermione grinned at him.

“You’re hurt,” he said at once, seeing her burnt arm and face. Her robes were charred down one side too.

“It’s nothing. I just let one of those mortars get too close, that’s all.”

Another spell flew out from the forest and Harry managed to deflect it just in time.

“I can’t fire back,” said Harry in frustration. “I might hit one of ours.”

There was a shout of pain as two soldiers operating one of the rear facing guns were enveloped in flame. Hermione leaped forward and extinguished them with water from her wand.

The second gun became silent abruptly.

“Out of ammo!” shouted the adjacent gunner, hoisting the useless gun over the side.

Knowing they were now vulnerable, several wizards emerged from the devastated forest and began firing at them from brooms.

Harry jumped up and fired, savagely cutting down at least four before they fell back again.

Several more mortars whistled by but all missed the moving train. In the quieter moments Harry could hear gunfire from within the forest on both sides.

“Maybe I should jump down and help them,” said Harry.

“You’ll be more use here,” observed Hermione.

The moment she spoke the train slowed down.

“Why are we stopping?”

“I think we are close to the camp,” replied Harry, looking ahead. “There isn’t any cover there.”

Most of the infantry that had followed Bateman into the forest emerged and boarded the train. Bateman came out of the undergrowth last, helping a limping Pembrooke towards the train.

Harry jumped down at once and was about to help Pembrooke up when he spotted movement behind them.

He fired at once but ducked when gunfire erupted over his head from the train windows.

“Harry, get yourself up to the front of the train,” ordered Bateman.

Harry turned and ran as the train began moving again, this time accelerating hard.

Careem was standing in the diesel engine’s open doorway, hanging on with one hand and extending his arm to grab Harry.

Harry jumped up and grabbed the other handle while Careem pulled him into the cabin.

“Go!” ordered Careem and the driver, looking a little out of place in deep blue overalls instead of green camouflage, pushed a lever in front of him.

The sounds of more gunfire reached them but they couldn’t see if the rear of the train was being attacked again.

“Look!” shouted the driver, pointing ahead. “What are they?”

“Giants,” said Harry and Careem together.

Two massive giants were loping across the open camp towards the train.

“What can we do?” shouted Careem. “Those things could rip up the tracks or push us over!”

“Go faster,” suggested Harry, knowing that the Muggle firepower on the train would have little effect on them. He also knew he had little chance of hitting them from the rocking train. “I’ll jump down and try to delay them a bit.”

“I wish I’d kept some rockets back,” said Careem as Harry opened the other door. The two giants were rushing to intercept the train on the other side of the clearing.

Harry stepped onto the ledge and tried to decide when the best moment to jump would be. It wouldn’t be a soft landing, but he should still be able to shoot.

“Harry, are you really sure about this?”

“Not really,” replied Harry truthfully, as he bent his knees and jumped. He rolled down a small embankment and luckily landed in a muddy, foul smelling patch of water.

He heard Careem shout something after him, but it didn’t register at all with Harry.

He got to his feet at once and ran out to meet the two giants.

Behind him, he heard the train put its brakes on. He didn’t look, but knew they must have stopped because of an obstruction on the track or something.

This meant it was even more vital to hold the giants up.

Harry realised that the giants may have been confused by the train’s speed because they hadn’t made towards them in a straight line. They appeared to keep correcting their course which slowed them a little.

He ran towards the closest and fired two warning hexes at their heads. He knew Giants took at little time to come to decisions about things, so he didn’t fire at them properly at once.

One stopped and ripped off a large wheel from a cart. Swinging it around, he tried to hurl it at the train.

The wheel exploded as Harry’s Reductor curse hit it, and sharp splinters peppered the giant.

Ignoring the howls of pain, Harry fired at the second giant who was now between him and the train. He fired three hexes but these bounced straight off the giant’s armour.

Harry ran after the giant, intending to get close enough to use one of the Kemmynadow curses as a last resort.

He also became aware of activity at the front of the train. Several men appeared to be trying to clear the track in front of the train.

The giant slowed, apparently unsure what part of the train to attack first.

Harry caught up and ran past, firing hexes at the giant’s ankle and knee. The giant staggered but didn’t fall. Harry marvelled that he could continue at all, knowing that several bones were now broken.

After a few steps, however, the giant slumped to one knee.

Harry approached cautiously and stood right in front so the giant could clearly see him.

“Yield, giant, and I’ll heal your bones for you,” said Harry as firmly as he could whilst breathing hard. “Hurry and decide because I need to go and help my friends on the train.”

The giant looked at him fearfully through the slits in his battle helmet, but after a long moment he nodded. He removed the massive helmet and Harry then realised he was not an old giant.

Noting that the other Giant was moving away from the train now, Harry stepped forward and mended the broken bones.

“Alright?” asked Harry. “You’ll heal okay so long as you don’t run or jump for a few days,” he advised.

The forlorn giant grunted.

Harry smiled and ran back towards the train which was now moving again. He jumped up and once more climbed onto the rear open wagon.

“Where’s Hermione?” he asked.

“Up the front,” one of the soldiers advised. “She had to clear something from the track.”

Harry nodded and watched as wizards ran towards them across the wide clearing. It seemed hundreds had been chasing them in the forest.

There were then several long whistling sounds followed by several explosions.

Two gunship helicopters flew over them to loud cheers from the soldiers and the exposed enemy scattered in shear panic.

The last thing Harry saw as the train entered the forest was the young retreating giant vanishing in a fireball as a missile from one of the gunships hit him.