Prince of the Dark Triangle by DarkWizardKiller

Rating: R
Genres: Angst, Horror
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 7
Published: 01/03/2012
Last Updated: 02/10/2012
Status: In Progress

What would happen if you woke up one morning and discovered everything you've come to know,
come to understand about yourself, about your life...was a lie! My name is Simon Bane...I'm a
Wizard...This is my story.




1. Prolog
---------



**Prince** **of The Dark** **Triangle**

*Details, descriptions, items and characters of the Harry Potter series are the sole property
of J.K.Rowling, et al and used only within the context of this story and my not be otherwise
reprinted, sold, or used for any other purpose.* *Original characters and plot are mine and my
not be used in any other {for profit} form without permission…*

*Author's Note:* **PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU CONTINUE!!!**

*This story contains explicit* *scenes and descriptions of graphic violence, torture, sex
and sexual situations. This story* **IS NOT** *recommended for anyone under the age of 17!
If you are not a fan of very dark fiction then you may want to reconsider reading it. You have been
warned!!!*

*I have no idea where this tale came from or where it's going but for some reason it has
wedged itself in my imagination. As a result I can't seem to focus on any of my other stories
so I'm attempting to get it out.*

**Prolog**

My name is Simon Bane.

I wasn't always called by that name…I was called something else once. Before I discovered I
belonged to a different world…before *her!*

I scarcely remember my life before I discovered I was a Wizard and that I possessed powers I
could scarcely comprehend.

My life before was nothing more than a confusion of emptiness, loneliness and pain…and now I
know why.

I didn't belong in that world. I was an oddity, a misfit…until *she* showed me the way,
showed me the truth.

It was in the raw power, resolve and tenacious perseverance of this incredibly beautiful and
mysterious woman I found my identity…who I really was…who I am now.

The moment I saw her face, the moment I looked into her eyes I knew I would never be the same. I
knew I would never love another the way I had fallen in love with her.

In her presence I was whole…in her smile I found acceptance…and in her touch I found the
strength to save the world.

My name is Simon Bane…It was a name *she* gave me…a name I can now be proud of.

This is my story…
 Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7
-->



2. Chapter 1
------------



**Prince** **of t****he Dark** **Triangle**

*Details, descriptions, items and characters of the Harry Potter series are the sole property
of J.K.Rowling, et al and used only within the context of this story and my not be otherwise
reprinted, sold, or used for any other purpose. Original characters and plot are mine and my not be
used in any other {for profit} form without permission…*

**Chapter 1**

Byron Humbolt walked into the rear or the Merchant's International bank through the service
entrance holding his I.D. badge up to Maxwell Smyth as he passed.

“Morning Byron,” Maxwell said with a smile looking up through the bullet-proof, bomb-proof glass
of the rear security office, “Looks like it's going to be a fine day today!”

“For a change,” Byron smirked, “Morning Max. I swear I don't know how you Brits stand it,
seems like it's raining, foggy or bitterly cold all the time.”

“Sometimes all three at once my good lad,” Maxwell chuckled, “It's all a part of the
charm.”

“Right,” Byron replied giving his colleague a deadpan look, “Have a good day Max. Enjoy it while
it lasts.”

“Cheer up old chum,” Maxwell threw back at Byron as he made his way into the bank, “nicer
weather's almost upon us. You'll see.”

Byron just waved without looking back. With his other hand he slid his time card into the clock
and heard the loud clack of the printer.

6:45:21

He slipped his card back in the slot and looked at the others. No-one else on his shift had
arrived yet.

*Typical!*

Most of the other blokes he worked with on the security detail at Merchant's International
seemed friendly enough. They constantly poked fun at him for being what they always referred to as
a *`Yank'* but he didn't take it personal.

Chelsea Lyman was another story. She was the only female on his shift and while he had never
said a single untoward word to the woman she seemed to regard him as about the same shape,
consistency and intelligence of *pond scum.*

What made it even worse was that the woman was a total *hottie* but, of course, she knew
that.

He hung his jacket on one of the hooks next to the time clock and made his way to the front of
the main floor.

He greeted the usual service personnel as he made his way through the maze of halls and
corridors of the administration offices.

He inspected and scrutinized every face, took in what they were doing and kept himself alert for
any possible signs of something amiss as he did every day but he realized, with a rather heavy
sigh, today was going to be just like any other day.

When he reached the lobby he made his way to the front security desk and checked in. An old man
named Howard, (who looked like he had escaped from the morgue *after* the embalming process
had been started) and a freaky-looking little Gothic chick nicknamed Benny had night watch.

He had heard the Goth chick had been warned repeatedly by management about the piercings,
fingernail polish and lipstick but apparently, from what he gathered as he approached, she really
didn't take them all that serious.

The girl looked completely out of place in her starched white uniform shirt, crisp blue uniform
pants with creases you could slice fruit with and her guard hat over her jet black hair highlighted
with a rainbow of bright colors.

Byron thought she wasn't exactly unattractive but when she opened her mouth to speak he
realized he had about as much in common with her as he did with a drunken circus chimp. She was
good at her job though and took it serious enough.

She definitely had a reputation as being a hard-ass. He was told she had single-handedly taken
down two thugs trying to rob a service station when she had inadvertently walked in on them after
using the restroom while off duty. He couldn't help but have a rather healthy respect for that
so he played nice with the girl.

She barely even realized he was in the room most of the time.

After the usual pointless greetings and farewells he took his place at the entrance desk and
started his daily paper shuffle. Fill out this log and complete that check list. Scan the digital
displays, yatta, yatta, yatta.

Even though the bank did not open until 9:00 a.m. he was required to remain at the front
security desk until at least one other guard on his shift was on duty. It was company policy and it
made the early birds in accounting feel safer.

The main vault was not opened until the branch manager arrived and then two guards were required
to be present when that was done.

By that time Byron was usually making rounds. He left the vault to the others.

The next to arrive, much to his dismay, as he watched her stomp across the lobby floor like a
pissed-off rhino, was none other than the cheerful and ever sunny Chelsea Lyman.

When she dumped herself into the other seat next to him he chanced a glance up at her.

The woman looked like she had a dark storm cloud hovering over her head throwing miniature
lightning bolts so Byron decided chatting was probably not in his best interest.

Trouble was…she always looked like that.

“Good morning Ms. Lyman,” he mumbled without looking up.

She completely ignored him so he continued to watch the monitors as she filled out her parts of
the logs.

After what seemed like an excruciating ten minutes of uncomfortable silence he decided to start
making rounds. He snatched up a radio from the charger and stuffed it in his utility belt that held
a can of mace, handcuffs, flashlight, nightstick and his Sig Saur P226 40 Caliber Semi-Automatic
with two extra clips.

Chelsea looked up at him like he had insulted her. He turned without a word and walked away.

Most of his fellow security officers didn't go quite so heavily armed but Byron was nothing
if not thorough.

He had realized long ago he would probably never need most of the crap he carried but after four
years in the military and his stint at trying to get into law enforcement had driven home two solid
facts…never leave anything to chance and always be prepared for the worst-case scenario.

Even after two years it still irked him to no end Scotland Yard thought him unfit to become an
officer of the law. It was all due to one stupid answer on his entrance application.

Byron Humbolt suffered from blinding headaches. They made migraines feel like a stubbed toe.
Since he was about 12 years old the headaches had plagued him. They were completely random in
nature and were totally debilitating.

Constant trips to the doctors and several visits with neurologists yielded absolutely no
results. He was completely physically healthy, healthier than most as a matter of fact. They could
find absolutely nothing wrong with him but the headaches were relentless.

They seemed to get worse the older he got, the pressure at times seemed as if his head would
simply explode.

He had joined the United States Marine Corps just out of high school because that's what his
father had done and as far as Bryon was concerned, his father was his hero.

During his four years the headaches seemed to lessen to a minor degree. He attributed that to
all the physical hard work he was subjected to constantly so he threw himself into his duties with
relish. He climbed to the rank of First Lieutenant and was relatively content with his roll. He was
even tossing around the idea of staying in for a while.

But as fate and his perceived constant bad luck would have it things didn't turn out like he
had expected.

On routine petrol just outside a camp while in Afghanistan, his convoy was hit by several nasty
road-side bombs that fragged several of the lesser armored vehicles. His lead Hum-Vee had been one
of them.

He had taken a two and a half inch bolt through the mid-section and it took out one of his
kidneys. Another sharp piece of metal went right through his Kevlar into his left shoulder severing
some major tendons.

A fraction of an inch one way or the other and it would have severed a major artery and he would
be wearing a pair of big white wings and a halo…or at least he liked to think he would have been
anyway.

At that point, his military career was pretty much over.

After some painful rehabilitation his life was hit with another major tragedy. His father died
of sudden and completely unexpected heart failure. It had devastated him and his mother.

His father had met her during his own time in the Marines. She had grown up and spent most her
life in Reading, England but decided to move to the states after she had fallen head-over-heels in
love with her *`Yank.'*

Byron loved his mother and father and his youth was a relatively normal one…with the exception
of his stupid headaches.

He had visited England several times to visit his mother's family. There wasn't much
left. Only his grandmother and a few Aunts, Uncles and cousins were left even when he was young but
he loved visiting his Grandmother in the *Old Country*, as his father had once called it.

After his father's death his mother didn't want to stay in America any longer. Her
mother was aging and she really didn't have that many friends to speak of. She let Byron
choose. She would have stayed for him but he saw how unhappy she was without his father so he
retuned with her.

After he was discharged with honors from the Marines he returned to England and had been there
ever since.

Now, as he turned a corner of a hallway on his rounds in the high-brow and very well-respected
financial institutions in all of the United Kingdom, Byron Humbolt felt his life had fallen into a
deep rut of solitude and mundane self-inflicted isolation.

He didn't have any friends to speak of, he never had. The whole male bonding thing had never
really worked for him. He had been rather shy as a child and the problems with his headaches just
exacerbated the situation so he was never really able to make any lasting connections.

He wasn't ugly. At 5' 10” tall with a solid athletic build, as a result of a long
rehabilitation and constant weight training after he got out of the military, he had been told by
more than a few girls they had thought him rather handsome, he just never seemed to be able to
connect with any of them for some reason.

At 29 years old he could count his relationships with the opposite sex on one hand and his
physical encounters with them on two fingers. It wasn't that he didn't like women - He
*loved* them. He considered women who were attractive and slender like fine works of art but
he never seemed to be able to open up and be himself around them.

He found most of the women he encountered on a daily basis rather…intimidating. He knew it was
stupid but…

He also had a very dark and deep fear that he didn't really belong. He simply didn't fit
into the everyday world he was constantly a part of.

It was something he had never told anyone because it made him feel foolish. He had no idea where
it came from but he knew, deep inside, it was true. There was something about him that was
different…something terribly *wrong* with him.

Things happened to him…strange things he could not explain. It always seemed to happen around
the time he would get his brain-bending headaches.

He would find items had been moved around in his room or missing altogether. He would find
himself in a completely different location without ever knowing how he got there.

One of his worst memories was when he was fifteen, not long after his father died. It was his
birthday.

He had been in bed shaking, burning up with fever from the effects of his headache. His mother
had just left his room after putting a cold cloth on his head.

He remembered feeling horrible watching his mother's tears knowing there was nothing she
could do for her son's unendurable condition.

He wanted so badly to make it stop, to make the pain go away so it wouldn't hurt her any
more. He hated to see her cry more than anything in the world.

When he closed his eyes he felt a sudden but unmistakable shift and felt like a human tube of
toothpaste someone was squeezing way too hard. When he opened his eyes he was lying on the roof of
their house starring up at a night sky full of stars.

He freaked out as he tried to scramble to his feet but realized he was still very weak. He
looked down at himself and saw he was still wearing his sweat-soaked pajamas but as he stood there,
the cool night air chilling him to the bone he suddenly realized the pain in his head had eased…it
had eased a lot!

He put his hand to his forehead and marveled at the change but he was still horribly
confused.

After finally finding a way to get down off the roof he snuck back inside the house and up to
his room without his mother being the wiser to what had just transpired. Bryon was stunned
speechless for days after.

There had been other things as well, things that had not been so remarkable, things that made
him loath himself at times.

He had gotten into a fight at with some kids at school one time. One of the older punks was
selling drugs to some of the other students. Byron hated the kid but didn't want to be branded
a snitch either so he just tried to ignore it.

One day in the lunchroom the punk decided to turn his nasty attitude on Byron for no apparent
reason. This guy always seemed to be surrounded by a gang of dopy kids just like him but that
afternoon Byron had snapped. He had been fighting the intense pressure building in his head and he
knew he was just a day or so away from another blinding headache.

Standing in front of the kid Byron remembered feeling like something was building up inside him.
He knew it was probably just his anger but it had felt almost like a living thing coming to life.
His head suddenly felt like it would just split open right there in the middle of the lunchroom. He
had clamped his eyes shut gritting his teeth against the blinding pain.

It was as if he was suddenly surrounded by a hurricane of wind. It howled loudly in his ears in
a deafening roar. When he opened his eyes the three boys menacing him had been thrown like rag
dolls and were literally stuffed under a lunch table in a tangle of arms and legs moaning like they
had been beaten to a pulp.

The tables on either side of him had been moved sideways like they had been physically picked up
and shoved aside away from him.

All the students, the ones who hadn't fled in terror, were now standing around the outer
perimeter of the lunchroom gawking, starring and whispering to one another behind their hands.

When the Assistant Principal showed up all fingers pointed to Byron standing quite alone in the
midst of the carnage. After a brief interrogation his mother was summoned and Byron had been
suspended for three days. She was not happy with him at all and grounded him for a month. He really
didn't care all that much. It wasn't like he had a social life.

What amazed him was that after what had happened in the lunchroom he had no pain in his head at
all for over two weeks after. It was the best he had felt in years…and he had no idea why.

The word had spread very quickly that Byron Humbolt was a *total freak!* The few friends he
did have shunned him like the plague after that so he wasn't at all disappointed when his
mother wanted to move back to the U.K.

Byron couldn't get on the plane fast enough.
 Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7
-->



3. Chapter 2
------------



**Prince of the Dark Triangle**

*Details, descriptions, items and characters of the Harry Potter series are the sole property
of J.K.Rowling, et al and used only within the context of this story and my not be otherwise
reprinted, sold, or used for any other purpose. Original characters and plot are mine and my not be
used in any other {for profit} form without permission…*

**Chapter 2**

The week at Merchants Bank passed just like any other since Byron started working for Prestige
Security Inc.

It wasn't what he wanted but since he liked to eat and pay his bills he had settled for what
he had thought was the next best thing.

Even though his fellow security lads were nice enough to him most of the time he kept his
distance. It was something that had become habit. The thought of someone finding out he
was…*different* or *strange* was a constant albatross so most of the time he kept to
himself.

He was friendly enough to others. It was unavoidable in his line of work but he didn't have
close friends.

He knew he had gotten the position on the security firm basically on his military record alone.
The letter of recommendation from his former C.O. hadn't helped either and apparently the word
had spread…decorated war veteran and recipient of a Purple Heart.

Many of those he worked with had seemed to respect him but most times it was just from a
distance. He was still a *bloody Yank* after all.

Byron didn't think all that much about it. He tried to be proud of his life as a marine but
it had not translated into the type of success he had thought it might after he had healed.

After two years with Prestige he had made first shift which, when asked of any other employee,
was like a reward in and of itself.

A fellow guard named Phillip Dresden was about the only one who really tried to get close to
Byron. He was a bit older, in his mid thirties. He was married and had two rambunctious boys he
loved to brag about constantly.

Byron spotted Phillip waving him over that Thursday afternoon. He was on front entrance duty
that day.

“Say listen,” Philip smiled, “Some of us are getting together for a night out this Friday, just
us lads. Even got permission from the little wife,” he beamed, “Big football game on the telly, so
what say, you in?”

When Byron hesitated Philip pressed.

“Oh come on lad,” he quipped, “I hope you don't take all that Yank drivel to heart do you?
We're just having you on, I hope you know.”

“Yah,” Byron grinned, “I know,” but then Byron decided *why not**…a few pints and some
laughs. Sounds like just what the doctor ordered,* “Alright, I'm in.”

“Tha's the spirit,” Philip beamed. Byron couldn't help but like the guy.

That Friday evening Byron found himself having a few beers with some of the guys he worked with.
He felt the guys were extending the hand of friendship so he decided to take them up on the
offer.

The pub was quaint and homey and the guys really were trying to include him in the conversation
so he found himself relaxing and began enjoying himself.

What started as a serious attempt at watching a soccer match between Spain and England sort of
morphed into what became more like a small celebration. What they were celebrating was anyone's
guess but Byron quickly found himself being swept up in it.

He was having fun just being a part of the group being silly and talking about things
unimportant. They relentlessly poked fun at Byron but he didn't take it personal. He laughed
right along with them and they began to see him as a very personable bloke.

One of the guys spotted three rather attractive young ladies eyeballing their group and
whispered to Byron telling him he might just get lucky. Byron laughed shoving on his mate in jest
but then his fellow got up, pulling Byron by the collar and towed him rather reluctantly over to
the table where the young ladies were sitting and introduced themselves. Byron was trying hard not
be shy but he knew he wasn't as open and friendly as his friend.

His mate invited the ladies to join them and they did so willingly, acting rather excited at the
prospect tittering like little birds.

When they all settled and ordered another round of drinks everyone introduced themselves. Byron
found himself loosening up and was having one of the most wonderful times of his life that he could
remember.

The guys he worked with were all very decent guys, friendly and happy. The conversation was
light and cheerful and Byron found himself marveling in the ease which these people, some he barely
knew and some he had never seen before that night were so at ease with one another, as if they had
known one another all their lives. He was eating it up. He couldn't stop smiling.

“Blimey, Byron, I don't think I've ever seen you smile this much since I met you mate,”
Philip said laughing, “Better be careful there or someone just might think you're up to some
kind of mischief my good man.”

Byron couldn't help but laugh loudly, holding up his mug of Guinness saying, “Cheers you
dodgy old tosspot!” in a horrible English accent.

That cracked everybody up like crazy having a raucous go at him for that one.

At one point in the evening he quite unexpectedly found himself having a rather intimate
conversation with one of the girls.

She was pretty with blond hair, blue eyes and the cutest dimples he had ever seen. She
wasn't astoundingly gorgeous and a bit on the plump side but she was as sweet as she could be
and when she smiled it seemed to light up the entire pub.

Byron liked her very much and he was beginning to think the attraction might be mutual. He was
doing his best to be a perfect gentleman and she seemed to be responding. They had made eye contact
a few times for a bit longer than Byron thought normal and it seemed to warm him all over. He
couldn't help but smile. She smiled right back.

One of the guys made a crack about the *`Yank'* once again and Byron was about to fire
something back when a rather large, burly bloke at the bar cut into the conversation in a most
unwelcome fashion.

Words were exchanged and Byron, trying not to be the one to cause trouble remained silent and
attempted, albeit unsuccessfully, to look invisible but the Guinness was talking and before he knew
it the burly bloke was standing at the table running his mouth.

He was drunk and being loud and obnoxious. He stuck his big finger in Byron's face having a
go at the U.S. at his expense.

Byron just let it go but when the guy's eyes turned to his fair blond-haired companion, one
of his big hands wound its way around the girl's neck. She did not like being pawed and tried
to shrug him off. That was when Byron had had enough.

He slowly stood up and told the big bloke to back the fuck off and leave the girl alone.

The bloke just laughed and grinned at Byron. Everyone else sat silent and still watching. One of
the other girls was trying to defuse the situation by pleading with the big lug to go back to the
bar and leave them be but he wasn't going to play. His eyes were locked on Byron.

The blond girl tried to wedge herself between them but the big man just shoved her back into her
seat. Byron stepped forward about to take a swing at the jerk when something completely unexpected
happened.

All Byron could remember was feeling terribly angry that the guy had stuck his big fat mug into
what was one of the best times he had ever had. He wanted to *kill* the bastard for being so
inconsiderate and rude. When he had snapped back into himself he had realized the big bruit was no
longer standing in front of him.

In a strange wave of pure power the guy had been literally punched clear across the pub and his
body smashed into an old-fashioned juke box against the back wall. The most remarkable thing about
it was…Byron had never touched him.

When what had happened finally sunk in to the rest of them they all moved away from Byron, the
blond girl looked completely terrified and he noticed she had moved to the other side of the table
and stood in a huddle with the other two girls looking at him like he had sprouted another
head.

There was dead silence as Byron's shocked gaze swept around the table. The party was over
and he knew it.

The owner and bartender came out from behind the bar raising three different kinds of hell that
his place had been torn up. It wasn't much longer after that the authorities showed up.

They quickly determined the guy who ended up in the jukebox was dead from a broken neck.

Byron suddenly felt sick. He wanted to vomit and run…or maybe run first then vomit. It was a
toss-up. He just slumped back in his chair and waited looking at his hands. He knew it was going to
be a long night.

---@>---

Rebecca Dooley, the operator sitting at a communications console and elaborate graphic computer
system at the compound set up for the new Special Operations Unit, a division of the Muggle
Liaison's Office in the Department of Muggle Affairs out of the Ministry of Magic noticed the
anomaly at once.

She jumped up right away and made for the Director's office. She stuck her head round the
open door.

“Excuse me ma'am,” the young girl said, “thought you might like to see this right away.”

Without looking up from her desk Hermione Granger held out a hand. The girl quietly slipped
inside and pressed the paper in her boss's outstretched hand. Without another word the girl
turned and disappeared around the corner back toward the communications room.

Hermione's well practiced gaze slid down the Magical Anomaly Report and one eyebrow rose
only slightly.

“That's,” she paused to scan the page again, “rather odd,” she whispered.

In one smooth motion she scooped a small ear bud up that had a short, slender microphone
attached and slipped it into her right ear, the free fingers of her hand brushing her long hair
back behind.

“Tobias,” she spoke out loud going back to the work she was engrossed in before the
interruption, “I need you to assemble the investigation team. Send them immediately to an
establishment called The Falconer Pub. It's located on Dresden between Park Terrace and East
End Boulevard in Surry. We've received a report of an anomaly.”

“Is it the C.D.T.?” A male voice cracked in her ear.

“I don't think so,” she replied as if it were a matter of recourse, “It's seems to be a
singular event involving a Muggle but best bring back up just in case the report was incomplete or
inaccurate. Have the investigators check in with Detectives Clark and Bitterman when they get
there. They are the Muggle badges involved. Better have an Oblivator team on stand-by.”

“Muggle?” She could hear the surprise and confusion in her Number One's voice, “Yes
ma'am, we're on it. E.T.A.,” he paused. She knew he was checking the map in the situation
room against the distance and travel time. The man was nothing if not efficient, “ten minutes!”

“You've got eight,” she quipped, smirking to herself, “and I want a full report on my desk
upon your return.”

“Oh certainly, your Highness” the voice quipped snidely, “no worries…sheesh! Tobias out.”

He was the only one in her command that had the stones to talk to her like that and she
didn't put up with it very often from him…much. He never did it around the others. He would
never attempt to undermine her authority like that but when they were alone together he was just
himself…an obnoxious tool!

Besides, he knew she would just kick his scrawny arse if he dissed her in front of her
subordinates.

She also knew, however, beyond a shadow of a doubt her team would carry out her instructions to
the letter and their duties like a well oiled machine. They were all highly trained and highly
skilled in their respective positions and she had made certain to surround herself with only those
who could *`cut the mustard'* as the saying went.

Everyone in her department was hand picked by herself and Kingsley Shacklebolt vetted against a
very strict set of requirements. If they did not fit 100% they were out before they had a chance to
start.

Hermione was not going to tolerate *any* bullshit. It was one of her requirements when she
was given free reign to create this division of the Muggle Liaison's Office. It was the only
way she would agree.

If she was going to be place in charge of bringing down this newest dark threat to the Wizard
world then she was going to do it *her way!*

Kingsley Shacklebolt remembered the meeting with the Wizengamot very clearly. He would never
forget it as long as he lived. When asked why she felt she needed free reign over a completely new
and untested division of the Ministry her response had been simple, direct and to-the-point…

“Because you need me more than I need you. As far as I'm concerned the whole damned Wizard
world can be thrown into the seventh circle of hell to burn for all eternity for all I care.”

She had eased far out over the desk they had been seated at leaning on her stiff arms and gave
the council such a look of dark loathing her gaze could have killed them all where they sat.

“You want me to save your arses *again* then you'll give me what I want, when I want it
and you'll ask no question. Furthermore, you'll stay *the hell* out of my way or
suffer the consequences. That clear enough for you or would you like me to put it in writing?”

No-one had disagreed or put up any kind of argument…they all just got the hell out of the
woman's way.

Now 28 years old, over eleven years out of Hogwarts, life after Voldemort had not been the
care-free and wonderful future they had all anticipated…*not even close!*

It had kind-of started out that way, with a whisper of a promise at something better for all of
them…then the whole world, it seemed, went to hell at the speed of a bullet train…

---@>---

Thaddeus Hudson and Rychart Listell showed up on the scene just after receiving instructions
from Tobias Fox, their Number One, to investigate what he had called a rather strange magical
anomaly in Muggle London.

When they entered the pub they showed their credentials to an officer and asked to see
Detectives Clark and Bitterman. The officer pointed toward the back of the place where most of the
activity seemed to center around a pile of rubble set against the back wall.

Hudson could see part of a denim covered leg and an old work boot sticking out from under a
crime scene blanket. He knew what that meant. They had a corpse.

When they approached Bitterman turned and eyed the two special investigators.

“You two with the S.O.U.?” He asked. His disposition was not exactly warm and fuzzy.

They nodded.

“What have you got for us Detective,” Listell asked, “We were told it was an anomaly.”

Detective Clark turned and handed Listell a sheet of paper.

“This is what we've got so far. Young lad, a Yank, late twenties, was here with some mates
he worked with. From eyewitness accounts his lot was minding their own business when this bloke,”
he motioned to the sheet-covered body on the floor with a stab of his folded reading glasses,
“started some trouble.”

“Seems the Yank took offense when the bloke started manhandling one of the ladies they were
with. That's were the strange shite begins.”

“Strange shite,” Hudson asked, eyebrow raised.

“Luckily,” Bitterman chuckled, “That's your department lads. Yank's over there.” He
pointed behind them toward the tables off to their left.

Hudson looked down at the dead man.

“Any charges pending?”

Clark seemed to sigh heavily.

“From all accounts the young man never laid a hand on the bloke and from what we could ascertain
it was really nothing more than a case of self-defense. If it was something else the only folks
giving out less information is this unfortunate sot. We really don't have any evidence to
charge the fellow with anything yet but,” Clark looked up at the two Special Investigators
grinning, “the night is still young.”

Bitterman gestured to the corpse.

“This one's got a record of assault and violent behavior. Spent a few months in the clink
for roughing up his own mum!”

“Brilliant,” Hudson groused, “Real sweetheart wasn't he?”

The two Scotland Yard Detectives just glanced at one-another and shrugged. This was nothing new
for them.

“Alright Thad,” Listell said, glancing at his partner, “best go have a little chat with our
Yank. The boss will want a report as soon as we can get it to her.”

He glanced back at the detectives.

“Do you need us to call in a clean up team for this?”

“No, I don't think so,” Clark replied looking around, “but I'll leave that up to you to
decide. At least it wasn't the C.D.T. this time. I won't lie gents, we're getting awful
tired of cleaning up after those deviants.”

Hudson and Listell both scowled.

“We're working on that Detective just as hard as we can.” Listell said darkly.

“We know how it is,” Bitterman replied a bit warily.

“Send us a report as usual won't you gentleman,” Hudson asked as they turned to go interview
the man who perpetuated the anomaly, “and we'll have ours on your desk first thing in the
morning.”

“Consider it done,” Clark nodded then he and Bitterman turned back to continue their own
investigation.

“This is a first,” Listell said as they made their way through the bar, “A Muggle…with no wand?
Damned curious if you ask me.”

“Not really,” Hudson replied looking at Listell a bit surprised, “Wandless magic isn't all
that uncommon. It's rare, I'll grant you but not unheard of. What's most surprising to
me is why someone with magical powers from the U.S. is living in the middle of Muggle London
apparently completely unknown to us. Now *that's* damned curious!”

“Think he might be a Squib?” Listell asked.

Hudson just shrugged.

“Possible I suppose,” he looked back over his shoulder taking in the whole scene. From what his
investigative mind could determine the victim had been thrown approximately 55 meters across the
room to land in some mechanical device with enough force to break the bloke's neck, “but I
don't think so. The power necessary to do that could not have come from a Squib but,” he
sighed, “stranger things have happened. Only one way to find out.”

He looked at the sheet Clark had given him.

“Name, Byron Humbolt…age, 29 years of age, born, Syracuse, New York, 1983. No priors, wants or
outstanding warrants. Lad's clean. Was in the U.S. Military for four years from '01 to
'04. Wounded, then honorably discharged with a Purple Heart and commendations. Bloke's a
bloody war hero.”

“I wonder if Operations has been able to dig up any info at all from the Ministry on this one.”
Hudson thumped a hand on his partner's shoulder, “Why don't you contact Ops and check while
I have a chat with our M.O.I.” *{Muggle Of Interest}*

Listell nodded. He pulled a small device from his jacket pocket and slipped it in his ear as he
turned to go outside the pub for better reception and not to be overheard by the Muggles.

After his interview with the Muggle, Thaddeus Hudson was left with more questions then answers.
After Listell came back letting him know Ops had not found a single reference to the American in
the Ministry records confirming his suspicions it made the situation all the more confusing.

The young Muggle's description of his version of what happened fit the evidence as they had
found it so he couldn't find any real reason to detain him. The Muggle authorities weren't
going to so Hudson decided to call in and get the official word from the boss before they wrapped
up their end of things.

The word came down not to detain so they concluded their investigation comparing notes with
Clark and Bitterman before they returned to the S.O.U compound.

Something just didn't add up in Hudson's mind so instead of returning to headquarters
with his partner he took a side trip to the Ministry to have a chat with the Commander of the
D.M.L.E. He needed answers.
 Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7
-->



4. Chapter 3
------------



**Prince of the Dark Triangle**

*Details, descriptions, items and characters of the Harry Potter series are the sole property
of J.K.Rowling, et al and used only within the context of this story and my not be otherwise
reprinted, sold, or used for any other purpose. Original characters and plot are mine and my not be
used in any other {for profit} form without permission…*

**Chapter 3**

Early the next morning Hermione hit her office first and called for a de-briefing on the anomaly
from the previous evening. She stopped for a quick spot of breakfast and a cup in the
compound's dining area then headed to the Situation Room as soon as she was done.

Hermione no longer spent much time outside the walls of the Special Operations Unit compound.
She was the Clan of the Dark Triangle's number one target and it was pretty clear they were
looking for any opportunity to take her out. With Hermione Granger out of the way, they knew the
whole resistance would probably fall apart or at least suffer a debilitating and crippling
loss.

It was a completely self-contained secret facility that housed all of the agents as well as most
of the support staff. Some chose to live in London but since the attacks on Muggles had increased
most had decided to move to the fortress-like facility.

There was only one outside the Special Operations Unit who knew the true location of the place
and that was the Commander of the D.M.L.E., Kingsley Shacklebolt…and he wasn't telling anyone.
For anyone who wasn't a part of the operation, the only way in or out was through the
Commander's flue in his office unless brought in by one of the team.

She walked into the Situation Room like a woman on a mission as usual and all her team was
there. Pricilla Piffle, the other Communications Tech sat in to take the minutes as usual.

She nodded at the plethora of `*good mornings**'* from her staff as she settled in
her seat at the head of the large conference table.

“Good morning everyone,” she said sitting stiffly upright in her seat, “let's get right to
it shall we. Tobias, if you please.”

Tobias Fox, Hermione's second in command she affectionately tagged as her Number One was the
first recruit selected from over three dozen possibilities the first go round to find competent
agents for the S.O.U.

He had passed all competency tests and placed higher than anyone on his aptitude test scores,
physical ability and magical ability assessments. They had also discovered he was a natural leader
and went out of his way to help his fellow trainees improve their own abilities. He had helped her
get the team as well as the facilities needed up and running and to her he was an indispensable
asset.

Tobias developed a very healthy respect for the Director, not because she was undoubtedly in
command but that she had also gone through the training with her recruits. She had shown them all
very quickly why she was more than qualified to head the S.O.U. She had left all of them in the
dust in many cases without breaking a sweat.

It was also during the development stage of the S.O.U. that Hermione Granger got her new
nickname.

*It came as a result of a police action she had some of her new recruits go on with
Kingsley's Aurors. It was to investigate a complaint that there were some dark types recruiting
for a new group in a pub in* *Knockturn* *Alley. When the unit dispatched got there they
were met by over 30 individuals all looking to wipe out the Auror detachment.*

*In seconds Diagon Alley was a bloody war zone and neither side was giving in or giving
up.*

*When* *word had finally reached the Ministry Hermione wasted no time jumping right into
the middle of the fray. Some of her new recruits watched as their future Director went on a killing
rampage that made the old Death Eaters look like meek little puffsk**e**ins.*

*At one point Hermione summoned a small oil lamp sitting just inside one of the shop windows.
When it landed in her hand she proceeded to explode the lamp creating a huge fireball just in front
of her. With her magic she controlled the fire and started spraying it all over the dark wizards
setting them ablaze.*

*Many came screaming out of their hiding places only to be cut down by the Auror team and the
future agents of the S.O.U.*

*In the aftermath no-one could believe what they had seen but everyone agreed to what it had
looked like…so Hermione was, from that day forward, known as…The Dragon!*

“Agents Hudson and Listell were dispatched to the Falconer Pub at 1:17 a.m. this morning to
investigate a strange anomaly that took place in Muggle London at just around 11:52 p.m. last
evening as reported by the watchdogs over at the Ministry Department of the Illegal Use of Magic
Division.”

“Seems a Muggle by the name of Byron Humbolt, a United States citizen now residing here in
London cast a modified *reducto* against another Muggle inside the same establishment and did
so without a wand. The Agent's report also stated their preliminary investigation showed the
Muggle had no knowledge of the use of magic and he is not registered at the Ministry for Magic at
all.”

Murmurs passed over all present.

“Interesting,” Hermione said listening intently, “So you're saying this Muggle had no idea
he possessed or was capable of using magic?”

“Yes Director,” Agent Hudson interjected, “That's correct. He was rather disoriented and
confused when we spoke to him last night. He was also a bit frightened. The burst of magic used on
the victim broke the man's neck. He was dead at the scene when we arrived.”

“Merlin's ghost!” someone exclaimed under their breath.

Hermione's mind was working in its usual efficient and organized fashion.

“While it's highly unusual for someone with magical ability to escape detection of the
Ministry we are all aware of their fallibility. However, a foreign-born adult Muggle that did not
use his or her magic could fly below the radar for a time I suppose, if they were very careful but
I just don't see that happening.”

“The power needed to cast such a spell with the force necessary to do that kind of damage had to
be significant enough to rule out the possibility of the subject being a Squib. I take it you did
not identify the true nature of your investigation to this Muggle?”

She eyed both Agents.

“No Director,” Agent Listell added, “He believed we were a part of the Muggle
investigation.”

“Of course,” she nodded, “I don't mean to sound trite gentlemen. I've just become
accustomed to covering all my bases, you understand.”

“Understood Director,” Listell replied grinning slightly.

“I take it there were no charges brought since the Muggle authorities decided not to
detain?”

“Yes ma'am,” Listell answered, “That's correct. That was one of the reasons Agent Hudson
contacted you for confirmation.”

Hermione nodded making some notes on her parchment.

“I think Agent Hudson has additional information he acquired from the Ministry on the way in
last night, isn't that correct?” Tobias inquired.

“Yes sir,” Hudson said looking at the Director a bit worried, “I hope you don't mind
Director but there was just something about the Ministry having no official cognizance of an adult
Muggle who could perform magic that simply didn't set right with me so I paid a visit to the
Ministry and the D.M.L.E. to try and find some answers.”

“And what did you find Agent Humbolt?” Hermione asked.

Agent Hudson pulled several pieces of parchment from his briefcase and began…

“I learned some rather surprising things during my inquiry. My first stop was to the Department
of Magical Detection. I discovered that they use the same process to detect foreign witches or
wizards coming into the country as they do to identify adolescent Muggles who display magical
abilities for indoctrination into our society. Although it's not infallible, as you stated
Director, the system is fairly efficient.”

“There might be quite a few magic folk who go unregistered but it's very rare Muggles with
active magical ability go undetected. The Ministry simply doesn't have the resources to track
them all down for official registry but they are watched by the D.M.D. for any signs of subversive
activity.”

“As I'm sure you already know Director, The Commander has ramped up efforts to expand
detection as a result of the activity of the C.D.T in Muggle Great Briton…”

“Indeed, I do Mr. Hudson,” Hermione nodded, “Go on.”

“As you might be able to assess, that still left the fact that we have an adult Muggle with no
knowledge of his own magical ability living in Muggle London completely undetected. I simply
wasn't satisfied with the *`shrug of the shoulders'* attitude from the D.M.D. so I dug
a little deeper.”

“I went to talk to an Unspeakable at the Department of Mysteries about this situation and I was
a bit…shocked by what I learned.”

With that declaration everyone in the room seemed to lean forward and paid a little closer
attention.

“It was difficult, as you might expect, to get an audience with one of them but I'm nothing
if not persistent. I finally got an interview with an unidentified member who gave me this
information.”

“It was the fact that this Muggle was from the United States that I was able to get what I was
looking for. The Unspeakable said that Great Briton is very adept at identifying, contacting,
registering and indoctrinating adolescent Muggle-born magical types, much more so than any other
country.”

“In a country like the United States, for example, the Muggle population is much larger so the
chances of Muggle children who possess magical ability falling through the cracks, so to speak, are
much greater.”

“The Unspeakable had a word for these untrained adult Muggles. He called them
*Latents**.*”

“Latents?” Hermione asked a bit shocked herself, “I've never heard that term. I've never
really considered there were those with magical abilities who did not possess any type of formal
training either. I wasn't aware they even existed.”

“I'm not surprised,” it was Agent Listell who interjected, “Although we're not certain
it's an official term it's not such a common thing so the term isn't used much. Like
Agent Hudson said, we're pretty good at spotting them young.”

“True,” Agent Hudson continued, “but there's more Director and I'm afraid it gets a bit
dicey.”

“Dicey, Agent Hudson,” Hermione asked completely intrigued now, “Please explain.”

“Yes. There seems to be a potential risk for Muggles who possess magical powers but have no
skill or knowledge on how to use them. I was told that several conditions can occur. First, the
individual should experience some major physical discomfort as a result of a build up of energy in
their system.”

“For Muggles who are identified and educated young to use their magic and are issued wands, or
what was referred to by the Unspeakable as a *focus instrument**,* the energy is
dispersed on a regular basis. For someone with absolutely no knowledge of their magic abilities the
energy builds up. As they get older it becomes even worse.”

“One of the main symptoms of this condition is that the Muggle may suffer terrible physical pain
or blinding headaches as a result of the constant pressure on their system. Another problem is the
manifestation of strange occurrences such as sudden apparition or loss of memory or other sudden
bursts of uncontrolled magic…”

“Like punching a full grown Muggle man clear across a pub without physically touching him?”
Tobias asked.

“Precisely,” Agent Listell said looking significantly at Number One, “but that's not the
worst of it!”

They all sat silent for a moment as those words seemed to sink in.

“I'm afraid he's right,” Hudson said, “The Unspeakable also told me if the condition in
the adult Muggle is left untreated it can be…erm…fatal.”

There was a collective gasp from most everyone at the table.

“You trust your source Agent Hudson?” Hermione asked. She was beginning to get concerned.

“Well yes, Director,” Hudson added, “I have no reason not to at this point. He told me, in no
uncertain terms that an untrained Muggle who possess magic left to their own devices could
eventually self-destruct. There have been a few documented cases of things as strange as
spontaneous combustion to the magic pressure simply burning out the cerebral cortex. No matter the
cause, he said it was a horribly painful and excruciating way to die.”

“Great galloping ghosts!” It was Brandy Honeywell, one of the S.O.U specialists, “How
horrible!”

Hermione sat in thought for a long moment. Her first reaction was that she had a million other
things she needed to be doing. Playing nursemaid to a Muggle who was close to coming apart at the
seams was *not* one of them, however, she was also perfectly aware if he went off in a crowded
place he could kill literally hundreds…and if she did nothing to stop it when she knew she could
she would never be able to live with herself.

She groaned internally. She knew she should let Kingsley's people handle it but they already
had the intel necessary to at least contain the problem and the skilled teams in place to execute.
She wondered if she was starting to develop her own *saving-people thing.*

*Morgan fecking* *le Fe**y…I hope not!*

She covered her face with her hands for a moment until she had made her decision.

“Ok,” she stated, “Here's what we're going to do. Number One and I will assess the
situation. We need to know if this guy's an immediate threat or not. The only way to do that is
if we get up close and personal…but we're not going to let him know he's being watched. If
he's radio active will deal with the problem accordingly…”

“Radio active?” Someone asked.

“Erm…Muggle expression,” she smirked, “The point is, if this guy's about to go off like a
cracker he needs to be contained but if he's no threat we leave him be and let the Ministry
handle him at their usual snail's pace.”

She turned to Tobias.

“I need you to find out where he works, where he lives, where he hangs out, etcetera, etcetera.
Get us a way in.”

“I'm all over it Director,” he replied without the slightest hesitation, “How soon?”

“Yesterday,” she said with a slight smile, “Use what support you need. Everyone else stick to
your assigned patrol schedules unless requested otherwise and you two…”

She pointed at Agents Hudson and Listell. They looked a bit taken aback for a moment.

“Damned fine work gentlemen,” she said grinning, “Well done. That was
certainly…educational.”

“Thank you Director, just doing our jobs,” was the combined response from both agents.

“You know it's so nice to have such an undemanding superior…” Tobias quipped under his
breath.

Hermione just gave him *that* look, which from Hermione Granger, could be fatal in
itself.

---@>---

The following Monday morning found Byron Humbolt standing in the office of the Director for
Armed Security Division of the Prestige Security Company.

Captain Guilforth Banyon was one of the most upright, stodgy and priggish people Byron had ever
met. An ex- British navel officer turned elderly English gentleman the man was by-the-book
steadfast in every aspect of his life.

He was the picture of proper grooming and personal hygiene. He was always impeccably dressed
with his ever-present bowler hat and his office was a neat and painfully organized miniature museum
of British military maritime history.

The Captain did not suffer incompetence nor did he tolerate dishonesty of any kind. Byron was
also almost certain Captain Banyon was mostly responsible for his getting hired on in the first
place.

As the tall, debonair looking man with a perfectly trimmed white handlebar moustache sat
scanning the document lying on his desk, peering down through his half-lens reading spectacles that
had no arms and hung on a fine gold chain around his long neck, he glanced up at Byron with a bit
of a frown.

“Are you certain this is what you want Mr. Humbolt,” the Captain asked as he continued to read,
“I've read the reports of the incident very carefully and can find no reason you should be
concerned about the matter any further. While I realize that taking someone's life isn't
something to be taken lightly this is a clear case of self-defense, nothing more.”

“In fact, this is the very reason we consider you one of our more competent and capable agents
Mr. Humbolt. However, if you feel you need a leave of absence I can certainly understand…”

“No sir,” Byron replied before his superior had an opportunity to continue, “Thank you for the
consideration but no. The last thing I need is time off,” he sighed heavily, “I just think a change
of position is in everyone's best interest right now sir.”

Captain Banyon regarded Byron for a long moment before he nodded. The fact that this young man
was standing before his desk at formal military attention, hat tucked under his left arm in a
manner even the most strident drill instructor would be hard pressed to find fault with, was not
lost on him in the least.

It said more about the young man's character than anything else as far as he was
concerned.

“Very well, if that is your assessment then I feel compelled to accommodate you Mr. Humbolt. I
have quite a few personnel requesting first shift so I don't think it will be a problem to find
someone willing to change with you. Are you certain you want night watch?”

“Yes sir,” Byron responded without explaining further.

Captain Banyon pulled a ledger from the top left drawer of his desk, placed it in front of him
and opened it to a particular page and skimmed down a column of names and numbers all penned in a
perfect swirling cursive script.

The good Captain did not use computers…they were for *children and lay-abouts* as he once
commented when Byron had asked.

His finger rested on a name half way down the page.

“Ah yes,” he said not looking up, “The next in line for consideration is a gentleman on night
watch at the Morrison Hotel. It is a five-star hotel not far from Heathrow and they are one of our
first, oldest and most distinguished clients. I think that would be a perfect fit for both of us,
is that acceptable Mr. Humbolt?”

“Yes sir,” Byron replied bowing slightly, “That's fine sir.”

“Done and done, young man,” the Captain said. He took out a legal pad and fountain pen and began
copying some information from the ledger. When he was finished he pulled the sheet free and handed
it to Byron.

“You will meet with Winston Ogilsvy. He is our Chief of Security for the Morrison. Fine fellow,
been with us for twenty seven years. I'll call ahead and let him know you're coming as well
as make arrangements for the transfer.”

“Thank you Captain,” Byron said, “I appreciate your help and understanding on this matter,
sir.”

“Indeed,” his Director stated, “Very well. I won't mince words with you Mr. Humbolt. I'm
not exactly keen on loosing one of our better agents on dayside due to all the strange occurrences
and attacks lately but I am attempting to…read between the lines of this incident report and we
shall leave it at that. That is all Agent Humbolt.”

“Yes, sir,” Turning on his heel as if he were in formal drill in the Marines he left the
Director's office only feeling slightly better about everything that had happened three days
before.

After going back to work that Saturday morning it had been just as Byron had feared. Almost all
of his fellow security agents treated him as some strange oddity and a freak.

Even though the press reported the incident as nothing more than *a drunken scuffle in a pub
that ended in tragedy* everyone that was there saw exactly what had happened even though they
couldn't seem to explain it.

The only one who didn't shun him like the plague was the freaky little Gothic chick Benny.
She had approached him during shift change Sunday morning eyes bright with excitement wanting to
hear every detail of what she had heard from some of the others.

Before that Byron couldn't remember the girl saying more than a handful of words to him over
the past two years. The way the girl was looking at him gave him the willies. It was like she was a
wild predator and Byron was a rather tasty snack or something.

He just wanted to forget the whole thing but the stress of it all just became too much so
that's what prompted him to change to night watch and get as far away from it as he could
without quitting his job. Jobs were hard to come by and Prestige was one of the best security
companies to work for in the U.K.

What he didn't know, could not have possibly foreseen was the strange chain of events set in
motion that would change his life completely and forever in the very near future.

He had no idea he was about to meet *HER* and come face to face with his destiny.
 Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7
-->



5. Chapter 4
------------



**Prince of the Dark Triangle**

*Details, descriptions, items and characters of the Harry Potter series are the sole property
of J.K.Rowling, et al and used only within the context of this story and my not be otherwise
reprinted, sold, or used for any other purpose. Original characters and plot are mine and my not be
used in any other {for profit} form without permission…*

**Chapter 4**

*Ten years before…*

Immediately after the fall of the Dark Lord life for Hermione, Harry and Ron was a whirlwind of
celebrations, appearances, award ceremonies and dedications. While Harry and Ron reveled in the
pomp and circumstance Hermione just tried to fade into the background. Part of her had basked in
the attention for about 72 hours because she felt she had earned some of it but after that it had
just become annoying.

After things settled down for a while the Trio found themselves being offered all sorts of
opportunities in the way of spokesperson for this and representative for that but Hermione had
shunned all of it. As a result she found herself being separated from her two best friends because
of all the notoriety. She just wanted to get on with her life.

---^-^---

For Harry, he had been heavily recruited by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to become
an Auror but made it very clear, very quickly he had no intention of doing so.

Many thought it was Ginny Weasley's influence that made the decision for Harry to stay out
of the Ministry a very easy one.

He and Ginny found themselves again and Harry was absolutely smitten with the red-haired young
woman. Ginny was now considered by a vast majority to be one of the fairest and loveliest young
women in the wizarding world.

She had shot up to stand five foot ten and one half inches of slender, graceful and elegant
young woman but she was no wilting flower. She could hold her own on any Quidditch field in the
world and was fast building a reputation as one tough customer.

Harry had proposed and Ginny had more than gladly accepted. They were happy and having the time
of their lives and everyone considered them the closest thing to a Royal Wizard couple as they
could get.

Much to almost everyone's surprise he re-connected with his old Gryffindor Quidditch captain
Oliver Wood and with his help landed a spot as Second Seeker with none other than the Chuddley
Cannons.

The Cannons were more than thrilled to have him and after a single season moved into the Number
One spot when the starting Seeker decided to retire and much to everyone's surprise and utter
delight Ginny became the Second.

The Chuddley Cannons had become the most popular Quidditch team in the wizard sporting world.
Matches were always a complete sell-out and season tickets were simply non-existent.

There wasn't a day that went by without a story in the Daily Prophet about the couple's
daily exploits.

When the Cannons decided to play an exhibition match with the Bulgarian National team with part
of the proceeds going to charity a special arena had to be created for the event and attendance
eclipsed even the Quidditch World Cup!

Wizards and witches from all over the globe attended to watch Harry Potter take on Victor Krum
in a competition that would be talked about for years. Ginny stepped in as a Chaser because, as she
told Ron and Hermione just before the match started, she'd be damned if Harry was going to get
to have all the fun…

…And Hermione and Ron got to sit in the Minister's box for the whole thing. It was one of
the most exciting and thrilling spectacles they had ever witnessed.

---^-^---

For Ronald Weasley, he had finally found acceptance in a world that, until the death of
Voldemort, had struggled to remember his name much less the fact he even existed most of the time
and he had taken full advantage of his fame.

He had profited from some of the lucrative endorsement offers he had received and, as fate would
have it, found himself falling into partnership with his brother George and the Weasley's
Wizard Wheezes shops.

In the aftermath of the Dark Lord, George found he was hard pressed to keep up with the demand
for his items so he decided to expand by purchasing (with Ron's financial help) Zonko's in
Hogsmead and converting it into a Wizard Wheezes.

He decided to teach Ron the ropes and let him manage the place allowing him a percentage of the
profits and Ron found he had a knack for it.

It was a complete shock to everyone when he announced his engagement to one *Romilda Vane*.
Hermione was stunned and couldn't understand it but Harry didn't seem to be all that
surprised.

He reminded Hermione about the time Ron had eaten some love potion tainted cauldron cakes meant
for him and thought it might have been some strange residual effect but Hermione wasn't
convinced.

After meeting the rather dark but very lovely Romilda at the Burrow one time Hermione had to
admit the young woman had become rather personable and they were completely infatuated with
one-another. Romilda seemed completely smitten with Ron.

Ginny hated the raven-haired girl with a passion for some reason and told Hermione she just
added Romilda's new nick-name to the fiery redhead's personal hag list, right next to
Phlegm's (Fleur's). From that day forward she would always refer to Ron's new
bride-to-be as *Troll*milda.

Arthur took to Romilda right away but Molly simply kept her thoughts about the rather dark young
woman to herself but anyone who saw them together knew the Weasley matriarch secretly sided with
her daughter when it came to the mysterious Ms. Vane.

Ron was completely oblivious to his mother and sister's disdain for his new love interest,
however, they grudgingly had to admit the two seemed a perfect match and together they ran their
new business venture like a finely crafted Swiss time piece. Even George had to admit the new
Weasley Wizard Wheezes was a smashing success and Romilda was a large part of that success.

Harry and Hermione found themselves being happy for Ron irregardless of what others thought of
them.

---^-^---

For Hermione…she had tried to date a few times but nothing ever seemed to come of her
short-lived relationships. There were a few blokes she thought she could have fallen in love with
but for one reason or another they never seemed to stick around for very long.

Hermione Granger was, if nothing else, driven. She was dedicated to building her career and
before long realized she had considered the personal part of her life as just not that important
and all her suitors felt they were taking a back seat, so to speak.

She had even tried to rekindle her brief and rather underwhelming romance with the Bulgarian
National Quidditch star Viktor Krum but quickly realized whatever spark that might have been there
no longer held any light or heat.

They had remained very close friends mainly due to their on-going correspondence but they both
realized that's the way it should remain and they were both perfectly ok with that.

Hermione had visited Victor at his home in Bulgaria several times and he had come to stay with
her in London and she had come to value the relationship they had. It was easy with no expectations
for either one of them so it made talking and spending time together easy and care-free.

For a time it had bothered her that she couldn't seem to make any lasting romantic
connections and she really had made an effort but after a rather horrible experience with an
unintended one-night-stand she just didn't care that much about romance and finding someone
after that. It had been humiliating and a real eye-opener for her.

She found herself spending a lot of her free time, along with Harry when he could manage,
visiting Andromeda Tonks and little Teddy. She had fallen head-over-heals in love with the little
morph-magus.

She would bring the tyke presents and goodies and she even started bringing Crookshanks with her
on her visits and the old cranky cat-kneazle seemed to fall in love with little Teddy as well. He
would howl like mad when it was time to leave so sometimes Hermione would let her cat stay the
weekend.

Hermione suspected the barmy old feline just liked chasing garden gnomes into the peat bog.

After a while it seemed Harry's visits became less and less as his life became quite a bit
busier with traveling to his matches and all the other public obligations he seemed to find himself
involved in. It made Hermione a bit sad.

By the good graces of her friend and mentor Minerva McGonagall Hermione was offered a position
in the Muggle Liaison's office at the Ministry. Wizard/Muggle relations had been strained
because of the conflict spilling over into their world so McGonagall thought it would be a perfect
position for her well-loved Protégé and she had been right.

Hermione took to her roll as if she were born into it. In a matter of months tensions between
Wizards and Muggles began to improve and life, at least for Hermione was becoming normal…if not
even a bit mundane but she reveled in the sheer peace of it.

Unfortunately, that peace didn't last as long as she had hoped…

It was only a scant 18 months after Voldemort met his fate Hermione found herself working late
at the M.L.O. (as she always seemed to be…) when an urgent Ministry inter-office paper airplane
zipped into her open office door and landed smack dab in the middle of a proposal she was working
on for the Muggle Prime Minister's office.

She knew it was urgent because the parchment was bright red.

When she snatched it up she unfolded it and the words, *`FOR EYES ONLY!'* appeared on
the page. She quickly swiped her wand over it and the real message beneath appeared.

*From; The Desk of the Commander;*

*Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Ministry of Magic*

*To; Ms. Hermione J. Granger*

*Assistant Administrator; Muggle Liaison's Office; Ministry of Magic*

*Your presence is immediately and urgently requested at the Leaky Cauldron Pub, East End,
London. Room 204. Please note, no apparition is being allowed in or out of the establishment at
this time.*

*K.S.*

*Commander; D.M.L.E.*

Hermione couldn't quite fathom why Kingsley Shacklebolt would be sending her such a strange
message but there it was so, for reasons she could not explain she hastened to get to the east end
as quickly as she could.

When she arrived she passed several serious-looking Aurors who pointed her in the right
direction until she found herself standing outside Room 204 on the second floor of the old wizard
establishment.

There were Aurors and official ministry types everywhere. She turned abruptly when she heard a
woman weeping coming from the room on the other side of the hall. She spied Molly Weasley
surrounded by most all the other Weasley clan and was about to approach when she felt a large hand
gently grip her arm.

Kingsley Shacklebolt was suddenly there standing in front of her.

“Thank you for coming Ms. Granger and I'm sorry for the urgency of my message but I thought
you would want to know about this right away,” his face looked pale and grim.

“Know what Mr. Shacklebolt,” she inquired a little more than confused, “I'm afraid I
don't understand.”

“This way Ms. Granger,” Kingsley said holding his arm indicating inside Room 204, “and all will
be clear soon enough I'm afraid.”

She started getting a bit frightened as she glanced over to see Molly Weasley bent over in what
appeared to be utter misery clutching a white handkerchief. She saw Arthur sitting next to her on
the bed, arm about her shoulders patting them gently. Percy was kneeling in front of her while the
others stood in a circle all around her.

But when Hermione followed the Commander of the wizard law enforcement agency into the room the
sight that greeted her in the far corner of the room was enough to almost make her wretch. She had
to force a mouth full of bile back down as she gasped at the scene.

Ron Weasley was lying in the corner of the room as if he had been thrown there - arms and legs
spread wide, eyes open and mouth agape in terror. He was dead and from what Hermione could assess
he had been that way some time, maybe a whole day.

His face was bone white and his tongue was swollen to fill his gaping mouth. His body was
surrounded by a host of Aurors, Medi-Wizards and a few who she recognized as from the new Wizard
Death Investigator Division Kingsley had set up just after accepting his appointment as head of the
D.M.L.E. They did the work of Muggle Medical Examiners and murder scene investigators.

Hermione turned away unable to look any longer as she burst out in uncontrollable tears of utter
shock and grief. She could not seem to comprehend or accept what she was seeing.

After a few moments Kingsley put a hand on her shoulder.

“I'm sorry for making you see this Ms. Granger but I need your help if you're
willing.”

She nodded trying to control the raging sorrow that filled every cell of her heart and mind.

“Do you have any idea who might have done this?” Kingsley asked sounding almost frantic.

“You mean besides just about every Death Eater who escaped from Hogwarts the night Voldemort was
dispatched,” she said a bit harsher than she really wanted, “not a soul.”

Her pain and sorrow was slowly turning into a blinding rage at the thought Death Eaters were
involved.

“We've considered that but we have no evidence or eye-witness accounts any dark wizards were
on the premises when we think the crime occurred and what is even more a mystery is why Mr. Weasley
was here in the first place.”

Kingsley sighed.

“We contacted Mr. Weasley's wife,” he glanced at his notes, “A Ms. Romilda Vane-Weasley.
She's at her mother's in South Hampton at present and has been there for at least the last
48 hours to attend the funeral of a great aunt. She was surprised to hear that Ronald was even here
at the Leaky Cauldron. She stated when she left he was at their bungalow in Hogsmead and had no
idea why he would even be in London unless it was to confer with his brother George but after
talking with him, George told us he had not seen Ron in over a week.”

“What do you know about Romilda Vane Ms. Granger,” he asked, “I'm aware she was at Hogwarts
but was a year behind you if my information is correct.”

“I know very little about her…” she replied but she went on to tell the Commander about the time
she had spiked some candy one Valentine's Day to try and get Harry to fall in love with her but
Ron had gotten into them instead and almost died when Professor Slughorn gave Ron a sip of
something that was spiked with poison that was actually meant for Dumbledore. She remembered Harry
had saved Ron with a beazor.

She realized how utterly useless that information was to his investigation but it all seemed to
come spilling out and she couldn't seem to stop it.

She suddenly realized how dangerous their lives had been and how many times they had all managed
to snatch one-another from the hands of Death more than she wanted to recall. Now…it seamed, at
least for Ron…

She broke down again. When she was able to get a hold of herself once again she looked at
Kingsley.

“Why do you suspect her,” Hermione asked, “They're husband and wife! I know they've not
been together long but Ron seemed blissfully happy and Romilda, the few times I saw them together,
seemed as if she was completely taken with Ronald. I just can't believe she would do something
like this!”

“Nor do I Ms. Granger but as far as the investigation goes I must cover all possibilities and
because there is such a lack of physical evidence to point to the actual killer it forces me to
make rather uncomfortable inquiries, you understand?”

She did but at the moment she just felt numb. Something occurred to her.

“Have you contacted Harry?” She asked.

“I did,” he replied, eyebrows pinched in concern, “and he has yet to reply to my owl or show up.
I contacted him almost an hour before I had my assistant send you that message. That's another
reason I requested your presence Ms. Granger.”

“At the risk of sounding daft Mr. Shacklebolt I'm not sure I understand…”

“If this is the work of some of Voldemort's lot then I'm getting a bit worried. I know
how close you three were Ms. Granger, the whole bloody wizard world knows so the fact that he's
not here right now gives me a serious cause for concern.”

“And,” he went on, “Since all three of you are, at present, our world's most notable figures
I'm inclined to suspect they may attempt to target you as well.”

She gaped at the Commander of the D.M.L.E. turning pale and started getting a sick feeling in
her stomach all over again. The hideous taste of bile erupted in her throat again and she had to
physically fight the urge to vomit.

Kingsley must have seen her turn a few shades of green because he bade an Auror standing near to
get her a chair and began fanning her with his notes.

As Hermione sat contemplating the severity of their situation her eyes flicked over to where one
of her best friends lay dead. Thankfully the Medi-Wizards had covered the body with a blanket.

Her heart throbbed painfully in her chest and her nerves were scraped raw at the thought
something bad may have happened to Harry as well.

One of the Scene Investigator's stepped up to Kingsley and slipped several sheets of
parchment into his hand.

“C.O.D. report Commander,” the man said then turned back to the room.

“C.O.D., Mr. Shacklebolt?” Hermione inquired.

“Indeed, Ms. Granger,” he replied glancing at her, “It's the cause of death report,” his
eyes perused the pages making a few non-descript grunting noises as he read, “Would you excuse me
for a moment Ms. Granger. I need to ask the Examiners a few questions for clarification.”

For some reason Hermione suddenly found herself on her feet.

“May I go with you Mr. Shacklebolt,” she asked beseechingly, “I want to know how Ron was killed.
I'm not sure why…but I just do, please?”

Shacklebolt eyed her for a long moment then reluctantly nodded. Hermione fell into step behind
him.

She wasn't sure she really wanted to know how Ron was killed, it was more the fact that she
didn't want to be left alone to think…to remember and to fall into the depths of her utter
despair and grief.

Part of her knew she should go next door and offer her condolences and comfort to Ron's
family but she wasn't sure that was for the best at the moment. She wasn't certain how much
comfort she could be to them anyway.

She wanted to know what happened and the more she thought about it the more that question burned
in her mind. The next question…*who!*

The hot anger was back and to Hermione it was much more palatable than the debilitating grief
and sorrow.

Kingsley stepped up to a short squat man with a large bald spot on his shiny sweaty head that
gave him the look of an old-world Benedictine monk. His round face was almost the color of a tomato
and his baleful eyes put Hermione in mind of an old hound dog.

“Healer Flinkle, may I have a word if you please?” Kingsley asked.

“Of course, Commander,” the rotund Healer replied with a rather jovial but sad smile, “What can
I do for you?”

“Just need some clarification,” Kingsley continued, “You state in your assessment the victim
died of asphyxia due to the collapse of his tracheal passageway?”

“Indeed,” Healer Flinkle replied adjusting his glasses, “The trachea was completely compressed
by what I would consider a very great force. The bruising around the neck suggest two hands applied
a tremendous amount of pressure to crush the air passage in such a manner Commander,” the Healer
held both his hands out close together cupped in mid air with left thumb over the right.

Hermione couldn't stand it. She had to turn away and fought herself to remain in
control.

“But you also have listed a basil skull fracture,” Kingsley asked looking a bit surprised,
“That's the separation of the spinal cord where it connects at the base of the skull yes?”

“Yes, exactly Commander,” Healer Flinkle added, “but we're almost certain that condition was
post-mortem trauma.”

“I see,” Kingsley replied, “so you think the victim was physically thrown against the wall with
enough force to do that kind of damage after he had been strangled and it wasn't done with
magic?”

“That is what the evidence is telling us Commander,” Healer Flinkle said, “There's no trace
of a magical signature to suggest the victim was stunned or cursed at any time during the
altercation that we could detect nor did the victim use his wand either.”

“And there are no other indications of a fight or a struggle before the C.O.D. No bruising,
contusions or lesions?”

“None, Commander,”

“Hmm,” Kingsley murmured, “Very well, thank you Healer. Carry on.”

As she listened Hermione's mind began working. She started piecing together a picture in her
head.

She could almost see Ron standing in the middle of the room, possibly having a heated argument
with someone and from the lack of bruising…someone he might have known or at least didn't
consider an enemy or a threat.

The murderer would have had to be a rather large bloke because Ron was not a little guy. He had
been around six foot two and must have weighed a good 225 pounds or more and was as thick as the
Hogwarts Express locomotive.

But to physically throw him bodily across the room without the aid of magic was just
unimaginable. Whoever killed him must have been a monster or at least filled with a blind rage.

Kingsley Shacklebolt watched the young woman as she stared blankly off into the room as if she
were lost inside her head. He knew this young lady was as clever as they come after many
conversations with Minerva McGonagall over the years.

“Ms. Granger,” Kingsley asked quietly so not to startle her, “what are you thinking?”

Hermione glanced back at the Commander, her eyes welling with tears again.

“I'm not sure Mr. Shacklebolt,” she sniffed miserably, “but something tells me Ron knew
whoever killed him.”
 Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7
-->



6. Chapter 5
------------



**Prince of the Dark Triangle**

*Details, descriptions, items and characters of the Harry Potter series are the sole property
of J.K.Rowling, et al and used only within the context of this story and my not be otherwise
reprinted, sold, or used for any other purpose. Original characters and plot are mine and my not be
used in any other {for profit} form without permission…*

**Chapter 5**

In the days that followed that horrible night the murder of Ron Weasley went unsolved. Harry
Potter as well as Ginny Weasley were listed as missing when neither had shown up for practice with
the Cannons…and their manager said they had never missed a practice before.

Kingsley wanted Hermione put in protective custody for her safety but she had refused. She was
not going to hide like a scared rabbit cowering in fear. She did, however, allow the Commander to
have a few Unspeakables put some very complex and intricate protections, alarms and safeguards on
and around her flat near downtown London just so she could sleep in peace at night. They also put
safeguards around her mother and father's home as well and had them all watched around the
clock.

She didn't like the idea she was being babysat but Kingsley would not budge on that. She had
also limited her time out in public as much as she could stand and giving up one of her favorite
Muggle pastimes was excruciating.

She didn't have many interests but when the Aurors watching her reported some strange
looking people hanging out near the Opera House in London the Commander flatly nixed her forays to
see Porgy and Bess and all her other favorites after that.

Shortly after Ron's funeral she got an Owl from George telling her Romilda had taken her own
life by splinching herself over the grief of losing her husband.

Her mother came to their bungalow in Hogsmead after she had not heard from her daughter in
several days to discover the gruesome scene.

The upper half of Romilda's body was lying on the living room floor in a lake of blood and
the lower part was discovered in the basement of the joke shop.

Since there was absolutely not a single trace of evidence that suggested fowl play it was listed
as a suicide. Her mother had even acknowledged that Romilda had been horribly depressed and
miserable.

One evening she found herself standing outside the building that contained #12 at Grimmuald
Place trying to figure out how to get inside. Several attempts by the Aurors had been unsuccessful
due to the industrial strength wards on the place.

Hermione had gone to every place she could think of where Harry might have gone but neither he
nor Ginny could be found anywhere.

Then, slowly, other reports of disappearances and very gruesome deaths started surfacing.

The next to fall victim to the sudden, unexplained and unexpected violent attacks was Seamus
Finnigan. His body was found badly beaten and bloody just outside a new wizard pub, the Gilded
Dragon that had opened in Knockturn Alley. Half his head had been caved in. There was scant little
evidence and no eyewitnesses.

Other names started cropping up in the Daily Prophet such as Dennis Creevey, Dean Thomas,
Parvati Patil, and many others they had gone to Hogwarts with.

Cho Chang had been found dead. She had been tied up, beaten and bruitilly raped. A plastic bag
had been tied around her head but she didn't give up without a fight.

It must have taken a long time for her to suffocate to death because investigators found her
body covered in bruises and cuts as she had bucked and thrashed and tore the skin from her bound
wrists tyring to wrench her hand free. It must have been a horrible death.

But there still wasn't enough evidence to determine who was perpetrating these heinous
crimes.

It was frustrating the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and once again terror and fear
began to grip the English wizard world.

Kingsley began ramping up efforts to try and protect as many as his recourses would allow after
Hermione came to a rather startling conclusion one evening sitting at her flat afraid to go
anywhere.

As she wrote the names of all the dead and missing to that point on a piece of parchement a
clear pattern to the carnage began to emerge. Almost all the names could have been taken directly
from the membership list of their old secret Dumbledore's Army club.

After frantically digging through her old Hogwarts trunk filled with her keepsakes she found the
old list she had spelled to reveal anyone who snitched on them and sure enough, much to her utter
horror, she discovered she was right.

She contacted Kingsley right away with her discovery.

Hermione had begun to become a bit peranoid so she found herself in Kingsley's office one
night after work begging him to relocate Andomida Tonks and little Teddy to a safe location. Even
though they had nothing to do with their old D.A. club something inside was telling her to do
that.

She thought about sending her mother and father back to Austrailia but reconsidered when
Kingsley doubled Auror protection on them but still she constantly worried for their safety.

Kingsley had no idea where he might put them but after some thought it only took an owl and
calling on a favor from an old friend to solve the problem.

Less than 24 hours later Andomida and Teddy found themselves as welcomed guests in the placial
estate of the Krum family just outside the Bulgarian capitol city of Sofia.

Viktor had welcomed them with a warmth and friendliness that surprised even Hermione and Viktor
took to little Tedy almost immediately joking he was going to teach the little morph-megus how to
ride a broom like a champion.

Hermione also met Viktor's new incredibly gorgeous girlfriend Lasha. She was the lead singer
in an all-girl Bulgarian rock band and Hermione liked the girl immediately. Wizard tattoos adorned
both arms and much of her body and her dark gothic drag gave her an almost sinister apperance.

She also had a rather dominering personality but she was open and honest and didn't let
Viktor get away with any nonsense. She was also very kind to Andromida and Teddy and when out of
her way to see to Andromeda's comfort. Teddy fell in loved with the raven-haired goddess at
once and clung to the slender dark young woman like she was his mother. It was a bit shocking to
both Andromeda and Hermione but it didn't seem to surprise Victor at all.

“My Lasha has a very magnetic personality,” he had said with a devious grin.

If it wasn't for the fact the girl was so likeable and perfect for Viktor, Hermione would
have almost been jealous.

After returning from Bulgaria Hermione had finally had enough and wracked her brain to think of
a way to get into #12 so she decided to pay a visit to one Bill Weasley at Gringotts.

She asked him if he might be able to break the wards on #12 so they could get in to see if they
could find out what was going on. Being worried for Ginny's safety he agreed to try and with
the help of a few other curse breakers he knew they met at #12 the next evening.

Standing in the small park across the street from Grimmuald Place Hermione was getting quite
nervous.

“He did tell you he would be here soon, didn't he Hermione?” Bill Weasley asked as they and
three other highly skilled curse breakers stood waiting in the shadows of a large willow tree.

“Yes,” Hermione replied, “He said…”

But before she could finish they heard the sound of quite a few apparitions landing all around
them.

Kingsley Shacklebolt greeted them somberly as he approached. Bill quickly introduced his
associates as the rest of the Aurors took up their assigned positions. The older man glanced at
Hermione for a moment.

“You know,” he rumbled in his deep voice, “I should have thought of this. Thank you for your
help Bill.”

“Think nothing of it Kingsley,” Bill replied, “To be honest…I hope we don't find anything in
there.”

But as they slowly approached the old Black family home they were all about to discover that
Bill Weasley's hope would be dashed when they finally gained entrance.

It took almost an hour for the four highly skilled curse breakers to bring down enough wards for
them to at least gain entry to the house but before he would allow anyone else inside Kingsley
insisted he and the Aurors go in first.

After what seemed like an eternity as Hermione found herself going insane with worry Kingsley
finally reappeared at the front entrance looking horribly pale and sweating, almost as if he was
going to be sick. Hermione knew instantly it was *really bad*.

“Bill,” the Commander gasp, “I think you need to see this but I must warn you…It's ghastly,”
the old Auror swallowed hard, “Please be prepared and promise you'll touch nothing. I need to
get an investigation team here at once.”

When Hermione made to follow Bill inside Kingsley grabbed her shoulder.

“Ms. Granger, please. I don't think this is something you should see!”

Hermione looked at him with a touch of annoyance and more than a little defiance.

“With all do respect Mr. Shacklebolt I'm not a sheltered little girl anymore,” she huffed,
“Those are my friends in there so if you don't mind,” she glanced down at his hand holding her
arm.

Kingsley reluctantly released her practically begging her not to go in but she was already
making her way through the front door.

When she stepped into the gloom of the entrance hall the first thing that hit her was the
horrible cloying smell. The next thing that immediately grabbed her attention was that the portrait
of the old Black Matriarch had been shredded into rags, the long strips of canvas hung off the
painting like a skeletal hand as if reaching down to grab the next one passing beneath the dusty
ornate wooden frame.

There were streaks of something dark that splattered the walls everywhere and as Hermione looked
closer she realized what it was. It was *blood*…a lot of it and it seemed to be
*everywhere!*

Her heart pounded as she fought to keep the keening cry behind her teeth as she heard someone
down in the dungeon kitchen sobbing relentlessly. She quickly made her way forward and down the
steps trying hard not to step in any of the puddles of *something* all over the floor.

When she entered the kitchen she was not at all prepared for what she was about to see and
instantly wished she had taken Kingsley's advice.

As her mind processed the horrific scene before her it all became too much and before she could
do anything else the whole world seemed to fade to a total encompassing blackness…

---@>---

As Hermione's eyes fluttered open she realized she was looking up at a night sky full of
stars. The air was almost cold but quickly realized she was drenched in sweat. She tried to sit up
but someone in a Healer's tunic held her gently but firmly in place.

“Please Ms. Granger,” the older woman pleaded, “remain calm and just relax.” The woman was
pointing her wand at the left side of her head mumbling some kind of healing charm.

It was then Hermione realized her head was pounding and she unconsciously reached up to touch a
rather large goose egg-sized lump on the side of her noggin.

“You fainted, Ms. Granger,” the Healer stated matter-of-factly, “and from what the Commander
told me you're head nicked the side of one of the benches on the way down. Here…”

The healer handed Hermione a small vile of a clear liquid.

“A pain drought,” the woman added, “It will help with the pain. It tastes rather bad so you
might want to chase it with this…”

She also produced a goblet of pumpkin juice.

Hermione nodded and didn't even hesitate to throw the pain drought into her mouth and
swallow. She then snatched the pumpkin juice and tossed it back. She started feeling better almost
instantly but as she sat there the horrible images came back into her mind and it almost made her
wretch.

She didn't want to believe it…she couldn't…but she could not deny the reality of it…

Ginny Weasley, or what remained, was lying on the long wooden table naked and pale white. Thick
rope bound her to the wooden surface around her middle. Her legs had been spread wide and Hermione
saw her center was covered in blood and some other kinds of fluids. She had no desire to speculate
but she could guess what those other fluids could be.

Her arms were flung wide and both her wrists had been slashed. Two large pewter pitchers sat on
the floor below her dripping wrists to catch the blood as it flowed from her severed veins,
although her body long since drained of its life-giving fluid.

Marks had been carved into the soft skin of her chest between her breasts and on her stomach but
Hermione could not remember what the marks looked like…she didn't want to remember because
there was dried blood everywhere. It covered the youngest Weasley's torso.

But the thing Hermione would never forget was her face. Ginny's lifeless eyes were open wide
with utter stark terror and what Hermione could only describe as total disbelief, mouth open wide
in what must have been terrifying screams of sheer pain and anguish. Her long red hair hung off the
end of the table like a curtain of shimmering auburn silk.

Hermione would never, for the rest of her life, forget Ginny's face. It hung suspended in
her mind's eye like a spectral image but as she sat there trying to regulate her breathing
trying desperately not to vomit all over the place she suddenly remembered the walls of the kitchen
and the words painted on them in what could only have been Ginny's blood.

Over and over the words were repeated all around the room…

*Blood Revenge!*

It didn't take a genius intellect to figure out what that meant. The remaining Death Eaters
were taking revenge on as many of them as they could get to with a brutality so heinous it would
shock everyone to cause panic and fear once again in the wizarding world.

Hermione looked up to see Kingsley Shacklebolt looking down at her with concern. He glanced at
the Healer.

“She'll be fine Commander,” the older woman nodded, “just a bump on the head.”

The Healer moved off and Hermione sat up pulling her legs beneath her then wrapping her arms
tightly around her middle.

“I should have listened to you Mr. Shacklebolt,” Hermione said softly, tears of misery tracing
down her cheeks. She really didn't want to ask the next question but she had to know… “Did you
find h…him,” she choked.

“No, actually,” Kingsley said with a bit of surprise, “There's no trace of Harry anywhere in
the house. The whole second floor where the bedrooms are has been tossed. Everything had been torn
up, broken or ripped to shreds almost like someone was looking for something.”

Hermione's head snapped up peering at the old Auror with utter disbelief.

“But the wards,” she stammered, “The house was warded from the inside Mr. Shacklebolt! How could
that be possible and anyone be able to get out?”

Kingsley's eyes held hers for a long moment.

“I'm not certain I can answer that at present Ms. Granger but it tells me there's a good
chance that Harry's still alive somewhere,” he concluded, “Perhaps they've taken him
hostage…” but his voice trailed off in a touch of misery.

The same thoughts plagued Hermione's mind as well. With the utter brutality of the scene in
the kitchen they both knew if whoever had done this took Harry they were probably doing horrible
things to him at that very moment.

Hermione turned away from the Auror just in time to empty the contents of her stomach all over
the scraggly front lawn of Number Twelve.

Less than a week later Hermione found her theory about the D.A. list tested when the Burrow was
attacked during the night by what Arthur had described as *an insane group of out-of-control
psychopaths!*

He told Kingsley they had all been dressed in black Muggle clothes and wore some kind of strange
masks not at all like the old Death Eaters.

He had forced his wife to leave just as the house erupted into flames but his stubborn wife
insisted on returning as soon as the attacking hoard left.

Molly had been badly burned when she tried desperately to save some of her priceless and
irreplaceable possessions and Arthur suffered sever smoke inhalation damage trying to rescue her.
Neither of them was doing well. Just after giving his statement Arthur lapsed into a comatose
state.

Arthur had also said most of the attackers appeared to be younger but there were a few he
thought he recognized as being the type Voldemort had once employed as his minions but even with
Arthur's testimony it gave them scant little to work with because their methods and attacks
seemed to be completely random in nature leaving behind little or no evidence to whom they might
be.

Hermione had no way of knowing then that in less than ten days Molly and Arthur would both be
dead from their injuries.

Two days after the attack on the Burrow a similar group attacked Shell Cottage in the same
fashion but this time they hit in broad daylight. Fleur had barely managed to escape with her life
and was badly injured. She managed to grab an emergency portkey Bill had given her for just such a
reason after the incident at his parents.

Fleur had made it to just outside Gringotts when she collapsed. The Guards on duty got to her
immediately and called for Bill. He took her straight away to St. Mungo's surrounded by a
contingent of Aurors and Hit Wizards and as soon as she was well enough to travel he got her away
to France to the safety of her parent's chateau in the quaint valley community of Avignon near
Marseille on the southern coast of France.

George's place in Diagon Alley was next but when the deviants saw the massive Auror presence
they disappeared just as quickly as they came. It was then George, Bill, Lee Jordon, Angelina
Johnson, Katie Bell and a few others they knew all decided to take an extended vacation to visit
Charlie Weasley.

They had tired to convince Hermione to come and the Commander of the D.M.L.E. couldn't agree
more but she refused. She would not leave her parents behind and took steps to try and prtect them
as best she could but she did not want to interrupt their lives again by taking them away. It would
be a decision she would live to regret.

During all that was happening the Ministry did next to nothing to assist. The new Minister for
Magic, Sedgwick Bristlebalm, who had been a senior member of the Wizengamot spent his days doing
nothing but blustering and bellowing in front of the Wizard Press which added up to exactly
nothing.

Many members of the Wizengamot fled London like rats from a sinking ship fearing they would find
themselves targets in this new threat to wizard safety and it made Hermione sick to watch it all
happen.

She had never placed much confidence in the Ministry's leadership but part of her believed,
at least for a time, the regulatory body was necessary to keep wizard London from falling into
utter chaos but at the moment she was hard pressed to find any reason to keep trusting them.

It was two weeks before Christmas when the final blow came that sent Hermione Granger into a
tailspin of pain, grief, anguish and utter despair.

While trying to maintain some semblance of normalcy in her life she stubbornly stayed at her
post in the Muggle Liaison's Office while trying to protect her mother and father and at the
same time assist the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in their investigations. She knew she
was stretching herself way too thin and on a snowy evening it had all caught up to her.

She had collapsed into her bed and slept for almost 24 straight hours. In the haze of utter
exhaustion she found herself brought back to consciousness by something that was not as it should
be.

As she lay in her bed unmoving, trying to gather her wits she suddenly and with an icy cold
dread spilling down her spine, realized she was not alone in her flat.

She listened intently for even the hint of a clue, of even someone breathing and heard nothing,
not a single sound but something inside her knew…someone *was there*…she could feel it!

Hermione slowly and almost imperceptibly coiled herself. In the next second she summoned her
wand and jumped out of her bed ready to fight but as she stood in the middle of her silent room she
found nothing.

She slowly eased her way through the rest of her rather spacious flat looking in closets and
even behind doors but she found no-one or nothing to even indicate someone had ever been there but
the feeling of being watched by someone close was still there.

Then a frightful thought occurred to her as she was standing in the middle of her dark living
room.

*The Invisibility Cloak!*

If this new group of dark wizards had taken Harry then maybe they had got hold of his cloak as
well. Maybe that's what they had been looking for the night they killed Ginny and tore up
Number Twelve.

A line of sweat traced its way down the left side of her jaw as she strained with all her senses
to hear any sound, to feel any movement, completely aware how vulnerable she was just standing
there in the darkness wide open.

She was contemplating what she was going to do because she knew with all the wards, spells and
charms placed on her flat by the Unspeakables she could not apparate in or out of her flat, no-one
could, not even her. The only way in or out was through the front door which was the only entrance
and even then one had to possess the password and only she knew that.

*…But did* *wards* *work while under the Invisibility Cloak?*

She couldn't remember…

Then a small tentative glimmer of hope filled her rapidly thudding heart…

“Harry?” She whispered.

But in the next second, loud booming and frantic pounding sounded against her front door and it
made her jump several inches off the floor, squealing in stark terror.

“Ms. Granger,” came a muffled voice she had come to know very well over the past several months.
The pounding was relentless, “Please open the door. It's Kingsley. Are you in there? Ms.
Granger PLEASE!”

The aged Auror's voice was on the verge of panic and she had never heard him like that so
with a wave of her wand the door to her flat opened. The next second had Kingsley rushing in
followed by a whole phalanx of Aurors.

“Secure every window and any other possible way in or out NOW!”

When he turned his eyes to Hermione still standing in the middle of her living room she suddenly
realized she was wearing nothing but a thin tight tank top and her panties but as the Aurors flowed
in around her they didn't seem to even notice her standing there in her knickers. They were
focused on their task at hand.

“Mr. Shacklebolt…” Hermione was about to ask what the hell was going on but never got the
chance.

“Ms. Granger,” he said, the look on his face a horrible mask of pain and anguish, “the bastards
attacked your parents while they were in transit from doing their monthly volunteer work at an
orphanage near Ipswich. They mercilessly killed all four guards and…and…” he couldn't seem to
continue.

Hermione just stood there and heard her own heart crack right down the middle and her soul
shatter into a thousand pieces. She suddenly couldn't feel her arms and legs and if the
Commander of the D.M.L.E. wasn't standing right in front of her she would have collapsed into a
boneless pile of goo right where she stood.

“I'm so sorry,” she heard Kingsley choke but she was leaving. She just wanted to go away…go
somewhere and maybe never come back so she allowed the darkness to take her…willingly this
time.

---@>---

As Senior Auror Jonathan Gallingforth made his way into Ms. Granger's flat he heard his
Commander's instructions and immediately pointed his men toward their proper places. As he
moved into the living space movement of a potted fern set in a corner near the door to what he
assumed was a bedroom caught his eye and he instantly thought it quite odd seeing how none of his
men were anywhere near enough to disturb the air around the plant.

“Over here,” he shouted instantly, “I think I've got something!”

In the next instant he was waving his wand trying to assess the situation but in the next moment
whatever had caused the fern frond to move was dashing into the bedroom. He knew this because who
or whatever it was had bounced off the partially closed door and caused it to fly open banging off
the wall behind.

Several curses went flying into the room just past his left ear that caused him to duck but he
kept moving forward.

“Don't let whatever it is get away damn it!” He shouted.

But whatever they were chasing was determined to make the window and had a rather significant
head start. He could see the bed compress where the thing jumped on top of it no doubt making a
last ditch effort to dive out the unopened window. It was going to smash the glass to pieces and
whatever it was would probably crash to the ground a bloodied pulp. He could only hope.

Auror Gallingforth whipped his wand toward the window to try and make it disappear all together
but he found himself suddenly dodging a curse aimed right at his head.

He was forced to duck below the bed for just a second while multiple curses and hexes flashed
over him from behind but they seemed to be deflected by something and careened around the room
causing more then one Auror to hit the floor.

When he finally looked up over the edge of the bed he saw the whole window pane shimmer like
liquid and the curtains on either side billow as if hit with a sudden breeze from the inside of the
room.

But just before the shimmering window settled he caught sight of the bottom of a shoe…just a
single shoe and it was a trainer…an old worn out sneaker.
 Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7
-->



7. Chapter 6
------------



**Prince of The Dark Triangle**

*Details, descriptions, items and characters of the Harry Potter series are the sole property
of J.K.Rowling, et al and used only within the context of this story and my not be otherwise
reprinted, sold, or used for any other purpose. Original characters and plot are mine and my not be
used in any other {for profit} form without permission…*

**Chapter** **7**

Harry Potter sat slumped in a chair on the back patio of the Malfoy mansion as the sun began to
paint the sky light blues and pinks. It was the best time of the day for him - early in the
morning. It was when the voices in his head were quiet. He could think for himself - be himself
again if only for a short time.

During these brief moments of inner silence he couldn't help but reflect back on how he had
ended up where he was and what he had become. The pain of realizing the path of destruction and
death he had left in his wake would have been debilitating if it were not for *them*.

In these rare moments of lucidity he thought he could remember when it had all started. It was
not long after had he had asked Ginny to marry him…

*Ginny!*

He thought he had finally found a peace he had never known with Ginevra Weasley. She loved him
and he loved her, clinging to that love with all the desperation of a drowning victim.

His life had become that of royalty. He could do almost as he pleased and there were no doors
closed to him in this world. But then the voice…

It was on the eve of his 19th birthday. His friends had thrown him a surprise
birthday party at the Burrow. Everyone who had survived the war - all his friends, the people he
held most dear - were there. It had been one of the most wonderful nights of his young life.

He remembered dancing with Hermione and how very happy she was for him. He recalled doing
Firewhiskey shots with Ron, Seamus, Dean and Neville. He remembered sneaking off to Ginny's
room for a quick snog session before George and Charlie had apparated in on them, drunk, teasing
them relentlessly.

It was that sudden flash of anger, the irritation of being interrupted - it had been the key -
the opening *He* had needed to wedge a spectral foot in the door.

It had begun just like before - the blinding pain in his scar - the feeling his head was going
to crack open like an egg.

He had fled - left Ginny and her brothers and dashed up the stairs to Ron's room. He found
himself wedged between Ron's bed and the wall as the pain overwhelmed him. The whole world
seemed to turn over as the contents of his stomach ended up on the floor.

Then the voice - first just a whisper of muddled words - then, with the clarity of thin
colorless crystal the veil was broken between the world of the living and that of the dead.

*“Harry Potter,”* the voice hissed inside his mind, *“Did you really think you could be
rid of me so easily?”*

“Y…you're dead,” Harry's own unsteady voice had wavered, “I killed you! I watched you
die!”

*“You watched the flesh die boy!”* the voice spit with vicious anger, *“Not the spirit!
I'm alive and well and have found* *a way* *to reach across* *the chasm between
the world of the living and that of the dead. Who would have thought the answer lay inside you, the
very one who tried to destroy me! It is poetic justice is it not!”*

Then the voice laughed - that manic, high pitched cackle that Harry had hated with every fiber
in his soul - was now echoing around inside his own head.

“NO!” He had screamed, jumping to his feet, hands pressed tightly to his temples “NO, YOU'RE
DEAD!”

*“Not any longer…”* the voice hissed and the laughter continued.

It was not long after that - the madness began…

Ginny was the first to notice the changes in him. She had asked him repeatedly what was wrong
but the voice convinced him they would think him insane if he admitted what was taking place within
him.

First, there was the fear, manifesting itself as a withdrawal from almost everyone he knew.
Ginny began discussing the changes in him with others and they decided to become involved to try
and help.

First it was Ron, then Hermione, then Arthur - it was when the paranoia began.

Instead of helping the voice had convinced him they were out to get him - to destroy his name
and steal his fortune. It was then the *other* voice began.

This second voice in his head belonged to that of a woman - she was insane and evil and violent
- and he was almost certain he knew who it belonged to.

There were times when she would whisper to him - in the darkest hours of the night - telling him
intimate and sexual things - telling him what is was like to sate one's lust on another -
instructing him in the art of self-gratification, filling his head with sinful images - laughing
madly at his weakness. He was becoming depraved and desperate but the voices only became stronger,
louder.

Ron had been the first to try and intervene on Ginny's behalf. He remembered the meeting at
a room where Ron was staying at the Leakey Cauldron. Ron had wanted Harry to meet him for a drink
but it had not gone as expected.

When Harry left the wizard pub Ron was dead. Strangled to death and in a fit of blind madness
driven by the voice Harry had thrown Ron against a wall with almost inhuman strength. It had broken
his already crushed neck to add insult to injury.

That was the beginning of his downward spiral into the depths of madness and murder - death and
destruction.

*“The only way to be truly free,”* the voice had said, *“to be truly alive is to rid the
world of all your enemies! Then, no-one can stand in your way. The world can be yours for the
taking!*

*“He is to**o* *weak and pathetic to take what he wants,”* the woman's voice
had added, *“He cares too much for these stupid mudbloods and traitors and they will be his
ultimate downfall! He can't even bed the woman he loves until they are betrothed - How
pathetic. Take her! Take the little whore and do with her as you please…if your man
enough!”*

The woman's voice had pushed him to take what he wanted from Ginny one night at #12 but she
resisted and Harry had become enraged at her refusal. It only seemed to justify everything the
voices were telling him was true.

He finally got what he wanted from the girl that said she loved him but he had to take it.
Afterward he had blacked out and when he had come to lying naked in a puddle of blood on the floor
of the dungeon kitchen of their home at Grimmuald Place he realized the horror that awaited
him.

Ginny was dead, tied to the old kitchen table naked and spread wide. Her beautiful long red hair
hung down from the edge of the table almost brushing the stone floor. She had been savaged
repeatedly then both wrists had been cut and the blood collected in two pewter pitchers. Her face
was a frozen mask of utter terror and unspeakable pain.

When Harry was able to finally tear his eyes away from his dead Ginny he saw what had been
written on the walls. It was then he looked at his hands and realized he was covered in blood from
head to toe. His groin was a mass of dried seminal fluid and blood.

*I killed her!*

*“No boy,”* the voice sneered, *“We killed her! Don't forget I give you the power to
overcome your enemies. It is I who possess the knowledge to help you achieve your dreams. It is I
to which you will one day owe everything…but in return for your loyalty I will give you whatever
your heart desires. I will help you obtain it!*

*“I will teach you the arts of physical pleasure if your man enough to listen to me boy!*
The woman's voice cackled like a lunatic, *“I've forgotten more about sex than you'll
ever be able to obtain in your whole life! I will give you the secrets that will make women worship
you like a god and beg for your manhood. They will kneel before you and ple**asure you in any
way you desire -* *If* *you**'re* *strong* *enough to take what you
want?”*

*“Oh he will be strong enough to overcome any obstacle, defeat any opposition and live as a
god king among pathetic mortal men! All you must do is listen to me and offer me your
loyalty…”*

…And on and on it went, day after day the voices poked and prodded in an endless torrent of
vile-laced pronouncements of endless glory and putrid propaganda but it didn't take long until
Harry began to crumble under the endless onslaught of stress and pressure.

Before the year was out he had eliminated many of those who the voices told him stood in his
way, convincing him that there were those who wished to take from him what was rightly his. The
voices seemed to know things that seemed to come true about those he needed to eliminate for his
own safety.

Once he had removed most of the obstacles that barred his future the voices began teaching him
to build an army and he began seeking out those who would follow him and those weak and scared
enough that would do his bidding.

The voices told him to trust no living person - only they could be trusted because they were a
part of him so they could not lie.

It was not long until the man's voice instructed Harry to find what Death Eaters remained
and call them to his cause. It took some convincing and Harry had been gravely injured several
times trying to convince them he had truly turned. The voice had given him power and it was during
these meetings when the voice revealed himself to the others as the Dark Lord Voldemort.

During those times Harry's consciousness was shoved aside and Voldemort had found a way to
inhabit Harry's body without being expelled as he had been before. Once Voldemort had
established his existence he urged his old followers to align themselves with Harry in a plan to
take over the world.

Voldemort had learned of the Deathly Hallows from Harry's memories and was enraged that he
had not been aware of them while he had lived. To know he could have been the master of death if he
had only possessed those three items put him in a dark mood for weeks but he also reasoned the
Resurrection Stone was the one item that could help him regain mortality - if they could only find
it!

It was then the Clan of The Dark Triangle was born. Using the symbol of the Deathly Hallows as
their mark the Clan began recruiting from both the Wizard and the Muggle world.

Harry had killed Draco and took Narcissa hostage so the Malfoy mansion was their primary base of
operation. It was well guarded, un-plotable and covered by some of the oldest and strongest wards
in wizard history - Care of the Black family.

Harry became the undisputed ruler of the clan and any who opposed him were forced to dual him to
the death in front of all his minions. None had ever survived against him. He not only possessed
his own knowledge - as limited as it was - he now possessed all the Dark Lord's dark sorcery
and had become one of the most dangerous dualists in history.

The Clan of The Dark Triangle continued raining terror on his enemies as well as beginning to
disrupt life in the Muggle world. His masses were growing and the more that joined him the farther
his reach became and soon the terror of the Clan began spreading world wide.

It was not long after the Clan had dispatched that despicable mudblood's weak Muggle parents
Harry had tried desperately to find and kill that annoying little bookworm. He knew it would not be
easy for she was very clever and very resourceful. He had no idea how difficult it would become and
the one chance he had to kill her slipped through his fingers.

He had been weak and sentimental that night in Hermione Granger's flat. He should have
killed her then but something had stopped him - something he no longer had any use for…love.

Voldemort had been enraged and had punished him for hours after. The essence of the Dark
Lord's spirit that resided inside Harry knew he would one day soon have to thrust Harry's
existence aside but he needed a spell and the one Hallow that still eluded him

His spies at the Ministry began telling him Hermione had begun putting together a special force
of highly skilled and trained wizards who she would use to bring down his organization. In just
over a year her task force was complete and all attempts to kill her had failed.

She became almost completely untouchable and it was said she discovered it was him who was
behind all the deaths and killings of their friends and loved-ones and it was overheard she had
vowed to kill every member of the C.D.T. and that she was coming for Harry. He would die by her
hand and her hand alone.

When this news reached his ears he had laughed but inside, when the voices were quiet in his
head and he was himself he knew there was only one he truly feared. There was no Albus Dumbledore
or great wise and powerful wizard that could threaten his plans - There was only one small
Muggle-born girl who never really had any friends and there were few who ever really liked her -
Harry knew if she vowed to bring him down she would stop at nothing to fulfill her promise.

Not long after they had moved into the Malfoy mansion he had set some of his minions to the task
of breaking Narcissa Malfoy and turning her into his slave at the behest of the Dark Lord. It took
several months of relentless physical, psychological and sexual abuse before she finally began to
break.

Harry took great pleasure administering the sexual torture himself because eventually she was to
be his and his alone. No-one would be allowed to touch her because he had plans for the eldest
Black sister.

It was the Dark Lord who was interested in bringing Narcissa under his control. She would be the
instrument he would use to create the potions and incantations necessary to bring him back into a
corporeal form one again and then with all three Hallows in his possession he would be truly
immortal at last.
 Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7
-->



8. Chapter 8
------------



**Prince of The Dark Triangle**

*Details, descriptions, items and characters of the Harry Potter series are the sole property
of J.K.Rowling, et al and used only within the context of this story and my not be otherwise
reprinted, sold, or used for any other purpose. Original characters and plot are mine and my not be
used in any other {for profit} form without permission…*

**Chapter 8**

The following evening came and Hermione found herself getting dolled up to go out for a night on
the town…well, not exactly, she'd be working but she felt she had to present herself to be as
fetching as she could manage.

After some very thorough recon work by her next in charge he had discovered the Muggle had
requested a transfer from his assigned day shift post to the Morrison Hotel on the midnight
shift.

Tobias told her the Morrison Hotel was a rather swanky place so her usual men's white dress
shirt and khakis she usually wore to work were out. She was going to have to doll up and part of
her - the woman - kind of looked forward to it. She didn't get to play dress up very often.
Funerals didn't count and there had been enough of those to last her several lifetimes.

They were going to try and catch them a Muggle and being male she felt she at least possessed
enough of the right bait to get a glance or two…at least.

The truth was, she turned heads wherever she went but since she never really went anywhere any
more that didn't help her self-confidence much.

After doing her long curly hair just so she decided to let it hang long and unfettered down her
back. Most blokes liked long silky hair and Hermione's was a waterfall of spiraling shiny
ringlets of pure light golden brown with touches of lighter color highlights. Gone was the constant
frizzy untamed mess of her youth.

She applied just a hint of make up to bring out her deep amber eyes and shine up her lips a
little. A few shots of her favorite perfume, some lacy under things she then slipped into what she
jokingly referred to as her secret weapon and every self-respecting girl's absolute wardrobe
necessity…the clingy *little black dress*.

Hermione's was a backless spaghetti-strapped number that came up to about mid thigh. With
most her summers spent in the South of France on vacation with her parents it had left her skin a
bit more tanned than most. Many a summer spent in the San Tropez sun had given her a rather
permanent golden glow.

Capping off her look with a pair of stylish black 4-inch heels, a sparkly black clutch and a
black silk wrap to keep the night chill off her bare shoulders, she felt she was ready to go.

When the Director of the Special Operations Unit stepped out of her living quarters Tobias was
standing at the end of the hall where all the living spaces and apartments joined the kitchen and
recreation areas having a quiet conversation with Rychart Listell.

She noticed Tobias was wearing a stylish modern black sport coat with a collarless white shirt,
a thin black tie, black trousers and some highly polished wingtips. He had on a pair of black
sunglasses as well for some reason. She thought that kind of odd.

When the two men turned to see her they both froze solid like mannequins. Rychart almost
swallowed his tongue but Tobias only gave her his signature roguish grin. He nodded his head
slightly chuckling under his breath.

“Is that…?” Rychart asked. The lad was starting to hyperventilate.

“Easy lad,” Tobias patted his companion on the back lightly, “It most certainly is so I highly
recommend you mind your manners!”

After Tobias sent a completely confunded Rychart off in the direction of his quarters he held
out his arm to his boss. Hermione glanced at him rather sheepishly. In her heels she was about two
inches taller than he was.

“How do I look,” she asked, “Passable I hope?”

*Edible is more like it…* He thought…

She wasn't fishing for a compliment she just wanted confirmation she didn't look like a
total trashy little floozy, of course, when she thought about it, she realized most men were
attracted to the trashy little floozies but even working under cover she had her standards.

He stopped and turned to look at her pulling his sunglasses off.

“Ms. Granger,” he said grinning slightly, “I know I'm probably going to be out of line
saying this but I'm going to say it anyway.”

He paused for the dramatic effect.

“Tonight I am, without question, one of the luckiest blokes in all of Great Briton. Does that
tell you what you need to know?”

Hermione couldn't help but blush. She didn't want to but there was no stopping it so she
tried to draw a line she wasn't sure she needed to draw but for her own piece of mind it was
necessary.

“Thank you Tobias,” she whispered placing a hand gently on his arm, “but let's remember why
we're doing this ok. This isn't a date. We're working.”

He sighed, looked at the floor for a moment then slipped his glasses back on as he turned and
recaptured her arm.

“I won't forget boss. I promise.”

“I'm sorry Tobias but *I* really needed to say that,” she said softly, “If I don't
keep things in perspective I'll probably go loopy. Please don't take it personal.”

Tobias had no idea what the hell she meant by that but he just shrugged it off. He would be a
perfect gentleman. He entertained no illusions and no intentions of doing otherwise. He just nodded
in response.

He could almost feel the loneliness radiating off this women on his arm and he didn't like
it at all. Her life should be filled with light and laughter and happiness and a whole army of
blokes just dying to make her every wish come true…not filled with darkness, pain, loss and
death.

*Why is the world so goddamned unfair sometimes?*

“What's with the sunglasses by the way?” She asked as they made their way to the apparition
point.

“Oh,” he smiled, “it's for undercover detection, you know, so I can look around without
anyone knowing what I'm looking at.”

“Erm…I hate to be the one to break this to you but it's eleven o' clock…at night!” She
retorted.

Tobias just shrugged.

“No worries. No-one's going to paying *me* any attention anyway, trust me!”

She chuckled as they apparated to a pre-selected secluded location about a half-block from the
front entrance to the Morrison.

They wasted no time in making the entrance but Tobias was taking no chances. He put up several
misdirection charms as well as protecting them with an industrial strength glamour until they got
inside.

When they entered the bar almost every head turned to see one of the loveliest young women on
the planet being escorted by a rather dashing young gentleman to a secluded table off to the left
side of the room.

When a white tunic-clad waiter slipped silently up to the table with a pleasant smile (eyes only
for the smokin' hot doll in the sexiest dress he'd ever seen in his young life) he bent
slightly at the waist, hands clasped behind his back.

When his gaze fell upon Tobias in his dark shades his smile dimmed only slightly but it had
dimmed.

“What may I get for the lady…” he paused nodding at her slightly, “and her gentleman escort this
evening?”

The guy was oozing honey from every orifice. It set Tobias' teeth on edge but he swallowed
his annoyance. He would play nice…or Hermione would throttle him.

“I would like Maker's Mark on the rocks with just a sprits of soda if you please,” Hermione
requested.

“Excellent,” the waiter smiled a huge Cheshire grin, “and you sir?”

It took the waiter a moment or *twelve* to tear his irises off of Hermione's cleavage
but he finally turned to smile at Tobias.

“Martini,” he quipped, “Shaken…not stirred,” he held up two fingers looking at the waiter with a
shite-eating grin, “Two olives if you please. I feel like living dangerously tonight. There's a
good lad.”

The plaster of Paris smile on the waiter's face slipped ever so slightly further but the
eyes told Tobias the guy wanted to call him a complete wanker for perpetuating one of the dumbest
and most well worn clichés overused in almost every bar around the world.

The waiter turned and slipped off without another word.

Hermione couldn't help but chuckle after the guy left. Tobias leaned forward and pointed a
finger at her.

“I'm going to check you for finger prints later young lady.”

Hermione blanched and almost choked on her own spit laughing.

“What did I do?” she asked emphatically, “and I'm two years your senior by the way.”

“Nothing yet but the night is still young and it's not the age my dear…it's the
mileage.” He quipped.

“If that's the case then my odometer is due to turn over any time now. Shaken not stirred,”
she chuckled, “Merlin's y-fronts, that's so horribly gouache!”

“Just having a bit of a lark,” Tobias grinned.

There was no denying her Number One was a very good looking man.

“You know,” he shifted draping one leg over another and letting one arm hang over the back of
his chair looking very relaxed and at ease, “it's what some people call fun.” He tipped his
glasses down and peered at her for a moment.

“Is that what they do when they're *not* working Mr. Fox?” She quipped smirking.

“Spoil sport,” he grumbled under his breath.

Just then the waiter returned with their drinks and when Hermione went to reach for her small
clutch she suddenly remembered she didn't bring any Muggle money. She never really needed it.
She flushed with embarrassment but as she was struggling with her terrible lack of forethought
Tobias had pulled a Muggle credit card from the inside pocket of his jacket and flipped it onto the
waiter's tray.

“We'd like to run a tab if you please,” he added.

“Certainly sir,” the waiter bowed and turned, taking another long look at Hermione before
disappearing again.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” Hermione glared at him slightly, “There's no reason to run
a tab!”

“While we may be working my dear Director,” Tobias said as he sipped his dry Martini, “I'm
doing this off the clock, so to speak, so I'm going to enjoy myself. I was hoping you would do
the same.”

“Yes, well,” Hermione replied a bit glumly looking down into her glass, “I'm not much of a
drinker and even if I were I want to keep my wits about me thank you very much.”

Suddenly and without any warning Tobias slowly sat up straight, his glass stopping just before
it touched his lips.

“Don't turn around,” he said quietly, “but I think are target just arrived.”

Hermione sat sipping her drink letting her gaze drift over some of the other tables. There were
Muggles of all types, shapes and sizes in the bar but not very many. Being a Sunday night it
probably wasn't one of their busiest nights. That was good because she felt what she had
planned would work better with less people. She would stand out more.

What she simply didn't realize due to her own depreciated self-image was that she would
stand out in a crowd of a million similarly dressed women anywhere in the world. She was just that
beautiful and unique.

“What's his position?” she asked slipping her hair behind her right ear the way she always
did when she was a bit nervous.

“He's moved to your right just inside the door. He's just standing there at the moment
watching the bar. Routine patrol I suspect.”

With that Hermione placed her glass on the table and slowly rose to her feet. She knew the
ladies room was on the far right wall of the bar. It was the reason she wanted to sit on the left
side. She would have to cross the entire floor of the bar to get to the loo so she would have a
long time to get a look at their target.

“Be right back,” she said winking at Tobias with a slight smirk. He just lifted his glass as she
turned and started toward the far side of the room.

“Don't break a leg,” he chuckled, “or I'll have to put you out of your misery like a
well used polo pony.”

She glanced at him eyes wide with affected insult.

>^..^<

As Byron Humbolt stood in the bar surveying the room he realized the crowd was light tonight and
even though he had only been at the Morrison for less than a week he already recognized some
familiar faces of a few of the regulars.

It was when he was watching one of the waiters taking an order from an older couple he caught a
glimpse of movement out of the corner of his peripheral vision off to his left.

When he turned to look his eyes landed on one of the most indescribably beautiful creatures he
had ever seen in his life.

Time seemed to slow down as he watched her move with grace and purpose across the bar floor. She
was so visibly stunning it was taking his breath away. He was finding it a bit harder to
breath.

When she turned her head slightly their eyes met, hers peering at him out of the corner of hers
with such a seductive look on her lovely face Byron thought he could burst into flames right then
and there and burn to a smoldering pile of ashes.

He suddenly realized he must look like a complete fool standing there gawking at her but he just
couldn't seem to take his eyes off her even for a second. He couldn't blink. He was afraid
she would disappear in a puff of smoke like a dream.

When her eyes slid away from his she turned slightly and her beautiful silky hair covered her
face then and she slid out of sight behind a pillar near the restrooms

It was almost like someone had turned half the lights off in the place.

Byron suddenly felt dizzy and strange, like he was going to pass out. Beads of sweat broke out
on his forehead and across his upper lip.

*This is absolutely insane!*

He'd seen beautiful women but he'd never had a reaction to one like that before…of
course he'd never had one who looked at him quite like that before either.

He closed his eyes and tried desperately to get a hold of himself. He found himself moving
subconsciously toward the restrooms. Before he realized what he was doing he looked up to find
himself moving along that wall.

*What are you doing?*

He suddenly had a strong desire to talk to her, if nothing else just nod and say hello.

*What! Have you gone completely barking mad?*

He kept moving being propelled by a force beyond his apparent ability to control. When he was
about ten feet from the entrance to the restrooms he saw her reappear. This time he was looking at
her from the front and she was moving right toward him.

When she looked up their eyes locked again and Byron froze like a deer caught in the bright
lights of a speeding truck…

>^..^<

As Hermione moved across the bar she let her eyes wander over to where the target was standing.
When they finally landed on his a sudden and very strange feeling rippled through her and she had
no idea what was causing it but she couldn't seem to pull her gaze away.

The first thing she ascertained when she saw him was that he was not all that remarkably
handsome. He had a pleasant face but unremarkable. He had short light brown hair and a rather
permanent-looking five o' clock shadow. He was about the same height as Tobias, slender for the
most part with rather fine features but she could tell through his uniform shirt he was rather well
built.

It was his eyes that struck her as his most prominent feature. They were robin's egg blue
and as clear as the most priceless sapphire she could imagine and his gaze…

The intensity in those baby blues was so strong she could almost feel them pulling on her
physically. It was most disconcerting. She knew she had to look away or she just might loose
herself in the depths of those sparking orbs completely.

As she let her gaze slide away form his she let her hair fall like a curtain between them.

Once inside the restroom she tried to analyze the strange feeling that had come over her when
their eyes met. As she stood there checking herself in the mirror she suddenly and frightfully
realized what it was…

*Desire!*

But it was even more than that. This was something much…*what?*

*Deeper…almost…primal!*

*`**Oh Merlin no**…**This is not the time or the place for this kind of
nonsense Granger! Ge**t a hold of yourself you idiot!'*

She looked back up into the mirror.

“Snap out of it you moron!” she said to her reflection then made a silly face.

She then turned and made her way back out of the lavatory and decided to try and get as
physically close to their target as she could so she could get some kind of read on his condition.
She wasn't really sure how she was going to do that. It wasn't like she was some sort of
walking, talking magic detector or something.

She was beginning to think this whole idea stupid and risky. When she pulled open the restroom
door she turned right and entered the short hall that contained the restrooms and practically
walked right into the very one she wanted to get rather up close and personal with.

When their eyes met for the second time her stomach did a tiny little flip and she instantly
felt flushed all over. The fine hair on her arms and the back of her neck stood straight on
end.

This man seemed to pulse with magical energy like it was coming off his body in waves. It was so
strong it was giving her a slight coppery taste in her mouth.

She tried to gather her wits as she passed so close to him she could have reached out and
touched his hand.

Trying to act as casual as she could muster she offered him another sultry smile as she
passed.

He simply watched her pass pinning her with his laser-like gaze, nodded and said in a rather
broken raspy whisper…

“G…good evening ma'am.”

He swallowed hard after he had spoken.

Hermione kept walking trying to retain the same grace and poise she had when she was going the
other way but she wasn't certain she was pulling it off. She felt so phony and shallow.

*Playing stupid games…Ugh!*

When Hermione sat beck down at the table Tobias leaned slightly forward smirking at her
playfully.

“What in the world did you do to the bloke? He hasn't been able to take his eyes off you
since you got up to go to the loo.”

“I did nothing to him,” Hermione replied indignantly. She knew that wasn't exactly true. She
knew the sultry looks she gave the man had gone right to the part of his brain that controlled all
his sensory functions and all sorts of bells and whistles starting going off in his head…and his
trousers.

“Well?” Tobias asked looking at her over his shades chewing on the swizzle stick from his
olives.

“There's no question in my mind he's a Latent,” she said quietly, “I could feel the
power radiating off him like a bloody electric heat register. He was practically vibrating!”

Tobias knew his boss was not prone to embellishment nor was she in the habit of
exaggerating.

“”Damn!” He whispered.

Hermione glanced quickly over her shoulder in time to see their target opening the door that
lead back into the hotel for an older couple with a smile and a nod.

“I say we take him,” she whispered, turning back toward her Number One, “As soon as possible.
I'm no expert but from what we've learned about Latents from our friendly neighborhood
Unspeakable, I think this one's about ready to go off.”

Tobias gave Hermione a flat look from across the table. She knew what he was thinking.

“Look, Ms. Granger, far be it from me to second guess you about anything but this isn't
really our cup of tea, is it? Don't you think we should turn this over to Kingsley's
people? They're better equipped to handle this sort of thing anyway.”

“Normally I'd agree but it would take time for Kingsley's people to put a team together
and be briefed. We've got the resources already in place…besides, I don't want someone
self-destructing on my watch, not when I'm in the position to stop it, even though we're
becoming pretty adept at cleaning up our messes these days it seems.”

She paused for a moment lost in her own head. She recalled the look in his eyes as he stared at
her from across the room.

“There's just something about this one…” she whispered more to herself than to her
subordinate.

“Wouldn't happen to have anything to do with the fact the bloke looks like he could bench
press the Knight Bus now does it?” Tobias smirked leaning back in his chair.

To her credit her facial expression did not change at all. She just looked very coolly at Tobias
across the table.

“Seems to me you're forgetting who you're talking to Mr. Fox,” she said in her
dangerously calm tone covered in liquid silk, “I am the coldest *bitch* of her age after
all.”

He held up his hands in surrender glancing over his left shoulder.

“I respectfully retract that statement boss requesting full pardon for my egregious foux-pas but
everyone needs to let their hair down now and again, even you. It's part of what helps us stay
sharp, yes?”

She just looked at him saying nothing for a moment. Her ire was starting to sizzle. She had no
desire to talk about this.

“I need you to get into the Security office however you can and look at his schedule. We'll
take him on his next shift. Just don't get caught alright?”

Tobias placed a finger to his chin and looked thoughtful.

“How does one cast a confundus charm again?”

“Go,” Hermione scowled, “Just go before I forget how much I love you and need you and just kill
you for practice!”

He mouthed the word *`yikes'* as he got to his feet.

“Seems someone I know really needs to get…”

“Finish that statement and die a slow, horrible and painful death young man, I *promise!*”
she said through gritted teeth.

Tobias zipped his fingers across his lips, locked them and tossed the invisible key over his
shoulder rolling his eyes as he turned to go.

*Damn, that little fuck really knows which buttons to push!*

She glanced up at their target who was still throwing clandestine glances at her. She studied
him for a moment not even trying to hide the fact she was doing so. It didn't really matter.
Maybe it would be nice to let some good looking bloke have his way with her for a while but it just
wasn't something high on her ever over-flowing *to do* list.

She wasn't interested in finding love. That was out. She had no use for that emotional
drivel. At least…that's what she kept telling herself constantly.

She had dedicated her life to finding the human excrement that killed Ron, Ginny…her parents and
the prick behind it all. She was going to put them in a Grawp-sized hurt locker! For the puppet
master pulling the strings…she was going to personally *fuck his whole world up!*

The target looked at her this time and their eyes locked once more. She felt a healthy shot of
adrenaline course through her body. It was like getting caught in the act of doing something
naughty…and she *liked it*, that tingly rush of excitement. It was a feeling she had not had
in a very long time. She couldn't help but give him another smoldering coquettish smile.

Instead of smiling back he looked away like he was completely embarrassed.

*Oh well…Guess he's not going to play. I suppose I should thank him for giving me a cheap
thrill anyway.*

She got up and headed to the exit feeling a bit more dejected than she had a right to. She would
meet Tobias out front. As she made her way toward the door it suddenly dawned on her why he might
have been embarrassed by the way she smiled at him. She had come in with *another
man*…*Dugh!*

*Merlin's beard**,* *he must think you're a total skank! Ugh! Nice*
*work* *brainchild!* *Cleverest witch of your age my arse!*

She shook off her pointless musings and headed for the front entrance. When she stepped out onto
the sidewalk in front of the swanky hotel Tobias was already waiting.

*Show off!*

She began walking to her right toward the corner and Tobias fell in step beside her, his head on
a swivel.

“You know Kingsley would give birth to a full grown Hippogriff if he knew you were out without
your entourage,” he quipped under his breath, “I think we should make like the shepherd and get the
flock out of here!”

“Watching old Muggle films again are we?”

“Lethal Weapon and Rush Hour,” he quipped, “Two of my favorites! That Mel Gibson's a
pip!”

“Mmm,” she glanced at his sideways, “and he was so *totally hot!*”

Tobias grabbed the inside of his mouth with his finger like a fishhook rolling his eyes.

Hermione smirked. Her Tobias was a gem when he wasn't pushing her buttons like a
rambunctious child in a bleeding elevator.

“What did you find out,” brushing aside his concern for the moment?

“Next shift tomorrow night, he works third. In at eleven p.m. out at seven a.m. He usually comes
in through the rear service entrance but normally leaves through the front after his shift is over.
Have no idea why.”

Hermione looked up at him in surprise.

“Got a quick peek at a few surveillance tapes while I was in there,” he grinned with his playful
boyish smile. He shrugged, “thought it might help.”

Hermione just bet that roguish playful smile of his had been the undoing of more than one fair
damsel. He could probably have a bird's knickers in a puddle around her ankles with just that
look.

She loved Tobias very much but she had become immune to that boyish charm. His value to her as
her Number One far outweighed anything else she may or may not have contemplated at one time of
another.

“Well done Tobias,” Hermione smiled, “Thank you.”

“That's why I get paid the big bucks,” he replied matter-of-factly.

“So what do you think,” Hermione asked as they kept walking trying to remain inconspicuous.

It was two o'clock in the morning and they were walking down an open avenue in downtown
Muggle London. With Hermione wearing a very skimpy *little black dress* ambiguity was not much
of an option and she knew it. So did Tobias.

While he might not always act like he was serious when they were alone together there was one
thing he would not compromise on for anything…the safety of the Director. He took her safety deadly
serious and would kill anyone who tried to harm her. He also knew he would die for this woman if it
came to that.

He wasn't the only one who thought that way. The whole team had such a profound respect and
admiration for this woman it almost bordered on fanatical worship.

Almost everyone knew the only thing that stood between them and utter destruction of their world
was this one extremely gifted, uber-intelligent, gutsy and utterly courageous Muggle-born
witch.

Tobias turned to her and gave her a significant look. Through his sunglasses he took in her
total presence. It was astounding to him that this gorgeous, slender and lovely creature with her
fine elfin features could be so utterly powerful and so very dangerous but she was not invincible
or curse-proof.

“I think we should get back to the compound before you really hurt some bloke with that dress,”
he looked at her over the top of his shades, “Please?”

“Ok,” Hermione conceded, “You're absolutely right of course. No sense painting a bloody
target on my arse while hoisting myself up a flag pole!”

“Erm…” Tobias just gave her a funny look then shook his head slightly. She clasped his hand and
let him side-along back to the compound. He knew the way home.

Once back at the S.O.U. they walked together toward her office. She wanted to make some notes
before turning in.

“So,” she asked, “what do you think? How should we play this?”

Tobias replied without missing a beat.

“I think we should take him Tuesday morning after his shift. He's not on the schedule for
Wednesday so… ”

“So that means no-one will miss him for at least 48 hours before his next shift. Good thinking.
Agent Hudson's report did state that he lived alone and didn't have many friends yes?”

“I believe it did Director,” Tobias replied.

“Excellent,” Hermione nodded as she moved off down the hall, “We'll brief the team tomorrow
afternoon when everyone is here. Get some rest Tobias and good work tonight. Thanks for your
help.”

Tobias watched his boss walk away down the hall. That dress, that body, those heels and those
legs were some sight to see. It was a treat he didn't get to see very often because it
wasn't a side of her she let show much.

*Why is it that a man always wants most the very thing he can never have? It's the
bloody* *comic tragedy* *of life!*

He'd had his share of fine ladies and had no regrets. He was never without the company of
the fairer sex if he chose to have it but there was just something about this woman that defied
logic.

He thought maybe it was her toughness or her *kick ass and take names* personality.
Whatever it was drew men to her like mindless moths to her flame but for same reason very few had
the guts to try and tame her. Maybe they knew they would never succeed.

What made him sad was that he knew she was lonely. Even though she put on that cast iron armor
exterior he knew her well enough to know she wanted to be loved, needed, held just like any other
human being but she also needed a man strong enough to survive it…strong enough to endure the
hurricanes and tsunamis when they hit full force because Hermione Granger was, without a doubt, a
force to be reckoned with.

She was a warrior, a soldier, a scrapper, she could eat a bucket full of nails and crap a barbed
wire fence but underneath it all…she was just a woman, human, fragile, soft, warm and oh so
sexy.

He also realized that a bloke who could handle her just may not exist and it hurt him to think
it.

He sighed deeply as he himself turned and made his way to his apartment. He was tired.
 Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7
-->



9. Chapter 9
------------



**Prince of The Dark Triangle**

*Details, descriptions, items and characters of the Harry Potter series are the sole property
of J.K.Rowling, et al and used only within the context of this story and my not be otherwise
reprinted, sold, or used for any other purpose. Original characters and plot are mine and my not be
used in any other {for profit} form without permission…*

**Chapter 9**

Hermione spent the next morning in the weight room and practice arena. It was a large space with
a padded floor, plenty of exercise equipment, training tools, weapons and fighting toys any good
fast response team could want to keep themselves in top condition.

She really needed to let off some steam. Her little game of cat and mouse with their Muggle
target drove home two very annoying details.

The first…Hermione Granger had become a solitary creature. She let no-one in because the only
thing worse than losing someone she loved was the thought of having to go through it again, so she
didn't let anyone get close to her heart.

Second, as a result of the first detail, she had not had any intimate contact with the opposite
sex in over three years…and it was starting to take its toll. If she was going to be brutally
honest with everyone around her she needed to do the same with herself. The truth was…she needed to
get laid. Tobias had been right. She needed to let her hair down if only long enough to have a
really good shag.

But Hermione had never been the type of girl to just go out and pick up some stranger in a bar
and drag him home. Doing something like that these days, even if she was inclined - which she
wasn't, could get her *dead* so that kind-of negated the whole *quick* *pick-up*
*shag* thing.

Turning to her own people was *completely out of the question**!* The quickest way to
destroy moral and undermine her authority was to play favorites. She treated all her team members
exactly the same with an equal amount of importance. Even though she was very close to Tobias Fox
and considered him her right hand he was, as she was constantly reminding him, just another member
of her staff.

To his credit he made no qualms about it but she knew…if she let her guard down around him for
just a minute…but the damage it would cause just wasn't worth it.

So…that left her no discernable options in the getting physical department and it was rather
depressing for her to think about…so most times, she just didn't!

As she took some rather deep pent up and repressed frustrations out on a heavy punching bag her
mind drifted to the Muggle security guard.

What was it about him that was so… she searched her mind for the right word as she attacked the
bag with two solid left jabs and a brutal right hook that had the power to shatter a big man's
jaw.

*Attractive?*

No…not really. He wasn't ugly but he wasn't drop dead gorgeous either. He was fairly
attractive in a rather regular sort of way. It was easy to tell he had a great body. Not power
lifter big just well toned and lumpy in all the right places. That idea made her grin as she landed
a roundhouse kick to the center of the bag and sent it spinning off in a big circle.

*Magnetic?*

Possibly. He certainly possessed his share of magical energy but that was just due to the fact
he didn't know he even had it or how to use it.

But there was something else - something that was below the surface. Something had passed
between them besides the blatant physical attraction and desire. It was something in his eyes.

Hermione decided to switch to one of the weight machines and hit the stations hard. After that
she hit the squat rack pulling back on the weight just a bit because she had no spotter. She did
just enough reps to get a good burn in her thighs and glutes.

By late morning her teams had all checked in so, after a quick shower and a light lunch she
called for a briefing in the Situation Room to discuss the plan for taking down the Muggle early
the following Tuesday morning.

She peered around the table to see everyone was present and sitting straight paying close
attention.

This is what these people *lived* for. Her team of professionals was the best of the best
and she had complete confidence in every one. When deployed in the field they were all business and
as deadly a fighting force as any in the world.

They had become like a very tight knit family over the seven years they've been together.
No-one else got in unless it was a unanimous decision and they were always included in the decision
making process when it came to field work.

They knew their stuff so most of the time Hermione simply laid out the situation, sat back and
let her team flesh out the details.

There was no mistake. The S. O. U. had a very clear chain of command. What the Director said was
law…period! No-one argued…no-one questioned. What made it easy for everyone was that they were
certain their Director would never ask them to do anything she wasn't willing to do herself and
in many cases already had. They had a very great respect for her because of that.

Tobias was second in command and undisputed field commander. What he said during Ops was a
direct order and would be carried out without question. The fact that he cared very much for these
people spoke volumes about his command. He had no problem letting them make their own decisions
based on what they were facing at that moment but what he would not tolerate, and neither did
Hermione, was stupid heroics and going it alone. They were a team and they watched each-other's
backs at all times. No-one went it alone if they didn't have to and that was an S.O.U. golden
rule. You break it…you're out! It was that simple.

It didn't mean command didn't listen to its members. Most times she relied on her
people's intuition, skills, knowledge and training to get them through even the toughest
assignments but she never let them stray very far from the pack. Loosing even one of them would be
like looking an appendage and for her, she would rather loose an arm…it would hurt her a hell of a
lot less.

“Alright ladies and gentlemen,” she said, leaning forward on her arms, “Here's what
we've got. As you already know from our last meeting we have a 29 year old Muggle that has been
tagged as a possible threat stemming from the fact that he possesses a very large amount of
repressed magical power.”

“We have learned the Ministry, or at least some within, call these untrained magical Muggles
Latents. The man we have identified as Byron Humbolt is apparently one such Latent.”

“After personally evaluating the situation I can attest to the fact that this Muggle does indeed
possess a significant amount of power and it is in my opinion he is indeed a threat…so we're
going to take him.”

All her team looked around at one another, some keeping their expressions even while others
grinned slightly.

“Now I realize the whole *snatch and grab* thing really isn't in our job descriptions
but I don't want to wait. If this guy goes off he could hurt a lot of people. I'm asking
you all to go a little out of your areas of expertise but I'm confident you can handle this Op
without any trouble.”

Hermione looked around the table for any hint of descent but detected none. It was uncomfortable
taking someone against their will or knowledge. It smacked of the very thing they were created to
prevent but this was a special case that came at them from way out in left field.

“Does anyone feel uncomfortable about this?” She asked watching everyone, “If you do now's
the time to speak up. I will not hold it against anyone who wishes to bow out because I know this
isn't the kind of thing you signed up for but as I explained, I feel it is necessary for Muggle
public safety.”

“We trust your judgment Director,” Thaddeus Hudson replied looking confident. Everyone else
nodded.

“What's going to happen to him after we take him,” Saphron asked.

“I've not decided yet,” Hermione answered honestly, “Proper procedure would be to hand him
over to the Ministry for evaluation and possible training but I'm not sure I'm willing to
play it that way. I think you are all, by now, well aware of my position on *proper* Ministry
procedure so I'll let that little tidbit float in the air above this table for now.”

Everyone laughed at that. Hermione couldn't help but grin herself.

“Tobias will lay out the plan. We will be operating in Muggle London in broad daylight during
the busiest time of the day…morning rush so let's please keep that in mind…Tobias.”

Her Number One stood up and proceeded to lay out the plan. A standard cover perimeter would be
set up with two teams, one for misdirection cover, the other for perimeter watch. Some thought the
perimeter watch was a bit of overkill since the whole Op should only take a few minutes to execute
but Hermione was insistent.

“I'm not leaving our flanks unprotected out in the open people, even for a single second,”
she stressed, “that's simple recon one-oh-one!”

“She's right ladies and gentlemen,” Tobias agreed, “with all the attacks in the Muggle world
at present it wouldn't surprise me if they didn't have someone watching us for any kind of
movement out of cover. It's what I'd do if I were on that side of the fence.”

It was a sobering realization for all of them.

The other two teams would be in tight on the target but would not intercept unless there was
need. No more than 25 yards distance in a box formation and ready to move in at the first sign of a
struggle.

“The Director will make the grab…” when some of her team motioned to protest Tobias held up his
hand, “Look, this bloke is going to be scared enough as it is. While I myself am not all that
thrilled with this arrangement,” he tossed a rather annoyed look at his Director, “I have to agree
with the Director that since he has seen her and will probably recognize her there is much less
chance he will try to rabbit but the in-close teams,” he pointed at them, “keep a weathered eye
peeled, savvy?”

They nodded readily.

“We're in…we're out! No messing about. Once the snatch is made, perimeter teams will
stay for no more than 60 seconds for back out evaluation, copy that?”

The perimeter teams both nodded.

“Any sign of trouble radio in straight away, if for some reason you can't make contact you
know the drill.”

The drill, in case any team member was caught in a bad situation they were to portkey to a
predetermined *safe zone* somewhere in Greater London and call in. They changed the safe zone
at random intervals to keep anyone from knowing where they might be at any given time.

Hermione alone chose the safe zones and issued the portkeys.

“The Muggle will be placed into confinement until the Director decides what to do with him.
He's going to be scared and quite possible very unstable so no contact unless approved by
either myself or the Director. Don't want anyone getting hurt by this lad. Everyone understand
the plan and their assignments?”

Nods from the entire team.

“Very well,” Tobias said looking toward the Director, “I think were ready boss.”

“Excellent,” she stood gathering her notes and papers, “and as always people,
*let**'**s keep our eyes open and heads on a swivel!”*

The last part was joined in by everyone in the room. It made Hermione smile that her little send
off had become mantra for her team. It was just her way of keeping them focused on the basics. She
had thought about *constant vigilance* to pay homage to one of the bravest men she had ever
known but she thought the crusty old bastard would approve.
 Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7
-->



10. Chapter 10
--------------



**Prince of The Dark Triangle**

*Details, descriptions, items and characters of the Harry Potter series are the sole property
of J.K.Rowling, et al and used only within the context of this story and my not be otherwise
reprinted, sold, or used for any other purpose. Original characters and plot are mine and my not be
used in any other {for profit} form without permission…*

**Chapter 10**

Byron Humbolt arrived at the Morrison fifteen minutes early as he did every day. At 2:00 a.m. he
sat in the kitchen and ate his ham and Swiss on rye, a bag of corn chips and a bottle of water then
went back on the clock at 2:15.

When shift change came around he realized was a bit hungrier than usual so he decided to go to
the little diner down the street for a spot of breakfast. He found himself in the little café at
least three times a week.

Leslie Fisher worked there. She was an early twenty-something cutie he would love to go out with
but he knew she had a boyfriend who played in a band that she was completely mad about so he was
content to just make pleasant conversation with her. It was better than going home to an empty
flat.

He had thought about getting a cat once but the landlord, and old grouchy bastard, put the nix
on that real quick.

*“Bloody cats piss all over everything…No cats!”*

He punched out and headed for the front entrance as usual. When he came out he paused to take in
the crush of people all zipping this way and that going to work and school in a hurry. It was going
to be a rather pleasant day it seemed.

*Well, that's something I guess. Maybe I'll go to Hyde Park this afternoon…*

As he came down the steps and turned to blend in with the rush something caught his attention
out of the far left corner of his eye.

When he looked up he noticed something very strange.

Coming out of the sky at an angle toward the front of the bank across the street were five
billowing black streams of smoke.

The first things that struck him was that they were some kind of air-to-ground ordinance like
missiles or something but as he continued to watch his rather well-trained observation took over
and he reconsidered before he dove for the sidewalk like an idiot.

The…*whatever the hell they were*…were moving too slowly to be rocket propelled or
engine-driven missiles and the smoke…The smoke, while billowing out behind whatever it was seemed
to dissipate just behind the object.

If it was some kind of burning propellant or an engine burning fuel the smoke wouldn't
disappear like that…*would it?* The other thing that struck him as odd was the fact that there
was no noise associated with these things and when he looked around he seemed to be one of the very
few who even noticed these things *at all!* Of course everyone seemed to be on their cell
phones or sending texts or surfing the web as they walked past.

*Really freakin' bizarre!*

Seconds later the five black smoking things landed in front of the entrance to the bank across
the street. As soon as the smoke cleared the shapes of five human-looking men made a bee-line to
the front entrance of the unopened bank. They were all dressed in black clothing from head to toe
and had some kind of strange masks over their faces. The masks looked like the kind fencers used in
sword fighting but not quite as bulky.

He instantly recognized a standard 2 by 2 cover while the odd man out headed for the door in the
middle of the formation.

Byron was already moving. He tried to cut straight through the rush but found the going
difficult so he ran with the flow and ended up a half block down to the right of the front of the
building across the street.

When he finally managed to make the curb he darted straight across dodging cars, buses and taxis
all honking and tapping their breaks so not to run over the idiot playing a real live human version
of the old video game *Frogger*.

Just as he was about to step up onto the curb on the other side he heard the sound of screeching
tires. A taxi would have cut his legs right out from under him but he vaulted the car just in time
to slide across a corner of the hood. As he was landing he pulled his Sig 226 from his holster and
racked the slide to chamber a round, his thumb automatically clicking the safety on.

*First rule of law enforcement side arm safety…never keep the hammer down on a loaded
round!*

He had been taught by some old school veterans so he was inclined to listen.

Apparently the cabby had seen the gun so he just hit the gas and cleared out.

Byron was completely focused on the front of the bank. It absolutely amazed him no-one else
seemed to notice what the hell was going on. These guys were clearly trying to get into the bank
before it was open for some reason so that in itself constituted B&E.

When he cleared the majority of the passing pedestrians he squatted down into a standard low
ready position and took his pistol up in a two handed grip like he was trained to do and took aim
at center mass on the *perp* at the door keeping both eyes open using his peripheral vision to
keep tabs on the other four.

*Make yourself as small a target as possible…*

What he had not counted on was what happened next…and it blew out just about every fuse in his
logical mind…

“Put your weapons on the ground, place your hands in the air where I can see them, lay down with
arms stretched out in front of you NOW! DO IT NOW!”

He kept talking repeating the instructions, yelling commands to try and disorient them and or
scare them into compliance but it didn't work. He also kept moving, creeping closer to the
front of the bank trying not to give them a static target but a sudden and rather foolish thought
ran through his mind as he was trying to get them to surrender…

*One of me…five of them…no cover! Well done asshole! Like shooting at a freakin' lame duck
on a pond!*

He clicked his safety off and slipped the tip of his finger into the trigger guard of his
semi-automatic. He started to sweat. He was still yelling commands.

He suddenly noticed none of them seemed to be carrying weapons that he could see. They all had
short lengths of some kind of stick in their hands.

When the man in the center at the door turned slightly something very strange happened. He
seemed to flick the short stick at him. In the next second a flash of what appeared to be green
light was headed right for his chest.

Before Byron could react a hand grabbed the right shoulder of his uniform shirt and dumped him
on his back in one swift and powerful pull.

He watched as the jet of green light shot up and off to the left as if deflected by an invisible
shield.

Suddenly he was looking up at *her!*

“Stay down!” she yelled and turned her attention back toward the front of the bank.

She was holding her own stick. He watched as she flipped her stick out in front of her and a
crack sounded followed immediately by a jet of red light that hit where one of the black clad
figures was standing. When the light hit him he was thrown back against the marble façade of the
bank and crumpled into a heap.

In the next second all hell broke loose as jets of different color light started flying in every
direction.

Others seemed to have appeared on his side of the fray and they began battling with the four
remaining black clad bad guys…or who he thought were the bad guys anyway. His mind was becoming a
bit overwhelmed by it all.

He couldn't seem to take his eyes off of the woman. She was wearing a dark gray tight
fitting turtle-neck sweater and blue jeans that fit her perfect body like a second skin. She looked
angry and very determined.

*What the hell are you doing you idiot! You're in the middle of a freakin' GUN
FIGHT!”*

…but it really wasn't…there were no guns! Just strange sticks that emitted a strange light
that sounded like electric currants short circuiting or shorting out. The hissing and popping and
cracking was loud.

“Get him out of here NOW!” she yelled at someone just as the concrete inches from his left
shoulder exploded peppering his body with what felt like shrapnel. He knew what that felt like all
too well.

“We're not leaving you,” someone screamed above the din of the fracas.

“Damn it!” she yelled.

The next thing Byron knew a paper box slid directly in front of him an instant before it
exploded. Hundreds of pages of the London Times were blown into the air like confetti but the pages
seemed to catch fire and wink out of existence all at once.

*Ok…this shit is way beyond freaky now!*

It was time to do something…

He lifted up just enough to see the guy still standing in the doorway of the bank. Apparently
this guy was pretty good with his stick thing because he was deflecting almost everything they were
throwing at him while returning his own fire. Byron lifted his pistol and took aim on the guy's
center mass, positioning the front dot sight right in the saddle of the rear dove tail…

*Deflect this asshole!*

POP! POP!

He double tapped the perp and put two shots right in his chest. The guy dumped right were he
stood and didn't move but when Byron went to target the next guy he realized the slide had
locked back on his pistol.

*It locked out! Why? The magazine is full! 13 rounds* *of 40 caliber hollow-point death!
What-the-hell!*

Before he could react the concrete and what was left of the paper box seemed to erupt around
him. He had to move but before he could he felt a sudden strange wave of something come over him
and he was frozen where he sat.

He saw a figure step in front of him, then another. They were both battling with the three
remaining thugs furiously when another one of them was hit. He spun in a circle but stayed on his
feet. He kept fighting.

When Byron's eyes slid to his right he saw, almost like it was in slow motion, a green jet
of light hit the women somewhere near her left shoulder glancing off at an angle toward the sky but
it had thrown her backwards off her feet and she lay unmoving.

In a flash three more were in front of her protecting her. It was then something shifted inside
him.

A sudden and blinding rage swept through him unlike anything he had ever felt before.

*I couldn't save her! My fucking gun jammed! I COULDN”T SAVE HER! NOOO!”*

He felt a rush of heat that started somewhere near his navel and spread outward to cover his
whole body. He watched through eyes tinged with a red haze as another one of the black clad goons
went behind one of the huge marble pillars at the bank entrance.

Byron's body seemed to vibrate with raw power and he suddenly realized he wanted all those
bastards to *fucking die!*

>^..^<

Tobias deflected as many of the curses as he could trying to give his other team members a
chance to finish this confrontation. It seemed like they had been going at it for at least an hour
but he knew it had only been a few minutes.

These guys were not going without a fight so they had to proceed with caution. The Director told
them they needed to try and take at least one alive if possible but it wasn't looking good.

When the Muggle capped off the guy at the door the other C.D.T. thugs freaked and started just
throwing random curses everywhere. They were spending so much time just protecting the Muggle
pedestrians they were having a hard time returning fire.

When he saw the Director go down that was it!

*Play time is OVER!*

He and two others apparated to cover Hermione while Saphron and Marcus covered the Muggle. In
the next moment one of the strangest things he had ever seen happened and that's saying
something for a Wizard!

A vehicle parked at the curb behind them started to shake and shudder. It then lifted off its
wheels about 4 feet in the air and began spinning slowly as it started moving toward the front of
the bank building.

In the next half-second it was headed straight for Saphron and Marcus. He screamed for them to
get down.

When the two turned they had just enough time to throw themselves flat on the sidewalk as the
car skimmed right over the top of them and the now *petrified* Muggle. They didn't want
him shooting at the wrong side.

When the car passed it picked up speed and slammed top first into two of the remaining thugs and
crushed them like ants into the side of the bank building, part of the car bending like liquid
around one of the big marble pillars next to the entrance.

The sound of bending and warping metal and other parts of the car exploding off it in all
directions was sickening. They couldn't even see the two blokes behind it.

The last thug standing, the one his team had winged dropped his wand and surrendered after
seeing what happened to the other two.

The question in Tobias' mind was *how!* He knew none of his people were responsible but
when he looked at the trussed up Muggle he knew. The bloke had blacked out. His eyelids were
fluttering and he was practically vibrating like he was having a seizure.

Several things happened at once then. The Ministry decided to make an appearance at last and the
Director sat up with the help of a very worried-looking Brandy. She looked a little woozy but
*she was alive!*

As Hermione lay on the sidewalk dazed and very sore her mind went over what had just happened to
cause her to be looking up at the blue early morning London sky. She closed her eyes.

*Right before she was hit with the curse she had glanced back at the Muggle to see if he was
ok. It was then she saw hi**m* *take aim at the black clad figure standing at the door.
It was as if everything slow**ed down like in a Muggle movie**.*

*She watched him raise his gun, bits of concrete and p**aper* *b**ox*
*exploding all around him but he seemed to be completely oblivious. His focus was on his
target**, laser-like in his concentration. She watched a drop of sweat drip off the end of his
nose. It was almost like he was a machine set in motion by the violence.* *His eyes were
hooded and dark with eyebrows pinched slightly together, his teeth were clenched and the look on
his face was**…was…deadly!*

*His forearms were a ripple of corded and taut muscle and as he pulled the trigger twice in
rapid-fire succession he didn't even flinch.*

*For some bizarre reason she thought that the sexiest damned thing she had ever seen in her
life.* *She couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from him, then in the next second…*

*OUCHY!*

When Kingsley came toward him Tobias was more interested in his boss.

“Took you long enough!” Tobias threw at him as he made his way over to Hermione still sitting on
the sidewalk holding her left shoulder grimacing in pain.

“What are you on about we got here in 15 seconds!” Kingsley looked at Tobias a little
affronted.

Tobias took a deep breath and tried to reign in his ire. He was barking at the wrong guy and he
knew it.

“Sorry Commander,” he apologized, “Just a bit out of sorts at the moment. Please forgive
me.”

“Not to worry,” Kingsley said looking around, “Looks like you had your bloody hands full. Is
she…” he gestured to Hermione who was still on the ground but Medi-Wizards were now tending to
her.

“I think she'll be ok,” Tobias nodded feeling very relieved, “Took a curse in the left
shoulder,” he gave the Commander a significant look, “That warded body amour you had the Department
of Mysteries develop is the best damned thing since the wand Commander!”

Kingsley smiled.

“I'll pass the word along. I'm just glad it works.”

Tobias knelt next to his boss looking concerned.

“How you feeling,” he asked.

“Like I've been trampled by a stampeding herd of mountain trolls,” she quipped, “Any more
silly questions?”

“No boss,” he chuckled.

“How's are Muggle doing?” she asked trying to turn to see him.

“What! I don't give a damn about that barmy Muggle…”

“Tobias!” She stated in a stern reprimand, “You and all the others are on my *very* naughty
list right now so don't push it mister!”

He knew she was angry no-one followed her direct order to get the Muggle to safety and he knew
there would be hell to pay but at the moment, seeing the stormy look in her *very much alive*
eyes, he didn't really care. He'd take the ass chewing gladly.

Over the next half-hour the Muggle authorities showed up and got briefed on the altercation.
They were glad it was Clark and Bitterman again. Some of the other Muggle detectives were complete
jerks. At least Clark and Bitterman were willing to work with them the way the Ratified Statute of
Secrecy mandated.

After all, as Kingsley pointed out, the S.O.U probably saved a lot of Muggle lives today and the
Muggle detectives agreed.

They discovered the apparent leader of the C.D.T. crew was none other that Mulciber, an old
Death Eater. Kingsley and Hermione both were glad that one could be taken off the Most Wanted list
but it didn't make them feel any better that the Clan of the Dark Triangle was gaining in
strength and popularity among the nastiest of the dark wizard types.

“Whose idea was it to use the car as a cricket bat?” Clark asked.

“One of their curses went horribly astray Detective,” Tobias said with a grin, “I'd say it
backfired just a bit.”

Clark just lifted an eyebrow and nodded making notes on his pad.

Since no Muggles were harmed the Authorities allowed the Ministry to detain the surviving C.D.T.
thug but the Oblivators were going to be logging some serious overtime.

“Do you want us to transport the Muggle Hermione?” Kingsley asked.

“No Commander,” she said looking down at the man still unconscious. Tobias told her what he
suspected about the car and she was a little more than intrigued by this man now, “With your
permission I'd like to take him back to the S.O.U. compound with us. I have some questions for
him.”

“Are you sure that's wise Director?” he asked, “I though he knew nothing about our
world?”

“Well to be honest I don't think it would be much more disconcerting then waking up at St.
Mungo's or in a holding cell at Azkaban. He's seen my face before so it might make the
transition a little easier for him.”

“Very well,” Kingsley relented, “I can find no reason to object but do be careful won't
you?”

“Commander,” Hermione rolled her eyes smirking, “He's a Muggle!”

Kingsley smiled as he turned to take the prisoner back to the Ministry when Hermione stopped him
by placing a hand on his shoulder.

“By the way,” she said as she stepped up on her tip toes and placed a gentle kiss on
Kingsley's cheek.

Kingsley's eyes went wide looking at her touching his cheek where she kissed him.

“What on earth was that for?”

“You saved my life today,” she hitched the collar of her turtleneck sweater down just far enough
to see the silvery material of her magically improved flack jacket. Kinsley placed a hand gently on
her shoulder.

“And no-one is more relieved about that than I Hermione,” he said, “I don't even want to
contemplate the damage it would cause to loose you young lady. You are an inspiration.”

“Thank you Kingsley,” she whispered laying a hand on his cheek, “That means so very much coming
from you.”

The bond between them had been forged in the fires of two wars. He'd been through three so
there was no other she respected more. He was one of the very few left who knew what she had gone
through since she had entered the magical world at the age of eleven. There was no-one she
respected, admired and trusted more than this man.

“If I could pay you the highest compliment Ms. Granger it would be to tell you that if a man had
the ability to design his own child I could think of no other I would wish to emulate more.”

They held one another in a tight embrace for a long moment.

“Well,” Kingsley said sniffling a little, “I best get my prisoner into detention. Send me a
report at your convenience Director. I'm sure the tosspots in the Wizengamot will want all the
gory details so they can subversively leak it all to the Daily Prophet,” he waved without looking
back.

“I'm going to have a debriefing when we get back so you'll have that report first thing
in the morning if any of my people are in condition to write that is!” She huffed folding her arms
across her chest tightly.

Kingsley turned and looked back at her in surprise.

“Disobeyed a direct order from the Director,” her lips pursed.

“Eee gad!” Kingsley took as step back, “Should I start accepting resumes for replacements or
planning funerals?”

She chuckled.

“I don't think so but they'll wish this armor didn't work so well when I'm
through with them!”

“Indeed,” he grinned, “Well just do me a favor and transfigure the bodies into furniture or
something. Save me a mountain of paperwork!”

Hermione burst out laughing but it didn't last. She was pissed at her people at the moment
and she had some asses to start chewing on right and proper.

While Hermione was talking to Kingsley Tobias gathered the team together.

“Now listen all of you,” he said with a heavy sigh, “The Director's going to be plenty sore
at us for disobeying her order to clear the Muggle out and you know she's going to come down on
us hard so here's what we're gonna do…”

He started whispering his plan. Some started giggling and laughing while some of the others
swatted at them to keep quiet. When they broke huddle they all had very down trodden and sorrowful
faces.

When Hermione joined her team the faces didn't even put a dent in the Ice Queen's frozen
demeanor.

She ordered two of her staff to escort the Muggle back to the compound and place him in
confinement. She then sent for a Healer and his assistant from St. Mungo's, one that handled
most all their medical needs and pressed him into service to check the Muggle over carefully and to
leave his assistant for a few days until the Muggle was back to full health.

After she saw to the Muggle's comfort she called her team to the Situation Room for an arse
chewing/debriefing before she started writing her report.

When she blew into the room like a raging tsunami she was completely unprepared for what she
saw…

All the members of the team were wearing huge cone shaped hats like gnomes would wear and across
the front of each was the word DUNCE in bright glowing and blinking red letters. They had
transfigured all their seats into high chairs like infants use but large enough for adults.

At the vary same instant they all said…

“We're sorry Madam Director for disobeying your direct order. We promise it will never
happen again. Please don't punish us PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE!” Then they all stuck their bottom
lips out like they were pouting.

Hermione burst out laughing so hard she had tears coming out of her eyes. After a moment she
couldn't breathe. The picture was just too damned funny for words and her ire simply
evaporated.

When she finally regained control of herself she stomped her foot like she did when she was a
child.

“You took the Mickey right out of a perfectly well deserved butt-chewing! I should curse the lot
of you!”

But she was smiling and laughing when she said it.

After they set things back in order and had their debriefing and after all the intel was
gathered and organized Hermione leaned out over the table for a moment.

“Listen to me each and every one of you,” she said seriously making eye contact with all of
them, “I know the reason behind *not* following my order and no-one is more thankful for
having people who care about me more than I but when I give you an order from this day forward you
*will* follow it *immediately* and *without question*, is that perfectly clear?”

She waited until every one of them acknowledged her request. She took a deep breath and
sighed.

“There is no question in my mind that I can trust you all to do what's right,” she added a
bit sadly. She was tired and still very sore from her ordeal and she wanted to rest, “but I have
seen things and been through things that would give you all screaming nightmares so please, I do
not take giving orders lightly and would never even think of putting any of you in harms way
needlessly but when you've experienced the things I have and lived through the horrors of my
past *then* you can question my reasons and motives.”

“We have one hell of a fight ahead of us and I need to be certain I can count on you to follow
through. I know many of you see this infraction as a little thing, perhaps trivial in nature and
maybe you're right…but little things turn into gaping wounds if left untended and *I will
not* let this until fall apart or decay from within, is that understood?”

Everyone nodded, faces looking very sober now.

“I care very deeply for all of you,” she said, “To me you are my family now and loosing even one
of you would…” she stopped almost choking.

She took a deep breath to gather her wits.

“The greatest and most precious gift you can give me is to come out on the other side of this
nightmare healthy, whole and *alive* and being the horrible taskmaster and annoying harpy that
I am I expect nothing less!” She snapped her head in a fervent nod, “So there,” she stuck her
tongue out at all of them, “I got to chew your butts anyway! Ha!”

Everyone burst out laughing, some of the girls still had tears streaming down their cheeks but
couldn't help but crack up seeing their serious fearless leader sticking her tongue out at
them.

As the day came to a close Hermione found herself neck deep in a steaming hot bathtub full of
soothing scented bath oils and bubbles. She simply let herself drift away in and out of
consciousness until she looked like a human raisin.
 Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7
-->



11. Chapter 11
--------------



**Prince of The Dark Triangle**

*Details, descriptions, items and characters of the Harry Potter series are the sole property
of J.K.Rowling, et al and used only within the context of this story and my not be otherwise
reprinted, sold, or used for any other purpose. Original characters and plot are mine and my not be
used in any other {for profit} form without permission…*

**Chapter 11**

Teresa Marigold stood watching her fellow CDT members battle with what appeared to be the entire
staff of the Special Operations Unit including their Director. It didn't take a genius to
realize the Clan members were totally out-gunned and out-classed and the whole daylight raid on the
Muggle bank was going to be a dismal failure.

She also knew the Prince was going to be really pissed. The thought of having to report to her
superior, Barnabus Selwyn wasn't all that appealing either but at least she wouldn't have
to be the one to tell *him!*

When Teresa apparated to the safe zone outside the Malfoy mansion she was instantly surrounded
by Clan members.

“Go' a death wish girly,” one nasty-looking toothless bloke scoffed.

“Back off Blakely,” another groused, “Tha's one o' Selwyn's lot. Weren't you
assigned to Mulciber's crew this mornin'?”

“Yah,” Teresa huffed, “Was pegged as lookout but the Prince ain't gonna like what I
seen!”

“Tha' righ,” another younger guy with blood shot eyes enquired.

“What's going on here,” they all heard a stern voice behind them. The massive bulk of Evan
Rosier stood behind them regarding Teresa with a hot-eyed gaze.

“Caught this one tryin' ta' get in the grounds sir,” the toothless guy replied,
“She's one o' the ones sent out wit' Mulciber's lot.”

Rosier gazed at her for a long moment making Teresa very uncomfortable.

“You report to Selwyn don't you,” he asked in his deep gravelly voice.

“What's it to you,” Teresa replied with chin up glaring at the big man.

She wasn't going to be intimidated by these guys because if she did they would be like a
pack of starving wolves with a fresh bloody kill. Some of the men recruited into the Clan of The
Dark Triangle were not much more than animals to start with and she had been forced to protect
herself on more than one occasion.

She was beginning to wonder why she had joined at all but the lure of easy gold and no rules had
been quite enticing in the beginning and she had to admit, the nice little nest egg of jewelry and
galleons she had stashed away was nothing to sneeze at. Some of their raiding parties had been
quite lucrative and successful.

She had been a part of several raids on some of those buggery Wizengamot member's opulent
digs and scored some serious loot for their efforts. It had been like taking candy from babes.

“Then I suggest you get your tight little bum up to the house and report in at once,” Rosier
growled, “The rest of you back to your posts.”

Teresa made her way to the mansion as quickly as possible. She didn't like that Rosie guy.
She had heard rumors about him and his…appetite for younger women.

Some of those in the upper ranks of the Clan seemed to think they could do just as they pleased
and for reasons she could not fathom there seemed to be no shortage of little groupie-type girls
running all over the place ready and willing to please in whatever way a bloke wanted.

Teresa had managed to establish herself as useful in other ways and did her best to keep the
slobbering wolves at bay. She was not shy at all about using one of the Unforgivable Curses to get
her point across if she had to but since she had been with the CDT she had only needed to do it
once.

>^..^<

She had been sleeping in a room she shared with a tough old witch named Francis Connelly when
some blokes got it in their heads they were going to slip in and have their way with her and
Francis.

They got way more than they bargained for that night. It was the first time she had ever used
the Cruciatus curse on anyone but it had sent a message to a lot of the others since the scuffle
had awakened just about the whole third level of the mansion.

The old bat Francis hadn't even bothered with torture. She just killed one of the buggers to
get her point across but watching one of the blokes twisting and writhing in excruciating pain told
them she was not going to be treated like one of their little groupies.

That was the first time she had met *him.*

He came up the darkened hall with a wand held high, the tip lit with a ball of bright white
light.

“What the bloody hell is going on at this hour,” he yelled sounding horribly put out.

Harry Potter looked just like he did in all the pictures Teresa had ever seen of him. There was
little pre-possessing about the bloke. He was fairly average-looking if not a bit on the scrawny
side wearing Muggle clothes - a t-shirt and jeans and a battered pair of trainers. His round
glasses looked like two silver coins reflecting the glow from another wand as he came to a stop at
the edge of the fracas. His black hair looked as if he had just got out of bed (and he probably
had) - it was sticking out in every direction.

Her first impression of him was that he was a rather nerdy-looking sot but when she finally saw
his eyes it made all the hair on her body stand straight up and her blood turn to ice.

His eyes were such a striking green they looked like two sparkling emeralds but in the midst of
his pupils were two pin pricks of bright red like hot embers in a banked fire. His penetrating gaze
was almost manic-looking and filled with what Teresa could only describe as pure unvarnished
*EVIL!*

Those were the eyes of someone who could be capable of just about anything - even the
destruction of the *whole world!*

The pure fear he had instilled in her that night was something she would never forget. She had
witnessed several much older and larger blokes fall at the hands of the Prince and now she knew why
this seemingly youthful nerdy guy was completely in charge.

The famous Harry Potter was now completely *insane* and to cross him was to die a violent
and painful death!

>^..^<

When she reached the large room used as a meeting place for all the CDT generals and team
leaders she found Barnabus Selwyn in a discussion with Mr. Crabbe and Mr. Goyle pouring over a few
greater London street maps.

When Selwyn saw her he waved Crabbe and Goyle off and motioned her over for her report.

“So,” Selwyn asked in his usual haughty manner, “What news have you to tell us. Did we score a
large cache of pound notes today?”

“Erm…” Teresa balked, “'Fraid not govna. Seems them SOU tosspots was on to our game right
from the start. They jumped Mulciber and his lot before they could even get into the bank…”

“WHAT!” Selwyn yelled almost jumping to his feet, “Why that's…that's impossible! There
is no way the SOU could have known about this raid before…” but he abruptly stopped talking.

He noticed the elder Crabbe and Goyle leering suspiciously at him, the over-stuffed Goyle had
his arms folded tightly over his chest.

Selwyn glared back at Teresa with eyes narrowed.

“The only ones who knew of this operation before I put it into motion were myself and Antonin
Dolohov, the Prince's second in command. Even the Prince himself didn't know about this
raid. That means someone inside the operation had to leak it to the Ministry. You wouldn't know
who that might be now would you Ms. Marigold?”

“Well it wasn't me,” she huffed indignantly, “and I don't think it was any o' them
other blokes either besides…you put me under the same Fedelius Charm remember. When we left here we
went right to the bank. If any o' them others got wind to the Ministry they must have done it
by some means I don't know about… Hang on a minute!”

She remembered something about the attack she had completely overlooked until that moment. She
looked up at her superior with wide eyes.

“I remember right before those SOU tuffs got there, there was another bloke…a Muggle…yah, I
remember now. He was dressed in a fancy uniform or something like that and he had a gun. He shot
Mulciber with it!”

“A Muggle with a firearm you say,” Selwyn asked clearly interested.

“A fire what,” Goyle asked looking at Selwyn incredulously. Barnabus ignored the buffoon.

“It ain't no secret the Ministry's been working wit' the Muggle authorities,” Crabbe
interjected, “Maybe it was that bloke what spilled the beans to the Aurors? Either way the Prince
ain't gonna be happy about that.”

“Tha's righ',” Goyle guffawed, “Better you than us is wha' I say!”

Both the elder Crabbe and Goyle made a hasty exit from the meeting hall as if remaining anywhere
near Selwyn would be hazardous to their health.

“Useless lumps of twaddle,” Selwyn hissed under his breath.

Teresa couldn't help but crack a grin at that. She knew the two men who left were noting
more than boot-licking cowards. They fancied themselves *experienced advisors* to the Prince
but everyone knew the Prince thought of them as nothing but door mats on which to wipe his feet.
They were cannon fodder and nothing more.

“I suppose Mulciber and his crew are all dead,” Selwyn asked sighing wiping a hand down his face
in irritation.

“Not all o' them,” Teresa replied, “I'm afraid one o' the blokes got nicked. I
don't know which one but they winged him first. I couldn't see things too clearly from
where Mulciber told me to stay. Say boss…the SOU used a Muggle automobile to end the fight. They
threw it right up against the front of the bank like it was made out of parchment! Damnedest thing
I ever saw!”

“Lovely,” Selwyn sneered, “It just keeps getting better and better doesn't it? Anything else
that will get me tortured even worse?”

“Don't think so,” Teresa replied looking a bit ashamed of herself, “Sorry boss but there was
nothin' I could do. Those SOU louts had the whole area locked up tight. I had to get beyond
their wards before I could apparate out of there and I was afraid they would tag me with a tracking
charm so I went to Cambridge first and waited a while before I came here.”

“Well that's something anyway,” Selwyn smirked at her, “At least some of my people are using
their heads for something other than targets but if they had wards up then that means they did know
about our raid before hand and I just can't understand how. It's almost impossible to break
the Fedelius.”

Selwyn starred blankly off into the distance seeing nothing for a long moment. The thought that
the Ministry just might have their own spies on the inside of the CDT was disturbing but not really
all that surprising…*But who could it be?*

He eyed the young women standing before him but rationalized she didn't have the skill
necessary to break a strong Fedelius charm. If she had tried and failed she wouldn't be
standing in front of him. She'd be dead. There was no sense in throwing her under the
bus…yet!

“Off with you now. I might as well go take my lumps and I'll contact our spies at St.
Mungo's to see if our wayward soldier is there. If he is then I'm fairly certain we can get
him back. Tell no-one of this debacle and if I find out you played some part in informing the
Ministry of this plan I'll have your head on a flaming pike, understood?”

Teresa Marigold gave her superior a snarling weak salute and dashed out of the room.

When Selwyn made his way out onto the back terrace the Prince was there holding court with his
personal sex toy, Narcissa Black (she had now dropped the Malfoy moniker), who was old enough to be
his mother and his second in command Dolohov.

Antonin Dolohov had become an even more brutal and sadistic bastard since the fall of the Dark
Lord and in insisting the very one who had dispatched their master had now somehow become the
second (or was it the third) coming of the Dark Lord Voldemort he had gained his lofty position by
shoving everyone else sideways or doing away with any direct competition altogether.

“Pardon for the intrusion my Prince but I have rather ill news I'm afraid,” Selwyn said
matter-of-factly.

No sense in beating around the bush. It would only make him appear weak and the only thing that
infuriated the Prince more than weakness was dishonesty and he could somehow detect a lie a mile
away.

“Leave us,” Harry snapped at his two companions.

After Narcissa and Dolohov left with alacrity Harry motioned to one of the fancy wrought iron
chairs.

“Sit,” he demanded, “What is it this time…wait…let me guess - Incompetence from the useless
rabble I find myself surrounded by these days?”

“Not exactly incompetence this time my Prince,” Selwyn replied hastily, “As you know Mulciber
was one of our more experienced and trusted field operatives…”

“Was,” Harry asked tossing a scathing glare at his general, “That doesn't bode well now does
it?”

“Indeed,” Selwyn continued, “It seems the SOU had prior knowledge of this particular raid…”

“WHAT?” Harry lurched up off his chair. He was staring daggers at Selwyn now, the angry red
points in his eyes flaring like a blacksmith stoking his forge, “and how the hell could they have
found out about that Mr. Selwyn?”

*`Kill the incompetent fool!'* The voice of Voldemort growled in his head

*Why should I kill him for others failures? Ever heard the phrase…Don't shoot the
messenger?*

“I think the answer would be obvious!” Selwyn groused not letting himself be intimidated,
“I'm almost certain it wasn't any of the crew in the field. They had the Death Fadelius
placed on them before they left and the only one to return was their posted lookout and she
doesn't possess the skill necessary to break the Death charm. I'm speculating the Ministry
has someone on the inside of the Clan my Prince.”

Harry was well aware the Special Operations Unit - Hermione Granger's special team of highly
trained and skilled Hit Wizards - ran daily security sweeps of the entire city of London and much
of the outlying areas as well. Their tactics and successes against his Clan were beginning to
influence similar operations in other countries where the CDT was attempting to dominate.

He had lost countless people to their subversive operation alone and could never seem to get a
handle on where her agents might be. They covered their tracks well and staggered their security
details so as not to establish any kind of pattern. He had tried to do the same with his raids but
the fucking SOU seemed to show up just in the nick of time. He had his successes but the failures
were humiliating to someone on a quest to take over the world.

Harry knew what a stupid concept that was but the presence of Voldemort inside him would punish
him terribly for attempting to think otherwise and the Dark Lord's presence seemed to be
getting stronger every day. Harry's rather tenuous hold on his own sanity would slip a little
bit more sideways as the weeks and months passed.

Voldemort was now able to possess him completely for short periods of time by stuffing the
essence of Harry away somewhere inside his own body. There were times when he could not remember
things - When his world was nothing more than utter blackness. It was terrifying to realize he lost
complete control of himself during those blank spaces of time.

It was usually while he was with Narcissa alone when these blank stretches of time would
manifest themselves. It was beginning to worry him that Voldemort was making plans without him. He
wouldn't put it past the torrid piece of shite.

It was easy to determine the essence of Voldemort inside him had the ability to read all his
thoughts and memories as if they were his own but the reverse was not the case. The part of the
Dark Lord that resided inside him had developed a way of shielding himself from Harry. He
didn't do it often - just during the times when Harry's very existence seemed to be shoved
aside and plunged into utter nothingness for the duration.

“Send Dolohov back to me at once,” Harry hissed, “and if you fail me again Mr. Selwyn…”

Harry knew he didn't have to finish that statement. His general lurched to his feet and made
his way back into the house. Shortly Dolohov appeared behind him as Harry peered out over the vast
and sprawling rear lawn of the former Malfoy estate.

“You wish an audience with me my Prince,” Dolohov asked.

“Gather all my generals and team leaders,” Harry demanded without turning to look at his second,
“I want them all here tonight by eight p.m.. Anyone that does not heed the summons go and find them
and bring them to me…with extreme prejudice…is that clear Antonin?”

“Perfectly,” Dolohov smirked, “It will be done as you order my Prince.” With a slight bow he was
gone.

Harry turned and went back into the house himself. He found Narcissa reclining on a chintz divan
in what the Malfoy's had once used as a music room.

It contained a priceless, highly polished black Grand Piano, a large gilded harp and a modern
looking black pearl drum set complete with high hats, cymbals and a vast array of different sized
drums set on stands in a wide semi-circle around a twin base set up. It looked completely out of
place in the Victorian setting of the room itself.

Narcissa had told him the drum set belonged to Draco. He had, at one time in the distant past,
fancied himself a Muggle rock star when he had been younger. That was long before Draco received
the Dark Mark.

Harry said nothing but made his way over to the Malfoy matriarch and pulled her roughly from the
divan and towed her toward their bedroom.

It was the master suite that once belonged to Lucius and Narcissa. It now belonged to Harry, as
well as the rest of what Lucius Malfoy had once owned…and that included his wife.

The Ministry caught Lucius not long after the final fight and executed him for a litany of
crimes against the wizard world. They had struggled to catch any of the other Death Eaters who had
escaped the Battle of Hogwarts but Lucius made the mistake of thinking he could return back to his
former life. He had been wrong and Lucius Malfoy had taken the brunt of the Ministry's ire.

Narcissa had been *trained* by years of abuse to be as docile and subservient as a
de-clawed house cat. For a woman in her forties she was still incredibly beautiful although she
wore a glamour to make her appear even younger. For those who didn't know her she looked to be
no more than twenty-seven or twenty-eight.

With the help of the psychotic voice of Bellatrix, Harry had become a dominant and brutal lover
and he had decided to take Narcissa for his own. She had become nothing more than a plaything but
after several years of unquestioned loyalty and her eagerness to please him in as many ways as she
could he found himself becoming attached to her in ways even he could not understand.

When the essence of Voldemort was present Narcissa suffered his wrath but when it was just her
and Harry alone he took great pleasure in her body, satisfying his own now perverted lust.

When they had gained the massive bed chamber Harry swished the Elder wand and warded the room
with a silencing charm as well as bolting the large double doors. He did not want to be
disturbed.

With another swish of the wand Narcissa was naked and Harry just stood there for a moment taking
in her gorgeous and sensuous female form.

She was slender and the lines and curves of her body were graceful. Her breasts were full and
firm. Her black hair was long and silky, the streaks of silver making her look exotic. Her
alabaster skin appeared flawless but Harry knew the scars that existed beneath the glamour. He knew
her back was crossed from the marks of her taskmaster's whip.

He banished his own clothing and stepped forward to take her. He gripped her upper arms roughly
and kissed her. She did not resist. She leaned into his kiss forcing her tongue into his mouth.
Their breathing was ragged and harsh as they tried to devour one-another. She sucked on his bottom
lip, her chest heaving.

When Harry pulled back he just watched her for a long moment.

“Do you wish me to please you my Prince,” Narcissa asked in a panting breathless voice, “You
know I'm yours to command. Take from me what you want and need! I live to please you my
darling!”

In the next moment Narcissa slipped to her knees in front of him and took his erection in her
right hand and began stroking him. She gazed up at his face with eyes wide and rubbed his shaft
against her cheek. A small smile crossed her face as she closed her eyes and moaned softly.

Harry grunted as Narcissa's hand squeezed and stroked his shaft. He was as hard as an iron
bar.

*`Take the whore!'* Bellatrix' voice hissed in his mind, *`You know you love the
feel of her hot wet mouth... take it! It belongs to you doesn't it?'* Her manic laughter
filled his head forcing him to close his eyes and grit his teeth.

*Leave me alone you fucking psychotic bitch!*

Before Harry could move or do anything it was as if Narcissa could hear her sister's voice.
She flicked the tip of his manhood playfully with her tongue then plunged his entire length into
her mouth and into the depths of her tight throat.

It didn't take long and Harry was gasping for air. He grabbed Narcissa by her hair to stop
her. He didn't want to climax quite yet. With a tug he had her on her feet again, her saliva
dribbling from the corner of her sexy mouth. On her face was a slight look of surprise. She had her
hands curled in front of her as if she was expecting a blow or a punch or a slap.

Without another word Harry pushed her backward toward the king-sized bed and practically threw
her up onto it. He followed her and crawled to the head of the bed and lay down.

“Get over here and ride me,” Harry growled.

Narcissa scrambled across the huge bed and started to crawl across his body to obey but he
stopped her with his hands.

“Backwards,” he demanded, “I want to watch while you impale yourself on me.”

With a wicked smile Narcissa moved to do as he had bid her. Turning to face away from him she
straddled his lap and, reaching between her slender silky thighs she wrapped her hand around his
shaft and guided him to her moist center then lowered herself slowly down onto him until she had
taken his entire length inside her.

Harry watched as Narcissa's perfect bottom rose and fell, sliding up and down on his
rock-hard length, his shaft becoming slick with her fluid. He loved the way her body looked
stretched tightly around him as she pleasured herself on him.

*`You like watching my sister fuck you don't you, you pathetic little worm!* *If you
were any kind of man you'd get off your ass and pound hers like an animal!'*

Harry reached up and let his hands glide over her bottom as she rode his shaft at a smooth
steady pace. Narcissa reached down between here legs and stroked herself while she bounced up and
down on him. Her moans and gasps told him she was getting very close to climaxing. He loved
watching her get herself off almost as much as he liked to get off himself.

Narcissa threw her head back and her pace quickened as she neared her climax. Harry moved his
right hand and pressed his thumb tightly against her puckered little anus and pushed.

He heard Narcissa gasp as his thumb slipped inside her tight bottom. Her whole body shuddered as
she cried out.

“YES my Prince,” Narcissa hissed, “That feels so good!”

Harry felt her tight little bum tighten on his thumb and in the next minute she was screaming.
She threw her head back and slammed her bottom down hard on his shaft taking in as much of him as
she could, grinding her hips in small circles as she exploded in orgasm.

Her climax lasted for a long time as she cried out and gasped her release. After a few more
minutes she collapsed across his legs gasping for air, her body sweaty and flushed, shivering from
her intense orgasm.

Harry adjusted himself and pulled his legs out from under her. He positioned himself behind her
and - grabbing her hips - pulled her back up to her knees. He forced her legs wide and he pushed
her body down into the mattress by her neck.

Narcissa sucked in a breath but dared not protest, complain or try and pull away. She knew what
would happen if she did.

Harry moved forward and pressed the tip of his still-hard shaft against her dribbling wet
opening and shoved himself into her body. He began pounding himself inside her with as much brute
force as he could. The slapping sounds of his wet thighs slamming into her tight bottom were loud
but it was very pleasing to him. Narcissa's tight bottom shuddered with each impact.

With each brutal thrust forward he would let out a grunt. He could feel his swollen balls
smacking into her soaking wet bush as he drilled her relentlessly.

In spite of herself and her previous release Narcissa found herself responding to his intense
thrusts. She could feel his hard shaft sliding across her already sensitive clit as she tried to
move her body into the perfect position to feel his entire length sliding in and out of her.

Harry reached forward and grabbed a hand full of Narcissa's beautiful long thick black hair.
With a growl he yanked back hard forcing her head to snap back and causing her to impale herself on
his entire length while Harry ground his hips in the same tight circles she had done to him
before.

Narcissa moaned and mewled as Harry reached down around her body to squeeze one of her breasts
hard.

“You like that don't you Sissy,” Harry growled, “You like it when I shove it deep don't
you?”

“Yes,” Narcissa gasped, “Oh yes my Prince! I want it all!”

Harry resumed his torrid pace and could feel his own release begin to burn like fire in his
loins. Another ten minutes or relentless pounding found Harry spilling his seed deep inside her
body as he growled loudly while he climaxed.

After the last clenching thrust he simply held Narcissa by the hip with one hand and her hair by
the other and just reveled in the sensation of her warm wetness and the subtle contractions of her
own second climax.

They were both gasping and covered with sweat. Harry loved to fuck this woman. She never ceased
to please him but even as he had come to value her for the pleasure she gave him constantly and
without complaint, he did not trust her. Harry trusted *no-one!* - Not even the voices in his
head.

With a wave of his hand he summoned his wand. He released her hair and, still inside her warm
tight channel, leaned forward and pressed her body flat on the bed beneath him. He put his lips
close to her right ear.

“You know how much I've come to value you don't you Narcissa?” He asked in a
whisper.

“Yes my Prince,” Narcissa replied, still breathless from her climax.

She wasn't certain what was going on. He had never acted this way after sex before. He had
either got up and left or told her to get out or had simply fallen asleep beside her.

Harry licked the soft sweaty flesh just below her ear and reveled in the salty taste of her hot
skin and the smell of her sex. It made his nostrils flare. It made her shudder.

“I need those around me I can trust without question,” Harry continued, “Can I trust you
Narcissa?”

“Ye…yes, of course my Prince,” she whispered becoming a bit more uneasy.

“Would you ever betray me to my enemies Narcissa,” Harry asked calmly.

“What,” she asked incredulously, “Never my Prince! I would never think of betraying you and I
would kill any who attempted it! I swear it!”

“Is that the truth Narcissa,” he hissed, “Would you kill for me?”

“Yes,” she replied.

“We shall see,” Harry said softly.

He quickly leaned back and pulling his now soft shaft from her body he moved to where he was
sitting astride her slender hips and with his left hand pressed her down even harder into the
mattress.

With his right hand he pointed the Elder wand at the soft sweaty skin of her upper right
shoulder. Harry began moving the wand as if to draw a line in the air while speaking a strange
incantation in Latin.

As he watched lines began to appear on her pale skin. Three straight lines were carved into her
flesh to form a triangle and the thin slices instantly began weeping blood.

Narcissa began screaming but this time it was not in the throws of passion - it was in utter
blinding pain and terror. When she tried to rear back Harry punched her hard right between the
shoulder blades with his balled up left fist. It knocked the wind from her lungs and she began
gasping for breath cutting off her screaming.

He slammed her body back down again.

“Be still or I will make it hurt even worse! I'll carve you to the bone!” he growled through
gritted teeth.

Tears began coursing down Narcissa's cheeks but she locked her muscles waiting for the next
jolt of pain. She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood to keep herself from crying out again.

When Harry resumed his work he drew a fourth straight line from the tip of the triangle,
bisecting it right down the middle. When he had finished that he moved the tip of the wand in a
wide arc, both left and right and watched as curved lines appeared inside the triangle until it
formed a circle.

When he leaned back he waved the wand then gave it a flick. The bleeding wounds on her skin
healed to leave a perfect tin-lined scar that revealed the mark of his new order - The symbol of
the Deathly Hallows.

He then held his left hand hovering just above the mark and, swirling his wand in the air over
his head recited another incantation. The mark on Narcissa's skin glowed bright blue for just a
brief second then settled.

Harry leaned forward again and placed his lips close to her right ear once more. She was trying
desperately to quell her sobbing but her body began shaking with fear and pain. She couldn't
help it.

“You now bare my mark that is permanently etched into your flesh,” he whispered, “You belong to
me and no-one else. The mark bares a spell. If you try to betray me…you will die. Do you understand
Narcissa?”

She wasn't certain she could speak so she only nodded fervently.

Harry smiled and slapped her on her bottom playfully.

“Go and clean yourself up,” he ordered as he slipped off the bed, “and when you are done change
these sheets. I don't want to sleep in your blood and sex.”

Narcissa could only lay there, her limbs weak from not only two powerful orgasms but the strange
torture she had just endured. Harry didn't seem to take any notice as he dressed himself.

As he made his way toward the bedroom door he waved the Elder wand and took down the wards on
the room. He glanced back over his shoulder to see her crumpled form still lying on the bed, her
body shaking with silent sobs.

“Dress in something nice,” he said as if nothing untoward had just occurred, “We have guests
coming at eight. It may please you to know you might not be the only one flayed this night.”

He laughed as he left the room.
 Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7
-->



12. Chapter 12
--------------



**Prince of The Dark Triangle**

*Details, descriptions, items and characters of the Harry Potter series are the sole property
of J.K.Rowling, et al and used only within the context of this story and my not be otherwise
reprinted, sold, or used for any other purpose. Original characters and plot are mine and my not be
used in any other {for profit} form without permission…*

**Chapter** **12**

As Hermione made her way slowly into the Muggle's room she kept her eyes fixed on him for
any sign of sudden movement or violent behavior.

She wasn't expecting any because Greta, the Healer's assistant told her he had been
nothing but quiet, calm and a perfect gentleman…but she wasn't going to take any un-necessary
risks. Tobias was already upset with her for going in alone.

He was sitting on the edge of his bed. He looked so lost and forlorn it made Hermione's
heart pinch hard.

*This all must be so confusing for him.*

His hair was mussed and his pajamas wrinkled much as he had been when she came in and checked on
him earlier that day and it still gave him the look of a lost and lonely little boy.

When he looked up his eyes went wide as saucers and he flinched back against his bed with a
violent start.

“You?” He said, “It's…I thought…”

He reached out with one hand as if he was trying to touch her but withdrew it quickly not
certain she was real or just made up in his mind.

The look in his bewildered gaze completely shocked Hermione, frozen where she stood for just a
few heartbeats. It was a strange mixture of confusion, fear, relief and an utter longing desire
that was as potent as a physical blow.

“I thought you were dead,” He whispered, “I couldn't save you, my gun jammed, I couldn't
save you!” he started shaking with silent sobs as tears slid down his cheeks.

Hermione was stunned beyond words for a moment and she had no idea what to say to him but then
mentally shook herself back to some semblance of coherency. This young man seemed horribly
distracting to her and she wasn't comfortable with that at all.

“As you can see Mr. Humbolt I'm very much alive,” she said softly, “Please try to calm
yourself, ok and I will try to make things a bit clearer for you if I can.”

“Where am I,” he asked, looking around the room. He seemed completely out of sorts.

“Suffice it to say you are quite safe Mr. Humbolt and we shall leave it at that for now
alright.”

He nodded and seemed to relax a little. When his eyes met hers again she couldn't help but
feel the blunt-force intensity of his gaze like tractor beams.

“How do you know my name?”

“I know almost everything there is to know about you Mr. Humbolt. My name is Hermione Granger. I
am the Director of a Special Operations Unit of a rather secret law enforcement agency that exists
here in London and that is all I can tell you for now so please don't ask for more
details.”

She was trying to be as pleasant as she could as she edged closer to his bed slowly.

Again he nodded saying nothing but letting her words absorb into his mind.

“Mr. Humbolt I need to ask you some questions,” she inquired, “I know you've been through a
rather strange and confusing ordeal and if it's too soon…”

“No,” he said, glancing around appearing very frightened but then he swallowed hard, “I…I'm
fine…Ask your questions.”

“Very well,” Hermione replied then pulled a chair up close to his bed but just out of arm's
reach, “Thank you and I think it would be better if you relaxed. Make yourself comfortable Mr.
Humbolt. I assure you this won't take long.”

He nodded again and leaned back on his bed. Hermione could tell his breathing was still a bit
labored but there were things she needed to know.

“Mr. Humbolt, as I said I need some information from you so please be as honest with me as you
can ok.”

“Of course,” he replied, “I have no reason to lie to you Ms. Granger.”

“Excellent, thank you Mr. Humbolt…”

“Please call me Byron,” he requested quietly.

“Erm,” Hermione replied a bit tersely, “I think you and I should keep things on a professional
level Mr. Humbolt. I mean no disrespect but I think that best for now.”

He nodded again.

*Oh well,* he thought, *So much for trying to get to know her better…*

But he realized this woman, as completely physically gorgeous as she was probably had a whole
stable of men just begging to fulfill her every whim and wish.

If he only knew the truth he would have quickly realized what a stupid thought that was and he
had completely missed the - *for now -* part.

“What can you recall about the incident as it happened from your perspective Mr. Humbolt? Please
realize I need you to be as specific and as detailed as possible even if it seems unimportant or
insignificant to you, alright?”

“Umm,” he stammered, “alright,” he took a deep breath, tried to relax and let his mind go back.
He recounted everything he could remember. When he got to the part where he was describing the
black billowing clouds descending from the sky she thought his comparison to military ordinance was
quite clever and resourceful.

“You were in the Mu…” she had almost let the word Muggle slip and she mentally slapped herself,
“err…Military for four years, yes? I suppose you know a lot about ordinance and how it works?”

“Yes,” he replied, “Way more than I would like to.”

“I see,” she asked intrigued, “Why is that? Please explain.”

He told her about his convoy being hit with bombs planted in the dirt beside the road. He
described what affect they had on vehicles and personnel and how heinously dangerous they were. He
also told her about ground-fired mortar shells, shoulder-fired rocket propelled grenades that could
wipe out a tank as well as other ordinance he had encountered.

Hermione was horrified and she felt like crying but she swallowed hard telling herself she had
asked so there was no reason for her to be squeamish. She realized this man sitting on the bed must
have gone through hell…the *real* hell, not just an affectation.

When he got to the part where the strange sticks and even stranger jets of light came into play
he began asking his own questions.

What was curious to Hermione was that he seemed not to remember the car at all. The fact that he
used his latent magic energy to throw a three-thousand pound car more than one hundred meters, five
meters off the ground and smash it to bits against a building was utterly remarkable but she had
never encountered a Latent before so she was in completely uncharted territory.

“I know there is much you don't understand yet Mr. Humbolt and all I will say at this point
is I think it best to take things one step at a time, agreed?”

He said nothing.

“I realize that's not a very satisfactory response but I'm going to have to ask you to
trust me for a while, at least on that. What's most important is that you get to full strength
before we delve into any…strangeness surrounding this incident. I'm afraid it's the best I
can offer for now. I have my reasons.”

“Alright,” he said a bit aggravated. He didn't like being kept in the dark, “I suppose I
don't have much of a choice do I. Am I being held prisoner or something?”

That was like a cold slap across the cheek for her. Her immediate reaction was indignant but
then she tried to see things through his eyes and it quelled her ire to a lesser degree.

“Of course not,” she said rather stiffer than she wanted but she knew that was how he perceived
all this so she decided to fib a little to calm his concerns, “When the attack occurred we thought
there had been only the five but I'm almost certain there were more lurking about and
unfortunately they escaped.”

“While I'm not certain and have no evidence to prove it we suspect the ones who escaped went
back and told their superiors what transpired. As a result we speculate they know about you and by
now it wouldn't surprise me if they knew as much about you as we do Mr. Humbolt so while you
are not officially being held against your will we felt it in your best interest and safety to keep
you here in…protective custody if you will, understand what I'm saying?”

“Yes,” he replied feeling a bit stupid, “Thank you.”

“Not at all,” she said offering her little smirk.

What she had just told him was a complete work of fiction but she justified herself by
attempting to *keep the peace* and try to reduce the stress he was feeling. Little did she
know she was absolutely correct in her supposed assumptions about someone watching what had
happened.

“While I'm not going to pretend that what you did wasn't horribly irresponsible and
excessively dangerous I feel responsible for not removing you from the scene immediately.”

He sat up and glared at her for a moment. He couldn't seem to quell the anger that suddenly
swelled inside his chest. Hermione quickly held up her hand to try and calm him.

Before he could calm himself the candles on his bed-side table flared brightly as the flames
shot up like flamethrowers but in the next moment settled back to normal, the candles a little
warped.

*Oh Dear!*

“Please,” she implored, acting like nothing untoward had happened, “You must admit taking on
five armed assailants alone with no cover was a bit…risky, yes?”

Byron said nothing but blushed to the roots of his hairline folding his arms across his chest
defiantly.

Hermione grinned. She was half expecting him to stick out his bottom lip and begin to pout.

It was one thing to pick at your own scabs but to have someone else stick their finger in your
open wound was just humiliating. Byron raised his hands to his face and pulled them down in
frustration.

“Ok, so it wasn't the smartest thing I've ever done but…”

“Oh, believe me Mr. Humbolt,” Hermione stated matter-of-factly, “I know why you did what you
did.” She glanced at him sideways for a moment as their eyes met briefly, “It's one of the
things that separates the men from the boys.”

The way she said that and the look in her eyes made him tingle all over. He couldn't help
it.

“May I ask a few more questions Mr. Humbolt?”

He nodded pulling his knees up to his chest crossing his arms over them.

“Have you ever had strange things happen to you, things you could not explain, things that made
no sense?”

His head snapped toward her pinning her with his intense gaze again. This time his eyes were
full of suspicion. Hermione just sat quietly waiting. After a long moment he responded more than a
bit guarded.

“Yes,” he said, “How did you…”

“I cannot offer you details at present Mr. Humbolt please try to understand and try to rest
assured that we possess some rather unique knowledge.”

He nodded not feeling at all rested or assured of anything at the moment. He was beginning to
feel he had fallen head first into a really bad episode of the Twilight Zone.

“Can you describe one of those strange incidents for me please,” she asked putting her pen to
her note pad. She thought it better not to use her usual quill and parchment in front of him just
yet.

*Baby steps Granger.* She had told herself while planning her interview.

Byron told her about the incident on his 15th birthday when he found himself on the
roof. When he looked at her she didn't seemed surprised or shocked at all and he found himself
a bit shocked by *that*.

She just nodded her head listening intently scribbling on her notepad. When he was finished she
asked the next question without looking up.

“And how did you feel right after the event occurred, any more pain or fever?”

“Umm, no actually,” he replied getting even more uneasy, “I felt better, much better.”

Again, she didn't seem at all surprised.

“One more question if you please Mr. Humbolt and I'll let you get some much needed food and
rest, alright?”

He nodded.

“After you woke up here after this most recent incident how did you feel?”

He searched himself for a moment. There was no pain or pressure at all and he had reveled in the
relief of it even though he had no idea what the hell was going on. It was better than he had felt
in many years.

“I feel…relieved,” he responded wearily, “better than I have in a long time.”

Hermione smiled. It was one of the things she was hoping to hear. She got to her feet and looked
down at him for a moment.

“As I'm sure you are clever enough to surmise for yourself I know what's causing the
pressure and blinding headaches you suffer from Mr. Humbolt and part of what I'm attempting to
ascertain right now is the…feasibility of telling you more.”

“I must decide if I should bring you into our confidence or simply make sure you're fully
healed and send you on your way. I'm not certain which direction I will go yet and I request
you not press any of the other staff for details if you please.”

“I know this will probably not set well with you Mr. Humbolt but there is a method to my madness
as they say. I must ask something of you even though I don't feel I have the right but I
believe it is necessary going forward no matter what decision is reached.”

“What is that Ms. Granger?” he asked feeling even more confused and agitated.

“Please try and keep an open mind Mr. Humbolt,” she said as she made her way to the door of his
room, “That's all I ask.”

“Since you are *not* a prisoner Mr. Humbolt I don't want you to feel you are confined
to these quarters. You may have access to whatever part of the compound you wish. We have a very
well designed weight training area in what we call out practice room as well as full kitchen
amenities, television room with cable as well as a rather complete library of films on DVD, music
and even a computer or two. You are most welcome to use them at your leisure but I must ask you to
refrain from entering the living quarters where the other members of my staff reside and…” she
turned to look at him for a moment, “I wouldn't try to leave the compound Mr. Humbolt. That
would not be wise.”

“It's not that we are forcing you to stay it's just that there are safeguards in place
to keep the undesirables out and these safety measures cannot distinguish between malicious intent
and an innocent error in judgment…understand?”

He nodded saying nothing. As Hermione reached for the doorknob he spoke in a very soft voice
that was difficult to hear.

“I'm really glad you survived Ms. Granger. I think it would have been a horrible tragedy if
you didn't.”

“You know nothing about me Mr. Humbolt but thank you all the same.”

“I know you're the…” but he stopped.

“I'm the what Mr. Humbolt,” She turned looking at him with eyebrows raised. She was
definitely intrigued.

“Nothing,” he said looking away, “I'm…just nothing. Never mind. I'm sorry I didn't
mean to say anything.”

But Hermione saw that he had blushed red hot to the roots again. She turned and let herself out
of his room wondering what he was thinking. She was almost afraid to speculate.

>^..^<

“Well,” Tobias asked as the team sat assembled in the situation room once again.

She had called for the impromptu meeting shortly after her interview. She wanted to see what her
team thought and let them offer their input on the matter of the Muggle.

“There's no question the information the Unspeakable gave you about Latents was accurate, at
least, for this case,” Hermione stated. “The Muggle's history revealed he's been suffering
from the effects of his magic since the age of twelve. I suspect it started before that but the
first physician's reports and records begin at that age.”

“What's more my investigation revealed a significant reduction in pain, stress and pressure
after certain anomalous events occurred throughout his life, this latest occurrence one of the most
significant.”

She leaned forward on her folded arms looking around at all her people.

“I have an idea and I wish to hear your assessment of it before I make any decision about what
to do with the subject.”

Part of Hermione was uncomfortable referring to this man as *the Muggle* or *the
subject* because he was a human being with feelings and a life but there was another part of her
that was almost sure if she allowed herself to begin to see him that way she would find herself
becoming attached in ways she wasn't certain were safe or healthy for her right now.

There was a definite attraction between them, weather physical or emotional she had no clue nor
did she want to actively pursue it. She needed to stay focused…

“It is my assessment he should be trained…”

A cacophony of voices erupted around the table both for and against the idea. Hermione simply
held up her hands and the noise came to an abrupt halt.

“Please, let's go about this in a dignified manner if you please. I'll hear from all of
you but not all at once. Number One, let's start with you.”

Tobias leaned forward with hands clasped together in front of his face for a moment.

“If the reason for training this Muggle is to keep him from blowing up, for the lack of a better
description, then I'm all for that however, it will mean exposing him to our world. That will
also mean he will no longer be able to go back to his previous life as a Muggle.”

“Yes, that is true and I have given that much thought. We know he was somewhat of a loner in his
Muggle life due to his physical condition. That being said I'm not sure the transition to our
world would be that detrimental to him in that regard. It will be a rather monumental task to
remove him from the Muggle world without raising suspicion but not impossible.”

“How do we know he would even want to make the transition,” Brandy Honeywell asked, she was
next.

“At this point,” Hermione replied, “We don't but if he was educated with the means to keep
the headaches away something tells me he would have little problem making the change but of course
we can't have a Muggle running around loose in the Muggle world with a wand without the
knowledge of the Statute of Secrecy now can we?” She smirked.

Chuckles could be heard all around.

“Who's going to train him,” Marcus Pilchard asked.

“That's a very good question Marcus and one I wanted to present to you all,” Hermione said,
“The correct procedure, not that there is an official one I could find about dealing with this sort
of thing, would probably be to hand him over to the Ministry and let them deal with him…”

“I agree,” Tobias cut in. Hermione flashed him a very annoyed look before continuing.

“But I have my reasons why I think we should be the ones to train this man.”

“But Director,” Rychart Listell interjected, “It takes years to train to be competent at magic.
Are we prepared to invest that kind of time with a completely untrained Muggle?”

“No,” Hermione urged, “Of course not. What we will teach him will be mostly the basics and
instruct him on how to control and focus his power. How far he chooses to go after that will be
completely up to him.”

Agent Listell nodded.

“Mr. Sizemore,” Hermione acknowledged. Daniel was leaning back with arms crossed in deep
thought.

“If it's just a question of getting him up to scratch on magic to keep the bloke's head
from exploding I find myself agreeing with Tobias. I think this should be something the Ministry
should deal with. While I realize Hogwarts no longer exists at the moment there are those at the
Ministry who are much better equipped to handle something like this. We've got a war to
fight.”

Hermione leaned back in her seat crossing one leg over the other wrapping her hands around one
knee.

“You are, of course, right about everything you just said Mr. Sizemore and under normal
circumstances that's exactly the course of action I would take but let me ask you a few
questions if I may.”

“Of course Director,” Daniel said sitting up straight.

“What does it take to fight a war?”

Daniel thought for a moment.

“Well,” he replied, “It takes resources…” Hermione nodded in agreement, “and people willing to
fight…”

“Yes, Mr. Sizemore,” Hermione said pointing a finger at him grinning, “It takes soldiers and
where do soldiers come from Mr. Sizemore?”

“Why they're trained, of course,” he quipped, “I mean soldiers aren't exactly conjured
from thin air now are they?”

Hermione smiled even wider.

“And if you want to train a soldier who is competent, loyal and completely trustworthy how would
you do it Mr. Sizemore?”

“Erm…yourself?” He responded a bit sheepishly.

“I think we're on the same page now Agent Sizemore,” Hermione winked at him.

“Yes but can we trust someone we know nothing about?” Saphron Warringham asked.

Hermione shifted in her seat.

“I would like those of you who knew me and trusted me completely before you began your
specialist training to raise your hands please.”

She looked around and didn't see a single hand in the air. She had made that point quite
clearly.

“Trust is earned Agent Warringham,” Hermione stated matter-of-factly. Everyone nodded I
agreement.

“So who's going to train him?” Thaddeus Hudson asked.

“All of us,” she replied, “You are all specialists in your own fields as well as highly
cross-trained in just about every discipline there is to be known in the magical world.

Good gracious if we can't train one Muggle in the basic elements of magic then what chance
do we stand against an army of crafty devious murderers and cut-throats?”

Most started turning a bit pink in the cheeks.

“This group is the best of the best and I know I've said it time and time again,” Hermione
pressed, “You wouldn't be here if you weren't. I think we can handle this little
distraction without coming apart at the seams don't you think?”

“So you plan to make him one of us,” Tobias asked.

“That's a fair question Number One and my answer is…not exactly,” Hermione responded
cryptically. The others looked a bit confused. She held up a hand as she got up and began pacing
behind her chair with hands clasped behind her back.

“The Commander has been trying to find a way to infiltrate the C.D.T. and get an agent on the
inside to get better and more accurate intel than all the second hand nonsense we've been
getting up till now yes?”

Nods all around.

“And I have emphatically stated that I would not risk any of you because you're too well
known to many of the C.D.T. members so we need someone completely unknown to the C.D.T…. someone
they couldn't possibly know…”

She paused letting her words sink into her clever people's minds.

“So you want to teach this bloke magic then train him how to be our spy,” Marcus Pilchard
finished for her, “That's…that's bloody brilliant! Why the hell didn't we see that
coming?”

“Because our minds aren't wired like the Directors,” Tobias said chuckling shaking his head
slightly, “No-one's is!”

“Director,” Brandy said raising her hand slightly, “I don't mean to be a spoil sport here
but isn't that going to be awful dangerous? I mean do you think he'll want to risk his life
for a bunch of people he doesn't know?”

Hermione stopped glancing at Agent Honeywell for a moment.

“That's a fair point Brandy and not a question I'm in position to answer at this time
but here's what I know about our Muggle. Just out of school he voluntarily enlisted into the
Muggle Military. From what I could gather from his records he was a *real live hero*. He was
wounded in combat…badly, bad enough to end his military career if he was planning one. After he
healed from his wounds he attempted to enter into Muggle law enforcement but his headaches were the
only thing that kept him from being accepted.”

“Furthermore, as nothing more than an armed security guard we all watched him face down five,”
she held up a hand with fingers spread, “armed members of the C.D.T. alone without fear or
hesitation in an attempt to foil a bank robbery in broad day light. Now I know I don't have all
the answers but I see a clear pattern to this young man's life. Do you see it Agent
Honeywell?”

Brandy sat back thinking for a moment then a look of realization crossed her pretty
features.

“Yes ma'am,” Brandy smiled, “I certainly do now!”

“So,” Hermione asked leaning on the conference table looking around the room, “Show of hands.
How many agree the Muggle should be trained?”

All hands came up in the air.

“And do you agree it would be best if we trained him ourselves?”

This time all hands came up but one.

Tobias wasn't certain it was something they should be involved in but part of him understood
the Director's thinking. He had to admit it could be a good plan if it worked.

He also felt there was more to her desire to keep this Muggle around then she was letting on but
he would never expose that kind of thing in front of her people, that would not only get him tossed
out it would probably get him hurt…badly so as much as it went against his intuition…his hand
slowly came up in agreement.

Hermione nodded and looked at Tobias for a moment, her expression even.

“You're reservations are duly noted Number One and I appreciate your honesty on this matter
but I need to know if you will be willing to assist us in his training. I need to know if
you're on board with this because we can't do this without you.”

Tobias sighed, and then nodded.

“Yes director,” he said looking her square in the eyes, “I do have reservations but I also know
since we began this operation you've never led us astray so you've got my full
co-operation. I'll do whatever it takes to get him up to scratch even if I've got to drag
his arse kicking and screaming into the magical world.”

Hermione smirked as the rest of the team laughed.

“I promise I won't let it come to that Agent Fox,” she quipped, “If he's going to be
that much trouble then *we will* toss him into the lion's den and be shed of him.
We're not going to baby sit or hold hands. If he can not be trained or resists…he's out.
It's that simple. Everyone agreed?”

Again there was unanimous consent from the entire staff.

“Excellent,” she concluded, “So I'll expect accurate and impartial evaluations of his
progress. We need to know if he is capable. Now…you all have your assignments for the day...”

“Excuse me, Director,” Daniel Sizemore said holding up a hand.

“Yes Mr. Sizemore,” Hermione glanced up at him.

“Thaddeus and I noticed something while we were in our cover formation while you guys were
mixing it up. I'm fairly sure we were being watched. I think another member of the CDT might
have seen what happened yesterday morning.”

“Is that so,” his report shocked Hermione because of what she had told Mr. Humbolt. She had just
made that up, “Are you absolutely certain?”

“Like he said Director,” Thaddeus Hudson replied scratching his head, “We can't be sure but
there had been a young woman, a Muggle by the look of her dress, standing near the eastern corner
of the bank building. Daniel had pointed her out because she seemed quite interested in what was
going on and having cast our misdirection charms all over the place I thought that kind of odd.
When I looked back she was gone…just like that. The anti-apparition wards were in place as well so
I'm not sure how she could have got away so fast.”

“Portkey, I suspect,” Hermione replied seriously, “Ok…so what does that mean?”

Most of her people just looked at her a bit quizzically. It was Saphron who spoke up first.

“It means that if that girl was with the CDT they know their little play for the bank failed
yesterday, that four members of the CDT are ten toes up cooling down in the morgue with one on the
hook and they got spanked by the SOU's finest.”

All the members of the Special Operations Unit smiled widely at her response and Hermione let
them have their moment.

“You all did very well out there yesterday but there's something else we just might want to
consider. It's really nothing more than a glimmer of hope but here's what I think,”
Hermione shifted in her chair, “If the CDT does know about our involvement in foiling their daring
daylight raid yesterday then it stands to reason they will think they have a traitor in their
midst. There is no possible way we could have known before hand about this plan unless someone had
leaked the information so this lucky break…this gift we received… may just buy us a small reprieve
from the attacks and raids for a while.”

“Up until now we've been mostly a reactionary force unless we manage to spot something going
on while we patrol but the CDT's strikes in the Muggle world are so random it's almost
impossible. If they think we just might know where they're going to hit next they just might
pause for a while to try and flush out the traitor.”

“You've all been doing an outstanding job of frustrating much of their subversive activity
and saving lives but it won't be long until they start pressing harder. They've been
recruiting heavily. We know this so it stands to reason it won't be long until they plan
something big. I can feel it coming - I just don't know when.”

“I think if this small advantage gives us some breathing room it will give Kingsley a chance to
prepare and train some more specialist but we need to remain as watchful as ever regardless of what
the next few weeks bring.”

“Won't that make placing a spy inside the CDT even harder if they do think there is already
one there,” Bridgett asked.

“Actually,” Tobias said pinching his bottom lip for a moment lost in thought, “No. If they think
a spy already exists then someone coming in shouldn't be cause for concern. They'll look at
possible recruits a bit closer but when you're dealing with a bunch of thieves and cut-throats
how selective can you be?”

“Good point that,” Marcus Pilchard replied.

“Very well then,” Hermione said with a sigh, “Tobias…”

Hermione turned the briefing over to her next in charge to set the day's patrol agendas and
assignments and excused herself back to her office. She wanted to complete the training schedule
she thought would be appropriate for Mr. Humboldt's introduction into the wizarding world. She
just hoped she had not outsmarted herself this time.

She knew how inconsistent people could be sometimes and how she had missed the mark in her
assessment of personalities more than once but something told her she had pegged this Muggle
right…she had no idea how she knew but she was willing to take the risk.
 Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7
-->