Unofficial Portkey Archive

Chapter 21

How does Dumbledore know all that he knows? Well, the `How' is obvious. He has an informant. The question then becomes `who'?

Hermione had thought of little but the issues that Dumbledore had proposed. She felt that the key to defeating the Dark Lord - `Vanquishing' him as it were - was to be found somewhere in the sketch of a personality profile of Harry's opponent.

Every once in a while, though, this issue of how Dumbledore knew the machinations of Voldemort's inner circle would rear its head.

The white-hot bolt of eldritch fire whined past her ear. Fight now. Think later.

Rolling on her back, she catapulted herself to her feet. Ducking into a crouch, Hermione leapt into the air where Harry cast a spell, sending her higher into the air. From her vantage point, she was nearly overtop the old wizard.

Instinctively, she drew deeply on her magical reserves. It was like breathing deeply, just completely different. The first spell choice was the Battering Ram curse. That would kill him, she lamented. Harry was maintaining his constant stream of spell fire, which was literally rocking the heavily bearded wizard to his heels.

Instead of the devastatingly powerful curse, she snapped a string of Stunning spells.

Without looking, Dumbledore cast a wide area Stunning spell overhead while he sidestepped the flashes of red aimed at him. Hermione frantically shielded as she began to fall. The hasty Advanced Shield spell deflected the spell, but delayed her casting the Cushioning charm. At the last moment, she was able to cover her feet with the charm but that didn't preclude her hard landing. A loud crack announced a broken bone of some sort in her left leg.

The shattering pain was a clue also. Through the red haze that dropped over her sight, she tried to sight on her opponent.

"HOLD!" Dumbledore shouted.

Grateful, she melted to the floor. A quick Numbing charm eased the pain. Letting the throbbing pain fade away for a moment, she quickly cast the Bone Knitting charm.

Panting in a mix of pain and exertion, Hermione slowly stood. Gingerly testing her leg, she found it would hold her weight. Raising her face, she saw a scowling Albus Dumbledore directly in front of her.

"What was that?" he demanded. There was no hint of the kindly old Headmaster in his demeanour.

She knew he was referring to the Stunning spells. "I was trying to avoid killing you. I had the drop on you. Had I cast the Battering Ram spell, which was my first thought, I would've most likely killed you," she ground out.

Laughing derisively, Dumbledore waved a hand at her. "Foolish, arrogant child. I let you get there. You were never a real threat."

"You know, you sound a lot like Snape when you say that," Harry observed from behind the man.

"Or maybe Voldemort," Hermione countered.

There was a pause until Dumbledore nodded. "Good. As you are aware, Lord Voldemort will engage you on not only a magical and physical level, but also the psychological. Word games, threats, intimidation and the like are all ways he seeks to gain advantage. If he can cripple you with words, it's that much easier to dispatch you."

"And he appears that much more imposing to his followers," Hermione observed. Remembering the diatribe in the Graveyard, she wondered who the intended audience had been; her and Harry or the dozen and a half Death Eaters?

"Lady Hermione," the Headmaster began, shaking her from her reverie. In his most `professorial' tone, he asked, "Why did you cast the Stunning spell when you were overtop me? The Piercing charm is faster, the Battering Ram hex is inevitably fatal and the Cutting charm is more forgiving of a shaky aim. With that being said, why would you cast the Stunning spell which requires steady aim and so on?"

Affronted, Hermione snapped, "I didn't want to kill you, Headmaster."

The soft tone became condescending, "Oh, Lady Hermione, I doubt you would kill me. Please…" whatever he was going to ask became moot as The Smartest Witch of the Age interrupted him.

"I wouldn't kill you? Really. How many werewolves have you killed with your bare hands, Headmaster?" Ploughing on, she strode to the centre of the large field where they practiced. Hermione threw her arms wide and she knew her expression was probably not very happy. Her blood up, she taunted the old man, "In fact, let's go right now. Just the two of us."

The old man glanced to the bench not far from where they stood. On it, Sirius and Remus watched with grave expressions, but didn't move to intervene. Once again, Hermione was grateful to have such a family.

A small part of Hermione knew that she was reacting to all that the Headmaster had done - or not done - to her family. The systematic abuse of Harry as a child, the systematic abuse of muggleborn children at Hogwarts, the unjust imprisoning of Sirius and the possibility of Snape poisoning Remus were a constant source of anger and even rage for her.

The imprisonment of the Dursleys did little to assuage her ire. Even as Hermione knew that hurting this man wouldn't take back a single beating that Harry suffered, she blindly thrust forward, searching for justice.

She met Harry's hard gaze, looking for something. He would never forbid her from this course of action. Never in life would it even occur to him to do such a thing. However, he might ask her not to do so. From Harry, should he ask, he was asking for her own sake, not his own. He trusted her, respected her abilities and person. Looking deep into his eyes, she saw only determination and support. Turning back to Dumbledore, she raised an eyebrow, "Well?"

Nodding slowly, the old man replied, "If we must."

.oOo.

"James, I need to speak with you immediately."

Prongs looked up from his desk to see Amelia and a haggard looking Hestia. He wondered why the now-Deputy Minister hadn't been around the house during their mini-vacation. It looked as if he were about to find out.

Wordlessly, he gestured to two chairs across from his desk. Placing the parchment he'd been reading on his desk, James asked, "What's going on?"

Before Amelia had taken her seat, she closed and locked the door while casting a hasty Privacy ward. As she sat, the petite redhead caught James' eye, "Dolores Umbridge was brutally murdered the other day."

Eyes rounding, James asked, "Do you know who did it?"

She shook her head. "She was killed between the end of our interrogation of her and luncheon. The house elf delivering her meal found her…remains." James leaned forward as Amelia explained the details of the case. No abnormal magical signature in the room. No known dark curses cast. No physical evidence from the killer. No note or the like on the victim's person or nearby.

"In short, it's a dead end," James mused as he sat back in his chair. He'd thought about being an Auror while in school, but when he father had died, he realized that he had more responsibilities than time. As such, his personal fancy of becoming Head Auror or the like had been discarded. Being Lord Richmond (at that time) had been a time consuming task.

"What can I do to help?" he asked. "I'm woefully ignorant about investigations and evidence, but whatever I can do, even if it's holding your bag, I'll do."

Hestia's half smile surprised him. Even more so, when she turned to Amelia, "Pay up."

The dainty redheaded witch dug into a pocket, tossing a galleon to the blonde.

"What?" James asked.

"Never you mind. I do need your help. You were the person most in favour of executing Dolores. As such, many will see you as the prime suspect in her murder."

James' brow furrowed as he began, "See here, Amelia. I've…" His protests were stillborn at her raised hand.

"I believe you to be innocent, but it's the form of the thing. Tomorrow, we move to the Spanish Headquarters and I want to clear this all up before we move. I've got Arthur going through the staff and administering Veritaserum to them while asking just the one question."

"Did you kill or assist the killer of Dolores Umbridge?" James offered. Amelia nodded. "Let's do this now," he said as he sat up in his chair. I want both of you to be here as I'm questioned. Call in anyone else you deem necessary."

Amelia nodded as she dug in the same pocket as before. Withdrawing a small vial, she then cast three spells over her shoulder that left the door standing wide open. Hestia moved to the doorframe and in a loud voice called out, "Anyone who'd like to see his Grace questioned under the influence of Veritaserum about the death of Dolores Umbridge, come to his office right now."

James smiled at the smirking Amelia. "Were you a Slytherin in school?" He could tell that she knew he'd respond in this way, so she and Hestia had already worked out this devious little set up.

Shaking her head, the smirk became a smile, "Never in your life. Badger, through and through."

That made sense to him. An Hufflepuff would be loyal to their friends.

A small crowd gathered outside the office, a few leaking into the room. One young witch, Janice Woodlawn, blushed deeply when James smiled at her. Taking note, James wanted to make sure to tell Lily that Amelia's secretary had a crush on him. It almost guaranteed fabulous sex tonight.

The Minister must've felt they had a large enough crowd. Standing, she moved around his desk. James knew the drill. Tipping his head back, he opened his mouth.

Amelia unstopped the vial, tilting it over. As the drops fell, she counted aloud, "One…two…three."

The haze of the truth serum overcame him nearly immediately. James and the other Marauders had brewed Veritaserum twice in school. The first time had been an abysmal failure; the second time had been very interesting and sobering. It'd been similar to his experience when verifying his identity after returning to the time stream. It was the same effect now that it'd been then.

"Did you kill Dolores Umbridge?" he heard from far away.

Replying instinctively, he said, "No."

There was a murmur from far away, followed by the next question, "Did you assist whoever killed Dolores Umbridge?"

Again, the immediate response came from his lips, "No." It almost felt like someone else was answering or that he'd lost control of his body.

"Do you know who killed Dolores Umbridge?"

"No."

The feeling began to ebb, but it was still there when he heard a voice blurt out, "Do you love your wife?"

The handsome wizard replied, "With all my body, mind and soul."

Blinking, he felt the haze drift away in nearly a moment. He saw Amelia scowling into the crowd, "Who asked that?" she demanded.

Thinking hard, he remembered the last `unscheduled' question. Smiling, he told the angry Minister, "Don't worry, Minister. I'm not chuffed about that. I'll take out a page in the paper every day of my life saying the same thing."

The somewhat placated former Auror settled a bit. "Still, it's completely inappropriate."

Shrugging, he looked to Hestia. The blonde shook her head. "I was questioned before we came in here. I've been working double tides to get this all ready. Now that everything's underway, I've a bit more to do before I head home to get some sleep." Winking, she asked, "Should I speak with Lily?"

Smiling, he told his friend, "I think I'll work through lunch before heading home early. I'd like to see how Harry and Hermione made out with the old man."

Amelia stood, a half-smile on her face, "And tell your passionate wife about your declaration under Veritaserum, no doubt."

.oOo.

Lily was buried under a pile of forms. Many were smooth copies of letters or contracts that she'd already reviewed, requiring only her or James' signature. Right now, though, she was neck deep in a review of the governing principles of the Confederations that had been submitted for approval. Normally, she'd give this a cursory glance, but this update had been submitted by the Ambassador from the magical Empire of all the Russias.

By courtesy, the submitter of an update to a charter, rule or regulation would indicate the updated section of the piece by striking through the old section and have the new section in bold lettering directly below. The cover sheet of the document also would list the pages affected to direct the reviewer to the appropriate passages.

The section that had been stricken in the Russian update had been innocuous. Russia was proposing that the dues paid by member nations be paid monthly instead of every solstice. This new payment schedule, they explained, would relieve an economic burden from the smaller nation members.

The charter was seven hundred pages long but Lily wasn't willing to trust the `courtesy' of a country that had so soundly proclaimed them in opposition to the British Ministry in Exile.

On page six hundred and twelve, she found it.

A small section of the charter that delineated the rules that allowed for the disqualification of an ambassador. Among the obvious `conviction of a felony', `recall by sponsor government', and `physical assault of another member or a member's staff' was a new addition.

It read: 15. Any Ambassador who behaves in a manner inconsistent with the morals and standards espoused with and stood for by the International Confederation of Wizards may be charged with `Improper Behaviour' by any member nation. Said Ambassador will be tried by a five-nation panel of which three shall be security council members and the remaining two selected by the accusing nation. Should it be the verdict of the panel, the Ambassador may have his/her credentials revoked and the represented nation will be required to provide a new Ambassador.

Shaking her head, Lily circled the passage in red ink as she mumbled, "Those bastards." Thumbing through the existing charter for comparison, she verified that this `morals clause' was an addition to the charter.

Ringing a small bell, she waited for Agatha to come. When the door opened, the secretary asked, "Yes, your Grace?"

"I need to call a meeting with the Secretary General and the ambassadors from as many Security Council nations who are still in residence. Tomorrow afternoon if possible," Lily ordered in a clipped tone.

The unflappable Agatha nodded. "The topic, your Grace?"

Holding the annotated form in the air, Lily replied with a shark like grin, "This…proposal…by the Ambassador from the magical Empire of all the Russias."

After Agatha closed the door to make her calls, Lily dug back into the proposed update to the charter. This was bad. Should James be removed by hook or by crook as the British Ambassador by some trumped up charge in this kangaroo court, then the Ministry in Exile would have no legitimate standing. International pressure would be brought to bear on Spain, removing their home base and any further recognition by a country of status would be difficult.

Some countries - Russia for example - could make the case that the Ministry in Exile was really a terrorist group attempting to usurp the rightful government of Great Britain.

With a mounting fury, Lily read on for any other `overlooked' items.

.oOo.

"She is gonna fuck him up."

"Five galleons says a draw."

"You are so on. Hey, Harry!" Sirius called. "Come over here."

The Boy-Who-Lived trotted over to his Godfather and Uncle very hesitantly. "Sirius, I gotta help…"

"Shaddup, Harry. She's more than capable of taking care of herself." Waving to him, he added, "Sit down. I've a fiver on Hermione with Remus. You in?"

"No bet," Harry replied tensely.

Sirius shrugged, unhappy that his attempt to divert Harry had been unsuccessful. Then again, he really didn't think that Harry would be diverted. All hope for levity fled when he saw Hermione assume the Gladiator stance. Shivering, he wondered at her mindset that would drive her to the highly aggressive stance and the approach it implied.

"She's going for it," Remus muttered.

Harry nodded. "If it's good enough for Voldemort it's good enough for Dumbledore."

Sirius leaned forward, his forearms on his thighs. Dumbledore assumed the Flitwick stance. The stance that Filius had designed placed the arms, hands and wand in position to move rapidly to defensive spellfire and shields.

"She'll eat that up," Harry murmured and Sirius could only agree. The teens had been training with Master Filius for the better part of a year.

In a loud voice, Dumbledore began, "On my mark! Three…two…one…begin!"

Launching herself forward, Hermione began to sprint directly at the old man as she cast her first spell. It was an Illusion spell. Suddenly, ten Hermione Granger-Blacks appeared, all running at Albus Dumbledore. In unison, they all began to weave in and out of each other. Sirius couldn't tell which was the real Hermione.

"Oh, my. Well done," Sirius muttered. Wizards hate physical confrontations. In closing the space between the two of them, she forced Albus to instinctively back two paces before he cast his first spell.

Her second spell was another surprise to Sirius. The illusion had been in place for less than a second when an ear-splitting thunderclap resounded in the field followed by an explosion of light that blinded him.

Blinking to regain his eyesight, Sirius expected to see Dumbledore flat on his back while Harry and Hermione snogged in celebration. Instead, he saw the old man fighting like a tiger. He was casting spells in a deluge. Hermione bobbed and weaved. Rolling and jumping, she closed the distance between her and her opponent.

Padfoot was astonished that the old man could see well enough to fight. Spots danced in front of Sirius' eyes and he'd been fifty yards from that blinding light when it'd flared. Looking closer, he saw that Dumbledore's eyes were closed. "Mage sight," Harry commented tersely.

That was an advantage for Hermione. While the spell still allowed a blinded wizard the ability to `see' their opponent, it wasn't nearly as accurate or timely as normal vision. Unfortunately for Hermione, this was Albus Dumbledore she was fighting.

His Duelling shield affixed to his off arm, Dumbledore deflected her Paralysis curse while he summoned a howling wind. The wind whipped about Hermione, threatening to throw her from her feet. He couldn't hear it, but Sirius could see Hermione's lips curl back in a snarl.

A wide sweep of her arm conjured a wall of water that crashed over the old man. Before it'd even cleared him, she froze it solid. Wincing in pain, Hermione took a deep breath, regaining her wind.

Sirius couldn't take a breath of hope that the duel was over before the ice shattered with a resounding crash. Hermione rolled away from a hail of binding ropes that boiled out of the frozen shrapnel.

As she rolled, her wand flashed, transfiguring the ground under the old man to a large hole.

When Dumbledore fell into the impromptu well, she screeched, "Coracis!"

Sirius' eyebrows raised. Hermione and Harry rarely vocalised their spells. For her to do so showed how hard she was pushing this spell.

"Oh God," Remus muttered as he stood to cast a hasty Bunker Shield. He'd seen how destructive this curse was when cast by the teens.

Now it was Sirius' turn to see Hermione act as a Force of Nature. From one end of his vision to the other, Sirius saw a wall of earth lift in the air as the spell took effect. Tonnes of dirt lifted before raining down. Staring dumbfounded, Sirius waited.

Alert and bouncing on her toes while searching through the dust and debris for her target, Hermione failed to scan the one place that usually got soldiers in trouble.

From behind her, the battered form of Albus Dumbledore appeared.

By a sixth sense of some sort, Hermione rolled just before Dumbledore's curse hit her back. Now the old man was on the offensive. His left arm hanging slackly, he showed why he was the only one that Voldemort ever feared. Asphyxiation curse, Paralysis curse, Stunning spell, Reductor curse and even the Tripping jinx were hurled in rapid fire at Hermione.

She shielded when required and dodged the rest of the spells. Jumping high in the air with a magic assisted boost, she did a back flip. At the apogee of the leap, she borrowed a page from Dumbledore by vanishing.

He glanced left and right before spinning about.

To his godson, Sirius asked, "Did she Disillusion herself or Apparate?"

Harry smirked, "Wait for it."

A finger appeared from nowhere just before it tapped the Headmaster on the shoulder. Dumbledore flinched away as he turned. Hermione reappeared just as she punched the old man on the nose. The crunch was audible to Sirius as the old man's nose was broken yet again.

Sirius' brows rose when the old man didn't miss a beat as blood poured down his beard. He lashed out with his right hand, wand still fisted, punching Hermione in the face.

Her head whipped with the force of his blow, but the Vinewood and dragon heartstring wand was already in motion. A Concussion charm knocked them both off their feet. Youth served Hermione as she scrambled to her feet before Dumbledore could sit up. Lashing out with her right foot, the toe of her trainer caught the old man in the jaw.

Sirius winced. The snap of the breaking bone was audible. He's eating gruel for a bit.

The old man grunted as he rolled away from Hermione's follow up Piercing charm. What would've drilled a hole in his chest, instead cut a ten-metre deep hole in the dirt. From his back, Albus cast a quick-draw Punching hex that caught Hermione in the gut.

Doubling over, The Smartest Witch of the Age gasped for a breath. Her face purpling, her expression became feral. Throwing herself forward, Hermione jabbed her wand into the old man's breast. She smiled when she incanted, "Enervo."

Like a puppet with its strings cut, Dumbledore collapsed.

After a long look at her fallen opponent, Hermione fell to her knees, gasping for breath.

As Harry sprinted to his fiancée, Sirius and Moony were right behind him. When they reached the fallen combatants and saw that Harry had Hermione under control and that she wasn't too badly hurt, Padfoot turned to his old friend.

"Pay up."

.oOo.

Neville strolled out on the veranda in search of Susan. The only person out there was a man he really didn't like. Steven Granger gave Neville a cursory glance before furtively looking away. A small part of the sandy haired wizard felt sorry for the man. He was a first class wanker, but it must be hard living in a house where one is universally disliked.

Deciding to throw the man a bone, he asked, "Have you seen Susan?" He tried to use a polite tone, but it was rather difficult.

In a low tone, the man replied diffidently, "I believe she and Healer Price went to town. They did that disappearing thing your lot does about ten minutes ago."

Frowning, Neville couldn't help himself. "'Your lot'? Why do you do that?"

Taken aback, Granger blinked.

"You say `your lot' like we're an entirely different race."

"But you are," Granger replied. "I bet the biologists would call you a homo magicus or some such." Shrugging, he added, "Not like it's a grand divide, but wizards and witches are different."

Neville stared at the man with a disapproving glare. "Is that why you treat your daughter so shabbily?"

Taken aback again, Granger tried to formulate a response but Neville outpaced him. "You see, a few weeks after Harry's parents were…displaced…my family was attacked by people who believed that, because of the difference you're so keen on acknowledging, because of that difference, they were superior to non-magical persons. They wanted my parents to tell them were the Dark Lord had been taken. Did you know that there is a pain curse that, if cast continuously over a period of time, can drive the victim insane?"

By the pause of his little rant, Neville was speaking wistfully. All the years that he'd visited his parents in the Long Term Care Ward of St Mungo's washed over him like a breeze.

"I've seen the husks of my parents all my life. I've always wondered…wondered who they were. Did my Dad like peppermint humbugs during Yule? Did my Mum knit?"

"You see, Hermione is `in between' now. It's where I've lived my whole life. My parents were there but not really there. Last month, you were gone. She was moving on with her life. She was happy - well, once Harry recovered she was fine. Now, things are upside down."

Turning his empty eyes on the now silent man, Neville stared for along moment. Finally, he charged the man, "You owe it to yourself and your daughter to not be such a bastard as you've been. If you can't help it because of your beliefs, you should leave her in peace and bugger off. Stop hurting her."

Turning on his heel, Neville headed up the path to the hills. He needed a walk to burn off some of his energy.

.oOo.

"Hmmm, two teeth missing, your eye socket is fractured, your lungs are damaged from high wind exposure, cracked ribs and you lost two fingernails," Alex observed as she summed up Hermione's status.

"Can you grow the nails out to their previous length?" the brunette witch asked in an offhand manner after downing four separate potions.

Alex frowned. Hermione wasn't a vain young woman. Usually, the brunette witch walked about with her nails unpainted, much less caring about their length.

"No. The potion just re-establishes the nail to the maximum cuticle length. From there, it'll grow out." The blonde healer paused,

"What?" Hermione asked.

"You couldn't care less about your nails. What's wrong?"

Hermione chewed on her lip for a long minute until she began. In a small voice, she admitted, "I really tried to kill the Headmaster today." Shrugging, she added, "A part of me was a bit horrified that I went that far, but it was a very small part. That was the young girl who boarded a train to Scotland with stars in her eyes about adults."

Alex watched her look into her lap, examining her hands as the nails regrew, "That person is long dead. I've no illusions about adults now. They're just as flawed s children."

"Even more so," Alex commented to a resigned nod.

"I suppose that Dumbledore believes he's done the best he could under unfortunate circumstances, but I'd have to disagree." Her eyes narrowed, "Vehemently."

The Smartest Witch of the Age flinched as the Skele-Gro began to regrow her missing teeth while the Bone Knitting potion repaired her eye socket and ribs. "Lay back," Alex commanded. Shoving a last potion vial in her hand, the Healer directed, "This will put you to sleep for the next three hours. By then, the Skele-Gro and Bone Knitting potion will have run their course. You may be a little sore doing deep breathing, but the ribs will be fine."

Retrieving the empty bottle from the already drowsy witch, Alex whispered, "Have a good rest," as she slipped out of the room.

She nodded to the waiting Harry. His earnest expression tore at her heart. "She'll be fine. I just gave her a Sleeping Draught that will have her asleep until…" she checked her watch, "About 14:00."

He nodded before hurrying to his intended's bedside.

Alex dropped her bag in the potion lab before heading to the dining room. Rauri usually had a mid-morning snack on the sideboard, which ought to deal with her attack of hunger. Turning into the room, she saw Sirius and Remus explaining to Bill Smith and William about the slugfest between Hermione and the Headmaster.

Picking a few confections from the selection, she poured a cup of tea for herself. Sliding next to Remus, she returned his welcoming smile as she munched. Turning to the assembled men, she was unsurprised to see Bill Smith's brow furrowed while William was sitting back in his chair, contemplative.

"Isn't that dangerous?" Bill asked. His attitude was subdued, but there was a hint of anger and protectiveness for his granddaughter.

Remus nodded, "It is. But there's no other way to prepare for Voldemort. Harry…" Remus trailed off, as if he were searching for words, but was really trying to figure a way out of the sentence he'd started. Hermione's birth family was unaware of the Prophecy and Harry had firmly expressed his desire that they remain ignorant.

"Harry what?" Bill asked. He was experienced and cagey enough to realise that something was happening about which he was unaware.

Alex sighed. Secrets were unpleasant. Fortunately, William stepped in. "Mr Smith, I'm sorry but Her Majesty has instructed that we can't discuss this topic any further without her expressed permission."

Nodding her head in feigned agreement, Alex smiled to herself as she admired the Prince's admirable lie. A man such as Bill Smith would never question or go against a Royal Command. Even if it had just been invented.

The grandfather nodded appreciatively. "Very well, your Highness." Turning back to Sirius, he commanded, "Discuss it or not, you know the entire story. I expect you to protect my granddaughter, young man."

With a slight nod to Alex, Bill rose. "Your Highness, my Lord…" he muttered before leaving.

After he left the room, William smiled, "Mr Smith and my grandmother could have a good contest on most regal bearing. I think Grandmother would win. I think."

"I see where Hermione got it from," Sirius observed before drinking off his tea. Standing to refill his cup, he said, "He's a good man, though."

Finally able to ask the question she'd been burning to voice since Hermione had been shoved into her care an hour before, Alex asked, "Was Dumbledore going easy on her? Did she really beat him when he was going all out?"

Sirius sighed loudly as he stared at the ceiling. From her side, Remus quietly replied, "At first, I don't think Albus took her seriously. That gave her an advantage for a few moments."

"That's when she cast the illusion of herself, right?" William asked.

Remus nodded. "That gave her the offensive advantage. She pressed him, getting a few shots in on him." He smiled wolfishly, "I'd never imagine little Hermione Granger from her third year punching Albus Dumbledore in the nose, breaking it."

"Or kicking him in the face, later," Sirius added.

"Once the fight was on, I believe Albus ratcheted up his game. I think that combination of the Thunderclap charm and the Solaris spell showed him that she was serious. After that, he was on the defensive for much of the fight."

"And you still haven't paid me you skinflint," Sirius mused.

Watching her lover rolling his eyes as he dug into his pocket for the correct coin, Alex asked, "So do you think this was a representative fight? Representative for how a fight with Voldemort would play out?"

The two friends exchanged an uneasy look as Remus handed over the coin. Finally, Sirius shook his head, "Albus cast the Punching hex when Voldemort would cast the Killing Curse. No. I don't think it was a representative fight. Close, in the sense that Hermione and Albus had a fight that few magicals can approach, but not really the same as standing against Voldemort. I defer to James and Lily, as I've never fought him, but Voldemort is a lot tougher than Dumbledore. Meaner."

.oOo.

James settled into a chair next to his son. "It's s a bit different being on this side of the injury," he commented. Distractedly, Harry nodded.

The Father-Who-Lived took a deep breath, forcing his thoughts away from the debilitating memory of Harry's long-term incapacitation. Trying to draw both of their thoughts to easier topics, he cajoled his son into describing the morning's events.

After Harry finished, Prongs sat back in his chair, thinking hard. "What do you think?" his son prodded.

"I think she let it go too long at that close of a range. Voldemort is faster than a snake - as you well know. That close and there's no room to dodge or Apparate. If you close to grappling range, you have to put him down right fucking now or he'll eat you up."

After sharing his experiences with the Dark Lord and comparing them to Harry's encounters, they chatted about inconsequential things. They debated attending a European League Quidditch match, but James thought it to dangerous. Should they be recognized or their disguises fail, it could be fatal.

"When I was a boy, your Granddad was…well, he was born in 1890 so he was about seventy five or six when I was eight. We didn't roughhouse too much, you could say. One of the few times he came out, he taught me how to fly a broom. I was so excited I couldn't think straight. Mum was worried and fussing. `Charlus you're too damn old to be on a broom,' she fretted."

James smiled as he shook his head at the memory. In his mind, his parents were alive and well. His father with the slight limp and his mother shaking her finger, as she was wont to do when exercised.

"Dad wasn't having any of it. He handed me a brand new Comet 130, motioning me to the back garden."

"Where we flew?" Harry asked in a small voice.

Prongs felt his heart expand, "Yeah. So he did the standard `Don't do any tricks' speech before I even got to get on it. I was about to cry when he gave me a big wink as he jerked his head toward the house." His face crinkling as he remembered his father, James eyes twinkled. "I always loved flying. Part of it was because flying is just so damn fun, but also because my Dad taught me how to fly."

A band of guilt wormed its way about his heart as James looked to his son. He'd not taught Harry to fly. Harry was getting the shit kicked out of him by that bastard Dursley when Harry was eight. Forcing another smile, James held his gaze on Harry.

The elder Potter was more than a bit surprised when the younger Potter consoled him, "It's not your fault you didn't teach me to fly, Dad. I'm glad that we did get a chance to fly. I never thought…" he didn't finish as he was overcome with emotion.

Instinctively reaching out, James pulled his son into a wordless embrace. Kissing the crown of Harry's head, James told him, "So am I."

With a last squeeze, the men disengaged. There was a short double knock on the door before it opened. James turned just in time to see Lily appear in the now opened doorway.

"Is she alright?" the auburn haired witch asked in a whisper.

Harry replied, "She will be this afternoon. They beat each other up pretty brutally."

Lily frowned as she shook her head. "If needs must…"

"Yeah," Harry agreed as he returned his gaze to his sleeping betrothed.

Making her way to Harry side, she ruffled his hair affectionately. "How are you?" she asked in the soft tones adopted in a sickroom.

"Being on this side of the injury sucks worse than the other side," he replied, nodding his head at his immobile betrothed.

Lily smiled wryly, "It does at that."

They were quiet for a bit. Lily sat at the foot of Harry and Hermione's king sized bed, humming a tune as she lay back. After a bit, she told James, "You've a meeting with the Security Council and the Secretary General tomorrow afternoon at one."

That was an eye opener. "Really. Whatsoever shall we talk about?"

"The Russians are up to their tricks." She explained about the change to the ICW Charter. "So we need to insure that all the Security Council is aware of this proposed change."

James smiled. Most people thought that Lily was an innocent, moral upright woman who wouldn't say `boo'. How far from the truth they were. Oh, to be sure, she was a moral upright woman, but she had a mischievous streak nearly as wide as James did.

"How many members are still in town?"

"All."

"Good," James nodded as he thought about how to say what needed to be said in order to torpedo the Russian effort.

"Dad, can I just challenge this Ivanov guy to a duel? That would solve the problem quickly."

James laughed, "Don't tempt me."

"Did you bring home the document?" he asked his still reclining spouse.

Silently she nodded before saying, "It's on my desk. The really thick hunk of parchment covered in red ink."

Rolling toward him, she closed her eyes when she explained, "I went to your office looking for you. It was a complete madhouse with everyone packing for the move to Barbate. I saw Hestia. She said that you'd headed home."

"It was ugly this morning. Someone killed Dolores Umbridge," he sighed. There had been a passing thought about delaying the discussion until after they'd left Harry, but after a short reflection, it was a ludicrous thought. Harry had killed more people than James had. His finer feelings wouldn't be offended by this discussion.

"That's what she said. Are there any leads?"

Shaking his head, James muttered, "Not yet. I left before everyone was questioned with Veritaserum." He tried to be offhand, but hoped that Hestia had let the cat out of the bag about his `extra' question. Lily was an extremely emotional and passionate woman. Put the two together and it was usually a very enjoyable experience for them both.

"Hmm," Lily hummed.

Deciding that their son didn't need to be present for the rest of this discussion, James pulled Lily to her feet. "C'mon."

Once out in the hall, they headed to their room. Inside, he followed her to the bed. Cuddling together, James tried to be patient, but patience had never been his strong suit.

"Did Hestia tell you anything else?" James finally asked with an innocent expression on his face.

Lily began to shake her head before an expression of recognition dawned. James smiled, waiting for her to ravish him.

Very amiably Lily regarded him as she told him,"She said that Amelia's secretary is sweet on you. I put a stop to it. Little Miss Woodlawn won't be hanging about any longer."

Crestfallen and confused, James sputtered, "But…that's not it… what about…," before he tailed off to a whimper. "Not fair." His chin fell to his chest as he slumped in disappointment.

His wife's dainty hand curled in his perpetually messy hair, causing him to look up. In a low, sultry tone, she asked, "Or did you mean when you proclaimed your undying devotion to me whilst under the effects of Veritaserum in front of the entire Ministry?" Her lips began to kiss his neck, sucking lightly with each movement.

The crestfallen expression banished, James took his wife in his arms, branding her with his kiss. The levity banished for a moment, he pulled back to look deep in her eyes, "With all my body, mind and soul."

"I love you, James," Lily whispered. "With all my body, mind and soul."

.oOo.

Remus frowned. Reading the letters stacked in front of him, he shuffled back and forth between the three missives he'd received over the course of the morning.

"Shit."

Slumping back in his chair, he scrubbed his hair. Why now? Scribbling a note for Alex, he Banished it to their bedroom with a quick wand movement.

Dejectedly, he scooped the letters off his desk with a quick move. James had his meeting with the ICW today, so they wouldn't be able to speak until later. James and Lily were to be in Zurich all day - and probably most of the night. That was all right, for he'd some preparatory work to do before that discussion.

Reaching the Apparition point on the veranda, he twisted in place. After an angry crack he reappeared in an alley next to the Biblio Teca General de Barcelona. Ten minutes later, he slumped away from the internet terminal where he'd been confirming the contents of his letters.

"Shit," he muttered.

Closing the browser, he nodded to the librarian as he left the area. A café was on the other side of the street. Feeling the need for fortification, he headed for it. Absently, he folded the letters, tucking them into his shirt pocket. He needed an espresso and time to think. This news added a whole new complexity to the war.

.oOo.

"Am I ready?" he asked.

She smiled. Only with her did the self-assured, confident and even cocky persona dissipate.

"Yes."

Nodding with a short jerk of his head, he declared, "Right. Let's do it."

He turned on his heel, striding out of the office. She followed, quickly matching his modified strides. Hoisting the strap of her valise higher on to her shoulder, Lily was grateful that while her baby bump was no longer merely a `bump', she hadn't progressed to full on `waddle' stage. At six months along, the healer had been pleased at how well she was doing.

James was wearing his new robes with the Shrewsbury crest on his breast. They both agreed that they needed to make a statement today.

"Love you," she whispered. His back straightened infinitesimally.

Heading to the Hall of Nations, they turned together. His dark green robes swished about his legs, the gold trim and blazing crest shining.

Moving between the statures of Lo-Pan and Walker Boh, they entered the Security Council meeting chambers. Of the member states, all were present save Greece and Morocco.

Frowning, Lily found it strange that those two countries weren't represented. A portkey from either nation wouldn't last too long. Therefore, their absence spoke louder than any words.

Shaking the thought off as irrelevant, she watched her husband work the crowd. Moving to the UK desk, Lily began to lay out the briefing materials for the meeting.

"Your Grace," greeted the Swedish ambassador, Princess Birgitta. She was the sister to the King of Sweden and far more than a figurehead politician. "How are you today?"

Bowing over her hand, James replied, "I am very well, your Highness."

Greetings rolled in, each of the ambassadors warmly welcomed him until, that is, he reached the Russian ambassador.

"Ivanov," James hailed with a friendly tone, his hand extended in greeting. This had been a discussed action. James had wanted to punch the Cossack, but Lily had urged polite friendliness.

"it will show the rest of the members that you will work with him, so his discourtesy will paint him as the villain."

Lily, along with the other ambassadors and aides, watched with a silent intensity that was nearly suffocating. The Russian ambassador stared that the ambassador for Great Britain for a long moment.

Still, James' hand hung in the air, unacknowledged. Finally, Ivanov jerkily shook James' hand while muttering, "Potter."

Perfect Lily smirked to herself.

James turned back to the waiting crowd. As Ivanov sat, Prongs shrugged and exhaled loudly. His whole demeanour shouted, "I tried."

The Mother-Who-Lived was heartened to see most of the ambassadors return the conspiratorial look of amusement.

By general consensus, the ambassadors took their seats as the General Secretary moved to the front of the room. The per functionary tap of his gavel began the convocation.

"Members of the Security Council, this convocation has been called by Great Britain." Nodding to James, the Italian sat in his throne-like seat after declaring, "I defer to his Grace to elaborate further."

James took a quick, steadying breath. Normally, Lily would have rubbed his arm or the like in a reassuring motion. However, spousal affection had no business in this room.

With a quick nod to the Secretary General, the Duke of Shrewsbury began, "General Secretary and ambassadors, Great Britain is concerned. There are greater matters and smaller matters that we deal with on a regular basis." There were commiserating nods about the room.

"Today, Great Britain speaks of a smaller matter." As he hefted the proposed charter amendment, Lily watched the Russian Ambassador. His only reaction was a slight tensing about his eyes. Had she not been looking for it, Lily doubted she would have seen the man's reaction.

"In what I'm sure was an oversight," James continued, "The Magical Russian Empire failed to annotate the proposed change to the Confederation's charter. On page six hundred and twelve there is a proposed change that troubles Great Britain."

The previous evening, Lily and James had visited first Amelia in her new residence then the Queen. The four had discussed the `kangaroo court' as Lily called it, until late in the evening.

"After consultation with the government, I must protest this change." Holding up his hand, James added, "Great Britain has no umbrage with the proposed method of paying dues. We believe the change proposed by the Magical Russian Empire to be magnanimous and fair. The change on page six hundred and twelve is a problem, though."

The room was silent as James thumbed through the parchment. After reading the unmarked change aloud, James looked about the room. At every table - and the podium - each Chief of Staff was either searching for the correct page or sharing the packet with the ambassador. Only Russia was still. The rat-faced man stared at James, dislike evident in his face. Swallowing a scowl, Lily had to admit to herself, I really want to hex that man.

When the ambassadors had finished reading the called out section, each of the wizards and witches were frowning. The sword that was obviously pointed at Great Britain today, could be used on any of them tomorrow.

"While I am sure that the intentions of the sponsoring nation were noble, as written, this change to our charter could be used for ill."

Amelia had stressed that James make a point of reminding all that this wasn't just a proposed rule or regulation, this was their charter. It required a two-thirds vote in the General Assembly to pass and also a two-thirds vote to repeal. It wasn't easy to undo this action.

By right, Great Britain could veto the measure. As one of the permanent Security Council members, James could call `Veto' and be done. However, the Queen had been insistent that he convince the other to vote the measure down. "We must garner international support," she'd declared. "Should armed invasion of our country be necessary to restore the rightful government, then we must have their support."

The members were silent as they contemplated James' words. None of them were without opponents to their national ambitions. Any of these opponents (or enemies) could invoke this clause in a retaliatory effort or even in a pre-emptive strike.

Johann Straus from Germany was acknowledged by the General Secretary. "Germany is concerned by the wording of this clause. As written, a member nation could never be consistently represented. An ambassador could be stricken, a new one appointed only to be stricken in turn." Shaking his head, Strauss concluded, "Germany is not favourably inclined to support this change." It was fortunate that Sweden and Germany were two of the five rotating members of the Security Council It helped having staunch defenders in their corner.

Lily nodded minutely. The `not favourably inclined' attitude was as strong a denouncement as possible. The ambassadors couldn't vote `nay' without at least nominal consultations with their government.

James had retaken his seat. While she passed him a note with her observations of others reactions, she surreptitiously watched the Russian ambassador.

His face was carefully blank until he met her gaze. The hatred that boiled in his eyes surprised the auburn haired witch.

Refocusing, she watched Princes Birgitta rise to agree with the honourable ambassador from Germany.

.oOo.

In the midst of pouring an afternoon coup of tea for Hermione, Harry experienced his next glimpse into the future.

This time there was a sense of smell that pervaded the scene. Salt air. Pine woods. The unusual perfume that he associated with Rowan Hill's gardens. All mixed together marking the location of this vision to be inextricably at home.

Looking down at his feet, he saw a coffin sized hole. A paralyzing fear gripped him, surrounding his heart with ice.

He was at home.

Someone was dead.

That person was being buried in the Potter family burial grounds and only Potters were buried there.

Harry had been afraid in his life. Vernon inspired fear in his heart. It was an unreasoning, visceral fear. The Basilisk had the same effect. Not so much with the Dragon or even Voldemort, strangely enough.

All those fears paled in comparison to what he felt now. Someone in his family was going to die, should the forces put into play continue as they have.

As if drawn by an invisible force that he couldn't resist, Harry looked to the head of the grave. A small part of him hoped to have his fears allayed. Unfortunately, they grew.

Lily Potter
Beloved Wife and Mother
First Duchess of Shrewsbury
Lux Tenebris, Diligere Super Odio

Nearly panicked, Harry's head darted left and right.

Hermione was at his side, her eyes red and puffy in grief.

Sirius and Hestia side by side. He leaned heavily on a walking stick. Hestia's arm was obviously there for more than moral support.

On the other side of the grave was his father. James had a freshly healed scar that ran down the left side of his face. The real focus of Harry's attention was the continuous streaks of tears. Ribbons of agony coursed down James' face.

Remus and Alex, Harry noticed, were supporting James from either side.

An irresistible force, the grave captured his attention once again. Panic rose in his gorge as the coffin was lowered into the ground.

A murmuring from far off accompanied the slow descent of the coffin. The wind swirled and blew adding insult to injury as it scattered the flowers laid about the grave. The scream that had been conceived when he saw the name on the headstone wound its way up his closed throat.

The scalding feeling on his hand broke the trance. His body still tensed and poised to run and scream in defiance, Harry nearly stumbled as he returned to reality.

With a start, Harry shook his head. The Vision dissipated in a blink to be replaced by a searing pain in his hand. His thoughts were scattered as birds before a predator. Concentrating, he tried to remember. Tea. He'd been pouring tea.

"Harry?" Hermione's voice called. Blinking, he turned to her. The concern and caring radiated from her face.

"Mum," he breathed.

.oOo.

Even though the ratification vote was scheduled for that day, the Security Council unanimously (save one) agreed to defer the vote for one week to allow for consultations.

James had sighed in relief. Comparing notes with Lily, he was reassured. All the Security Council was behind them. The proposed alteration of the ICW charter would be voted down or - if Russia had a lick of sense -it would be withdrawn from consideration due to a `clerical error' or the like.

It was late. Looking across the table of the restaurant, the saw Lily's eyes drooping. Even though her crème brulee was only half eaten, James asked, "You ready to head home?"

Nodding, she blinked drowsily. "Your pregnant wife needs her bed as your child is sapping all her energy."

With a smile, he stood to move to Lily's side. His father had always insisted that James act as a gentleman. "Being a gentleman is more than birth, James," Charlus had often lectured. "Your actions and even thoughts must be those of a gentleman, as well."

James' eye roll had been of gargantuan proportions. His father was old. His father was a dinosaur. His father had been born in the 19^th century for heaven's sake!

Only after Charlus had died, did James realise what the old man had meant. Every day since, James had done his utmost to be a gentleman. Whether it was helping his wife from her seat or generosity with his tenants, James Potter strove to be the gentleman for which his father had wished.

"You Ok to Apparate, Love?" he teased.

With an affectionate smirk, Lily stuck out her tongue at him. "Prat."

A muted staccato crack-crack announced their departure.

"I'm all done in, Love…" Lily began before stopping abruptly. Turning, James saw Remus, Alex, Sirius, Hestia, Harry and Hermione waiting for them. Their collective expression banished any cheery welcome.

"Have a seat, Prongs," Remus solemnly began. "We've a lot to discuss."

.oOo.

"What happened?" James asked.

Harry frowned in concern as his Dad helped his Mum into a chair. Leaning over, he asked her, "Are you alright?"

She nodded, alleviating his fears. "Just tired. Been a long day."

Harry turned back to his Dad, while Remus began. Handing over the letters that Padfoot, Harry and Hermione had read earlier in the day, Remus told Prongs, "I received these this morning." Moony paused, collecting his thoughts. It'd been an emotional afternoon for all of them.

"Months ago, I arranged for a half dozen caretakers to check on the Potter properties, farms and the mine while they were idle. These three caretakers," he gestured to the letters James was reading, "All report that three farms were burnt to the ground - including the crops."

Harry's frown deepened. After Alex had healed his burned hand, Remus had told him about what happened. Speaking up, he told his Dad, "I tasked Neville to lay out a plan to restore the fields, including any necessary steps should the land be salted."

Harry's heart warmed at James' quiet, "Well done, son."

Turning back to Remus, James asked, "Who?"

The Lycanthrope sighed. "We all talked it over today. Based on what we're told," he gestured to the letters that were now in Lily's hands, "I'm disinclined to believe this is Voldemort's work."

"Which leaves…," James muttered in an annoyed tone.

"Dormred ap Morag as the most likely suspect." Harry finished for his Dad. He was more than a bit disgusted with that section of the family history. Intellectually, he knew that he Potters past and present weren't saints. The long-term conflict with the descendants of the original Dormred was distasteful.

As if on cue, the doors from the library to the veranda opened. Neville and Susan come out, joining the rest of the party.

When he sat, the sandy haired teen nodded to his godfather. In response to James' unasked question, Neville replied, "The answer is that it depends."

The door opened again, William joining the group.

Harry frowned at his friend's solution. He wasn't the only person displeased. Undeterred by the consensus of frowns, Neville ploughed on. "If the fires were started with non-magical means, the restoration of the field and land is straightforward.

"However, if the fires were magical in origin then it becomes more complicated. Fiendfyre of the Salted Field curse makes it much harder." Turning to Harry, Neville declared, "I'll have to be part of the team."

"If he goes, I go," Susan asserted.

Harry nodded absently while Padfoot was silent. Harry turned to his Dad, surprised to see calm acceptance on Prongs' face.

Hazel met green. An understanding was reached. James' face was hard as he came to terms with what Harry had organized and obviously intended to lead. Silently, the two Potters regarded one another.

Harry felt Hermione's hand slide into his. No matter the situation, she always boosted his flagging spirits, bolstered his failing courage or strengthened his weakening resolve. In a low tone, he told his Dad, "You and Mum need to stay here. There's the ICW and another reason, but you don't have the bandwidth to deal with this right now."

Nodding around the table, Harry said, "Hermione, Sirius, Remus, Alex…,' half grinning, he added, "I guess Neville, Susan and I are going home to deal with this…" his mind blanked as he searched for the right words.

"Deal with this problem," James finished for his son.

There was another long, evaluative silence. Tightening his grip on Hermione's hand, Harry declared, "I'll capture him if I can. I won't endanger the team, though. If it comes to that, he goes down, hard."

Harry took deep breath, letting it out slowly. He and Hermione had talked long after Remus had returned from Barcelona. In the end it boiled down to Hermione's statement, "It's war."

James nodded. The stern expression didn't slacken one bit. "You know what you may have to do?"

Grimly, Harry nodded. "Exterminate the infestation," Sirius had sardonically concluded earlier in the day. The man they'd met and any others who held by his beliefs may need to die in order to end this continual strife, murder and mayhem.

Glancing at the stone faced Hermione, Harry remembered her reasoning. "It's for our children. Do we want this man's children or grandchildren attacking ours?"

No. He didn't want that. Meeting his father's gaze, he saw that while resolute, James wasn't pleased that this situation had been thrust upon them by their distant arsehole ancestor.

Through a crack in his armour, Harry's compassion leaked through. "I feel as though we should be trying to resolve the situation peacefully." Shaking his head, he amended, "But based on this man and his ancestors' behaviour, there will be no peaceable settlement."

"Sounds familiar," Sirius commented.

"Yes. Lord Voldemort," William agreed in harsh tones.

Harry looked to his friend. William had lost more than anyone at the table due to the predations of that dark wizard. Ignoring the digression, Harry refocused on his Dad.

"What's the plan?" James asked.

This was James' method of giving permission for the effort to go forward. Even though James would never claim to be the leader of the Marauders, he always had been. It would never do for him to say, "Very well, I authorize this course of action," or the like. Harry knew this, so he breathed a sigh of relief at his Dad's tacit permission.

Turning to Hermione, he ceded the floor to her. "Remus and I debated different courses of action. We could wait Dormred out until after we've dealt with Voldemort. We could hire mercenaries to hunt him down. We could let the Death Eaters know about him, as I'm sure he isn't a pureblood.

"There are problems with each of these alternatives, though," she lectured. Harry half-smiled as she unconsciously adopted her `homework is important' tone. "I don't think that any of us would feel it an acceptable course of action to sit back, allowing this man and his followers continue their predations. We're talking about peoples' lives and histories. Some families have farmed these lands for centuries."

Harry nodded in agreement. Hermione paused, chewing her lip as the others considered her words. After a moment, James nodded. "I agree."

"The mercenaries are a different problem," Hermione continued, picking up the thread. "It's summed up in a word: loyalty. It's true that most of these firms advertise their loyalty as to their employer, but many of these wizards and witches would embrace the opportunity to support Voldemort."

Harry nodded in agreement. When Sirius had suggested mercenaries, The Boy-Who-Lived hadn't been too excited about the idea. He had been grateful that Hermione had systematically dismantled the idea of hiring mercenaries.

Hermione sighed. "While it's likely that Dormred ap Morag and his family are not purebloods, it isn't for certain that they aren't Death Eaters. Not all the followers of the Dark Lord are purebloods. It could backfire spectacularly on us should we attempt to co-opt Voldemort's forces to do our work for us.

"This is why we," she gestured about the table, "Believe that the only morally and tactically sound course of action is to insert a special action team into Britain comprised of family members."

Remus picked up the thread, "Sirius has already begun carving ward stones." Padfoot nodded soberly in response. "We'll rent a place or use a wizard tent. With Sirius' ward plan, our base camp will be Unplottable and under the Fidelius, among other ward schema. We'll set up in the Cambrian Mountains. Our assumption is that the descendants of the original Dormred ap Morag are still in northern Wales. That much family hatred will tie them to that area."

Harry nodded in agreement. Remus had argued that the family would derive their collective identity from their sense of being wronged. Those of the family who chose to keep the vendetta alive would stay either in or near Gwynedd.

"We'll need autos or motorbikes to move about. Our objective will be to minimize the use of magic as much as possible. Sirius' wards will hide the use of magic, allowing Alex to use medical spells." Turning to the resolute Longbottom lord, the Lycan added, "And for Neville to make any preparations necessary."

Harry met his father's gaze. They stared at each other, unblinking until James nodded respectfully. No one had said it, but Harry had driven the discussion and decisions all day long. The expression on James' face led Harry to believe that Prongs was well aware of that fact.

He felt that it was his responsibility. Not because of what this maniac had done to Arthur and Molly Weasley when he was a child. Rather, it was his duty as a Potter. His father was unable to see to the situation, so it was Harry's responsibility to act in James' stead.

"Well done, son," James murmured again. Once more, Harry's heart warmed in his chest under his father's praise.

Into the gap of the conversation, Hermione finished the basics. "Sirius and Neville will focus on repairing the damage done to the farms while Remus, Harry and I search for the perpetrators."

Everyone fell silent. Harry regarded first his Dad, then his Mum. Both were quietly contemplative. Lily and James exchanged a glance before James exhaled noisily. Leaning back in his chair, the Potter patriarch nodded to his son.

For some reason, Harry felt a weight removed from his shoulders. It seemed that after being kept in the dark for years by Professor Dumbledore, it was oddly pleasing to have his parents and family not only confide in him, but also rely on him.

James acknowledgement of the soundness of the plan acted to dispel the group. Sirius helped Hestia to her feet. After muttering, "'Night all," they headed to their room. William ghosted down the steps to the beach while Neville and Susan returned to the library. When Harry looked around, Remus and Alex were gone.

The remaining foursome was quiet until the only noise was the surf and the wind. Far off, there was the sound of an asthmatic lorry engine labouring up a hill, but otherwise they were alone.

Without preamble, James declared, "There is a spy in the Ministry. This person gave away your last trip to retrieve Steven and Alice. I'll not expose you to that possibility again."

Harry nodded in understanding. While maintaining operational security would reduce the likelihood that Voldemort and his forces would be unaware of the insertion team's movements, it also meant that the team would have no backup should the operation go pear shaped.

They were quiet again. Unspoken was the second reason why James and Lily couldn't go on this operation. Harry felt that he needed to tell his parents but his courage couldn't overcome his fear. Lily took the decision away from him.

"What did you see? Why can't we go?"

Deflating, Harry slumped in his chair. Hermione's reassuring squeeze on his elbow helped him to face his task. Taking her slim hand in his, he told his parents. "This morning, I had another premonition." His gaze shifted from James to Lily. Harry's expression fell. "It was about Mum."

He related every detail he could recall. The smell of pine and sea. The familiar headstones from the family graveyard. At Rowan Hill. The scar on James' face and the severity of Sirius' injuries. Even Hermione's grief stricken posture. All of it.

By the end of his recounting, Harry was weeping. He was aware of when he'd begun to cry, but the threat of Lily's death was terrifying. When he was younger and believed her and James dead, it had been hard but at the same time it'd been easy. He'd never really known his parents, so he couldn't grieve James and Lily. He'd grieved for the idea of his parents.

Now, though, he knew and loved his parents as individuals - real people.

"You are assuming I die by a Death Eater's hand," Lily murmured. "It could be in childbirth. The Russians are not known for their kindness to those who cross them." At Harry's horrified expression and James' sharp look, she added, "Granted, by my staying home, I probably change everything. In your last vision, I was alive, correct?"

At Harry's nod, she admitted, "I was pregnant then, so I doubt it's childbirth. Only the Russian situation and this barmy bastard burning the farms have changed."

Thinking deeply, Lily sat back in her chair. Hermione offered, "By staying behind, you obviate that problem - for the most part. You just need to beware and take care regarding any `other situations'."

Lily nodded tiredly. "I'm done in." Standing, she first kissed Hermione then Harry. To James, she asked, "Coming?"

"In a bit. Don't wait for me."

After Lily disappeared in the house, James focused on the teens across from him. "Are you two alright with this?"

Shrugging, Harry replied, "Doesn't matter, does it?" In earlier years, the sense of futility and helplessness could be nearly overwhelming at times. While events had dictated his course, Harry didn't feel that powerlessness to the same degree.

James narrowed his eyes in annoyance. "That's not what I asked."

Glancing at Hermione, she gave him an encouraging motion. Harry knew what his Dad was asking. Are you Ok with hunting down a man and his family with the intention of killing them?

"It's unpleasant, but this chapter of the family's history needs to be closed. He's attacking the tenants. It's only luck that no one was home; otherwise these families would have died horrible deaths."

His Dad accepted that answer. After a moment, he nodded to the teens. "Have a good night."

When Harry and Hermione were alone, he relaxed into the chair. He hadn't been aware that he'd been so stiff and tense. Her slim hand rubbed his shoulder as she silently commiserated with him.

"Things are spinning out of control so quickly," he observed.

"They are."

A thought struck him. Standing, Harry held out his hand. His heart warmed as she smiled while reaching for him. A twist of his wand caused a soft three beat tune to play. Taking her in his arms, he whispered, "How long has it been since we've waltzed?"

"It feels like an eternity," she husked.

Hermione was his everything. Best friend, lover, companion, confidant, playmate, study partner, hero and partner; she was all these things and more. With silent appreciation, affection and love, he kissed her. It was a tender and loving kiss, his lips barely touching hers.

Holding her tight, Harry drove them about the veranda, the star filled skies standing in mute witness to their love.

A/N

1. I own nothing. Thanks to all who reviewed the first twenty chapters of Last Casualties. Story status, as always, can be found on my Author's page on fanfiction (dot) net. Mostly I update the status on Mondays. Once in a while. The chapter's a little later than usual as we just got back from a week at the beach. Sigh. Once again, the `computer' was a pen and spiral bound notebook.

2. Recommendation for this chapter is the Watcher at the Gates by apAidan. It's an excellent representation of what the Death Eaters really did. He portrays the initiation of a full-fledged Death Eater in the same manner as I've always imagined. Just like a `button man' in the Mafia or a gang-banger, the cost of admission to that club is very high.

3. Lux Tenebris, Diligere Super Odio: Light over Darkness, Love over Hatred

Chapter complete 5/26/12

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