Unofficial Portkey Archive

Chapter 25

"I now pronounce you husband and wife."

The newly minted husband smiled broadly as he bent to kiss his wife. Kissing her soundly, he barely heard the applause of the small number of witnesses. As her fingers tangled in his long hair, there was a burst of emotion that rose up with in him. Love. Acceptance. Affection. Desire. Friendship.

All these things Sirius Black had thought were beyond his reach. After being so damaged by his stay in Azkaban, after losing all that he held of value in his life, he thought that he'd merely finish out his string in this life as an emotional cripple. The blonde witch in his arms had given him hope, purpose and love. In her he found a way back to sanity, love and contentment.

Hestia's tongue gave his a last caress before she pulled away. Still in his arms, she smiled up to him, her expression that of suffused joy. He returned her smile, remembering their conversation from the day before when the team had returned from the disturbing conclusion of their hunt for Dormred ap Morag.

After the group had dispersed from James and Lily's suite, leaving behind the new parents along with Harry and Hermione, Hestia had pulled Sirius into their bedroom. Eagerly looking forward to the shag of his life, Padfoot was stunned when his blonde fiancée pulled him into an embrace as she sobbed her heart out on his shoulder.

All amorous thoughts banished, he held her until she calmed. As Hestia's sobbing slowed to weeping and then to snuffles. "You want to tell me?" he murmured.

Taking a deep, cleansing breath, Hestia began, "For the first bit after you left I was fine. I missed you, of course, but it was manageable." Shaking her head, she continued, "Then Auror Team Seven got hit hard."

She curled up into his arms again. Her head flat on his chest, she whispered, "That's when `the wonderings' started. At first, I wondered what you were doing. `Is he sleeping? Is he eating?' You know, innocuous stuff like that. Then the wonderings became, `Is he hurt?' followed shortly by `Is he dying?' That's when I began to regret something."

Her tearstained face did nothing to detract from her incredible beauty. Over the past year, he'd come to know this witch intimately. Her beauty ran far deeper than her features. Sure, she was nearly as messed up as he was, but he loved her and she loved him. Her blue eyes seemed to study him for a moment before announcing, "I don't want either of us to die before you're my husband and I'm your wife. Let's get married. Today."

It turned out to be the next day, but Sirius was in full agreement. He'd missed Hestia more than he thought he could miss another person for the months they were back in Britain. The ache that he'd felt when he thought James and Lily dead was nothing compared to missing Hestia.

The applause from the gathered friends and family brought him back to the present.

"I now present to you Lord Sirius and Lady Hestia Black, the Earl and Countess of Blackmoor."

.oOo.

Harry lay back in their bed, his arm behind his head. Breathing deep of the sea air, he felt a bit nostalgic for the peaty, earthy air in Wales. They'd left their camp in place with the wards intact for when they returned. For they would return. Dormred ap Morag was merely the opening act in the struggle for the greater Potter family to free themselves from the shackles of pain and tyranny that'd been welded that Halloween night long ago.

At his side, Hermione breathed the slow, shallow cadence of those deeply asleep. Rolling his head to the side, he watched her. Sirius and Hestia's wedding had teased him about something that he didn't like to consider. The future. Mostly, he didn't think about what would happen `after'. After his confrontation with Voldemort.

He knew that he could beat the man. Going toe to toe with the wizard in the graveyard outside Little Hangleton had shown Harry that he had the power and ability to hold his own for a bit. He and Hermione had been working on a counter to Voldemort's end game designer curse that replicated the Draught of the Living Dead. Neither was sure that their idea was tactically sound, but it made sense. There was work to be done on that front.

Harry smiled when Hermione snuffled in her sleep, smacking her lips as she muttered, "The mice…the mice."

The smile faded. Considering the future in a concrete sense was a scary proposition for Harry. True, he felt that he could win, but a very large knot of fear in his belly always formed because he also knew that it was a very strong possibility that Voldemort would tire of toying with The Boy-Who-Lived and kill him. Shoving the Dark Lord situation to the side, Harry thought about his future. His future with Hermione. A wave of shocked surprise followed by remorse swept over him at his realization. Slipping from the bed, he grabbed some clothes on the way to the shower. He needed to find his Dad.

.oOo.

Settling into the seat on the Dover-Calais ferry, Bill relaxed for the first time in thirty six hours. He and Charlie had been constantly on the move since they left their hidden base north of Leeds. Four trains, a bus, walking for five hours cross country to another train brought the brothers to the ferry. The hard earned trick to moving about a Voldemort controlled Britain was to do so with no use of magic. The Death Eaters had no idea how to track down wizards and witches when no magic was used as a beacon to home in on the person.

At Bill's side, his brother snored loudly. The tall, thin Weasley worked better on little sleep than his younger brother did. They both surmised that they'd been summoned to Spain for the same reason that Bill had been studying Buckingham Palace. "Whatever the hell that is," Charlie had snarked.

Neither brother had spoken about it, but Bill knew that Charlie worried about Percy as much as he did. To be honest, Percy was Bill's least favourite brother. The twins were amusing and he didn't really know Ron that well, but Percy had always irritated the shit out of Bill. The holier than thou attitude had been firmly implanted in the middle brother's arse as far back as Bill could remember. For some reason, his Mum coddled and encouraged the boy in the attitude instead of squashing it.

Shaking his head, he shoved off from the inevitable conclusion of this line of thought. It always ended with a vision of Molly sobbing her heart out over Percy's corpse. Even if his brother was an arse, he was still his brother.

Staring out the window of the ferry at the increasing chop of the channel, Bill wondered what Fleur was doing. Was she still alive?

Joining Moody's team had been a hectic, chaotic time. Bill had thought that he either knew, or knew of most wizards in Britain. Once again, he'd been proven wrong. He knew none of his teammates aside from Alastor. Except for her. He'd recognized her immediately from the newspaper accounts of the TriWizard Tournament. Never having met her, he was content to watch her from a distance. As the newcomer to Moody's group, Bill was feeling his way through the days to unravel the day-to-day routine, regulations both official and unofficial, and - most importantly - survive long enough to win back their country.

Even that first day, he'd felt an undeniable attraction to the scarred French witch. Emotion welled up from deep within him. Bill wasn't a very sentimental man, but Fleur had his heart in her hands. He belonged to her in the best possible way.

Looking down to his lap where his hands held nothing but emptiness, Bill croaked a whisper, "I love you Fleur." The ferry continued its trek across the small body of water that is the English Channel. Forty five minutes after it landed, Bill and Charlie strode into their father's office.

.oOo.

If neon signs were born somewhere, James was now convinced that they bred, were born and grew up in Hong Kong. As he walked with his son down Bonham Strand West, Prongs smiled to see Harry's head moved this way and that to see the exotic sights. The Crown Colony was so radically different from anything he'd ever seen that his repeated murmurs of, "Did you see that?" to his father threatened to send James round the twist.

"London's busy, but this takes it to a whole new level," James replied with a bit of snark as they pushed their way through the hordes that crowded the sidewalks. After ten minutes of walking through the immense crowds, James felt that he'd a fairly good idea of how a salmon felt swimming upstream to spawn. "Ah," he muttered when he found the familiar entrance.

Hustling up a broad stair, James motioned to his son, "C'mon. Through here."

Harry nodded, catching up to his dad. The stair led to a dark alley, noticeable in that it was the only dark alley that Harry had seen as they walked through Central Hong Kong.

"Wan Chai is on the other side of the Alley," James commented. Looking over his glasses at his son he added, "Even you don't want to go there by yourself." While Hong Kong was fairly well policed, no one forgot that the Triads were founded and headquartered in the crown colony.

Striding boldly into the dark alley, both Potter men felt the magical illusion pass over them like a waterfall. Shivering at the feeling of the foreign magic, Harry looked about.

More neon. The English words were replaced with Chinese ideographs announcing the name of this shop or that one. This time, though, every shop was magical. Looking about he saw stands selling potion ingredients, shops with magical appliances, bookshops, and at the end of the row, a large slightly tipsy structure that he'd recognize anywhere - Gringotts.

"Is it just me or is this shopping district…?" Harry asked.

"Eerily similar to Diagon Alley?" James finished. "I suppose so. Hong Kong is British after all."

Harry snorted. "Dad, this place is Chinese that's run by the British."

James shrugged as they jogged up the stairs to the bank.

Inside the bank, they followed the usual routine, ending up in the newly relocated Potter family vault. Heading to the large dresser that covered most of the wall, Harry asked his Dad, "Which drawer?"

He'd been a bit surprised that it'd taken Harry this long to make his request. James had been expecting this conversation for months. True, other issues had taken priority, but now that they had some breathing room and down time, James was glad to do this for his son. It was something he'd dreamt about when Harry was just a baby; something a Potter father did for his son.

James conjured a seat for himself as he smothered a smile. He had a feeling they'd be there for a while. "Third down on the left."

.oOo.

Amelia was reading through the latest report from Terry Sheehan, the Auror Commander of the underground forces in the south of England. While Alastor Moody was covering Northern England and all of Scotland, Terry was burdened with the more populous area. To his credit, he'd cultivated an extensive intelligence network and it was slowly building a descriptive account of Voldemort's government and routine.

For all their arrogance and wealth, the high level Death Eaters had no idea how to run a government. The idea of Lucius Malfoy working all day at a desk was laughable. Rudolphus Lestrange negotiating compromise between squabbling departments was unimaginable. True, there were most likely many like the late and unlamented Dolores Umbridge who had jumped at the opportunity to leverage their bureaucratic skills to gain power and wealth through the Dark Lord's new regime.

The redheaded Minister for Magic (acting) was investing in the overall nature of humanity to be basically decent people. Most weren't monsters. Hopefully, the list of collaborators was a short one. Therein lay her hope for a weakness that could be exploited; assassination of the Death Eater leadership followed by a revolutionary putsch that would overturn the Voldemort supporters.

The door opened to admit Albus Dumbledore. She blinked at his appearance. Gone was the long hair and beard. In its place were neatly trimmed chin whiskers with hair pulled into a ponytail that just reached his shoulders. The sport coat and trousers was an even bigger surprise.

"Good morning, Albus," she greeted for the lack of anything else coming to mind.

He smiled jovially, "And a very good morning to you, Amelia. May I sit?"

Breaking out of her surprise, she motioned to the chair opposite her, "Of course. Please, sit."

With a sigh, the centenarian settled in the comfortable chair. "I've heard from Minerva," he began without preamble. "Apparently, Lord Voldemort has decided that since he cannot penetrate Hogwarts' wards, then no one shall get close to the school." His eyes twinkled at her, "He must think that others have access to the school via hidden tunnels and whatnot."

Amelia gave him an amused curl of her lips. The old man in front of her was a study in change. Before the fall of Britain, he'd been the standard carrier, the one around whom the Light had rallied. With James' ascendancy in the international arena, Albus had politely taken on the role of the backroom politician, using his extensive contacts and social network to aid their cause. Amelia believed his efforts to be invaluable. The old maxim of, "It's not who you know, but what you know," was turned on its head. It seemed that Albus knew everyone and everyone knew Albus. Most importantly, they all seemed to be amenable to helping the old man. James had even grudgingly admitted that the old man had been helpful.

She watched the old man as he poured tea for himself from the service that had just appeared. Placing the report from Sheehan back in its folder, she waited.

"Mmmm, lemon," he murmured while surveying the biscuit collection. Munching a frosted confection, he sipped his tea. "There are now giants and other creatures in the forest," he continued.

"Other creatures?" Amelia asked. "The Forbidden Forest is full of magical creatures."

Nodding his clipped head, Albus added, "Yes, but now Minerva has seen a Chimera along with a clutch of Cold Drakes in addition to the Giants...."

"Oh dear," Amelia murmured. She wasn't a Creatures expert by any means, but all magicals knew that those creatures were not to be trifled with by the uninitiated.

"Yes. `Oh dear' indeed. I believe that our adversary is in the process of filling the area about the school with enough creatures that would overwhelm the defenders should the wards ever come down." He paused as his eyes became unfocused for a moment. "Or, he could be staging a non-human army in the north," he added softly. "That is a distinct possibility as well."

A contemplative expression washed over the old man. "What is kept out is also kept in, though. Anyone in the school is there for the duration."

Her eyebrow cocked, Amelia asked, "Save for Fawkes?"

Nodding, Albus amended, "True. Save for phoenix travel. In raising the wards to the level I needed to insure the integrity of the school, even I cannot enchant a portkey to the school." Again, the old man was quiet. "I do not like these developments. I am unsure as to Lord Voldemort's purpose and design here and that fact alone is unsettling."

"It could be a design to draw you out," Amelia observed.

"Yes. Placing a group of horrific creatures next to my beloved school should bring old Albus running. It doesn't really threaten anyone, but is sure to catch my attention." He winked at her with cynical amusement, "The thought did occur to me."

"So, you're going back to investigate?"

"Yes, hence the haircut and muggle clothing. I sincerely doubt that I would be unmolested should I stay in a magical Inn, therefore, I shall stay muggle. I'll be on the Dover ferry first thing in the morning. You may reach me via the usual means."

The Minister nodded at the comment before asking, "Why're you not traveling with Fawkes?"

Sipping his tea, Dumbledore replied, "Alas, he has just experienced a Burning Day and will be too immature to travel via fire for some weeks now. It's been a few years since his last Burning Day; I've expected this for some time now."

Frowning, Amelia countered, "I'd feel much better if you had Fawkes available to you. Can't you put this off until he's ready?"

He chuckled while levelling the now blushing minister with an amused expression. "I'm fairly experienced, Amelia. I believe I can take care of myself."

"Fine, but you mustn't risk yourself too much, Albus. You, Harry and to a lesser extent, James and Lily are symbols to our people. Symbols of hope and goodness. Don't die on a reconnaissance mission."

Finishing his tea, Albus jauntily saluted, "I shall do my best, Minister."

.oOo.

Lily sat on the patio nursing Robbie while Bill and Bobbie Smith sat nearby enjoying the sun. It was one of the last warm days of the year before the Mediterranean coast turned cold and windy for the duration of the winter. Staring off to the horizon, Lily tried to shake off her doldrums.

"What is it, dear?"

Lily attempted to smile at Bobbie's question but it died on her lips. Sighing, she looked back out to sea. "I know intellectually that this," she gestured with her free hand to the suckling babe under the blanket, "Is my main priority in life. No other job is more important than this. However," Lily sighed again as she stroked Robbie's back through the blanket.

"You wish you had a more active role," Bobbie finished for her young friend when Lily didn't finish her statement.

Nodding, Lily absently continued to stroke her son's head before pulling him to her shoulder. A deft movement had her blouse back in place and Robbie on the blanket to be burped. "People are being hurt and killed back home, yet I'm here burping my baby." Shaking her head, she countered herself, "Being a mother is a vitally important role, but at the same time…."

Somewhat ashamed of her conflicting desires, Lily looked to the older couple for help. Bill regarded the younger woman for a moment before sighing. "It was much easier for our generation. The men went off to war while the women kept the home fires burning, as it were."

Bobbie poked her husband in the side, "And who was the Evacuation Coordinator for my block?"

He gave a small smile while looking down to his tea, "You were dearest."

"And who was a volunteer at St Joseph's on the general ward?"

His smile disappeared. "You were," he whispered.

The banter soothed Lily. "I need to find my role here, you're telling me."

Bobbie nodded as she sipped her tea. "I thought that helping James was a fulfilling role for you. What changed?"

Lily snorted before taking a long draught of her omnipresent glass of water, "I'm feeling a bit bloodthirsty. I want to mix it up with some Death Eaters."

The older couple was silent causing Lily to wonder if she'd gone too far. It was a bit shocking, the idea that she wanted to harm the Death Eaters. Killing them had only slightly bothered her. James had been affected much more than she'd been the first time they'd killed. Looking up, she saw the Smith's watching her expectantly.

"Well?" Bobbie prodded.

"Well, what?"

"Well, what's your decision?"

Nonplussed, Lily stared. "What my very direct wife is asking," Bill interjected, "is that you've a decision to make. Are you going to go off to fight in the war, or are you going to stay here to fill a different role where you contribute as best you can in indirect ways?"

"Are you going to fight back using your brain or your wand?" Bobbie scolded.

Taken aback by the harsh rebuke, Lily gaped for a moment. "I would rather do both."

Bobbie snorted. The sometimes crotchety woman asked, "And since when did your preferences and desires count? What ought you do, young lady?"

Lily's own fuse began to burn short. "That is what I'm trying to decide."

"Really?" Bobbie drily observed. "It sounds to me like you're trying to talk yourself into a course of action that you want to follow as opposed to your duty."

Visibly biting her lip, Lily stared for a long moment. Finally, she stood while murmuring, "Excuse me. I must put Robert down for a nap."

Swallowing her ire, Lily moved to the house. Over her shoulder, she heard Bill chastise his wife. "Really, dear. Was it necessary to be so rude while making your point?"

It wouldn't be until many hours later - after her temper had cooled - that Lily would realize that Bill hadn't told Bobbie that she'd been wrong. In fact, he had implicitly told his wife that she'd been correct in her assessment of Lily's actions. The redheaded mother of two boys didn't like that fact at all

.oOo.

"…and that's where we stand. The Security Council is informally behind us. Once the General Assembly can be swayed to support the Ministry in Exile, the Council will then be able to publicly support us," James paused to sip his tea.

"You're meeting with the Russian chap this afternoon?" Amelia asked as she peered at the younger man through her monocle.

James nodded. "Ivanov's note said that he wanted to chat."

"Take Sirius with you. Harry also."

James blinked in surprise. "You think I need backup?"

Amelia nodded. "I don't believe that Ivanov himself will do anything, but the goons that I'm sure he's hired will be waiting for you to be alone. You, Sirius and Harry are known to be very powerful wizards. They'll not engage you if you're together."

Now James frowned. "Alright. I'll get them before I go." Narrowing his eyes, James added, "Amelia, I've told enough half-truths in my life and lied to more people than I can count. Don't bullshit a bullshitter. What's going on? Why do you want them with me?"

Her reply irritated the young Duke of Shrewsbury. "Call it a test of sorts."

"I don't like tests. Never have," James' growl more reminiscent of Padfoot's animagus form than his own.

James was annoyed that Amelia wasn't even remotely cowed by his behaviour. Snarkily she replied, "And I remember asking your opinion when?"

Anger rising, he made to stand before she waved him back to his seat. "Sit down and calm down." A few deft wand movements by Amelia left them in a privacy sphere the like he'd never seen. "We need to have a frank discussion."

Calmer, he replied, "About…?"

"How we're going to get your son the experience and opportunity to kill Lord Voldemort."

.oOo.

Sirius led the way down the small street in downtown Zurich. The address for James' meeting with the Russian Ambassador to the ICW was at a coffee shop. That alone set off warning bells for both male Potters along with making Remus and Sirius twitch. That Ivanov wanted to meet away from his office could either be very good news or very bad news. Given the animosity displayed by the Magical Russian Empire toward the British Ministry in Exile, Sirius was more inclined to believe that Bad News was coming.

Hermione was spending the day with her grandparents. With Sirius, Remus and Harry along, The Smartest Witch of the Age had snarked, "I think His Grace is fully protected. You all don't need little old me getting in the way."

Harry had sniggered when Sirius' fake look of confusion had been met with Hermione batting him on the nose with a conjured newspaper while scolding, "Bad Padfoot."

Said `Bad Padfoot' let the memory slip away. Focusing on his surroundings, he kept an eye on the middle aged woman pushing a pram up the walk. The coffee shop was on the next block, so he was on high alert. Is she too old to have a baby? Maybe a grandchild…

I don't need this shit. I should be on my honeymoon shagging the hell out of my wife.

Sirius and Hestia had decided to postpone their honeymoon until after the war. She'd summed up their collective feeling when she'd told Lily, "We can't really enjoy the time to ourselves, devoted to ourselves while the war is ongoing.

Padfoot slowed, allowing the woman to cross at the intersection. Prongs and Pronglet were five metres behind him and Moony another five behind the father and son. I don't like this…I don't like this… he kept whispering to himself. It was all wrong. The situation, the meeting, the location, the day…everything was jarring. There was no method, no order, nothing. The entire meeting screamed `Trap'. His hand in his pocket, Sirius fondled the handle of his wand in anticipation of drawing it quickly.

Across the street from the coffee shop, two extremely fit men were talking. The beginning of the trap. Sirius immediately noticed that even though they were talking to each other, both men were earnestly watching the approaching group while flicking back to the coffee shop.

There's two, Sirius thought to himself.

On a bench outside the shop, another man of the same build held a book, giving the impression of reading. Unfortunately for his disguise, he wasn't turning the pages.

There's number three. I really don't like this.

.oOo.

"Is that him?" Harry asked.

"Yeah," James muttered as he looked around the empty coffee shop. Ivanov was sitting at a table in the back, two more bodyguards a discreet distance away. He nodded to James in greeting, but the expressionless visage didn't change. Nodding in return, James muttered to his son, "Go to Sirius and Remus. Be ready for anything."

James felt his son move to stand with his godfather and adopted Uncle. All three men had hard expressions, watching the situation with unblinking eyes. Remus half turned so as to watch the door and street in front of the shop.

Pulling the chair out across from the Russian ambassador, James sat. Pulling his gloves off with deliberate jerks, he nodded again, "Sergei."

"James," the Russian greeted. "Tea?"

"Please. Two sugars." The niceties would be observed.

The older man poured the tea into a traditional Russian teacup, adding the sugars as he poured. Leaving the spoon in the cup, he handed it to James. "To business."

"Yes," James replied mildly after sipping at the surprisingly good tea. It was strong with an earth aroma that was very pleasant. "What business do we have to discuss?"

"You do know that you are supporting a lost cause," the Russian declared in an offhand undertone.

James shrugged, not rising to the bait even though the anger flared in his heart. His secret fear that he'd never tell was that they were in a hopeless struggle with an undefeatable foe.

Shaking his head as if dealing with a wayward child, Ivanov continued as he poured his own tea with three sugars, "The Dark Lord will fully control Great Britain shortly. You have no chance of retaking the land of your birth. He has agents everywhere who see everything. As a wizard, he is unstoppable. You are doomed to fail." He focused on James with a neutral bordering on friendly expression, "You must see this."

With an rude expression, James didn't reply, just sipped his tea.

"How many do you have? Fifty? Sixty fighters? Against his army?" The thin Russian barked a laugh. "Insanity."

James was drawing all his self-control to prevent himself from transforming to Prongs and goring the man to death. The long building tension over Harry's fate, the seeming hopelessness of his efforts abroad and at home peaked and distilled in that moment driving James back twenty years to a time when he was arrogant, brash and unpleasant. Insolently yawning, he asked, "I'm sorry, is there a point here?" In that manner, James casually insulted the very dangerous and violent man who sat across from him. Provocation of this kind with this man, pushed the discussion to a plane neither foresaw or desired.

Displeased, Invanov glared at James. "For a man with such a young pretty wife and a newborn son, you have an extreme lack of subtlety and consideration. I would think that you'd show a little respect." In later days, James would reflect and be surprised that the Russian played his biggest card so soon. The subtle threat against James' family wasn't so subtle at all.

A frisson of fear rippled down James' spine lighting the fire of his rage. Behind him, he heard both Sirius and Remus growl. Holding up his hand to his family, he indicated that they should stay in place. The person he was most concerned for was Harry. In an instant, he could have Sergei Ivanov gutted and dressed. Harry was very protective of his family. Unfortunately, slaughtering the Russian Ambassador in such a manner would probably be detrimental to international relations.

In a playfully questioning tone, James asked, "Sergei, did you just threaten my family?" Without waiting for a reply, he reached across the table to pick up the teapot.

Topping off his tea, he told the Russian, "Because if you did, I do believe that you'll be dead within the next thirty seconds along with the five men you brought with you." His eyes like chips of ice, he glared at the Russian, "You didn't threaten my family, did you Sergei?"

The other man didn't back down a whit. Genially spreading his hands in a `what do you do' type of motion, Ivanov replied, "Take it how you will. I am Russian. Do to me what you will," he leaned over the table in a swift movement that made James reflexively reach for his wand, "but know that even if you kill me, it changes nothing."

Chuckling harshly so that it sounded like cracking ice, James shook his head. "Sergei, I will do nothing to you so long as we confine our battles to the political realm." All false joviality fell away from his face, leaving the face of a killer. Shedding the pretence of civility in the conversation, James declared with an intensity and focus that was chilling. "Remember that I have faced Lord Voldemort and survived five times. You are a bug that I will squash should you cross the line." Unblinking, he surveyed the Russian for a long moment. "I will kill you, burn your corpse and urinate on the smoking charred remains should you even seriously consider harming my family. Are we clear?"

Sergei Ivanov was a very cultured man but at his heart he only respected strength. Strength of arms and strength of will. James knew that he'd have to intimidate and bully the man. The look on the Russian's face told James that he'd won. The glare from Ivanov wavered for a long moment before he looked away. Unmoving, the head of the Potter family waited. There was a purpose to this meeting, he just needed to know if this purpose extended beyond threats.

Stirring his tea, Ivanov resumed his offhand tone, "I am merely trying to make you see reason, James. I could offer you…."

Snarling, James interrupted, "You can offer me nothing." Glad they weren't in the political boardrooms where he had to be polite, Prongs charged. "You are an errand boy, no more and no less. I suggest you take your fear riddled, sweat stained self back to where you came from before your bowels loose themselves and you embarrass yourself further."

Standing so quick that his chair fell over, he finished in a polished, upper class drawl that reminded the Russian that James was the Duke of Shrewsbury, "Thank you so very much for the tea and conversation." Scooping his gloves from the table, he turned on his heel, nodding to the rest of his escort. He had to get the hell out of there before he killed a lot of Russians.

Following Sirius out into the cold afternoon, he tugged on his gloves as he watched the Russian bodyguards. They didn't make a threatening motion, so the Potter contingent made none either. After clearing what he thought of as `the danger zone', James led his brothers and son into an alley. "Back to the house. I need to see Lily and Robbie."

.oOo.

"Alex?"

The blonde healer looked up from her periodical. She'd been absorbed in an essay discussing a new treatment for Magical Core Decay in the elderly. Smiling up to the young prince, she moved her reading glasses to the top of her head as she replied, "Good afternoon, Billy. What can I help you with?"

Visibly nervous, the young man sat opposite Alex as she placed the magazine on the low table between them. "I've been doing some research. Comparing the ICW and the United Nations to see where my point of reference needs to be amended."

She nodded. The young man wanted so badly to be useful. He keenly felt his inability to directly intervene in retaking their country. A country toward which his parents and grandparents had instilled a strong sense of duty. `What did you find?"

He exhaled as his eyes flicked to hers while a nervous smile ticked over his face. "Well, it's rather unpleasant."

She shrugged. It was evident that he was leery of speaking plainly, so she decided to help him along. "Magical Britain is incredibly bigoted and flawed. You'll not offend me."

Billy nodded, obviously relieved. "I've had two things that I've been working on for James. He asked me to look at the ICW roles and responsibilities, hoping that my different perspective may twig an idea that we can exploit. The other is to brainstorm ideas for allies to help us."

Intrigued where he was going, Alex nodded encouragingly while pouring tea for them both. "What did you find?"

"Thank you," he muttered as he took the tea from her. After the obligatory sip, he replied, "Well, it seems that I've an idea where there's overlap." Her silent attention spurred him to blurt, "Werewolves."

Not expecting that answer, she blinked. "Ah…well, I'm not really following."

Excited, he leaned forward, his forearms on his thighs, "Lycanthropes are a segment of magical Britain that are the definition of downtrodden. The government systematically denies them basic rights, treats the afflicted as beasts and worse. The bigotry and fear of the afflicted is so intense that Remus tells me that he's been beaten on more than one occasion. There have been so many reported -and unprosecuted - murders of lycanthropes in the past ten years to make me physically ill."

Breathing deeply to regain his equilibrium, Billy finally continued, "Voldemort is even worse. He takes advantage of the more feral members of the packs. These men and women would most likely have been Death Eaters regardless of their lycanthropy. Nevertheless, he uses these savages to browbeat, intimidate and bully normal, upstanding people to follow their Alpha wolf into unspeakable acts. According to Remus, most werewolves would prefer to be left alone to live in their pack community. They want to live, love and raise a family if they're able. Lycanthropy didn't make them evil."

Stunned, Alex sat back in her chair. Tea cold and ignored, she processed what the eager young man was offering. "How many werewolves are there in Britain?" she murmured.

"Ah," Billy responded enthusiastically. Pulling a folded piece of paper from his left hip pocket, he gave it to her, pointing to a row of numbers.

"Dear Lord," Alex murmured. Reading from the sheet, she said, "Ministry registration numbers show that there were nearly three hundred werewolves of all ages in Britain last July." Completely flabbergasted, she sat and stared. "That doesn't even count the spouses, children, siblings…." She shuddered. Fenrir Greyback and his ilk had been very busy over the past thirty years.

"At least three hundred wizards and witches who could help us," Billy breathed, barely able to contain his excitement. "But we must convince them that they should help us."

Shaking her head, she returned the paper to him. "Setting that incredibly monumental task to the side, what does this have to do with the ICW?"

"Glad you asked," Billy replied. Reaching to his other hip pocket, he withdrew another folded piece of paper.

Amused, she barked a laugh, "Did you script this conversation?"

Blushing, he replied, "A little." Handing her the other sheaf, he indicated, "Read number one."

Dropping her reading glasses back on her nose, Alex read aloud, "Article One. All human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights. They are endowed with reason and conscience and should act towards one another in a spirit of brotherhood."

"Number three."

"Article Three. Everyone has the right to life, liberty and security of person." Alex felt the stirring of what William was trying to get across, but he pressed on with his point.

"Numbers five and seven," William urged.

"Article Five. No one shall be subjected to torture or to cruel, inhuman or degrading treatment or punishment." Scanning down, she found seven and read, "All are equal before the law and are entitled without any discrimination to equal protection of the law. All are entitled to equal protection against any discrimination in violation of this Declaration and against any incitement to such discrimination." Setting the document on the table next to her long forgotten magazine, she rebutted, "But these poor people have had these rights since before they were born. Why should they believe us now when they've been so brutally oppressed for so long?"

With a dignity and presence that she'd never seen from the young man, William, Prince of Wales, declared, "Because this time, it will be the rightful heir to the throne guaranteeing them their due." She blinked at the implications of that statement. Before she could ask, William continued, "But we need to do more…."

.oOo.

"You look beautiful," Harry breathed. As part of the plan, he and Hermione were to go out to dinner this evening. Sirius had enchanted a portkey to Paris for them and they had reservations at one of the more upscale restaurants. Hermione had just joined him in the sitting room appearing as a vision of loveliness.

Closing the gap between them, Hermione ran her fingers along the lapel of his jacket, "You look very handsome."

Gulping, Harry replied, "We'd better go or we'll never get out of here."

Her laugh echoed in the room as she touched the old newspaper that whisked them to France. "Remember, Paris is always the right answer."

.oOo.

La Petite Auberge was a perfect restaurant as far as Hermione was concerned. Small but elegant. A magnificent menu but not overcrowded. The food was wonderful and the atmosphere better. There was only one problem; Harry.

He was nervous about something. Fidgeting, playing with his collar and cuffs, he unsnapped his cufflinks four times before the salad arrived then picked at his food. After the entrée, she'd had enough. Tucking her newly styled hair behind her ear, she reached across the table. In a soft voice, she asked, "What's wrong?"

His eyes fixed on hers for a second before he chuckled under his breath. "I can hide nothing from you, can I?"

Rubbing her thumb across his knuckles she shrugged, "I know you."

He took a deep breath before reaching into the breast pocket of his jacket. Withdrawing a bag, she recognized it. It was the same bag that held the mithril bracelet that she wore on her right arm. The same bracelet she'd worn the last year. Every day she'd worn the heirloom of Harry's house. She half smiled remembering his stumbling explanation of the meaning behind her acceptance of the gift. As it was entailed into the family, her acceptance was, in effect, a betrothal. Her mind stopped its digression, returning to the present. If he was holding a bag from the Potter vault, then…

"Harry, did you go to Hong Kong with your Dad?" she asked, her tone light but intense.

"Yes," he replied, nodding his head as he spoke.

Now she knew - or hoped she knew - what was in the bag.

Taking a deep breath, he began. At first he was a bit uncertain, but gained courage and certainty as he spoke. "Last June I told you that I wanted to take you out, wine and dine you while we were all dressed up before I proposed. Instead, we were in the mud on the shore of the Black Lake."

"And I was very sad," she murmured.

"Yes, you were very sad. Well," he paused to brace himself, "Tonight all we have all those things together." Upending the bag, he dropped an emerald ring into the palm of his hand.

Hermione's breath hitched and she was sure that her heart stopped for a second. Eyes wide, she was unable to form a coherent thought beyond one word.

"Yes," she breathed.

He smiled. "Can I ask you first?"

Dazed, she smiled, "If you insist."

"Will you marry me?"

"Yes."

He reached over the table to take her left hand. Sliding the emerald on her ring finger, he gave her hand a tender kiss before murmuring, "Thank you."

Hermione was a very sensible young woman. She usually ignored puffery, fashion and the like, but no recently engaged woman can help but admire the first view of her ring on her hand. Smiling broadly, Hermione held out her hand to admire the ring.

"It's beautiful," she whispered. Shifting her gaze to her broadly smiling fiancée, she asked, "Heirloom?"

He nodded. "My great grandmother wore it."

"Thank you," She whispered with a tear in her eye. "I know how much your family means to you."

Reaching out, he took her hand, "And you mean the world to me. Now and forever."

"I love you," she choked as emotion overcame her. For all intents and purposes, she'd lost her parents. She had Sirius and her grandparents, but now her true family was coming home. Harry had been the touchstone for her, the centre of her universe for the last five years. Loving him was as easy as coming home. He was her family. He was her love, he husband to be and the father of her unborn children. Harry Potter was her family.

"As I love you," he replied. Sliding out of his seat, he moved next to her. Kneeling, he leaned in to place a soft kiss on her mouth. "In this life in the next, a thousand times in a thousand places, I'll always love you."

She kissed him with more than a bit of passion. "Let's go home, my love."

.oOo.

"Did you notice something…odd?"

Bill and Charlie were on the back porch of their parents' home in Spain. Charlie had started smoking as a sixth year and most often Bill accompanied his brother in his pursuit of nicotine. Bill wasn't a smoker, but he did need to get away from his mum from time to time.

"Something is wrong with Dad," Charlie confirmed immediately. "Mum's over the top about Percy. Ron and Ginny are way too quiet but Fred and George are angry. Really, really brassed off about the whole situation."

Bill absently nodded his concurrence while Charlie took a deep drag on his fag. "Dad was… tired…distracted…," Bill groped for the right word, but couldn't find it.

"Preoccupied," Charlie offered as he exhaled his smoke.

"Yeah," Bill agreed with a grunt. Poking at the lizard that was running across the railing, he added, "But there's something very wrong that they're not saying."

"You think someone's sick?" Charlie asked in an undertone.

Bill pursed his lips as he considered. Both men had been old enough to remember their great uncle Bilius' terminal illness. He'd been their dad's favourite uncle and Arthur had been very distressed by his illness and subsequent death. Shrugging, Bill replied, "Dunno. Dad's kind of like he was when Uncle Bilius was sick but there's something else. Like he's done something wrong."

They sat there in silence as Charlie finished his fag. "Mum's worried," the dragon handler offered as he Vanished his cigarette butt. "I think it's Percy, but she's also worried about Dad."

Shaking his head, Bill changed the topic. "What do you think about this new team?"

Charlie grinned. Bill had always known that Charlie had an edge, a side to him that had no problem with violence. The younger man's grin gave truth to that idea. "All we've been doing is rearguard action. I'm ready to start punching the bastards right in the face. Personally, I'm looking forward to it."

The dead and dying that he'd seen over the last year flashed across Bill's mind. Nodding, he agreed. Had there been a mirror in front of him, he'd have recognized his own expression as matching Charlie's.

"Do you think we'll go back soon?" Bill asked wistfully.

The predatory expression on Charlie's face faded to one of sad understanding. "She's alright, Bill. She's strong."

Tears welled in the tall redhead's eyes. Nodding he hoped his little brother was right.

.oOo.

Lily stood on the patio, looking out to sea. The shadows from the house fell over her, but the sea was still twinkling with late afternoon sunlight. Sighing to herself, she felt that her standing in shadows while looking out into the light was apropos. It was times like this when she felt so confused and lost that made Lily want to run mad while screaming her head off like a fool.

A piping elfin voice sounded from the master bedroom singing in a tongue that Lily didn't recognize, but the tone was that of a lullaby. Winky must be singing to Robbie, she mused to herself. The elf had been a godsend as an assistant, nursemaid and lady's maid. I'll have to do something for both her and Rauri. She came to us based on his recommendation after all.

Despite her attempts at redirecting her thoughts with consideration of her family's servants, her mind stubbornly returned to the thread which had been weaving in and out of her mind all day. Down on the beach, she saw Hermione's grandparent's strolling along. Bill and Bobbie were welcome semi-permanent guests. At the same time, they - Bobbie really - had an amazing capability to be irritatingly prescient about character flaws.

Bobbie had been right on target the other day. Lily had to admit as such no matter how distasteful the experience. "I hate being wrong," she breathed.

The chuckle behind her, startled the auburn haired woman. Turning, she saw her husband walking up to her. "Yes, you do," he agreed.

Being the mature half of their marriage, she stuck her tongue out at him.

He laughed as he gently wrapped his arm about her waist. Taking comfort in his embrace, she leaned back on her beloved. "I love you, James."

After kissing the crown of her head, he replied, "Love you, too." They sat there for a long moment before he prodded her, "What's wrong?"

"I hate being wrong. That's the problem," she grumbled. When he waited in silence, she curled into his embrace. "Bobbie told me off the other day. She said that my duty is here with Robbie and you as a mother and wife supporting the diplomatic front, not on the front lines fighting Death Eaters."

She could feel her husband tense. He wasn't upset; far from it. Prongs was stifling laughter. "I know. I'm an idiot. Go ahead and laugh," she groused.

He kissed her again. "I'd never do that, my love."

Smirking even though he couldn't see it, she countered, "Because you know I'd try a Castration hex on you."

"Yup."

They were quiet for a bit as the sun sank past the horizon. The sky over the sea was now dark, but based on the glow over her shoulder, Lily knew that the sky behind her was still bright. Maybe that was the point.

In that moment, Lily Potter accepted her life's dream, but strangely enough, she didn't know that it was her dream. For many years, she thought that being a Charms Mistress or a Potion Mistress was her ambition. Thought she'd never admit it, Lily wanted to be famous, to change how magic was viewed. To be a giant amongst the pillars of magic was her daydream. Now, though, all that seemed very small, petty and…not very important. Now she wanted something very different.

She wanted to love and be loved. She wanted this funny, warm, courageous, loving, flawed man to be at her side every morning for the rest of her life. She wanted Harry to bring his and Hermione's children to her. She wanted Robbie to grow strong and tall like his brother; to find purpose and love in his life. In order to do that, she had to be the best mother and wife she could. Others had to pick up the wand for now.

Overcome by emotion, she had to take a deep breath to get her bearings. Like a living fire, love filled her body. Love for her husband. Love for her children. Love for her friends - family really. While she couldn't put voice to the tumultuous feelings, she could express them in a more basic way. It was a way that said everything while explaining nothing for nothing needed explaining.

Turning in his embrace, Lily wrapped her arms about James' neck. His face had an expression of confused happiness. Before he could ask the question that was growing in his mouth, she pre-empted him.

"I love you with all my heart."

His eyes flashed in surprised delight. With a gentleness that always made her swoon, he bent his head to kiss her. Pressing but gentle, passionate but modest, insistent but respectful, he claimed her while surrendering himself.

Pulling him close, she gave herself over to him. Once again, Lily fell in love with James.

Darkness overcame the Spanish coastline, but even in the inky black the stars shone brightly.

.oOo.

Hermione held Harry's hand, smiling widely the entire time. He was holding her left hand and when he'd first reached for her, he'd had to twirl her new ring about so it didn't pinch his fingers. Harry'd proposed over six months before, but now it felt real. She was wearing his ring.

Impossibly, her smile widened.

She hustled up the stairs behind Padfoot and Prongs. The Minister had called them all together. James hadn't had any specifics, but the entire family believed that the Ministry in Exile was making its first moves against Voldemort and his illicit grip on their homeland.

Moony and Alex were bringing up the rear behind Neville and Susan. Rounding out the group was William. The Prince was wedged in the middle of the group. There had been a long argument where James had been adamant about William staying behind the impenetrable wards at La Retirada.

In a display of maturity, using the presence that his Grandmother projected, William had stood his ground. With a firm expression he'd drawn himself up to his tallest while stating in a clear voice, "Your Grace, I completely understand, but I am going. It's my country, too."

James had no answer, so William accompanied the group.

At the top of the stairwell, James and Sirius headed to the left, filing into a conference room. It seemed anticlimactic as the greater family took seats about the table and waited for someone to start the meeting. Hermione and Susan traded looks of resignation.

Finally, Amelia Bones, Hestia Black and Arthur Weasley hustled into the room followed by Bill and Charlie Weasley. Hermione was slightly surprised by the presence of the older Weasley sons, but focused on the Minister as she stood at the head of the table.

"It's time we retake our country. The first steps are taken today."

Everyone was silent, focused on the petite woman whose presence dominated the room. "Your little sojourn into Wales was a test as far as I was concerned. Not only did you deal with your family issue, but you proved that you can work as a team to get the job done."

She turned a gimlet eye to Harry and Hermione, "But there will be no freelancing on this mission. Everyone," she gazed about the room, making eye contact with them all before continuing, "Everyone will follow orders. Lives are at stake. If you can't do that, please leave now."

Impressed and a bit cowed, Hermione silently looked about the room to see similar expression for the rest of the group.

James spoke up, "Who's in command?"

"Who do you think?" Amelia asked.

Shrugging James held up a hand. Pushing down his first finger, he told the room, "It can't be me. I've got to stay here and do mind numbing important work." Pushing down another finger, he added, "It can't be Lily, `cause it's her baps feeding the kid." Waving away the other fingers, he told Amelia, "Harry was in command of the extraction mission for the Granger family."

Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione noticed Arthur Weasley wince, but ignored it as she focused on the front of the room. "And he was pretty much in command of the Dormred ap Morag mission," James added. It was unspoken that he felt that his son should be in command of the mission, whatever it was.

Amelia frowned. Turning to Harry, she asked, "This mission revolves about your destiny. May I have permission to give a rough outline of the issue?"

Hermione's jaw clenched. Reaching under the table, she found Harry's hand, squeezing it reassuringly. Just the mention of the prophecy caused her heart to clench. Her fiancé's wordless nod spurred Amelia on to explanation for the Weasleys.

"Tough luck, Harry," Charlie muttered as the Minister finished her explanation.

"Yeah," Bill added.

"That is why Harry cannot be in command of the mission," Amelia concluded.

Hermione frowned. "You're saying that because Harry has a such a special role, he can't be in command of the team. He's to be the specialist while the rest of us fill roles."

Amelia nodded. "You all will form the team that will insert into Britain. You shall use the pre-existing camp established in Wales for your headquarters. Your mission shall be to kill Lord Voldemort."

Sirius blinked. "Not much there, eh?"

Hermione ignored her adopted father as she rebutted the Minister's logic. "Then your reasoning why Harry can't be the team lead falls apart. The entire purpose of the team is to kill Voldemort. Every person on the team is there to support Harry in his destiny. By that measure, he should be in command." Hermione stopped there. She didn't want to insult anyone else in the room.

His face flushed, Neville said what most were thinking but no one wanted to say. "He's the only one I trust to get us out alive."

Nodding absently, Hermione looked about the room with relief. Moony and Padfoot were both nodding in agreement. Alex's expression screamed, `Why is this a question?'

The next set of faces explained the entire discussion. Charlie and Bill Weasley were exchanging evaluative looks. Charlie seemed to be doubtful of Harry being in command of the mission while Bill merely shrugged in acceptance.

"I'll do the best I can," Harry began. "You all know me," he looked about the room. "Some better than others, but to all of you, I pledge myself to you."

His quiet dignity won the day with the Weasley brothers. Charlie stared at The Boy-Who-Lived for a long moment before nodding decisively.

"That's that, then," Sirius announced. His entire expression dared Amelia to contradict him. The Minister ignored the newly married Earl as she cast a spell which created a holographic map of the British Isles.

Hermione had a minor epiphany. The entire discussion about Harry's fitness for command of the mission was staged. Every one of them needed to not only be told that the youngest member of the team was in command, but they needed to accept and choose him for their leader. Amelia's `doubt' about Harry being in command forced the group to choose. Leaning over to Susan, she asked, "Was your aunt a Slytherin by any chance?"

"Hufflepuff all the way," Susan grinned. The strawberry blonde's expression told Hermione that Susan had deduced her aunt's motives as well.

"Professor Dumbledore has confirmed for us what the Auror teams have suspected. Voldemort is using magical beasts and creatures as defences about tactically significant targets."

On the map of Britain, a series of red dots appeared. "Hogwarts has the most extensive infestation in the Forbidden Forest to include giants, at least one chimera and cold drakes which accompany the pre-existing Acromantula nest and the Centaurs." Hermione shivered. The combination of those types of creatures created a very difficult situation. All would coexist peaceably, but also form a nearly impenetrable defence in the forest.

Jabbing her finger at the points on the map, the petite redheaded witch rattled off, "Balmoral Castle may have a dragon, the rail station in Leeds has a sphinx, Birmingham steel works are infested with brownies, the docks in Liverpool have a nasty kelpie, Diagon Alley is patrolled by Dementors now and of course, Buckingham palace…," Amelia's voice tapered off as she gathered her thoughts.

Gesturing to Charlie, she blithely announced, "And now you all see why the youngest Mr Weasley is here."

"Got your work cut out for you," Sirius muttered.

"Amen," Charlie agreed before asking, "Ma'am, I assume there's a detailed listing that I can study?"

Amelia handed him a folder, "You can keep this. It's charmed so that only you can read it." As Charlie spread the file across the desk and began to study it, the Minister continued.

"The wards, as you can assume, are state of the art. This is why the middle Mr Weasley is here."

Bill asked, "Are the ward schemas known or will I have to crack them on site? It'll drive my supply list if the wards are unknown."

Amelia nodded at the pertinent question. "Based on intelligence, for some sites the wards are fairly static. However, for the sites this team will be assaulting, you'll have to assume a rotating schema.

Hermione saw Bill nod his understanding before hesitating. After a moment, he asked, "Do we have time to bring another person on the team?"

Amelia frowned again. "We already have nine people. Who do you want?"

In a neutral voice, Bill said, "I need my assistant from Moody's team. She's nearly as good as I am and for some of these targets," the tall redhead gestured to the map, "We'll need to be fast and good. I'll need her to do that."

The Minister pursed her lips before turning to Harry. "Team Leader, it's your call."

Without hesitation, giving Hermione the idea that Harry was following the discussion very closely indeed, he asked Bill, "Who is this person?"

"Fleur Delacour."

Everyone save Charlie blinked in surprise; Hermione pleasantly so. She and Fleur had got along fairly well during the tournament. While not as close a friend as Susan, she liked the French born Veela. Hermione turned her attention back to Harry to see him considering the situation.

"I'll need a vow of loyalty from her," he told the tall man across the table.

Bill frowned a bit, "Then I'll need to do the same." When Harry looked at him inquisitively, Hermione saw a hint of the Weasley temper flare in Bill's face. "If you don't trust her enough to take her on without a vow, then you'll need one from me as well. I vouch for her."

Hermione's stomach flip-flopped. Harry was in a tight spot. Either he declared that he didn't trust Fleur - and by extension he didn't trust Bill - or he was going to trust people whom he only knew casually with his life and the lives of those he loved.

Harry looked to his father, trading a look with him. He shifted to his godfather. Last was Remus. Something in Moony's expression helped Harry decide. "No vow. I'm sorry for having brought it up."

Bill nodded. In a moment of graciousness, he admitted, "You're in a tough spot. No worries here."

The room was quiet for a bit as they all assimilated the news. One by one, they looked to Amelia. When she had everyone's attention again, Amelia smiled wickedly. "Let's get down to brass tacks, shall we?"

A/N

1. I own nothing. Thanks to all who reviewed the first twenty-four chapters of Last Casualties. Story status, as always, can be found on my Author's page on fanfiction (dot) net. I update the status on Mondays. Most of the time.

2. The recommendation for this chapter is What Should Have Been by Zabyne. Interesting soul bond story. Check it out.

3. I had a few reviews for chapter 24 that asked about noticeably absent characters (Hagrid and Dobby among others). In Act I of LC, I intentionally slimmed down the cast of characters to the `family'. That was obliquely supported with Harry's continued mantra of "only the family matters" and Remus' observation during the third task about how the family had isolated themselves. It was an intentional action on my part as Act I was about the family healing, reuniting and forging new bonds of love and affection. Hagrid didn't bring anything new to that dynamic that Minerva and Albus didn't bring in the first place; a betrayer to the intention for Harry by James and Lily. Dobby…well, I did him in Partners and Happily Ever After? but he's kind of cliché at this point in HP FF. I really liked Rauri's character and the redemption of Winky is very attractive to me as a character. There's no room for Dobby and Hagrid in this story. Yet.

As you've seen in Act II, I've begun to expand the circle of main characters by adding Amelia Bones, Arthur Weasley, Bill and Charlie Weasley and you'll see more of Fleur Delacour soon. It's really hard to keep this many plot threads running to keep the characters relevant and three dimensional. True, there are lots of side characters (primarily in the ICW) but this many main characters is hard.

Also, in Act III, expect to see everyone's favourite greaseball to make a `stunning' re-introduction.

4. I've been to Hong Kong many times. It still amazes me each visit.

5. So, FF dot net is forcing me to accept anonymous reviews. Fine. Now the cowards are dropping annoying and flaming reviews under the `anonymity' provided by said unsigned review. Cowards. If you dislike my story, stop reading it. If you disagree with some aspect of a character, have the cojones to leave a signed review. It's not like I'm going to track you down and beat you with your review. Losers.

By the way, what's with people reading past the 200k word mark of the story then leaving a review that basically says the story is trash/garbage/steaming pile of crap…you get the drift. What the hell is that? Why spend all the time…whatever.

One last mini rant about reviews: I've received a rash of reviews lately that have left me scratching my head while muttering, "What?" It's amazing what some people can take away from my story(s) that I never wrote. I have to remember that the bias and beliefs these readers bring to the story influence their opinion, but at the same time how does anyone read any of my stories as anti-Ginny? (BTW, ch 7 of H&G explains the end of ch6) or the effect of religion in this story. Astounding some of the hateful, and ludicrous reviews. Whew. All done.

6. Last note…A few people have asked why I'm not posting on Portkey any longer. I've tried to repeatedly, but Chapter 18 never loads completely. I've reported it to the admins (with no reply), so I'm going to try to repost the entire story from scratch. I doubt it'll make a difference but I'll try.

Chapter complete 2/14/13

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