Part 1: The Resistance

Chapter 1

Rose

It came in a letter.

I still remember the parchment scroll, creamy white and high standard, in the clutches of a brown ministry owl. I still remember the scribble of lenient handwriting, long and scripted, in a simple paragraph on the page.

Rose. It had started off simply.

I am writing to inform you that I have found an arrangement that will suit your request for practical work experience. You will be joining the temporary Head of the Auror Department, Roman Littlepine, at a meeting that will take place in two weeks in room Au3 at 20:00. It is about an upcoming covert operation I believe you will find challenging.

Fyes Pluvimber
Head of the Aurors-In-Training
Auror Department
Department of Magical Law Enforcement
Ministry of Magic
London, England

The letter now sits on the desk, front and center, as if on a museum display. In my shared flat, the only audience other than me was my roommate, Celestia. That did not stop me from spreading the news to as many people as possible.

I had informed my dad first, who was once an Auror, now a happy co-manager of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes.

"Work experience?" Dad says, his hand resting atop his rounded belly. His waistline has been growing larger ever since he resigned from his Auror position. "You're only eight months into training, Rosie. You've got plenty of learning left to do! Blimey, you're worse than your mother!"

"Stop it Ron." Mum says, and gave him a gentle slap on the arm. "I think it's brilliant you are already securing your future career."

"It doesn't make her any less of a snob." Hugo butts in, and takes a large helping of mashed potatoes.

"I don't see you doing anything worthwhile." I shoot back.

"I'm set. The Chudley Cannons love me." He says calmly.

I roll my eyes.

"Be careful out in the field Rose." Mum says. "There's the Resistance-"

"Mum, field work is always dangerous."

"I know Rose, but the Resistance have sent many Aurors to St. Mungo's already-"

"I know mum-"

"-to die, Rose."

"I know." I take a bite of steak. "There is always a high risk in this career mum, you know it. Every criminal would wish an Auror to die."

Mum's face turns disapproving, as it usually does nowadays. "You are treating this like a holiday. Need I remind you of Uncle Harry?"

A heavy silence falls onto our dining room.

"I haven't forgotten about Uncle Harry." I finally say.

Mum isn't having it. "He was the Head of the Auror Department, Rose-"

I stab my fork into a green bean. "Well maybe mum, maybe he wasn't as good an Auror as you thought he was."

Mum's face turns stormier. Dad clears his throat. "Rosie, your mum is right." He says.

Uncle Harry didn't even complete his Auror training. He got the job because he defeated Voldemort. But I didn't say it out loud. I say, "Okay."

The rest of dinner continued in silence.

I never informed them of my training or career again.

.

.

I have two minutes to get to the meeting.

The Simulation Training today had gone over time. I don't even think about changing clothes or showering, and push my way through a few straggling AITs, and run to the lifts. I reach room Au3 in only a few minutes, and after taking a deep breath, I enter.

I am immediately greeted with a hard face that wears a permanent scowl.

The man, dressed in robes of all black with flyaway raven hair, sits at the head of the polished cherrywood table. He gives me an onceover. "You must be Weasley."

This must be Roman Littlepine.

He turns back to the paperwork spread out on the table in front of him. I was acknowledged and dismissed. Just like that. I stand in front of the doors stupidly, unused to being written off by anyone.

There are only two other men at the table, sitting across each other on either side of Littlepine. The one on the left had strawberry blond hair, a balding patch on his scalp, and a bushy beard that reminds me of Hagrid. The man across from him had dark hair paired with a pinched face.

I choose to sit beside the bushy bearded one. Something about his round face seemed friendly.

"Rose Weasley." He says when I sit. He reaches out a hand to shake mine. "Arabus Cantor."

"My pleasure." I reply graciously, and shake his hand.

His face contorts for an instant, and his grip on my hand tightens. He leans in.

"Just between me and you," he whispers, "I usually don't go for gingers, but you do seem like a night of fun-"

My face burns as I jerk my hand away. The heat of his hand still sears mine. "That's not what I-"

"Keep your voice down Weasley." Littlepine glares at me, his quill poised to write.

"Sorry, sir." I scoot away from Cantor, towards the edge of my seat. He stifles his giggles into his meaty fist.

The pinch-faced Auror watches us. "I've heard many things about you."

Littlepine looks up from his paperwork again. "Haven't we all?"

I don't say anything.

"What did you hear about her, Sorey?" Littlepine intones.

Sorey chuckles. "She is Pluvimber's beloved pet."

This bit is not surprising. It is common knowledge that I am his best AIT.

"Pluvimber always speaks so highly of her," Cantor adds, "I wouldn't be surprised if he foregoes her last year of training and dumps her right into Harry Potter's hands-"

Everyone glances at me as Cantor suddenly breaks off, and coughs. His eyes dart peevishly to his lap.

"It's fine." I say. But we all know it wasn't fine at all.

The room falls silent, and Littlepine goes back to his paperwork.

"Aren't we going to start?" I finally ask, when the silence becomes too stuffy.

"We are waiting for another member, Weasley." Littlepine's nasal voice rises. "Have some patience."

"Who is it?"

The double doors open at that moment, as though staged to answer my question. Then he strides in with the arrogance that only he held, with the carefree expression only he had, dressed in the expensive robes only he thought was appropriate for any normal day.

Malfoy. The member we were waiting for was Malfoy. I don't believe it.

"Are you lost?" I blurt out. Surely this is a mistake.

He looks at me. "No. But I suppose you are."

If no one else was here I would hurl every possible insult at his face. But since there were people here, I stay silent.

"Scorpius." Littlepine says. "Try not to be late next time."

I stare at Littlepine. I can't believe he sounded nice, and referred to Malfoy by his first name.

"I apologize, sir." Malfoy replies. "I thought it was inappropriate to come straight here, grimy and sweaty after simulation training."

I know his words were a direct insult to me. I clench my hands into fists under the table.

"Not to worry." Says Littlepine. Not to worry? That slimy little git had Littlepine swooning over him. That twat. That prick. He is going to have Littlepine eating out of his palm by the end of this meeting.

That cannot happen. If Littlepine must be charmed by anyone, it should be me. I'm the better AIT. I need to be the better Auror.

Littlepine starts introducing. "This here is Arabus Cantor, and this is Zane Sorey...and, I assume you know Weasley."

Weasley. Was that disdain?

Malfoy nods once, not even a verbal acknowledgement, just a stupid obnoxious nod, and takes his seat across from me. I keep my face turned away from him. I don't need to spoil my vision with his retarded face.

I badly need an Advil, or some other muggle headache cure Celestia has in her medicine cabinet.

Littlepine flicks his wand, and a 3-dimensional map eases up from the tabletop, the smooth polished wood morphing and sharpening with details. The buildings have sunken windows, with the same sheen as the tabletop had. The streets are complete with wooden cars and pedestrians. This is a map of London. Littlepine points his wand at a building.

"Rollich has reported that this office building has not been used for days." Littlepine says. "That is unusual activity according to our muggle contacts."

Littlepine smiles, like he is thinking of a joke. "I do not believe that this is valid Resistance activity, but the muggles have been paranoid, and their please-men want us to examine the inside for any dangerous activity." He pauses. "And they are quite impatient that this examination is done as soon as possible. In other words, by tomorrow."

I notice that Malfoy doesn't react to any of his words, but spends the entire time staring intently at the little model.

"This operation is a Confirmation Scout." Littlepine says. "Your objectives are to report back any information found relating to the Resistance, if it was the Resistance." He pauses again, bored. "I doubt it. The muggles are an easily frightened bunch."

He looks at me. "Any questions?"

"If this is a Confirmation Scout, sir..." Cantor says slowly. "Why are you sending out only two of us?"

"I am not sending two of you. I am sending four of you." Littlepine's voice is brittle like ice.

The shocked silence that follows feels like a slap to the face. Cantor opens his mouth to protest, but thinks better of it.

Littlepine smiles again. "What a lovely welcome to our newest recruits, Cantor."

Cantor's face heats up, and his eyes darting to Sorey, a fleeting image of indecision.

"I am perfectly capable." I address Cantor.

No one says anything. My frustration mounts. "Pluvimber wouldn't send me on this if I wasn't."

Still, no one says anything. Then Sorey opens his mouth, his face looks pale. "Shouldn't we bring in more Aurors, sir?"

"You heard the girl, Sorey." Littlepine says simply. "Pluvimber believes them both capable."

"You have greater authority than Pluvimber, sir."

"I trust my colleagues." Littlepine sounds dreadfully amused. "Do you not?"

"I am perfectly capable." I say again, louder. "It's only a Confirmation Scout, it's not some Track and Capture."

Another lengthy silence. Malfoy does nothing but stare at the map, ignorant.

"The Resistance are more notorious than our usual offenders, sir." Sorey says quietly.

Littlepine flicks his wand. The map sinks back, and becomes the tabletop again.

"Then you better hope those two will not fuck up." He says.

.

.

The pub is alive with the sound of conversation and beer tankards being picked up and set down again and again. No one pays attention to us. It's a good choice for discussing our plan. The dim lighting casts deep shadows on everyone's faces. The decor is hideous. We pick an empty spot near the corner. Cantor, saying that he needed to loosen up a bit, orders a round of drinks for all of us.

I need to get them to accept me before we leave for the building at midnight. The best plan is to do what they do, to try to look the part of an Auror. It is very unprofessional to drink before a covert operation, but Cantor and Sorey were both agitated and twitchy, like they had drunk too much coffee. Their short attention spans will not do when it comes to Confirmation Scouts. After some internal debate on professionalism, I decide it's best to drink with them. I watch Cantor, and take a sip when he takes a large swig. He smacks his lips. I couldn't do that, not with this beer. I hold back a grimace as I force myself to swallow. The aftertaste is worse than the sip.

Malfoy doesn't acknowledge his drink at all, the conceited prick. He folds his arms and leans back, his posture not entirely relaxed.

Sorey takes a long drink from his, and peers around him over the rim of his tankard. His wand flicks quickly at our surroundings. The background noise becomes muffled, and the faces become a little blurred. I don't recognize the spell he used, but it seems great for ensuring privacy.

"What spell was that?" I ask him.

He doesn't answer, but instead sneaks his wand back up his sleeve and takes another drink.

"How many years have you been in training?" Sorey asks, setting down his tankard.

"Not very long." Malfoy replies before I could open my mouth.

That bastard. Did he think he could speak for me?

"I'm almost a year into training." I inject, before Sorey could speak again.

Sorey's eyebrows jump in surprise. "Almost a year? You're joking."

I flush at his implications. "I'm the top of my classes, sir." I pause, and then add for emphasis, "Hermione Weasley is my mother."

"What a surprise." I hear Malfoy mutter.

"I'm the top of all of my classes." I continue, speaking a little louder for Malfoy's benefit. "Pluvimber has said that I excel far more than any student he has taught-"

"Funny how he said the same about me." Malfoy says, nonchalant.

I keep looking at Sorey, "I'm the best at Stealth and Tracking, Muggle Relations, Advanced Duelling-"

"You're the best at duelling?" Sorey interrupts.

"Yes." I say.

Sorey's frowning. "I heard from Littlepine that Scorpius is the best at duelling." He turns to Malfoy. "He said that you have a sharp mind and a fast tongue."

Already, Malfoy was starting to win over Sorey without doing anything. That undeserving git. Littlepine was doing all of his advertising for him, and now Malfoy is getting ahead in his networking. I have to do more.

"I've beaten Pluvimber in duels." I say, and take another sip of my beer. I hope this is working. I take another sip. A long one.

Cantor nods. "That's impressive."

I beam at him. "Thank you."

"That's good." Sorey says. "It is procedure for a practised dueller to be part of the first pair to enter the building."

He pulls out a paper map from his pocket, and smoothes it in front of us.

"Here's the plan: Scorpius and Arabus would approach from the east." He draws out an imaginary line with his finger to the building. "Rose and I would approach from the west. We'll enter in the building first-"

"I don't agree with this." Malfoy says quietly, his eyes drifting from his untouched drink to the map.

Cantor and Sorey both look at him. "Why is that?" Sorey asks.

"Since the Resistance are not like the usual offenders you deal with, it would be unwise to choose...an unhelpful assistant."

My cheeks burn at his implication. "Are you suggesting that these experienced Aurors do not know what they are doing?"

"Are you suggesting that Arabus and I enter first?" Sorey asks.

"No." Malfoy clasps his hands in front of him. "I'm suggesting that you choose one of us to make the first pair, but you should choose the best contender. Otherwise, the operation could go very wrong."

I want to dump my beer on his pointed, disinterested face. I keep my voice steady. "My credentials are not a lie."

"I never said they weren't." He replies.

"Then you should have no problem with the current decision."

Malfoy brushes an imaginary crumb off the table. "I have a problem with the fact that better credentials are not recognized."

"They have already been recognized." I say, trying to keep the heat out of my voice and sound friendly. "They are being recognized with this plan."

"It sounds like you are not aware that there are better credentials." Malfoy replies idly. He looks at Cantor and Sorey with the slightest lift of his eyebrows. "She is not the only one who has beaten Pluvimber in a duel."

Fuck you, Malfoy.

"It was more than one duel." I say.

"Two duels then." He says to them.

I can feel myself losing my forced friendliness. "Actually, it was a total of nine."

"Oh?" He finally turns to look at me, like I was a pesky fly that needed to be gone. "I've beaten him in a total of ten."

Cantor refills his drink for the fifth time, and downs it. Sorey's pinched face looks more pinched than ever, and his hand maintains a vice-like grip on his beer.

"Ten?" I fight to keep my voice civil. "I don't recall that happening."

"I'm not surprised you can't recall such things." Malfoy turns back to Sorey. "I also excel in Magic Tracing and Identification, Physical and Mental Extremities, Leglimency and Occlumency, to name a few."

"Leglimency and Occlumency?" Cantor looks genuinely impressed, and also very tipsy. "How far can you go?"

"I can bring out old forgotten memories." Malfoy answers pleasantly.

"And would you need to do such on a Confirmation Scout?" I ask.

Malfoy ignores me.

Cantor's face is glazed from all the alcohol. Sorey heaves a sigh. "Very well. Arabus and Scorpius will enter first. I will enter ten minutes later with Rose."

I grip the edge of the table hard. "Wait, we should think this through-"

"No." Sorey rubs an eye. "Let's move on. It's almost midnight. We need to move."

He folds the map. "Cantor and Scorpius will do the first sweep, check all floors and make sure it's clear. Green sparks mean it is, yellow means it isn't, and red means there's immediate danger and that we must contact the ministry for backup before joining them." He looks from me to Malfoy. "Understood?"

I watch as Cantor blinks slowly. "Sir? Cantor looks a little..."

Sorey glances at him. "He'll be fine." He tells me. "He can handle a lot of alcohol."

By the looks of it, Cantor could not hold tonight's alcohol.

"Maybe we should go in first..." I suggest, gesturing towards Cantor. "I don't think he's up for it."

"He's gone into missions drunk before." Sorey says dismissively. He checks his watch again. "And as you have mentioned earlier Rose, this is a Confirmation Scout."

I can't believe this. I chew the inside of my cheek.

Sorey catches the look on my face. "I know its unprofessional Rose, but professionalism becomes relaxed after years of service."

That was not what I was thinking of. But I let it go.

Malfoy is likely to mess up his task with a drunken Cantor, so when we report back to Littlepine, he will lose his favour.

.

.

The air was colder tonight than usual, like it was ushering me to get inside. But Sorey's orders were to stay put and wait for those dratted green sparks that are more than five minutes late.

The muggle café we are outside of is decently busy. Sorey chose it for the attention we would get, which is less than none. A few straggling muggles pass us, speaking in loud voices about a football game. On the street, a red car rushes by. Then a black one. I drum my fingers in a rhythmic cycle on the table between us. Sorey checks his watch again.

No one comes outside of the café to bother us. Muggles who slowly exit walk past as if we weren't there. I didn't see Sorey cast any spells, but I'm sure that he did. Like the one in the pub, I have no idea what it is.

With nothing to do but wait, my thoughts drift to training. We learnt hexes, jinxes, spells that were fairly challenging yet conquerable. Sorey's spells looked nothing of the sort, but unique and highly efficient. I wonder if it's part of the second year curriculum, or the third year. I think of asking, but remember that he had completely avoided the question in the pub. Maybe another time. The desire to know nags at the back of my mind.

"Should we go in?" I settle for that question instead. Sorey checks his watch. Another five minutes have passed.

"We will wait." He replies.

More waiting. I press my lips together tightly to suppress a groan. What were they doing in there that was taking so long? The building wasn't very big, and checking for people on the first floor takes around two minutes. They were taking twenty.

"Maybe there's something wrong." I say, my gaze wandering to the windows on the third and fourth floor.

Sorey checks his watch again. "Red sparks mean that something is wrong."

"Maybe they forgot." I say, searching for some excuse to convince Sorey to forget about the green sparks. "Cantor might have passed out drunk, and Malfoy forgot." I pause, then add on. "He's very irresponsible."

Sorey frowns. "Is that true? He does not seem forgetful."

I lie. "He is. He doesn't like to admit it."

Sorey frowns at the building. "I think we will enter then."

Finally! I try to keep my gait slow as we skirt around the main entrance and enter from the side.

It is pitch black inside. Sorey closes the door behind us and I whisper, "Lumos."

The lobby is sparse, with nothing but a metal receptionist desk. The windows and the main doors are covered in thick brown paper, keeping out all light. The air smells stale and of the dull grey carpet that blankets the floor. It holds an atmosphere of being out of use for several years.

"Do you know the background of this building?" I ask Sorey. My voice is quiet, as though I could not disturb the darkness.

"No." He says, distracted. "Scorpius and Arabus are not here."

Indeed they weren't. I tip my wand to my right. Here were two elevators and an opened door. Beyond it, into further blackness, was stairs.

Sorey peers at it for a long time. Cantor and Malfoy are not on the first floor. The door to the stairs is wide open. I can feel my thoughts steadily invoking anger. How many floors have Malfoy covered already? He never unintentionally forgot the green sparks, he wanted to complete this on his own. He wanted to make sure I never surpassed him.

That cunning bastard.

"I'm going upstairs." I tell Sorey, already walking towards the stairwell. I can hear Sorey trailing behind me. "I'm going to check the second floor."

"I'm right behind you," he says.

I proceed up the stairs cautiously, listening and examining my surroundings along the way. The stairwell is narrow, and with the darkness, the space felt eerily suffocating. When we get to the second floor landing, I yank open the door with relief.

It is a room full of cubicles. This is a workspace. The rows went on and on, desks close together.

At the end of the last row, a light was bobbing behind a cubicle.

We silently make our way over, and I pause just before passing the desk divider.

Use expelliarmus first, then stupefy.

I throw myself into the cubicle, wand ready-

A wand is pointed at my throat. An inch away.

Malfoy's unamused face stares at me, his sharp cheekbones looking scarily defined by my wandlight.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, Weasley?" He says coldly.

I bat his wand away. "I thought you were a Resistance member."

Malfoy stares at me for a long time. "If I was, you would be dead by now. Have you forgotten that barging in like a crazed hyena is a death wish?"

I narrow my eyes. "Actually, the element of surprise is far more useful than slithering about like some spineless worm. Especially when there is a team member with you."

Malfoy raises an eyebrow. "What team member?"

I look behind me. Sorey was nowhere in sight.

"But-" I stare hard. "He was just there..."

"Can't hold your alcohol?"

I whirl around, facing him. No Aurors. No holding back. "Fuck you-"

"Have I touched a nerve?" He says dryly.

"I am perfectly fine." I snap. "It's you who can't hold any alcohol. You were so cowardly you didn't even touch your tankard, you twat."

"If you say so." He says this casually, like we were talking about the weather. "I happen to remember you spewing your guts out in the Prefect bathroom after a-"

I jab my wand at his chest. Red sparks sing the cotten. "That wasn't alcohol, you stupid git, that was stomach flu-"

"And I suppose alcohol cures stomach flu?" He's completely unconcerned about the blackened spot on his shirt.

I growl in frustration. "You can try to waste my time Malfoy, but I'll still to do a better job than you on this mission."

He stops me, a hand yanking my arm back, as I turn to go.

I break his hold. "What the fuck?"

He doesn't try to reach for me again. "Cantor's already searching the upper floors."

I narrow my eyes in disbelief. "Both the third and the fourth floor?"

"Yes." He watches me intently, like he wants to anticipate my next move.

"And how many floors did you cover?" I will hex him if he says two.

"The first and the second-"

A bloodcurdling scream stabs the dark.