Author's Note: I started writing this story ages ago and I thought I would upload it. Hopefully everyone will like it and hopefully I will get around to updating :)
Chapter One
A loud cracking noise, like the bough of a tree snapping and breaking, came from somewhere within a small forest on the edge of an English village on the edge of nowhere. A few birds flew out from the leafy tops, mere shadowy dots against the grey afternoon sky. The wind danced around the brown trunks of the trees, whistling quietly. Out of the darkness of the forest depths stepped a woman.
The woman was called Hestia Jones. She was short, thin, a little pale. Her hair was jet black, currently pulled back in a messy bun with a turtle shell hair clip, a few loose strands blowing across her cheeks. Intelligent, serious blue eyes matched a serious, non-expressive mouth. Her hands were in the pockets of her black felt coat.
Everything she was wearing was black. Beneath the black coat was a black dress, around her neck a black scarf and on her feet spike heeled black boots. The colour hadn't been her choice but the person she was meeting insisted on "inconspicuous".
Hestia was pretty good at inconspicuous. Truth be told, she was pretty good at conspicuous as well. Hestia Jones could do and be whatever the hell she wanted and that made her a useful ally. Today her command was to be invisible, to blend in with her surroundings. Black seemed the obvious choice, though, now she thought about it, a person entirely in black is often more noticeable. However, she mused in her head, any kind of stranger, in any kind of colour, is likely to be noticed in this Muggle town.
Why Kingsley Shacklebolt wanted to risk a dangerous meeting in this place was beyond her. Why Kingsley wanted to risk a meeting at all was weighing on her mind. He had sent his patronus, a lynx, with a message, telling her to meet him at this time in this place. The only other information Hestia had received was that they "had business to discuss". That had sealed it.
In the current climate, the only possible "business" was business that involved the Order of the Phoenix. Hestia had been a member of the organization since she left school in 1975. During the First Wizarding War, she'd completed many missions, made many friends and even fallen in love with a fellow member, Sirius Black. The group had disbanded in 1981, at the fall of the Dark Lord. But now he was back. And so was the Order.
Hestia had already completed one task on orders from the main players of the Order. That had been to deliver a Muggle family to a safe house, so that Death Eaters couldn't get at them. They were no ordinary Muggle family though. They were the aunt, uncle and cousin of the Chosen One, Harry Potter, and they were some of the most unpleasant people Hestia had ever met.
A small, dingy looking cafe was perched on the edge of a road, the faded concrete the same grey as the sky. Hestia scanned the outside tables, her eyes coming to rest on a dark skinned man wearing a black trench coat over a suit. He had a gold ring in one ear. In her pocket, her hand tensed around the wand she had concealed there. She went over to the table, her heels clicking on the ground, and stood opposite the man.
"I took the liberty of ordering for you." Kingsley Shacklebolt said, in his deep, calm, reassuring tones. "I take it black coffee is fine?"
Hestia loosed her grip on the wand and replied, "Perfectly fine, though I usually take sugar."
It was the code they had organized, based on those used in old Muggle spy films. Most people used safety questions when meeting each other, but the answers (even if obscure) could be researched by the enemy. Responding to a seemingly normal question in the correct way was much harder, so it had become standard practice for important Order meetings.
Hestia pulled out a chair, a dubious looking, wrought iron contraption, and sat down. Kingsley reached across the table to shake her hand.
"I'm glad you could come, Hestia."
Hestia nodded, but said nothing. A few seconds passed in silence, then a scrawny looking waiter came out with two cups and placed them down. The porcelain was faded and chipped. Inside the cup was a watery liquid the colour of mud. Hestia took a sip and then gently placed it back down. The coffee tasted like it had been sitting around since the stone age.
"What's this about, Kingsley?" she asked, as her companion bravely tried to stomach his own drink.
"Social meeting." Kingsley replied with a sly twinkle in his eye.
"If that was so, we could've gone somewhere with better coffee." Hestia said drily. "What's this really about?"
Kingsley smiled, pushed his cup away and stood up.
"Shall we take a walk?" he said.
They left the cafe and began to walk down the middle of the road. Everything seemed to be deserted. A playground, overrun with long, wilting grass, stood next to a ghostly chapel, the white walls like the bones of a once living community. In the distance were row upon row of similarly styled housing units, beyond that a caravan park. As the two walked, Kingsley began to speak.
"I need you to do a job for me."
"Okay, sure." Hestia sighed. "As long as it doesn't have anything to do with those awful Dursleys."
Kingsley laughed and shook his head. They walked a few steps more, then he continued to speak.
"You know, as we all do, that Muggle-borns are being imprisoned everyday by the Ministry, under the control of You-Know-Who."
"Not speaking the name, are we Kingsley?" Hestia teased.
"You've heard then?" Kingsley said. "About the taboo and about-"
"-about you breaking it, losing you're job at the Ministry, almost dying and being forced in to hiding?" Hestia said innocently. "Why yes, Kingsley, yes. I think we've all heard about that one."
"As you've heard so much," Kingsley said testily, "do you know that recently Xenophilius Lovegood has been placed in Azkaban?"
Hestia stopped walking, her brow lined with thought.
"Lovegood?" she said. "As in The Quibber's Lovegood?"
Kingsley nodded.
"It's a huge blow to us. Without the Quibber, we've lost one of our biggest forms of advertisement and support. We need Xenophilius back. In fact, we need to get as many of our people out as we can. We need a jail break, a mass escape from Azkaban. And you're going to do it."
Hestia spun around to face Kingsley, a look of disbelief on her face.
"That's the job you want me to do?" she breathed. "You're just casually asking me to break into one of the most secure prisons in the world? Not only that, but you're asking me to walk out with a crowd of people following? Have you actually gone insane?"
"It needs to be done, Hestia." Kingsley said, his expression deadly serious. "If we want any chance of winning this war, then we need reinforcements. We've lost too many to Azkaban already. I know you've done similar things through out your career."
"Jail breaks?" Hestia almost screamed. "I'm a private detective, Kingsley, not a master criminal!"
"During the First Wizarding War you did recovery work, I believe." Kingsley said.
"I released people on their way to Azkaban, while they were traveling" Hestia said, exasperatedly. "I've never actually been to Azkaban. Getting out is impossible!"
"Sirius Black did it."
Hestia felt a small jolt in her stomach at the mention of the name. She had met Sirius Black in 1978, when he had just joined the Order. They worked together on many undercover missions and became friends, eventually lovers. When the war was over, they planned to open a detective agency together. But that never happened. Sirius was arrested for murder, sentenced for life. Hestia opened the agency by herself and tried to forget the future that she had sketched in frightening detail in her mind. Four years ago Sirius had escaped from prison. Two years ago, Hestia had seen him again. The visions of white picket fences and blissful happiness that she had thrown from her memory came flooding back. She convinced herself that this was a second chance. But it wasn't to be. That same year Sirius Black was killed. Hestia had wept for his death, but ultimately tried to move on. And ultimately she had, but occasionally his memory was sprung on her when she wasn't prepared and she would remember the life she could have had.
"Sirius was different." Hestia murmured after awhile.
"He escaped, Hestia." Kingsley said in ernest. "That shows in can be done! It must be done, so that the innocent don't have to suffer."
"Couldn't somebody else do it?" Hestia asked. "I mean, someone more powerful?"
"Someone more powerful couldn't do the job that you can do." Kingsley replied. " You have the right kind of mind to plan and pull off something like this. You've got skills, undercover experience, contacts."
"And I guess I've got nothing to lose." Hestia sighed. "Who else knows about the plan or lack there of?"
"Only a few of the inner most members." said Kingsley. " Myself, Remus Lupin, Arthur Weasley and Minerva McGonagall. We discussed it and decided it was a vital part of the resistance movement. We're calling it Operation BlackShadow, because you have to do what Black did."
"And more." Hestia muttered.
"Will you do it?" Kingsley asked.
Hestia was silent and then she said, "fine. But I do it on my own terms."
"And what are "your own terms"?" Kingsley asked.
"I want to know I've got backup." Hestia replied. "If I get into trouble, I want to know you won't just leave me."
"You have my word that we will do everything in our power to help you should you have the need." Kingsley said.
"Good enough, I suppose." Hestia shrugged. "The only other thing is this: I want a team."
Kingsley raised an eyebrow.
"I can't do this on my own!" Hestia exclaimed. "You can pick the people, if it bothers you, but I work with a team or I don't work at all."
"We haven't got many people to spare." Kingsley remarked. "But I'll see what I can give you."