PART 1: THE FIRE BEGINS

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry—

At the sound of sirens, Harry Potter opened his eyes.

They seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, reverberating through his chest and pounding around his sleep deprived skull. Harry stifled a groan, and slammed the pillow over his head, not that it did any good. Of course it would come then, just when the nights seemed to be getting bearable...

Harry knew what this meant. It meant action. It meant battle. And it meant that a night that had been on a trajectory for his first consecutive six hours of sleep in months was suddenly going to all hell in a handbasket.

"Potter!" Harry heard the sharp voice, and then his bed curtains were snapped open. The sirens stopped. Light—from those goddamn silvery orbs that Daphne insisted on keeping around—streamed in. Harry caught a glimpse of platinum blond hair and a scarred face, before pain blossomed in his midriff.

"Dammit, Malfoy!" Harry lunged around for his wand, because he was going to Crucio that bastard, to hell with rules, except it wasn't where he thought he'd put it—

"Looking for this?" Draco Malfoy flicked his wrist, and suddenly the stick of wood was twirling between his fingers. "Potter, one of these days you're going to misplace this during an Op, and old Snape will have your hide. That, or an insurgent will…"

Harry snorted. "Like I need a wand to take on an insurgent. Or Snape, for that matter."

"Oh, come on, Potter. We all know you're good. But you're not that—hey!" Harry had reached out, and snatched the wand from his hand mid-twirl.

Harry grinned. "No, Draco, it's not me who should be worried. But you…what about the Evaluation, eh? You think 'old Snape' will have it in him to give you a pass after that disaster?"

Draco's smirk disappeared, and for a moment, Harry saw uncertainty in the flat grey eyes. Next second, it was gone, and the smirk was back. "I'll get by," Draco said. "I always do...and if Snape has a problem, maybe I can break out some of that Malfoy family money."

Harry frowned. He'd never heard of someone successfully bribing their way through school, but of course, that didn't mean it'd never happened. It was true that the Malfoy name did carry a lot of weight. And, from what Harry had heard (from Draco, admittedly), the family estate was sizable.

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but suddenly found his vision obscured by mountains of black hair. Below which sat two laughing green eyes and a dainty mouth, somehow looking great despite the ungodly hour—

"Are you two done? Because, if you recall, we have somewhere to be…"

Daphne Greengrass was short, skinny, and never wasted the opportunity to criticize. She also had something of a soft spot for Harry, so he generally got to stand back and watch the fireworks.

"Is that a proposition, Miss Greengrass?" Malfoy wiggled his eyebrows. "Because after Harry and I are done with our discussion, I can surely make time for you and your—"

But he cut off with a grunt of pain. Apparently Daphne had taken the opportunity to knee him in a rather tender place, causing him to collapse against Harry's bed.

While Malfoy was busy groaning into the mattress, Harry grinned at Daphne. "Nice one. You know that I've been wanting to do that for months? And here you come along, and just take care of it for me."

Daphne gave Harry a wink, tossed her hair back nonchalantly. "Always a pleasure to serve, my Lord." But then her face grew serious, and she hit Malfoy again, this time in the back. "You do realize that we're going to be well and truly late if you two don't hurry up, right? And I do not want to be on the receiving end of one of Snape's punishments."

"Whatever." Malfoy managed to get the word out, though his voice was unusually high. "I don't need you to tell me how to live, Greengrass. You know that I…"

Harry tossed off his blankets. He didn't need to listen to know what came next. The endless flirting, the arguments...he'd seen it a thousand times, no reason it was any more interesting this one. Except, of course, it was his two best friends…and Daphne was...well...it was hard to describe, actually. Sort of larger than life...

Harry pushed it out of his mind. Relationship issues later, he told himself. Gearing up now.

Grabbing his robes and coat, Harry made his way to the outer chamber of the dormitory. Here, things were empty, the shadows on the dark stone and the black-stained windows the only movement. Of course Nott would have gone ahead without them. He would give anything to diminish Harry's reputation while increasing his own, not that it mattered; Harry managed well enough, and Nott...the kid was greasy and insensitive. It wasn't Harry's fault if nobody liked him.

As for Davis...Harry wasn't friends with the girl, exactly, but he did feel a sense of camaraderie with her. When you'd worked with someone for years, been put in countless life or death situations—well, something grew out of it. So Harry was surprised to see that she wasn't waiting. Apparently the whole 'win as a team, lose as a team' wasn't big on people's minds, tonight.

Harry stepped over to the wall and placed his palm against it. A tickling sensation, a flash of red—then the stone vanished, to be replaced by several black doors, shimmering with grey energy. Harry opened on the one on the right and found himself in small, windowless room. In contrast to the dormitories, it was well furnished. A couch placed up against the wall, a large mahogany desk in the center, and an everlasting fire burning away in the fireplace.

But Harry ignored all this finery, and instead busied himself with a table set behind the desk. From this he grabbed his combat robes and boots, plus his set of Communication Runes. The robes and boots went on his body, becoming armor-like in response to his touch; the Runes were inserted into his ears, where they quickly melded with his skin. Last of all came his hood, featherlight—but woven so thoroughly with protective charms that Harry was skeptical that anything but a Killing Curse could penetrate it. Of course, Harry didn't plan on testing it.

Back into the dormitories, into the halls. Harry thought he caught a glimpse of Draco and Daphne, heading into their own 'niche,' as they called them, but then he was through the portrait and into the castle corridor. Here, torches cast blue lights from brackets along the wall. The building was echoey and empty, no different from any other night. Strict punishments bred obedience, and punishments under Snape and Grindelwald were the strictest. Normally, Harry would've appreciated the austere silence, the cold atmosphere, the freedom to just be. But tonight he had something to do…

A few minutes later, Harry had reached the stretch of solid wall. Then he was pushing himself through, into a brightly lit room filled with equipment and people.

"Potter." The cool drawl of Severus Snape greeted Harry. Nothing like Snape to cheer up your night..."You're late."

Harry met the cold eyes of the Professor unflinchingly. "Sorry, Sir. We got held up in the dorms. Something about needing to sleep…"

Snape's eyes were still boring into Harry's. "Do you know, Potter, what I dispatch you for? Do you understand the import? General Grindelwald will be most displeased when he learns that you wasted valuable time sleeping…"

Harry shrugged. Maybe he'd regret it tomorrow, but right then he was too tired to think about future consequences..

From behind Snape came a cough. Harry saw Theodore Nott, in full battle regalia. Dark boots, hood, armor. Tracey Davis stood beside him, similarly clothed. She carried several metal flasks, though what they held Harry didn't know.

"Something wrong, Nott?" Harry wasn't particularly in the mood to play games.

The boy smirked. "Oh, no, Potter. I was just concerned about your lateness. We wouldn't want to have to go into the field without our brilliant leader, after all."

Harry was saved from responding when Draco and Daphne pushed their way into the room. Daphne was now dressed in utilitarian black armor, and Draco in his usual silver. Harry had confronted him about this before; the impracticality of silver armor, when he was supposed to be stealthy, irritated him to no end, but Draco had explained that the clothing had come from his father, passed down through the Malfoy family line for centuries. So Harry let it slide, just barely.

Now Draco and Daphne walked to Harry's side, and stood at attention. Snape looked prepared to give them a lecture, but then he seemed to think better of it; perhaps he didn't want to waste any more 'valuable' time. He brandished his wand at a small circle of runes drawn on the floor, and an image burst forth, a schematic of streets and buildings.

"The DA," Snape began. "A terrorist organization, pure and simple. The group is dedicated to tearing down the society that we—under the esteemed leadership of General Grindelwald—have managed to build over the past several decades...those of you who have been paying attention to recent events will have heard of them."

Harry gave a mental snort. Who hadn't heard of the DA? While the Prophet refused to print any stories on the organization, and was the only officially sanctioned newspaper in the UK, the underground media had been talking up a storm. And while Harry was as loyal a supporter of the Society as the next Hogwarts student, that didn't mean he was averse to getting the occasional tidbit from long-banned mags like The Quibbler.

Interestingly, the DA hadn't been functioning quite like the other terrorist groups that had sprung up periodically in the wake of Grindelwald's takeover. Recent attacks had been violent, yes, damaging, yes, but not particularly dangerous—no more than half a dozen people had died in twice as many attacks. Either the DA was incompetent, Harry had decided, or they had developed a rather unusual model that didn't believe in killing...

And yes, Harry could call it unusual, because he had seen a fair share of political violence over his lifetime. With the appointment of Grindelwald as Supreme Leader of the Society in 1970, waves of Orders had followed. Which banned all media save for the Society approved Prophet, made Wizarding school mandatory for all young children, and exterminated those Muggleborns that remained at large. The former Ministry of Magic had been stripped of its power, and replaced by a new system that put most power in the Supreme Leader and a small, aristocratic Senate.

To quote the General: Every improvement spawned resistance. There would always be those who didn't want change, wanted to stay in the past, when Muggleborns had been allowed to run free and pollute the blood of the strong. And many called Grindelwald's methods unjust, despite the fact that magic was being lost with every marriage between Pureblood and Muggleborn. Despite the fact that without Grindelwald, wizards would eventually be left powerless, wands dead in their hands. It was expected that resistance groups would rise, attempting to subvert everything that Grindelwald had worked for. And rise they did, from the ashes of the old society, using various methods: subterfuge, armies, non-violent protest. Though in recent years, terrorism had become the norm.

It made a certain amount of sense, Harry supposed. When the General had unflinching executed protesters, he had forced resistors into something of a corner. And when Grindelwald and the so called Dark Lord had briefly allied during the early 80s, they had closed ranks efficiently, thoroughly. Of course, Voldemort had disappeared in the fall of 1981. But Grindelwald had maintained his tightened circle of followers, making subterfuge a less than optimal solution…

Snape was still speaking, his wand pointed towards the projected image. "We just received word of another hit on—" a wave of the wand, and the projection reoriented, showing cobblestoned streets and small shops "—Diagon Alley. Of course, the community is not what it once was." No doubt Snape was thinking back to '79, when Grindelwald and Voldemort has razed the area in an attempt to root out one of the last bastions of resistance. The shops had been rebuilt, but the scars were obvious and intimidating. "It appears that explosives have been detonated, shops raided. No major loss of life, as usual. Your objectives: clear the area of any further dangers, and capture any insurgents."

Well. Harry's sleep deprived mind was now starting to work a little better, and it was indicating that things didn't quite add up. "Why us, sir? Cleanup for a terrorist raid? Surely some of the less experienced teams could handle this one." Team Lucifer hadn't touched such a simple project in years. Grindelwald usually saved them for more subtle and potentially dangerous work. Assassinations. Politicking. Of course Harry wouldn't dream of going against the General, but at the same time, you had to wonder…

Snape inclined his head at Harry's words. "This Engagement...is more complicated than it may first appear. Our instruments are picking up an unusual magical signature. It certainly could be a malfunctioning sensor, but Miss Fawcett—" she was their equipment specialist "—has informed me that it also could be potentially more sinister."

"Sinister as in...what?" Daphne spoke from beside Harry.

Snape hesitated. "Miss Fawcett has not seen anything like it before, neither Dark nor benign. If you do your job well, it shouldn't matter. Get in. Sweep the area, discover the source of the signature, if it exists. Neutralize it. Get out." Snape turned turned towards the door, cloak swishing. "Portkeys are on the table. I suggest you take them immediately; we have wasted enough time as it is. Good luck."

With that, Snape was gone, leaving the five students, plus the schematic of Diagon Alley. Harry let the silence sit for a second, steeling himself. While it had been years since he'd done such an impromptu Engagement, he hadn't forgotten the shock of the destruction. The bloodlust that came from probably wouldn't have to fight tonight; back when he'd been a younger year, he'd grown familiar with the methods of groups such as these. They were efficient, they were deadly, but above all, they were fast. They wanted to spread fear, show strength, not stick around for a fight they would surely lose. No, the team likely wouldn't be seeing real battle anytime soon. But even so, Harry felt...unsettled. Snape had managed to convey something that Harry couldn't quite put into words. Something disturbing...

Harry turned, and sized up his team. Draco in his silver armor, looking bored. Nott, rigid and cold. Tracey, impassive as always. And Daphne, determined. We don't appear to be an impressive bunch, he thought wryly. But they don't call us Lucifer for nothing…

Diagon Alley—

Dark sky and dark streets. The flicker of fire. The scent of destruction.

Harry stood in the alleyway, surveying the damage. Buildings sagged, crumpled, surrounded by mounds of rubble. Several storefronts were burning; he made out 'Flourish and Blotts' above a charred canopy. Craters dotted the streets. At his back, arranged in a sharp line: Draco, Daphne, Nott, Davis.

Fortunately, save for them, the area appeared to be empty. It hadn't been popular to begin with, and he was willing to bet that any stragglers had gone on home following the explosions. He knew that most of the shops weren't even kept open this late in the year...

"Daphne. Assess."

Harry saw her tap a stone tied around her wrist, whisper a few words. A flash of green light followed, and Daphne stared, her eyes moving rapidly across the display. After a moment, she straightened. "Nothing nearby. People in several buildings farther out. Could be just shopkeepers…" The rune-embossed tool used a spell to reveal human life, though it was modified to work over a larger radius. Fawcett had also worked into the device a magical activity detector. This was imprecise, but let them spot magical traps from a distance.

"Okay. Davis, you and Nott get on some rooftops. Then I want you to spread out, watch our backs. Holler if something goes wrong." The two immediately nodded, and stepped off into the darkness. Harry turned to Draco and Daphne. "You two. With me."

Harry had run this operation dozens of times, both in the simulations and in real life. A simple sweep, checking for victims or anything sinister. It should be quick. Easy. As Snape said, they'd get in, get out, be on their way with nothing to report...so why did he get the feeling that something was off?

Harry, Draco, and Daphne moved together flawlessly, using the rubble as cover. They ran in a staggered line, head low, wands out. He could feel Nott and Davis's gazes on his back, and Harry's eyes were constantly scanning, looking for movement, for the slightest disturbance.

The buildings flashed by, and Harry recognized them, even in their damaged state. The Apothecary where he had purchased ingredients for Potions and Poisons. The ice cream parlor where he had sat, chatting with Daphne and Draco...The front windows were smashed in, and the doors broken down. For a second, Harry found himself distracted by the memories, of more innocent times, but then he pushed them away. Time for reflection is later. The time for focus is now.

Harry hailed Davis through his Rune. "See anything?"

"All quiet." The voice issued directly into his ear, like Tracey was standing right beside him. "Nott says the same."

Harry snorted. Apparently, Nott wasn't in a communicative mood.

As they approached the end of the street, Harry felt...a sort of tension, growing stronger. Almost a crackling in the air. The hair on his arms stood on end.

Harry raised a hand. "Do you feel that?"

Daphne nodded, but Draco raised his eyebrows. "Feel what, exactly?"

"I'm...not sure. Like…" Harry would've described it as electricity, but he didn't think Draco would take kindly to the Muggle reference. Nor would he understand it. "Like static, maybe. Daphne?"

She was fiddling with her Rune bracelet, looking intense. The green light flashed. After a moment, she shrugged, then said: "Out and to the left, there are two people in a shop, at about 100 meters. A couple more a bit farther along."

"Traps?"

She bit her lip. "Not that I can see."

"But?"

"Snape wasn't lying about a strange signal. To the left, at the end. Something powerful, a recent ritual, maybe? It's not like anything I've ever seen, and it's blotting out all other activity over a 50 meter radius…"

Harry touched his ear, and relayed Daphne's words to Nott and Davis. "Stay high, and make sure we're not ambushed."

He motioned Daphne and Draco forwards, crouched low. They crept around the corner, dashed behind a burning table, and peered out, only to find...nothing. The street was empty, the only sounds coming from the crackling fire and slight wind. Quiet. Harmless. But Harry was starting to feel more ill at ease.

The street stretched away into darkness, and Harry couldn't see the end of it. It was like a tunnel that went on and on…

Upon approaching the first occupied store, they slowed. Daphne used her Rune again. "Upstairs. To the right…Probably just shopkeepers, but we should check. Harry, I think—Harry?"

But Harry had stopped listening. His senses, highly attuned from years of experience, were questing out. He thought he had caught movement, in the periphery of his vision—from somewhere across the street—

Slowly he scanned the buildings, looking for a flicker, a change in the shadows. Behind him, Daphne and Draco had paused as well, and were following his gaze. But nothing seemed out of place…

His eyes fell on a particularly damaged shop, with a gaping hole in the front. Between the wrecked stone walls, Harry saw lines of shelves, some standing, others fallen, covered with thousands of small boxes. For a moment, his mind flashed back to nearly six years before: the Wandmaker's grey eyes, locked onto his own; the feeling of euphoria, as magic coursed through his arm; Ollivander's parting words. I think we should expect great things from you, Mr. Potter…

Then he was back in the burning street, surrounded by rubble. The static was heavier than ever—and Harry inexplicably found himself moving forwards, towards the shop.

"Harry! Harry, what are you doing?"

"Potter, get back here—"

Daphne and Draco's voices were only part of the background. There was something compelling about the destroyed building, like it was calling Harry, drawing him forwards. A distant part of him knew that he should stop. That such an approach was dangerous, they hadn't even cleared the area. But another part of his mind was urging him on.

Dimly, he felt Daphne's presence. She had broken cover, and followed him. One hand gripped his arm, and the other was activating her detection Rune. Harry heard her yell, he knew that something was wrong, but he kept walking, until he reached the gaping front, until he stepped through.

Lumos. A small column of light shot from the tip of his wand, illuminating a crushed counter—the long shelves—burnt piles of boxes—

A pool of blood.

Heart pounding, Harry stepped forwards, raising the light. He saw twisted legs, a mangled torso. And the eyes were sightless, staring upwards.

Garrick Ollivander, dead. Crushed by debris, if the wounds and the rubble were any indication. Surprising, because the DA didn't usually leave bodies. The DA...

The world came rushing back. Draco was just behind him, surveying the shelves with a beam from his wand. Daphne was standing to Harry's right, not looking at the dead wandmaker, but brandishing her wand over the detection Rune. She cursed, cursed twice more—and the display burst to life, showing something bright, something jagged—

The magic in the air peaked, and Harry sensed rather than saw movement from between the shelves. His wand snapped forwards, illuminating a male face. Sweaty and hard, underneath an inky hood.

"Get down!" Harry screamed, as the first curse darted forwards, smashing through the place where Harry's head had just been. Then three more, in rapid succession, narrowly missing Draco. One spell hit the floor, leaving a gaping black hole where the stone had been.

"What the—?" Draco seemed disoriented by the sudden attack, but Harry was already moving, leaping forwards to shield Daphne, who had been distracted by her bracelet. A wave of his wand, and a purple barrier bloomed before them, in time to turn back another wave of spells. Then Harry quickly dropped the shields. He cast a volley of his own, forcing his opponent to dive out of sight.

Harry immediately turned to Daphne. She was kneeling on the ground, still staring at her wrist. She looked up at Harry, eyes wide. "Harry, the signal. I think—" she coughed "—I think they're the source—"

But Harry barely heard her. He was looking for Draco, who was scrambling to his feet. Their eyes met, before another two spells came, what looked like a dual casting, this time aimed at Draco, and Harry barely got his wand up in time to block.

Damn, he's fast. And powerful...Harry could feel the strength required to turn back the spells, and it was beyond anything he'd ever encountered—well, except for his practice sessions with Grindelwald, but the General, but that was Grindelwald. And rumor was that he had the Elder Wand…

Not to mention, this wizard had just pulled off a dual casting. In battle. The power and concentration required to do that...well, Harry wasn't certain, but he was willing to bet that even Snape would struggle to complete such a feat.

Harry blocked another curse. Then there was a pause, which he seized: "Incendio!"

The shelves in the rear of the store burst into flames, and the room was filled with a garish light. Harry saw his opponent dive out of sight, and whirled back to his friends.

"Draco, Daphne!" He snapped out the words. "Get back, get out. I can handle this."

"But—"

"That is an order, Greengrass. Get the hell out!"

Harry saw indecision on her face, but he had said the magic words. They had been trained to listen to their superiors since the age of eleven; it had become nearly an unconscious decision for them all, and Harry knew it. He caught a last glimpse of her anguished expression, but then she and Draco stepped outside, leaving Harry alone in the burning building. Alone, save for one…

It wasn't as if Harry didn't appreciate his friends' support. They were excellent duelists, all of them, and could certainly hold their own in an ordinary fight. But from what Harry had seen from his opponent, this wasn't going to be an ordinary fight. He, Harry, was having trouble turning back some of the more powerful courses, and he knew himself to be stronger than the others. So having Draco and Daphne beside him became a liability, a restriction. Add to that Snape's orders to capture, not kill, and Harry was looking at a disturbingly high chance of someone getting hurt. Which he simply would not allow.

Plus, a small part of him was itching to test out his skills against a serious opponent. The operations he'd been a part of rarely featured duels with powerful wizards. The Hogwarts games were entertaining, but they were just that: games. His private lessons with Snape, and, on occasion, Grindelwald, were more serious, but Harry always had the impression the two men were holding back. And practice just didn't simulate the heat of a real battle...the adrenaline…

Homenum Revelio. Harry cast the detection spell non-verbally, just in time; he whirled to his left as a jet of red shot by, sizzling with power. Then he conjured a shield, which reflected back some sort of Body-Bind Hex, before he cast a nonverbal Aguamenti, and transfigured the beads of water into knives. A quick Banishing, and these punched through the shelves, leaving holes the size of fists in the wood. There was a long silence...

From behind the shelves stepped the man. Despite the firelight, Harry couldn't get another glimpse of his face; he had pulled his hood low.

"Submit now, and I will let you live." The voice didn't seem to issue from under the hood. More like the air itself. And it was inhumanly low, like the person was using a Modulation charm. Though as to why, Harry couldn't guess. Unless, somehow, they knew each other?

Harry smiled grimly. "You know what? I was about to give you the exact same proposal." He brandished his wand at a the burning bookshelves. Immediately, the flames formed into the shape of a lion, which reared back to bite. A wave of the opponent's wand, and the lion was cleaved it in two, but Harry had already been casting a follow up, and two Cutting Curses shot forwards, one aimed at each knee. Then a broad Incendio, which sprayed flames through the air, obscuring the hooded man's view. Another Transfiguration turned some broken glass from the back of the store into needles, which Harry Summoned. His opponent managed to whirl in time and throw up a shield, but a couple got through, and the man roared in pain.

Harry's estimation of his opponent's skills were dropping rapidly. The man was certainly powerful, of that there could be no doubt. And his reflexes and concentration were impressive. But his lack of precision, his lack of ability to think creatively—those put him at the mercy of someone slightly faster, who forced him on the defensive...someone like Harry. Also, he seemed strangely restrained in his spell choices. From what Harry recognized, he hadn't been attacked by anything lethal. Only spells that would stun or restrain...except for a few at the very beginning.

Harry could tell the man was tiring. His spells weren't as powerful, his dodges were a hair too slow. Harry brought his wand up for one more shot—and paused, because his opponent was—was—

The man was screaming. He was staring at his hand, and screaming, and the wand was glowing, a white hot light—Harry felt reality slow, felt it begin to distort around him, as the air became even thicker with magic—he thought he saw the wand thrown towards the wall—

The world exploded.

"Harry! Harry!"

"Come on, get up—"

"What's wrong with him? Is he—"

"Daphne, focus! Can you Levitate him?"

"Yes—but he's burning— "

Harry felt heat lick his face, and his eyes snapped open. Daphne was leaning over him, face illuminated by firelight, and Draco spraying water on his back.

"What—?" he croaked.

"Harry!" Daphne looked—well, relieved was probably too mild of a term. Her cheeks were flushed from the heat and her eyes were wide, but she was smiling weakly. "Don't talk; we need to get you out of here. Can you stand?"

"Yeah—I'm—I'm fine—" Harry pushed himself to his feet, but the world seemed unstable. He was forced to lean on Daphne's shoulder. "I mean, I—what happened to him? The duelist?"

"We—we were outside, trying to see what was happening. Then the back of the store exploded." Daphne pointed, and Harry saw a gaping hole, directly across from the first. "The man came flying out. We tried to stop him, but he Disapparated. There was some sort of explosion, everything felt weird for a second, like the world had—I don't know—rearranged itself, somehow. And we—I—was so, so sure that you were…you know...and when you didn't come out—" Daphne broke off, and Harry pretended not to see her wipe her eyes.

"It's all right," he told her quietly. "I'm okay. Just a little battered, is all…the other duelist, he—something happened—his wand—" His wand. Harry had seen the wand glowing, flying through the air, before it—did whatever it did. At least, Harry assumed that the wand was responsible for the blinding light, the vibrations that had shaken his body into unconsciousness… "Wait. Just a second..."

"What?" Daphne had been slowly leading Harry towards the door, while Malfoy doused the flames around them. But Harry stopped, and was looking off to where the duelist had thrown the wand.

"I think…" Harry trailed off, and let go of Daphne. The room spun only minimally as he walked. Then Harry was there, and sure enough, the small stick of wood was lying against charred wood. Though the wand itself seemed unburnt. And—Harry bent down and placed his fingers on the handle—cold to the touch. Whatever energy Harry had felt earlier seemed to have vanished entirely.

"Harry?" Daphne was looking at him curiously, and Draco's eyebrows were raised. Harry quickly stowed the wand in a pocket of his armor.

"Sorry," he muttered. "I saw some movement during the fight. Thought maybe someone else was watching from over here. Probably just my imagination." He wasn't sure what made the words slip out. He'd never lied to Daphne and Draco; he hated the idea of him not trusting them enough to give them information, believing that they'd slip up, or—or betray him. But he had a sense that he couldn't quite shake. A feeling of discontent. Of danger. Maybe it just lingered from before, but Harry didn't think so. And he was pretty sure that the wand had something to do with it...

Harry straightened. "Come on. We should check on the others."

Shrugging, Draco followed him outside. Daphne brought up the rear, looking pensive.

The sky had brightened, and the last of the fires seemed to have gone out. Harry scanned the rooftops, and hailed Nott and Davis through the Rune. "Is everything okay out here?"

There was a silence, and then: "Yes. All clear. What happened in that building? Greengrass said there was a duel. You get beat?"

"The DA left somebody behind." Harry ground his teeth together. "They escaped."

Harry heard Nott laugh. "The great Harry Potter, defeated by a mere insurgent? Taken down by such ordinary scum, you must be off your game, buddy." The words were playful, but the tone sharp.

"I didn't say I was defeated. I said he escaped."

"Of course, Potter. I—"

Davis's voice cut him off. "Potter, there's something you might want to see."

Harry sighed. Surely he'd had enough for one night… "What?"

"Farther down the street. In the main square...You'll want to get on a roof for a better view."

Harry obeyed, Draco and Daphne at his back. They quickly Levitated one another atop the nearest building, and then moved along at a brisk jog, avoiding rubble. Davis waved at Harry from the distance. He reached her side. "Yes?"

Wordlessly, she pointed off the edge of the roof, to the cobblestones below. There was something liquid, something red…

Harry stepped forwards, and the stains resolved themselves into words. They stretched across the square, written in such broad strokes that Harry could read the message, even in the dim light:

Dumbledore's Army.

Still Recruiting.

Somewhere in Scotland—

The woman met the man at the door. One look at his charred cloak, at his sweaty face, and she knew something was wrong. "What the hell happened?"

The man collapsed into a chair, ignoring the dirt that fell from his clothes. "I did—as I said I would." He was breathing heavily. "After you left, I wrote the message. Then I waited…"

"And?"

"He came. The boy and his team."

"He came? How do you know it was him?"

"I hid in one of the shops. Crept forwards for a closer look. He's...exactly as I expected. Exactly...oh, Merlin." There was a long pause. "I recognized some of his team. Draco Malfoy, like a little clone of Lucius. A girl, probably Greengrass. Didn't get a look at the others. He had them stationed on the rooftops…"

The woman pursed her lips. "You still haven't explained about the clothes."

"Oh. Right." He paused. "I was Disillusioned. In Ollivander's. But then the spell...broke. They shouldn't have been able to see me, but…"

"They saw you?" the woman hissed. "What about your face? Merlin, tell me you kept the hood on."

The man looked uncertain. "Yes to the hood. It was dark, but he started a fire. I tried to capture them, to modify their memories, but Harry stopped me. I barely got away. He truly is a exceptional duelist…" The man looked off in the distance for a moment, then gave his head a shake. "I don't think he got a good look under the hood, but…"

"But what? He might've? There's a slight possibility?" The woman let out a hysterical laugh. "Oh, damn. Damn. Damn. This is a disaster. Why you had to insist on going in the first place is beyond me, but this?" She collapsed into a chair, head in her hands. Took several deep breaths. "God. We're going—we'll have to—" She broke off, and met the man's eyes. "Do you realize the problems this causes? If Grindelwald looks into his mind, and sees—"

"Of course I do." The man seemed more resigned than anything else. "We'll have to move everything up, put things into motion now. Things are mostly ready, but a few more months wouldn't have hurt."

"Would have hurt? Ollivander said that there's no guarantee he can be done in the original time period. Now…"

"Oh, yes. How is the man doing, by the way?"

"He's fine. Struggled a bit at first. When we told him about his daughter, he became more cooperative. But don't change the subject! All else aside, this means that we're going to have to accelerate the plan for Hogwarts. The girl will still be deployed this week, but she'll have to work that much faster. Any extra time means more opportunities for Grindelwald to see. And that's if the boy doesn't suspect anything."

"She girl will manage. She's…"

"Adaptable?"

"I was going to say brilliant, but that, too. Of course, she was trained by the best." The man gave a salute. Then he grew more serious. "There's something else we should talk about, though. The wand."

The woman looked surprised. "What about it?"

"Like I said, the reason that they saw me was because my Disillusion charm broke. And then, at the end, the wand did something funny. Burned my hand, sort of exploded…"

"What?"

"Yeah. I've never seen anything like it. You could practically feel the magic in the air."

The woman groaned. "Just what we need. Further problems...I'll add it to the list, talk to Ollivander. Could I see it?"

The man hesitated. "I kind of...lost it."

The woman stared at him. After a minute, she said, "You're not serious."

He nodded. "When it...did whatever it did...I threw it away. I don't think the boy saw. We were blasted apart. It's...it's probably still there. That, or it burnt up. I'll send someone by tomorrow to check, but I don't think that we need to worry on that front."

"Of course you don't. Of course not! Reckless as always, aren't you? Not a care in the world for how this could affect our plans, as long as you get to do as you like. No concept of sacrifice—"

"To hell with that!" The man's face had suddenly become cold. "I've sacrificed more than you could possibly know, more than you could possibly imagine, so that I could be here. Don't just sit there and tell me that I don't understand it."

After a long moment: "Sorry."

"It's fine." After another moment, the man rose off the couch, groaning. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I believe I have a meeting to attend to…"

The woman watched him leave. Sometimes she wondered if it had been a mistake, letting him lead. The truth was, he was devastatingly competent, most of the time. And plenty charismatic. But he tended towards arrogance...and recklessness…

The sun slowly rose over the sea, and she watched the sky brighten. It would only be a few more months, and then…well, she knew what came next. They had been in the shadows for so long, but it was time to rise. War was coming, and with it...a chance for something new. A chance to fix the disturbingly flawed world…

Though, strangely enough, her mind kept coming back to a particular boy. One with raven hair, and a lightning bolt scar.

"Hold on, Harry," she muttered. "We're coming. We'll get you out." Let's just hope it's not too late.

A/N: Thanks for reading! I love feedback, and so I appreciate any reviews, truly. And if you have any questions, just ask!