I'd like to thank brianna-xox, fredfred and Otium for betaing. They improved the story a lot.
Chapter 11: Spies
'Historians still debate if and which of the atrocities committed by the Dark Lord's forces were actually so-called 'false-flag' operations by the Muggleborn Resistance or the Order of the Phoenix. The attacks that did not kill their targets are a particular point of contention. Those who suspect such subterfuge point to the fact that the attacks ultimately hindered the Dark Lord's cause more than they helped it, serving to galvanise some of the flagging opposition to the Death Eaters into supporting Dumbledore out of fear for their own lives. Others are of the opinion that the Dark Lord had shown such short-sightedness before, which had arguably cost him the peaceful takeover of Wizarding Britain before the Second Blood War started.'
- Excerpt from 'Wizarding Britain in the 20th Century' by Albert Runcorn
London, East End, October 13th, 1996
Hermione Granger frowned when she saw the headline of the latest Daily Prophet. 'Death Eaters attack shop in Diagon Alley'. She quickly read the article below it. Death Eaters attacking a half-blood owned shop in Wizarding Britain's shopping mile. That sounded very… convenient. Too convenient.
She glanced at Allan, who was reading over Seamus's shoulder. The Ravenclaw was smiling, though that could just be his reaction to the news - Seamus was grinning wildly as well.
"That was a rather sloppy Death Eater attack," Dean said. "The shop owner escaped with her life. The Dark Lord must be furious."
"If it was a Death Eater attack," Hermione said. "There wasn't a Dark Mark floating in the sky."
"Who else would be attacking half-blood shops?" Dean shrugged.
Hermione had a pretty good idea who would do such a thing. Someone who had proposed exactly that less than a week ago, for example. She stared at Allan. "There might be people who think that such attacks would drive the half-bloods into fighting Voldemort."
Allan met her eyes. "My proposal was not accepted. Even though the results speak for themselves." He pointed at the newspaper. "Besides, we were interrogating the Wireless maintenance wizard that night."
"We finished and returned to London before this attack," Hermione pointed out. "Someone could have snuck out to do this." She saw Seamus frown at that.
Allan shook his head. "I didn't do this."
Hermione nodded. He sounded honest. And she shouldn't suspect him. And yet… she couldn't shake her suspicion. Not completely. "In any case, this attack makes it harder for us to kidnap an Auror patrol without being noticed. They'll be more alert."
That had Allan scowl in response. It might just be anger at a complication, or at a mistake of his. Hermione still couldn't tell. She continued: "We might have to look for other targets who expose themselves. Or wait until things have calmed down. Though that would mean we'd have to depend on the Dark Lord stopping those attacks."
"We could sabotage a Floo connection in a shop or flat, then nab the maintenance wizard who arrives," Justin proposed.
"We'd be vulnerable, waiting for quite a long time in a shop or flat," Hermione replied. "The chance that others came by would be too great."
"We should be able to easily overpower a patrol," Allan said. "Especially if they are inexperienced Aurors."
"But without anyone noticing? They'll be on the lookout for that. Especially with other Aurors having gone missing." Hermione shook her head. "We can do it, but we'll have to be very cautious."
Louise nodded. "They will be waiting for any sign of an attack, with a ready element and reserves. Even with all of us there, we could have trouble escaping."
"You could ask your friends for the addresses of some likely targets," Seamus said. His tone clearly indicated who he meant.
Hermione pursed her lips. "They're not exactly on speaking terms with the kind of purebloods we want." Which Seamus should have known. Sirius could give her some addresses, but that would run the risk of exposing him. She sighed. "I have a plan to get us the locations of some homes, but I need to ensure it can be done."
And she might pick up something that would help her find out the truth about this attack on the hatter at the same time.
Dorset, Britain, October 13th, 1996
Draco was very happy about the information they had brought back, Daphne Greengrass found out. "That's exactly what we needed! That traitor will soon pay for his deeds!" The wizard was grinning widely.
"So, how do we do this?" Tracey asked. "Use Polyjuice and change into the muggle to get through the wards?"
Draco shook his head, shuddering. "There's no need for such a disgusting tactic. I've just the thing to put into that basket."
"Poison?" Daphne was curious. Draco was good with potions, even discounting the fact that Snape had been favouring him, but poison seemed to be a rather obvious attack.
The wizard shook his head. "No. I've acquired an object that will curse anyone who touches it. Nye will not suspect that." He grinned. "His death will be slow and painful - just the fate he deserves."
Daphne felt a shudder run down her spine at the sight of the glee Draco showed at this prospect. Then she remembered her parents' corpses, shriveled, burned, looking anything but human, and nodded. Anyone who made common cause with the monsters responsible for that atrocity deserved the worst. "Good."
Tracey nodded as well. "We can place it in the basket tomorrow."
It would be easy to slip it in; a brief Confundus Charm would deal with the muggle, if that was even needed. A Compulsion Charm should be enough to make him stop the vehicle.
"No." Draco's refusal interrupted Daphne's planning. "I'll do it. I know how to handle the object. I would never forgive myself if you came to harm," he added with a smile.
Daphne suspected Draco simply wanted to do it himself, but she agreed. Handling dark objects was dangerous, after all. There would be other occasions to take a more personal hand in avenging her parents.
Hogwarts, October 14th, 1996
"Please have a seat, Severus."
Albus Dumbledore had expected the visit from the Head of House Slytherin ever since he had heard from Nigel.
The Potions master nodded curtly, and sat down. He didn't look comfortable, but then, Severus never did. "There are rumours going around that the Dark Lord struck at Nigel Nye."
Albus nodded. Once again, the speed with which news spread, even to Hogwarts, without using official channels, was surprising. And worrying, should he ever have the need to keep something a secret. "He was attacked with a dark curse this morning."
The younger wizard sneered. "And how did the fool fare?"
Albus knew what he was asking. "Your counter-curse worked as expected." He sighed. "Nigel was hurt, yes, but he'll make a full recovery." It would take him a long time, of course. Longer than needed, actually, and spent at his home. "The Dark Lord should be pleased - a blood traitor was removed from the Wizengamot, even though he survived the attack."
Severus scoffed. "Unless the counter-curse was applied too late, and he will end up suffering from long-term effects."
"He knew the risk, and volunteered." Albus inclined his head slightly.
"After you asked him to. I doubt he came to you and offered to serve as a target in your scheme." The man narrowed his eyes.
Albus didn't deny that. "Your position at the Dark Lord's side will be strengthened by this, and your influence on Mister Malfoy will grow as well."
"And how many more of your old friends will you risk for those goals?" Severus snarled. "Draco's not a misguided young wizard. I have taught him for five years. The death of his parents has only served to radicalise him further. Mark my words: He will murder people."
Albus nodded. The young Mister Malfoy was no James Potter, who had changed for the better after his parents' death. "He will try. But your influence will make it more likely that he will fail. And, should the need for action arise, make it easier to deal with him."
"That is a surprising answer from someone who went to great lengths to protect another student. A student who just failed to become a murderer, though not for any lack of effort on their part." The accusation was clear in his voice.
Albus smiled gently. "If I thought that Mister Malfoy was merely acting out of fear for himself and others, I would not contemplate this course of action. But he is not, is he?"
The younger wizard sighed. "No, he isn't."
The Headmaster nodded. And his Occlumency was not quite as strong as the child believed. "Which is the difference between him and others in a similar position."
"That and the fact that he's a supporter of the Dark Lord and believes in pureblood superiority."
Albus nodded once more, conceding the point. "It is easier to forgive people who are trying to do the right thing, and possibly going overboard, than to forgive those who support evil."
"You were not that ruthless in the last war," the Potions master said, shaking his head.
Albus chuckled, without humour. "I was more ruthless than you knew, but, in hindsight, not ruthless enough."
Severus stiffened, then nodded and stood up. "I will keep you informed of any developments."
"Of course," Albus said. The man had more time now, as well, with over half his students gone from Hogwarts.
He sighed once the door had closed behind the younger wizard. This time, his plan had worked. But as this war had taught him so thoroughly, his plans wouldn't work all the time. He was juggling too many balls, one might say. Unless the Ministry drastically changed soon, he would be faced with the choice of either having to abandon Hogwarts, leaving his students without his protection, or turning the school into a fortress for the Order, inviting attacks by the Ministry or the Dark Lord. Neither option would be beneficial for the children under his care.
And yet he couldn't shake the thought that he should have made this choice long ago. But back then, he had still hoped to turn the Ministry around.
Dorset, Britain, October 14th, 1996
"Welcome to my humble abode."
To Daphne Greengrass's surprise, Draco was in a good mood when she arrived at his home. He greeted her and Tracey with a smile, acting the perfect pureblood host.
Tracey apparently couldn't help herself, and looked around. "Be it ever so humble," the witch said, looking pointedly at the furniture of the room they had followed Draco to.
The chairs and couch looked decent, but Daphne could spot some imperfections that told her they were transfigured. She glared at her snarky friend, and saw that Draco frowned briefly.
The boy quickly smiled again though. "The necessities of war demand much of us. I would prefer to live in lodgings more appropriate for my standing, but that would needlessly endanger my remaining family."
The blunt reminder of what had happened to their parents shut Tracey up. Daphne tried not to let the pain she felt at remembering her own loss show.
"I'm sorry," Draco said. "I did not wish to bring up such painful memories."
He sounded sincere, and he had lost his own parents, so Daphne nodded at him, believing and accepting his apology. "It's why we are here," she answered. "To prevent others from suffering the same fate."
"Exactly!" Draco smiled again. "And we dealt the blood traitors a heavy blow!"
"The Daily Prophet claims that he survived," Tracey said.
"He is alive… so far. He will succumb to the curse over the next few months, lingering in pain as his body slowly rots. The attempts to help him will only prolong his suffering." Draco grinned widely. "A fitting fate indeed."
Daphne shuddered at the thought, then remembered her dead family. And what would happen to her little sister if the mudbloods had their way. They and their traitorous helpers needed to be taught a lesson they'd never forget. "Good."
"Did you see the curse strike him?" Tracey asked.
"No. The traitor took the basket inside. But we have friends at St Mungo's." Draco shook his head.
Daphne couldn't tell if her friend was relieved or disappointed that Draco's description of the curse's effect was not from first-hand experience. "What do we do now? You mentioned a list of blood traitors."
"I did. But our … ally… has yet to provide me with another cursed object. So, we will have to pick a target we can strike at more easily." Draco smiled. "We can scout out the blood traitors, and prepare in the meantime." He snarled. "There are a few blood traitors I want to personally deal with."
"Potter?" Tracey asked. Everyone knew that Draco considered the Boy-Who-Lived his nemesis. Even if, as a half-blood, he was technically not a blood traitor.
"No." Draco shook his head. "I've been told that to strike at Potter would anger the Dark Lord." His expression clearly showed that he was unhappy about that. "And apparently, someone close to him wants to deal with my former aunt's family herself. But the Weasley family has been a particular thorn in my family's side for years. It is time they pay for that."
London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, October 14th, 1996
Harry Potter managed to avoid falling flat on his face when he exited the fireplace in his godfather's home - in his home, he corrected himself. He still wasn't entirely used to having a home. He landed on his knees, mostly. Progress!
"Harry!" Sirius beamed at him, using his wand to clean the dust and soot off.
Harry stood up and hugged his godfather. "Hello, Sirius."
"Sneaking out of Hogwarts just to visit me? I'm flattered!" Sirius said, laughing, though he didn't sound as if he was entirely joking.
"I didn't exactly sneak out. Dumbledore knows I'm gone for the evening," Harry said. "He's been quite accommodating since Ron and I joined the Order of the Phoenix." Though to be honest, Dumbledore had covered up worse than sneaking out of school in the past.
Sirius wrapped an arm around his shoulder and led him to the living room. "And I'm still not too happy about that. It's too dangerous!"
Harry glared at him. "More dangerous than being Voldemort's prophesied nemesis?" Sirius hadn't opposed Harry being recruited when he had been told.
His godfather nodded sagely. "Hiding that her child joined from Molly… that's more dangerous. Far more dangerous."
Sirius was grinning, but once again, Harry had the impression he was a bit serious as well. And he should stop trying to make those awful puns in his head. "You already know we'll blame Dumbledore," he said.
"And rightly so!" Sirius chuckled.
Once sitting in the living room - which could really do with a telly, Harry thought - and Kreacher having served them some beer, real beer, not Butterbeer, Sirius leaned forward. "So… what made you seek out your old godfather?" At Harry's look, he added: "If I wait until you get around to mentioning it, we'll not have enough time to talk about it."
Harry sighed. But he was a Gryffindor. And he needed advice. And while Sirius wasn't exactly the best source of this kind of advice, he was the only one Harry could trust with this. For a certain definition of trust. Remus was too… well, the man had too many issues with this kind of problem himself, and if he couldn't solve his own problems, how could he help Harry?
Sirius was looking at him, faintly smiling. Patiently waiting, but for that hint of eagerness and concern.
Harry sighed again. "I may have feelings for Hermione."
"Yes." Sirius said, taking a sip from his beer.
"What?"
"Yes, you have. Feelings for her." Sirius grinned. "It was rather obvious last week."
Harry groaned. "Can you be… " he trailed off. He wouldn't give his godfather that kind of opening.
Sirius chuckled. He had spotted Harry's near-lapse. "Of course you have feelings for her. She's a pretty witch and you're a boy. I know how James and I were at your age."
Harry glared at him. "It's not like that!"
Sirius snorted. "I know," he said, then went on with less levity. "She's also your best friend, and you've gone through far more together and far worse than any children should have. Of course such feelings will develop under those circumstances." His eyes seemed to lose their focus. "It happened to Order members too, of course, but we were older."
Harry resisted the urge to ask for whom Sirius had developed such feelings. And he decided not to mention his first crushes. On Cho, for example. Or Fleur. He was past wanting a girl just for her looks.
"So, it's perfectly normal to feel that way about her." Sirius grinned. "Now, are you planning to ask her out?"
"Not exactly." Harry drank from his own beer. "There're some… complications." He cleared his throat and took another sip. "I don't know how she feels about me. If she doesn't like me that way… I don't want things to become awkward between us. Especially not now." Not in the middle of a war, not when Hermione was hunted by the Ministry and the Death Eaters and they could only meet in secret and talk through a mirror. "And," he added, "Ron fancies her."
"Oh." Sirius blinked. "I should have seen that."
Harry waited, pushing his bottle around on the low table.
"Well… there was a girl James and I both had the hots for," Sirius began.
"Mum?"
"Lily?" Sirius shook his head. "No, that was before James fell in love with her. We were crushing hard on Emily Frickerton. Prettiest witch in Hogwarts."
Harry thought his mother had been the prettiest witch at Hogwarts, but didn't comment on that. "What did you do?"
"We settled it like Gryffindors, of course!"
"What did you do?"
"We agreed to both ask her out, and let her choose," Sirius said. "And we did!"
That sounded… well, Harry wasn't certain how Hermione would react, but the open, honest approach should appeal to her. And it would avoid, well, some hard feelings. "How did that end?"
"She laughed at us both and told us she already had a boyfriend, and even if she hadn't, she would be looking for a man, not a boy." Sirius snorted, but he was smiling.
Harry gasped. "She sounds like…"
His godfather shrugged, grinning. "We were second years, and she was in sixth. In hindsight, it was a funny moment."
Harry closed his eyes. Maybe that wasn't such a good plan.
"Well, Hermione doesn't have a boyfriend, unless she acquired one since last week. So, there's that."
Harry grumbled. "Unless Justin or that arrogant berk Allan ask her out again."
"You know them?" Sirius asked.
Harry nodded. "Justin's a Hufflepuff in our year."
"No competition then," Sirius said at once.
"He's rich," Harry said, rolling his eyes. Cedric had been a Hufflepuff as well, and he certainly had been 'competition'.
"Hermione doesn't strike me as the type of witch to look for gold. And as my godson, you're richer anyway. I think." Sirius frowned. "I don't know much about muggle wealth."
"No, you don't," Harry said, earning a pout from his godfather.
"And you don't have a high opinion of Allan, I take it."
"He didn't impress me or Ron when we met him." Harry frowned, remembering that day. "Looked jealous even then."
"That's a good sign," Sirius said. "But your real competition is Ron, isn't he?"
Harry sighed and nodded. "He's my best friend. My other best friend. Best mate. I don't want to hurt him, or Hermione."
"I'd say you should settle things with him first. But if you do, Hermione might feel as if you're trying to decide for her." Sirius emptied his beer. "She's the type to get prickly about that, no matter how groundless it would be."
Harry didn't want to, but he had to agree there. And he wondered just how well his godfather knew Hermione. "So… cursed if I do, cursed if I don't?"
"Yes. Welcome to relationships, Harry!"
London, East End, October 15th, 1996
Hermione Granger looked at the Wireless Ears she had acquired from the twins through Sirius. They were bigger than the muggle surveillance devices she knew about. But they would work even inside warded areas. Like their safe house.
She didn't have to do this. Sirius would be placing more ears in various shops frequented by the kind of purebloods they knew to be supporters of Voldemort. Thanks to them, they would find out about planned appointments. Hear the addresses of those who travelled through the Floo Network. Know about special orders that could be tampered with. The Resistance would soon be able to strike at their real enemies, instead of at the Ministry and traitors among the muggleborns.
She didn't have to use the ears herself. Against her comrades. Her friends. And yet she had to. This attack on a half-blood shop in Diagon Alley was just too convenient. Too close - no, identical - to what Allan had proposed. She had to know if Allan was behind it. And if he was planning more such attacks without the approval and knowledge of the Resistance.
She picked up one of the ears, studying the design. It would change colour to match wherever it was placed, which would make it very hard to spot. Or so Sirius had told her. She thought a disillusionment effect might be more effective. Maybe a Shrinking Charm, to reduce its size. Unless that was already implemented. Though she doubted that. It was more likely that the twins hadn't thought of that. They were very creative, and good with charms and potions, but they were not that skilled at optimising their designs. They were artists more than craftsmen. She had enough to take one apart and study it, hadn't she?
She forced herself to drop the ear on the table. She lacked the time to indulge her curiosity. She had to decide if she was going to spy on Allan. Violate the trust between two members of the Resistance. It was a step she didn't want to take. But if she didn't… she knew the doubts would only grow. She'd become more and more suspicious. She had to know. Even if she already felt guilty for planning this.
Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath. This was just another example of something she didn't like to do, but which was needed. And, if she did it correctly, no one would know, or be hurt.
Other than her conscience.
London, Knockturn Alley, October 15th, 1996
Inside the dinky thrift store half-way down the shady alley, Brenda Brocktuckle leaned on the wall, twirling her wand while her rookie partner spoke to the witch behind the counter. Neither of them was wearing their official red robes, of course. They weren't officially here. Even if they hadn't made a secret of their occupation as soon as they had entered the shop.
"Do you have all the permits you need to sell this kind of merchandise?" Martin Runcorn asked, holding up a slightly-dented broom. "It looks quite unsafe."
"B-but… it's a used broom. I've been selling used things for years," the witch, Jane Mills, a half-blood, stammered.
"You've been flaunting the law for years then," Martin said, scoffing. "Endangering the public. Probably selling stolen goods as well."
"No! I only sell honestly obtained goods!" The witch shook her head, her dirty-blonde hair flying wildly, obscuring her face for a second.
Brenda snorted. In this part of the alley, half the merchandise, or more, was shady at best. The witch glanced at her, and the Auror grinned, showing her teeth.
"I think your shop should be shut down until you comply with the regulations," Martin said.
Mills gasped. Then she closed her eyes, and seemed to gather herself. "Alright… how much do you want to let this slide?" she asked in a resigned voice.
Martin snarled. "Are you trying to bribe us? That's a serious crime!"
The witch flinched. "No… I mean…"
"Don't bloody lie to us!" Brenda's partner yelled. "You just offered a bribe! Probably with stolen gold! That's Azkaban for you!"
Mills paled. Martin was getting good at this, Brenda thought as she pushed off the wall and stepped up to the counter. "Well, we should arrest you. Open and shut case. But…"
"But?" The other witch asked, trembling. She had good reasons to be afraid, Brenda knew. Everyone had heard about the attack on Azkaban. Those prisoners not freed had been kissed when the Dementors ran rampant.
"We might let this slide, if you help us out."
Mills shook her head. "Snitches die in the alley. Slowly. Might as well send me to Azkaban."
She was crying now. Brenda almost felt pity for her. Then she reminded herself where they were. The middle of Knockturn Alley. No decent people would be living here, or doing business here. Mills was scum. But the weak kind of scum. The kind Brenda needed.
"We're not interested in the regular kind of scum here. We want the mudbloods."
Mills stared at her with wide eyes. "They'll kill me! They'll wreck the entire alley!"
"Only if they find out what you did. We won't arrest anyone near you." They wouldn't make that mistake again. "No one will know."
"Of course, if you don't want to help us, we won't help you," Martin added. "And it looks like you want to protect mudbloods..."
"Helping mudblood murderers… that's a capital crime," Brenda whispered. "But helping to catch them… there's a reward for that."
"I don't know any Resistance members! No one in the alley knows them!" Mills almost violently shook her head.
"But you know other mudbloods. Older ones. Those married to half-bloods." Brenda smiled.
"They haven't done anything! They are just hiding!" Mills was still crying. Pathetic.
"Then they shouldn't have anything to fear, right? Like your father." Brenda twirled her wand as if she was a cocky rookie again.
The witch froze, and glanced at the floor for a second. The Auror smiled.
"We don't really care about every mudblood, you understand?"
Mills nodded, shoulders hunched.
"Good. If you see any other mudbloods, I want you to give us the memory. You don't have to do anything else. Just conceal it as a potion."
The broken witch nodded again.
"We'll be in touch."
The two Aurors threw up the hoods of their dark cloaks and left the shop. A few steps into a side alley, they apparated back to the Ministry.
Once in their office, Martin sat down, sighing.
Brenda looked at him. "You did good today. Played it perfectly." Picture-perfect performance as a young, eager and by the book rookie.
"I know, but…" He made a vague gesture with his hand.
"Taking pity on Knockturn Alley scum?" Brenda sat down on her desk and summoned a cup of tea.
"No. But I still think we'd have done better by posing as sympathetic half-blood Aurors warning them of sweeps for mudbloods." Martin frowned.
"That wouldn't have worked. We don't have the authority to do such sweeps. And if we did, some half-blood probably would have leaked it as well. Or even a pureblood." Brenda scoffed. "The Department is riddled with traitors."
"I know. But scaring the scum only works if they are more afraid of us than of the others."
"That's why we add some carrot to the stick. If she can protect her father and get a reward, she's more likely to stick with us." Brenda leaned forward. "And of course, once she delivers the first memory to us, she's ours for good - we can let her name slip anytime we choose, and she'll know that."
"Ah!" Martin grinned.
Brenda smiled. Her partner was getting better, but he still had some things to learn.
London, East End, October 16th, 1996
Hermione read the transcript of the Wireless Ears she had placed near Allan's room.
'Off to see your sweetheart again?'
'Yes. Can't go for too long without, you know.'
'Of course I know. I should get a muggle girlfriend as well. Mary's being difficult and Sally's with Justin.'
'Nothing's stopping you.'
'You're right. You'll have to cover for me on the next supply run then.'
'If you think you can find a bird who wants you in a few hours….'
'Hey!'
'Dean, we're off!'
The witch bit her lower lip. That had to be Allan and Seamus. Both were off to buy muggle goods that evening. And spend some time in London to relax. So, Allan had a girlfriend. A muggle girlfriend. He had moved fast then, after she had turned him down two weeks ago. Unless… no. She shook her head. She wouldn't assume that he had been looking to two-time his muggle girlfriend with her. But to meet a muggle girl, and start a relationship, with everything else they had been doing… Allan had been lucky then. And she had been wrong to suspect him of … burning down shops or vanishing Aurors.
She sighed. It was a bit of a blow to her pride, how fast she had been replaced, but they were fighting a war. She couldn't begrudge Allan that kind of happiness. Even if she might be a bit jealous. Not of Allan's girlfriend. But of him having a relationship.
Not that she had the time to commit to a relationship. Or was the kind of girl to casually sleep with someone. Though sometimes… She shook her head again. She had more parchment to sift through for information about Auror movements, and pureblood intel. This war wouldn't be won if she slacked off.
Hogsmeade, October 16th, 1996
Hogsmeade hadn't seen much trouble so far, Axton Runcorn knew. Close to Hogwarts, with the Headmaster - Dumbledore, he reminded himself, he was no student any more - so close, you'd have to be a very ballsy wizard to try anything in it. But that didn't mean that the town was safe, of course. Patrols like the one he and his partner were on were still needed.
But it was safer than Diagon Alley or - he shuddered at the thought - Knockturn Alley. The houses were not quite as closely built together, the streets not as narrow and dark. And the residents were honest people, not scum. With the possible exception of those who frequented the Hog's Head Inn. Shady people, straight out of the lessons from Auror training. No patrol he knew spent long in there. Just long enough to let them know the Aurors were keeping an eye on them.
"Nelly?" he asked when he passed Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop, closed at this time of the evening, and noticed his partner wasn't following him any more.
The witch scowled. "My name's Nellwyn, not Nelly."
He snorted. "Nellwyn Selwyn? That sounds far worse than 'Nelly'." Her parents had to be on some potion when they had named her, he thought. "Anyway, what's the hold up?"
"I thought I heard something." She hadn't moved from the mouth of the side alley she was staring into yet.
"Of course you've heard something. Probably a rat." Unlike muggle restaurants, there was no edible rubbish attracting the rodents, and wards kept them out, but the rats would still smell the baked goods inside.
"Didn't sound like a rat," Nelly said. "Lumos!"
The tip of her wand lit up, and Axton cursed and closed his eyes. There went his night vision! Hadn't Nelly learned that lesson in training?
He blinked when he opened his eyes again. "Nelly, damn it…"
She was on the ground, stunned or…
A red flash hit him before he could react.
Hogwarts, October 17th, 1996
Ron Weasley dropped to the ground when Harry cast, and the Stunning Spell passed over his head with a foot to spare. He rolled to the side, sending a pair of Slug-vomiting Charms at Harry, then followed it up with a Stunning Spell of his own. It splashed harmlessly against Harry's Shield Charm, and Ron had to roll to the side once more, to escape his best mate's retaliation. A Jelly-Legs Curse hit him, but he didn't need his legs to cast. His Bludgeoning Curse dealt with Harry's shield, and his next Stunning Spell would… be dodged by Harry at the last second. Ron dispelled the jinx on his legs, but Harry used the opportunity to hit him with a Disarming Charm.
"Good match," Harry said, handing him his wand back.
"Yeah," Ron said, standing up and dusting himself off.
"Why didn't you cast a Shield Charm?" Neville asked, from where he was nursing a hand that had been stung a bit too often by Lavender in their bout.
"I wanted to practice dodging. A Shield Charm won't do a thing against an Unforgivable." Ron met the other boy's eyes until Neville looked away.
Ron walked over to the basket with the refreshments the house-elves had prepared for the Gryffindor self-defence lesson and grabbed a Butterbeer for himself. He took a sip while Harry was showing Ginny how to improve her Disarming Charm.
"Neville's still not coming round, is he?"
Ron glanced to his side. Lavender was filling a cup with tea. He shook his head. "No, he isn't."
"He's been asking his gran, you know," Lavender said in a low voice.
"Oh?" Ron remembered that comment from Harry.
"And his gran apparently told him that his parents would still be fine if they hadn't joined Dumbledore." The witch sighed. "I heard it from Fay."
"Great," Ron spat. "And she still thinks the Ministry's going to beat Voldemort?"
Lavender shrugged. "I didn't talk to him."
Ron scoffed. "Well, I'm not going to talk to him either. I've better things to do."
Lavender nodded. "Like training?"
"Yes."
"All work and no play…" Lavender grinned, then patted his hand. "It doesn't suit you, you know."
"I wish I didn't have to," Ron answered. "But things being as they are, we better be ready. For anything."
Lavender frowned, then sighed. "I guess so."
Ron nodded at her, then rejoined Harry for another match.
London, Ministry of Magic, October 17th, 1996
Brenda Brocktuckle knew something was wrong when she saw Martin's face upon entering their office. So she swallowed her cheerful greeting, put down the box of cauldron cakes she had bought on the way in Diagon Alley, and sat down behind her desk. "Are you having second thoughts about the half-blood?" If he was, she might need to teach him the ropes for a bit longer than expected. There were things Aurors had to do to do their duty that were not mentioned in training manuals, but were understood in the Corps.
Martin looked surprised, then shook his head. "No, no." He took a deep breath. "My cousin, Axton, and his partner didn't return from a patrol in Hogsmeade last night."
Brenda hissed. "He wasn't the kind to desert, was he?"
"Of course not. Eager to serve, even - though he was glad to get the Hogsmeade shift, instead of Knockturn Alley." Martin sighed.
The Auror pursed her lips. That didn't sound good. "Who's on the case?" So far it had been treated as an internal affair, but now that would have to change.
"Parkinson." Martin all but spat the name out.
Brenda closed her eyes. "He's a good Auror."
"But he's a git too," Martin said. "He'll expect me to owe him one for sharing news."
Brenda nodded. Parkinson was a mover and shaker. "We could try to get the case. If this was the work of the mudbloods."
"Well, it could be," Martin ventured. "Even mudbloods would be familiar with the village from the Hogsmeade weekends at Hogwarts." Unlike other wizard settlements, he meant.
"Parkinson will claim otherwise, though. He likes having a case like that." Brenda stood up and paced. "And Dawlish won't want more work added to his case." That Auror hadn't made any progress as far as she knew. Or maybe he hadn't wanted to make any progress in hunting down the escaped Death Eaters.
"It wasn't the work of Death Eaters," Martin said. "Axton and his partner were the right sort."
"Ah." Brenda nodded. Purebloods who, if not supported, then at least didn't mind the blood purists. They were rather common, with the way the wind was blowing from the Wizengamot. "We still can say we have some inkling of a connection with our case. Just so we can look at the files and evidence." Martin perked up, but she continued. "It'll mean he'll have access to our files though."
Which meant they'd have to either sort through their files to remove the more delicate parts, or the intel would be spreading, and someone might leak it to the mudbloods.
Martin knew that as well, and cursed under his breath. "Is there nothing we can do?"
Brenda grinned. "Well… I think we have to look into the possible infiltration of Hogsmeade by the mudbloods. And we'll have to ask a lot of questions."
"They'll buy that?"
Brenda shrugged, leaning against her desk. "Parkinson might grumble, but what can he do? We investigate our own leads, like he's doing." And it would annoy the git. A fine revenge for his comments after the 'Beckett blunder', as he had called it.
London, Diagon Alley, October 17th, 1996
Daphne Greengrass hated Polyjuice. She had taken almost an hour just to learn how to walk without stumbling in her new body, to the amusement of her traitorous friend Tracey, who had managed the same feat in a few minutes. Daphne blamed the samples Draco had provided - hers was from a rather 'top-heavy' young woman, quite different from her own body. She was rather lithe, if she did say so herself. Tracey's new body was closer to her real one, if also curvier.
But now, with another dose in their bellies, both girls were walking through Diagon Alley. They saw their destination from far away - the garish, ugly giant floating 'WWW' sign couldn't be missed.
"Smile, dear," Tracey said in a low voice. "We're two witches out shopping. You're not here to burn holes into people with your glare."
Daphne scoffed, but put a fake smile on her face. "I wish I could do that. It would make things easier."
The shop's entrance was surrounded by lights flashing in different colours. "Where did they get the gold for the shop anyway?" Tracey asked in a whisper as they approached. "Everyone knows the Weasleys are dirt poor."
"According to my uncle," Daphne said, "Sirius Black is a silent partner in the business. Threw his weight around to smooth their applications for permits as well."
"Blood traitor," Tracey hissed. "He didn't even show up to his cousin's funeral."
Daphne felt the wards when she passed through the entrance. Starting trouble would be a very bad idea. Those wards had to have cost a small fortune, if they were that strong. How much gold had Black spent on these two?
"Watch out!"
Tracey's warning came too late. Daphne was hit in the face by something soft, and shrieked.
"Sorry!" came the shout from one of the Weasley twins. "That was a Pouncing Poultry." He summoned a rubber chicken that struggled in the grasp of the spell. "Very popular item if you have an annoying little sibling. Release it in their bedroom, and watch the mayhem. The deluxe version comes with a camera built in, cushioned against impact of course!"
Tracey giggled, and Daphne glared, then forced herself to smile. At least her new cleavage easily distracted the blood traitor, and her scowl could be blamed on her face having been hit.
"I've a very annoying neighbour, very nosy, and I want to teach her a lesson about minding her own business. What products would you recommend?" Tracey asked, leaning forward in that familiar way that had the Slytherin wizards at Hogwarts adjusting their robes in short order. Daphne didn't want to, but followed her friend's example, putting her hand on the wizard's arm, and letting him get a good look down the front of her robes when she stepped closer.
Dazzled, the stupid twin was easily taken advantage of, showing them around the whole shop while distracted by their borrowed bodies. Daphne even caught a few glimpses of the workshop in the back when the other twin came out to see who his brother was flirting with.
The two girls left the shop with a bag full of joke items, paid for with Draco's gold, and detailed knowledge about the shop's layout and defences - which, sadly, were very strong.
Dorset, Britain, October 17th, 1996
"... and the wards of the shop are very strong. Strongest I've seen, outside those on old manors," Daphne said. She wasn't a Warder, or a Curse-Breaker, but she was familiar with the wards on her home. She didn't mention that the wards were stronger than the ones of Draco's new home, to which she and Tracey had travelled to report. That would have been gauche - their friend already knew that.
"Sirius Black must have paid a small fortune to protect his investment," Tracey added.
Draco frowned. "Wasting my gold on blood traitors!"
"At least it's a sound investment," Tracey pointed out. "Business must be good judging by what we saw during our visit."
Daphne scoffed. "Joke items for a joke family." She had disposed of the items on the way back. To think that she had supported those blood traitors with gold, even for spying on them… It made her sick, knowing that this sham of a family prospered while so many proper families had been decimated.
That made Draco chuckle. Not for long though. "So, you'd say an attack would be unlikely to succeed."
"Yes." Daphne nodded. "The Aurors would be upon us before we took down the wards, and even torching the shops next to it would probably not be enough to affect them."
Draco mumbled something about Aurors that Daphne didn't catch, then leaned back in his seat. He folded his hands over his stomach, as if he was calm, but she saw his foot twitch.
"On the other hand, the two Weasleys were quite easily fooled by our disguises," Tracey said. "That might be their weakness." She grinned. "Typical young wizards."
"Who exactly were we impersonating, Draco?" Daphne asked. "We might have to reuse those disguises, should we want to exploit this, and it wouldn't do if someone who knows them saw us." Draco had assured them that was impossible, but you never knew.
"The hairs were taken from two French witches," Draco said.
"French witches?" Daphne wondered for a moment if Draco had contacts at Beauxbatons.
"French Courtesans, more likely," Tracey said, giggling. She stopped giggling though when Draco cleared his throat. "Seriously? We've been impersonating…" She shook her head.
"Whores," Daphne said, glaring at Draco. "You made us look like whores!" How dare he do that to them!
Draco flinched. "It was the easiest and safest way to acquire hairs for disguises."
"I bet you found it funny too!" Tracey spat.
The wizard shook his head. "I assure you, I chose them for ease of availability and security, nothing more. The chance of a Weasley being able to afford a French Courtesan is nil, after all." He winced when Daphne glared at him, and added: "And even if someone recognised you, he wouldn't be too surprised if those kinds of witches acted as if they didn't know him, or used fake names in Britain."
"You seem to know a lot about whores," Daphne said.
"I bet you collected the hairs yourself!" Tracey exclaimed.
Draco blushed slightly, which was answer enough.
"So, you turned us into witches you had sex with!" Daphne's friend shook her head. "That is… perverted!"
"It wasn't like that!" Draco protested. "It was the safest option! I'm very sorry for not informing you, but let's focus on the blood traitors. There are far more important things to worry about than this… misunderstanding."
Daphne scowled. If Draco thought he would ever get anywhere with her, he was sorely mistaken. But she listened while he started to plan the next step of their operation.
Hogsmeade, October 18th, 1996
The Hog's Head Inn hadn't changed since Brenda Brocktuckle had visited it last. It was still a filthy dive catering to scum, run by the black sheep - or should that be 'black goat'? - of the Dumbledore family. The Auror had hated to visit it back when she had been patrolling the village as a fresh Auror, and she wasn't keen on repeating the experience. But the two missing Aurors had last been seen inside that pub.
Conversation inside the pub stopped as soon as Brenda and Martin entered. Everyone seemed to glare at them, some with such hatred that the Auror had to fight the urge to cast a Shield Charm. Scum indeed, kept at bay by their fear of the retribution the DMLE would visit upon them, should they attack Aurors.
Of course, when she met their eyes, the scum looked away. Martin was already halfway to the bar, though. Obviously, this was too personal for him to keep a cool head. She followed him as fast as she could without looking like she had to hurry.
"Good evening, Aurors," Dumbledore's brother said, in a tone that made it clear that he didn't mean it at all.
Martin nodded at him, then glanced at her. It seemed her partner was not so worked up that he wanted to take the lead here.
That was fine by her. "Good evening, Mister Dumbledore." She leaned against the bar, but tried to keep an eye on the rest of the room. Martin might not be as observant as he usually was. "Last night, two Aurors came by."
"As every night," Dumbledore said. The old wizard was even polishing glasses with his wand while talking to her, as if he was a character in a cliched novel.
"They disappeared shortly after leaving here," Brenda said. "You're the last ones to have seen them."
"Really? They disappeared?" The owner of the pub shook his head. "I didn't notice anything suspicious when they left here."
She hadn't even asked him a question yet, and he was already stalling her. "Did any of your guests pay special attention to them?"
The old man shrugged. "I wouldn't know. I respect the privacy of my guests. They come here to enjoy a pint or two in peace, not to be spied on."
"And they certainly don't have anything to hide," Brenda said in the most sarcastic tone she could manage.
"Exactly." The man's smile was just this side of patronising.
Brenda controlled herself though. "We suspect that muggleborns are behind this disappearance. Did you see any around?"
"How would I be able to tell a muggleborn from a pureblood? It's not as if there's a difference." The old wizard shrugged. Before she could say anything, he went on, with an insolent grin: "Nor do I care about people's parents. I'm breeding goats, not purebloods, you know."
Martin hissed next to her, but her partner managed to control himself. Brenda let the implied insult wash over her. She stared at the man. "How many guests do you think will keep visiting if we start to pay close attention to them?"
To her annoyance, he snorted. "See, that's the kind of threat and petty bullying that makes Aurors so popular among the people." Dumbledore's brother shook his head. "Maybe if you acted less like thugs, and more like Aurors should act, people would see and remember more when you ask for help."
Brenda hissed through clenched teeth: "If you're protecting the muggleborns doing this, then that will end badly for you. Very badly."
"Is this another threat? Are trying to tell me that you'll try to frame me for a crime if I don't act as your snitch?" The old wizard stopped smiling, and Brenda found herself fighting the urge to take a step back when he glared at her.
"Do you think your brother will protect you?" She knew the two Dumbledore brothers were not on speaking terms.
He scoffed. "Do you think I need his protection? Girl, I may not be my brother, but I fought Grindelwald, and lived." He glared at her, and Brenda shuddered, taking a step back from the sheer amount of hatred he displayed. "And I'm rather sick of this blood purity hogwash. Now get out of here! This inn is no place for Death Eaters, whether they wear black or red robes!"
That insult made Brenda angry enough to stand up to the old wizard. "Are you calling me a Death Eater?"
"That's the wrong question, girl. The question you should ask is: What difference is there between an Auror and a Death Eater for a muggleborn?" The old wizard had stopped polishing glasses with his wand, but hadn't put it away. A fact of which Brenda was very aware. And she noticed that the room had fallen silent once again. She didn't need to glance around to know that there were more wands ready.
Lifting her chin, she turned around and headed to the door. This visit hadn't gone as she had hoped.
London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, October 18th, 1996
"Welcome to my humble abode. How's my favourite muggleborn mistress doing?"
Hermione Granger rolled her eyes at Sirius's greeting. She was once more wearing a wig and a robe as a disguise, in case he had surprise visitors. A robe that might be a bit too revealing for her taste. No wonder, since Sirius had bought it. "I'm doing fine."
Sirius raised an eyebrow. "You sound like Harry. So, what problem ails you?"
"That I'm one of the Ministry's and Voldemort's most wanted?"
The wizard waved that away with a snort. "That's been the case for months now."
"It's personal." Hermione said, pursing her lips.
"Oh." Sirius managed to insinuate all sorts of lurid and lewd meanings with his tone. And her glare didn't impress him at all. "I've prepared the first transcripts from the ears I placed," he went on, grinning. In a small box - expanded on the inside - a few dozen scrolls waited for her.
"Did you read them?"
The wizard nodded. "I did. A few Floo addresses - though they will likely be blocked for visitors - and some gossip by Aurors. Looks like another patrol went missing."
"Another patrol? When was that?" Hermione had a sinking feeling in her stomach.
"Let me get the scroll…" Sirius rummaged inside the box, then pulled out a few scrolls and sifted through them.
Hermione made a mental note to catalogue the scrolls better. And to consider who she trusted enough to screen the transcripts - she couldn't spend too much time reading them all, but if they missed some crucial piece of information in the glut of transcripts that could be a catastrophe.
"Here!" Sirius handed her a scroll.
It was a transcript of two Aurors chatting about a patrol which had gone missing in Hogsmeade. During the time Allan had been visiting his girlfriend.
She must have not schooled her features enough, since Sirius asked: "I take it you consider this a bad thing."
She nodded. There was no point in lying about that. Not to him. "I suspect that one of the Resistance members is waging his own war, in secret. Or maybe more than one member."
"And that is a bad thing?" Harry's godfather sounded honestly puzzled.
"It is, when things happen that we decided shouldn't be done because the possible consequences are too dangerous." Hermione put the scroll down. "Like torching half-bloods' shops and framing the Death Eaters."
Sirius nodded. "I see."
"And if he's vanishing Aurors, then that means the Ministry thugs will be more careful, which makes our plan to interrogate a few of them without anyone knowing much harder, if not impossible." Hermione scowled. "Short-sighted foolishness like that can cost us a lot."
"Maybe they are interrogating them in secret?" Sirius offered.
"That's even worse. How can we trust them if they do not share such information? That's no way to wage war." Hermione sat down, sighing.
"Well, they might want to keep it secret for security reasons."
Hermione scoffed. "We're one cell. We're not big enough to split up." She shook her head. "No. This is something else. Something more."
"Are you certain this is not you taking offence at someone not following your lead?" Sirius asked in a rather careful tone, as far as Hermione could tell.
She narrowed her eyes. Was she like that? Offended that others were not following her plans? Disobeying her? Maybe a little. But she knew she was right about the risks. And the majority of the group had agreed with her. "You can't fight a war without coordination. And you can't trust your friends if they keep such secrets from you."
Sirius winced, and Hermione wondered for a moment what he was thinking, before realising that he had to remember distrusting Remus Lupin, and hiding that they had switched the secret keeper from the werewolf. She didn't say anything about it, though, and busied herself with the next scroll.
"So… " Sirius trailed off.
"I have to find out if and why such things are being hidden from me and the others." Hermione also wanted to know, but dreaded to find out, how many knew about this. The possibility of having been used, fooled, by the Resistance…
The wizard nodded. "More ears?"
She nodded. "More ears." She hated it, but she had to know. She couldn't fight a war without trust - theirs and hers. Sighing, she added: "I don't know why they'd hide one of them having a girlfriend from me. Unless they think I'd act jealous even after turning Allan down." And Allan couldn't be that stupid, could he? Seamus… well, he and Dean had some rather peculiar notions about witches.
"The first thing that comes to mind is that they think you'll not approve of the girl."
She shook her head. "Why wouldn't I? It's not as if a pureblood would be able to find a muggle girl and then through her, Allan. Unless… it's not a muggle girl." But would they expect her to want to meet the girl? Certainly, they couldn't think she would want to control their love lives… not all of them. She wasn't that bad, was she?
Sirius frowned. "If he is in a relationship with a witch, then that's a risk."
"I need a way to track him." She couldn't really interrogate Allan with Veritaserum. That would be… it would be worse than spying on him. Even if not that much worse. "That'll be difficult. Especially since we're planning to track the purebloods through the shops."
"If he's as arrogant as I've heard, then he might not suspect that anyone would track him, least of all you," Sirius said.
She wrinkled her forehead. "You've heard he is arrogant?" She hadn't talked about Allan to Sirius, not describing him like that, and who else… She groaned. "Harry?"
Sirius winced.
"What did I miss?" Were even her best friends keeping things from her? Sirius's reaction let her fear the worst. But… Harry and Ron were different. They wouldn't hurt her. Not intentionally, at least.
"I can't tell you that. You'll have to ask Harry." Sirius grimaced.
She huffed. "Oh, believe me, I will!"
