Sorry it's a day late. Paddy's Day and all that. I regret nothing.

12. A Scandal in Bulgaria

It didn't take long to get all of their things together. Hannes and the other Elves just sort popped away and then reappeared with all of their things in tow. Not that it was very much. Just three rucksacks containing all of their personal belongings.

"We'll need to hurry," Malcolm said to them as they all took up their bags and slung them over their shoulders. "I've got the portkey ready. We'll be dropping into the middle of Sofia's magical market district. Tiberius and Fergus are already there. From what they've told me, there's fighting in the streets already. We have to move quickly."

Without further ado he exited the Tower, briefly nodding to Grindelwald, who nodded back.

Regulus and Barty darted after Malcolm and Harry made to follow but felt a hand on his arm, pulling him back. "Hold a moment, Harry," Grindelwald said.

Harry turned back to face his latest mentor, curiosity flaring up in him.

"I fear that it may be some time before you and I ever see each other again," the old wizard started. "As such, I feel I must say a few things. Over these past few years you have given me something that I have not had in a long time. Hope. Hope for the future generations that shall inherit this world from us old folk. You have helped me complete my work, to achieve the first step of my dream of a world united by magic. Thank you."

Harry smiled at the elder wizard. "I couldn't let such a good cause go to waste. Thank you, for all that you have taught me."

Grindelwald nodded and reached into his pocket. "Before you go, one last thing. This," he held up a ring with a dark stone set into it, "was left in my care years ago, after your arrest, by Regulus. I think it is only fitting that you have it now." He held it out to Harry, who took it in his hand.

"What is it?" Harry asked, feeling a strange sort of power from the stone on the simple silver band.

Grindelwald smiled. "It is the Resurrection Stone. The Hallow of the Second Brother, Cadmus Peverell. With this Stone, one can call forth the spirits of the dead, for a time."

Harry turned the ring in his hand and nodded, noticing the similar feel of the Stone to the Elder Wand. He could also feel a small thrum through both of them, as though they were resonating with each other. He smiled and slipped the ring onto the ring finger of his right hand. "Thank you."

With this, he could bring back to the land of the living any soul that had departed from this world. He could speak to Dumbledore again, to get his advise and just to speak to him again. He missed the simple wisdom and calming presence of his old friend and mentor. What was more, he could see Jimmy again, and apologize for what happened to him...he felt a pang of guilt and sorrow in his heart. He missed his little brother dearly.

Grindelwald seemed to read Harry's thoughts. "Be wary though, my friend. Many a wizard has been driven mad by the power of the Stone. Cadmus himself took his own life because of it. Only use it in times of great need."

Harry sighed, thinking of Jimmy. He knew the danger of such things. As Grindelwald said, the Second Brother had taken his own life after his grief over his lost love drove him to madness. For though the Resurrection Stone could bring the soul back, it could not give it physical form and the soul suffered after a time, not being meant for this world any longer. Most believed that this was Death's punishment for those who defied the nature of the Universe. Life and Death were sacred and to bring the dead back to life was a perversion of that natural order in the same way that a Horcrux was.

Attempts had been made to fully revive the dead throughout history, but no good ever came of it. Death was not in the habit of letting go of what was his to watch over. Whether it was possessiveness or protectiveness, was something that none but Death could know.

He finally nodded to Grindelwald, who gave him a sympathetic smile. "I know the temptation is there, and I am not telling you to not use the Stone. What would be the point of having such a tool if one did not use it? No, by all means use it. I have. Just, do not get lost in it, Harry."

Harry nodded again and held out his hand to Grindelwald, who took it firmly. "We'll meet again, Gellert," Harry said. "Never doubt that. In this world, or the next."

Gellert smirked. "In this world or the next."

Harry left the Tower to find the others waiting for him, a length of rope held between them. "Well, at least it isn't a dog toy this time," Harry quipped as he reached them.

Barty barked out a laugh and Regulus shook his head with amusement. Malcolm just rolled his eyes and motioned for Harry to take hold of the Portkey, which he did. Malcolm whispered something under his breath and Harry felt himself lifted off the ground, the world around him spinning too fast for him to see anything beyond blurred colors. It started off a sort of grey and then lightened as they took to the skies and then a few moments later it darkened into browns and reds.

Harry grunted as they came to a landing. He managed to stay standing, unlike the last few times he had used such means of transportation. He looked around at the others and noticed that no one had fallen this time.

Then he took in their surroundings.

They were in an alleyway, red brick on made up the buildings on either side of them. One end of the Alley was blocked off by a tall wooden structure, like a barricade made of furniture and other random items. The other end opened up into a wide lane, where Harry could see shop fronts and people rushing about in all directions. When he saw several men and women levitating tables and bookshelves into another alley across from them, he knew that the hustle and bustle wasn't because of a sale or any other shopping-based craze.

This was preparation for battle.

Harry felt a tingle of magic and looked up, seeing a ward close in over the area, followed by another a couple of second after.

"Anti-Apparation and Anti-Portkey wards," Malcolm noted. "We arrived just in time. Come on," he started running toward the exit of the alley. "we need to get to the Sleeping Giant."

Harry and the others plunged out into the main street and ran behind Malcolm, who was darting between people, who barely paid any of them any mind. The only attention they got was when a woman and child fell in front of Barty and he paused just long enough to haul the child out of the way of a passing cart, the woman having been able to get out of the way herself, at the same time, Harry dragged a young woman, who had been coming from the opposite direction, out of the way by her arm. He glanced to make sure she was fine before moving on without a thought. Barty ruffled the boys hair and said something to him before rushing to catch up with them, leaving the woman looking after them shouting her thanks, a little boy who was looking both scared and relieved and a young woman who looked somewhat flustered.

"This place is in chaos," Barty shouted over the din.

Harry scoffed. "They're Ministry just declared war on its own citizens, what did you expect? Flowers in the streets to greet the invading army?"

"Why not? It worked for the Germans in Poland, Ukraine and Lithuania," Barty pointed out. "Then again, that was a whole other situation. Point taken. Still, you'd think some of the populace would be happy about the Ministry forces attacking the rebels."

Malcolm called back at them. "There are. They're on the other side of these barricades. Now, hurry up, we're almost there." He pointed to a building a few blocks away with a large sign bearing an image like a cyclops that laying against a mountain, sleeping, or possibly dead.

Harry wasn't familiar with Bulgarian as a language, but its alphabet, the Cyrillic Script, was known to him. He could read it but not understand it. Ϲпален Исполини Кръчма – Spalen Ispolini Krachma. Whether that meant Sleeping Giant, or something or other was anyone's guess. He just went with what Malcolm said. For all he knew it could mean the Prancing Pony or Dead Cyclops or something – if the picture on the sign was anything to go by, he was banking on the latter of those two being more likely.

They reached the building easily enough and went inside, Malcolm ushering them in as he stood by the door. Once they were all in, he closed the door and locked it behind him, effectively shutting them off from the chaos outside.

Harry's eyes adjusted quickly thanks to the small enhancements made to his senses by the scratch he had received from Lupin in werewolf form back when he was undercover as a professor at Hogwarts. He still had the scars from that fight along his ribs, though they were long-healed and faded somewhat.

He had many scars littering his body, all of them received in some violent manner. Even the Rune on his chest had been carved there, by his own hand no less.

He could see a small group of people standing and sitting around a table at the back of the room. He could see the large form of Tiberius, and hear his powerful voice.

"I am tellin' you that we cannot defend this place for longer than a day at best," the big man was saying to a man with long graying black hair and a long goatee. Harry recognized him instantly as Igor Karkaroff, former Death Eater and now leader of the Sons of Independence.

"Where would you have us go then?" Karkaroff growled back. "Would you have us cower in the sewers like rats or hide in the hills like savages?"

"It's better than staying here and gettin' killed like a dog in the street or pig in a trap," Tiberius said back.

"Gentlemen," a smooth Irish voice cut through the room, "I do believe we have guests. Please try to appear respectable, if only for a moment."

The others turned at Fergus' words and saw Malcolm and the others heading their way.

"Ah, Malcolm! Harry! Barty! Regulus! So good o' you all to join us. Here have a drink," Tiberius called out, coming from around the table and moving to the bar to pour whiskey into four glasses.

He handed them out to each of them.

"There now, drink up, it's on the house," he said, moving back to the table where the others were waiting. Harry and the others downed their drinks and set the empty glasses on the bar before following after the big man.

Harry met Karkaroff's eye as he walked. The man was studying him carefully, stroking his beard as he did so.

"Igor, long time no see!" Barty said, cutting through the tension that Harry hadn't realized was there. "How have you been, mate?"

Igor smiled at Barty and pulled him in for a hug. "It has indeed been a long time, my friend. I feared the worst when they said you were dead. I was glad to hear that this was not so."

Barty laughed and shrugged. "Well, what can I say? Can't nobody kill me but me!"

Igor laughed heartily. "We shall see about that, my friend. We are at war again, now. Anything could happen." Barty waved that off with a scoff while Igor turned to Harry. "Hello, young Harry," he greeted, holding out a hand.

Harry nodded and shook his hand firmly. "It is good to see that some of the Old Guard made it through the war," he said. "I hear it was quite a bloodbath there at the end. A lot of Death Eaters died that day."

Karkaroff grinned. "Yes, so I heard. I wasn't there, I wouldn't know. But, I hear you did many terrible things while I was gone. Bellatrix, Selwyn, Gibbon, MacNair, Nott, Rookwood, Shunpike, Yaxley, Mulciber, Dolohov, Avery, Narcissa, the Carrows, Rabastan, Rodolphus, Greyback, Severus and the Dark Lord himself. You killed them, did you not?" Harry nodded, not ashamed of what he had done. Karkaroff smiled again. "It is a pity that many escaped your wrath. Jugson, Rowle, Lucius and Draco, Travers, Crabbe, Goyle, Parkinson, they are in Azkaban...and the rat, Pettigrew still roams free."

Harry nodded. "I'll take care of them as soon as I am able. Pettigrew will die, and the others, will either join us or join him, or die."

Karkaroff clapped Harry on the shoulder. "It is good to fight alongside the God of Death once more. Come, let us rejoin the others. We have much planning to do."

"The Alley is indefensible," Tiberius said as they all gathered back around the table, where Harry could see several maps of the area laid out. "On top of that, there are too many civilians runnin' about an' we can' spare the time or manpower to protect them. We need to evacuate all non-combatants at once." He turned to a man next to him that Harry didn't recognize. He was tall and thin with long brown hair with a single stripe of red down one side. He had distinctly wolfish look to him, and was dressed in dark plaid trousers and a leather coat with a red band around one arm. He noticed that Igor and a tall muscular young man whom Harry assumed to be Krum, were also wearing one of these, but theirs bore the image of a golden lion, the same found on the National Coat of Arms of Bulgaria. It must have been to mark them as members of the rebellion. "Scabior, I want you out there coordinating an evacuation. If you see any Ministry forces, run back here and let us know. Get as many out as you can."

The man, Scabior, nodded his head. "I'll get on that right now. Where should I send them?" He had an accent similar to Tiberius', London, possibly Cockney.

Krum spoke up. "There is a Vila here on the other side of Vitosha," he said, pointing to a spot on the map. "My father maintained it. It has much land and many rooms. Ve can send them there."

Scabior wrote down the coordinates and stuffed the paper into his pocket. He was out the door before anyone had the chance to say anything. A flick of a wand from Krum saw the door locked again.

"Now," Malcolm spoke up. "Is there anywhere where we can set up a base of operations for ourselves outside the city? We cannot stay here. That much alone is clear. We cannot put the people in danger by going where they are either."

"Ve cannot leave them undefended either," Krum said. "The Vila is set against the mountain. It is old and fortified. It has walls and gates. It vas built by Rimlyanite."

Malcolm looked to Karkaroff for translation.

"The Romans," Igor provided. "The villa was built by the Romans in the second century BCE."

"A Roman Villa," Malcolm mused. He looked at Tiberius and Fergus. "What do you think?"

Tiberius crossed his arms, one hand coming up to stroke his beard. "It could work, I think," he said. "With any luck, we can fortify it for long-term use. If not, it will at least serve as a temporary location while we search for something better."

"With any luck," Harry cut in, "our enemies will never find the place to begin with." He had stayed in London, right under the Ministry's nose for months during the last war, and before that he was at Malfoy Manor, which was raided by the Ministry several times over the course of the years he had been there. The secret was hiding right where they least expected you. Right in front of them. "When in a war like this, we must keep in the offensive as much as possible, so that the enemy has to focus on keeping us out, not the other way around."

"The man makes a point," Barty said, stretching his arms over his head with a sigh. "That's how we did things as Death Eaters. We were the aggressors, we were Hannibal at the gates. The Ministry couldn't focus on finding us when they were too busy trying to clean up after us and scramble their forces to fight our gorilla tactics. It was a literal blitzkrieg We didn't just power through our enemy, we struck hard and fast and then vanished without a trace, and never hit the same place twice in a row. Left the Ministry in chaos for days or even weeks after each attack. Think of it like the Colonial Militias during the American War for Independence. The Regulars were helpless against them because they didn't fight like regular soldiers. Like we did to those Raiders in Romania a few years ago."

Regulus nodded. "Such a tactic could work here. The Aurors are trained to fight in a very organized manner here from what I understand," he said. "If we use hit-and-run and other blitz attacks against them, we can reduce their efficiency severely. Ambush them where we can, and draw them into the killing field whenever possible. Avoid facing them in open battle for the most part. It seems cowardly, but it is effective. Fergus, this is more your style of engagement, any suggestions?"

Fergus nodded. "First things first, when we get ready to fight, no wards that prevent apparation are to be in place. There is a tactic we Irish wizards liked to use. It dates back to the Roman Era as well. While they never actually tried to conquer the Island they did land there a few times. Anyway, the tactic is one we call Lonnbéimnech. It means 'Fierce Striker' or 'Lightning-flash', depending on who you ask. It is taken from a name for the god Lugh, who is sometimes portrayed a trickster. Essentially, what you do is apparate among a group of enemies, strike, apparate to another spot, strike, and repeat like that until all of the enemy are dead or they flee. It can be tiring and it takes quick thought and reflexes. A skilled group of fighters using this style can level an army if they have the stamina to do so. If we remove that ward, I can use this tactic to confuse and disrupt the enemy while you all pick them off from a distance. In a situation like that, where it is just one man down with the enemy, I will apparate around them, not among them, to avoid getting hit by friendly spellfire." He looked over the map. "Another name for it is Liús Scáth, the Pike Shadow, named after a particularly aggressive fish that ambushes its prey. It's even been known to eat birds and other pike. They are quite vicious when they want to be."

Barty rolled his eyes. "Well, thanks for the history lesson, but is something like that going to work here?"

Fergus looked at Barty blandly. "Well, if you'd give me a moment, and shut the hell up, I was getting to that part." Barty raised a brow at the man and then shrugged with a 'get on with it' expression. Fergus frowned and sighed. "Now, as I was saying, here in this little stretch of street we've been given to work with, we have a decent set-up for an ambush. We can line our fighters up on the rooftops here," he tapped a small stretch of map, "and here. I, and a few others will hit them from street level. After the first attack, I'll begin the Lighting Flash, and those others on the ground will join the others above. From there, it is just a matter of laying down fire upon them until they are all dead or they run away. However, after this battle, we won't be able to get away with such a tactic again in this area. They'll expect it and work out ways to counter it. That is why, once the attack is done, I suggest we all regroup at this villa Viktor told us about."

Tiberius and Malcolm shared a look and nodded. "Everyone in favor?"

Harry raised his hand. It was a good plan. He liked the way this man, Fergus, thought. Regulus raised his hand as well, then Igor and Krum followed suit. Harry and the others all looked at Barty, who had his arms crossed and was looking at the ceiling. He felt the eyes on him and looked around at them. "What?"

"Yea or nay on Fergus' plan," Harry said, giving him a look that said 'I know you were listening, quit being an arse'.

Barty scowled and groaned but raised his hand too. "Yay, er, yea."

"We're all in agreement then," Malcolm said. "Fergus, find Scabior and the others, get them into position. I want every group to have a portkey, in case this goes south. If I signal a retreat, I want everyone to get out posthaste."

"Vhat's the signal?" Krum asked.

"Red sparks is a retreat. Green sparks means attack. White sparks means hold-fire. Blue means you need assistance. Everyone got that?" Malcolm waited for them all to nod before he leaned back from the table. "Now, Barty, Harry, I want you to go with Viktor. He has a few items for you two. After that, meet us outside."

Harry raised a brow at Barty, who shrugged, and then turned to Viktor. "Lead the way."

Krum motioned for them to follow him. He lead them to a door at the back of the pub, which opened to a staircase leading down into a basement. He waved a hand and the room was suddenly filled with the light of a dozen torches.

Harry's eyes immediately fell upon two figures at the other end of the room. Or at least they looked like figures, except that they were unmoving. It took a second for him to realize that he was looking at to mannequins wearing full-body battle robes and masks. The robes came down to the knee and appeared to be made of some sort of black dragon hide. There were also fingerless gloves made of the same material.

What really caught Harry's attention though was the masks. They were their masks. Their personal Death Eaters masks from Malfoy Manor. Harry thought his was among his personal belongings, which were probably in Hermione's possession at this point. How had it gotten here?

"The Masks were given to us by Tiberius, who says Regulus gave them to him," Viktor said, seemingly knowing what Harry was thinking. "The robes are custom, made from Horntail hide. They are resistant to most common spells, like the Stunner and Cutting Curse. Though, if you got hit enough times, a Cutting Curse might be able to get through. Beyond that, they can reduce the damage from other spells but they von't stop a Killing Curse or anything like that. Given that this is a var, expect the enemy to use them on you."

Harry nodded. That had been one of the downfalls of the British Ministry. They didn't allow their Aurors to use the Killing Curse. The Anti-Death Eater Task Force had though. Harry knew that if he wanted to go back to England after this, he'd have to be prepared to face those men again.

"Thank you, Mr. Krum," Harry said. Barty was already running his hand over the robes and his Mask.

Viktor nodded. "I vill be upstairs, vaiting."

With that he went back the way they had come.

Harry went over to his own set of robes. "I guess they want us to make an impression, no?" He had noticed that Krum and Karkaroff were wearing what appeared to be custom robes as well, but Malcolm and the others were not.

Barty laughed. "That's what it looks like. Ready for your grand return, little brother? The God of Death and the Hangman, back in black!"

Harry rolled his eyes as Barty grinned. He picked up his mask and ran his fingers over the flat, blackened wood and the bone inlays beneath the eyes. It had been so long since he donned this mask. Now, it seemed like a whole other lifetime, but he felt something else in him aside from the nostalgia. It was a longing. A longing to be that hooded, masked terror again.

With that in mind, he tied his hair back and pulled the robes on over his black shirt and trousers, securing it over his chest and abdomen with buckles and straps. He then pulled on the gloves and finally the mask. It fit just as he remembered it, snug but not uncomfortable. He smiled behind the wood and bone, knowing that no one could see it. He then flipped the hood of the robe over his head, completing the image. He looked over to see that Barty had done the same.

He had always known that the masks made them look quite imposing, but the new robes just enhanced the image in Harry's eyes.

"This brings back memories," Barty's voice said jovially.

Harry shook his head. "Don't speak, Barty, it ruins your image."

Barty laughed as they made their way back up the stairs. "In all seriousness though, I don't know about wearing these every time we fight. It looks cool and all that, but it can be a bit cumbersome, you know?"

Harry nodded. He found fighting without the mask to be much easier. The mask limited his field of vision on the sides and that was dangerous in the heat of battle. But, for something like this, it had its uses. It was another shock tactic, just like when he had impaled those raiders on spears for their comrades to see.

They met Krum at the top of the stairs and he lead them out of the pub and into the street.

The situation outside was vastly different from what it had been when they arrived. Where before there had been chaos with people running in all directions, now it was near barren. What few people remained were either in line to receive a portkey out of the alley or wearing red bands around their arms and dressed for battle. Harry and Barty followed their 'guide' as he started off down the street.

As they walked, Harry could feel the eyes one them. Glancing about, he could see people stop what they were doing to stare at them as they passed by them. What he didn't realize was that the God of Death and the Hangman were well known even this far from England, especially given how much media attention their trials had received. The thing was, they were supposed to be dead.

Now, contrary to what the Ministries and the Ministry-controlled newspapers would like to believe, the common people weren't stupid. That being said, most of those in the alley now, who didn't know that Harry and Barty were, in fact, not dead, just thought that it was some clever little ploy thought up by their leaders to scare the enemy – hell, they even had the height proportions right – and those that knew the truth were feeling awe at seeing those two semi-legendary figures in all of their glory. Either way, both groups were experiencing a significant boost in morale.

Now, what happened next was a bit of a surprise for all involved.

As they were nearing the location where Fergus was standing with the others pointing at various spots in the immediate vicinity and ordering men and women to take up cover at those positions, Harry happened to glance over at the line of refugees being evacuated from the area. He saw the little boy that Barty had saved earlier looking at them with wide eyes. He tugged on his mother's skirt and pointed, asking something in Bulgarian. The mother looked at them and smiled before nodding to her son, who grinned and waved at them, shouting something in his native tongue.

"What did he say?" Harry asked, turning his head to Krum.

Krum looked at the child with a gentle expression. "He says 'Thank you for coming back to help us'. You are dead remember. As far as a child knows, you've come back from the dead to help us fight."

Harry turned back to the boy and nodded at him so that he could see it. The boy smiled widely at being acknowledged.

"Right, Harry, Barty, there you are, lookin' spiffin' if I do say so," Tiberius greeted them happily. "Now, you two," he placed a hand on each of their shoulders, "are going to be the shock value, eh? You stand there in the street and when the Aurors arrive you'll be the first thing they see. Fergus will be right over there in that alleyway waiting for the two o' you to throw the first spells. After that, you get up those ladders there," he pointed to two different ladders on either side of the street that lead up to the rooftops, "and rain down as much hell as you can. Got it?"

Harry nodded. It was a simple enough plan, but one that they could not keep relying on once the news of their return became public knowledge. It would lose it's shock value after that.

"Sir!"

Harry and Tiberius turned as the man from the pub, Scabior, ran up to them.

"Yes, what is it?" Tiberius asked.

"I've just received word from one of our contacts at the Ministry. Oblansk has issued an order for a full Auror strike on the Alley. We have minutes at best," Scabior said seriously, he held up a small roll of parchment as emphasis.

Tiberius took the letter and read it quickly. "Right then, get the rest o' those folks out of here and get everyone else up to the rooftops. Double-time, yeah?"

Scabior nodded and darted off again, relaying Tiberius' orders.

"Well, boys, looks like the shows about to start. Get yourselves in place." With those parting words, Tiberius took off to help get the rest of the fighters still on the ground moving.

"You ready for this, my dear brother?" Barty asked, adjusting his gloves.

Harry nodded, drawing the Elder Wand from within his sleeve. "Brother mine, I was made for this."

He looked at Barty and noticed that he had his fist raised toward him at chest height. Harry looked at Barty with an 'are you serious?' expression, not that Barty could see it through the mask. Barty shook the fist. "Come on."

Harry shook his head and faced forward. "I'm not doing that."

Barty bumped him in the shoulder with the fist. "Come on, mate, its what cool people do."

Harry scoffed. "Yeah, if you're twelve."

"Ah, come on. Fist bump. Harry, fist bump. Come on. Fist bump! Fist bump!"

Harry glared and Barty sighed. "Fine." He lowered his arm and crossed his arms.

Harry stood for a moment, doing nothing as the others started to clear the streets completely. Finally, he sighed silently to himself and held out his own fist.

Barty looked at it and bumped with this his own fist. "I knew you'd come around."

"Will you ever grow up?" Harry asked rhetorically.

"Eh, probably not," Barty admitted.

A raven's cry split the air and Harry saw the bird land on a rooftop before turning back into Regulus. He saw them looking at him and gave a small wave.

"You know, this is the part I always hated most," Barty said, his voice now serious. "The waiting, you know? Just waiting for the signal to attack. It's tense and uncomfortable. You get that weird tightening in your stomach and it gets all hard to breath. You're heartbeat is all up to eleven and you're like super aware of everything around you. It's intense."

Harry nodded, feeling his own heartbeat speeding up with anticipation for the coming battle. It was similar to when they had killed the Raiders, but more palpable, because they were sensing and unknowingly feeding off of the nervousness and anxiousness of every man and woman in that alleyway with them at that moment. The energy was damn near a physical force around them.

A booming sound filled the air and Harry saw the wards drop in a shimmering wave. They hadn't been broken, they had been taken down by the ones who cast them in the first place. It was all part of the plan. The enemy was here and they'd make their appearance in just moments.

As if to prove Harry's thoughts correct, the barricade at the end of the lane exploded, sending bits of wood and furniture flying in all directions.

When the dust settled, Harry could see a rather sizable group marching through the street toward them. He did a quick sweep with his eyes and estimated there were no less than forty men marching in their direction.

It was almost déjà vu when the man at the front of the column raised his hand and called the Aurors to a halt. He looked at them, then around as if looking for any other combatants. Unfortunately for him they were all too well hidden for him to see them.

Harry tilted his head just enough to see Barty as the Auror started shouting something in Bulgarian, which of course went right over the heads of the two Englishmen. Barty looked back and nodded and the two turned back forward, raised their wands and both said "Avada Kedavra!"

Two jets of sickly green light burst forth from their wands and rocketed toward the man. Harry's struck the man in the face, making him fall dead to the ground, whilst Barty's flew right past him a second too late and hit the man behind him, who joined his commander on the ground in a heap.

A split second passed where nobody moved, then chaos erupted as spellfire rained down from the rooftops of the surrounding buildings and the Aurors scrambled into alleyways for cover.

Barty looked down at his wand and then over at Harry. "It's not fair, yours fires faster."

Harry scoffed. "Please, you're just slow."

"Faster than Regulus," Barty chortled.

Harry rolled his eyes. It had been an old rivalry between the two eldest brothers back before Regulus had disappeared. Who was the quicker wand-slinger, as Barty had put it. So far, Barty was undefeated. He always managed to be just that much faster on the draw than Regulus.

He climbed up the ladder, pausing half-way up to fire another curse at an Auror who tried to make a break for it. The Killing Curse struck him in the back as he ran and his forward momentum carried him another five steps or so before his body finally collapsed.

He climbed over the edge of the building and nodded to the others there as he threw back his hood and tugged the mask off of his face, letting his long hair fall free. He stuffed the mask into a pocket after shrinking it and then stood up to join in the bombardment of the Aurors. It was a massacre. There was nowhere for the Aurors to hide as every alley they went into for cover was between two buildings that the rebels were positioned atop of. On top of that, Fergus was a blur of motion down on the ground, appearing for little more than a second before disappearing and popping back up somewhere else.

It was only a few short minutes before it was all over. Not to say that they killed them all, but they stopped when what was essentially a firework that produced white sparks cracked in the air above them. Unfortunately, Harry had fired off a final Killing Curse just before and in the small silence that followed the spell struck its target dead. The sound of the body hitting the ground was like a period at the end of the sentence that was this battle.

A voice that Harry recognized as that of Karkaroff shouted down at the remaining Aurors in Bulgarian, and one of the remaining Aurors responded a short while later. The Aurors came out with their hands raised and tossed their wands down. They had surrendered.

Karkaroff shouted something else down to them and they all nodded frantically, apparating away one after the other.

One of the men atop the roof with Harry tapped him on the arm, making him turn toward him with a raised brow. The man jerked his head and pointed toward a boot laying on the rooftop. The Portkey.

Harry nodded his understanding and went over to it with the other six men on the roof with them. They each took hold of the boot and the man who had hit his arm said something in Bulgarian, activating the portkey.

When they landed, Harry the others found themselves outside the walls of an old Roman villa. All around them, more groups landed with their portkeys. The last group to arrive was the group with Fergus, who had to climb up to get to his portkey after the Aurors all left.

It was in this way that Harry noticed that each group had a commander with them. Tiberius had a group of ten men, Malcolm had a group of ten as well, Fergus was with a group of nine, Barty was with a group of seven, Krum had a group of fifteen, Karkaroff had a group of fifteen as well and Scabior had a group of ten, Regulus had a group of seven. Harry had a group of seven men. ninety men in nine groups, each with a single leader. Malcolm, Tiberius, Fergus, Regulus, Karkaroff, Krum, Scabior, Barty and Harry himself.

Why they hadn't been divided up into nine groups of ten, Harry had no idea. Fergus and the others had been in charge of that, though Harry did note that Karkaroff and Krum had more men and were closer to where the Aurors had arrived from, so maybe that had something to do with it. In fact, Harry, Barty and Regulus had the smallest groups and had been furthest from the enemy.

He shrugged, not really caring at the moment. All that mattered was that they had won and now they had a stronghold to hide out in.

Harry jogged over to where the others were gathering and clapped Barty on the shoulder. Barty grinned down at him and Regulus nodded to them with a smile on his face.

As one, the group entered the gates of the villa, which were being guarded from the inside by two men wear the red arm sashes of the rebellion, theirs bearing the lion, like Krum and Karkaroff. Harry came to the realization that the other man, Scabior, his might not have the lion because he was not Bulgarian.

Harry looked at Regulus and asked, "What's with the red arm bands? And why are they different?"

Regulus looked at the ones on the guards and then the one that Scabior, who was walking ahead of them, was wearing. "They mark them as official soldiers of the rebellion. It is something that only the Sons of Independence wear. In the muggle world, they might have used something different, given that such things tend to have a bit of a taboo on them, thanks in no small part to the Nazi Party in German, but in the Magical World, as you know, they care little for muggle politics and stigmas. Red is a color of power and strength, of passion and life. They chose this color because they see their homeland as powerful and strong, and they are passionate about fighting for it, and because they would give their lives for it. Also, they represent the blood of those who have already given their lives for the cause. Vladimir Krum, primarily."

Harry nodded. "Viktor's father, right?"

Regulus nodded back. "Yes. He was Minister here for a short time, but the ICW had him arrested and executed and put Oblansk back in power. That's what started the country down the road to civil war. It has been on that path for a while though. I'm sure you heard some of it back even before you went to Hogwarts. That was the time leading up to the election that Krum won. His stance on a lot of things made him quite popular with the common folk and very unpopular with the upper class and those in positions of power. He wanted to leave the ICW, focus on the homefront first and rebuild the economy of the Bulgarian Magical World. It may not have looked it back there, but those people, these people," he gestured around him to the civilians gathered within the walls of the villa, a lot of whom were looking at them with pride and gratitude in their eyes. "They are struggling. The value of gold and silver has gone down while the cost of living has gone up. The ICW heavily taxes commerce on top of all of that. They don't allow trading with non-members of the ICW either, so where the Ministry could get an item cheaper and in larger quantity from somewhere like Lichtenstein or Iceland or Finland, all of which are not part of the ICW and pretty much self-reliant, though they do often trade with each other. Instead of getting items cheaper from these places, they are instead forced to purchase and sell goods to other ICW members first. Outside trade is allowed in rare cases, but the ICW has to approve of it, and rarely do unless it is in some way in their favor."

Harry already knew most of this, but it was good to hear it all again. It reminded him why he was here rather than in England with his family. Well, that was a bit unfair to say; Regulus and Barty were his brothers, the first family he had ever truly had.

Harry was snapped out of this reverie by someone running out of the crowd of civilians, a young woman maybe a few years younger than him. She went right up to him and pushed a small bundle of flowers into his hands, smiling large, blushing prettily and bowing slightly before rushing back to the safety of the crowd, where she could be all but anonymous.

Barty and Regulus laughed at the bemused expression on Harry's face as he looked down at the flowers and then at the crowd where the girl had disappeared to, then back at the flowers. "Looks like you've gained a few admirers," Regulus quipped, causing Harry to look up at him.

Harry shook his head as they walked on. "Unlikely. More likely she just gave it to the first of us she saw. It's not like she was there to see the battle and know who I was or anything like that."

Barty shook his head sadly. "A pretty girl give him flowers and he has to try and think logically about it." He sighed in a lamenting way. "If I didn't know any better I'd say you were gay...or asexual. Probably the latter. Anyway, if I didn't know that you've got a nice woman and child waiting for you back home..."

"Just accept it," Regulus said as Harry glowered at Barty. "It happens. You're a handsome bloke, Harry. People, especially girls, are bound to notice."

Barty groaned. "Oh, not you too."

Harry chuckled as Regulus smacked Barty sharply on the back on the head for his comment.

"So, the moral of this story," Harry said to the two of them, smirking. "Is that I got flowers from a pretty girl and you two didn't, which means that I am both better looking and smarter than both of you."

"Hey you wish," Regulus said, laughing, at the same time that Barty said. "Oi, what's flowers got to do with intelligence?"

A pause and then Barty said, "And what makes you think you're better looking?"

Harry shrugged. "I'm just going off the evidence shown to me. First, I had Pansy try to seduce me, then I met Hermione, whom I have a child with – which I think speaks for itself – then just now I got flowers from a girl I don't even know, and on top of that, did you have a pretty Auror visiting you regularly in Azkaban, Barty? An Auror, that, need I remind you, I could have shagged over the holidays that I spent at Potter Hall?"

Barty growled under his breath. "Yeah, yeah, you've got the looks, it seems, but how does intelligence factor in?"

"Well, Hermione was top of her year at Hogwarts. She wouldn't have fallen in love with an idiot, right? So that's one count of it being a factor. Pansy, for all that she had a poor choice in friends, was a smart girl, and while I may hate the ponce, Draco was intelligent for the most part. And since she tried to get with me before she started dating Draco, that says something. So that's two. Now, Nymphadora is an Auror, and they don't take fools or idiots. And she is also a smart girl, and wouldn't be in love with an idiot. So that's three counts in favor. And then this girl, well, let's just say she showed her intelligence by approaching me rather than you, so that's four. So, two girls that like me and two that love me. I win."

Barty just gave his a rude gesture consisting of two fingers and huffed while Regulus laughed. Barty's face screwed up in concentration for a moment. "Wait, two girls in love with you? I get Hermione, but who was the other one?"

Harry cut his eyes over at him seriously. "Nymphadora."

"The Auror?" Regulus asked. "How do you know that?"

Harry looked uncomfortable. "When she would visit me, she would just stand at the door and talk to me. I could hear it in her voice." He sighed. "I don't know what I'm going to do about that when I get back. I suppose I could just ignore it, but I feel like it should be addressed so it doesn't get out of hand."

Regulus and Barty shared a glance before Barty shrugged. Regulus looked back at Harry, who was in thought, his eyes slightly glazed over. "I'm sure you'll think of something, Harry. You always do."

By this point they had reached the actual house and made their way up to the second floor. In a room at the front of the house, with a balcony overlooking the front lawn, there was a table set up with eight chairs around it. While everyone else took a seat at the table, Harry went to the doors to the balcony and threw them open, leaning against the frame and looking out over the lawn at all of the civilians and soldiers moving about, setting up magical tents. Harry noticed a few soldiers leading a group of children inside the villa.

"Orphans," said a rough voice slightly behind Harry. He turned to see Karkaroff standing there, following his gaze. "We could not leave them behind."

Harry nodded as he turned away from the outside view and faced the table, where Karkaroff had taken the last seat. Harry conjured himself a comfortable chair and sat down where he was at.

"Right," Malcolm said, leaning forward on the table. "We'll need to plan our next move."

"Our main goal is the remove the Minister from power right? And place one of these lot in his place?" Barty asked.

Malcolm nodded. "That would be the general idea. We secure Bulgaria and then we take the fight to the ICW."

"Well, the easiest way would be to assassinate the Minister. Or capture him," Harry said, running a hand through his hair.

"The only problem with that is that he would have a number of personal guards now that war has begun. They will not let anyone close to him," Karkaroff interjected.

"Then we draw him into the open," Tiberius said, stroking his beard. "Make him come out o' his hole, as it were."

"Oblansk won't join in a fight," Regulus countered, shaking his head. "He's a coward, not a fighter. He'll stay as far away from the fighting as he can."

"Then we take the fight to him," Harry said, as if it were obvious.

"There's no way we'd get close to him," Regulus retorted. "It'll be hard enough getting into the Ministry at this point, they'll have our faces plastered all over the place by morning."

"What about his home?" Tiberius asked. Everyone looked at him. "Think about it. You hunt a bear by cornering it in its cave. If we go to his home we stand a better chance of getting at him. Even a coward feels invisible in his own home, and he wouldn't think to add more security there, since he would think that we'd attack the Ministry first."

Fergus nodded, getting a mischievous look in his eye. "The fox kills the chicken in the coop."

Tiberius nodded and bumped his fist on the table. "See, our friend from Éire gets it."

"There's only one problem," Malcolm said, holding up his hand for them to listen. "We don't know where his home is."

Silence fell over the table and it's occupants for a moment as they all considered this setback.

"Actually, that is not true."

Everyone looked up at Krum, who had spoken into the silence.

"I know vhere his home is," he said. At a gesture from Malcolm, he went on. "I, for a time, I have been having an..uh, how you say...afera vith the Minister's daughter, Elena."

"You been having an affair with the Minister's daughter?" Malcolm asked, making sure he had heard right.

Krum nodded his head.

"Ooh, scandal," Barty said, laughing and drumming on the table with his hand. "I like it! What's she like? Is she nice? I bet she's nice."

"And she will let us in?" Harry asked, ignoring Barty's yapping and wondering why this sounded too easy.

Krum looked doubtful. "I do not know, but it is vorth a try, ne?"

Harry nodded. "It could work. If nothing else, we can always kidnap her and use her as leverage to get Oblansk to come out in the open."

Krum slammed his fist down on the tabletop, standing up and glaring at Harry. "I vill not allow such a thing! She is not to come to harm!"

Harry smirked. "I didn't say we were going to harm her. I said we're going to use her. Maybe."

"Sit down, Viktor," Karkaroff, said, placing a hand on the younger man's arm. "No harm will come to Elena. You have my word." Krum looked down at him for a moment, then nodded, dropping back into his seat.

"Our tempers are running high," Malcolm said, looking between Harry, who was calm as gentle breeze, and Krum, who was still giving Harry a hard look. "Let us all retire for the day. We'll reconvene tomorrow afternoon to discuss this further."

Everyone filtered out, leaving Harry, Regulus, Barty and Malcolm. The latter looked over at Harry sternly. "What was that?"

Harry raised a brow. "What was what?"

"You know what," Malcolm hissed. "Provoking Viktor like that."

Harry shrugged and stood up. "You brought us here to do a job. That's what I'm doing. It's a bit late to be getting upset with my methods."

Malcolm shook his head. "It isn't the methods I have a problem with. Sure, I don't like the idea of using a man's child against him, but this is a war and we must be ruthless. What I have a problem with is infighting. I'll not have our commanders at each other's throats. We have to stand together or we will fail."

"Is this one of those 'united we stand, divided we fall' speeches?" Barty asked. "I always loved those."

"Join or die," Harry said, "would be more accurate. Though, I guess, they essentially mean the same thing in the end." He sighed resentfully and walked over to where Malcolm was standing, leaning in to whisper darkly to the older man. "Fine, I'll play nice for now, but I won't hesitate to do what I feel has to be done. Don't try to stop me, and don't get in my way."

Malcolm met his eyes and nodded. "That's all I'm asking."

Harry nodded back, and Barty and Regulus followed suit.

"Right," Malcolm exhaled, taking a step away from Harry. "Let's get you three rooms so that you can get settled in. Who knows how long we'll actually be here."

"Not very long, if I have anything to say about it," Harry muttered as he made to follow.

XXXX

A/N: All right, another chapter down. I hope you all enjoyed it. Thanks for reading. Please leave some feedback.

Important cast introduced:

Igor Karkaroff [ Portrayed by Predrag Bjelac ]

Viktor Krum [ Portrayed by Stanislav Ianevski ]

Scabior [ Portrayed by Nick Moran ]