A/N: Chap 11 review responses are in my forums. Additionally, the cut/paste error with my AN in Chap 11 has been corrected. Thanks to those who pointed it out.

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Chapter Twelve: Patricide

Harry felt disappointed in how similar the Southwestern School of Magic was to Hogwarts. There were some differences, of course. The SSM was a day school with multiple Floos to allow students from all over the Four Corners region, as the four states in its area were sometimes called, to come to school in a timely manner.

However, classes were still segregated by year and gender, with only a handful of upper-year courses being co-educational. In retrospect, he should not have been surprised. Physiology did not change just because they were on a different continent. The risk of accidental bonding was still real, regardless of whether the boys wielded custom male wands or not.

That said, after his first full week of classes, Harry did notice some distinct differences. Though he did not take it, for all other students the Self Defence Class was not just mandatory, it was considered one of the most important classes and was given more time on the schedule than anything else. The class met outside most days, and involved a great deal of physical exercise as opposed to how Hogwarts taught it.

The exercises were very similar to what Lieutenant Vance taught the JMOC, and Harry realized it was because every student would serve in the Defence force in at least one capacity or another. Aside from the active army, almost every healthy witch-born in age from eight to sixty was held in reserve, and had to drill at least four times annually. That level of social militancy was unheard of in British magical society.

Another class Britain and other ICW schools did not have at all was the Earth Magic class, which was restricted to witch-born Native Americans only.

Aside from those few examples, though, in most other ways the curriculum in the classes very closely followed ICW guidelines. Students from the 6th Grade through the 10th Grade (the grade system was odd for Harry) concentrated on receiving sufficient education to take and pass the Scholastic Assessment Test, which Harry gathered was the American equivalent of British A-levels.

He and Luna both fought their nervousness on that first day when they Apparated to school. Unfortunately, they were in trouble from the very first moment they arrived. The morning hall monitor was one of the lower division teachers, and immediately accosted the young couple. "You!" the witch shouted. "What do you think you're doing?"

Before Harry could answer, Luna blinked and said, "I believe we are arriving to school."

Her accent momentarily threw the other witch off balance. "Who are you? I've never seen you before."

"I'm Luna Potter and this is husband, Harry," Luna said brightly.

"You're too young to be married."

"Not in Britain, sadly," Luna said.

The witch's eyes widened with realization. "Okay, you're the British expatriates. Right. Fine. New students are to arrive by Floo only."

Luna wilted a little in the face of overwhelming disapproval from the witch. Harry stepped forward. "With respect, ma'am, Mr Ollivander and Lieutenant Vance said we could come by apparition. We're both aethers, and our magic reacts poorly to Floo travel. We could actually be a danger to other students."

"Take it up with the Principal," the witch said.

"The principal knows, Mrs Martinez, thank you."

Harry stared. "Lieutenant Vance?"

"Out of uniform, I'm Principal Vance," the tall witch said. "Mrs Martinez, Mr and Mrs Potter have a strong reaction to the Floo, which could have unintended consequences for them and other students. I'll take care of their orientation. Come with me, you two."

Harry and Luna fell in behind the military officer and school principal while around them, older students milled about greeting each other as teachers stood at the doors of individual classrooms, checking off names.

"It's a lot different than Hogwarts," Luna noted. Though she tried to keep her tone neutral, Harry heard sadness there.

"Most of the differences are because this is a day school," Vance said. Soon enough, all the other students disappeared into their classrooms while Harry and Luna continued walking down the long hall. She handed each of them a class schedule in the ensuing silence.

Harry examined his in confused silence. "I only have four classes." Indeed, his schedule had him for Alchemy, Transfiguration, Charms and Runecraft. "And I've never taken Runes. I was in Divination."

"We don't have any licensed seers to teach Divination," Vance said. "In fact, the two of you are currently half of our population of confirmed seers. That's another family trait that did not immigrate in numbers. However, I think Runecraft will suit you, Mr Potter. There are many defensive and offensive uses for runes."

Wordlessly, Luna handed over her own schedule. It was full of what looked like normal classes. "Why is Luna's schedule different?"

Vance looked over her should with one raised brow at Luna, who blushed. "I'm not a fighter, Harry," Luna finally said. "Not like you are. I will do best by learning as much as I can to help you in those areas you aren't specialized in."

"We have very, very few Air or Water elemental witch-born in front-line units," Vance explained. "They rarely have the proper mentality for combat. It isn't just a need to defend—all witch-born have the innate ability to defend themselves. However, soldiers also need to be able to kill as a business. Water-elementals have a history of losing themselves in death—going mad with cruelty or hatred. Air elementals have been documented to freeze up at crucial moments, resulting in not just their deaths, but the deaths of whole units. There are exceptions, of course. We are not the sum total of our elemental leaning, but it would be foolish to force people to go against their natures except where absolutely necessary, or where those individuals are sure."

"What will I be doing in the meantime, ma'am?" Harry asked.

They stepped out of the school, and waiting for them near the Quodpot field, stood Sergeant White, grinning broadly. In one hand he held a wand—in the other a staff.

"You're going to learn how to fight, Mr Potter," Vance said. "President Murchison is, as we speak, deep in discussion with the ICW and the British Ministry about you. We are not going to let you go without receiving international assurances of your safety, but it is a foregone conclusion that you will not be with us for long."

Though disappointed, Harry was not surprised. "So, until then…?"

"Until then, we maintain your studies so you can pass your OWLS, and we will use every other waking hour with training to help you stay alive. Ollivander is an influential wizard, and he feels preparing you is the very least we can do."

Harry gulped once, and then squared his shoulders and nodded. "Thank you, ma'am. I'm ready."

"Then go on out. I'll walk your wife to class."

Luna stood holding herself as she watched her husband walk out to the waiting warrior. "He's a hero," Vance said.

"He really is," Luna agreed softly.

~~Firebird~~

~~Firebird~~

Amelia stared at the slip of parchment with furrowed brows. Of all the complications she did not need, this was the top of the list. Worst yet, she understood exactly why Granger and Finch-Fletchley were doing what they were doing. The two witches were caught in an impossible situation, and were obviously trying to parlay it into a bettering of their circumstances. It was a rather Slytherin thing to do, actually. Amelia just wasn't sure it was enough.

Girding her loins, she left her office and began a trek through the Ministry until she reached the office of the Senior Undersecretary of Magic. With once last sigh to gather her wits, she knocked on the door.

"Come in," a high, syrupy voice called.

Amelia stepped into the office and fought an urge not to run away. Dame Dolores Umbridge was not alone—Dame Delia Griffin was there as well. Still, Amelia realized she would have had to get Delia's support regardless. The woman was leading the most powerful block of the Sabbat at the moment.

"Director Bones, what a pleasant surprise," Dolores lied with artful insincerity. "How may I assist you?"

"Actually, I'm glad to see both of you," Amelia smiled, lying with equal aplomb. "We have received overwhelming evidence of a new witch-hunting organization here in Britain. Three witches have been abducted, and according to our sources, two of them have been brutally murdered. The third is likely to die soon, and more will be captured."

"I've not heard of any missing witches," Dame Delia noted coolly.

"Because they are self-exiled Muggleborn, Dame Delia," Amelia said. She had not sat down yet, and doubted she would be invited to do so. These two dames were sticklers for protocol, after all.

"So why should we care?" Dame Dolores asked, still in her sickly-sweet tone. "They chose to leave the protection of the Ministry."

"We should care, ma'am, because the hunters are studying them to find ways to kill us," Amelia said, taking the only tack these women would care about. "Our sources infiltrated what they described as a mad science laboratory, in which these poor young witches were brutally experimented on until they were used as subjects to test lethal weapons, and were then subjected to autopsies."

At this, even Delia paled. Autopsies were a topic of witches and wizard's worst nightmares, a taboo defamation of the flesh worse than necromancy in the eyes of the magical community. "Who are your sources?" the Griffin Dame demanded.

Wordlessly, Amelia handed over the parchment. Delia read it, paling further. She was far too consummate the politico to exclaim aloud, but Amelia could see rage burning in her eyes as she handed the parchment to Dolores.

The Senior Undersecretary—and the Sabbat's established presence in the Ministry—pursed her lips, clasped her hands together, and stared up at Amelia. "What is it you wish to do, Director Bones?" she asked.

This was a chance for Amelia to hang herself, or win the day. "My first priority is the elimination of the risk to our kind, Senior Undersecretary. This organization appears to be well funded and likely has its roots in the Muggle government. Trying to strike at the government directly could precipitate a war. Thus, I feel our best action would be to eliminate the hunters themselves. With them being in a warded location, our best hope to accomplish this is to take advantage of the offer made on that parchment."

"They broke the Statute," Dame Delia noted.

Amelia sighed, and said, "Dame Delia, we both know they were defending themselves. We also know why. It is not my place to question the actions of the Sabbat. However, I need them to keep the Sabbat and all other witch-born safe. And truly—it's not as if either of them are at risk of heading a coven anymore."

Amelia watched closely for reactions to the two women. Delia was unreadable, but Umbridge clicked her tongue in frustration. It was Dame Delia who spoke first. "We will allow the two to petition the Sabbat for leniency and permission to return to the school—I will not unilaterally overturn a Wizengamot vote. However, the Sabbat as a whole can override the Wizengamot verdict if circumstances warrant it. That said, they must in return provide information as to who supplied them the wards and other materiel they have obtained. Dame Umbridge, would you agree?"

Umbridge looked as if she had a sour taste in her mouth, but she nodded. All three women knew who truly ran the show. "Yes, yes of course. The elimination of the hunter issue is our primary concern. And as Director Bones pointed out, Potter has already bonded and has left our kingdom entirely, so there is no longer any danger of that Granger girl becoming a first wife."

"Then it is agreed?" Amelia asked. "I'll need warrants, both to destroy the hunters and to detain the two witches safely until they petition the Sabbat."

"You'll have them within the hour," Umbridge said, but only after a glance at Delia.

"Thank you, Senior Undersecretary, Dame Delia. I will make a full report to the Wizengamot and Sabbat when the situation has been resolved." Amelia turned and walked out of the office at a measured pace, despite the urge to run. By the time she reached her office, Tonks was already waiting.

"Gather up the crew," she said. "And pull a squad of hit witches as well. We move tonight."

~~Firebird~~

~~Firebird~~

"Mum, Dad, do you have a second?"

Edwin and Calliope Granger looked up from their chess game; Edwin laughed. "We have days and days, sweetie. What can we do for you?"

Hermione closed the door, then to their surprise raised her wand and cast a privacy ward over the room. In one corner, they heard a pop as a camera stopped working. Assured they were not being watched, Hermione walked to their table and sat next to her mum. "Last night, Justine and I snuck into the wine cellar."

Edwin frowned. "Hermione, you weren't…"

"Justine's dad is capturing, torturing and killing witches," Hermione said before he could finish. "A ghost of one warned me, and we saw it with our own eyes. The ghost was only a few years older than I am. We heard Watterson say that they would do the same thing to me, if you made Sir Marcus angry."

"I don't believe it!" Edwin said.

"It doesn't matter," Hermione said, staring at him intently. "Daddy, I do love you, but this… Justine and I can't let this continue. What Sir Marcus is doing is evil."

Calliope felt her stomach drop. "Hermione, what did you do?"

"We've made a deal with Director Bones," Hermione told them. "We can petition the Sabbat to be allowed to return to Hogwarts in return for getting them in here before Sir Marcus kills any more witches. I need you two to leave and not come back."

Edwin stood, stammering, but her mother looked her in the eye. "I'm not condoning what Sir Marcus has done," Calliope said, "but he's doing it with the knowledge and funds of the Crown, Hermione. If you do this…"

"Mum, I am not like you. I am a witch. So is Justine. It's not something we can just choose not to be. And as a witch, I…I must protect my own kind."

My own kind. There it was—the phrase Calliope had feared and hated since she first learned why her precious little girl was so different from other children. "Hermione…"

"I need the two of you to leave," Hermione said again, her eyes moist but determined. "I need you to go away from here, and not come back. Don't just leave this town—leave England. Move away. Luna said you'll have another daughter—take her someplace where she can be safe, and if she's a witch, someplace where she can learn magic without all the darkness we have here."

"You're coming with us," Edwin said.

"No, I'm not," Hermione said. "I have a destiny here—a part to play. Please…please just leave. I love you, and I need to know you're safe. You have an hour. After that…they promised not to come after anyone not in the house when they struck, except those directly responsible. Please just go."

She flung herself forward, hugging her mother and father both, before she turned and ran out of the room.

An hour later, Hermione stood beside Justine on column-lined portico of the house and watched as her parents drove away in a black Range Rover. Their departure raised a few eyebrows from Watterson and his men, but the fact that Hermione and Justine stayed allayed some of their concerns.

"Are you ready?" Justine whispered.

"No," Hermione said. "Is your mum gone?"

"Shopping. But…but my dad is here in the study upstairs."

Hermione looked at her friend, clasping her hand. "Are you sure?"

"I am. As long as you're with me, I'm sure."

Hermione nodded, hugged the girl who had become her very best friend, and stepped off the portico. As she walked alone toward the ward-line, one of Watterson's agents immediately started jogging toward her. "Miss Granger, I'm going to need you to return to the house, please."

"I just wanted some air," Hermione said, putting as much nasal whine into the words as she could.

"I understand, but it's not safe for you out here."

"What do you think will happen?" Hermione asked as she continued to walk. Her skin tickled as she crossed the ward line.

The agent, not exactly sure where the ward line was, and unable to feel the magic of it, walked beside her. "Miss, you know why you're here. Please return to the manor."

"Oh, alright," she said. Behind her back, she let her wand slip from her sleeve, and as the man turned to glance briefly back at the house, Hermione cast a quiet "Lumos!"

The response was immediate and overwhelming. The agent's eyes bulged and he started reaching for his gun as twenty witches and five wizards appeared right behind Hermione. "Down!" Amelia Bones shouted.

Hermione hit the ground as a black curse struck the agent. The teenaged witch stared in shock as the magic cut the man open from his collar to his kidney. The Ministry force crossed the ward boundary just as the manor's Defence system came on.

Hermione couldn't help but scream when two huge .50 calibre machine guns opened up on the attackers from either side of the house. One of the black-clad Hit Witches cried and jerked back as massive bullets riddled her chest.

Ten of the attackers formed a uniform magical shield that at least momentarily repelled the gunfire, while the others disappeared with loud pops. They reappeared on the roof, wands flashing as they destroyed not just the guns, but the men wielding the weapons. The injured witch disappeared with a Portkey. With the machine guns out of commission, the attackers let the shield drop and popped to the side of the house, rather than run across a potential killing field. Justine lay prostate on the long portico of the manor, her hands behind her head and her wand on the ground.

One of the Aurors in red robes picked the wand up, while the rest vanished large portions of the wall leading to the parlour. They ran through this hole instead of the front door. Hermione sat up, feeling her arms shake with adrenaline, as the house continued to roar with spell fire and automatic weapons.

Suddenly Agent Watterson burst from the front door holding a huge, futuristic-looking rifle that ended in a small dish rather than a nozzle, and which was connected by a thick cord to a backpack he had strapped on over his jacket. A Hit Witch came running after; he spun and fired. The witch raised a shield, only to scream as some invisible force struck through her magic.

Hermione stared in shock as the witch virtually vibrated apart, shaking so hard her skin ruptured, blood burst from the capillaries of her eyes, and pink froth billowed from her mouth. Hermione scrambled to her feet, had her wand pointed, and screamed "Flagrate!"

The curse was cast before she even gave thought to what she was doing. Watterson turned and stared at her in shock at the sound, just in time for the curse to strike not him, but the pack on his back.

Instantly, the pack erupted with white-hot flame. Watterson screamed even as he tried to rip the backpack off, but whatever power source his odd weapon used was volatile—the pack exploded with sufficient power to knock Hermione back on to her rear.

When she looked again, the agent was reduced to a black, charred stump, still burning. She screamed when Amelia Bones appeared beside her with a pop. The director of the DMLE looked from Hermione to Watterson, and then to the twitching witch beyond. Already a fellow Hit Witch was attending to the woman's injuries.

"I killed him," Hermione stuttered. She lifted shaking hands to her face and let her wand drop. "I knew him—he helped save of us from that man trying to kill us after school, and I…he…I killed him."

"You saved a fellow witch," Amelia said gently, placing a hand on the young woman's shoulder. "I don't know how that weapon worked, but it went through our magic as if we were Muggles, and boiled our bodies. We lost three witches to it inside."

"The captured witches…?"

"The newest capture we saved, but the one you saw was already dead."

Shock turned to grief. Hermione leaned forward as great, wracking sobs shook her chest. She didn't even look up when Justine arrived, her cheeks smeared with soot from being so close to the explosion. "Madam Bones, my father…?"

Amelia looked up at the tall young witch and shook her head. "I'm sorry. He also had one of those weapons. He killed one of my team, and her partner responded with lethal curses. They were far better defended than any hunter group I've ever even read of."

Justine sat down boneless beside Hermione. "And my mum?" she said as tears ran down her nose.

"She will be investigated to see how far into the Muggle government this went, and then will be Obliviated. I'm sorry, child, but we are going to have to take it all. She can't remember anything of the magical world, not even you."

This time it was Justine's turn to bend over in grief, while Hermione hugged her closely. Both girls jumped as the house suddenly exploded in a ball of green flame, only for the flame and the house itself to get sucked down into a wooden box about the size of a Hogwarts trunk. With the manor house and all evidence of what happened gone, Hermione could see the team of witches and wizards on the far side of the grounds, popping away one-at-a-time.

"All our belongings were in that house," Hermione whispered. "Our clothes, our books, our trunks—everything."

"Miss Granger…Hermione, listen to me," Amelia said. "This is not going to be easy for either of you. The Sabbat expects you to grovel before them. If you don't, you'll not live out the day. But you can get through this—you're both strong young witches, I know you are. You can get through this. Harry needs you."

That caught both their attention. "What…" Hermione began.

Amelia shushed her, and then placed her wand to Hermione's forehead and cast a silent charm. "An obscuration charm—think of it as a shield for your mind. It will protect you from any Legilimency attacks." She did the same for Justine. "Understand girls, I had to do this. Those men were creating weapons to kill us. You did the right thing by coming. More importantly, you did the smart thing by parlaying your knowledge into something tangible. I will report to the Sabbat that you, Miss Granger, killed a Muggle soldier to save the life of a Hit Witch, while you, Miss Finch-Fletchley, purposely reported your own father for killing witches."

"Not Fletchley," Justine said with a thick, emotion-wrought voice. "Just Finch, Justine Finch. I'm not a Fletchley anymore, and maybe not even a Finch."

Amelia nodded and took the girl's hand in hers. "Be strong, both of you, and you will get through this."

Hermione and Justine sat holding each other, staring into the space that once housed everything they owned.


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Author's Note: Very special thanks as always to Teufel1987, JR and Miles for beta reading. If there are any major faux-pas, they are entirely of my own doing.