Harry Potter and the Divine Plan Chapter 25: The Sum of Rage and Hate, a harry potter fanfic

Warning: I am going to say that this chapter is rated M, just to be safe, for one scene in particular.

Chapter 25

The Sum of Rage and Hate

"What do you mean 'things just got worse?'" Hermione asked. Harry didn't answer her and continued forging a path towards the Headmaster's office. Hermione struggled to keep up, and before she knew it, they were riding the stairs up to the office, having bypassed the gargoyle.

Harry threw open the door to Dumbledore's office with great force. "We've got a problem," he announced.

Dumbledore peered at Harry over his half-moon glasses. "And what would that be, Harry?"

Harry pulled out the folder from his pocket, enlarged it, and threw it down on Dumbledore's desk. Intrigued, the older wizard began to flip through the pages, stopping about halfway through. Hermione noticed his face fall, much like Harry's had earlier.

"Would somebody please tell me what's going on?" she pleaded.

Harry didn't take his eyes off of Dumbledore, but answered anyway. "Voldemort has set up concentration camps throughout Britain. That's where all the people who've disappeared have gone. He's going to slaughter them."

Dumbledore raised a single finger to silence Harry. "Actually, Harry, I do not believe that is the case. It would be much easier to simply use the killing curse without transporting mass numbers of people. There is something else at play here."

"But what else could it be? All I can see is Voldemort marching his victims off for who-knows-what purpose," Harry challenged.

"We cannot be certain, Harry. But this is truly a troubling development."

"I didn't read through it enough to find out, but does it say anything in there about where any of these camps are?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore glanced through the pages for a few moments, stopping several times to pull out a few pieces of paper. After finishing going through the entire folder, he put it aside and looked over the papers he had pulled out.

"From what I can gather from these documents, the Americans have identified at least five camps throughout Britain. They are allegedly under the influence of muggle-repelling charms, as well as other various unidentified wards. However, the Americans are certain that the camps are not under the fidelius charm, as it would prove too difficult to let every new prisoner in on the secret."

"Makes sense. But I don't think we can go bursting into these camps, wands blazing, without knowing exactly what is going on in there," Hermione concluded. "We could inadvertently be playing into Voldemort's hands."

"But we've got to save those people!" Harry urged. "We can't just let them be pawns in Voldemort's game!"

"And we fully intend to, Harry," Dumbledore reassured him. "But for now, we must be patient, and gather our resources. There are photographs of the sites included in this folder. From them, I can tell that there are large numbers of Death Eaters guarding each facility. It would be foolish to attack them at the current time."

Dumbledore handed Harry a series of moving surveillance photographs, obviously taken by a magical satellite. Harry could see several buildings that looked vaguely like barracks, each surrounded by a fence. There was also a larger fence surrounding each complex. Harry could only assume that there were magical defenses as well. Stationed outside each building were several figures, which could only be Death Eaters. Over a dozen were visible in each photograph, and there were likely more out of sight.

"Then what do you suggest we do?" Harry asked, resigned.

"We wait," Dumbledore said confidently. Harry's eyes widened in disbelief. "But we do not sit idly," the Headmaster continued. "There is a fine line between being patient and abetting the enemy. We will gather what information we can about the defenses of each camp before we act. I agree that we cannot let the camps stand any longer than necessary. But we cannot be reckless. That would only lead to greater casualties. Mrs. Potter, how is your animagus form coming?"

"I've almost got it down," she replied. "I can do pretty much every part of my eagle form, just not all at the same time. That's all I've got left to do."

"Excellent. While these surveillance photographs are indeed useful, I believe that some first-hand knowledge would help us greatly. Hermione, once you achieve your complete transformation, I think that you would be perfect to scout out the camps for us from the air. Meanwhile, if I am not mistaken, young Mr. Potter, not you Harry, would be useful to survey from the ground in his snake form."

The three continued to converse about the implications of the latest revelation, as well as their errands, before Harry and Hermione returned to Potter Tower. They each took a short amount of time before going to sleep to practice their animagus transformations, as they did every night. Finally, at just after ten in the evening, the two Potters retired.

One evening over a week later, Harry's focus on grading his class's Christmas break assignment was snapped by Hermione's excited yelling.

"Harry! I did it!" she exclaimed, bursting into the sitting room from their room. She threw herself at Harry, landing on his lap, spewing parchment everywhere. She had also knocked the wind out of her husband.

Gingerly getting up off of Harry's lap, leaving him wheezing. It took him almost a minute to regain his breath.

"What did you do?" he asked tentatively, wanting to avoid a repeat of what had just happened.

"I transformed! I did the entire transformation!" To prove her case, Hermione closed her eyes for a split second before she smoothly transformed into a large eagle. She remained in that form for a few moments before somewhat jerkily transforming back to her human form. "I still need to work on that part," she admitted sheepishly.

"No, you did great, Mione," Harry said sincerely. He stood and wrapped his arms around her. "You even beat me."

"You'll get it soon," she responded. "I know you will."

"Yeah, I guess so," Harry sighed.

"Oh, come on," she said, rolling her eyes. "Go ahead and try it now. Concentrate. Believe that you can do it on the first try."

"But I won't," Harry whined.

"That's exactly why you haven't gotten it yet. You keep thinking that you need to keep practicing. Imagine yourself as the lion. Not part of yourself, but your entire body. Believe you are the lion. If you believe it, you become it. At least that worked for me," Hermione suggested.

"Fine."

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He visualized the lion. His lion. He saw it on the African savannah, chasing after its prey. He could feel himself running along beside it, he could feel the air rushing through his hair. Harry reached out to touch the lion as it ran, and as he touched it, everything stopped. There was no wind, there was no exhilarating feeling of running. Slowly, Harry opened his eyes and saw that the sitting room in Potter Tower was taller than before, as was Hermione, but only slightly.

"Harry, you did it!" Hermione squealed, wrapping her arms around Harry's neck. He tried to open his mouth to speak, only to find a roar emerge, causing Hermione to giggle. "Go on, Harry, try it out. Walk around a little."

Harry did just that, and took several steps around the room. He found it awkward to try and walk on four legs, but after just a few steps, he grew accustomed to it. As he approached the portrait hole, it opened, and Draco stepped inside.

"Merlin!" he screamed, pulling out his wand and aiming it at Harry.

"Wait, Draco! Don't!" Hermione exclaimed. "Don't hurt him, it's Harry!"

Draco lowered his wand. "That's Harry? He finally did it? Great job, mate!" Draco slapped Harry on his back, and out of instinct, Harry heard himself growl, causing the blonde to back away slowly. Harry would have to learn to control his more primal instincts. He returned to Hermione and sat down on his haunches.

"Now all you really have to do is visualize yourself again to transform back. It's harder than it sounds, but not that hard once you get the hang of…" She was cut off as Harry transformed before her eyes. "Well that was convenient."

"Actually, the whole thing of me being able to transform on the same day as you after we've both been trying for months is terribly convenient as well," Harry observed. "Oh well, let's try not to dwell on it too long. I have a better idea. Come on, Mione." Harry rushed into their room and emerged a moment later carrying his Firebolt. Hermione had an idea of where he was going with this, so she followed him out of the Tower, leaving a puzzled Draco behind.

A few minutes later, Harry and Hermione emerged from the castle onto the school grounds. They walked for a short time away from the castle before Harry stopped.

"So I take it you haven't tried flying yet?" he asked Hermione. She shook her head. "Then let's try it now. I know you aren't the biggest fan of flying, but you'll need to get used to it. I'll be up there on my broom in case anything goes wrong. But more importantly, I always like to fly with you, so this is just another chance for me to do that."

Hermione smiled weakly at Harry's words before shifting into her eagle form. Harry mounted his broom and rose a few feet into the air above Hermione. She began to beat her wings and slowly rose into the air. Harry kept an eye on her as she continued to rise unsteadily, and he rose with her, making sure to stay a few feet below her once she got into the air. After a few moments, the two were two hundred feet in the air, or so Harry estimated when he looked down. At this point, Hermione stopped rising and instead began to beat her wings to hover.

Hermione took in her surroundings, which were breathtaking from the altitude they were at. She could see for what seemed like miles, beyond the Forbidden Forest, and she thought she could also see smoke rising from the chimneys in Hogsmeade. Wanting to stretch her wings a bit, and not intending to make a pun out of it, Hermione set off in a glide towards the Forbidden Forest, and Harry took off after her on his broom.

The two soared for what seemed like hours, flying over the castle, skimming the water of the Black Lake, and surveying the Forbidden Forest like never before. Hermione had been flying on only a few occasions, but this time made her feel more free and alive than ever before. She could finally appreciate Harry's fondness for flying.

As the sun began to set, Hermione angled herself towards the ground and began her descent, with Harry following closely. Once they reached the ground, Harry dismounted and approached Hermione, who transformed back to her human form as he walked. She immediately rushed over and kissed him.

"That was great, Harry!" she said excitedly. "I've never felt so alive before!"

"What have you done with my Hermione?" Harry asked in mock confusion. "She'd never admit to enjoying flying. She hates it."

Hermione slapped the side of Harry's head playfully. "Shut up, you prat," she said. "I've just never experienced flying like I did just now. I can understand why you like it so much."

"So since you admit it, I guess I win the bet. Looks like you have to-"

"There was never any bet!" she exclaimed.

"Oh, but that's where you're wrong. Remember, I bet you would admit you liked flying once you achieved your transformation?"

"There was never any bet!" she repeated. "You're just making that up." She noticed Harry attempt to subtly reach for his wand. "And don't you dare think of using confundus on me!"

Harry's hand quickly returned to his side and he shrugged. "Well, it was worth a shot," he admitted, earning a glare from Hermione. "Come on, it's getting late. We should tell Grandpa in the morning so that we can visit one of the camps as soon as possible." Hermione nodded and followed Harry back into the castle.

As they entered the castle, they encountered Dumbledore.

"Ah, Harry, Hermione, just the pair I was looking for. Harry, remember that tomorrow Montgomery and Burns will be arriving to begin surveying for the new tower. They will need a down payment sometime tomorrow, so if it is not too much of an inconvenience…"

Harry put up his hand to silence the Headmaster. "Don't worry, I'll take care of it," he said.

"Excellent, Harry. I always know I can count on you. Now forgive me if I pry, but what were you two doing outside at such an hour?"

The two Potters looked around to make sure they were alone in the entrance hall. They were. "We achieved our transformations," Hermione said, earning a smile and eye twinkle from Dumbledore.

"How do you do that eye thing?" Harry asked.

"I'm not sure what you mean, Harry," Dumbledore said slyly, feigning innocence.

"You know exactly what I mean. How do you make your eyes twinkle?"

"You mean to tell me that when I am amused, my eye twinkle? How remarkable. I must look into that further. If you'd excuse me, I have some research to conduct. We will discuss this more in the morning. Good evening." Dumbledore quickly walked away from the two, leaving Harry and Hermione to wonder at his words.

"What do you think is up with him?" Harry asked.

"He probably doesn't want to reveal his secret," Hermione answered. "It might be a trademarked Headmaster ability or something."

"Oh well, let's get back," Harry said, taking Hermione's hand. The two made the long walk back up to their tower. When they entered, they found Dan and Emma in a passionate embrace, among other things. Even though they were still fully clothed, Harry and Hermione closed their eyes and silently felt their way into their room, closing the door behind them.

"That was the last thing I needed to see," Harry moaned, throwing himself on the bed.

"I'll have nightmares for weeks," Hermione added. "Not to mention that image will be burned into my brain for the rest of my life."

"Well where did you think you came from?" Harry asked.

Hermione put her hands on her ears and began to hum loudly like a young child would. Harry could only laugh.

The next morning, Harry and Hermione awoke within minutes of each other. They seemed to have a system down to where the second would wake almost immediately after the first. After nearly a half hour of showering and getting ready, the two left their personal apartment within Potter Tower and made their way towards the Great Hall for breakfast.

As they sat at the Head Table in silence, Mr. Burns approached them. "Ah, Mr. Potter, just the person I was looking for?"

"What're you doing here?" Harry asked between bites.

"We begin surveying and construction of the new tower today. As I am functioning as the general contractor for this project, I have received permission from the Headmaster to stay on campus until we are finished."

"I see," Harry said slowly. "Now what can I do for you?"

"Quite to the point, you are, Mr. Potter. Let me get to the crux of the matter. In order to begin construction, we need a certain, how shall I put this, down payment from you. Just a demonstration of your interest in this project as well as your good faith."

Harry put down his fork. "And how much are we talking here?"

Mr. Burns' eyes rolled back into his head as he thought for a moment. "Well, since the total project is estimated at just over five million galleons, I believe that a down payment of ten percent should be adequate. How about five hundred thousand galleons?"

Harry nodded and reached into his robe to pull out his checkbook, which he remembered to bring with him today, anticipating the need. He conjured a quill and began to write. Finishing the check with a quick signature, Harry handed the piece of paper to Mr. Burns.

The old man folded the check and placed it in his pocket before shaking Harry's hand. "Thank you, Mr. Potter. We should be able to get started immediately now. I've spoken with the Headmaster about the particulars of the tower, such as location and some basic design elements, so we should be ready to begin. If you'll excuse me?" Mr. Burns took his leave of the Potters, and departed the Great Hall. Harry and Hermione were left sitting at the table in awkwardly.

"Well that was weird," Hermione commented.

"Not to mention awkward," Harry added. "Couldn't he have picked a better time for that than while we were eating?"

Hermione finished eating and balled up her napkin and put it on her plate. As she did so, her plate disappeared magically. A few moments later, Harry did the same, and the two left the Great Hall to make their way to their first class with their first year students.

Twenty minutes later found the two professors standing in front of the first year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs.

"Alright, so we're gonna start the new term with some fun," Harry announced with a mischievous grin. "In other words, that means a project." Groans were heard from almost every student in the room. Harry's smile grew wider. "You'll also be giving presentations about your project. I know, you'll all love that. I personally hated presentations when I was in school, but I'm sure you all love them."

Hermione stepped up and put her hand on Harry's shoulder. "Stop it, Harry, you'll scare them all away. Not that they can leave, of course. This class is required. Anyway, back to the projects. You'll split into teams of two and will each be assigned a spell. You will research the spell, along with its uses and history. Then you will give a presentation to the class of at least ten minutes detailing all of the information you found as well as demonstrating the spell to the rest of us. Any questions so far?"

A hand flew up in the back of the class.

"Yes, Miss Callaghan?"

"Will we be assigned a partner?" she asked.

Hermione shook her head. "No. We think that by now you should be mature enough and know your classmates well enough to choose your own partners. But don't just choose your friends. If your friend doesn't take the class seriously, you don't want them to drag your grade down. So take that into consideration when choosing. Consider this an experiment to see how group assignments go. Any other questions? Good. Now onto what we're going to deal with today. Harry?"

"So today we're gonna start a unit on magical creatures," Harry began. "I was thinking of starting with Cornish Pixies, how about you, Hermione?" Hermione let out a snort. "I'm just joking. Actually, we'll be talking about werewolves and their weaknesses. For this, we've invited a good friend of ours to give a guest lecture. Please welcome Mr. Remus Lupin."

The doors at the back of the classroom opened and all heads turned as Remus strode down the center aisle.

"While none of you were here for it, Remus was the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher here at Hogwarts for just about two years, leaving due to unfortunate circumstances a year and a half ago. Now please give him your undivided attention," Harry finished. Harry and Hermione took a seat in two empty chairs near the back of the class and let Remus have the floor.

Remus cleared his throat before beginning. "Thanks, Harry. Now I haven't done this in a while, so forgive me if I'm a bit rusty. I'm just not used to lecturing anymore. Anyway, we're here to talk about werewolves. There are indications that Voldemort may be recruiting heavily amongst them, and you need to know everything possible about them to defend yourself if it ever comes to that. So let's start at the beginning." Remus waved his wand and a large blackboard seemed to materialize from the ceiling and form a wall behind him. It was as tall as the ceiling and as wide as the room itself.

"Now, lycanthropy, or the 'werewolf condition' is not hereditary. That is to say that it is not passed from one generation to the next by way of blood. Instead, the only way to contract lycanthropy is through being bit by a lycan. That's a werewolf. Out of respect for the victims, we will not refer to them as 'werewolves,' but as lycans." As Remus spoke, bullet points were written on the giant chalkboard, and brief notes of what he had said were also written.

"Once bitten, a person is usually infected with the condition. There are cases where the victim never shows symptoms of lycanthropy, despite being bitten. But those cases are rare. At any rate, the most widely known symptom of lycanthropy occurs once a month. On the full moon every month, every lycan transforms into a werewolf. You know what, I've changed my mind. When referring to the wolf form, I will use 'werewolf.' Otherwise, I will use lycan. Anyway, on the full moon, each lycan transforms into a werewolf. At this point, the victim literally loses their mind, every shred of humanity lost. It is instead replaced by a feral sense of animal instinct. Any questions so far?"

No hands were raised.

"That could only mean that you aren't interested or I'm doing a really good job explaining things," Remus concluded. "I'm not sure which it is. Oh well. Anyway, there is a way to maintain one's sanity while in werewolf form. It is known as the Wolfsbane potion, and taken prior to the transformation, it will allow the lycan to keep their human mind. It is quite helpful, actually.

Now, that information only applies to lycans on one day of the month. But what about the rest of the month? What are they like every other day? For the most part, you can't tell a lycan from any other person. However, they do have heightened abilities that others do not. For example, a lycan's sense of smell is far superior to a regular witch or wizard. They can smell things that others cannot. At the same time, a lycan has increased stamina and strength, making them formidable opponents in battle."

A student in the second row raised his hand.

"Yes, Mr…"

"Walpole, sir," the student replied. "I was wondering, if lycans are so tough, how do you defeat them?"

"An excellent question. Lycans have one weakness that others do not, one that can prove lethal. To a lycan, contact with silver is deadly. While it is far from the only way to kill a lycan, silver is quite possibly the most effective, should you have access to any. However, there are other ways to bring them down. The killing curse, as vile as it is, is not quite as effective on a lycan as on other witches and wizards. When struck with the killing curse, a lycan is sent into shock, but is not killed. Only a second killing curse can finish them off completely.

Should you ever find yourself up against a lycan, the most effective way of dispatching them would be through a severing charm or something similar. As I said before, a killing curse is less effective. But if you are able to sever their head, that would kill them instantly. I know it sounds gruesome, but in the heat of battle, the last thing on your mind is decency. Also, if you are ever unfortunate enough to find yourself up against a werewolf, it will be much more difficult to kill them. If they are not under the influence of the Wolfsbane potion, they will not have a semblance of a human mind. Be wary of this, and plan accordingly. The best advice I can offer to you is to run away. However, if you insist on staying, the killing curse is your best option."

Remus paused for a moment to let his words sink in before he continued to speak.

"As of right now, there is no known cure for lycanthropy, only the Wolfsbane potion, which helps with the symptoms. Now, I think that's everything I wanted to cover today, so are there any questions?"

None of the students raised their hands.

"Wow, that makes me feel really good," Remus said sarcastically.

"Actually, everything said today will be on the next exam," Harry announced. "So if you have any questions, its best to ask them now while we have the expert here instead of waiting until later."

Instantly, several hands shot up, and Remus chuckled as he began to call on the students. It took the rest of the thirty minutes in the period for all of the questions to be answered. After dismissing class and thanking Remus for helping, Harry and Hermione had a break of just over an hour before their next class. They decided to use that time to speak with Dumbledore, as their brief conversation the night before yielded very little.

As they entered the office, Dumbledore turned to face them. He had been looking out the window from his office, which conveniently faced the corner of the school where the new tower was being built.

"What can I do for you two?" he asked.

"Well, I was wondering about your eye twinkle," Harry said.

Immediately, Dumbledore's face darkened. "I am sorry, Harry, but I believe that there are more pressing matters at the moment. I'm afraid that Minerva was wanting to speak with me."

Hermione elbowed Harry before she spoke. "Actually, we're here to talk about those concentration camps."

Dumbledore's face brightened again. "I believe that Minerva can wait while we speak." Harry rolled his eyes at the older wizard's antics.

"So we both were able to transform yesterday," Hermione said, repeating what had been said the night before. "We were thinking we should be able to go scout out the camps now. But Draco can't come with us since he isn't able to transform completely yet."

The Headmaster stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Perhaps. However, I am hesitant about sending two novice animagi into a dangerous situation such as this without more practice. Harry, you spoke last week about having the goblins on your side. Do you think you could convince them to scout out the camps?"

"Most likely," Harry answered, "but from what I've heard, the goblins are better at brute force than covert surveillance. I don't think they'd be the best ones for the job. Maybe when we assault the camps we could call on them for help."

"While I believe you are getting a bit ahead of yourself there, Harry, in discussing an attack on the camps, I believe that you may be correct in your assessment."

"Just let us go," Hermione begged, earning stares from both Dumbledore and Harry. She blushed as she realized how odd that sounded for her. "Erm…I think we would be the best ones for the job," she amended.

Harry and Dumbledore smiled at her, which caused her to turn an even deeper shade of red.

"Mrs. Potter," Dumbledore began, forcing Hermione to pay attention to him instead of her own discomfort, "remember that you do not need to ask for my permission to do anything. While I always wish that you would seek my advice on matters such as these, the decision is ultimately up to you. And I do trust your sense of judgment. However, I also believe that more practice is required before the two of you are ready for this mission. But make no mistake: it is my belief that the two of you will be perfect for this assignment. In time, that is."

"So we're basically between a rock and a hard place," Harry concluded. "We have to scout out the camps to find out what's going on there and how well they're guarded. We can't just attack them first. But at the same time, every moment we waste preparing and practicing is time that another person could be killed there."

"Unfortunately, Harry, that is the situation."

Hermione had been silent for a minute. "What if you came with us?" she suggested. "To make sure nothing goes wrong? We don't want to take the whole Order with us, as that could draw too much attention. But what if it was just the three of us?"

That got Dumbledore's attention. He thought on the matter for over a minute, leaving Harry and Hermione to silently pray that he would rule in their favor.

"I agree to your terms," he said finally, "only if you two agree to do nothing reckless. You will also allow me to take control over the entire operation. When I say to disengage, you will do so. Is that understood?"

Both Harry and Hermione nodded. "I am not doing this because there are no other options, but because I understand the importance of stopping whatever plans Voldemort might have involving these camps. There are likely better alternatives that we could use, but as time is of the essence, this is the best option I can think of. Let me make some preparations and meet me back here this evening." With that, Dumbledore sat down at his desk and pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill, signaling the end of the conversation.

Harry and Hermione left the office and made their way back to their classroom, where they would wait for fifteen minutes for their next class to start. After their classes, they would return to Dumbledore's office.

Seven hours later found Harry and Hermione leaving the Great Hall once again after finishing their supper. They had used every spare moment in between their classes that day to practice their transformations up in their office. Hermione had likened it to 'cramming' before an exam, something that she normally did not do, but considering the circumstances, she was willing to do so.

As night began to fall over Hogwarts, Harry and Hermione entered the Headmaster's office for the second time that day, having made a brief stop back at their rooms to change into their Order armor. Dumbledore had finished the modifications to the ward stones, and had given Harry and Hermione each one to test the new shields for their armor. The only issue was that the armor would not protect either of them in their animagus forms. They entered the office to find Dumbledore with his wand out, and his beard slowly shrinking. His hair was also now cropped close. The two waited for a short moment as Dumbledore finished, his beard now a neatly-trimmed goatee.

"On time as usual, you two," Dumbledore observed as he placed his wand back in his solid black robes, which was unusual for him. But he paused as he took in the Potters' appearance. "No, no. That won't do at all," he said, motioning at their white suits. "You will be too easily spotted. Some simple temporary transfiguration should do the trick." He waved his wand and instantly, Harry and Hermione found themselves also clad in black.

"Now, I have taken the liberty of planning out tonight's…frivolities," Dumbledore said. "Hermione, you will be the designated scout. In your eagle form, you are the most obvious candidate. Harry's lion form would be too…conspicuous. However, under the cover of night, you could fly over the camp relatively safely. To ensure your safety, Harry and I will be a good distance away, keeping track of you. We will charm our glasses to act similarly to a pair of muggle binoculars. If anything goes wrong, we will be there to help."

Hermione nodded, only now realizing the implications of what they were about to do. She had been so excited about their mission, but only now was it beginning to resonate with her. But she steeled herself and accepted the task they were about to undertake.

Dumbledore pulled out a length of rope as a portkey. Harry and Hermione exchanged smirks and a look that questioned where Dumbledore managed to get so much rope. The Headmaster then led the other two out of the school and outside the wards. From there they used the portkey to travel to an unidentified part of the English countryside. Apparently Dumbledore had done the research about the exact locations of the camps.

They appeared amidst a grove of trees, shrouded by the darkness. In the distance, if they squinted, they could just make out the outline of some buildings, buildings that they could only assume belonged to the concentration camp set up by Voldemort.

With an almost imperceptible nod to Harry, Hermione smoothly transformed into her eagle form. As she did so, Harry realized he would have to come up with a better Marauder name for her than Mrs. Prongslet. Before she left, Dumbledore charmed his and Harry's glasses so that they could provide a closer view of the camp, while being adjustable, as well as a night-vision charm.

With the charms in place, Dumbledore signaled for Hermione to take flight. She did so, quickly leaving Harry and his great-grandfather behind. Harry kept watch over her as she flew into the distance, focusing on her glowing green form in the darkness.

Hermione glided in the night sky, gradually approaching the camp in the distance. She could easily make it out in the darkness due to her enhanced sight, so she was able to approach from a high altitude to avoid being spotted.

As she got closer to the camp, Hermione angled herself towards the ground slightly, steadily reducing her altitude. She wanted to be able to make several slow, low passes over the camp in order to possibly get a feeling for what was going on there. Finally, after soaring for several minutes, Hermione came within earshot of the camp and its series of barracks.

She could see several Death Eaters stationed around each building. There were usually one or two at each corner. For the most part, they were actually sitting, engaging in various activities such as conversation, or in one case, Hermione could have sworn she saw a pair playing some variation of poker. In total, Hermione counted four barrack-like buildings, split into two rows of two. At the head of the camp, there was one larger building in the center that looked to be some sort of administration or guard building. Trees surrounded the camp on all sides but the one behind the guard building, and just like they had seen in the photographs, fences surrounded the camp as well as each building.

Hermione swooped low over the camp, trying to memorize its layout and guard positions. Mentally, she called to the Sorting Hat back at Hogwarts, and asked it to allow her to communicate with Harry.

"Alright," she said mentally to him, "there are five buildings all together, four of which I think are for holding prisoners. There are also four Death Eaters guarding the outsides of each prisoner building. I think there may be more inside."

"Yeah, we saw that in the satellite photos," Harry replied. "But what else? Can you learn anything about what they might be doing there?"

Hermione didn't respond but instead landed on the roof of one of the barracks buildings, and tried to listen into the Death Eaters below. However, she heard nothing of interest, and instead found that the Death Eaters were discussing whether or not more homes would be burned after the campaign the Order had gone on over a week before. If she had been able to sigh in disappointment, she would have, but instead, she tread lightly over to one of the small vents in the roof and peered inside.

Inside she could make out rows of cots, even though she could only see a few because of her limited view. The light inside the room was dim, but Hermione could make out several figures lying in the cots.

"There are people in the buildings, laying in cots, Harry," she said. "That doesn't sound like something that Voldemort would do if he was just going to kill them."

"No, it doesn't," Harry responded through the link. Hermione could almost hear him stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Just a minute, Mione." Hermione sat, perched on the roof silently for a few moments before she felt Harry's presence again through the link with the Sorting Hat. "Mione, do the people in there look like they've been fed?" Harry asked.

Hermione took another look through the small vent. The people she saw inside looked healthy, as though they were simply at a muggle summer camp.

"Yeah, they do," she replied. "But why would Voldemort go through all this trouble just to kill them?"

"I don't think he's gonna kill them," Harry said. "It's something else. I can't quite put my finger on it, but I think there's something else at play here. I'm just not sure what."

"Can you see if there are any Death Eaters inside the buildings?"

"I see at least one, but I can't see very much. I'm looking through a small vent, and the view is pretty limited. Wait a second. Someone's coming."

Hermione inched her way to the front of the roof and peered over the edge as a great hulking man who appeared to be ill-kempt approached the building. She recognized him immediately.

"Harry, Fenrir Greyback's here."

"What! What could Voldemort be doing with werewolves? Oh, no. I think I know what he's up to. He's breeding his own army of werewolves. Their his own brand of super-soldiers. But why? He could just enlist the help of some of the other werewolf clans. It doesn't make sense."

"You're right, it doesn't. Let me get closer to see what I can find out."

Hermione inched her way closer to the edge of the tin roof, only barely keeping herself perched on top of it. She needed to find out for sure what they were up to in the camp. As she leaned over the edge slightly to see Greyback enter the building, she lost her footing and toppled over the edge, creating a loud racket as she did so. She tried to take flight during her fall, but couldn't manage to do so before she hit the ground ten feet below. The last thing she saw was several Death Eaters converging on her with their wands drawn just before she blacked out.

Harry saw Hermione fall through his enhanced glasses, and also saw the Death Eaters fire some curse at her as she lay prone on the ground, transforming her back to her human form. The next thing he saw was the Death Eaters taking turns kicking and firing spells at Hermione, who appeared to be unconscious. Without giving it a second thought, Harry leapt into action, springing from his hidden location with a leap. In midair, he smoothly transformed into his lion form and began to barrel at full speed towards the compound nearly a mile away.

Dumbledore, meanwhile, apparated as close to the campsite as the wards would allow, and broke into a run towards the compound. He knew he would likely be too late to help, but he could only pray Harry would be there before him.

The wind whipped through Harry's mane as he tore towards the Death Eater camp and his endangered wife. He dodged trees on both sides, his enhanced feline sight allowing him to see in the nighttime darkness. In the distance, he could see the concentration camp approaching quickly, and he could make out several Death Eaters in the main courtyard. He could only hope he wasn't too late to save Hermione.

Just over a minute later, Harry burst through the main gate of the camp, and with ferocious energy streaked towards the four figures clad in black. For the first time since he had managed his transformation, Harry let the lion inside of him take over as he brought his claws to bear on another.

Screams echoed in the night as flesh was torn.

In his primal rage, Harry tore into the Death Eaters. Blood mixed with soil to create a grisly mud. Harry left his first victim dying on the ground, clutching his open abdomen. Entrails littered the earth.

Harry turned to the next victim and tore his left arm from the socket. All that was left was a bloody stump of a shoulder. With a swift motion, Harry bit into the Death Eater's neck. With a great rip, and a shower of gore, the Death Eater crumpled to the ground.

The next Death Eater fell to the ground as Harry slashed him open from throat to waist. He was dead before he hit the ground.

The final Death Eater watched in horror as his companions were brutally dispatched. He fired a shaky curse at Harry, which was easily dodged. Harry launched himself at the man, toppling him to the ground. Harry lay on top of him and began to claw at his face with reckless abandon. Splatters of blood littered Harry's face.

The entire episode had lasted only a few seconds.

It was at this time that Dumbledore finally arrived. The sight that greeted him was one of unabashed carnage. Despite his years of experience at seeing the most terrible sights imaginable, it was all Dumbledore could do to keep from wretching right there.

The soil ran red with blood, a great lake of it formed by the collective deaths of the Death Eaters. Remarkably, from what Dumbledore could tell, the form of Hermione Potter lay untouched by the slaughter, no blood touching her. It appeared as though the Death Eaters had tried an animagus-reversal spell on her. Such spells were highly dangerous.

It was then that Dumbledore saw Harry ruthlessly tearing into the face of a fourth Death Eater. Dumbledore could see the man's leg giving one final twitch under Harry's girth, yet Harry continued to maul the carcass.

"Harry," Dumbledore said softly. Just as he reached out to touch Harry's shoulder to get his attention, over a dozen more Death Eaters came into view, likely from their posts throughout the camp. With a practiced motion of his wand, Dumbledore silently stunned all of them, buying him and Harry a good deal of extra time.

"Harry," Dumbledore repeated, touching Harry lightly. The great lion tensed up, and slowly turned to face the old wizard. Blood dripped from his fangs, and red splotches covered his face. His eyes shone with a primal fury that gave Dumbledore goose bumps. The Headmaster was sincerely frightened at that moment. But he adopted a kind tone in order to try and calm Harry down. "We cannot stay here long. We must tend to Hermione."

With a growl, Harry moved next to Hermione's still body and curled up around her to protect her. Dumbledore made a move to examine her, which only elicited another feral growl from Harry.

"Harry, I am only going to attempt to examine Hermione. I will not harm her. You know that. Trust me, Harry," Dumbledore pleaded. With a long appraising look, Harry gave an almost imperceptible nod, allowing Dumbledore to continue.

At last, Dumbledore was given access to Hermione, and had the ability to finally see her battered body. She was bruised and bloodied, but it was evident that it was not the blood of the Death Eaters, but her own that was drying on her skin. However, what frightened Dumbledore the most was the light imprint he could see on her head. With a trembling hand, he caressed the spot, only to find it softer than it should be. His breath catching in his throat, Dumbledore moved his hand to Hermione's neck to search a pulse. After pausing for a moment to be sure, Dumbledore relaxed as he felt a very weak pulse.

"She is alive," he announced, relieved. "Weak to be sure, but alive nonetheless. We must get her to Madame Pomfrey, and if need be, St. Mungo's."

At that moment, it was as if the sky opened up and great drops of rain began to cascade from the heavens. Realizing the gravity of the situation, Harry regained his human sensibilities and transformed back into his human form.

"It will not be long before reinforcements arrive, Harry," Dumbledore said softly. "We must leave this place now. If not for our sakes, for Hermione's."

Harry sat in the mud for a moment before he nodded apprehensively. He gathered Hermione up in his arms and stood shakily, before carrying her through the wreckage of the gate he had destroyed only minutes before. The two walked silently to the edge of the wards before Dumbledore apparated away to Hogwarts. With one final tearful look back at the camp, Harry followed suit and apparated himself and Hermione to the school.

Hermione Potter opened her eyes slowly. She had become so comfortable in the all-encompassing blackness that had swallowed her. It had surrounded her like a comforting cocoon, enveloping her, welcoming her to its embrace. Yet, just as she succumbed to its lure, she found herself being drawn towards a lone point of light in the distance. Before she knew it, she found herself waking again to a blinding whiteness.

Her eyes gradually adjusted to the brightness, but as they did so, she realized that she was looking at nothing. She could see nothing aside from whiteness. There were no distinguishing landmarks of note, only white stretching in infinitely in every direction. Turning around in an attempt to figure out where she was, Hermione was suddenly aware of a presence near her. Upon further reflection, she realized that the presence was not near her, but around her. It was surrounding her, filling the entire void. But it seemed concentrated behind her.

Turning around slowly, Hermione came face to face with her long-dead paternal grandfather, Gordon Granger.

"Grandpa?" she asked hesitantly, desperately wanting it to be true. He was her favorite. The grandparent all children look up to, the one who made every moment a joy, and who brought happiness to the hearts of his grandchildren.

The old man smiled kindly. "No, Hermione, I am afraid not. I chose this form for you, as Gordon Granger was a man you looked up to and cared for deeply. But I am not he."

"Then who are you?" Hermione asked, bringing her guard up slightly. Her inquisitive side was getting the best of her.

Gordon Granger chuckled. "I gave you an intellect greater than your contemporaries, Hermione, yet you do not use it. I go by many names, but in your tongue, you may call me God."

Hermione stood in awe for a moment before speaking. "But why am I here? The last thing I remember was falling from a roof."

"You are here at a crossroads, Hermione," God replied. "When you fell from that roof, you were not injured, yet you were attacked by followers of Voldemort. Though your body still lives, you are, for all intents and purposes, dead. You have a choice to go back, back to a world filled with strife and anguish, yet with the ability to make a difference, or to go onto the next great adventure. The question you face is, which path will you chose?"

"Given those options, the choice is easy. Harry needs me, I can't just abandon him. It's not my time yet."

"No, you are correct in that, Hermione. In more ways than you can know. It is not time for Harry to suffer such loss in his life, but it will come soon. The time for suffering and loss is to come, and there will be tears shed before the end, of that you can be sure."

"Can't you give us any help at all?" Hermione asked.

"You have always been one to challenge the status-quo, Hermione," God said, smiling. "In time, you will have the assistance you seek. But it is not time for that now. For now, you must press onward. Your role in this tale is a great one. If Harry Potter is to be the savior of the world, you are to be his rock and anchor. You cannot waver, you cannot falter. He trusts you with all of his being, and for good reason. Now, our time grows short. You have made your decision, and you will reawake in your body. But for now, rest."

"Wait!" Hermione said urgently, trying to stop the image of her grandfather from leaving. "I have another question. Harry always told me that I was the heir to Rowena Ravenclaw, at least magically. How is that possible? I come from a muggle family."

Gordon Granger smiled. "You must broaden your thoughts, Hermione. What is the difference between what you call a muggle and a squib? Knowledge. Everyone on Earth is descended from a magical line. Both muggles and squibs are non-magical, true. But that is the result of genetics. The only difference between them is that a squib knows of their magical heritage, while a muggle does not. Therefore, there is no such thing as a non-magical person, in the most literal sense. You are descended from Rowena Ravenclaw, however, it has been many generations since your family has seen magic. It has become a recessive gene. Now, I believe that we have talked enough. You have a husband who has not left your side. I believe you should return to him. Until we meet again, Hermione, goodbye."

As the last words trailed off, Hermione found her eyelids growing heavy, and within seconds, the brilliant white room was once again black, but this time it was due to sleep.

Two days had passed since Harry and Dumbledore had returned to Hogwarts with Hermione's still form. It was now eight in the morning, two days later, and there had been no change in Hermione's condition. Despite this, Harry had not moved from her bedside in the Hogwarts hospital wing except for to use the loo. Dobby had brought him meals, allowing him to stay at Hermione's side day and night. Dumbledore and Sirius had even been kind enough to cover his classes while he was away. The Headmaster had also mentioned that, due to the circumstances, he would enlist the help of the goblins to attack the concentration camps as soon as possible. Harry's participation was not required.

Madame Pomfrey, having examined Hermione extensively, had determined that she had fallen into a coma due to her head injuries. While the nurse had managed to repair the physical injuries she could find, she told Harry that only time would tell whether Hermione would recover. Despite their magical abilities, witches and wizards were no more able to heal a brain trauma than muggles were. That was the only reason Hermione was still at Hogwarts instead of at St. Mungo's; it would have done no good.

At that precise moment, Harry found himself reading aloud to Hermione from her favorite fiction book, Herman Melville's Moby Dick.

"'All that most maddens and torments; all that stirs up the lees of things; all truth with malice in it; all that cracks the sinews and cakes the brain; all the subtle demonisms of life and thought; all evil, to crazy Ahab, were visibly personified, and made practically assailable in Moby-Dick. He piled upon the whale's white hump the sum of all the general rage and hate felt by his whole race from Adam down; and then, as if his chest had been a mortar, he burst his hot heart's shell upon it,'" he read.

That particular passage struck home with Harry. He couldn't help but see some similarities between the Captain Ahab in the book, and himself, at least when it came to his rampage two nights prior. He paused his reading and closed his eyes, remembering that night, and the carnage he had caused. He shuddered to think that his animalistic instincts had caused that sort of devastation. But at the same time, Harry was not remorseful. He had no regrets. Hee would do it all again if given the chance, if it was to save Hermione. That is what it all came down to. That was the reason he had given himself over to the beast within. Hermione had been in danger, and he would do whatever it took to protect her.

Harry closed the book with his free left hand, his right had been holding Hermione's at every opportunity. His eyes still closed, Harry felt himself falling into the comfortable embrace of sleep, and began to let the tendrils of unconsciousness take hold of him.

Just as he was about to drift away, Harry was jerked back to consciousness by movement. But it was not just any movement, it was movement in his right hand. He opened his eyes and was met by the most wonderful sight he could remember. Hermione. His Hermione, was opening her eyes. After they had been closed for two days, the thing Harry wanted more than anything at that moment was stare endlessly into them.

"Hey," he said gently instead. "Nice of you to join us in the world of the living."

Hermione gave him a half-hearted smile. He had no idea how right he was. She tried to move and sit up, but was quickly held down by Harry.

"Don't try to move, Mione," he said. "You're still recovering from what happened. Don't try and push yourself."

Hermione nodded and laid back down, this time on her side, facing Harry. She noticed the closed book laying on his lap, and smiled.

"You remembered," she observed.

"Remembered what?" he asked, confused. She nodded at the book. "Oh, of course I remembered. Do you think I would forget something like what your favorite books are?" He puffed out his chest slightly in pride, causing Hermione to giggle painfully.

"Just…thank you," she whispered after she calmed down. She snuggled into her pillow and closed her eyes. Seeing the look of contentment on her face, Harry placed the book on the table next to the bed and rose from his seat. He walked around to the other side of the bed and lifted the sheets before sliding into bed next to his wife. He snuggled up against her, and wrapped one arm around her waist, burying his head in her hair. Harry hadn't had a restful night's sleep since Hermione had been injured, and he fell asleep almost instantly.

"Honestly, I leave you two alone for five minutes and this is what happens!"

Harry opened his eyes slowly at the shrill voice berating him. It sounded familiar, yet he couldn't place it in his stupor. As the fog clouding his vision cleared, he noticed Madame Pomfrey standing with her hands on her hips, and an angry look on her face. Harry smiled sheepishly and waved slightly with his free hand, which caused the nurse to roll her eyes in disgust.

Harry threw his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, stretching. Why he was stretching after sleeping for only a few minutes was beyond him, but it just felt like the right thing to do.

Madame Pomfrey was still glaring at him, and began to open her mouth to scold him again when Harry put his finger to his lips to silence her.

"She's back," he whispered. "She's just asleep."

Poppy's face softened as she heard this, even though her hands were still placed firmly at her hips.

"That doesn't excuse…this," she said, motioning between Harry and Hermione.

"Why not?" Harry challenged. "I haven't slept in days because I've been here. She just woke up out of a coma. So why can't I lay down next to her and get some sleep? What's so wrong with that?"

Madame Pomfrey didn't have an answer, and instead put her angry look back on her face.

It was at this moment that Hermione began to stir again. The lack of Harry pressed against her back was oddly disconcerting, and was rousing her from her slumber. She stretched slightly and yawned as she opened her eyes.

"See?" Harry said, gesturing to Hermione, who was looking at Madame Pomfrey inquisitively.

The matron snorted in contempt before pulling out her wand and proceeding to cast various diagnostic spells on Hermione. This procedure went on for over ten minutes, with Harry leaning against the wall opposite Hermione's bed, waiting patiently. By now, Hermione was sitting up against the headboard of the bed.

Finally, when she had finished her examination, the school nurse spoke to both Potters. "I cannot detect any trace of head trauma," she said. Harry and Hermione smiled broadly at each other at this news. "However," Madame Pomfrey interrupted them, "I would like for Mrs. Potter to remain in the hospital wing for another week for observation. Injuries this serious rarely heal so quickly and completely, so I would like to conduct further tests and keep an eye on you."

"Is that really necessary?" Hermione asked. "I mean, I feel fine. I feel great in fact. A little sore, but nothing that some moving around won't solve."

But Harry would have none of it. He was prone to escaping from the hospital wing when it was his own body on the line, but he would not allow Hermione to jeopardize herself in any way like that.

"No, Hermione. Listen to Madame Pomfrey, she knows what she's talking about. I think you should stay here, at least until she gives you the all-clear to leave."

Hermione's eyes widened at Harry's words. "Since when do you agree with Poppy?" she asked. Technically, the two Potters were allowed to call the nurse by her first name, as they were all three faculty members.

"Since your safety depended on it. I know I've never really been one for following her suggestions, but when it comes to you, I don't want to risk it."

"Traitor," Hermione snarled as she crossed her arms across her chest. Harry just laughed.

It was at this moment that a brilliant burst of orange flame erupted at the foot of Hermione's bed. As it cleared, it revealed the magnificent form of Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix and familiar. In his talons he clutched a piece of parchment. As Harry approached the fiery bird, Fawkes stuck his leg out, as a post owl would, allowing Harry access to the roll of parchment. As soon as Harry took the it, Fawkes once again disappeared in a burst of flame.

Once the room had cleared of flames and smoke, Harry unrolled the parchment to find a message from Dumbledore.

Harry,

I did not wish to disturb you, as the school wards alerted me to Hermione's awakening. I am extremely happy for her improved condition. Please meet with me in my office at your earliest convenience to discuss a matter of importance.

Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

Headmaster, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

P.S. This letter will self destruct in five seconds. I've always wanted to do this.

Harry read the last line and dropped the parchment instantly, where it spontaneously combusted as it hit the floor. He chuckled as he recognized the muggle reference.

"What was that?" Hermione asked. Madame Pomfrey had retreated to her office, leaving Harry alone with his wife.

"Just a note from Grandpa. He wants to talk with me as soon as I'm available. Says its something important. I think he just wanted to make an scene, so he sent Fawkes."

Hermione giggled behind her hand for a second. "Why don't you go talk to him now," she suggested afterward. "I'm not going anywhere."

"I know that, but that doesn't mean I don't want to spend the time with you. You're going to be here for another week, so I want to be here with you."

"As much as that means to me, Harry, I don't know if you really believe what you're saying. Remember, you hate it here. You hate the hospital wing, and always do whatever it takes to get out of here. I don't think you'll last twelve hours before you run screaming from this room and jump off the top of the Astronomy Tower."

"Then you underestimate me. I've been here for two days already, so don't think I couldn't do it."

Hermione smiled at him. "Just go. See what he wants, then if you're up to it, you can come back here. Not that I expect you to, however," she added with a grin.

Harry walked up to her and kissed her forehead. "You can count on it. I'll be back as soon as I'm done." With that, he went to the doors, and with one last look back at Hermione, he left the hospital wing.

It took Harry just over ten minutes for Harry to traverse the great distance between the hospital wing on one side of the school, and Dumbledore's office on the other. The gargoyle granted him access without a password, as usual, and Harry rode the stairs to the door at the top. Opening the door at the top, he found Dumbledore in a conversation with Mr. Burns, who was seated on the side of the desk opposite the Headmaster. Seeing Harry enter, Dumbledore cut his conversation with the contractor short.

"I think that sums it up quite well, Mr. Burns. However, if you would excuse me, I have a pressing matter I must attend to," he said.

Mr. Burns shot a look between Dumbledore in front of him and the newcomer, Harry. Nodding with understanding, he rose and took his leave, passing by Harry as he exited the office. Harry sat down in the chair that the old man had just vacated.

"What's going on, Grandpa?" he asked.

"I took the liberty of meeting with the goblins, as we discussed, Harry," Dumbledore began. "They agreed, since I spoke as your representative, to attack the camps. They seemed to understand the gravity of the situation should Voldemort breed an army of lycans."

"Alright…" Harry said, wondering where the new information was.

"At any rate, I received word a short time ago that the raids on the several camps were conducted last night. A battalion of goblin soldiers were dispatched to each one we knew of, with orders to kill all Death Eaters, but not harm other witches and wizards."

"So what happened?" Harry pressed.

"Nothing," Dumbledore said simply. "It appears as though the camps were empty when the goblins arrived. The buildings were still intact, but there were no prisoners or guards found in any of the camps. It appears that Voldemort moved his prisoners after our little incursion."

"So you're saying that our little scouting mission actually made it so that we lost our chance at rescuing the prisoners?" Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "Then what are we supposed to do now? We have no idea where he might have taken all of those people."

"Perhaps if you spoke to your contact within the American government, we could find out some more information," Dumbledore suggested. "Their intelligence-gathering apparatus is much more advanced than our own. Surely they must have some information that could prove useful."

"Unfortunately, I don't think Hermione and I could show our face in the Department of Magic again," Harry responded. "We sorta didn't leave on the best of terms."

"Perhaps a floo call is in order then?"

"But I thought that you couldn't use the floo system here to contact another country. I thought that each country has their own floo network," Harry objected.

"Right you are, Harry. But while each nation has their own domestic floo network, there are also connections to other nations for official purposes. The fireplace in my office here is set up for an international connection. My position as Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards requires regular international communication on my part. If you would like, you could use it for a moment. I do not believe that you would be recognized by those using the floo network, but only the security on location."

Harry nodded before rising and walking over to the fireplace on the other side of the office. He grabbed a handful of the powder and threw it into the fireplace, sticking his head in afterwards. "U.S. Department of Magic," he announced, and waited for a response.

A moment later, the face of a young female receptionist appeared. "How can I help you, sir?" she asked absently.

"I'm looking for an Agent Michael Gladstone. Is he available for a moment?"

"I'm sorry, sir, but Agent Gladstone is no longer employed by the Department. He is currently awaiting trial, but I cannot elaborate further. Is there someone else you would like to speak with instead?"

Harry was stunned into silence for a moment. "No, thank you," he replied. "Can't you just tell me what he's going on trial for? I'm sort of a friend of his."

The receptionist looked over both of her shoulders. "I hear it's treason, but I'm not sure. Sounds pretty bad if you ask me, though."

"Thank you," Harry replied solemnly. He then pulled his head out of the fireplace, ending the call.

As he sat back down, Dumbledore spoke. "That was quite fast, Harry. Is something wrong?"

"Our contact, Agent Gladstone, has been arrested and is being tried for treason, or so the receptionist said. Dammit, it's all my fault. If I hadn't copied those documents, none of this would have happened!"

"Loathe as I am to admit it, Harry, as it would only fuel your self-hatred, you are correct. I also feel compelled to inform you that the crime of treason in the United States carries the penalty of death. It is not something to be trifled with."

"Then I've got to do something! I've got to break him out!"

Dumbledore sighed. "Harry, not everything in this world is your responsibility. You are not required to solve every problem plaguing the world. What you are destined to do is defeat Voldemort. Everything else is secondary. Besides, if he is incarcerated, it is unlikely that this agent has access to the intelligence we need."

"But I caused this whole thing! He would still have a job and wouldn't be facing death if it weren't for me!"

"Are you absolutely sure of this, Harry? From what you've told me, this Agent Gladstone jumped too quickly at the opportunity to disseminate classified American intelligence. Perhaps he was predisposed to sharing secrets."

Harry shook his head. "No, that's not it at all. He said that there was something up, something wrong with their Department, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Wait, what if Voldemort has infiltrated the American government? It would make sense then to get rid of Gladstone; he was helping us."

"That would be the most logical course of action, Harry. If that were the case, it would be in our best interest to find out how deep the corruption goes, how far the conspiracy reaches."

"Gladstone would be the best one to ask about that. He has to know everything about their system. Any hope of stopping Voldemort in the Americas dies with Gladstone. And he may still know something about where the prisoners were taken as well."

"It seems as though you have made up your mind, Harry," Dumbledore observed.

"I have. I have to break him out. I have to find out what he knows, even if I'm not too fond of the man."

"Then it will be helpful to know what I know. Just as Britain has a magical prison at Azkaban, and the Germans have Nuremgard, the Americans have Alcatraz."

"Alcatraz? Wasn't that a muggle prison they shut down?" Harry queried.

"Correct. However, at one point, it served as both a magical and muggle prison. Now, the muggle portion, which is the visible portion, is open as a tourist attraction. However, deep underneath the island, the magical prison at Alcatraz remains, unseen to the general public. I believe that it is there that you will find your Agent Gladstone. It is now just approaching nine in the morning here, which means that it is nearly one in the morning in San Francisco. There will likely never be a better time."

Harry turned to leave the office, but was stopped by Dumbledore's voice.

"Harry, this is not an operation for the Order of the Gold Cross. If you do this, you do it alone. You will be invading the territory of a sovereign nation, while engaging in international espionage. If anything happens, I will deny this conversation ever took place. You will be on your own. Do you understand this?"

Harry didn't turn to face Dumbledore, and instead stood there with his back towards the Headmaster. With his hand on the doorknob, he finally spoke. "I understand."

Dumbledore nodded. "Then prepare well, Harry. Do not be hasty, and be careful."

"Thanks, Grandpa," Harry said, and left Dumbledore alone in the office.

"And good luck," the old wizard said to the emptiness.

Harry returned to Potter Tower and went straight to his and Hermione's room. He pulled a sheet off of their bed and transfigured it into a small black backpack. Into it he put his invisibility cloak, and closed it. It was thin enough to sleekly fit on his back without impeding his movement too much. Next, Harry changed into his black Order armor, complete with shield. The small ward stone hidden within the armor had enough magical energy to protect against three high-powered curses, or five lower-powered spells.

When he left the master suite, Harry was clad completely in black, with the sleek black backpack affixed to his back. He was also armed with both his normal phoenix feather wand, as well as his backup dueling wand, just in case. But before he could leave Hogwarts, Harry had one last visit to pay to the hospital wing.

Harry pushed open the doors to the hospital wing to find Hermione still sitting up in her bed, with a tray of food resting on her lap. She took one look at Harry and gave him a scowl.

"And just where do you think you're going?" she asked.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I know I said I would come back here and stay with you until you leave, but something's come up. Gladstone's been arrested, and he's facing the death penalty for helping us. I'm going to go break him out. Grandpa seems to think that Voldemort's infiltrated the American government, and that Gladstone can help us there. We can also see if he can find out anything more about where Voldemort might have taken his prisoners, since they were moved after we were there."

"Don't you think you're going about this too quickly, Harry? You're being pretty impulsive, since you haven't even had enough time to think about this," Hermione objected.

"I've had enough time to realize that every second I wait is another second that brings Gladstone closer to death. It also means that Voldemort is able to manipulate the United States against us. That has to be what he's after. Yes, I think that the portal is his end goal, but the Americans, the werewolves, destroying the Aurors at the Ministry…its all part of his game plan to weaken us and bring every ounce of his power to bear against us. Don't you see? We have to put a stop to this. And if this is how we can work towards that, then it's completely necessary."

Hermione closed her eyes and sighed in resignation. "Harry, I know better than to argue with you. I know that if you have your heart set on something, no force outside of Heaven itself could stop you. Just promise me one thing."

"Name it," he said tenderly.

"You'll come back safe," she begged quietly.

Harry walked over to her and cupped her face in his hands. "I promise," he said, sealing his promise with a long kiss on her lips.

Unfortunately, it was at this moment that Madame Pomfrey decided to emerge from her office and check up on Hermione.

"Oh, honestly!" she huffed. "What is it with you two and being so public? I'm glad I was here this time to stop it. I don't want to even imagine where this could have gone if I hadn't come out of my office!"

Harry smiled at the nurse before pulling away from Hermione. Nodding to Poppy formally, he left the hospital wing. He made his way to the Hogwarts library, where he spent a few minutes looking over maps of San Francisco and its bay, where Alcatraz Island was located. In one book, he even managed to find archived plans of the muggle facility, as well as the fact that the entrance to the magical compound deep underground was found within the lighthouse outside the main cellblock, down a hidden staircase that was invisible to muggles. Content with this knowledge, Harry then exited the school and its wards. Concentrating on the map of the island, Harry apparated off of the grounds of Hogwarts.

Harry reappeared in almost total darkness. He cast the same charm on his glasses that Dumbledore had used two days before, allowing him to see in the dark. Looking around, he found himself on Alcatraz Island, or at least what he recognized as Alcatraz Island. From what he could remember from the map and pictures in the library, he was outside the muggle portion of the prison.

Quickly looking around himself to see if there was anyone nearby, Harry knelt down and opened his backpack, pulling out the invisibility cloak. Replacing the pack on his back, Harry donned the cloak with one swift motion, practiced over years of covert operations around Hogwarts.

Hidden by the darkness and invisible to the naked eye, Harry made his way towards where he remembered the lighthouse to be. In the distance, he could make out the brightly lit skyline of San Francisco, as well as the lights on the famous Golden Gate Bridge. He realized that Hermione would have loved to come with him, if only to experience something new and see more landmarks. Shaking his head to clear it of such thoughts, Harry turned and continued on his journey. He had appeared at the main dock of the island, so it was a matter of following a winding path to the top of the island, where the main cellblock rested. Just outside that building there was a lighthouse, where the entrance to the magical prison was allegedly located.

It took just over five minutes for Harry to climb the hill, making sure to do it as silently as possible. He wasn't sure if and where any guards were posted. So far, he hadn't seen any, at least any who were visible, as this part of the island was normally open to muggles. Finally, Harry arrived at the top of the island. Behind him was the massive cell house, and in front of him was a tall lighthouse, which supposedly also doubled as a residence.

Harry magically unlocked the door to the lighthouse and entered, finding himself in a tall stairwell, with spiral stairs only going up. But he knew there was also supposed to be access underground from there, so instead of taking the stairs up, he searched the ground floor for some sort of entrance to the magical portion of the prison. After searching for a few minutes, Harry saw what appeared to be a flaw in one of the bricks that made up the wall. Upon further inspection, he realized that it was a small round hole, just small enough for…

Struck by inspiration, Harry pulled out his wand and stuck the tip into the hole. At first, nothing happened, then, after a moment, a portion of the floor underneath the stairs slid away to reveal another set of stairs going down. Keeping his wand out and at the ready, Harry began his downward trek down the stairs. He had expected the magical prison to be just below the surface, however he found that this was not the case, as after almost five minutes, he was still descending deep into the bowels of the island.

Finally, Harry reached the bottom of the stairwell, which was a small, round room not unlike the landing where he had revealed the stairs. On one side of the room, there was a large, steel door with what appeared to be an old-fashioned muggle vault lock on it. Harry magically unlocked it, and watched as it creaked open. He stepped through the door only to have it slam shut behind him, causing him to flinch at the noise. Before him, stretched a long, brightly lit hallway made entirely of concrete. Aside from the track of bright lights on the ceiling, and one on each wall, the hallway was completely bare of any decoration or distinguishing features. Unlike the hall that led into the Department of Magic, however, Harry could see the end of this one after only a few steps, despite the fact that it curved slightly. From the door, the other end of the hall was only just out of sight, though.

Compared to the other hall in Washington, this one was quite short, and only took about thirty seconds for Harry to traverse. However, once he reached the other end, he found it empty. It was a dead end. Confused, Harry inspected the wall closely, finding no flaw or weakness he could recognized. Defeated, he turned back to the hall and walked it slowly in the opposite direction, trying to find something different about the walls. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, except for something out of the ordinary for a normal wall. However, by the time he reached the door he had come through in the first place, he had found no distinguishing marks.

Figuring that there must be something else in the small round room at the base of the stairs, Harry reopened the door and stepped back outside of the hall. Instead of the room he had been in before, Harry found himself in a large, high-ceilinged room with tables spread out along the floor. There was a short, narrow hall of about twenty feet before it opened into the main common area, but Harry could see two desks, one on each side of the end of the hall, presumably security desks.

Quickly turning around to keep the door from slamming shut, Harry was only barely able to slow its movement enough to silence its closing. Successful in this, Harry made sure his invisibility cloak was still firmly over him before he set off into what he assumed was the main portion of the prison.

As he exited the short hallway, Harry saw a lone guard sitting at one of the desks. His back was turned away from Harry, facing into the main room, most likely to watch for prisoners who were trying to escape in the middle of the night. Without a second thought, Harry stunned the guard, and let him slump in his chair. Harry them quickly made his way around the desk and positioned the man so that it appeared as though he had simply fallen asleep. Stepping back after admiring his handiwork, Harry went to the computer terminal that was behind the desk.

With an unexpected level of speed and mastery, Harry quickly searched the computer for Gladstone's name. After scrolling through several pages of prisoner listings and building schematics, Harry found the name he was looking for. Gladstone was located on what was called Level C, three stories below the Entrance Level where he currently was. Returning the computer to the screen it was on when he arrived, Harry made his way to the far end of the spacious room, which he could only assume was an eating hall. At the far end, according to the schematics on the computer, there was another stairwell that led to the lower levels of the prison, where the prisoners were held.

The door blocking this stairwell was once again made of thick steel, but had a window about two feet square three quarters of the way up. It opened with no resistance or magic required, granting Harry access to the stairs within. Stepping inside, Harry found himself in small, square room that seemed to descend forever. He quickly traversed the three flights of stairs to get to Level C, which was labeled on the wall next to the door out of the stairwell. On the opposite side of the door, there was a sign describing the contents of the floor, which included prisoner's cells, as well as the prison's infirmary.

Harry stepped through the door, which closed behind him almost silently. However, there was the sound of hissing air as it closed, leading Harry to believe that the door had just formed an airtight seal.

In front of Harry, there was a large, drab, gray hallway made of concrete, with sparse lighting. A number of halls branched off of the main hall, each one labeled with a number corresponding to the cell numbers down it. Harry remembered from the terminal in the entrance area that Gladstone was being held in cell 17-9, which meant he was down corridor number 17, or so Harry assumed.

Just as Harry was about to make his way towards cellblock 17, he heard footsteps in front of him. Pressing himself up against the wall, and silently casting a silencing charm over himself, Harry waited. An instant later, a guard walked by, wand out and lit. He swept his wand back and forth, tediously searching the hallway for intruders or escaping inmates. Harry could see some sort of glasses on the guard's face, but it was only as he turned to face where Harry was that he realized what they were.

Without thinking, Harry tossed his cloak aside and barreled into the guard. Taken by surprise, the guard dropped his wand, which darkened. Harry rammed the man into the opposite wall. Still using the surprise to his advantage, Harry slammed his elbow into the guard's head, and released him, letting him slump to the floor unconscious.

Harry frantically looked around for a place to hide the disabled guard, but he found none. All of the nearby cells were filled with sleeping inmates. So Harry did the next best thing. He grabbed his invisibility cloak off of the ground and draped it over the incapacitated guard. Making sure no part of the guard was visible, Harry resumed his trek towards Gladstone. He would have to rely on old-fashioned stealth from here.

After just over a minute, Harry reached the branch in the hall that led to cellblock 17, and he took it. The cells in the hall seemed to have no door, but were instead small cubicles with a front wall made of what appeared to be glass. But Harry doubted that it really was. A few dozen feet down the hall, Harry found cell number nine, which was where Gladstone was supposed to be. As he peered through the clear wall, that information was confirmed.

Inside the cell, there was nothing but a small cot, a sink, and a toilet. No other decorations or furniture was present. Gladstone lay on the cot, wearing a bright orange jumpsuit, and from the looks of it, he was sleeping.

Harry knocked on the clear wall a few times, and to him it sounded remarkably like glass. After his third tap, he saw Gladstone begin to stir. It took him a moment to fully regain his faculties, but after he did so, he sat up in bed and stared at Harry with a bewildered look on his face.

"Potter!" he hissed quietly. "What are you doing here?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "I just thought I'd come pay you a visit. You know, in the middle of the night, wearing all black. Oh, I brought some tea and biscuits, would you like some?"

Gladstone rolled his eyes. "No, I mean what do you think you're doing?"

"I'm here to get you out, of course. Now how do you open this thing?"

"You don't. Instead, you turn around and leave. You forget you ever saw me here, and you let me be."

"I can't do that. I'm the reason you're here. Besides, I need you. There are more important things at play here than you're petty little desire to take one for the team, or fall on your sword, or whatever you call it."

Gladstone stood and walked over to the wall separating them. He put both hands flat on the wall, on either side of his head.

"Listen to me, Potter," he whispered dangerously. "This isn't the time or place for your heroics. Yes, I know that the Department's been compromised. Yes, I'd like to help fix it. But I can't. The moment I leave here, they will begin a manhunt for me that will not end at the shores of the United States. I committed treason, and as much as I appreciate your offer to help, I just can't take it."

Harry just smiled at the former agent. "So you're just going to roll over and die like an obedient little puppy, even though you know that it was a corrupt government that sent you here?"

Gladstone didn't answer, but turned his head away from Harry.

"You can't sit by and let the corruption spread, or let Voldemort take hold in the United States. What is more important, breaking a few laws, or doing something for the greater good; something that will save your country and help save the rest of the world? Just tell me how these things open, and I'll get you out of here. We'll deal with the whole manhunt thing once we come to it."

"Fine," Gladstone sighed. "The only reason I know this is because I've had to visit this place so often for the Department. Anyway, to your right, just past this wall, is a small hole. A guard's wand acts as a key. Don't think of trying to use your wand, as it'll just set off the alarm. Likewise, this wall is impervious to attack, but any magical attack will also set off an alarm. So we have to do this the right way. Just be careful, the guards have goggles on that allow them to see through invisibility cloaks and disillusionment charms."

Harry waved his hand dismissively. "It's already been taken care of," he whispered back. "Stay here, I'll be right back."

Gladstone rolled his eyes again. "Where do you think I'd go?" Harry shrugged and retraced his steps to where he left the unconscious guard. He returned a minute later, the guard's wand in his hand. Harry pressed the tip of the wand into the small hole near Gladstone's cell, just as he had done in the lighthouse, and the glass wall slid silently open.

"You know, I was wondering," Harry whispered as the door opened, "are there only two guards here to guard the entire prison?"

Gladstone didn't answer as he stepped outside his cell and looked down both sides of the corridor nervously. Harry handed him the guard's wand and the two made their way back to the main hall, where the incapacitated guard lay. Harry retrieved his invisibility cloak, exposing the guard's body. This did not concern either Gladstone or Harry, as they were on their way out, and would likely be long gone by the time he was discovered.

"No," Gladstone finally answered, "there are more. But its night, so there is only one guard per floor at any given time. They have the ability to call for reinforcements when needed, or will come when there is no answer from another guard. They all have headsets to communicate with each other. Why do you ask?"

Harry paled slightly. "Oh, no reason. I just think we'd better get out of here before they start trying to communicate with each other."

Just at that moment, the lights in the hallway turned red, and a loud, blaring alarm began to sound. Looking at each other in panic, Harry and Gladstone broke into a run towards the stairwell.

"What is it with you and setting off alarms?" Gladstone asked as they ran.

Harry jerked the door to the stairwell open and began to climb the three flights of stairs. "Just have a knack for it, I guess." He took the stairs three at a time, and Gladstone was hot on his heels. It took them only a few seconds to reach the main floor. Harry threw open the door and rushed into the room, followed by Gladstone.

"Freeze!" a voice boomed as soon as the door closed behind them. For the first time since they entered the room, Harry took a good look around, only to find them confronted by nearly a dozen guards, all with their wands drawn. He and Gladstone backed up, away from the group, until they bumped into the door they had just came through.

"Now, slowly, lower your wands," the voice commanded. From what Harry could tell, it was coming from one of the guards in the middle of the pack, but he couldn't tell which one. Seeing that they were outnumbered, Harry lowered his wand to the ground slowly, and Gladstone followed suit. They then stood back up, still with more than thirty feet between them and the guards.

With one hand, Harry tried to open the door they had just come in. It didn't budge.

"How good are you against overwhelming odds?" Harry whispered to Gladstone out of the corner of his mouth.

"Depends on how overwhelming. This? Not too bad."

Harry nodded. "Just follow my lead then."

"Fine, just don't kill them."

"I'll try my best."

The guard at the center of the group stepped forward slightly. "Now, put your hands on top of your heads where we can see them," he ordered. Harry and Gladstone did as they were asked.

As Harry put his hands just behind the top of his head, he reached into his sleeve for his backup wand. He withdrew it slowly and hid it in his right hand before nodding to Gladstone. The former agent nodded back.

"Stupefy!" Harry shouted, stunning the guard spokesman.

In a flash, the guards opened fire, but it was a moment too late. Gladstone had dropped to the ground and retrieved the wand he had been using. He had then taken shelter behind one of the tables. Harry, likewise, had ducked behind a table.

Harry gripped one wand in each hand, having retrieved his good wand, and stood again. Using his backup wand to cast shield charms, Harry opened fire on the guards, firing stunning spells without care.

Gladstone, likewise, shot off some spells of his own. However, he was not as capable as Harry was, as he only had one wand, and had to alternate between firing and shielding.

The guards, meanwhile, were not to be outdone. Instead of stunning spells, they seemed to focus on more lethal curses. It was clear that they were not in the mood to capture Harry and Gladstone. They were out to kill. But none of their curses hit their target, as they were all blocked by shields.

After a few seconds, only a few of the guards had fallen victim to Harry and Gladstone's wands. It was time to try something different.

Still shielding himself with one wand, Harry fired a blasting curse at the floor beneath the largest cluster or guards. With a great explosion, the concrete floor erupted upwards, throwing guards in every direction. Several of them hit the ground with a disgusting crunch. This tactic alone eliminated five of the guards from the battle. Now there were only four remaining.

Seeing an opportunity to end the fight, Gladstone levitated one of the thirty foot long tables into the air and hurled it at the remaining guards. The four were bowled over and crushed under the weight of the table.

In an instant, the hall grew quiet once again.

"I thought you told me not to kill them," Harry commented, breaking the silence.

Gladstone walked over and checked for a pulse on the guards he had just crushed under the massive table.

"They'll live," he said apathetically. "Now let's get out of here."

They crossed over the holes in the floor from Harry's blasting curse, avoiding the reinforcing bars that were protruding at every conceivable angle, as well as chunks of concrete and steel. The next room ended up being the white corridor, which Gladstone explained was a security measure. It was a room that moved and allowed access into and out of the prison. However, it was timed, so that an escaping prisoner would be delayed until guards could arrive. The two walked the length of the hall a few times before trying the door and exiting into the lighthouse. A minute later, the two found themselves on the outside portion of the island.

"It won't be long until the Department sends in the Preventers," Gladstone commented. "Those guards down there were nothing. Think of it as the British SAS against the regulars. Nothing against the regulars, but the SAS is something to behold. If those guards had been Preventers, we wouldn't have stood a chance."

"Then we'd better get out of here," Harry suggested.

"Wait, Potter…Harry. I think it would be best if I stayed here. Not in Alcatraz, but in the U.S. We need to get to the bottom of this conspiracy, and I have an idea of who's involved. I won't do any good being outside the country."

"But you're wanted. You just attacked a dozen prison guards in your escape. How innocent does that make you look? You're a marked man at this point. You aren't safe here."

"Harry, you underestimate me. I've been in the magical law enforcement business for almost twenty years. Went in right after high school. Don't think I haven't learned a thing or two to help me survive. I know how to stay under the radar. I can disappear. I still have some friends in the Department who'll help me, and send me information."

"You know, that sounds kinda like what you told me just before Hermione and I left before. Something along the lines of 'I'm too senior for that,' and 'they won't arrest me sight unseen.' Looks like that didn't pan out, did it?"

Gladstone flushed red. "No, but that's only because there's someone in the Department who's out to stop us." The last word struck a chord with Harry. He had never expected Gladstone to use the term 'us' when referring to the movement against Voldemort. His respect for the man grew instantly.

"Us, you say?"

"Yeah, I figure that since I'm a wanted man now, and you broke me out of prison, the only thing I can do is work against Voldemort and try and bring him down. Try and clear my name somehow. If joining up with you is how I do that, well, there could be worse options."

"Alright," Harry said, grasping the older man's hand. "I'll leave you here and trust you to look after yourself. But I want constant updates on what you've found out. Also, I need any intelligence you can give me. Voldemort moved his prisoners out of the concentration camps after he found out we knew about them. I need to know where he's taken them. Finally, we think there is a spy in our ranks. I have a strong feeling about who it is, but we have no proof. If you can find out anything, that'd be great."

"Will do," Gladstone said as he nodded. "But in return, I'll need your help if I find a way to take out the conspiracy here. If I find out who's behind it, I'll need you to help. But at the same time, I'll be working to get some people who think the same as me together. Maybe we can do more good together than separately."

"Good. I've got to get going though," Harry said, glancing at his watch. It was still charmed to adjust to time zones automatically, so it was reading that the time was just after two in the morning. "I've got a wife who just woke up out of a coma to get back to."

"I know how it is," Gladstone commented. Harry's eyes widened. "What? You didn't think I had a family? I have a wife and two sons. But I can't let them get involved with this. They're too important for that. As much as it pains me to say it, I can't see them until this is over. So what say we kick that slimy son of a bitch's ass so we can get back to our lives?"

Harry laughed uproariously at Gladstone's language. For once, he was glad Hermione wasn't present at the moment. "Sounds like a plan, Mike," he said. "See you around."

With a nod towards Gladstone, Harry apparated off of Alcatraz Island, and back to the Hogwarts grounds.

Gladstone was left alone in the cool breeze, taking in the skyline of San Francisco in the middle of the night while leaning on the metal railing at the edge of the island. He stood there in silence for several minutes. Thoughts of his wife Hannah, and their two sons, ten year old Jeremiah, and seven year old Ethan, filled his mind, as did the fact that he had no idea when he would see them again. They most likely thought him to be a traitor to the United States, when he was the epitome of a true patriot. But he couldn't set the record straight. He couldn't drag them into this mess. And so he would suffer as a result. They would suffer. With a sad sigh, Michael Gladstone took one last look at the beautifully lit city, before he too apparated away.

End of Chapter 25

A/N: Just a few notes I wanted to mention. As I was writing this chapter, I got the feeling that the last few chapters feel a bit too…episodic. By that I mean that they seem to be almost random events tied together by a common storyline. Maybe it's just me, or the way this system works by writing and publishing one chapter at a time. I'm not sure, since this is my first story. Anyway, I just wanted to mention that the events of the last few chapters, as random as they may seem to some of you, do fit into a larger storyline. Have no fear. I'm just giving you all of the pieces of the puzzle now, and in a few chapters we'll be able to zoom out and find out what picture they've made. I don't know if that makes sense or if I'm just being overly critical of myself. There are only a few planned chapters left, and everything will begin to be put together, and the loose ends tied up.

Anyway, please review and let me know what you think!