Chapter 25: Lining Up Pieces

Late morning finds Draco, Tracey and Hermione in a sitting room, the curtains thrown open to allow in the natural light of late July. The ex-Slytherins play a game of wizarding chess and Hermione finds them more entertaining than the book she's reading. Their insults veiled as advice definitely keeps things interesting.

"I'm not sure that is a good move for you Knight," Tracey suggests lightly. "Though it would probably be a move that Weasley would approve of." She appears thoughtful.

"Weasley, surprisingly, can actually play a decent game of chess," Draco answers in the same tone. "His strategies might be able to improve your game." Hermione hides behind her book as she fights giggling.

"Something to say, Granger?" Tracey asks, moving her bishop to take the knight only to have her queen taken through the opening created by the moved bishop.

"Not at all," she laughs. Tracey narrows her eyes at the space that housed the queen before, then glanced around the board.

"So is this how you spend your days?" she asks.

"For now," Hermione answers.

"Arrangements being made?" she presses, moving another piece to protect her king.

"Erm...soon, we just need…" Hermione glances at Draco. Draco snorts at her discomfort but doesn't look away from the game.

"We need the go ahead from the Prophet Luna," Draco say. "And check." Tracey's eyes who looked to the other witch at the word 'prophet' snap back to the game.

"What?"

"The prophet or the check?" Draco asks smugly.

"You little bastard," she murmurs. Hermione giggles as Tracey turns to the game again, giving it her full concentration. Prophet's can wait, chess cannot. It is only a few more moments before she tips her king over with a frustrated sigh. Draco smirks.

"What is this about a prophet?" she asks, turning to Hermione.

"That'll be me," Luna says, striding into the room, Harry and Ron trailing behind.

"Perfect timing," Draco says, raising a single eyebrow. Luna smirks and offers him a wink.

"What exactly is a 'prophet?'" Tracey eyes Luna cautiously.

"A pain in the arse, really," she answers. "But more specifically, the one who's going to help her," Luna points at Hermione, "survive another war and make peace with the past. Him," she points to Ron, "let go of prejudice and settle down a bit. Him," Harry, "win a war and learn to take care of himself better. Him," Draco, "stay true to who he wants to be, not just who he was told to be. And you," pointing to Tracey, "I'm going to help you get revenge for your mum."

Tracey's eyes go wide for a split second before narrowing.

"How?"

"Do you know who they were?" Luna ask. Tracey shakes her head without taking her eyes off the blonde. "I do. I can also tell you where they will be and when. As well as the best opportunity to enact said revenge."

"Again, how?" Luna smile at the girl.

"Possible futures, I see them all," Luna replies simply.

"So you're not weird?"

"Oh no, I am definitely weird," Luna answers with a laugh. "I just have a little something else on top of it." Tracey shrugs. Luna turns to Hermione. "It's time to start planning."

"Finally," Hermione sighs. Draco sits on the couch beside Hermione and Tracey in the chair on the other side. Harry and Luna settle on the loveseat facing the couch with a high backed chair pulled up on the side for Ron to sit.

"So first we need to plan the battle," Luna says airily. "When we want it, where and how to get everyone there?"

"The dark lord isn't going to show for a pitched battle," Draco adds. "Not unless there is something he wants really bad and he believes the odds are stacked very much in his favor."

"You would know, wouldn't you," Ron mumbles under his breath. "Ow," he jumps, looking at Hermione angrily. She returns it with a confused look. Ron glances around the room-all looking slightly concerned, some only for his mental health-then settles down once more. A smirk spreads across Tracey's face for the briefest of moments when no one is looking.

"What if I offer him the chance to kill me?" Harry ask. Hermione shakes her head.

"He'll know it's a trap," she replies.

"What about the snake?" Ron asks. The memory of the attack on his father still not fading. "Wouldn't he come for that?"

"Two problems," Draco starts, "One, it would be a suicide mission just trying to get the snake, but two, he wouldn't risk it. He knows we know about the horcruxes and that five are destroyed. He wouldn't risk having the last horcrux destroyed and getting killed all at once. He's arrogant, but cautious enough."

"Then how do you suggest," Ron snaps. Draco takes a moment, thinking.

"Death Eaters fall into a four categories: the sadist, the power-hungry, the followers, and the blackmailed. Which of those sound like foolhardy, charge into the fray type?" Draco poses. The silence that follows is broken by him answers his own question. "None. None of the Dark Lord's followers are people who would show up for a pitched battle. They only show when the odds are stacked ridiculously in their favor."

"Then how do we get Voldemort there?" Hermione asks. Draco smirks.

"The taboo," he replies.

"When does it get put into effect?" she asks, catching on.

"It was two months last time, but I'm not sure," he replies.

"86% that he puts it in on Sunday, 11% Saturday and 3% Monday," Luna says lightly. Harry looks back and forth between Luna, Draco, and Hermione.

"What's a taboo?" he asks.

"A taboo is a spell keyed to a specific word or phrase that when spoken, certain people can apparate to where it was said. Voldemort used it to find people who weren't scared to say his name. Last time line, he used what they called snatcher to grab people when they said his name," Hermione explains.

"Voldemort or Tom?" Harry asks.

"Voldemort and Tom Riddle." Harry nods.

"So what's this idea?" Harry says. Hermione looks to Draco, but he motions for her to speak.

"Well if you triggered the taboo, the snatchers would come to you," she says. "You could put a few out, really sell it, but one or something escaping would immediately go back and report where you are. If they think you messed up, he'll come out to defeat you, not knowing it was a battle."

"But," Draco drawls, "it would have to be a place where you couldn't just disapparate from or else they wouldn't believe he was still there. Also, we would probably have to have had a few close calls leading up to it or something because everything going perfectly and then all the sudden you screw up is too suspicious."

"Hogwarts?" Tracey asks. "The snatchers could see he was there, but wouldn't be able to get to him without bringing down the wards. He wouldn't be able to leave if they were watching and they could venture that he thought he was safe there."

"I really didn't want to do this at Hogwarts again," Hermione sighs. Draco places a hand on her knee and squeezes lightly.

"We could hide our forces in the castle," Ron says. "But they could run a diagnostic to see the number of magicals." He frowns at his own revelation.

"Is there a way to hide that?" Harry's question turns all eyes to Gryffindor girl.

"There might be," Hermione starts slowly, "but I don't know of one. We would need to research to see what we could find." Ron sighs.

"You'd start in the Black Library?" Luna asks, sliding her eyes close.

"Yes," she answers.

"Starting in the north-east corner...and…" Luna's eyes pop open. "You'll find it in there."

"Could you be a trifle more specific?" Tracey asks.

"No."

"Okay, then," Tracey says with the roll of her eyes.

"When shall we have it?" Luna asks.

"How far can you see?" Draco counters. Luna smiles in return.

"As far as we need to, but the further away the less sure it is," she replies in her patented airy voice. "Of course it will take meditation to find, but I need to know at least the week of the month that you wish to plan for."

"The students will be back September first and that's only four weeks away," Harry says.

"Not enough time," Draco chimes in.

"Why? Or do you just want to give you master more time to figure things out?" Ron spits. Draco rolls his eyes, but doesn't say anything.

"Enough," Hermione scolds. Ron goes to say something, but wisely closes his mouth when she glares.

"It'll be almost a year before the castle is empty of students again," Tracey gets them back on the subject.

"Too long," Hermione says.

"Agreed," Harry adds.

"But we can't have the battle with all the students hanging about," Tracey presses. Hermione looks to Draco and he nods.

"We will have to evacuate," she says.

"That might tip our hand," Tracey adds.

"Perhaps we could combine it with the taboo plan," Draco offers. When they all look to him, he continues, "If Harry was to trigger the taboo outside of the wards and then hurry in with the arrival of the snatchers, they would assume he fled to safety, but ended up trapped. Evacuating the school would be just another spur of the moment decision to stay safe."

Hermione's eyes meet Draco's, understanding passing between them. That had been how it happened before, only it wasn't a skillful plan to trick Voldemort, but rather stumbling forward trying to stay alive. It hadn't been enough.

Tracey clears her throat, bring their attention back to the group.

"So we still have to pick a time," Hermione says.

"How much time do you think we need?" Tracey asks Draco. He looks off in the distance, wheels turning in his head.

"Three to five months," he replies. "Any more and the dark side will have gained enough momentum to counter any progress preparing more might allow."

"That means sometime in November or December," Tracey concludes.

"Fighting in the snow? That will be fun," Hermione grumbles.

"There are some runes to counter that," Draco encourages.

"Last week in November," Harry says to Luna.

"Alright, I'll let you know," Luna says, rising and walking out the door. Harry smiles after her, then follows her out, shaking his head slightly.

"Rematch?" Tracey asks, pointing to the board. Draco smirks. Ron rises from his seat in a huff and stalks to the door.

"I'll be back," Hermione says quickly before dashing after him. She grabs his elbow and pulls him to a stop. "Can we talk?" He shrugs, but allows her to lead him into a study. Ron leans against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. Sitting on the edge of the desk, Hermione's eyes slip over him.

"You died," she says suddenly, without really knowing why. She just wants shake him, to make him understand. He looks shocked. "Your mum died, your dad, Bill, Fleur, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George-"

"I get it," he snaps. "Everyone died."

"But yet here you stand," she whispers, not even sure if he could hear her. "Everyone is alive again. Yet...somehow...I feel just as empty as when I lost everyone I loved."

"'Mione…"

"Perhaps I should be grateful they didn't have much time when they came for me this summer," she continues. "They knew that someone could be by anytime, that there may have been measure to keep me safe me. But Tracey wasn't so lucky." Ron swallows, going pale. "They took their time, made her parents suffer, made her watch. The things they did…" Her voice catches in her throat.

"She told them no," Hermione continues once she can. "She ran knowing what waited for her if she got caught, knowing her fate would be no better than her mother's. And the first moment she's safe you accuse her of being a Death Eater."

"I didn't know," Ron defends.

"I know Ron, but this has to stop. Tracey is not the enemy. Draco is not the enemy. The enemy is out there." She points wildly at the outside wall. "It is Vol-You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters. I don't know if this will work. I don't know if we can win. But if we are fighting each other then we don't stand a chance. And I-I can't, Ron, I can't do it again, can't go through it." Hermione dissolves into sobs and he push off the wall to wrap his arms around her.

"Shh," he whispers, patting her back. "It's okay." When she's finally calm, he steps back.

"Hermione," he says softly, "it wasn't three years of war for me. I didn't watch everything change and fall apart. I didn't see Death Eaters with a haunted and regretful look in their eyes. It was a day for me. Slytherins were the enemies."

"Ron," she starts. He shakes his head.

"How many of them do you think are getting marked as Death Eaters now?" he asks.

"I don't know."

"Slytherins were the enemies, but now you want me to just change all that? I can't be sure that they aren't. Maybe not in three years, but right now..."

"'Though condemned I am to split you, still I worry that it's wrong. Though I must fulfill my duty and must quarter every year, still I wonder whether sorting may not bring the end I fear,'" Hermione quotes to him.

"'Mione?"

"The sorting hat sang that," she says softly. "When did it become them and us? We were eleven years old and a magical hat sifts through our heads and says which house we belong to, which family." She sits down in the desk chair, suddenly exhausted. "That's all well in good, but then there are the rivalries. Merlin, even if there wasn't a war, how many years out of Hogwarts before you aren't defined by a house assigned you at eleven? Do people ever forget?"

Ron leans heavily on the desk and shakes his head.

"A Ravenclaw: smart, clever. A Hufflepuff: kind, loyal. But Slytherin? They're known as evil, as manipulative, as cowards, as the enemy. When does it end? If we win this war...if we were finally free of the threat of that one man...will we still judge by the Hogwarts house someone is in? And if we always will, can we ever really win?"

"I thought this was a war against You-Know-Who," he smirks. Her lips lift in return, but her heart's not in it.

"It's a war for freedom," she whispers. "For people to be judged by who they are, not who their parents were. So that people can't hide behind mask or money or pure blood labels and do horrible things and never be punished. People should be safe. But how is Lucius Malfoy saying I'm less because my parents were muggles any worse than saying Draco is the enemy because a hat saw ambition at eleven years old?"

"How do you know that that ambition will not turn him against us?" Ron presses.

"Ambition is not bad, Ron. You could easily say that about a Ravenclaw who would think going to the Dark Lord was the smart thing because they're winning. We're defined by our choices, Ron, not our houses and Draco and Tracey choose to be here."

"I can't promise I'll like the bloke," he says.

"If the snide comments about them working for You-Know-Who and being evil could stop, I would be happy," she offers. Ron shrugs and smiles.

"I'll see what I can do." She stands and hugs the redhead.

"Thank you."