I'd like to thank brianna-xox, fredfred and Otium for betaing. They improved the story a lot.

Chapter 35: Night of the Dead

'After the Battle of the Ministry, many expected the Muggleborn Resistance to recruit as heavily as the Dark Lord and the Ministry itself. Indeed, after taking so many casualties - relatively, given the small number of Resistance members - it would have seemed only logical. And yet, that did not happen, for several reasons.

The muggleborn population was still in hiding, not many of them trusting the agreement with the Ministry yet. That made finding recruits difficult - the Resistance Radio could reach the muggleborns, but its audience could not contact the Resistance. Especially since there was still the risk of agents of the Dark Lord, mind-controlled or voluntarily, using such recruiting attempts to strike at the Resistance. Although that alone would not explain why the Resistance did not recruit among the students at Hogwarts during their stay there. At the school they could safely meet potential recruits. That they did not recruit there is a strong indication that, for all their claims about fighting for equality before the law, the Resistance were as biased with respect to blood status as their enemies, and refused to recruit half-bloods and purebloods.'

- Excerpt from 'Wizarding Britain in the 20th Century' by Albert Runcorn

Salisbury, Wiltshire, Britain, January 18th, 1997

"You have served me well, Severus. Your information about Dumbledore's phoenix would have granted me victory, if not for his brother."

The Dark Lord Voldemort smiled at his spy. He hadn't missed how the man had looked around - he was probably trying to find out where they were, but the cellar of the safe house to which the Dark Lord had taken him offered no clue about its location - only conjured furniture appropriate for this meeting. The man could be simply curious and cautious, looking for a way out if anything happened - or he could be working to betray Voldemort.

"I beg your forgiveness, milord. I was unaware that the Headmaster's brother was willing to help him, nor did I know how skilled he was." The potioneer bowed deeply.

"Blood will tell, Severus. Family matters," Voldemort said. "It takes a lot to sever those bonds. Only the deepest betrayal will achieve that. Dumbledore might have publicly distanced himself from his unsavory brother to further his ambitions, but it's obvious that his brother has been working for him." He chuckled. "The disgraced Dumbledore would have been able to approach people the Chief Warlock couldn't. An ingenious set up." He wondered if Dumbledore's brother had volunteered for this, or had been forced into it.

"I see, milord." Snape nodded, stiffly though.

"You doubt my reasoning?" The Dark Lord let the smallest amount of menace creep into his voice. After his recent setback, some of his followers might be wavering in their faith in him.

"No, milord. I was merely wondering how best to deal with this."

"Do not concern yourself with that. I have a more important task for you." A task that would show him on which side his spy truly was. It would put Snape at risk, but that was an acceptable price to be paid to be certain of the wizard's loyalty. He had not needed to know before, but with so many of his followers dead, he could no longer ignore the opportunities Snape could offer him - or the danger. It would be easier to simply sift through the man's mind, if not for the fact that the spy had been hiding his true allegiance from either Dumbledore or Voldemort for years. Considering Snape's skill at Occlumency, discerning his real thoughts from those faked for his facade would be nigh-impossible without an effort that might irreparably damage his mind.

"I live to serve you, milord!"

"Indeed." Voldemort smiled. "But first, tell me about the situation at Hogwarts."

"Dumbledore has brought those members of his Order who were wounded in the battle at the Ministry to Hogwarts for treatment. He seems to distrust St Mungo's," Snape started to report.

Which was, of course, only to be expected - Dumbledore would know that Voldemort had spies and agents in St Mungo's who'd be able to let a blood traitor 'succumb to their wounds'.

"The most prominent are Arthur Weasley and three of his sons - William, Percy, and Ron."

The Dark Lord frowned. Ron Weasley was Potter's friend. That boy had been at Hogsmeade too.

"Then there are several of the French allies of the Order. I have not yet found out their names." Snape pressed his lips together under Voldemort's faint glare, then continued. "And the Mudbloods have been invited as well, not just to treat their wounded, but to recover at the school."

Voldemort nodded. "He has abandoned the charade that they are anything but his tools, then."

"Yes, milord." Snape bowed again.

"Good. We can use that to show the truth to some of those who doubt us even now." He gestured to the other wizard to continue.

"Today, Xenophilius Lovegood was also moved to the infirmary at Hogwarts."

That was a surprise. Why would Dumbledore reveal that the editor of The Quibbler was working for him? It would serve Voldemort's enemy better if the public remained ignorant of that, and thought the magazine independent. Or was the Headmaster trying to make Voldemort believe that Lovegood was a member of the Order? He needed to consider this some more. "Anything else?"

"Not yet, milord. We teachers are supposed to continue as if nothing had happened, even though all the students are doing is talking about the battles."

"Dumbledore is trying to keep up appearances. No matter. Let us now talk about your task." He smiled, and leaned back in his seat. "I need a young pureblood wizard child as a sacrifice." He saw that Snape's eyes widened, and he grew tense - but was that because of the task he was to undertake, or because he was aware of how much of a risk it would be for him? "With most pureblood families hiding from mudbloods or my faithful, you, amongst all my followers, are in the best position to take one of the blood-traitors' children and bring it to me." He smiled. "No one would think it too suspicious if one of the children, maybe a recent orphan, was distraught enough after the recent events to run away."

Snape slowly nodded. "Yes, milord. It might take me a while to arrange matters, with the mudbloods and so many of the Order in the school, but I will manage it."

"Failure is not an option, Severus." Voldemort dismissed him with a gesture.

As soon as the man had disappeared, Voldemort left the location as well, apparating to his real safe house. The die had been cast and now it remained to wait and see what came of it. If Snape brought him a child, then Voldemort could be assured of the man's loyalty - Dumbledore would never allow that. But if he was a traitor… Voldemort had taken a few precautions for such an outcome.

He glanced at his desk, and the skull set upon it. Maybe he should spend some time to find a ritual that could actually use a child sacrifice. It would be a shame to let such an opportunity go to waste, should Snape prove his allegiance to Voldemort. He nodded - yes, he would set Rookwood on this task.

Hogwarts, January 18th, 1997

Albus Dumbledore knew that Severus was troubled as soon as the young wizard entered his office. The man was a good actor, but Albus knew him too well. "Good evening, Severus."

The other wizard just nodded curtly and sat down. Another sign that things were not well. Although they were not too bad, either - Severus was still alive.

The Headmaster didn't have to wait long. "He wants me to prove my loyalty, and deliver a child as a sacrifice to him!"

Albus took a deep breath. He had hoped that Severus would be able to gain Tom's trust thanks to his spying and his skill with potions, that the deed the younger wizard had done to earn his mark, and his past services in the last war, would be enough, but the odds hadn't been that good to start with. "I see."

Severus was looking at him. Albus knew what his friend was asking, and shook his head. Some prices were too high to be paid for anything.

"He'll kill far more than one child, if he's not stopped," the younger wizard said.

"That is likely," Albus admitted. "But by no means certain."

"Really? You think you can kill him before more people die?" Severus shook his head, sneering.

"If a plan of mine bears fruit, yes." Albus inclined his head. He saw Severus clench his teeth in frustration. The Headmaster knew that his friend hated that he didn't know what else Albus was planning, but as a spy, he could not know about Albus's plans with Harry. The risk of Tom finding out was too great.

"If, Albus, if." Severus was shaking his head. "I'm so close. He has lost so many of his followers, if I can gain his trust…"

"But at what cost?" Albus frowned. He knew what his friend was thinking. One life against dozens, maybe hundreds. He had thought so himself, once. And, at times, you had to weigh lives. Send people to die so others would be saved. Any leader in a war knew this. But to pick a child, and deliver it to be murdered… no, that was unacceptable. "You cannot sacrifice an innocent child. Not without dooming yourself." A price Severus would gladly pay, Albus knew, if it meant the death of Voldemort. His spy did not expect to survive this war.

"A child who's not innocent then." Severus sneered. "There are those who have blood on their hands."

"You know that they would not qualify as children. Not for what the Dark Lord has in mind." He gently shook his head. "It would be for naught, since you'd lose his trust for making such an obvious mistake."

Severus hissed in frustration. "A volunteer, then. Polyjuice to appear as a child. I'll deliver him to the Dark Lord, and we strike."

"And who do you think would be able to stand up to the Dark Lord long enough to make a difference? Apart from me," Albus asked.

"Your brother. Moody. Anyone. We only need to last long enough to keep the Dark Lord from fleeing until you arrive with the Order." Severus looked at him, pleadingly. Albus's friend knew that if he failed this task, he would not be able to spy on the Dark Lord any more. All his efforts, all his sacrifices, would have been wasted. And, worse, he wouldn't be able to find the redemption he so craved.

"He'll be behind wards," Albus said.

"Granger can blow them away."

Of course Severus would have studied the attacks by the Resistance, Albus thought. "At great risk to the warded structure, and its inhabitants."

"A risk I'll take. Gladly."

"The Dark Lord will expect such an attack. If not from you, then from others. That is why he always meets you at different locations." That was why Albus had not intended to try such a ploy until he knew where Tom was living.

"That can be dealt with with a suitable distraction. If he thinks you are occupied elsewhere, he'll think he can deal with any attack." His friend was leaning forward.

"I would have to be away from Britain, and yet visible to the public. And the ICW takes a dim view of using Polyjuice to send proxies." Albus smiled. One or two delegates had tried that in the past.

"Have your brother pose as you, and attack some warded mansion in Albania then." Severus took a deep breath, visibly trying to calm himself. "Albus, please."

"You will almost certainly die, Severus," he said. "Do you think this is worth it?"

The younger wizard simply nodded.

His friend was set on this course of action, the Headmaster realised. Even though it would very likely cost his life. And the life of another volunteer. Even if he refused, Severus would go through with it. Albus considered volunteering himself, but discarded the notion at once. The risk was far too great, and would only serve to alleviate the guilt he'd feel over letting two people sacrifice their lives for a very slim chance of destroying Voldemort's body. He had far greater sins for which to atone, still, and Britain yet needed him too much for him to throw his life away like that. He closed his eyes and sighed. "Very well. If you, we, find a volunteer, I will be ready to attack the Dark Lord once you meet him."

"Thank you." Severus's smile was thin, but the man's satisfaction and relief were quite obvious to Albus - and painful. He told himself that his friend wanted this, wanted to die to finally achieve some sort of redemption, but it didn't help.

Hogwarts, January 19th, 1997

Hermione Granger checked the privacy spells in the unused classroom the Resistance had taken over. She had done that twice already, but even at Hogwarts, you couldn't be too careful. And it gave her something to focus on while she waited for the rest of the Resistance to arrive.

There they were. Justin entered, followed by Sally-Anne, who was levitating Jeremy, to her surprise. Louise stayed at her friend's side. Behind them were Tania and Seamus, not quite leaning on each other, but close enough, and Colin and Dennis, limping. John brought up the rear.

"Madam Pomfrey was quite put out with us taking Jeremy with us," Justin said.

"I'm not her student," Jeremy said in a tight voice. "And this is important."

He was hiding just how much he was suffering, Hermione knew, but she nodded. It was his decision. When everyone had sat down - or at least managed to get somehow comfortable - she cleared her throat. "I should have done this sooner, but not all of us were ready for a debriefing." She pointed her wand at the blackboard behind her, and revealed the first of the maps she had prepared. "The mission's primary objective was to stop the Dark Lord's forces from taking over the Ministry. Secondary objectives were to destroy the enemy forces, save the Wizengamot members and Ministry employees allied to our cause, and to improve our standing among the hitherto neutral pureblood and half-blood population."

"Dying for public relations," Seamus muttered.

Hermione suppressed the annoyance she felt at being interrupted. "We're in a civil war. Almost all of those are decided by winning over the population. Showing that we're fighting the Death Eaters, beating them, and saving our friends is a big step in that direction."

Seamus was about to say something else, but Tania put her hand on his arm, and he settled down. Interesting, Hermione thought. And encouraging, if Tania could influence the Irish wizard. "We achieved all our objectives. In that, we were successful. However, we lost many of our friends." She couldn't talk about casualties and losses, not when talking about Dean and Mary, or Louise, Jeremy and Tania. "Too many. And their deaths could have been avoided."

Seamus looked up, staring at her. Justin frowned. "How?"

She took a deep breath. "We entered this battle without being sufficiently prepared. We hadn't trained with our allies, and were not ready for the tactics of our enemies. I should have anticipated the poison, and the enemy breaking through the ceiling."

Seamus muttered something in response to her statement that she didn't catch, but Tania whispered into his ear. Hermione would have to ask her later, probably. "Further, four of us were wounded, one of whom will take a month to recover." She didn't look at Colin and Dennis, who didn't know when they'd recover. If they would ever recover, a small voice in the back of her head added.

"I'll be fine sooner than you expect," Jeremy said. Louise's frown belied his words, though.

"We need to discuss how to avoid similar mistakes in the future, and how to improve our own tactics - and how to rebuild." Otherwise, another such loss would mean the end of the Resistance.

"We could start with not trying to save the purebloods!" Seamus snapped. "We should have simply let them kill each other, then mopped up the survivors!"

"What? How can you say that?" Justin yelled. "It's not about blood!"

"We have many pureblood friends in Hufflepuff and Gryffindor!" Sally-Anne added.

"Really? What kind of friends let us fight and die, while they stay safe at Hogwarts?" Seamus sneered, shrugging off Tania's hand on his arm while he jumped to his feet. "Dean and Mary died, saving those worthless purebloods!"

"They're students," Louise said, "not Aurors or Hit-Wizards."

"We were students too, until they kicked us out," Seamus retorted. "If we can do it, they can do it."

"So, are you suggesting that we recruit those students?" Hermione fought to ask calmly, and not snap at Seamus. He had just lost Dean, she told herself. "I'm certain if we ask, a number of Gryffindors and some Hufflepuffs will join us." Seamus hesitated, and Hermione went on. "Or is it about the blood? Do you think blood means that much?" She didn't have to add 'like Death Eaters?' - Seamus knew what she meant, and so did everyone else.

"No," he spat out, "I didn't mean that. But it's not right that we died to save people who don't care about us and a month ago would have applauded if we had all been killed."

That was received with several nods from the rest of the group. Hermione couldn't disagree with the notion either. "I don't like it either," she said. "But we need to focus on winning this war. And that means we have to make compromises." And sacrifices, she added in her head. "We need the support of half-bloods and purebloods."

"More support in the field would be good," Seamus said. "Most of the dead were ours, and the French."

Hermione had noticed that as well. She had considered the possibility that this had been by design - to weaken the Resistance, and use expendable foreigners - everyone knew the French wizards were too brave for their own good - while preserving the purebloods of the Order. But she trusted Dumbledore not to betray them like that. And it didn't make any sense for him to use such ploys when the outcome of the war was still in doubt, and he couldn't be certain that he would not need the Resistance again for a crucial battle. The war would only end when Voldemort was dead for good, and she knew that Harry was not yet ready for that confrontation.

So she shook her head. "Dumbledore doesn't have that many fighters. A lot of the best Aurors supporting him died in that trap in East Sussex, and most of the rest, as well as many Hit-Wizards, were probably killed in the Ministry before we arrived."

"Yes," Louise said. "That was a massacre. Between that and the withering curses, I don't think Dumbledore has many wizards and witches left who can fight as well as we can, or the French."

"Or the Weasleys," Hermione added.

"Does that mean we'll recruit from Hogwarts?" Sally-Anne asked.

Hermione sighed. Leaving aside how the Headmaster would react to that, there were a few issues with doing so. "I'd like to, but if we recruit among the older Hogwarts students, we'll need to be very careful - even now, there are possible spies here." Harry and Ron had warned her about the likes of McLaggen. She couldn't mention his name, though, or someone might kill him.

"Not Harry or Ron, though!" Sally-Anne said with a smile.

"No, not them. But they already are committed to their own group," Hermione said. "They were not hurt hiding inside Hogwarts, after all."

"So, we might get more Gryffindors as support," Seamus said. He exchanged a smile with Tania, and glanced at Justin with a smirk.

"Don't expect too much too soon." Hermione didn't quite roll her eyes - house rivalries, here? "They're not ready for battle yet, with a few exceptions, and those usually have their own missions."

"Aha! So Dumbledore is recruiting at Hogwarts," Justin said.

"I think it's more that he took those who would have become involved with the war anyway," she explained. "But yes, sooner or later we can expect more help." Hopefully later - she wasn't looking forward to seeing more friends die. "In the meantime, though, we're in a bind. Even if we recruit more from muggleborns, or even Hogwarts, we'd need to train them until they fit in with us."

Louise nodded at her - the former Hit-Wizard and her friend should know very well how much training had been needed, and they were still mostly using their wands because they were among the weakest shooters in the group.

"That means that we can't do much while we train them. We cannot prepare for a new mission either," Hermione went on.

"And after the Ministry, it's likely that things won't settle down," Justin said, frowning.

"Yes. So, new recruits won't be much help for some time. But we need to recruit anyway. We don't know for how long this war will go on." And the more members the Resistance had, the better would be their position after the war. "We might need to hire the Sergeant and the Major again," she added.

"We can afford it," Justin said.

"But we need recruits first. John, we'll need to put a call out in the next broadcast. Put up an e-mail address."

"I could have done that in the last broadcast, if I'd known," the wizard said, sighing.

"Sorry." That couldn't have been helped. Rushing things would do more harm than good, Hermione thought.

"A public recruitment ad will lead spies to us as well," Justin pointed out.

"Yes. But we can't be safe from them even by recruiting through our contacts and acquaintances." Hermione sighed. "We'll have to scrutinise each recruit, probably with Veritaserum and one of those Thief's Downfalls."

"Do you think Dumbledore will help us with that?" Tania sounded almost doubtful.

"If he wants us to keep fighting, then he'll have to." Hermione shook her head. "If we have to spend even more time vetting new recruits, we'll be unable to do any missions. We certainly won't rush into a battle unprepared again."

That was met with much approval.

"And what do we do if purebloods or half-bloods ask to join us?" Sally-Anne spoke up. "If we turn them down just because of their blood status, we'd be as bad as the purebloods. Those purebloods, I mean."

Hermione sighed. She almost hoped that there would be no such recruits. "They'll have to be able to fit in among muggles. Perfectly - we can't afford to be discovered in muggle Britain."

"Not many will be able to do that," Tania said.

"We can send those who don't to Dumbledore." Hermione shrugged. "So, next point: What can we do better in a fight?"

"Use the Killing Curse on them!" Louise said.

"Yes!" Tania and Seamus said quickly.

"I'm not certain that that would have helped us much," Hermione started.

"It certainly would have taken Lestrange down!" Seamus interrupted her.

"If we hit her, yes. We're not exactly experts at casting the Unforgivables," she pointed out. "And I think we all know that using a spell is not the same as knowing how to cast it. Which we don't know either. We'd need quite some training to be able to use those spells effectively."

"It's not that difficult," Louise said. "A Hit-Wizard who had fought in the last war said it was easy to learn and to use."

"Use, maybe, but use effectively?" Hermione scrunched her nose. "I'd rather not figure things out in the middle of a fight." She had made that mistake already. "The emotional component of the casting also worries me." You had to feel a lot of hatred to successfully cast the Killing Curse.

"You think we might not be able to muster enough hatred?" Seamus looked incredulous.

"Or it might be too easy." Hermione looked at him. He had been a good friend of Allan's. "Not to mention the trouble we can get into for using the Unforgivables."

"The Ministry has authorised their forces to use both the Imperius and the Killing Curse," Louise said. "Now that we're allied with them, there shouldn't be any problem."

Hermione wasn't quite certain about that - Bones hadn't struck her as the type to allow anyone much leeway when it came to the law, an impression Sirius had confirmed. "I don't trust the Ministry that much. But I was thinking about the effects on the purebloods in other magical countries, where the Dark Lord will be trying to recruit more wands for his ranks. Us using the Unforgivables will make it really easy for the Dark Lord to paint us as Grindelwald's heirs."

"The French like us," Sally-Anne said. "I talked with them quite a bit in the Infirmary."

"Those French like us," Hermione said. "But the vast majority of purebloods haven't forgotten that muggleborns flocked to Grindelwald's banner."

"Because they were oppressed and he promised them equality!" John said.

"Yes. But the other purebloods don't care much about that. Britain's about the only country in Magical Europe where we were treated somewhat equal to purebloods, and that's only because of Dumbledore. Durmstrang doesn't even allow muggleborns to attend, and in Beauxbatons, they are limited to their equivalent of O.W.L.s." Hermione had looked into other schools once. The French muggleborn could study for themselves, or get tutors and take their equivalents to N.E.W.T.s later - in theory. "And you can bet that they are watching Britain carefully. If we start acting like dark wizards and witches…"

"If they are afraid of their own muggleborns starting a war, then no matter what we do, we'll be blamed," Justin said. He looked grim, though.

"Possibly. But things could be much worse, and I'm not certain it'd be worth using the Unforgivables if we risk driving more purebloods to support the Dark Lord." Hermione pressed her lips together.

"A single Killing Curse could be the difference between winning and losing the war," Louise said.

"Yes. Like in the last war," Hermione said.

"That's not the same!" Seamus said.

"No. But using the Dark Arts is not something that should be done for expediency. I propose that we research this thoroughly to at least be certain that the mere act of using those spells is not dangerous in and of itself."

The smiles and chuckles surprised her. She frowned, but before she could ask what had brought this on, Sally-Anne spoke up. "Hermione, proposing to thoroughly research things! We're really back at Hogwarts!"

Hermione had to chuckle as well. Though she was not quite as amused - the Resistance were facing serious troubles, even if the Dark Lord stuck to licking his wounds.

And she somehow doubted that Voldemort would do so.

Mister Lovegood was a nice man, Harry Potter had found out quickly after Luna's father had arrived in his room. He was friendly, he was chatty, and he was funny.

He was also stark raving bonkers, as Ron had put it. After a night in the same room as Xenophilius, as the man had insisted Harry called him, he was now well-acquainted with the Rotfang Conspiracy, Muggle Mind Control Techniques, and more animals that had not yet been discovered than he could remember. He was also the proud owner of a ten-year subscription for The Quibbler. And he hadn't slept much during the night - Xenophilius could talk at length about anything.

The door opened, and Harry went for his wand.

"Good morning, Daddy! Good morning, Harry." Luna walked in. "I brought the dreamcatchers!"

"Splendid, Luna! I was not certain if I could keep the Nargles at bay for another night!" The older wizard beamed at his daughter.

Luna nodded. "I know, so I hurried with making them!" She smiled widely, reached into her bag and pulled out what looked like a head-sized Acromantula with Butterbeer corks and glitter stuck to its legs. A flick of the witch's wand had the thing float towards Harry, coming to a stop directly over his head.

With a sinking feeling, Harry realised that it was an Acromantula with cork pieces and glitter stuck on it. "Is that thing dead?" he asked, his wand already aimed at it. He remembered Hagrid's lesson on Acromantula hunting tactics in their fourth year quite well, and how they liked to drop on to a deer and ram their fangs into its head to inject their poison straight into the brain had featured prominently.

"Oh, no! It's not dead."

"What?" Harry had never been as quick to roll out of his bed and come up in a crouch. Even Moody would not fault his speed this time. "It's alive?" Not for much longer, he promised himself.

"It was never alive," Luna said.

"What? You transfigured something into a dead Acromantula?"

"No, no! It's the shed exoskeleton of an Acromantula." Luna smiled. "Spiders are very good at catching things, so their skeleton makes a great base for a dreamcatcher!"

Harry dimly remembered Hagrid talking about Acromantulas shedding their skin. Hermione had started to whisper a lengthy explanation about how non-magical spiders did the same thing, and Harry had somehow failed to follow either lecture. "Ah. So, it's basically harmless, right?"

"For humans, yes. It'll destroy bad dreams, and scare Nargles away - they can be caught with nets spun from the finest Acromantula silk, so they shun them, you know;" Luna said, nodding. Then she stuck the tip of her tongue out of the corner of her mouth and focused on moving the floating thing a bit around until she nodded and cast a Sticking Charm. "There! It'll perfectly protect your dreams, Harry!"

The blonde witch promptly proceeded to pull out a second one and install that over her father's bed. "They should work well enough, but if there are persistent Nargles, then I can animate them. I had to do that for my own room in our dorm - Nargles kept stealing my things until I animated my dreamcatcher." She put a finger on her lips, pouting. "I didn't know Nargles could shriek that loud, or imitate human sounds that well, so you might need a Silencing Charm to sleep soundly through the night."

"Oh, I don't need a Silencing Charm." Harry knew what Moody would do to him should he ever try to sleep while being effectively deaf and unable to hear an enemy approaching. Or a teacher.

"Alright." Luna nodded and sat down on her father's bed. "Do you feel better yet, Daddy?"

"I do. But not yet good enough." Xenophilius sighed. "I'm still weak."

"But you'll be healthy soon, right?" Luna asked, and for once, her voice suddenly sounded rather brittle.

"Of course!" Xenophilius reached out and pulled Luna into a hug.

Harry felt both embarrassed at seeing such an intimate moment, and irrationally jealous. Sirius had - temporarily - returned to Grimmauld Place, to organise things for Remus's absence, and would pass by the Ministry afterwards, so Harry's godfather wouldn't be back until the evening.

He could do with a nap, he thought, and returned to his bed to lie down. Which placed his head straight under the dreamcatcher. He was suddenly more understanding of Ron's fear of spiders.

Ron Weasley felt… not jealous. Hermione was having a lengthy meeting with the Resistance, which excluded him. He knew she needed to talk about several important issues with the rest of her group, and he knew he was not part of that, but it was Sunday, when there were no classes, and they could have spent the morning together.

Which was annoying. Another thing to blame on the war. Although sometimes he wondered if Hermione and he would have become a couple if there hadn't been a war. Would they even be friends if Voldemort had not let a troll into the school in their first year? He liked to think they would have become friends anyway, but the odds weren't that good. Without Voldemort to worry about, would they have found common ground, or would they have simply seen each other's small, petty flaws? Would he have even seen past the nagging swot with the bushy hair? Would he have cared to even try? Would Harry have? And would Hermione have ever been interested in him?

He sighed. He didn't want to be grateful to Voldemort for anything and forced the idle thoughts away. Just as he had forced the thought of killing that Death Eater away. He took a deep breath. He should visit Harry, and his family, instead of moping around. They would be glad for the visit, too.

As he entered the infirmary, he noticed that Bill had woken up, and had a visitor. Although Ron wasn't quite certain if Fleur had even left the infirmary since the battle, with seemingly half her family and her fiancé stuck there. Percy seemed to still be asleep, and Dad was gone.

"Good morning, Ron. Dad's gone with Mum, back to Grimmauld Place," Bill informed him.

"Good morning, Ron." Even tired, Fleur sounded perfect.

"Morning, Bill. Morning, Fleur." Ron nodded, frowning - Moody had told him often that he was easy to read. Although Bill was his oldest brother, which gave him an unfair advantage. "He's fine then."

"Yes."

Ron hadn't been worried, not really, but … it felt good to hear it confirmed. "And Percy?"

"Will be fine. He just needs more rest," Bill said.

Ron had heard that before. "What about you?"

"I'm fine," Bill said, grinning. "Pomfrey will see that too, once she returns."

"'E's not fine!" Fleur said. "'e needs more rest as well!"

"I've had worse at work," Bill said.

"You work as a Curse-Breaker. Of course you've 'ad worse at work!"

Ron thought just the fact that his brother had made such a mistake was proof that he wasn't quite that fine. "How are your relatives?" he asked.

Fleur's face fell, and Ron pressed his lips together. He shouldn't have asked her that.

"They're doing well, considering the circumstances." She didn't have to add 'those who survived'; her face said enough when she glanced at the corner housing the French wounded.

Ron was about to excuse himself and go to Harry - Bill and Fleur would probably be happier together, just as he would like to be alone with Hermione - when Fleur spoke up again: "This will make quite the trouble at 'ome for Uncle Marcel."

"Because so many of your family were killed?" Ron asked.

"Non. Because they were fighting side by side with muggleborns." She sighed. "France still remembers the muggleborns 'oo joined Grindelwald. 'La trahison du sang', they call it. A number of people were almost glad when the Muggleborns rebelled - they said that Britain 'ad 'ad it coming for granting them so many liberties."

"Idiots," Ron hissed.

"They're afraid. Which is quite strange for a country famous for their bravery," Fleur said.

"If they treated their muggleborns better they wouldn't have to fear a rebellion," Ron replied.

"That the French muggles celebrate their revolutions so much doesn't 'elp, of course. The Duc's Court is very much aware of the fate of the last muggle king. Or was it the second to last?" Fleur shrugged.

Ron had no idea. Hermione would know, of course, but she was busy. "So, what will the Duc do?"

"I don't know for certain, but I think that 'e'll do nothing, and tell the people that this is Dumbledore's country and fault, and 'as nothing to do with France."

"Don't they know that the muggleborns started fighting when the Wizengamot took away their rights, and not before?" Ron asked.

"They might think that if Dumbledore 'adn't granted the muggleborns more rights, there wouldn't 'ave been a Blood War in the first place - certainly not two."

Ron snorted. "Why didn't they support Voldemort back then?"

"He acted too much like Grindelwald, Mister Weasley."

Ron whirled around, drawing his wand before he recognised the Headmaster. He hadn't noticed the old wizard arriving. That Bill and Fleur had missed Dumbledore as well was not much of a consolation.

The old wizard seemed to ignore his reaction, and continued while Ron stashed his wand. "Some Old Families fear purebloods from younger families rising in power almost as as much as they fear the muggleborns. The Dark Lord lacked both a history and blood relations among the Old Families. His claim of being the heir of Slytherin did not carry enough weight outside Britain to overcome that handicap."

"We should be so lucky that our pureblood bigots were not pureblood enough for the bigots of the rest of Europe," Ron muttered.

"Sometimes, Mister Weasley, fate works in quite ironic ways."

Outside Stamford, Lincolnshire, Britain, January 19th, 1997

The Dark Lord Voldemort took a deep breath. It was time. Sunday evening. The sun had set already. Two days after the battle. Right when the first of the wounded were leaving St Mungo's and most of the survivors would still be tired from the rescue and recovery efforts. It had taken him months to create the spell. Back when he had just returned, it had been as much a way to pass the time, waiting for Lucius's efforts to bear fruit, as a serious undertaking. Given the reputation of the houngans in Britain, even among those sympathetic to his cause, using the curse would have undone all of his faithful's work. Having a few select Death Eaters test parts of the curse had been as far as he had dared to go. But now, after his other plans had failed, there was no reason not to use it. The British wizards might loathe him for it, but they'd fear him more.

He reached out and picked up the skull sitting on his desk, then walked to the circle he had drawn on the floor of the room, lighting the candles with a flick of his wand. He put the skull down in the centre, on the parchment with the symbol he had chosen, then whipped his wand against his left hand, slashing it open. He redrew the circle with his own blood, then let it drop on the skull. Blood meant power. Even the houngans understood that. He held his hand steady while his blood kept dripping on the skull, disappearing where it touched the polished bone. Finally, the skull started to glow red, and Voldemort closed the gash in his hand before sitting down.

Holstering his wand, he grabbed the skull with both hands and raised it until he was facing it. He took another deep breath, the scent of blood growing stronger. Closing his eyes, he pressed the skull against his head, hissing at the pain this caused. Weaker minds than his would have stopped then, but he had endured far worse in the pursuit of the Dark Arts. Pain was no stranger to him, nor would it ever be his master. He pushed the pain away, and focused. His power. His will. He could feel it reaching out, touching the prepared vessels. Filling them, one by one, with his power. Brushing past wards and spells as if they were not there.

Finally, they were ready. All of them, prepared by himself, or by his followers. All waiting for his command.

Shuddering under the strain, he gave the order.

Rise, and strike at my enemies!

London, Ministry of Magic, January 19th, 1997

Albus Dumbledore was tired. An afternoon spent handling the minutiae of the Ministry's many tasks was draining on the best of days. Two days after the Battle of the Ministry, with many of the survivors still being treated at St Mungo's, or resting in their homes, with their families, it was exhausting.

And yet, it couldn't be helped. Wizarding Britain depended on him, and on his friends and allies - they could not afford to dawdle. Reorganising the Ministry's forces, planning the war, changing the muggleborn laws, organising repairs - so much had to be done, with so few wands available.

At least everyone was doing what they could. Even the walking wounded. He saw Finegas Smith step out of the restored fireplace. The man had been struck with the Withering Curse during the coup, but you wouldn't be able to tell it judging by his slow but steady stride. Although with his wand arm withered, he would not be able to help out with the repair work. Still, his help would be useful in organising the work, freeing those who could cast spells from paperwork.

Albus smiled, and nodded at the man as they approached each other in the Atrium. "Good evening, Finegas."

The other man didn't return his greeting and simply continued his way. Albus raised his eyebrows - Finegas was always impeccably polite. He didn't look as if he was alright, either. His eyes were… empty. And he was moving his withered arm, wielding a wand!

Albus conjured a slab of metal right in time to stop Finegas's Piercing Curse. He cast a Shield Charm while he stepped around the barrier, and sent two Stunners at the other wizard. Both hit, and the man staggered. He didn't fall, though, and cast a Cutting and Bludgeoning Curse, both stopped by Albus's Shield, before another Stunning Spell took him down.

"I am very sorry, my friend, but it is for your own good," Albus mumbled, summoning Finegas's wand and casting a full Body-Bind Curse, followed by conjured ropes. He turned to the Auror guards - two very young wizards, Mister Auckley and Mister Runcorn, both Hufflepuffs, graduated in the last year - approaching them. "I fear he has been compelled to attack me - he was acting quite unlike himself. Please take him into a cell, for his and our safety. We need to find out what has been done to him. Merlin's Staff! The Withering Curse!" He whirled around. "It doesn't simply cause a limb to wither, it also allows the Dark Lord to control them!"

The Aurors grew pale - they knew as well as Albus did just how many people had been cursed by the Dark Lord's trap, or his followers.

"Scrimgeour!" Auckley yelled, while Albus sent a Patronus Messenger to warn Hogwarts. "He's been in to supervise!"

"He's not the only one!" Runcorn said.

Before they could move, though, screams and explosions once more filled the Ministry.

Hogwarts, January 19th, 1997

"So, you'll have to stay another night in the infirmary."

Harry Potter, sitting in his bed, nodded at Luna. "Yes. Pomfrey said that she was taking no chances with anyone who had fought the Dark Lord directly."

"That is wise, but she missed Dumbledore. And Ron," Luna said. "Should I go and fetch them for her?"

"I think she has the situation in hand," Harry said. While Luna trying to drag Dumbledore to the infirmary for his own good was an amusing thought, he didn't think Ron and Hermione would appreciate having their dinner date interrupted by Luna.

"Are you certain?" Luna frowned. "You can't take chances with your health." She glanced at her sleeping father.

"Pomfrey released Ron, so he must be fine," Harry said.

"But did she know what he did?"

Harry was about to answer when he heard the door opening. He had his wand aimed at it before he realised what he was doing - and so he was able to cast a Shield Charm the instant a small object flew through the widening gap. A second later, an explosion filled the room.

Harry's shield had protected him from the blast, but he couldn't see anything but patches of colour, and his ears were ringing. Luna's screams were just a dim noise to him and he could barely see the furniture as he rolled off his bed. Further, but fainter, explosions sounded, flashes too, and something hit his Shield Charm. Several times.

Someone was shooting at him, he realised. Harry threw himself to the side, away from his bed. He couldn't see enough, yet, but his enemy had to be standing in the doorway. And Harry had trained under similar conditions with Moody.

He sent a few Bludgeoning Curses in the general direction of the door, aiming high, then covered the floor at the door with oil. He could see contours now. Silhouettes. A figure was stumbling at the door, slipping on the oil, with a large stick in their hands. Luna was still screaming. He didn't hear her father. The figure was turning around, towards her.

Harry snarled and stabbed with his wand forward, sending a volley of curses at the attacker. His Piercing Curse was stopped by a Shield Charm, he could see the flashes, but his Reductor Curse went through and hit the figure, followed by a Cutting Curse that went wide, before his Fire-Making Spell hit the oil, setting it and the figure ablaze.

The attacker didn't scream, though. Even burning, they shot at Harry, though the bullets went wide, not even hitting his Shield Charm. Harry dived forward, rolling past another bed, and came up casting. His next Bludgeoning Curse smashed the attacker into the wall, hard enough to break bones, but they still tried to raise their gun until Harry's Cutting Curse sliced into their arm and the rifle dropped.

A moment later, the figure dropped as well. Panting, Harry kept his wand trained on the burning … boy? He blinked, his eyes finally having recovered from the blinding flash, then gasped - he recognised the burning wizard. He had just killed Colin Creevey.

"It's almost like a date," Ron Weasley said as he and Hermione walked down the hallway. "We had dinner together, just the two of us, and now we're off to…" He trailed off.

"... the library," Hermione finished for him while he was searching for a better word, "to do some research on the Unforgivables. It's not exactly a dance or a movie." She was smiling, though, despite her words. "And I wouldn't be wearing the fatigues for a date," she added, pointing at her clothes.

"If we dance or watch a movie in the library, Pince will probably demonstrate all three Unforgivables on us," Ron said, snorting. "She would cast them silently, of course, so as not to disturb the other visitors."

Hermione chuckled, then grew serious. "It says a lot about us that we're joking about the Dark Arts, doesn't it?"

Ron shrugged. "It's the war." If you couldn't laugh about it you would have to cry about it. And laughing was better.

"It seems so far away from here," Hermione said. "Hogwarts hasn't changed."

"Other than for the better by losing most of the Slytherins," he said. "And we've had our fair share of troubles here too." Not all of those had been Harry's or Ron's fault, either.

"That's true, I guess." She didn't comment about the Slytherins. A year ago, she might have, he thought.

"How long will you be staying here?" He didn't bother to ask casually. She knew how much he loved her being here.

"A few more days, I think. Until Jeremy is in better shape."

"You could stay here until the end of the war." They passed a junction, and he covered the crossing hallway on his side while Hermione did the same on her side.

She sighed. "I'm not certain that would be a good idea. That might endanger the school."

He scoffed. "With Dumbledore as the Headmaster and Harry here, it's already a target for Voldemort."

"It would also make everyone think we're Dumbledore's wands." She was frowning. Not at him, though. "That might bring problems of their own once the war is over."

"How so?"

"Other muggleborns might not trust us that much if they think that we were just his to command," Hermione said.

"Can't win a war without coordination, and an overall commander." Ron had learned that when he had let his chess set play itself once.

"It's unlikely, but not impossible." Hermione pursed her lips. "But we are coordinating. It's just the appearance of subordination that I want to avoid. We're the Resistance, his allies, not members of his Order."

"Well, I don't know if many care about the difference," Ron said. "In fact, I think…"

Loud explosions, followed by screams, interrupted him.

"Someone's shooting!" Hermione said, drawing her wand and starting to run.

Ron hurried to catch up, though he had to push himself to manage it. They rounded the corner to the sound of more shots being fired. "It's near the Great Hall!" he yelled.

"That's a machine gun. One of ours!" Hermione yelled. "Someone must be attacking us!" Both had already cast a Shield Charm.

They were close now. The screams were growing louder. Then three students ran around the corner, yelling and screaming. They stopped as soon as they spotted the two of them, though. No, as soon as they spotted Hermione.

"Noo!" one of them - a Ravenclaw, Ron thought, probably in Ginny's year, all of them were - screamed. "Please!"

Another figure turned around the corner, a gun in his hands, firing, and the three Ravenclaws fell down, like animated statues when the enchantment was finited.

"Dennis?" Ron heard Hermione say.

It was Dennis Creevey. The boy was wearing fatigues like Hermione. He didn't answer, but lifted his gun, swinging it towards them.

Ron dived to the floor, away from Hermione, an instant before the boy fired again. Split up, force them to split their attention, as far as possible, Moody had taught him and Harry. Not much room in a hallway for that, though.

"Dennis, stop!" Hermione yelled. She was also casting, though, and Ron saw a wall rise in the middle of the hallway, stopping both bullets and Ron's Stunner. "He must be under someone's control!" she yelled.

"Help! Please help!" one of the Ravenclaws was screaming, blood gushing from a deep wound in her arm.

"Help her!" Hermione yelled and rushed forward. She threw a small object through the gap between the wall and the hallway's ceiling, then cast a spell. Thick, black smoke appeared on the other side of the wall, parts of it drifting to their side.

"Episkey!" Ron yelled, stabbing his wand at the girl's wound. "Episkey! Episkey!"

After three spells, the bleeding started to slow. After four, it stopped. Ron glanced at Hermione. She was waving her wand over another girl, then shook her head. The third was crawling away, dragging one leg behind her.

"Hold still!" Ron said, casting at her. She screamed, flailing, despite his reassurances that he was helping her. He still managed to close the wounds in her leg.

"Let's move them around the corner!" Hermione yelled, and Ron saw that she was levitating the girl he had treated.

The other girl was scrambling to her feet, so Ron simply grabbed her arm and pulled her with him. This time she didn't resist. Just before they reached the corner, the wall behind them exploded. Shots hit Ron's Shield Charm as he pushed the girl into the next hallway. His shield shattered, and something hit him in the side. Unbalanced, he fell to the floor, bullets passing over his head. Then the pain hit him. He had been shot.

"Ron!" he heard Hermione scream.

He rolled to the side, screaming at the pain that caused, and aimed his wand with shaking fingers, lying on his back. Hermione had conjured another wall. "Let's blow it up!" he managed to press out.

For a moment, she hesitated, then he heard her agree. "On three. One. Two."

Ron's Blasting Curse hit the wall a fraction of a second after hers, filling the hallway with a cloud of dust. He rolled to the side, coming to a stop at the corner, wand still aimed into the cloud. Merlin's balls, that hurt!

A gust of wind drove the dust back, away from them. Ron saw someone on the floor there. Dennis. The boy was still moving, one arm grasping for the gun. Ron hesitated, then banished the gun away from the boy.

"Stupefy! Stupefy!"

Hermione was there, casting at Dennis. After her second Stunner, the boy stopped moving.

Ron forced himself to stand up and walk, despite the blood running down his side.

"Ron!" Hermione yelled. "You're wounded! Stop moving!"

He didn't stop until he reached the boy on the ground, then he stared while Hermione started to treat his wound.

Dennis was bound as well as stunned now, and bleeding from several wounds, but his leathery, dried-up looking arm was still twitching.

London, Ministry of Magic, January 19th, 1997

Albus Dumbledore took a step to the side, deflecting a curse with a conjured floating shield, then swished his wand. The Ministry Employee, Bertie Gibbons, who had cast at him fell down when the floor underneath the man's feet turned into a rug that was then ripped away. Before Bertie had recovered, Albus had bound him with conjured ropes. He took care to remove his wand and secure the withered limb with a few more bindings - more than one afflicted victim had been stunned, yet their limbs had managed to keep moving. A Stunning Spell knocked the poor wizard unconscious, just in case the Dark Lord's curse had hidden another surprise.

"I don't see anyone else," Mister Auckley said. The Auror wiped some blood from his brow where a splinter from a Reductor Curse had struck him. His partner had been wounded more seriously in the Atrium, and had been taken away to St Mungo's.

The old wizard looked around, checking his Human-presence-revealing Spell, then turned around and nodded at the latest arrival. "Amelia."

"Albus."

"How is the situation?" he asked as they started to walk towards the Atrium.

"Under control. We're stunning anyone stepping out of the fireplaces." The Head of the DMLE had not escaped the battle unscathed either - her robe was ripped, and there were some bloodstains on her shoulder.

"Good." It was better to ambush the cursed attackers in the Atrium than block the Floo connection and let them find other targets. "Minerva sent me a message. Hogwarts has been secured as well. There have been victims, though." He felt guilty - his warning had come too late; the curse-victims at the school had already struck by then. Even if he had been at the school he probably wouldn't have been able to prevent the attacks; Hogwarts was a large school, and he would have been hard-pressed to be quick enough to find and stop the curse-victims in time. He knew that, but it didn't alleviate his guilt.

"The Minister's dead," Amelia went on. "Rufus marched straight into his office and murdered him."

Cornelius dead… that would have far-reaching consequences. There were more urgent things to worry about, though. "Did you manage to subdue him?"

"He's alive." Amelia said. Her expression told Albus that Rufus had been hurt. It couldn't be helped - the Head Auror was a talented and experienced wizard, and would have been hard to capture unharmed.

He sighed. "The victims need to be secured and dosed with Draught of Living Death. All of them. We cannot risk the Dark Lord influencing them further until we can cure them." If they could cure them.

Amelia hissed. "We're still taking a tally of them. Some of them attacked their own families."

Abus briefly closed his eyes. He had been afraid of that. They reached the Atrium, and he saw the bodies laid out on the floor. Most bound in conjured robes, and stunned, but too many covered with blankets. The Atrium had suffered more damage as well - rubble and dust was strewn around, and several new craters were visible in the floor. If Albus had stayed here… but if he had, the attackers inside the Ministry would not have been subdued as quickly.

"Albus!" The Headmaster saw Sirius walking quickly towards him. "I'm returning to Hogwarts." The younger wizard's robes showed some rips and tears, but he appeared unhurt - he might have already been healed, of course.

Albus nodded, even though Sirius's presence in the Ministry would be very helpful right now - but nothing short of - maybe - another battle would have stopped Harry's godfather from checking on his godson.

Amelia led him up the stairs, past an Auror guard - if you could call two wizards who had graduated last year Aurors - to Cornelius's office. Albus looked inside and frowned. Rufus had used Blasting Curses. There wasn't much left of Cornelius's desk, or of the Minister himself.

"What happened, Albus? What did the Dark Lord do?"

"He found a new way to create zombies."