A very big "Thank you!" goes to fredfred for betaing. His help has improved the story a lot.


Chapter 48: Close Calls

London, Diagon Alley, December 1st, 1998

Rufus Scrimgeour forced himself to appear calm and collected as he stepped out of the Floo connection in the Leaky Cauldron. The Head Auror had to be in control of the situation, or act as if he were, at all times; his wands depended on him. Especially the younger, inexperienced ones who were the majority of the Corps these days. "What's the situation?" he snapped as soon as he saw John Dawlish standing there.

"There's a Fiendfyre attack in progress at Gringotts. We're trying to contain it. Several Aurors and goblins, as well as civilians, have been killed by it. Suspected Death Eater involvement." Dawlish told him.

"Death Eaters?" Rufus asked as he proceeded to the entrance to Diagon Alley, Aurors trailing behind him as Dawlish walked at his side.

"Weasley reported a Death Eater attack when he dropped Moody off at St Mungo's."

Rufus almost gasped at hearing that. Moody was down? Mad-Eye was their best Auror. "Who's in charge of the situation?" He tapped the brick wall in the yard with his wand.

"Shacklebolt moved to relieve Potter," Dawlish said as the bricks flowed away, revealing Diagon Alley - and glimpses of the green fire ravaging it.

"Merlin's arse!"

"Bloody hell!"

Rufus pressed his lips together to avoid joining in. They couldn't afford to panic now. "Dawlish, take half the wands here and move to support Shacklebolt in containing the fire! Go!"

As Dawlish rounded up a dozen Aurors, Rufus looked around. He needed his best Aurors now, or this would turn into a catastrophe. If it hadn't already. Kingsley was already on the job. That left… "Auror Tonks!" he barked. The young witch snapped to attention. "Go inform the Unspeakables that we need their help in suppressing Fiendfyre. At once!" Tonks's report would ensure that the Unspeakables took this seriously.

"Yes, sir!" She sped off.

Rufus looked at the fire. It didn't seem to be advancing, but he lacked a direct line of sight. Clenching his teeth, he pulled out his broom and unshrank it. "The rest of you, evacuate the civilians and wounded!" he yelled as he mounted his broom and rose into the air.

The air above the Alley was hot and full of smoke. A Bubble-Head Charm took care of the smoke, but even with a Cooling Charm he could feel the heat. From this vantage point, the situation looked dire, but not hopeless. He could see Potter and Weasley on their brooms, circling the cursed fire, and muttered a curse under his breath. Those two were too brave for their own good - they were so close, all it would take was one gust of wind, and the Fiendfyre would engulf them.

But as far as he could tell, the walls they were continually conjuring were all that kept the Fiendfyre from reaching Gringotts - he could see no Aurors on the ground in that area. Shacklebolt's group was in the Alley, cut off from the bank by the fire.

And he could see goblins at the bank's entrance. Waiting. What had Dawlish said? Goblins had been killed? He felt like cursing again as he guided his broom back down, towards the Leaky Cauldron.

Tonks was just stepping out of the pub when he landed. "The Unspeakables are on their way. They'll arrive in a few minutes!" she reported, unprompted. Good witch.

"Good. Go back to the Ministry. Tell Bones that we need every Hit-Wizard we can spare." Even if they would be useless in fighting the Fiendfyre.


Half an hour later, the fire was under control - sealed off inside a veritable mountain of conjured rock and smothered in the Unspeakables' latest concoction. They had lost two Aurors when a wall had burst unexpectedly during the containment, but otherwise the training he had ordered after the last Fiendfyre attack had obviously borne fruit - no other Aurors had been lost in the fire, and the Unspeakables had been even more effective.

But now they were facing another problem - probably more dangerous than the fire. Rufus pressed his lips together as he watched the row of goblins lined up at the entrance of Gringotts, just barely inside their territory. He was certain that the line of Hit-Wizards facing them behind conjured cover was the only reason that they weren't charging the Aurors dealing with the aftermath of the fire.

Shaking his head, he cast an Amplifying Charm. "Potter! Weasley! To me!"

The two arrived, their robes covered in soot, with tears showing in several spots, but looking otherwise none the worse for wear. And they kept their attention on the goblins. Moody's influence was showing.

"Sir!" They saluted him.

"What happened here?" Rufus snapped.

"Death Eater ambush, sir," Potter reported. "They must have used Polyjuice Potion to disguise themselves. They replaced two of our Aurors and started a ruckus with the goblins, then struck once we'd arrived. Lestrange and another were hiding as civilians among the crowd. First, they caused a panic by attacking us and the civilians, then they sent the goblins after us. Moody was cursed during the battle, but we killed the Death Eater disguised as Auror Jenkins, and I think we got the other fake Auror as well. Couldn't verify it, though. When I broke the spell on the goblins, they turned on the Death Eaters, and another force of goblins charged them from the entrance, at which point they used Fiendfyre."

A concise report. Potter and Weasley would go far even without Black's patronage. Not as far, of course, as with it. "Could they have been under the Imperius Curse?" he asked.

Weasley shook his head. "They were too skilled for that. Jenkins wouldn't have lasted that long."

As much as Rufus hated to admit it, Weasley wasn't wrong about that. The current Aurors - with a few exceptions - weren't as incompetent as Moody claimed, but they certainly weren't on the level of the Lestranges. He nodded in agreement, then asked: "They burned themselves rather than get arrested?"

"We don't know, sir," Weasley answered. "We had the area locked down with Anti-Apparition and Anti-Portkey Jinxes, but I saw a hole in the ground when we started to contain the flames from the air."

An underground escape tunnel? It would fit Crouch's modus operandi; the damned Death Eater was very cunning.

Rufus grimaced as he looked at what was left of the area. Sorting out who was killed there would take the Unspeakables weeks - if they could manage it at all. "They killed the goblins?"

"Two dozen of them, yes," Weasley confirmed.

"While they were disguised as Aurors." Rufus shook his head. They'd need a miracle to avoid a war.

"We got at least one of the Death Eaters," Potter said.

Rufus snorted. "That won't matter to the goblins."

And Fudge would blame him. Fortunately, Amelia would stand up for him. Rufus probably wouldn't even have to find a scapegoat to save his career.

Provided he survived the coming crisis.


London, Ministry of Magic, December 1st, 1998

Harry Potter felt exhausted when he returned to the Ministry. He looked the part, too, he knew - his robes were blackened, covered with soot and torn. And his hair might have been singed more than a little - he hadn't noticed anything because of his Bubble-Head Charm, but after he ended it, the stench from his robes had been overpowering.

Not that anyone else was doing any better. Ron was in a similar condition as Harry, Bathilda looked like she'd collapse as soon as she stopped moving, and even Nott, who apparently had been called away from his hole in Filing, was covered in ash and soot and too tired to make any snide remarks.

"Where's the boss?" Harry asked. Scrimgeour was still in Diagon Alley, staring down the goblins, he hadn't seen Shacklebolt in a while and he was too tired to go around checking offices.

Bathilda turned around. "John's the senior Auror in charge."

Great. Harry kept his expression neutral and nodded at the witch. It wasn't her fault. "Thanks."

"Pleasure," she mumbled, sitting down on a bench by the closest wall and sighing. "Why would anyone use Fiendfyre?" she asked with her eyes closed.

"Because they're crazy dark wizards and witches," Ron answered. "And because it's damned effective if you don't care about burning the world down. Or at least the city."

"Or yourself," Harry added.

Bathilda looked up. "Did they? Burn themselves up, I mean?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't think so." If only.

Bathilda shook her head. "So many dead…" She wiped her face and eyes, and Harry looked away.

Turning to Ron, he said: "Let's find Dawlish."

The older Auror was in his office and didn't look like he had just come from fighting a fire. His robes looked freshly cleaned, and his face and hair were spotless. Which was kind of impressive, since Harry knew the man had been sent back to the Ministry not more than fifteen minutes before Ron and himself.

"Potter. Weasley." Dawlish snapped before they could say anything. "What are you doing here?"

"We're reporting in," Harry told him.

"Reporting in?" The Auror scoffed. "Didn't you hear Scrimgeour? You're to rest."

"We can still work," Harry said. They weren't as badly off as the other Aurors involved in containing the fire. Moody's harsh training had paid off again.

Ron nodded. "Others need to rest more than us."

Dawlish scowled. "Don't act like bloody fools! All that's keeping me going is a couple of Pepper-Ups. I'll collapse in a few hours. But Shacklebolt or Scrimgeour will take over by then. You idiots get some rest - that's an order - and return in eight hours."

Harry was about to protest, but Dawlish cut him off. "Merlin's balls, Potter! Haven't you noticed the goblins? They're waiting for us to show weakness, and we can't afford that. We'll need the bloody Vanquisher of the Dark Lord showing his face in Diagon Alley while we set up a strong deterrent there, and you need to be well-rested for that. Now get the hell out of here and get some rest! I need to organise the shifts so we can cover Diagon Alley with enough warm bodies to deter the goblins."

The idiot had a point, as much as Harry loathed admitting it. "How's Moody doing?" he asked.

Dawlish blinked, then scoffed again. "Last I heard, he'll live. Unlike a dozen others."

"Alright. We'll be back in eight hours," Harry said.

After a visit to St Mungo's.


London, St Mungo's, December 1st, 1998

Moody looked bad. Harry Potter had to clench his teeth to refrain from cursing when he saw the old Auror twitch and tremble on the bed in St Mungo's. Usually, the man's scarred face looked imposing - even scary - with his spinning eye and cynical attitude, but now the scars on his face and the empty socket just made him look even more hurt than he actually was.

"When will he be healthy again?" he asked.

The young Healer standing at the foot of the bed hesitated. "That is difficult to say at this point. Our counter-curse wasn't strong enough to remove all the effects of the original curse. That is why he is still twitching," she added, wincing. "We expect him to recover over time, but a precise prognosis cannot be made at this point. We are keeping him sedated so he won't hurt himself."

"And a not so precise prognosis?" Ron asked. "Weeks? Months?"

The witch drew a deep breath before answering. "Months at least."

Harry once again clenched his teeth. They needed Moody. More than ever, with the goblins breathing down their necks and Lestrange and Crouch still at large. Still threatening his family. Hermione.

"Bloody hell," he heard Ron mutter.

"He was lucky to reach us in time to get treated," the Healer said as if that would change anything.

"What about his eye and leg?" Harry asked, nodding at Moody.

"We removed his artificial eye and leg since we couldn't tell if they were affected by the curse," the young Healer standing at their side explained.

Harry looked at him. "Where are they?" Those prosthetics, especially the eye, were very valuable. If someone stole them…

"In the box containing his other belongings."

"We'll be taking that box," Harry said.

"But recovering patients are often very dependent on their wands…" she started to protest, then faltered when he narrowed his eyes.

"He told us to keep them for him," Harry said. Moody hadn't done so, not explicitly at least, but Harry knew the Auror wouldn't trust the Healers to keep his belongings safe.

And with good cause. "We'll need guards here," he told Ron. If the Death Eaters struck at St Mungo's…

"Can we spare them?" his friend asked.

"We'll have to," Harry replied. Or they'd have to find another solution.


London, No 12 Grimmauld Place, December 1st, 1998

"They told us they were fine and that they'll be home soon - they're just visiting Moody."

Hermione Granger pressed her lips together and glared at Sirius. "I know that," she spat. "You don't have to keep telling me. But you know Harry. He'll claim that he's fine even if he's hurt!" The damn fool! And what they had found out through various channels wasn't helping Hermione to calm down. An ambush by Crouch and the Lestranges. Another Fiendfyre attack on Gringotts. And Mad-Eye Moody had been sent to St Mungo's. "I won't believe that he's fine until I've verified it myself," she whispered without moving her jaw.

"Well, just don't tackle him before he's out of the fireplace," Sirius replied. "You might break him."

She snorted, which caused him to smile as he sat down on next to her on the bench in their entrance hall.

"We should install a desk for you if you're going to spend so much time here."

"I'm not planning to turn this into a habit," she retorted.

"That's probably out of your hands - unless you plan to lock Harry up at home until the Death Eaters are caught." Sirius sighed and leaned his head against the wall.

"You're worried as well," she said. He hadn't left the entrance hall either since their return home to Jeanne from the Ministry. The French witch had taken the news about the ambush far better than either of them and was currently in the kitchen, picking the menu for the evening,

"Of course I'm worried," he replied, scoffing. "I know just what kind of dark wizards Harry is hunting - I spent a decade in prison with them, and I grew up with Bellatrix. She's worse than Voldemort - a cruel, crazy monster."

Hermione bit her lower lip and took a deep breath. Perhaps… "If we told Harry the truth about us, he'd quit the Corps."

He glared at her, but she didn't flinch and met his eyes. That way, Harry would be safe. Safer, at least. And she wouldn't have to lie to him.

He shook his head. "And he would abandon his dream. His career. Ron would follow. People would think they're cowards, too scared to face the Death Eaters."

"He would be safe," she retorted. "And he could make his own decisions." She raised her chin slightly.

He narrowed his eyes at her and almost sneered. "You know as well as I do that he'd quit the Aurors."

"Would that be so bad? He could work with us."

"He would have to; he wouldn't let us take all the risks. You know he wouldn't." Sirius shook his head. "I told you before: I'm not going to do that to him. He deserves to make his own decisions."

"He can't really make a decision when he doesn't know the truth," she retorted.

He snorted. "He was a member of the Order. He knew that we weren't following the law when it got in the way of fighting the Death Eaters. Hell, you know the kind of magic Dumbledore taught him."

Hermione reluctantly nodded. Illegal blood magic. Almost as bad as the Unforgivables in the eyes of the law.

"See? And yet, he didn't want to break the law to battle Malfoy and his ilk; he chose to enter the Ministry and reform it. And I respect that decision. I won't force him to abandon his plans."

"His plan isn't working!" Hermione spat through clenched teeth. "As long as Malfoy and his allies have gold to spend, things won't change."

Sirius shrugged. "That's why we're robbing them blind. So Harry's plan will work."

Even without Malfoy's corrupting influence, it wouldn't be easy to reform the Wizengamot. Hermione knew that. It might even be impossible without further robberies - even Sirius's allies among the Old Families wouldn't be happy to lose their power and position at the top of Wizarding Britain. "Do you think he'll be happy to know that he only succeeded thanks to us breaking the law?"

"Who says he'll ever know?" Sirius shook his head. "We finish Malfoy, and we can retire."

Of course - he was going to be a father. And he wasn't a professional thief. Hermione pressed her lips together. Could she stop being a thief after she achieved her goals? Forget everything she had learned? Abandon her career?

Or perhaps she should be asking herself whether she could continue being a thief when all she was doing was filling her own coffers? When Harry would be hunting her? When she had no excuses left?

She closed her eyes. She wasn't certain whether or not she wanted to know the answer.

"Everything will work out," he said after remaining silent for a while. "You'll see."

She snorted. If only. "Well…"

The sound of the fire flaring up in the fireplace interrupted her. Her eyes shot open, and she jumped to her feet. Harry!

There he was, walking - stumbling - out of the fireplace. He looked terrible. Exhausted. As if he could collapse at any moment and sleep for a day. But he also looked unhurt. Whole. She wrapped her arms around him, pressing her face into his shoulder, her front against his chest. He was alive. Unhurt. Safe.

She took a deep, shuddering breath. "Harry."

"Hermione." She felt his arms around her. His hands on her back, gently rubbing.

And she knew one thing: Whatever her future held, she wanted him in it. No matter the cost.


London, No 12 Grimmauld Place, December 1st, 1998

The green flames roared as they shot up, tendrils of cursed fire weaving through the air as they reached for him. He gritted his teeth and pulled on the shaft of his Firebolt, rolling as he veered away, narrowly avoiding the closest flames as he flicked his wand to conjure another wall beneath him, stopping the Fiendfyre from approaching Gringotts for another precious quarter minute.

He felt the heat on his face and hands as he compensated for the sudden thermal updraft pushing against him from below. That was close. Perhaps a little too close. Ron was on the other side, replacing a wall that had already been burned to cinders.

Smoke billowed up in front of him and he banked - flying through smoke was a good way to miss another flame reaching for you. Where were the reinforcements? The Unspeakables? He and Ron had to have been fighting this cursed fire for minutes now - it didn't take that long to reach Diagon Alley from the Ministry!

He panted as he circled the fire, looking for the next wall about to crumble. Breathing was difficult. Surprisingly so, despite his Bubble-Head Charm. It was as if he had a weight on his chest. And that needling sensation on his collarbone…

Harry Potter opened his eyes and gasped at the monster sitting on his chest. He almost jerked and rolled to throw it off - but he managed to control himself. That would have been a mistake. A bloody mistake. Instead, he clenched his teeth and addressed the beast. "Get off me, Crookshanks!"

The monster growled in return - Hermione called it purring, but Harry knew better - and flexed his claws, once again pricking his skin as if he was warning him what would happen if Harry tried to throw him off.

Harry bared his teeth at the blasted cat. "I said: Get off!" he snarled.

In response, Crookshanks started to lick his paw.

"You should eat him," he heard Mr Biggles say. "He's plump and fat, and just the right size for you."

Harry turned his head. His snake was watching from his habitat. "I can't eat him."

"Why not? You humans can't swallow well, but you can cut up your meals."

"Hermione would kill me if I harmed her precious pet," he explained. And the rest of the household would probably help her since the cat had managed to spot Lestrange. Crookshanks must have gained two pounds from all the treats. At least Harry's chest felt like he had.

"Hmph. If she doesn't want her pet to get eaten, she should build a habitat for it. Like you did for me! Anything outside is fair game."

Mr Biggles had obviously misunderstood his explanation. He glanced at his owl. Hedwig was staring at him, then at the snake. Harry closed his eyes. And Crookshanks was snoring. "I need to get up, Crookshanks," he mumbled. "I have to go to work."

Someone giggled. Harry opened his eyes and grabbed his wand, then relaxed when he saw it was Hermione. She shook her head as she entered his room. "Honestly, Harry, you need to stop spoiling Crookshanks. If he doesn't go away then you have to push him away." She reached out and grabbed her cat.

"Wait!" Harry yelled, but Hermione had already lifted Crookshanks up.

"What?" she asked, frowning at him.

He patted his chest. No claw marks. Of course the ugly monster would play nice when Hermione was watching. "Nothing," he said, glaring at the cat in her arms.

She huffed. "Don't act as if you're afraid of Crookshanks. Not when you're about to go out and face goblins. Or hunt Death Eaters."

He snorted. "That's different. I'm allowed to curse those."

She frowned at him. "He likes you so much he naps on your chest, and you want to curse him?"

"It's not like that!" he protested.

"He probably thought you needed protection while you slept." Hermione sighed, then cooed at the fat monster. "Don't mind him, Crookshanks - he doesn't understand cats."

Harry understood cats just fine. He just wasn't in love with them. Unlike Hermione. "He didn't want to let me get up," he explained.

"With good reason. I would also love to keep you in bed," she said, then blinked. "To keep you safe, I mean," she quickly clarified. He could see her blush, though.

But this wasn't the time for flirting. He was expected at the Ministry - or in Diagon Alley. "No one would be safe if the goblins started a war," he said.

"But you won't be safe at all," she retorted. "The goblins, the Death Eaters… why does it have to be you all the time?"

He shrugged. "It's the same for every Auror."

She scoffed. "Not all of them go out in the field."

"In this sort of crisis, they do." He chuckled. "Even Nott was in the Alley. They probably had to drag him out of his office in the archives."

She pursed her lips - as he well knew, she didn't like to be proven wrong. "Not all of them fly around Fiendfyre on their brooms, though."

"If we hadn't done that then Gringotts and Diagon Alley would have burned."

She closed her eyes and sat down on his bed. "I know. I hate it."

He wanted to hug her, but she was still holding her cat. He sighed. "We got half the Death Eaters today." Probably. "We'll get the rest soon. And the goblins will calm down."

"Until the next crisis." She opened her eyes and looked at him. "Are you going to keep doing this?"

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked. "Leave it to others?"

He could see her clench her teeth. "I want you to be safe," she whispered.

He smiled and squeezed her shoulder. "I'll do my best."

She tilted her head, resting her cheek on his hand for a moment. "You better," she whispered with her eyes closed.

Harry really wanted to hug her. Reassure her that he would be fine. Kiss her.

But Crookshanks was staring at him.


London, Diagon Alley, December 2nd, 1998

When Harry Potter and Ron arrived in Diagon Alley after midnight, the massive conjured rock that contained the remains of the Fiendfyre still occupied most of the area in front of Gringotts. "Is it still burning inside?" he asked the closest Auror, Brown, nodding at the rock.

Brown shook his head. "The Unspeakables said that the fire must have been extinguished. But Shacklebolt said not to remove the rock until tomorrow morning. Just to be certain."

"Ah." A sensible precaution, in Harry's opinion.

"Where is Hit-Wizard Leader Smith?" Ron asked. "We need to report in."

"Leaky Cauldron."

Harry frowned. "He should be here. He can't command from there if anything happens."

Brown shrugged. "Probably better if he's not here if anything happens. You know how Hit-Wizards are," he added with a grin.

"Bones will have his head," Harry said. Ineptitude, or dereliction of duty - either way, Smith was done for.

"No, she won't." Brown scoffed. "He's a cousin of Eleonora Smith." The Head of the Smith family.

"Bones won't care," Harry retorted.

"She won't antagonise Smith unless something actually happens," Brown said. "Even Bones doesn't like making enemies for no reason."

"No reason?" Harry scoffed. "We're staring down the goblins to prevent a war, and Smith is putting everything at risk just so he can stay out of the cold!"

"Bones knows as well as you do that we are all better off without Smith actually being in charge." Brown grinned. "And if something does happen, she can get rid of him."

Ron snorted. "At least he'll be useful as a scapegoat."

It still wasn't right, in Harry's opinion. "Bones would fire anyone in Smith's place without his family ties."

"Not many of those around," Brown said. "So, you're in charge?"

Harry stared at him, then snorted. "Might as well be." He was certainly a better choice than Smith.


The goblins were still ready for a war, as far as Harry Potter could tell after his quick inspection of the 'front', as the Hit-Wizards called the entrance to the bank. Two dozen of them were standing there, weapons drawn, sneering at him as he flew by on his broom.

The second shift of the Hit-WIzards had taken up their positions in the area as well, with half a dozen Aurors - mostly younger ones - reinforcing them. If the goblins tried anything, they wouldn't get far - the wizards had good cover and overlapping fields of fire.

He looked at Ron, flying next to him, and pointed down. Half a minute later, both were standing next to Brown again, a little behind the front. "Who's covering the tunnels?"

"Fawley," the Auror answered. "Shacklebolt sent her down there to monitor the tunnel. It leads to the muggle sewers, actually." He frowned. "Tunnels?"

"If the goblins try something, I don't think they'll charge straight at us," Harry explained. "They'll try to use tunnels to flank us."

Brown gasped. "But…" He looked at the ground. "You think they're burrowing beneath us?"

"I think they've got a number of tunnels already prepared," Harry said.

"Since the last rebellion," Ron added.

"Merlin's arse! They could have tunnels to anywhere!"

Harry inclined his head. "They won't risk travelling through the muggle areas." Such a threat to the Statute of Secrecy would certainly bring in the ICW. "But the Alley?" He shook his head. "They won't have many tunnels ready."

"Too much risk of being discovered by accident," Ron cut in. "But they'll have prepared some, and dug others halfway. Which is why we need to monitor the entire underground area."

"Fawley won't like it," Brown said. "She was angry enough at having to pass through a muggle sewer."

"Tough," Harry said. He didn't care how closely related to the Fawley family the witch was - this was too important.


"...and make sure that your relief continues where you stopped," Harry Potter said. "We need to map all the tunnels beneath the Alley."

Fawley glared at him. "Who put you in charge? Shacklebolt said Smith from the Hit-Wizards would take over as commander."

"Smith decided to hide from the cold and holed up in the Cauldron." Harry scoffed. "This needs to be done, and it's your task."

"My task is to map and monitor the Death Eaters' escape tunnel. No one said anything about other tunnels." The witch scowled.

"An obvious oversight." Harry shrugged. "This is important. We have to be aware of any attempt by the goblins to outflank us."

"You're not in charge of me!" she spat. "You're a rookie!"

"I don't see anyone else taking charge of this mess," Harry retorted. "Do you want to be responsible for a pack of goblins attacking us from behind?"

"Why don't you go and check if it's so important?" She scoffed.

"Because someone has to keep an eye on the situation here," he responded. And it certainly wouldn't be her. He narrowed his eyes at her. "So get the rest of your group and start doing your duty! You can complain to Bones later - and explain to her why you refused to secure our position."

"I most certainly shall!" She huffed, but she turned around and started to walk towards the tunnel entrance.

Harry sighed. "Why the hell are we surrounded by idiots?"

Ron shrugged. "It's the graveyard shift. That means it's staffed by rookies and those who screwed up or annoyed their superiors."

Harry would have thought that in this sort of crisis, people wouldn't keep following such policies, but he feared that Ron was correct.


London, Ministry of Magic, December 2nd, 1998

"Harry! Ron! Bones wants to see you."

Harry Potter struggled not to roll his eyes and curse at Bathilda. She was just the messenger.

Ron, though, didn't try to hide his annoyance. "Now? Bloody hell, we just spent eight hours staring goblins down at night! Can't this wait?"

The witch winced. "I didn't ask her. She did sound annoyed, though."

"That's normal for her," Ron retorted. "Ah, well, let's go. I want to go home and sleep as soon as possible."

"Yeah," Harry echoed the sentiment as he got up. Their reports would have to wait. He smiled at Bathilda. "Not your fault."

"I know," she replied, smiling slightly. "Everyone's on edge."

"Understandably." Harry nodded as they left their office. Bones probably wanted a first-hand report on the situation in Diagon Alley. She'd be under pressure from the Minister and the Wizengamot.

Bathilda excused herself halfway to Bones's office - apparently, Dawlish was burying her in his paperwork. Of course, she didn't word it quite as bluntly, but Harry knew the man.


Bones was angry, Harry Potter could tell at a glance when he and Ron entered her office. She was frowning far more than usual, and her lips were tightly pressed together.

"Madam Bones," he greeted her. Ron nodded.

"Auror Potter. Auror Weasley. Take a seat." Bones barely moved her head, just glancing at the two chairs in front of her desk. "I want to know what happened in Diagon Alley."

"We were called in because there was an incident in Gringotts," Harry started.

She shook her head, interrupting him. "Not that. The last shift." She leaned forward. "The Hit-Wizards aren't happy with you."

Ron snorted. "When are they ever happy?"

Bones glared at him. "Neither are Smith and Fawley."

Ah. Harry shrugged. "Someone had to take charge, and Smith was hiding in the Cauldron. Fawley didn't see the bigger picture."

"And you did." Bones sounded rather flat.

"Yes." Harry nodded.

"They didn't find any goblin tunnels under Diagon Alley," the witch went on.

"They found several tunnels that are close enough to Gringotts that the goblins could reach them after just a little digging," Harry retorted. "They're now under observation."

"On your orders." She was still frowning.

"Yes." Harry refrained from adding that someone had to give those orders.

"You didn't have the authority to give such orders." Bones shook her head. "You didn't clear them with Smith."

"There was no time to check. We had to secure the tunnels," Harry replied.

"And Smith is useless anyway," Ron added. "He probably would have caved when Fawley started complaining."

Bones's frown turned into a glare. "You had ample time to clear your order to patrol the tunnels with Smith."

"I informed Shacklebolt when we were relieved," Harry said. "He had no problem with the order."

Bones shook her head. "And you told him that you gave the order?"

"Yes." Of course he had told Shacklebolt.

"And that it wasn't cleared with Smith?"

"We told him that Smith hadn't left the Cauldron during the entire time we were in the Alley, and so we had to run things," Ron said.

"We didn't mention Fawley, though," Harry admitted. "I thought she'd complain to him anyway."

Bones scoffed. "She complained to Oliver Fawley. And Smith complained to Eleanor Smith."

"Aren't they supposed to go to through the chain of command instead of going to their families?" Harry pointed out.

"They sound as bad as Draco Malfoy." Ron shook his head.

"The chain of command you ignored?" Bones raised an eyebrow.

"Dealing with a threat is more important than following procedure," Harry retorted.

"Moody." Bones shook her head. "If you plan for a successful career in the Ministry, he isn't the best example to follow."

"Because he doesn't do politics?" Harry asked, narrowing his eyes slightly.

"Yes." Bones met his eyes. "Even the Boy-Who-Lived can't afford to make too many enemies in the Wizengamot."

"I'm not about to let the goblins storm Diagon Alley just so Smith and Fawley don't go running to their families," Harry shot back.

"You don't have to. But you have to be more diplomatic if you plan to be more than a paranoid old Auror." Bones shook her head. "Your godfather's gold won't be enough to help you. The Old Families value their pride very highly and have long memories. With Moody out of action for months, you can't use him to deflect their ire."

"I'm not planning to," Harry spat. "I didn't become an Auror to curry favour with the Old Families."

"Antagonising the Wizengamot won't do anyone any good," Bones retorted. "They might not be able to get the Boy-Who-Lived fired, but they can make life very difficult for you and your godfather. And that means your work will suffer." She leaned forward. "And if you don't follow the rules and procedures, you better have a very good reason or I'll fire you myself. I won't tolerate loose cannons in the Corps."

"I understand," Harry said through clenched teeth.

She sighed. "I'm not completely happy with the way the system works either. But ignoring it isn't the answer. We have a duty towards our country, and we can't neglect it just because we're unhappy with its politics."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Or they could change the bloody system.


London, No 12 Grimmauld Place, December 2nd, 1998

Hermione Granger knew that she shouldn't have gone along with Sirius's idea of a cover for their secret basement area. Or, at least, should have prevented him and Jeanne from decorating the room. "'Nothing a little Transfiguration and Conjuration won't be able to handle', hah!" she muttered, glaring at the 'device' in the corner. She was tempted to transfigure it into something less distracting, but she had already done so to half a dozen contraptions, and the more she did, the more time it would take to revert the room to what Harry thought was normal.

Vanishing was no solution either - she'd have to replace anything she vanished through Conjuration, which would require the same amount of time. And she would have to study something in detail to replicate it. Which, in this case, would be even more distracting, she thought as she felt her cheeks grow warm again.

And she couldn't afford any distractions - she had to plan both a heist and a believable distraction of her own. A distraction that wouldn't reveal - and therefore ruin - any of her plans for the other manors.

That ruled out an attempt at disguising herself; the last thing she wanted was for the guards at Greengrass Manor to be aware of such a ploy. Although a double-bluff… no. That wouldn't work for that sort of setup. A tunnel was a possibility - but would it be believable, with one such plan having apparently already failed at Longbottom Manor? Would it be plausible to make an attempt on Grimmauld Place, with the ruckus of Bellatrix Lestrange's visit barely over? Though it would, of course, fit a group of thieves reckless enough to fake a Death Eater attack as cover for a heist.

A tunnel would be easy to arrange and hard, but not impossible, to detect. For Harry, at least. It would also draw attention to the basement, but that could be handled. And the muggle sewers would provide ample opportunities to retreat in safety. A fake trap would slow pursuit, the labyrinth of tunnels beneath London offered many hiding spots and all it took was one Apparition to escape.

And yet she didn't like that plan. Too obvious. Too blatant. Too boring, too. It didn't fit the daring band of thieves who had twice, thus far, made the Old Families and the Aurors look like fools. And yet, she couldn't afford to reveal a working plan for a mere diversion. Not when each successive heist would already be more difficult.

Hermione blinked. She couldn't use one of her future plans. But a past plan? She could easily adapt that without hamstringing her plans for future heists.

And she had just the ploy in mind.

Smiling, she started to make plans.


Hermione Granger was barely halfway through her planning - their escape had to be assured, this time; she wouldn't repeat her near-fatal mistake - when Jeanne disturbed her.

"Hermione?"

"Yes?" Hermione forced herself to hide her lingering annoyance at the room's furniture and decor; Jeanne should have reined in Sirius, instead of helping him turn the room into a boudoir. Or a dungeon.

"Harry and Ron will be back soon."

Hermione didn't gasp, but she whipped her head round to check the clock on the wall. Had she already spent two hours planning? She should have known better than to lose track of time; that was how thieves were caught. She nodded slowly, ignoring Jeanne's faint smile. "Alright. I'll move to the library and act as if I've been reading and researching."

"And worrying for Harry."

"That, too," she admitted with a wry smile. It wasn't as if that were a secret. Frowning, she added: "He still won't quit the Aurors."

"Did you expect him to?" Jeanne asked, leaning against the doorframe as Hermione quickly stashed her notes in her enchanted pocket.

She sighed. "Not really." But she had had a little hope. "I just want him to be safe. He and Ron don't have to do everything." There were lots of other Aurors who could risk their lives as well. Like that idiot Dawlish. If he caught a curse in lieu of Harry, that would at least make up for his attempts to frame Hermione.

"They're among the best Aurors Britain has," Jeanne pointed out. "So Sirius tells me."

"He's right." Hermione sighed again. "And that says a lot about the skills of the average British Auror."

"It also makes our work easier," Jeanne pointed out as they left the boudoir.

"Not for long," Hermione retorted. "They'll send Harry and Ron after us as soon as the Death Eaters are dealt with."

"That could take a while, though," Jeanne said. "As long as we don't try to fake a Death Eater attack as a diversion we shouldn't encounter Harry and Ron."

Hermione glared at her. "The plan worked."

"You were lucky."

Hermione shook her head. "Not particularly. If I had been lucky, they wouldn't have rushed in before we were done. And it doesn't matter anyway since we won't be repeating that." The Greengrass heist would go perfectly.

Jeanne smirked. "You liked when he chased after you, though."

"I liked beating him," Hermione corrected her friend. All those lessons playing the helpless witch, but she won as soon as she stopped holding back.

Jeanne smiled. "I see."

Hermione glanced at the French witch, but refrained from asking what exactly Jeanne thought she had seen.


It felt good to return home, Harry Potter thought as he and Ron arrived in Grimmauld Place. And it felt better to see his family safe and sound. Well, Jeanne. He looked around.

"Sirius is at the Ministry. An emergency session of the Wizengamot," she explained.

"Hermione as well, then," he nodded, feeling slightly disappointed. He should have expected that.

"No, she's in the library doing some research for him," Jeanne said.

"Oh." He looked at the hallway leading to the library and ignored Ron's chuckle.

"She told me to inform her as soon as you arrived, but maybe you want to go to her instead?" Jeanne asked with a sly smile.

He nodded. "She'll have questions anyway."

"I'll call Luna," Ron said as Harry left the entrance hall and went to the library.

There she was. Sitting in her usual seat, the table overloaded with books of all kinds and several scrolls and sheets of parchment. "Harry?" She blinked, then jumped up and walked towards him. "You're back! Jeanne was supposed to tell me… How are you?" she asked as she hugged him.

"I'm fine," he said, then grinned when she pulled her head back and scowled before releasing him. "No, really. There was no fighting. All we did was wait and stand guard. And a few Aurors patrolled the sewers, in case the goblins were trying to tunnel underneath us."

"Ah." She slowly nodded. "Sensible. They are quite adept at tunnelling."

He snorted. "I wish everyone realised that. Bones was angry that I told the other Aurors to watch the tunnels, instead of asking the Hit-Wizard nominally in charge to do it. Order them to patrol, I mean."

Hermione shook her head. "And she took offence at that?"

He shrugged. "Smith - the Hit-Wizard - and Fawley complained to their families, who complained to Bones. She wasn't happy with us. "

She scoffed. "Typical."

Harry shrugged again. "She didn't punish us, but she warned us that if we ignored procedure and chain of command again, we'd better have a damned good reason."

"She should be rewarding you for your initiative and insight, not condoning such nepotism!" Hermione snarled. "Keeping everyone safe is more important than catering to some Old Family's pride."

He smiled. She understood. "Yes. But until the Ministry's reformed, we'll have to deal with that. I just wish Moody were healed already - he knew how to deal with this kind of stupidity."

She nodded as she leaned against the table. "They can't fire the Boy-Who-Lived, though."

"No, but Bones warned me that any waves I make might harm Sirius's efforts in the Wizengamot." He moved a little closer to her. "Speaking of which, what are you researching?"

"Gringotts' history," she answered. "Sirius needs a good grounding in it to be able to deal with the goblins."

"Binns went into quite a lot of detail," Harry said, then winced - he hadn't wanted to remind Hermione that she had only had one and a half years of the ghost as a teacher.

She shrugged, though. "It's been decades for him, and his memory isn't the best."

"That could be bad in today's session." If the Wizengamot made the situation worse…

She shook her head. "It'll mostly be focused on finding out what happened. Unless the goblins start a war, the Wizengamot won't decide anything today. Or tomorrow. They'll need more time to make up their minds. Or let others make up their minds for them," she added with a sneer.

"Ah." That was reassuring and worrying at the same time. "Business as usual then."

"More or less. Did you confirm the deaths of two of the Death Eaters?"

"Not yet. The Unspeakables are still working on that. Fiendfyre doesn't leave many traces that can be used to identify a victim." He saw her shudder at that and reached out to hold her shoulder. "I think we did get them, though I'll have to study the scene in the Pensieve to be sure."

She nodded. "When do you need to return to the Ministry?"

"Well…" He grinned. "Technically, with Moody in St Mungo's, Ron and I are in charge of the Death Eater case, and we haven't been assigned another shift in Diagon Alley, so… we can decide when we work, more or less."

"Wasn't the entire team on that case just Moody and you two?" Hermione asked.

"Yes." He nodded with a smirk. "I don't know if this will last. They might have Shacklebolt replace Moody - but he's needed for other duties as well. Until someone tells me otherwise, we'll go on as usual."

"Just be careful. I don't want to lose you." She was biting her lower lip.

He gently squeezed her shoulder. "We already got two of them. Halfway done."

"I won't stop worrying until all of them are gone," she retorted.

There wasn't much he could say to that, so he took a step forward and hugged her in place of a response. She stiffened for a moment, then relaxed in his arms. They remained like that for a little, then he released her. "You know, I've been thinking…" he said. Almost dying to Death Eaters and Fiendfyre had that effect.

"Hm? About what?"

Harry wet his lips with his tongue before answering. "About us."

She stiffened again, slowly nodding. He couldn't tell if that was a good or a bad thing - her expression seemed to be more wary than anything else.

He pressed on anyway. "I like you. A lot. You probably noticed."

She nodded again. "Yes."

"And, well, I'd like it if there was an us, you know?" Not his best line. Rather awkward, actually. But it told her enough.

She took a deep breath - he saw her chest expand. "I'd like that as well."

Yes! He started to smile.

"But…" She bit her lower lip as she crushed his hopes. "I'd really like that, but there's… I can't have a relationship with you right now."

He frowned. That sounded bad. Ominous. "Why not?" She wasn't pregnant with Paul's child, was she? No, the dates didn't add up. And she would have told him if she had been seeing the guy again. Did her parents hate wizards after their experiences? He hadn't had that impression when he had met them last time.

She clenched her teeth. "I'm not ready for a serious relationship. Or any relationship. With all the troubles, and my work..." She shook her head. "I'm sorry." She blinked again, then rubbed her eyes. Or wiped tears from them. "I wish I were ready for a relationship."

"I understand." He forced himself to smile. It wasn't her work. Or the crisis. It had to be Paul's fault. He should have a talk with that git. Find out what the bastard had done to her. He reached out to pat her shoulder. She didn't flinch.

"I'm sorry," she whispered again.

Harry nodded. He took a deep breath. "It's… Paul didn't hurt you, did he?"

"What?" She blinked. "No, no." She scoffed. "I would have cursed him if he had tried anything. But the breakup with him taught me that I'm not ready for a serious relationship."

He believed her - about Paul, anyway. But he wasn't willing to give up on her. She liked him too; she had admitted that. "It doesn't have to be, you know, too serious. We can just go out together and see how things develop." Baby steps. Show her that he wasn't Paul.

She frowned and he was about to reassure her when he felt something in his pocket vibrate.

What the… His eyes widened when he pulled out a small coin.

It was the alert from the spells they had placed on the hunting lodge in Herefordshire.

The Death Eaters were there!