Chapter 127 – Planning Operation Magic Castle
Lucius Malfoy was pleased that Madam Bunswil acknowledged his request for a meeting so quickly, although the dread of seeing her again spiked as he realized that event would now occur in hours, not days. He had gotten the packet of information from Auror Stark, confirming that no progress had been made at all in the Auror's investigation beyond gathering basic forensic information from the body. He also had the dead man's wand.
The connection of the would-be assassin to the ruling family in India was curious finding, although the report that discussed the traces of pollen and such on the man's clothes seemed rather cut and dried. It seemed odd that the Aurors pursued that one detail, when they did so little in other areas. Lucius certainly never harbored any desire to be an Auror, but he did spend a moment idly pondering what the next step in an investigation like this would be were he in such a job. The role of an Auror was far too constrained; he had options they did not, and he could not fathom having to do this without his special resources.
That brought him back to his appointment with Madam Bunswil at her London town home. She'd told him that her floo would be open to him at 4 that afternoon, should he wish to step through for tea. It was nearly 4 now. Lucius gave his carefully-combed hair a final pat and adjusted his robe for the third time, and as the antique muggle clock chimed to signal the hour, he threw down floo powder and stepped into the grate in his office.
Lucius had never been to Madam Bunswil's home, he realized. He'd seen her many times, but always at Malfoy Manor. He stepped into her parlor, a large and well-lit space decorated in shades of cream and gold, with touches of deep crimson and dark green. The furniture was obviously antique, the appointments exquisite and the carpets the finest Persians.
Somehow, he'd been expecting something more severe, plainer and definitely darker. This looked like the apartments kept by some of the dowagers in the Malfoy family, not the home of someone like the frightening woman he recalled as Madam Bunswil. He self-consciously stepped over to a large display cabinet for a closer look at some of the items it housed.
His hostess was awaiting his arrival, but felt it was important for him to have a moment alone in her drawing room before she joined him. She preferred to receive clients in her home nowadays, and in fact had furnished the public areas very intentionally to create an impression of old money and great opulence. Her arrival was always at least one minute, never more than two, after they stepped through her floo. She had no desire to be rude, but wanted them in the correct frame of mind when she joined them.
When the requisite seconds had passed, the old woman drew her silk shawl closer across her shoulders and hobbled into the parlor. She was a curious blend of Grand Dame and Bohemian seer. Her bearing was regal and her jewels magnificent in a very traditional way, but her hair, now all grey, was long and loose and she covered her brocade gown with a silk shawl rather than traditional wizard robes. She was pleased to see her guest studying some of her trinkets.
"Ah, young Master Malfoy, although with the passage of time, it's Lord Malfoy now, isn't it?" she began, intent on creating an intimacy of shared history. "It has been too many years. How are you, my boy?"
Lucius turned with very uncharacteristic ill grace, clenching and unclenching his fists at his side, as he struggled to maintain his cool composure. He managed an arrogant smile as he bowed slightly, stealing the briefest possible glance at his hostess' face. "Madam Bunswil – I would recognize you immediately, it is as if no time as passed at all!" he replied. "I am well, as is my family."
She caught the glance, and smiled inwardly. "I am no longer as . . . active as I was when last we met, but I expect that I will be able to provide you with the information you require, young man. Have a seat," she offered, pointing toward a sofa set to the side of the room, "and we can discuss the situation about which you contacted me."
Happy for something to do to ease his very uncharacteristic discomfort, Lucius strode purposefully over to the sofa and took his seat, extracting the packet of information and wand he'd gotten from the Aurors. When Madam Bunswill had settled herself on a nearby chair, he began.
"I was asked by the Minister of Magic to assist the Aurors on a matter that has thus far eluded them. You no doubt have heard of the attempt on the life of Severus Snape at the Ministry on the afternoon that he was invested with his Order of Merlin, First Class?" Lucius didn't actually break to see if she nodded, as he was keeping his eyes on the packet of information in his hands. After a second or two, he resumed. "The Aurors have made almost no progress in identifying the would-be assassin, and I believe that Harry Potter has now expressed concern, leading the Minister herself to ask me to assist. I have the Ministry's preliminary assessment of his remains. I understand that there is some suspicion that he was in the employ of the Rakshashas of India, and there is some evidence that the man was in India at some point. And I have his wand."
Lucius stole a quick glance at Madam Bunswill's chin, avoiding the eyes at all costs, and reached out to pass the parchments and wand over to her.
Madam Bunswill put the parchments on a nearby table, but fingered the wand in her gnarled, bony hands for a long moment, murmuring softly as she did so.
This was, indeed, the wand of someone with distinctive magic, maybe even some unique magical abilities. Definitely not from India – no one from that part of the world had magic that worked like this. Nothing Asian here, either. European, for sure. Not from anywhere near the Mediterranean Sea, no, the magic down there had a unique twinge to it. Central, most likely. Romanian, maybe Transylvanian, or perhaps Hungarian? There were some families from that part of the world that had been known to have unusual magic. Likely the man in question was from that area. But there was something else – something in there she would swear come from Scotland, a small bit of magic. Curious, but not likely linked to his identity or place of origin.
She looked up at her guest, and noticed his new tactic – he was studying her chin to avoid looking at her eyes. It was time to talk business.
"What do you wish to know, Lord Malfoy? His name? His ancestry?" she asked bluntly.
"I believe we need that, and anything of interest or note about his magic."
Madam Bunswil nodded. "I see." The man's wand alone had already enabled her to narrow this search down significantly, and to a part of the world with which she was familiar and where she had a strong network of contacts. It was actually surprising that the Aurors hadn't resolved this on their own. The only possible challenge was if this was needed immediately, or if that one bit of magic from Scotland was a key element of identifying him. "How quickly do you require this information, my dear?" she asked.
Lucius had thought about the time aspect of this, but he wasn't sure himself. "I would like to report back as soon as I can, I would hope within a week, if that's possible."
She shook her head. "It ought not be a problem, at all. I will review your material here, study the wand a bit more closely, and dispatch an owl or two. I will have a better understanding of the time this will take by tomorrow, and I will owl you then. It is possible that I can provide you with what you require in a day or two, but I might need a bit more time."
Madam Bunswil noticed that Lucius looked relieved at the news. His father had always been very taken by titles and rank, and no doubt the son was as well. Lucius had made something of a stunning move toward respectability, joining the Wizengamot. No doubt, this was the first time the Minister asked him to assist the Ministry in this way, and he wanted to impress her.
Lucius smiled tightly, but raised his eyes only to the tip of Madam Bunswil's nose. "And your fee. We must establish that," he noted.
The old woman sighed. "My vault at Gringotts has as much gold as I'm likely to need for the rest of my days, and I've bought all the furniture, and rugs and baubles I can fit in here. You have made a very simple request, Lord Malfoy, not likely to involve much of my time or resources. I require no fee for this. I would ask that you cover any expenses that might be necessarily incurred, if there are any, and that I be among those invited to your daughter's christening!"
Lucius felt a jolt of unease. He was relying on this woman, a woman known for knowing things. It concerned him that she did not seem to know that he had a son, not a daughter, a young man old enough to have recently become married himself. He hoped this wasn't the first sign of mental deterioration or confusion, and resolved to doublecheck whatever information she provided to him, just in case.
"Thank you, Madam Bunswil," he said. "This is most generous of you. Please let me know if you incur any expenses, and we will definitely include you in an event at the Manor soon." Maybe she missed the social scene? Possibly an invitation to something with the Minister would please her? He'd speak to Narcissa about this.
When Lucius had taken his leave, the old woman took the parchments and wand she'd gotten from him over to a desk, and cast a lumos charm to provide light. Madam Bunswil had a smile on her face, and quite a twinkle in her hazel eyes.
She'd cast that spell on Lucius, causing him to see frightening black eyes, when he was not much more than four or five years old. He'd been an annoying brat, and at that time, she still needed the fees she collected from his father and others like him. The cruel little boy and his cousin loved to taunt her about her ugly appearance, which she found distracting and upsetting. She feared her loss of focus might cause her work to suffer, and her clients to discontinue using her services. She cast a spell that caused the boys to see her with solid black eyes. It had the desired effect then – the boys were terrified. They were loath to be in her presence, kept their own eyes averted from hers, and suddenly became very polite. The parents noticed their sons' change of attitude, which actually increased their perception of her insights. It allowed her to continue her work with the parents, certainly to her financial advantage, and presumably her insights and information advantaged them, as well.
How amazing that the little bit of magic she'd cast all those years ago was still in place! It never occurred to her that the boys would see her with those awful black eyes past their teens. She was secretly quite pleased with herself about this.
After just a half an hour reviewing the Ministry notes, which confirmed her first impressions after touching the wand, and some further careful assessment of the magic retained in the wand, she was very confident that this was the wand of a member of a particular clan that had lived for centuries in the Carpathian Mountains. Before she stirred herself to prepare for an early supper, she'd penned two notes to old friends in that area, and saw them on their way via owl. She still had to puzzle out that little bit that absolutely had a Scottish flavor, but that was unlikely to take too much effort.
She might have the answers Lucius required by tomorrow.
X X X X X X X X X X
Vernon Dursley was having a very good week.
Over breakfast just this past Monday morning, Petunia had expressed concern that his employers at Grunnings might not be pleased with all the time he was spending out of the office these days. Even Miss Enderlee had cast a disapproving look at him when he left the office right after lunch yesterday. Those women just didn't understand the way of things.
One of the men who had taken up with the anti-wizard group, Sir Harold Beckwith, was a very (VERY) wealthy industrialist from Nottingham. It turned out that he owned a number of manufacturing plants that used drills. Lots of drills, the big ones. Over supper last night, right before yet another rally, he'd signed a contract with Vernon for Grunnings to supply his firm with drills for the next ten years. It was the biggest contract ever awarded to Grunnings. Far from becoming a pariah at the office because of all the time he was spending elsewhere, he was now the hero. His bonus this year was going to be the biggest ever paid by the firm. He was already thinking of the things he'd be buying once all that money was his!
And that wasn't the end of it. Quite a few of the gentlemen he'd met through this endeavor had businesses. He'd mentioned his Grunnings connection to them. Sir Harold was something of a celebrity, and when Vernon let it slip that he and Sir Harold had signed a contract, he knew that the others would be queuing to sign soon, too.
Sir Harold was also a driving leader, and one with a very short fuse. He'd started attending more of the rallies over the last several weeks, and had begun joining the strategy sessions that Vernon, Charles Frost and Reggie Mason usually held after the meetings with one or another of the Riddle cousins. Sir Harold had challenged Charles Frost to accelerate plans to attack the wizard stronghold.
Charles had gotten people focused on doing something about that awful castle in Scotland where they were all holed up, but he was proving himself to be very cautious in how to go about this. Curiously, the Riddles, who didn't seem like the sharpest group, seemed to agree with him about this. They were worried about what sort of weapons would be effective against people with magic, and even suggested that British weaponry might not be able to inflict damage!
Sir Harold was losing patience, and the strategy session tonight was getting heated.
"I've got an arsenal, I tell you, an arsenal!" Sir Harold said with emotion. He wasn't used to not having others agree with him immediately. "Not just guns and enough ammunition to take out the inhabitants of a castle three times over, but tanks, and cannon! I even have five Apache helicopters! I can reduce the place to a heap of stones in a few hours! I can fully equip an army right this very minute. Frost, all you have to do is give us directions to this place, and we'll get volunteers assembled. I have people on retainer who can whip them into a credible fighting force in a week, and we'll take the wizards on."
Charles looked a bit ill at ease, but he stroked his chin a moment, and finally nodded at Sir Harold. "I harbor strong reservations about the plan, but will not stand in your way, Sir Harold. If you wish to assemble your force and prepare it for battle, I will make myself available to assist you in locating the castle. They've got it well hidden, but if you know where it is and what to look for, you'll be able to see it."
Sir Harold slammed his fist on the table with glee. "A round of the finest whiskey, gentlemen! Action! Nothing like it!" he crowed.
Vernon beamed. He had concluded that Frost was a good man, decisive and thoughtful, but cautious, too. A good blend. And now Vernon was a central part of something very significant here, and he was very proud to know these men.
Inwardly, Cornelius Fudge sighed. Let that fool Sir Harold arm and train a band of muggles. They were all expendable, after all, and they would be expended, or at least totally ineffective, of that he was sure. If anything, Sir Harold's rashness played into his plans. He had expressed his reservations in vague terms, mostly along the lines of not knowing how magic would impact a typical muggle battle plan. Of course, he knew that spells would disable most of the weapons immediately, the wards of the castle would prevent any of this force from approaching too close, and who knew what else the wizards would come up with? This was not going to accomplish anything.
That Sir Harold had no chance of succeeding was a foregone conclusion; the only question was, at what price would this loss come? Would it be a bloodbath, or would the muggles be shown to be totally ineffective and just sent packing? That was really the only question.
He'd stand back, and "learn" from watching the debacle. He'd then be in an even better position to guide the remaining muggles toward an attack plan that actually stood a chance against a wizard fortress.
He looked around the table at his companions. Sir Harold was a lost cause. The Dursley man was a spineless toad, but he seemed to have adopted Cornelius as his leader now, which was good, because that Reggie Mason seemed quite out of his league if anything more than organizing a rally was needed. Then he looked at Hiram Riddle, one of the group of cousins.
The Riddles seemed to be a reasonable bunch, if not the brightest. They accepted his cautions about the possible impact of magic on a traditional muggle assault. They had agreed with him about the possibility of needing very different weaponry. A few of them even told him that they'd found some sources of old-fashioned weapons, and had made a few discreet purchases that would be available to the muggles if Sir Harold's plans did not work. Good men!
X X X X X X X X X X
The very same Hiram "Riddle" was back in Little Hangleton later that evening, reporting to his Dark Lord.
"Despite our best efforts, my Lord, there is one muggle quite intent on leading a traditional muggle assault on Hogwarts. Charles Frost advocated against such hasty action, maintaining, as I had suggested to him, that they needed a better understanding of magic and how it might effect muggle weapons before taking such a step. I supported Frost, of course, as I don't want attention on me. But there's one muggle in the group, a Sir Harold Beckwith, who is waiting for nothing and accepting no counsel but his own," Hiram ventured, sitting at the long wooden table and nervously wringing his hands.
The worst part was not being able to predict how the Dark Lord would take news that might, or might not, be what he wanted to hear.
Hiram released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding when a smile came over the snake-like face of his Lord.
"They're all just muggles, and foolish ones at that," Voldemort hissed. "It will be our entertainment, then, to watch the fools try to mount an assault on a magical castle with their muggle weapons. They'll have no impact." The room rang briefly with Voldemort's breathy laughter. He grew silent as quickly as he'd begun to laugh, as he continued. "I wonder how the Ministry will handle this, given that it's Hogwarts and not a Ministry location. They might even create more trouble for themselves if they overreact. Well done, Hiram."
Not to be outdone, others around the table offered up their own stories of the groups they were influencing, and the progress they were making.
It finally occurred to Voldemort that more than a few of his followers had taken the same surname, Riddle.
"And, my friends, is there no question about the fact that so many of you share a surname?" he asked. Despite his words, there was no friendship in his voice.
Hiram jumped in first. "No, my Lord, we have told them that we are cousins. Most of the muggles have only met two or three of us, so they are quite accepting that we know one another through our families. We are generally referred to by the muggles as the Riddle cousins."
Voldemort lifted his head back and roared in laughter at the ease with which his Death Eaters had duped the muggles.
At the same time, Sir Harold Beckwith was meeting with his team of retainers at his country estate in Scotland. They were making final arrangements to recruit men for this paramilitary endeavor, planning for their training and for the eventual attack. The estate was in a very isolated area, and Sir Harold had been stockpiling all manner of ordnance there for years, always fearing some conspiracy or other that would threaten his far-flung businesses. Sir Harold liked to be prepared, as he was wont to repeat to anyone who would listen.
Tonight, his military advisor was leading the discussion. Sir Harold had hired the Brigadier upon his retirement from active duty with the Royal Marines to help him maintain his military readiness. The Brigadier had initially been wary of the offer to head up what was essentially a private army, and he declined. Sir Harold was not used to hearing "no" and he redoubled his efforts to lure the man. The amount of money offered, as well as the idyllic rural location of "the Armory," were what eventually won him over. He'd also been very impressed with his new employer's stockpile of weapons, some of which were not even available to the average member of the Royal Marines. After a month or two spent becoming familiar with the weapons on hand, and setting up protocols to assure that fresh ammunition was available, the Brigadier had the Armory in a state of complete readiness. Most of the Brigadier's time since then (aside from the time he spent in a magic-induced sleep in the Armory's basement) had been spent making the acquaintance of the local fishing streams, the one thing he'd really missed while on active duty. He saw tonight's meeting as a welcome break from the quiet life in the country.
"Alright, then, laddies, if our target is a castle in a remote part of Scotland, we'll need some heavy artillery, and it takes time to train someone who's never handled that. Same with the tanks – it's not like taking the family Rover out for a spin, now is it? And we have helicopters, but no way those go up without qualified pilots." The Brigadier looked at the others around the table, waiting for someone to suggest how to fill the specialist roles that clearly needed to be filled for this endeavor to get off the ground, let alone succeed.
A nervous-looking type, who looked more like an accountant, really, spoke up. "I have contacts – I know where we can hire pilots qualified on the Apaches. Tank commanders and artillerymen, I'm not so sure."
Another nodded, and added "Sir Harold, these people you're talkin' to, might any be retired military? We can at least make use of what the Royal Marine's already taught 'em, if we can find 'em."
Before Sir Harold spoke, the Brigadier added "If we can find us some raw recruits, I can get them able to handle basic arms, and function as a unit – need just a week to do that. But the technical skills, to handle the big guns, the tanks, that lot, no, we don't have the time. And if we build a battle plan that assumes we'll have tanks and artillery at our disposal, we need to be able to rely on them."
Sir Harold was thrilled to be planning a military operation. He'd dreamt of leading an army some day, and that day was so close at hand. "Not to worry, Brigadier." To the one who looked like an accountant, he said "Use your contacts, and get us five pilots for the Apaches. Pay what you must. We'll need them."
To the rest of the table, he went on. "The men who have approached me thus far would qualify mostly as raw recruits; I'd be shocked if any of them had any military service at all. But there are dozens of them, and they couldn't be more committed to the cause. Brigadier, we'll need you to get them trained and into fighting shape. That will take the most time, so we'll begin there while I explore avenues of attracting men with military backgrounds."
"And do we know where we'll be attacking, Sir Harold," the Brigadier wanted to know. "Terrain in these parts varies greatly, and my planning will depend of whether the approach is over a field, a lake, a forest, mountains, what sort of cover we'll have, that sort o' thing. I haven't been able to find this place on any of the maps here."
"A gentleman in the group has confirmed to me that he knows the location. It's nearby here, actually, but not on maps. These wizards have some way of making it invisible or some such rot. Anyway, he said you'd be able to see it if you knew where it was and what to look for, and he knows and will tell us. I'm not sure if Mr. Frost will visit here himself, or how we'll get him to provide that, but rest assured, Brigadier, we'll know where we're headed, soon enough. He did mention a lake and a forest nearby, so I'd imagine land quite a bit like around this place, actually."
The rest of the evening was spent discussing the numbers of recruits they expected to be coming to Scotland, and what arrangements needed to be made to billet, clothe and feed them while they learned the skills they would need. Others around the table accepted responsibility for various aspects of the endeavor, and the Brigadier began a very preliminary sketch of what he dubbed "Operation Magic Castle."
X X X X X X X X X X
Harry was having a difficult time concentrating in his classes the next day. The ravens had come to him in Professor Flitwick's class and begun whispering their secrets. He thought to try to reason with them, and proposed that if they'd just wait until the break at lunchtime, he could give them his undivided attention. Maybe you can't make such requests of magical familiars, but you'd never know without asking, right?
To Harry's surprise, that effort at negotiation worked, and the birds went silent. Now he had to deal with the suspense; something was going on out there, and he didn't know what. That was his burden through the remainder of Charms and a Potions class, when finally it was time for lunch.
Harry approached Severus as the class broke up, and asked if they could go to his office for a minute. While Severus had no problem with the opportunity to spend some time with Harry, it was not their practice to seek out each other during the school day, so he was curious as to what led to this request.
Harry did not give him long to wonder. "Severus, the ravens are back. They came to me this morning, during Charms, and I asked if they could hold off until lunchtime, as I was busy."
The cheekiness of that approach earned him a soft chuckle from Severus, although as he chuckled, Severus recalled Harry commanding the earth to hold the capstone on the Well of Despair, and the earth doing as told. Surely, if the earth herself was compelled to do the King's bidding, how could a couple of legendary magical familiars do anything less?
"No, I've been thinking that there has to be a more efficient way for this to work, this vision thing. Anyway, it did work," Harry went on, casting a look at Severus, who quieted the chuckle. "I assume they have something to tell me and will do it now. Rather than have to deal with whatever this is in the Great Hall, I thought I'd ask to wait for it here. I'll have to tell you right away, anyway, and maybe there's a more efficient way to share the information with you so if I've forgotten anything I can . . . ."
Harry's voice trailed off abruptly, as the visions overtook him. He initially thought this was some sort of rerun of the vision he'd had earlier, of the muggle military assault, but he realized the men were not wearing uniforms. Otherwise, it was very similar to the earlier vision. As he was immersed in what he was seeing, he remembered that his bondmate was sitting nearby, so he began to describe what he was seeing aloud.
"I see troops, landing in helicopters out near Hogsmead . . . no, closer to the lake. There are helicopters, and those, over there, tanks. Bunch of them, too. All coming toward Hogwarts – definitely Hogwarts – I see Hagrid's hut, and I'm sure that's a Centaur watching from the edge of the forest. I think those things over there are cannons. And great big guns carried by the soldiers on their shoulders, don't know what kind. Not waves and waves of soldiers – a fairly modest number, actually. They are all looking toward the castle, absolutely."
Severus had come to stand next to Harry, not sure if he could be seen or heard, but willing to hope that Harry could feel his hand on his shoulder in a show of support. He listened to the description, mind racing. "Harry, are they soldiers?" he asked. Given all that had transpired after the last muggle thought to initiate military action against Hogwarts, it did seem surprising that they would be planning that again without the wizarding world having been alerted.
"Actually, they don't seem to be in uniforms, not the kind with badges and stripes and such. Just dark muggle-looking clothes," Harry answered, a bit of surprise in his voice.
"And are you sure this is Hogwarts?" Severus now wanted to know.
Harry peered harder with unseeing eyes for a second, and answered flatly, "Yes."
Next Severus wondered "Are they actually damaging the castle?" If this was a truly muggle assault with what sounded like muggle weapons, he assumed that the wards would deflect anything they directed at the old stones.
Harry squirmed a bit in his chair, not actually moving in the real world, but possibly repositioning himself in his vision. "No, I see the guns blasting away, but the castle doesn't look hit."
Harry spent a few more moments looking with unseeing eyes at Severus as he saw the vision shown by the ravens. Finally, the vision ended, and Harry sagged back in his chair.
"Thank you for asking questions, especially the one about the castle, Severus," Harry began. "I was intent on seeing who was coming, and very sure that it was Hogwarts that they were approaching, but it was good to realize that this did, or isn't going to, whatever, actually destroy Hogwarts."
"Are you alright, then?" Severus asked. "These visions have no lingering impact?"
Harry pondered that for a moment. "In the past, they've terrified me, more than anything. They happen so fast, with no warning really, and there you are, in the middle of a battle or whatever. I think that was always the worst part. But, no, I'm fine now."
"I will tell the Headmaster that we require a word, immediately after our meal, if you are up to that," Severus suggested, still clearly a bit concerned about the the aftereffects of the vision. "Maybe we can have someone from the Ministry join us, in case there's been some important development in the muggle world they've forgotten to pass along."
Harry chuckled at that. Severus was not going to forgive the Headmaster for not sharing more immediately the news about the muggle concerns about the growing militancy of the anti-wizard movement, although his ire now seemed to have shifted to the Ministry and was no longer squarely on Albus.
Seversus had a few whispered words with Albus as he went to take his seat at the Head Table in the Great Hall a few minutes later, and he sent Harry a meaningful look as Harry squeezed in next to Neville at the Gryffindor table. Harry nodded in return, acknowledging they'd meet with the Headmaster after lunch.
For the time being, he helped himself to the chicken and potatoes on the platters before him, and joined in the raucous conversation that was rolling along the table. He heard about Seamus' success in wooing a pretty Hufflepuff who'd caught his eye, some new Quidditch plays Ron had been working out, and heard second-hand stories of a spectacular Charms mishap in the second-year Gryffindor/Slytherin class that had landed five members of the class in the Infirmary.
Harry could feel Hermione's eyes on him as he paid attention to his friends and offered appropriate rejoinders to the bits of conversation directed his way. If he thought he was behaving in a way that gave away nothing of the concern he felt after seeing the vision shared by the ravens, he had underestimated Hermione. She held her tongue, almost encouraging him to enjoy the break of this meal shared with his friends; she'd corner him later and find out why he looked drawn as she did.
Try as he might to get out of the Great Hall quickly as soon as he saw Severus finish his meal, Harry found himself pulled aside by Hermione as soon as he got past the doors.
"What is wrong with you, Harry? You look awful," she began.
With a smile, Harry replied, "Why, thanks, Hermione, nice of you to notice."
That earned him a small punch to the arm. "You know what I mean. You are pale, and the skin around your eyes is all tight. Your mouth looked a bit pinched, too, when you sat down. What's going on? Are you alright?" she demanded.
"I'm fine, Mione, really I am. I had another visit from the ravens, it looks like another muggle attack on Hogwarts is being planned. Not the military, I don't think, but they sure had weapons. Severus told the Headmaster we need to see him, that's where I'm headed now. I'll let you know if anything more comes of it."
With a look that told him he would let her know if he knew what was good for him, she stepped aside silently and allowed him to pass.
Up in the Headmaster's office, he joined Severus as they waited for Kingsley Shaklebolt and Auror Stark to arrive in Harry's own offices. Albus had been happy to arrange for the meeting, but felt Harry's offices were more appropriate when the Ministry was invited. Appearances, and all.
When the heard the swoosh of the floo, the three wizards walked over to the other offices and greeted the new arrivals.
Harry took the lead as the host of the meeting, directing the men to seats in the office. "Thank you both for joining us. I had a vision from the ravens right before lunch, and Severus felt we needed to bring this to your attention right away."
He described a muggle force, with some significant muggle weapons, attacking the castle, in as much detail as he could remember. He described what appeared to be the landing area for the helicopters, although he wasn't sure how the tanks and cannons got there. He concluded with the observation, secured at Severus' suggestion, that there appeared to be no harm actually being done to the castle itself.
Stark looked thoughtful. "We have been getting updates from the muggle government on a daily basis as they've been tracking the anti-wizard movement." With a nod at Severus, he added "We've identified about half a dozen wizards among the leaders of the movement, although of course we've said nothing about that to the muggles. Fudge is definitely back, closely aligned with the muggle leaders for reasons we can't fathom. And there are at least five confirmed wizards identified by Professor Snape as Death Eaters. Nothing suggests that Fudge and the Death Eaters know the others' true identity."
Turning his attention to Harry, Stark added "You are quite sure, Mr. Potter, that this did not seem to involve the muggle military itself?"
Harry shook his head. "I'm hardly an expert, but the men were not wearing soldier's uniforms – no insignia, things like that. I don't think the tanks had insignia either, but I'm not sure if they normally would. When I saw the vision of the actual muggle military attack, there were lots and lots of soldiers involved, and this vision involved way fewer men. I don't think it's the same group."
Stark took a moment to consider what he'd been told. Shaking his head, he said "Today's information from the muggle Prime Minister, confirmed by the Auror on his staff, confirms no muggle military activity. The muggle government is still watching the anti-wizard group closely, of course. They did mention that a very wealthy industrialist has gotten involved over the last week or two, which worried them. I gather he's a bit of a renegade, short temper or some such. I'm not sure if what you've seen today, Mr. Potter, is connected in any way to him, or to that group. I'll ask the Minister to inquire if there have been any signs of unauthorized military activity, or possibly private military activity, detected. Maybe suggest that we have reason to believe that an attack is being planned. I don't know how much she'd be willing to disclose about why we think this, but she can plant the seed and get them to look for signs."
As Kingsley escorted Auror Stark down to the Ministry Annex, Albus asked Harry and Severus to stay back for a moment.
"You said the castle is unharmed by this attack, Harry?" he asked, as soon at the others were gone.
"Yes, sir. Severus asked me to check that while the vision was going on, and I looked specifically. The wards kept the muggles at a distance themselves, and their tanks and cannon couldn't get close, either. There was a racket, as they were shooting all sorts of stuff our way," a comment that earned him a raised eyebrow from his bondmate. Severus never liked words like "stuff."
Harry continued, "Whatever the muggles were firing at us, guns, cannon, whatever, it was not getting through, either. The castle walls were untouched. Even the grounds in front of the castle were fine. Hagrid's hut, and his garden, fine, too."
The Headmaster seemed to relax at that.
"The wards of Hogwarts are ancient and powerful, and I do have every confidence in their protection, but I'm not familiar with muggle technology and am always fearful that they will come up with something that finds a way through. It's a relief that our protections continue to serve us well."
Over the last month or so, all tents on the front lawn of the castle had been moved to more sheltered areas. This had more to do with the increasingly chilly winds that blew in over the lake, especially at night, rather than with security concerns. "Ought we be more concerned now with the tents, Albus," Severus asked. "Are any still outside the castle walls?"
Albus beamed at Severus, pleased that he expressed this concern on behalf of the families who were using the tents. "There are a few tents close the walls, but outside, sheltered from the wind. They are within the wards. The protection comes from the wards, not the stones of the walls, so I think it remains prudent to allow our guests the comfort of the extra space in those sheltered areas. If conditions deteriorate, or we have any reason to fear the wards might be breached, we'll insist they all come within the walls and will let the castle deal with the space concerns. For now, let people be."
Harry was still thinking about the anti-wizard groups. "How good do you think the muggles are at watching what the anti-wizard groups are doing," he asked.
Severus looked at Albus, as he shrugged his shoulders. "I've no idea. I assume they know their own kind."
"Ought we offer to use magic to see if we can help them out? Or, if the Ministry doesn't want to insert itself like that," he continued, suspecting that there probably was a good reason to keep magic out of muggle affairs, "can the Order do something?"
Albus nodded thoughtfully at the idea. "If we were sure there were no wizards in the mix, it would be simple enough to use a listening charm, I suppose, although there is a wizarding law prohibiting the Ministry from that level of involvement in muggle activity."
Harry blushed, and wondered if Professor Binns had ever said anything about that. Severus smiled, suspecting that Harry's thoughts had turned to his oft-ignored History professor.
"With wizards involved, that's very risky, though, Harry," Albus continued. "They might detect our efforts, and that could be a big problem. Many wizards, even weaker and less accomplished wizards, can feel spells or magic. Often, they are sensitive to just one kind of magic, but if you trigger their awareness, we lose an advantage. It's probably best to leave the muggles to figure out what their kind are doing, with some suggestions from us if we have reason to have certain suspicions."
As Albus stood to head back to his own office, he said "Thank you, my boys, for letting us know about this vision. If we expect the Ministry to be forthcoming with news they get from the muggles, we need to show that we are being the same. I think the meeting today will serve us very well, indeed, in the weeks and months to come."
X X X X X X X X X X
The Prime Minister found that he was not upset at all when the annoying little man in the portrait announced the imminent arrival of the Minister of Magic. This new woman, Minister Bones, was nothing like that gasbag, Fudge. Her demeanor was always controlled and professional, not given over to histrionics as Fudge often was. She felt more like an ally, almost a friend.
He stood as soon as the green flames appeared in his grate, and greeted her as soon as she stepped through.
"Good evening, Madam Minister," he offered as he showed her to a seat, and took one opposite a small table. "May I offer you tea? A brandy?"
"No, thank you, Mr. Prime Minister," she replied, trying to be cordial but needing to get down to business quickly. "We have reason to believe that a military operation, not likely involving your actual military forces, is being planned. The attack being planned seemed similar to the one Mr. Fudge had tried to incite, but it's not the same force. We are wondering if the anti-magic factions have succeeded in spawning plans for an actual attack. Might your surveillance of them have yielded anything that suggest what is going on here?"
The Prime Minister felt a bit uneasy with her "reason to believe." What did they know, and maybe more to the point, how did they come to know it? He was still a bit nervous with this magic thing.
"Reason to believe . . . Have your people seen something?" he asked.
Amelia knew this would be an issue, and one she really did not want to have to address in detail. "Not with our eyes, exactly, but our suspicions here are a very sure indication that something is afoot, being planned at least. I do ask that you trust me on this, Mr. Prime Minister."
He faltered, somewhat reluctant to willingly act in the face of such vague "reasons."
Amelia sensed his reluctance, and continued. "We do have seers and others with the gift of second sight in our world. I stepped through to introduce myself to you when we became aware of your plans, at Fudge's urging, to attack Hogwarts, and we've now become aware, in the same way, of another group planning an attack."
Her reference to his own planned attack brought him up short. He had been planning an attack, and she did intervene before it could become reality.
"I will ask the teams watching the anti-magic groups to be particularly sensitive to anything that might suggest military action. We told you of the recent involvement of a Sir Harold Beckwith in the groups?" He waited for a second, to see if she reacted to Sir Harold's name. He was known to just about everyone in Britain for his vast fortune, nearly rivaling the Queen's, his great business successes, and his eccentric personality. She clearly knew nothing of the man.
"Essentially, Madam Minister, until that Charles Frost arrived, the groups were really just noisy mobs. We feel Frost was the one who gave them a vision and mission, but even then, they were grassroots agitators with little chance of accomplishing much. Sir Harold brought the means to do something. He's likely the wealthiest man in England, almost as rich as the Queen. The golden touch in business affairs. And a bit idiosyncratic, if I may say so. Rather paranoid. Always fearing that he's going to be attacked, physically. One of those people with elaborate security details and reportedly very fascinated with weapons."
While the Minister was thinking what on earth was a "security detail," she got the picture. Money, paranoia and a fascination with weapons said it all.
"He sounds like someone to be watched, Mr. Prime Minister."
"And, we are, Madam Minister. We have him under surveillance at all times. He's up in his estate in Scotland, as we speak. Went up a few days ago."
If that was supposed to make Amelia feel better, it didn't. That just put Sir Harold in closer proximity to Hogwarts, if he was indeed the man behind the little muggle army forming up. Suddenly the transport of those various vehicles her Aurors had described to her seemed to be much less of a challenge than they'd thought.
"As you recall, Mr. Prime Minister, Hogwarts Castle is in Scotland, and that remains the most likely target of any action. Please keep a close eye on him, and keep my people informed. Mr. Entwhistle can get to me whenever you need me. Should he not be around," she went on, extracting something from the pocket of her robe, and extending her hand to give it to him, "you can use this."
It was a funny bottlecap like the one that transported him back from his visit to Hogwarts not that long ago. He held it like it might try to bite him at any moment.
"If you have news about this, please hold this cap in your hand as you say "Ministry of Magic." It will alert me that we need to speak, and I will appear before you in a matter of minutes. So use it in private, in a place where my sudden appearance will not create distress."
Looking distressed himself, he nodded as he slipped the odd bit of metal into a pocket of his vest.
After his guest had disappeared into the fireplace, the Prime Minister summoned Mr. Entwhistle into his office.
"Entwhistle, on a very Top Secret basis, we need to alert the team following activities at the estate in Scotland that we suspect something might be up there. To be very alert to anything that looks like preparation for some sort of military operation. And for them to report to me immediately if they uncover anything at all that might be of interest."
Auror Entwhistle was aware that his real boss had just met with his assigned boss, and understood the urgency and importance of this surveillance. He wished the wizards could do something to make the muggle surveillance more effective; while muggle technology was quite amazing, it had very serious limits. He knew the law and was going to uphold it, but if ever a time called for a good listening charm, this was it.
