The eight Gryffindors stared, not quite sure what to say, and Moody seemed content to stare back at them. The room was damp, James noticed. It smelled like a storage cupboard.

"You lot don't seem very impressed," said Caradoc from behind them.

"We just saw an army of Death Eaters," Marlene said slowly. "An army, sir."

"Please, call me Caradoc."

"An army."

"Yes, I think I've got it."

"You're forgetting, Marlene" said Professor Windstrum, "that we have an army of our own. What we've got here, all the talented people we've gathered, this very headquarters, it's all just as impressive as an army." A stray rat was nibbling on the side of his shoe, but he ignored it.

"Headquarters," Lily repeated. "Professor, where are we? The town we just came from, you said it was in the Czech Republic? Are we still in the Czech Republic?"

Windstrum inclined his head. "Yes. There is a lot going on here that the eight of you are not yet privy to, a lot to catch you all up on." He nodded to Moody. "Alastor will explain it."

Moody growled and stood, moving his desk an inch forward as he did so. "Like hell I will. You're their teacher, aren't you? Teach. I want lunch." He left the room, clapping the young teacher's back on his way out. Windstrum sighed and took Moody's seat, folding his arms on the desk as he grimaced at his students.

"I should go, too," Caradoc tried.

"You're staying."

"But I don't even know these kids."

Windstrum fixed him with a look. "You've met Frank and Remus. I dare say you can recognize a Potter and a Black from miles away. This is Marlene McKinnon."

"Your mum's sister-in-law's husband is my mum's brother," said Marlene, smiling at Caradoc. "We've met."

"We have?"

"It was brief."

Caradoc shook his head in wonder. "Purebloods."

Marlene snorted lightly and rolled her eyes in agreement. "Purebloods."

"Next," said Windstrum, "we have Alice Prewett, the blonde haired girl standing next to Marlene."

Caradoc nodded and smiled at Alice. "All the Prewetts I've met have been delightful people. It's a pleasure."

She smiled back. "Likewise."

"Moving along," said Windstrum, sounding impatient, "there's Peter Pettigrew, hiding behind Mr Black."

"Hi," said Peter, leaning out awkwardly.

"How are you, Peter?"

"Good."

Windstrum waited a moment to see if the conversation would go any further, then shook his head and continued. "And finally, Lily Evans. Brightest witch in her year."

"In the school," James corrected. Lily smiled at him, a genuine, pleased smile that she'd been sending him a lot more of recently. It lit him up inside and he felt a rush, felt his own grin balloon uncontrollably.

"Lily," said Caradoc. "Dumbledore speaks of you most highly."

Lily opened her mouth and Windstrum cut in. "Yes, yes, they're all great. Now, to business. The Death Eaters have gathered in a town called Prázdný."

"Called what?" asked Sirius.

"Prázdný." Windstrum looked at Caradoc. "Prázdný?"

"Don't look at me, I don't know."

"We've yet to hear someone say it properly," Windstrum admitted. "So bear with us."

"Praz-de-nee," Remus offered.

"Maybe. It doesn't matter. We just know it was a Muggle town. Quiet. Peaceful." Windstrum ran a hand through his hair. "The Death Eaters arrived last night and slaughtered every last Muggle in the town. Men, women, children. It took them ten minutes."

James stiffened. Alice clapped a hand over her mouth. The others muttered to themselves darkly. "Why?" asked Frank, his voice stiff.

Windstrum took out a rolled up piece of paper and unfurled it on the desk. The teens crowded in to look. It was a map. He pointed to a corner at the top of the Czech Republic. "This area is near the border to both Germany and Poland. Voldemort has been unable to claim significant territory anywhere yet, not in England, Ireland, not even in Scotland."

"What's wrong with Scotland?" Lily whispered.

"Clearly," Windstrum continued, "Voldemort's decided the best place to start is here."

"Won't the Czech Ministry do anything?" Alice asked.

"The Czech Republic doesn't have a Ministry," Caradoc pointed out, scratching his head as he joined the conversation. "It doesn't have a magical community. Not even a magical street. It's as good a place for Voldemort to start as any. And if it gives him a foothold near Germany of all places, that's all the better for him."

"Now, Prázdný is one of five towns in the area," said Windstrum. There were five circles drawn on the map, between the small bit of Czech area that bordered both Germany and Poland. Four of the circles formed a square, or close to. The fifth was in the middle. "Prázdný is here," he said, tapping the circle at the bottom of the square. "But what they really want is here." He tapped the middle circle. "Síla. If you control Síla, you control the other four, and therefore the whole area. We believe Síla is their next target."

James folded his arms. "How do you guys know all this?"

"It's sort of my job," said Caradoc. "I'm a spy for Dumbledore. I spend a lot of time with the Death Eaters."

"Fun."

"So much fun," Caradoc agreed.

"So what's the plan, then?" asked Frank. "Their target is Síla. So we defend it, right?"

Windstrum wrinkled his nose. "It's not that simple."

"They're Muggles," said Caradoc. "The whole town. We can't just turn it into a battlefield."

"So we raid Prázdný and arrest all the Death Eaters before they can even approach Síla," said James. "Right?"

"No," said Windstrum. "We want to avoid a full fledged battle if we can."

"Why?"

"If it comes to a battle, they use killing curses. We don't. Strategically, that very much puts us on the backfoot. Now, you haven't gotten a good look at all of us yet, but there are only perhaps twenty people here. You have no idea how difficult it is to find twenty trustworthy, capable people willing to work outside the Ministry."

"We're not being paid for this," Caradoc pointed out. Windstrum looked at him and Caradoc stared at a spot on the ceiling.

"Indeed," said Windstrum, looking back at the teens. "If we can avoid losing good people, we'd certainly like to."

"Then… what's the plan?" asked Lily.

Windstrum smiled. "We lay a trap."

"Knock knock." They turned to the door. A man with short blond hair and a neatly trimmed beard stood there. He had an exquisitely embroidered cloak, and carried that shoulders back, chin up air of authority. He smiled. "Hello, all."

"Ah, Sawyer," said Windstrum, brightening. "My dear students, meet Sawyer Hughes, Minister of Magic!"

"I am not the Minister of Magic."

"As good as."

"No."

Windstrum turned to the teens. "The voting process is ongoing, but he's pretty much won already."

"Pretty much winning is a far cry from actually winning, Anton. The vote could go on for months on end - in fact it probably will, at this rate."

"Sawyer is the Head of Magical Law Enforcement," Caradoc told the teens, stepping forward to shake the man's hand roughly and grinning. "As far as we're concerned, here at the unofficial Ministry of Magic-

"That name is not final," said Sawyer.

"-he's the closest to a Minister we have. This is our leader."

"Not Dumbledore?" asked Lily.

Caradoc hesitated. "This is our leader after Dumbledore."

"Where is Dumbledore, anyway?" Alice piped up. "Will he be helping us?"

Sawyer grimaced and rubbed his chin. "It's complicated. Like you just demonstrated, regardless of who the Minister is, Dumbledore will always be seen as the one in charge. That is dangerous. It could put the ministerial power structure in an imbalance, taking authority away from the Minister, whoever it is, while essentially turning the school Headmaster into a dictator. Not to mention this whole election process nonsense - I need as many votes as I can get, while making sure not to feed any dissenters. We're trying to broadcast to everyone that Bulstrode and Fawley are the bad guys, while we're good. Dumbledore and I agreed that he should sit this one out."

The young Gryffindors weren't sure what to make of this. "You don't think we'll need him?" asked Sirius.

"I do not," said Sawyer. "The plan is good."

"Yes, the plan," said Windstrum, remembering their conversation before Sawyer had arrived. "We've laid a trap for the Death Eaters. That brings me to where exactly this house lies, actually. Let's step outside, shall we?"

They followed him from the room, out into the hallway, and walked round corners and bends until they reached the front door. Windstrum held it open for them, and the group filtered out of the house. The fading sunlight of the evening was having its last hurrah in the sky, and the darkness waited patiently behind it, still tapping it on the shoulder to ask for a turn. It was chilly out. The ground was covered in snow, much like it had been in London, but the snow here was white. Pure white, devoid of the stomping of work boots and coating of grime, the muck and the filth that mankind brought with it to all places, like an uninvited houseguest. The snow was too white.

James walked further from the house and looked around. None of the snow on the ground was touched, white as could be, spreading out along the ground from house to house, street to street, all over this town that James found himself in. The houses were almost identical to the one he'd just stepped out of, the streets devoid of any other signs of life. He frowned. "Professor, what's going on here?"

Caradoc answered instead, beaming. "Isn't it great? This town you see in front of you? Just ten hours ago, it didn't even exist. It was all just snow here."

"We built it," said Sawyer, his hands in his pockets. "It all came from magic, every bit of it. None of us are very gifted in architecture, mind, so it's mostly crude and repetitive. But it will do the job."

Frank frowned. "The job?"

"The trap," said Windstrum. "This is it. We built this halfway between Prázdný and Síla. When the Death Eaters start their march on Síla, they'll walk right into the trap, where we'll be waiting."

"I'll be marching with them," said Caradoc. "I told Lestrange that I want to be more involved with these sorts of things. That's the only reason we even know about all this happening. I'll lead the Death Eaters right into the trap, and we'll capture the whole lot of them."

"The rest of us will act like Muggles," Sawyer told them. "The Death Eaters will come in expecting no resistance from twenty odd harmless Muggles, and we'll turn right around and engage them in battle. Only, we'll have won before they even get the chance to fight back. The element of surprise will end the fight before it starts."

"What about us?" asked Remus. "Most of us are under-age. Will we get done in for under-age magic?"

Sawyer snorted. "Remus, mate, I'm the Head of Magical Law Enforcement. You have my permission to do whatever the hell you want."

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Caradoc's job had sounded easy. Lead the Death Eaters into the trap. Simple, uncomplicated, not asking a lot from him.

Wrong.

Firstly, he couldn't just lead the Death Eaters anywhere. He wasn't their leader. He wasn't even very important to them. They didn't invite him to any of the special meetings. He always felt mightily out of place among them, like a child on their first day at a new school. Granted, that could likely be attributed to Caradoc not sharing their murderous tendencies, but still. Everyone wants to feel like they belong.

So Caradoc walked near the front of the pack, marching alongside all the big names. Rodolphus Lestrange, Lucious Malfoy, Walden Macnair, Crabbe, Karkaroff, Wilkes, Selwyn, it was enough to make the Auror in Caradoc want to scream.

Most of those names walked in front of him, which led to Caradoc's second problem. How could he lead them if he wasn't even at the front? The trap was placed right between Prázdný and Síla, true, so it would be hard for them to miss it, but there was more to it than that. If they approached the make-believe town from any angle other than head on, it wouldn't look like a town full of people at all. It would look instead like a mostly empty town, except for the entrance, where an assortment of 'Muggles' congregated suspiciously in what was most definitely a trap. So every now and then, Caradoc would have to nudge those around him a certain way, maybe point, use his body language, to keep those in front on track as subtly as possible. It was night by then, and dark. They all lit the way by wandlight. Caradoc wondered if they looked like a church choir from a distance, marching with their candles and little song books.

Caradoc sighed and gently nudged a few people to the right. Even considering that it was dark, it turned out that Rodolphus Lestrange was remarkably bad at walking in a straight line.

All of it, however, paled in comparison to his biggest problem. Marching beside him, silent, deadly, was a man Caradoc had seen a handful of times now. His skin was dark, his expression always neutral, his eyes covered by aviator sunglasses. The man wore a yellow and white pinstriped suit this time, tailored to perfection, and marched with such a swagger that Caradoc felt uncoordinated just from watching him.

Taureau Barkley, the man's name was. Caradoc had learned this shortly after he'd apparated from the make-believe trap-town back to Prázdný, his heart stopping when he'd seen the man. This man was responsible for the death of Eugenia Jenkins. He was involved somehow with Emmett Fawley, Minister candidate and Head of the Auror Department. Bringing Taureau Barkley in would lead to proving Fawley to be the Ministry spy known as Blithe, allowing them to finally expose Blithe, a task which had been the only thing on Caradoc's mind for months on end. And the key to it all was walking next to him. With a swagger.

"We've met," said the man, noticing Caradoc's stare. His voice was deep and smooth. "I remember you."

Caradoc nodded. "We fought. On the night you killed Cassus Lucio."

"If you would call that a fight."

"Yes, well, I was undercover. I wasn't trying to win."

"Yet I recall you getting back up each time I knocked you down."

"I had to sell it, didn't I?"

"Did you?"

"Yes," said Caradoc tightly. They were quiet for a few strides, before he couldn't resist adding, "And you caught me by surprise with that first shot."

The man made a noise but didn't respond. Caradoc let the silence sit for a while. The fake Síla town was visible in the distance, but only barely, only as a silhouette in the wandlight. Still, it meant they were on track. Caradoc looked at the man again. "You accepted quite quickly that I'm a spy on Dumbledore and his lot, you know. I was half expecting you to attack me, when I apparated back into town earlier." Taureau Barkley said nothing, so Caradoc pressed on. "I'm an Auror. That's why Rodolphus brought me on board. I can leak information straight from the department to keep us two steps ahead of that lot. Have to do it without alerting Emmett Fawley, though." Caradoc had to stop himself from crossing his fingers, begging the quiet man to say something incriminating of Fawley. Caradoc was a Death Eater as far as the man knew, after all. Why wouldn't he let him in on the secret?

An emotion flickered across the man's face before it was snatched away. "That must be so hard for you," he said eventually.

Caradoc cursed inwardly, but didn't show his frustration. "It is." They were quiet once more, and again Caradoc felt compelled to break the silence. He couldn't let this opportunity pass, not while the elusive man walked right next to him. "I've never seen you around at meetings or anything, you know. What exactly do you do, if you don't mind me asking?"

The look the man gave him told Caradoc that he did indeed mind him asking. "You wouldn't see me at your meetings, Death Eater. I am not one of you."

"Then what are you?"

"The kind of person who does not trumpet his own information to anyone who asks."

Caradoc smirked. "I'm sorry, am I annoying you, Taureau?"

"You may not call me that."

"Mr Barkley, then?"

"No."

"What would you have me call you, my good man?"

The man's jaw was clenching ever so slightly. "You need not call me anything."

"But I want to, still."

"You know," said the man suddenly, stopping and facing him suddenly, "you talk like one of them. One of Dumbledore's. Not like a Death Eater."

Caradoc stopped too. Some Death Eaters grumbled and passed around them. "I wouldn't be much of a spy if I did now, would I?"

"Perhaps not." The man seemed to be surveying him behind his aviator sunglasses. "But joviality is not something easily afforded to a Death Eater. A person whose job, whose very nature, incites murder and torture and hate."

"You're a murderer, too," Caradoc reminded him.

"And do I strike you as the joking type?" The man raised an eyebrow over his sunglasses, then started walking again. Caradoc joined him. "I am merely impressed. It is not easy to kill, even harder to do so in high spirits. I look forward to seeing how you accomplish that today."

Caradoc's throat dried, and he looked ahead. Suddenly, he wasn't too eager to keep the conversation going. He had gotten this far, lasted this long as a spy, without ever having to prove himself to these people. That might change today. His head clouded. While maintaining this act as a Death Eater, how long more could Caradoc expect to be a good person? After taking a life, perhaps, or even assisting in taking that life, what would really be separating Caradoc from the Death Eaters? Sure, he would likely have no choice in the matter. But would that be a good enough excuse for him, when the time came?

He shook his head and marched on. The fake town was much closer now. Close enough for Caradoc to see the figures walking about, as though it were just another normal night in Síla. Close enough, even, for Caradoc to make out the faces of Aurors like Harold Minchum and Alastor Moody, and the mostly concealed features of Alice Prewett and Anton Windstrum. Any moment now…

At the front of the procession, Rodolphus had stopped walking. He was swaying, as though unsteady on his feet. Immediately, Caradoc slipped on his Death Eater mask, charmed specially by Sawyer to protect him. Around him, the other Death Eaters slowed, their eyelids drooping and their heads bobbing. It was the work of Rainbow Dust, a compound the Irish Ministry had developed during the war with Grindelwald. Spread around the perimeter of Síla, the scentless gas dulled the senses, disorienting and slowing the mind. The Irish hadn't given it the name Rainbow Dust. That was a result of the rest of the world associating the country only with gold, rainbows, and green little leprechauns. And four-leaf clovers.

Caradoc watched as the entirety of the procession was slowly taken in by the compound, growing dazed and uneasy as they drew nearer to the town's edge. After only a few more seconds, the marching stopped entirely. Caradoc frowned suddenly, glanced around.

Taureau Barkley was nowhere to be seen.

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The trap was sprung, and Lily and the others threw off their disguises and charged from the feeble excuse of a town, straight towards the wobbling mass of Death Eaters. The twenty odd band of pretend Muggles drew their wands and got straight to business, stunning and restraining the small army without wasting any time - they couldn't be sure how much of it they had.

An unpleasant looking man with unfocused eyes was Lily's first target. She bound him with ropes simply and moved on to the next one. Beside her, Peter was doing a fine job of stunning a Death Eater, and then hesitantly bashing him in the face after his stunning spell didn't prove strong enough. Lily moved on to the next one, and the next one, cutting down the black robed figures left and right. The adults were going at an even quicker pace. Some of the Aurors worked so efficiently at incapacitating their foes that Lily almost wondered if she was even doing it right. She punched every odd one in the face, just to remind herself that she was.

"Nice technique, Evans!" James appeared by her side, grinning his stupid grin. "Maybe put more hips into the next one. Like this!" He swung his fist into the face of a Death Eater on his right, and a tooth went flying.

"Potter," she reprimanded, imitating his punch at a wide-mouthed Death Eater by his side and knocking her target to the ground, "violence is never the answer!"

"It is sometimes." With a flick of his wand James hoisted a Death Eater into the air and dropped him down on his head. "Remember when Joe Shingle asked you out in Fourth Year? And I decked him in the face?"

"Yes," she snapped, stunning a looming Death Eater before her. "That was an entirely unnecessary and inappropriate reaction, Potter. I didn't think it was funny then, and I don't now."

"He called you a bitch," James said matter-of-factly, flinging a Death Eater back with a flourish of his wand. "He was talking about you to his friends after you rejected him. I heard it, tapped him on the shoulder, and gave him what for."

She paused briefly, reassuring herself that James couldn't possibly know how much her heart was swelling, and smiled lightly at him before throwing a body-bind curse on a dumb looking man with bad teeth. "Well then. I suppose sometimes, violence might be the answer."

He grinned. "A girl after my own heart."

She smiled to herself. He didn't even know the half of it.

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It was past the fake town, far along the path to the real Síla, that Caradoc caught up to him. Taureau Barkley turned on the narrow path and watched Caradoc approach. Six Death Eaters flanked the man. None of them were significant or memorable.

"It was a trap," said the man.

"Yeah." Caradoc pulled his mask off and stopped before them. "I noticed in time."

"We were at the front of the party." The man turned, started walking again. Caradoc and the others followed behind as he continued. "We were the most exposed to whatever it was that was in the air. I myself have been made immune to most toxins." Of course, Caradoc thought to himself sourly. "These six were near the back of our congregation, the least exposed to the poisoned air. I wonder, though, how you managed to avoid the trap, ah…"

"Caradoc."

"Caradoc. How did you do it?"

"I held my breath."

"Before you even knew there was a trap?"

"Yep." The man looked back at him, but Caradoc couldn't make much out what with the darkness and those damned aviator sunglasses, but he recognized doubt in the air. "It was Rainbow Dust," Caradoc said eventually. "I recognized the scent, pieced together what was going on."

"You are familiar with the scent of Rainbow dust? As far as I am aware, it is very rare."

Caradoc shrugged. "My line of work takes me many places."

The other Death Eaters said nothing in all this, and Caradoc had to wonder what they made of the exchange between the two. Who did they trust more? Who did they believe?

"What's the plan, then?" Caradoc asked once the silence pressed down too hard. "Eight of us left. What do you propose we do?"

"We do our job." The man glanced again at Caradoc. "We came here to take Síla. I'm sure eight trained killers are more than enough to take out a town of Muggles in the middle of the night. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Yep," said Caradoc uneasily. "I sure am glad you're such a quick thinker."

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The Death Eaters near the back were the ones to recover first, and suddenly the fight became much more two sided. Remus found himself on the backfoot quite quickly. Green jets of light started shooting through the air as more and more Death Eaters joined the fight, and soon it was almost an even match between the two sides. Almost. As great as the Death Eaters' numbers were, they didn't have an Alastor Moody. The man truly was a warrior, diving into the throng of robed figures with a snarl and felling any that dared to stand in his line of sight.

"I broke up with Amelia," said Frank.

Remus turned to tell him he didn't care, but saw that the Head Boy was talking to Alice.

"I heard," she said, ducking under a flying spell. "It was weeks ago."

"Still," said Frank. "I haven't gotten a chance to talk to you about it yet."

"What's there to say? I know you've liked me for a long time, Frank. And now, I reckon I like you too. Like like."

"But it's more complicated than that," Frank insisted. "You're my best friend, Alice. I don't want to lose-"

Remus shoved him out of the path of a green jet of light and fixed them both with a look. "Is now really the best time?"

Frank looked awkward, but Alice was unabashed. Merlin, what had James done to that girl?

"We taking a break?" called Sirius, as he joined them with Marlene a step behind him. Both were flushed and grinning happily. Were it not the middle of a battlefield, Remus would have assumed they'd been getting up to some 'mischief', as Sirius would call it, with their tousled hair and heaving chests. The evidence to the contrary was a sheen of sweat on their foreheads, their wands at the ready.

"No," Remus asserted. "We were just about to get back into it."

Windstrum came rushing by, looking at the teens incredulously. "What do you think this is, the Common Room? We're at war! Quite standing around!"

With a sigh, Remus turned away from the others and sent a jelly-legs curse at a running Death Eater, who tripped and fell on his face. Why did he have to be the only one of his friends with his head screwed on right?

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Síla was a quiet, still town in the dead of night. The Death Eaters stood in the main street and looked around, seeming to be making their minds up on where to start killing. Taureau Barkley lifted a finger and pointed at a barn sitting at the end of the street, near the edge of town. "There. We'll start there."

The barn was dark. Caradoc watched him rummage around by the wall, and a gas lamp lit up, illuminating the place. There were piles of hay but no animals. It smelled like the tranquility of farm life.

"Go fetch us our generous hosts," the man instructed the Death Eaters, pointing to a wooden door by the far wall that no doubt led to the house adjoining the cozy little barn. When just the two of them were left, he looked at Caradoc. "Excited?"

Caradoc smiled, trying to make sure it reached his eyes. "Of course. I've been itching for some fun all day."

"Good. You'll have plenty quite shortly."

"Why are you doing this?" Caradoc asked before he could stop himself. "You say you aren't a Death Eater. Why go out of your way to kill Muggles with the rest of us?"

Whenever the man looked at him, Caradoc felt like he was being evaluated. He met the gaze of those dark glasses unflinchingly. "I have my orders," the man said, "the same as you Death Eaters have yours."

"And who gives you those orders, I wonder?"

The man didn't move, not even a muscle, but somehow he was looking a little more looming, threatening. Caradoc wondered what the man would do if he reached for his wand.

He was saved from finding out by the Death Eaters returning to the barn, prodding along three Muggles before them. The Muggles were in their pyjamas, looking terrified. Two women, and an elderly man. They stumbled and shuffled ahead of the Death Eaters, hands shaking slightly, and with a flick of one of the Death Eaters' wands they all dropped down and rested against a small bundle of hay.

"Are these the folks who we have so rudely intruded upon?" Taureau Barkley asked.

The Death Eater pointing his wand at the Muggles responded. "Yeah. They were sleeping, but they got up all in a hurry to welcome us." The others sniggered behind him.

"Anyone else in the house?"

"Well, they had a dog, too. A big one, but don't worry. I killed the brute."

The man regarded the Death Eater, ignoring the Muggles' soft crying. His voice dripped with disdain. "Why?"

The Death Eater shrugged. "Just to warm up a bit, you know?"

After a few seconds, the man turned, acting like the Death Eater wasn't there anymore, and looked at the Muggles. He pulled out his wand. "We're going to kill you," he said softly. Their crying grew louder. The elderly man made a feeble attempt to put his arm in front of the two women, pushing himself before them. "That will not save anyone, I'm afraid," said the man. "I'm going to let you in on a huge secret. We're wizards. We have magic."

As if to demonstrate, a Death Eater behind him levitated a bundle of hay, leering stupidly in a clumsy show of power. To the Muggles, it was terrifying. Caradoc saw their eyes follow the bundle of hay, widening, filling with fear, then tracing back to the Death Eater's raised wand, and staying there.

"Do not consider yourselves unfortunate," the dark skinned man said. "We are going to kill everyone in town, after all. Not just you three." This didn't seem to make them feel better, but the man didn't seem to care all that much. "Before that, though, I want to see something. Caradoc?"

"Yes?" Caradoc's voice cracked slightly, but the man didn't acknowledge it.

"Come over here, if you please. I think we'll let you do the honors." Caradoc walked slowly to stand before the Muggles, and stopped, starting to freeze up. "Go on, start us off. The old-timer seems a bit keen, don't you think? Kill him first."

A Death Eater protested. "How come he gets to-"

Caradoc didn't turn to see, but he assumed Taureau Barkley silenced the Death Eater with a look.

There was a reasonable, smart voice in Caradoc's head telling him that he didn't have a choice. No one would be able to blame him. The two women were quivering, their cheeks wet with tears. The elderly man had stopped crying and was still. He stared into Caradoc's eyes, and on those lined features he saw resignation. What more could there be, faced with magic and wizards and imminent death?

Caradoc looked hard into those eyes. It wasn't, however, because he was looking for something profound in them. He wasn't going to kill the man. He never was. Instead, staring into the old man's eyes, he found the reflections of the seven enemies standing behind him. No wands drawn. Faces relaxed. Caradoc slowly lifted his wand, pointed it at the Muggles, his hand deadly still. Fear found only at wand-point joined the resignation in the elderly man's eyes, and the voice in Caradoc's head told him his plan was stupid, and reckless, and not to do it. That's what it all came down to, Caradoc reckoned, as he tuned out the voice and focussed his mind. Simply tuning the voice out that tried to claim there was no choice, that urged him to take the easier path, that's where the line could be drawn between a Death Eater and himself. Good and evil, as it were. As far as Caradoc was concerned, there was always a choice.

He whirled around and stunned the first Death Eater. The rest jerked and reached for their wands and he heard Taureau Barkley laugh but didn't pay attention. He whirled, flicking his wand to bind the second Death Eater in thick ropes, and when the third reared up beside him Caradoc crunched a fist into his nose and he dropped. Jets of light shot at him now and he dove towards the fourth Death Eater, rolled, and when he sprung up he grabbed the Death Eater's wand arm, pushed it away, and turned him round. With this struggling new shield in front of him, he looked at his three remaining enemies.

A blue jet of lit left Taureau Barkley's wand and hit the Death Eater, whose head lolled back. The body went limp, but Caradoc held him up by the scruff of his neck and charged. He threw the unconscious man at the feet of the next Death Eater and cast a full-body-bind curse, felling his foe. The last Death Eater ran at Caradoc, and a simple stunning spell flung the robed figure back against the wall. He hit the ground and was still.

The last two standing, Taureau Barkley squared his shoulders and smiled at Caradoc, like he was deeply amused that it was just the two of them now. They started circling.

"What's so funny?" Caradoc asked.

"I am simply remembering the last time we fought. You had two friends, then, and you still could not beat me. What could you possibly hope to do now?"

"Things have changed," Caradoc said quietly, not letting his eyes leave the man's face for even a moment. He couldn't see the eyes, covered as they were by those blasted aviator sunglasses. He wondered if that was why he wore them - to give him an edge in these exact situations.

"What exactly has changed, pray tell?" asked the man.

Caradoc steeled himself. "This time," he said, coming to a stop, "I'm angry." His stunning spell careened towards his foe, and the man raised a shield charm in time.

Caradoc waved his wand, and three bails of hay behind the man crashed into his back. The man stumbled, eyes widening, and Caradoc seized the opportunity.

"Stupefy!"

At the last moment before the jet of light hit him, the man's wand flicked, and it was like a bomb had gone off in the barn. White light filled the air. Caradoc went flying back, hit a wooden wall, fell to the ground. His ears were ringing. His vision blurred. Squinting, blinking quickly, Caradoc saw the man leaning against the opposite wall, dazed. They had both been thrown by the spell.

Painstakingly, Caradoc got to his feet. His wand was still in his hand. Good. He put one foot in front of the other, the commands from his brain barely reaching his limbs in time, and he ambled towards his opponent. The man jerked his arm and blue light streaked past Caradoc's head, but Caradoc ignored it, raised his own wand. "Stupefy!"

The man's wand waved like a cricket bat and the spell went was flung aside somehow, the streak of light rushing harmlessly into one of the wooden walls instead. Caradoc pressed on, throwing a string of hexes at the man who, from the ground, dodged and shielded and redirected each dangerous spell with heavy concentration on his face. When Caradoc unwittingly got close enough, the man sprung forwards and tackled him to the ground. Caradoc's head hit the ground first, rocking his equilibrium. A wand blurred in front of him. Caradoc reached up, grabbed the wand hand and twisted. A short jet of light sizzled into the ground beside Caradoc's head. The man grunted, and with his other hand he punched Caradoc full in the face. There was a crack, Caradoc's head spun, and blood burst up and onto his face. He knew his nose was broken. His eyes filled with tears. Another punch, glancing off Caradoc's cheek. He was going to pass out.

Closing his eyes against the tears, he adjusted his grip on the man's wand hand and twisted more. Caradoc rolled them both on the ground until he was on top of his opponent, and he opened his eyes blearily. The man's wand arm was strong, and they both wrestled for control of the wand. With his other hand, the man wrapped his fingers around Caradoc's throat and squeezed. Caradoc gagged, used his last reserves of strength and his other arm to grab the man's wand hand and push it towards his opponent's snarling face. With a two handed grip, he slowly overpowered that absurdly strong arm. Lights danced in front of Caradoc's eyes. With each moment of grappling, he lost more oxygen, and his limbs grew weaker. He wouldn't last much longer. The wand finally rested against the man's temple. The man's grip of the wand loosened briefly, and in that moment, both hands on the wand, Caradoc cast the last spell nonverbally.

Stupefy.

The man jerked, head banging against the ground. The hand loosened around his throat, and Caradoc gasped for air, rolling to the side and sucking in deep lung fulls. After some moments, he looked at the man, who was groaning on the ground. Caradoc found his wand, lost in the struggle, and touched it to the man's temple. "Obliviate." Taureau Barkley couldn't know that Caradoc had turned on him. He went around to the rest of the Death Eaters and did the same. He heard a whimper suddenly and whirled.

The Muggles, cowering in the corner, were staring at him.

He'd forgotten about them completely. He took a step forward and the three of them flinched. "I'm not going to hurt you," he said quietly. "If you can understand me, the spell I will use will cause no harm. I only want to clear your memories of what has transpired here." The fear in their eyes didn't change, and he sighed. "Whatever. Obliviate." Their faces went slack, their eyes unfocused. "And I'm sorry about your dog."

As he left the barn, with seven Death Eaters and Taureau Barkley bound, gagged, and levitating along behind him, Caradoc glanced around at Síla. An entire town of people saved, and they would never even know it. With a sigh and a wince, Caradoc apparated from the town, taking his captives along with him. Being a spy was hard, Caradoc thought to himself for the upteenth time that day. But he reckoned he did a decent job of it.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

With all said and done, there were about twenty captured Death Eaters that day. The rest had come to their senses and run, with Moody and some others hot on their heels. Síla, the real Síla, had gone untouched. It was the first decisive victory against the Death Eaters, and there had been no casualties. Not one. Sawyer had seemed chuffed about that.

Lily spied James sitting on a wall at the edge of the fake town, gazing out at where they had all been battling mere hours ago. He looked at her as she approached him, his lips curving upward. That always happened when he looked at her. It made Lily happy.

"Alright, Evans?"

"Not bad, Potter." She hopped up on the wall beside him. "Busy night, right?"

He snorted, nodded at the horizon. "Morning."

"Oh! Do you know what that means?"

"We haven't slept?"

"It's Christmas Eve now, Potter. Happy Christmas Eve!"

He squinted at her. "Okay, first of all, it's the morning of what will eventually be Christmas Eve. I'm pretty sure for it to actually be Christmas Eve, it has to be, oh, I don't know, an actual eve? As in the evening?"

"Happy Christmas Eve, Potter."

"And secondly, who celebrates Christmas Eve? Of all days? Who looks forward to Christmas Eve, wakes up in the morning and says to themselves, 'Oh my goodness, it's Christmas Eve, I need to wish everyone'?"

"Me," she said simply.

He shook his head. "You're weird. Your obsession with Christmas is unhealthy, you know. I need you to know that."

"I do."

"But you simply don't care."

"I don't."

He nodded. "As long as you know, then."

James hopped off the wall, started walking into the fake town. Lily felt like sitting, but the urge to turn and call out to him seized her suddenly. "Potter." He looked back, eyebrows raised. His lips curved upwards at her and Lily smiled. "I just thought I'd let you know," she said, "if someone called you a bitch, I'd punch them too."

A million things flashed in his eyes over a split-second, and Lily thought she recognized a glimmer of hesitant hope among them. He tilted his head. Seeming to settle on amused, he grinned at her. "Thanks, Evans."

She nodded, and turned back to watch the sunlight crack the night sky open like an egg, bright yolk bleeding into the darkness.