In The Wind Of Pain

We stay away from the cottage for a couple of days to give Harry, Hermione, Ron, Luna, Dean, Mr Ollivander, and Griphook time to recover. Staying in the flat all the time—for that is the only other option—makes me cabin-feverish and antsy, especially since I end up staring down into the Alley, resenting the Ministry propaganda displayed everywhere and wishing I could go down there and tear it all down. Madam Malkin and Bigby both come over frequently and often end up staying for supper, so with the two of them, me, Viktor and Draco, and the five Haslets, not to mention Budge and Sylvester, it's quite a full flat. We spend the time talking over the problems we still face, even with the progress we've made: we still need a reliable way to communicate with Rachael and all of our allies on the Continent, and once we've done that, we need a way to get them all into England, and from there we need a plan to actually take on the Ministry. Unfortunately Madam Malkin doesn't have a practically ready-made solution to these problems as she did for how to get Rachael across the Channel, and we stew on them for two days before deciding we can return to the cottage to talk it all over with Bill and Fleur and the rest of them.

We Apparate to the beach on the morning of the third day and find Luna and Hermione sitting outside together, apparently just taking in the view. Draco stops short when he sees them, and they look back with identical cool expressions. "Meet you inside?" I say to him, and he nods, swallowing audibly. I hesitate, then reach up and ruffle his hair again. He exclaims in protest, and I laugh, especially when I see Hermione's look of shock and consternation. Then Viktor and I go inside and find most of the others lingering over breakfast.

"Good morning," Fleur says, charming two tea cups to float to us.

"Morning," I reply, nodding around. Dean, Harry, and Ronald nod back, as does Griphook. Mr Ollivander is absent, presumably still laid up in bed. He really had been frail the other day.

"How goes it?" Bill asks, shoving his chair over a bit so we at least have room to stand by the table.

"We really need a way to talk to Rachael properly," I say succinctly. That's the most pressing issue, really. We can't solve the other two without handling this one first.

"Why can't you talk to—Rachael? Who is that?" Dean asks.

I glance at Bill and Fleur with my eyebrows quirked, but they shake their heads. "We deed not tell zem efferysing," Fleur says. "Just 'ow you survived and why you are 'ere."

"Right. Well, Rachael's my friend. She's not in the Order, but she's working to let the rest of the world know what's been happening here. I think she ended up in Germany with Herr Amsel, or further east with the Dandelion's Resistance. And we can't talk to her because of the wards, and the Ministry censoring letters."

"Dobby got through the Malfoy's wards," Ronald says. "And the Charm here. I reckon a house-elf could get through the Ministry's ones."

"Uh…" I say. "I wouldn't know, but even if it's possible, does anyone here know another house-elf we could ask?" I look around at all the blank faces.

"Yes," Harry says suddenly, looking up. He still seems… strange, the same way he did the night he arrived, but there is focus there now too. "Sirius'... that is…" He clears his throat. "Kreacher? Could you come here?"

A pop and a gnarled little figure stands next to Harry's chair. He's wearing a neat pillowcase and a great ugly locket, and the sparse hairs on his head are combed backwards. "Master calls?" he croaks, while Bill frowns at this further demonstration of the Charm's permeability.

"Kreacher, there's something that only a house-elf may be able to do," Harry says. "Can we explain, and if it's possible, can we ask you to do it? It could be… it's probably a bit dangerous."

Kreacher bows. "Master may ask anything."

Harry nods uncomfortably and looks at me, Kreacher following suit. I look down at him uncertainly and decide, on impulse, to crouch so that we're the same height. "My name's Nita," I say, and the house-elf nods acknowledgement. "All around England, there are powerful wards that prevent a witch or wizard from easily leaving or entering the country. And we have a friend in Europe that we need to talk to very badly. If you can get through the wards safely, it would be a great help if you could take letters back and forth between us. Does that sound possible?"

"We elves have sensed these wards ever since they were placed," Kreacher says gravely. "But wizardkind never thinks of us. We are able to pass through them, yes. Where is your friend?"

Relief washes through me. "I'm not certain. But if you go to Charlie Weasley at the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary, he'll have a better idea." Hopefully. "Her name is Rachael Percival. When you find her, if she needs proof that you come from us, tell her… tell her Sylvester bit me yesterday, so things are back to normal." The elf gives me a quizzical look, but nods.

"Is this what Master wishes Kreacher to do?" he asks Harry.

"Yes, please, Kreacher."

With one last nod, Kreacher Disapparates.

"My," says Luna, standing in the doorway. I stand quickly. "Was that another house-elf? I'd have liked to meet him." She has a gentle, sad way of talking. "Harry, Draco Malfoy would like to talk to you and Ron." The two exchange a look, then get up and hurry outside. Pride pokes at my insides again. Draco had better stop taking my advice, or I might start liking him one of these days. Luna looks around at the rest of us. "It's like a Triwizard champions reunion," she points out. "Or it was, before Harry went out. Draco says you helped him quite a lot, you know," she says, suddenly looking right at me. She has the strangest eyes I've ever seen on a person, a shade of grey closer to silver than anything, and I feel as though she's pinned me to the floor with them. "I think that's very good of you," she says.

"Um," I say. "I didn't mean to help him. I mainly told him off."

"Yes, that's what he said," she agrees serenely.

I shift my weight, trying to look away from her. "Erm, well. Good. I guess."

"Is there more toast?" Luna asks, turning her silver gaze towards the table, and I slump with relief.

Now that Kreacher's solved our first main problem, we haven't got much more reason to stay at the cottage, but we do anyway. There are still things I want to know about what the Order has been doing, and while Bill is reluctant, Fleur is not. Resistance against You-Know-Who and the Ministry is scattered and largely ineffectual, due largely to the Ministry's successful attempts to paint the Order as the villains early on, so there is little public trust in anyone who comes out in opposition to anything the Ministry does. And another issue is that the Linese Act, that set of laws they pushed through after my trial, includes harsh punishments for anyone suspected of consorting with Blood Traitors or Mudbloods. They both say that if the Order had taken more decisive action sooner, a lot of this could have been avoided, but that Dumbledore and the others counseled patience, as sooner or later their enemies would slip and show too much of their hand. The sheer optimistic idiocy of this gives me a headache.

I want to bring up the conversation Fleur and I had all that time ago, when she first told me she didn't think the Order was responsible for all the attacks that were going on, and ask why she hadn't told me the truth, and why she hadn't asked me to join even, but in the end I don't. Knowing why won't change it, so the best thing now is to move forward and strive for victory. That thought makes me check outside, where Draco still stands talking to Hermione, who is flanked by Ron and Harry. The three friends all have their arms crossed, and Ron's face is a warm angry red, but at least they're listening instead of just hexing him.

Kreacher returns five hours after he left, with such an enormous sack of letters that at first I can't even see him, just the bag. "Kreacher found Miss Percival," he croaks, releasing his bear hug on the bag, which lets it tip over and spew letters across the floor. I hurry over, thrilled. "She was most pleased to have a way to give these to you, Miss Nita. She says there are more, but they are not written in English and need to be translated."

"Good God…" I murmur. The others have gathered around as well, impressed with the volume of mail.

"This is from her directly." Kreacher pulls one last letter out of his pillowcase and hands it to me.

"Thank you." I can't think what else to say. "Thank you so much. Do you… are you hungry or anything? Do you need to rest?"

He gives me a funny sort of look. "Miss is not accustomed to house-elves, is she?"

I shake my head. "I'm sorry if I said something wrong. Is there a special form of address I should use? Oh! Have you got your own language? Could I be allowed to learn it or is it only for house-elves?"

His face has just gotten more twisted with confusion as I talked. "Miss is even stranger than that one," he mutters, aiming a glance at Hermione, who is hard at work stacking letters on the table with Bill and Dean.

"Er," Harry interjects before I can put my foot further into my mouth, if that's even what's happening. "Why don't you go back to the house, Kreacher, and we'll call you again when we need you, okay?"

The house-elf bows and vanishes with a pop. I turn to Harry, worried. "Did I offend him?"

"I don't think so," he says, eyeing me like he hasn't quite decided what I am. I remember he had a very similar expression after the first Triwizard task, when he'd seen me talk to the dragon. But surely this is less strange than that? At least Kreacher speaks English. "He's just… not used to many people yet."

"Oh." I can relate to that, at any rate.

The next several hours are spent in sorting the letters. Most of them are purely statements of support or outrage on our behalf, and, while nice to have, aren't very useful. The properly useful ones are from the various European governments, and from Viktor's seconds-in-command in the Dandelion's Resistance, and the one from Rachael. Several of the governmental ones declare their intention of convening an emergency meeting if the International Confederation of Wizards to bring charges of 'gross abuse of powers' against the Ministry, which all sounds fine and dandy, but it's unclear whether that will actually get the Ministry or You-Know-Who to stop. Somehow I doubt it.

The ones I find more compelling are from Dandelion's Resistance members and lower level members of governments, as they, by and large, are more in favor of direct action. When we eventually come across Herr Amsel's letter, he is vehemently in support of open rebellion and says he will throw all possible resources behind the cause. That's the sort of thing I'm happy to see.

We craft several different letters for Kreacher to take back. I write one directly to Rachael, one to Herr Amsel asking what sort of help he could give, one to the Dandelion's Resistance thanking them for their help and encouraging them, and a sort of form letter to be sent to the head of each government saying that by all means they should do the International Confederation of Wizards rigmarole, but that political action alone is not going to be enough in this case. Draco and Fleur help me make that one sound fancy and formal, thankfully. Harry summons Kreacher to take the letters to their various destinations, and by then it's late enough that Viktor and Draco and I head back to the flat in the Alley. We explain everything to Mrs Haslet while we help her make dinner. Afterwards, Draco plays Exploding Snap with Joey, Lauren, Darren, and Bonnie, and I enjoy Budge's aggressive nuzzles while Sylvester watches us all balefully from under the radiator. Mrs Haslet also thinks the International Confederation of Wizards thing sounds like a nice gesture rather than an effective one, and asks to be kept in the loop on what Herr Amsel brings to the table.

The days go on and the letters come and go. We talk about methods for taking on the Ministry, and how many people from the Order can participate, and how many people there are in the Dandelion's Resistance now (according to the letters Viktor gets from them, their numbers have swollen five-fold since the Howler jars went out). The next problem is how we can get them all into England. Various Ministries send registers of people who would be willing to participate in a "citizens' governmental requisition", as one letter deftly puts it. But the wards around Britain are powerful, and while small groups might get through safely enough, it looks like there could be hundreds of people to bring across the Channel, and British scrutiny has increased along with foreign interest after we sent out the Howlder jars. The wards block Portkeys and human Apparation, and even though elves can get through, I'm not sure we could recruit enough elves to make that method viable.

And once they're actually in the country, what then? A frontal assault on the Ministry building would be destined for failure, as even besides the new security measures instituted by the Death Eaters in the last year, it has been the seat of the magical government of Britain for centuries and surely has stringent precautions in place to begin with. Harry, Ron, and Hermione all look at each other when I make this observation, but don't disagree.

And as the plans get more serious, even though we still don't have a way to get everyone across the Channel, Bill gets more grave and introspective, until one day when we arrive to the cottage, he's standing outside with none other than the Auror who sent the Patronus to his and Fleur's wedding, and took me to the Malfoys to be blood-bound. Viktor, Draco and I all stop short when we see him, Draco looking uncomfortable and Viktor cautious. "Good morning, all," Bill says. "Nita, you know Kingsley Shackelbolt, right?"

"Not by name. Hello," I say, frowning. I know it wasn't his fault, what Mr Malfoy did to me, and I'm grateful for his help back then, but I'm still not really certain where we stand.

He tips his head to me. "Miss Linese. I'm glad to see you're doing alright." He flicks a glance at Draco. "From what I hear, you've had an interesting time."

"All thanks to the Order," I reply coolly. "Or were you working alone?"

He shakes his head. "Not alone, no. But the group who knew was small. We didn't have long to act. But after what you did, we couldn't allow your execution."

"Did you know what Malfoy was going to do?" I ask. "You said 'better than being Kissed'. But did you know his intentions?"

"I… knew he was to go abroad. I knew he needed a translator. I… supposed he would bind you to service in some way. I did not think he would go so far as he did."

I look at him levelly. "Alright. Now why are you here?"

Bill gives me an exasperated look, but I'm past caring about manners. Kingsley smiles and dips his head, acknowledging my right to answers. "Bill tells me you have quite a proposition for the Order."

I blink. "I do?"

Bill rolls his eyes. "Taking down the whole Ministry, perhaps?"

Draco snorts, and tries to turn it into a cough when I glare at him. "I'm not sure I would call it a proposition," I say to the Order members, "but if you need a more formal notification, you can consider this conversation as that. I'm working on a plan to overthrow the Ministry. I have allies all throughout the Continent, and while there are significant problems still to overcome, I have every hope that we'll do that."

Kingsley regards me, chewing the inside of his cheek. "And you were going to do this without checking with the Order?"

"The Order has done plenty of things without checking with me," I snap. "Even things that had a direct bearing on my life. If I hadn't happened to know Charlie Weasley was at the dragon sanctuary, I would have had no idea how to contact you, and I didn't even know he was in the Order, I just knew him. It never would have occurred to me to seek you out otherwise! Even if the Death Eaters hadn't been framing you lot for acts of terrorism, you're bloody impossible to contact. For your own safety, I'm sure, but isn't the Order supposed to stick up for Muggleborns and so on? Well, where were you when Mrs Haslet needed somewhere to keep her kids safe? What about her daughter Kay, who was in prison just for having two Muggleborn parents? What about Dean, up there?" I point angrily at the cottage. "And what about me? Why did I have to murder the fake Minister before your lot noticed me? When I'd already lost my job and my place at school and my right to go out in public unescorted? The Order of the Phoenix doesn't own the right to right to revolution, especially not when you've failed to do so much else so far. So no, I'm not going to ask your permission or whatever. Instead I'll extend an invitation. If you'd like to be involved in my revolution, you should tell me to what capacity you can commit. Because I'm doing this regardless of what you think."

Bill and Kingsley are both staring at me, and I think Viktor and Draco might be too, but they're behind my peripheral vision. Instead of waiting to see what any of them come up with in response, and before my temper gets even more out of hand, I stomp away and up the hill to the cottage. "Anyone else feel like telling me I can't have a revolution without their permission?" I demand of the kitchen, where the others are gathered over breakfast.

"Isn't that rather against the spirit of a revolution?" Luna inquires.

«Is that what Bill is doing outside?» Fleur demands. «I'm so sorry.» She gives me a swift kiss on the cheek and rushes out, nearly colliding with Viktor in the doorway as he comes hurrying in, Draco just behind him. Viktor comes straight over to me and wraps me in a hug, and I seethe in the comforting darkness for a minute, listening to the reassuring throb of his heart until my breathing settles. But then I give him a quick squeeze back and wriggle free.

I find Draco stiltedly explaining to Hermione and Harry and the rest what happened outside, and don't fail to see the way they unquestioningly listen to him, taking his word as good. It makes me feel sort of warm and reassured, and I'm glad to feel that after Kingsley and Bill had me so angry.

"Right," I say when Draco winds up. "Now that's clear, any thoughts?"

Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Griphook for some reason, all share a look. "Had you thought when you might be throwing this party?" Harry asks.

I raise my eyebrows at him. "As soon as we can get everyone across the Channel, basically. Why?"

Another mysteriously laden glance between the three younger wizards and the goblin. "We're planning something for the very beginning of May," he says. "It could be… a help to have most of the Ministry's attention aimed at… something else."

"Mm," I say. In the days we've spent at the cottage, Harry and his friends have mostly been sequestered away in one of their rooms upstairs, and whatever their plans are, they haven't shared anything significant. I still don't even really know what they've been doing these last months, since the last time I saw them—well, Ron and Hermione anyway, I didn't see Harry—at the wedding, but considering it's Harry, it's probably something important and related to You-Know-Who. A mission aligned with ours, though not explicitly related, I imagine.

"We'll make it happen," I say.

Yet the problem of getting all of our allies into the country stymies us for another four days. Bill speaks to me in that time, saying the whole thing with Kingsley had been badly handled on their part, and they didn't mean I needed their permission or anything. It's clear that Fleur encouraged him to apologise, so I accept it with politeness rather than sincerity. But he does say that after talking with the rest of the Order, he can promise enough people to make a real difference, and that they'll take whatever role I think is best. And that is exciting.

And Herr Amsel's next letter is even better. It comes with Kreacher's regular delivery, and when I understand what he's talking about, I sit bolt upright and tell Bill, "Mrs Haslet needs to be here."

I can see Bill holding in a protest, and watch him til I'm sure it's not going to appear. Viktor goes to retrieve her from the flat, and Bill lets her into the cottage's Charm, and I shove the letter at her practically before she gets into the house. "Alright, gracious, alright," she laughs, but her eyes widen as she reads. "Oh my word…. Of course, yes! Nita, are you at all aware of these details?"

I shake my head. "That wasn't really the point of the conversations I translated. It was more about logghaugh— Damn. Things other than that."

She smiles and starts to say something, but then notices the ring of intensely curious faces around us, and laughs. "Is anyone familiar with the artifact known as One Who Stands Resolutely In The Wind Of Pain?" As one, the heads shake, except for Hermione's, who makes a 'sort of' move with her hand. "Right. Well its history isn't the important thing, so suffice it to say that over the centuries, Germany and England have both claimed it as their own, and it has at times not been pretty. The reason for this, at least partially, is because it is what is known as a magical 'anchor', which are incredibly rare and powerful. It slightly strengthens all magic around it, and very slightly attracts magic that is done as far as two hundred kilometers away. Not to such a degree that it would affect the spell, but it is measurable. I've always thought a compass might be a better analogy, but anchor is what stuck for some reason. Anyway, because of this weak attractive force, it does not always react to magic in the expected way when spells are cast on it, and it warps magic such as wards or runes within its immediate vicinity."

"But it was sent to Gringotts, wasn't it?" I say. "That was the first thing I was hired for, when Mr Becker tried to scuttle the whole negotiation."

"It was supposed to, yes," Mrs Haslet agrees, while Griphook crosses his arms angrily. "But we were worried that during the attack by the Order of the Phoenix—the false one, yes, I know—it might have been damaged, so we kept it to run analyses. And then with the Muggleborn purge and everything else, we never made the transfer. So it's still in the Department of Mysteries. We can use it to get everyone into the Ministry."

From there, things fall into place almost scarily easily. Mrs Haslet corresponds with her German counterparts a few times to sort some final details, and once she says she's confident, we finalise our plans and do what we can to prepare. Through Bill, I relay tactics to the Order (and that's a bloody strange feeling) and practice combat spells with Viktor, Draco, Fleur, Harry, Ron, and Hermione, even though those last three aren't coming with us. My new wand is not overly fond of combative magic, but it seems to understand my need, and cooperates well enough. But a patchy education in Defense Against the Dark Arts combined with the Ministry cracking down on Muggleborn magic and then having no wand at all for the better part of a year means I'm behind everyone else on fighting skills. Viktor knows a lot of surprisingly dark stuff from studying at Durmstrang, as does Draco just from being a Malfoy, I reckon. Fleur runs me through what seems to be a standard gamut of defensive and offensive spells in both French and English, and Hermione and the boys all seem to know a weird hodgepodge of techniques that makes me even more curious what they've been up to these last ten months.

While spotting Fleur and Viktor's practice, I notice Draco sidle up to Hermione and ask about a spell she'd used, and watch her regard him warily before demonstrating for him. I turn away, smiling.

But there are other preparations, like writing to set the rendezvous point (near Calais, on the coast of France where the Channel is narrowest), and Kreacher takes Bill and Mrs Haslet to the spot on the same day that he takes the letters out to our allies, so they can place proper wards against Muggles wandering in, and to make sure Death Eaters can't slip in with the crowd and ruin the party. The Haslet kids are nervous to have their mum go away—I never did ask what happened to Mr Haslet, but considering their circumstances it can't have been good—and Madam Malkin helps look after them most days while we're at the cottage.

The day before we join Bill and Mrs Haslet across the Channel, Draco and Viktor and I are at the flat, I trying to explain to Budge that I'll be going away again for a little while and no he can't come with me, when Bonnie, Mrs Haslet's youngest kid comes over and sits quietly beside me til I'm finished with the poor owl. "Miss Nita?" she says.

"Yes?" I say, stomach turning over in sudden anxiety.

"My mum's coming back, right?"

My throat clenches. "Of course she is," I manage. "She's a terribly powerful witch, you know. And there will be loads of us to protect her too. She's coming back." I should know better than to promise things I can't control, but I can't stand how forlorn she looks.

"She says that about Dad and Kay and Dylan too, but they haven't yet," she says seriously.

I have to bite my lip for a moment before I can go on. "Kay was alright, last time I saw her. We'll find her again. You'll see." I can't tell what she's thinking when she looks at me then. So I just repeat, "You'll see."

Viktor and Draco and I leave for the cottage that evening, I with hugs from Madam Malkin and Bigby, Viktor with a hug and a handshake, and Draco with handshakes and rather somber looks. I'd asked Draco if he wanted to stay back from the actual fighting, considering who he might end up facing, but he'd been firm. In for a penny, in for a pound seems to be his philosophy, and I'm not going to question it too hard. We need all the help we can get, after all.

We Apparate to the beach, and find Kreacher waiting with Fleur and Harry and the rest who aren't coming. Even Fleur is staying, since she'll be joining with one of the groups of Order members for their part in the plan. "Are Miss and her friends ready?" Kreacher croaks.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm my heart, which is suddenly pounding. "Well. I suppose it being the fifth of November was too much to ask for, wasn't it?"

Hermione and Harry are the only ones who laugh. "What's on the fifth of November?" Ron asks.

"I suppose wizards wouldn't care about Guy Fawkes, would they?" I say, grinning. Harry and Hermione shake their heads. "Alright." I turn to Kreacher. "Thank you again, for everything. Can you take all three of us at once?"

"Yes, Miss." He holds out his hands to us, and Viktor and I take one and Draco takes the other. I have time to meet Fleur's eyes, to see the worry so tightly controlled there, before darkness snatches us up and we go twisting away.

House-elf Apparation doesn't seem to be any different from human Apparation, and I don't feel anything strange that might have been the wards interfering with us. We land with a bump on another beach, the sudden hard wind blowing my hair and cloak sideways. In the distance, I can see speckles of electric lights from a small Muggle town. "Over here!" I look around till I see Bill waving from behind a tussock of scrubby bushes. Kreacher bows to us and Disapparates, and we make our way over to Bill. He and Mrs Haslet and four others are sitting in a little clearing in the bushes, eating sandwiches. "Hello," I say curiously. "Are these the German Unspeakables you were writing to?" I ask Mrs Haslet. She nods, still chewing. „Hello," I say. „I'm Nita. Er, the Babel Witch."

All four of them scramble to their feet and eagerly introduce themselves and explain what they and Mrs Haslet have been doing for the past several hours. This turns out to be preparing an array of Runes similar to the one that originally brought One Who Stands Resolutely In The Wind of Pain to the Ministry, only this one's enormous, almost a quarter kilometer in diameter. We're still not totally certain how many people are going to be joining us, but our best count puts it at at least a couple hundred, between the Dandelion's Resistance and various supporters from across Europe. I was always good at Runes at school, but I haven't studied them since then and my knowledge isn't specialized enough to help them, so after they've finished their sandwiches and gone back to work, Viktor and Draco and I go back to sit with Bill and wait for everyone else to show up.

Rachael is the first to arrive, with a huge pack of people from the Dandelion's Resistance in tow, just as evening falls to proper night.

"Rachael!" I shout, hurrying to her through the sudden crowd as Viktor similarly goes in search of his seconds.

"Nita!" she crows, throwing her arms wide. "Look at us all! Two hundred and nineteen people! Can you believe it? And they all want to talk to you, of course. Viktor can probably hold them back for a little while, but you're famous, my dear! And we're going to bring down the Ministry!" She's grinning and giddy and I can't help but get caught up in her mood, even though being called 'famous' is dead weird.

"That's so many people! You're brilliant! God, okay, wow. You're the first group here," I tell her, trying to calm down. "Mrs Haslet and some Germans are working on the transport Runes, so I'd better explain to everyone to stay out of their way. Two hundred—? Okay." I shake my head. "Do you see Viktor? He'll have found his people, so if I explain to them, they can spread the word…"

Viktor's already coming for me though, with three people following close behind. -Nita,- he says. -I am pleased to have you meet the ones who helped me start the Dandelion's Resistance.-

They're all looking at me with avid interest, and that has never been a comfortable position for me. But I push the feeling down and nod respectfully. -The Dandelion's Resistance gave me hope when I didn't think I had any left,- I say, following Viktor's cue for Bulgarian. But one of the men leans over and whispers a translation to the only woman with them, and I falter. Glancing at Viktor, I ask, -Will it be easier to just default to my language all night?-

He chuckles. -It might be.-

|I owe you all a debt,| I say, and each of them startles a bit. |And after what we do tonight, I'll owe you another. All of England will. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.|

From there, the night is a whirlwind of groups arriving and introductions and greetings and gratitude. Charlie and Sofia and others from the Sanctuary arrive, and loads of smaller groups from various countries. The larger group from Germany includes Herr Amsel, and his hello is part effusive apology for not helping me at the time when I implied what I could about my service to the Malfoys. And I know others from various governments too, though most of their names have escaped me since we met, and they're all extremely eager to hear me speak my language. I mostly try to oblige, but as the hour gets later, we have to focus more on organizing ourselves and making the plan clear to everyone. Mrs Haslet and the Germans are putting the finishing touches on their Runes, and Bill is monitoring the wards he helped raise (he says that there have been a few minor alarms, but the notice-me-nots are working for the most part) and soon—sooner than I'd like—we're almost due to leave.

I'm in a group made up of Viktor, Rachael, Bill, Mrs Haslet, Draco, several ranking Dandelion's Resistance members, and a bunch of higher-ups from Ministries across Europe, Herr Amsel among them. "Reckon you should explain some things, Nita," Bill says, nodding around at the monumental crowd around us. The last number I heard was four hundred and thirty, but I think that was before the Spaniards arrived. It's mind boggling to have recruited such a number of people, and the last thing I want to do is talk to all of them, have all of them looking at me. I've never been good with crowds, and I'm no kind of leader. But I'm the only one who can talk to everyone at once so that they'll understand. I take a deep, shaky breath.

I aim my wand at the ground I'm standing on and mutter, "Levosolum." The area under my feet rises till I'm head and shoulders above even Bill. Someone has cast a hundred little flames up into the air to give people enough light to see, and a sea of faces turns and looks up at me. Sweat stipples my back and forehead. It's too much like my trial, all these people staring at me, hundreds of faces raised in the dimness, eager and expectant and I remember the feeling of chains, Umbridge snapping my wand, the bellowing roar of "Kiss—Kiss—Kiss—Kiss!" and the pain—

I force another deep breath, try to make my heart stop jumping in my chest, my unburned chest. This isn't my trial. I'm free now. These people want to hear me speak. Aiming my wand at my throat this time, I say, "Sonorus," and feel warmth spread up my neck to my mouth. |Hello.| My voice rolls out like calm thunder. I clench my hands to make them stop shaking and hide them in the folds of my cloak. My green cloak, my dandelion cloak. I've only ever been myself, and that has always been enough. |I'm the Babel Witch, and the dandelion of the resistance, and a murderer, and a witch who's had her rights stripped away because of her blood status. And my name is Nita. You all came here because you heard what's happening in England, and you want to help stop it. I'm grateful for that, more grateful than I can say in any language.

|I won't lie and say I'm sure what's going to happen. The criminals running our Ministry are powerful and entrenched. Launching our attack in the middle of the night should help mitigate their response, and we have agents targeting their leaders to ensure that any pushback we do face is disorganized and weak. But it will still be dangerous. No one will think less of you for deciding this is more risk than you can reasonably take for a land and a people who are not your own.| No one moves. Not one of the four hundred-odd people leaves. I swallow down a stubborn lump in my throat. |Alright. At midnight, Mrs Haslet and her colleagues will engage the transport Rune array they've created. This will bring us into the lowest level of the Ministry complex, the Department of Mysteries. There are many volatile and dangerous artifacts stored there, and it is in your own best interests to not touch anything, no matter what.| I pause. |Just… trust me.| From there I explain the layout of the Ministry, choke points like the lifts we need to plan for, where we might find stronger resistance, and what happens after we succeed. Because the Ministry needs to be not only defeated, but held.

Then it's a matter of organization—teams are built around common languages and tasks are distributed and described.

And then there are twelve tense minutes until midnight. I stand, turning my new wand around and around by the grip, reminding myself of just-learned curses and hexes and fixedly not thinking of the last time I had to defend my life and ended up killing a man. A horrible, awful man who would have killed me and enjoyed it, but still. I don't want to do it again.

But all at once, when I feel like we must still have ten minutes to wait, Mrs Haslet and the German Unspeakables start shouting "One minute! One minute! Stand away from the Runes there please! …Fifty seconds!"

Sudden fear bolts through me and I grip my wand so hard I feel the very grain of the wood against my fingers. Viktor steps up next to me and takes my other hand in his and I look up at him with wide eyes. He leans down and kisses me once. -I said before, didn't I?- he says quietly. -Enough bad things have happened to us. Everything will be fine.-

-God, Viktor, are you trying to attract bad luck? Stop it!- I scold.

He doesn't reply, just grips my hand a bit tighter. Mrs Haslet calls the thirty second warning, and the huge ring of Runes surrounding us begins to glow white and blue. My mind is racing ahead on a hundred different tracks at once, tracks of hope and success and victory, but more tracks of loss and defeat and capture and torture and Viktor in pain and the Haslet kids with no parents and if the Order is holding up their end then we have a good chance but if they're not then—

"Ten seconds! Nine—eight—seven—" It's a bizarre mimic of New Years Eve, and lots of people join in, in all their different languages until every single one of us, I think, shouts "ONE!" and the glowing Runes flash blindingly bright.

There is no sensation of travel as there is with Apparation or Portkeys. I just blink against the light, and when I open my eyes the beach in France is gone, and we're in a large, dim, interior space full of oddly shaped objects. And right in front of me is One Who Stands Resolutely In The Wind of Pain, just as I remember from the transfer ceremony where Herr Heeren was killed. A grey stone figure of a woman, wearing a hooded cloak with a staff held out in both of her hands. I hadn't had a good look at her at the transfer ceremony, but now I can see that her face is carved to be calm and stern and assured, and that somehow, despite being nothing but stone, her eyes are looking right at me. Unnerved, I tip her something between a nod and a bow, and quickly turn to the others.

Mrs Haslet is speaking some kind of spell, waving her wand in slow circles over her head. When she's done, she calls, "Someone open a door!" Someone does, and word comes back that it lets out into the long black corridor with blue flame torches, the entrance of the Department of Mysteries. She nods firmly. "Good, it worked. Once everyone is out, the whole level will be locked down. No one will be able to get in again without five Unspeakables and the Minister for Magic. We won't have to worry about anyone coming up from behind once we get further." We nod and I lead the push through the crowds.

|Come on,| I call, stepping into the black corridor. |As soon as we're all out and this door is shut, this level will be secure. There's a lift at the end of the hall to go up.| I lead the way with Bill and Viktor flanking me, though summoning the lift feels anticlimactic with the eager crowd of revolutionaries behind me. Someone cracks a joke as we wait, and is met with equal parts scoffing and scolding.

The lift finally dings its arrival, and the cool female voice announces, "Maximum occupancy is fifty people." It only looks large enough for fifteen at the most, but the lift probably knows its own business better than I do. |Bill, you and fifty of yours go first,| I call, mentally reconfiguring the plan with this new information. We'll be able to strike much more efficiently than we had thought. |I'll get the rest of the groups organized and start on our level.| Bill nods grimly and steps into the lift, his prearranged teams following him. Rachael is among them, and she grins and grips my arm briefly as she goes by. My heart kicks with fear that she'll be hurt if she goes with them, that I'll never see her again, and squash the thought down savagely. Everything will be fine.

In the time it takes the lift to take the first group up and return for more, we've divvied the rest of the teams into groups of fifty. I lead the next group into the lift, with Viktor on one side of me and Draco on the other. We're to take Level 2, Magical Law Enforcement, and Mrs Haslet will lead a third group up to Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. Then the remaining teams will distribute themselves to the three active levels as needed, and Sofia will stay behind with the other medics and Healers. Once we've secured those three levels, we'll take on the rest. Bill and his group will be taking care of Level 1, the Minister's Office and those of his support staff, which we expect to set off all sorts of alarms, but if the Order is doing as they're supposed to and keeping the leaders of the Old Guard and Ministry Department Heads from responding, that defense should be disorganized and slow. But we can't count on anything. That's why we're going up to Level 2, Magical Law Enforcement. It has somehow transpired that I know this Level best, after my various visits there, both as a contracted worker and as a prisoner. I'm still no great warrior or duelist, but the people around me are, so I put my trust in them and try to calm down as the lift door slides shut and we start to rise.

The corridor is silent and dark as the doors open again, almost a mirror to the Department of Mysteries corridor below, but lights flicker to life as we step out, and it's plain white light, not the sinister blue of the torches. |Four or five people need to stay here to guard the lifts,| I call. |Someone could come down from above. The rest of us, break into teams of five and spread through the level. Be methodical. Take prisoners of anyone you find: try not to kill anyone, but defend yourselves as needed. Seal and mark doors once you've checked the rooms for people or threats. Meet back here when you're through.|

I set off first, Draco and Viktor following, Viktor signalling to two of his Dandelion's Resistance members to round out our team. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement is extensive and labyrinthine, as I learned on my very first visit to Madam Bones all that time ago. Each corridor branches off onto a dozen others, and even if most of the doors only lead to boring offices with nothing more threatening than a sentient wastepaper basket, it's still time consuming to check them all. Some doors are already locked, and some turn out to be storage rooms of confiscated magical objects of unknown malignancy and power, or rooms that are empty except for chairs with straps on the arms and legs, their purpose clear to infer. My stomach roils with hot, bitter fury, and I lead my team away from the areas we're supposed to be, in a new direction.

"Aren't we supposed to be searching?" Draco asks even as he follows me.

"We are," I growl.

I recognize the door when I get to it, and blast the hated thing off its hinges. Stairs lead down, and I hear someone shout at the bottom. Gripping my wand tighter, I rush into the darkness. There are two men at the bottom, in front of another door. There's a game of cards spread on the table next to them, but they're standing with wands pointed up at us. Old Guard sashes betray their loyalty and I Stun them before they can even start their spells. The door behind them resists longer, perhaps they've reinforced it since I was last here, but it caves against all of us blasting it at once. -Nita, what is…?- Viktor asks as the door falls in, but I march in without answering.

The smell is worse than I remember, and the torches gutter lower, and the wimpers are more numerous. I cross to the nearest door. A man cowers on the filthy floor, trying to cover his head with his arms. "Please!" he sobs, "Please, please, please, I don't know anymore, please, I won't ever go to Hogwarts, I promise, please I want my Mum, please…" His voice is childish and terrified and I'm devastated that my intuition turned out correct. This is where they're keeping Muggleborns whose Obliviations aren't complete yet.

The cell doors prove the most difficult yet to open. When I was kept there, the Auror just had to tap the door with their wand, but when I try that, a bolt of yellow light slams into me and blows me back against the opposite wall, leaving me dazed for a solid ten minutes after. Draco is the one who eventually solves it, by using careful Severing Charms all around where the hinges are attached to the walls. We get them all off quickly after that, and I search the twenty-some cells desperately, unsure if it would be better or worse for Kay to still be here.

She's not, but I do know one person: little old Miss Isley, the other Muggleborn Unspeakable I worked with on the Howler jar. She's lost her thick spectacles, and blinks up at me owlishly, plucking at the tatty shawl around her shoulders. "Hello," she says. "Are you my friend?"

I barely restrain a sob. "Yes, I am. My name's Nita. Would you like to come out of here?"

"Oh, yes please, I think so," she says, tottering to her feet. I reach to steady her, and she takes my hand trustingly. "There was this man, you see, and he said I was going to learn magic, but this isn't like he said it would be. He said it would be a school, you see, with other children and I would be allowed to write to Mother and Papa."

"I'm… I'm afraid things have gone a bit wrong with that." My voice wobbles dangerously, and I bear down hard on my emotions. This isn't the time to fall to pieces. Plenty of time for that once we've won. "Let's find a nice spot to have a sit-down, shall we, and we'll have it—we'll have it sorted in no time at all." Isley accepts this placidly, and Viktor, Draco, and the two Dandelion's Resistance members, all looking shattered, help me guide the score of weary and confused Muggleborns out and up the stairs. One man who must be in his forties is eagerly explaining to Draco how we must be Aurors, because Aurors are the ones who rescue kids from Dark Wizards, that's what his big brother said, and his big brother's in Ravenclaw so he's really clever and isn't it true that only a Dark Wizard would lock up kids for no reason?

Just as we reach the top of the stairs, I hear shouting voices coming towards us. "...barricade ourselves in the prison level til a Captain or Madam Umbridge gets here! This way!" We hastily push the Muggleborns behind us and Viktor puts up a preemptive Shield Charm just as a gaggle of panicky Old Guard rush around the corner ahead of us. They clatter to a stop when they see us, and one of them shouts, "They've got the Mudbloods!"

The fight is swift and brutal, and ends with the eight Old Guard unconscious and locked in the prison themselves, their wands left in a pile by the stairs.

There have been other skirmishes, as small groups of confused and leaderless Old Guard responded to the various incursions we made, but they're each put down and locked up without much trouble. The Order of the Phoenix is doing its work well, as we see no sign of Umbridge, or any Old Guard of rank. After checking through the rest of the Department to make sure there aren't any surprises lurking, we make our way back to the lifts, where an eager Russian girl reports, ‹The level downstairs is secure! They left a small crew just to be safe, but everyone else went to Level Four. They say there are lots of creatures that were kept prisoner there, and they're helping now that they're freed. And someone just came down from Level Five and said there is trouble there. Is that were we should go?› I confer quickly with Viktor, and then amplify my voice and speak to our gathered teams, nearly a hundred people all told, packed together in the corridor.

|Twenty people need to stay here to make sure the level stays secure and guard the prisoners, and help any wounded get down to the Healers. And five English-speakers to stay with the prisoners we freed. It'd… it'd be better if those ones are good with kids.| I have to stop for a moment. |The rest of us are going up to Level Five to help with whatever's happening there.| Volunteers are quickly found, and the rest of us pile back into the lifts and rise from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to the Department of International Magical Cooperation.

As soon as the doors slide open, we can hear shouting and spellfire. Some of our people stand guard at the lifts, and their faces fill with blatant relief when they recognize us. „They're down the hall, there!" one of them says to me urgently. „They somehow got a lot of people through one of the offices. We're holding them in place, but we need reinforcements. Go, fast!" There's not much need to translate that, and the whole lot of us take off running towards the noise.

The core of the fight is at a juncture of corridors, with our side helmed by Bill and Rachael and Herr Amsel and a dozen others, with the rest kneeling and crouching behind, ready to step up if anyone falls. I can't see around our people to tell who they're fighting, aside from that some of them have Old Guard sashes on. |How many are there?| I shout to one of the people kneeling nearby.

"I think someone said thirty, but I couldn't tell!" he calls back. "There's a blonde man leading them, that's all I know!"

I glance, wide-eyed, at Draco. He's gone paper-white. "You don't have to—" I start to say.

"No, I should," he interrupts. "I might be able to get him to stop."

"I'll go with you," I say.

"That'll just antagonize him!"

We duck as a blast of red light slams into the wall across from us, showering us in plaster chips. I give Draco a look. "Well, since he's already antagonized…" he relents. The two of us, Viktor close behind of course, make our way up to just behind Bill and Rachael. I can see the enemy now, a messy clutch of twenty-five or thirty people, lots of them in Old Guard sashes. Mr Malfoy is at the front, throwing curses and hexes with a focused fury. My scarred hand clenches an instinctive reaction.

"Let us through!" I shout. Bill darts a look back at us, taking in me and Viktor, then Draco, and his expression turns to something torn between hope and anxiety. He still doesn't fully trust Draco, despite everything he's done, everything he's seen him do, and I'm amazed to find myself offended about it. "Move!" I command, and he blinks, and does.

Viktor casts a Shield Charm for us, protecting the gap as we step out into it. It seems like everything hesitates as we clear the line, like everything stops what they're doing for just a short moment. But then one of the Old Guard screams, "That's Nita Linese!" and the moment is gone. Stunners, blasting spells, and every kind of curse under the sun descend on us, and the Shield Charm buckles under the onslaught. We manage to renew it, barely in time, and hear Mr Malfoy screaming, "Stop! STOP! SHE HAS MY SON!" The pure panic in his voice almost makes me feel sorry for him. The spellfire abates from the shield and silence descends instead. The five or so meters between me and Draco and his father are vast and empty.

Mr Mafoy stares at me, eyes glittering with hatred. "Whatever you've done to my son, girl, it ends now," he says in a low voice.

I lift my chin. "I haven't done anything to him."

His smile is slow and twisting. "Walk over here, Linese, and kneel before me."

Blinding fear fills me. Mr Malfoy was the one who originally put the blood binding on me. We'd never been able to truly test that it was dormant since Draco was the only Malfoy we had. What if it's still in effect? What if the counterbinding wasn't complete after all? If I start walking over there then Viktor will kill him and will Draco ever forgive that—?

But there is no pain. My heart beats on and no band of iron pressure tightens around my chest, no knife slides between my ribs. I am free. I am free.

My smile is just as triumphant as Mr Malfoy's. "No," I say.

"Miserable Mudblood bitch," he snarls, terrified. "What did you make him do?"

"She never forced me to do anything!" Draco shouts. "What you taught me was wrong, Father! We're not better than them! We never have been!"

All the confidence drains out of him. "Draco…" he whispers. But then one of his Old Guard cronies calls out, "Why's your brat with the enemy, Malfoy?" Another shouts, "He's turned traitor for a bit of filthy quim!" and another, "If the Dementors couldn't kill her, we can!" And the battle joins again, spellfire savage and bright on both sides.

But it's also over quickly. Draco's defection seems to have broken Mr Malfoy's will to fight, and his allies sense this hesitancy, and their ranks break and run after only a few minutes. Bill and Rachael and Viktor lead the charge after them. I stay back, with Draco, trying to assess his feelings from his expression. I'm not very good at that yet, so I end up just asking, "Alright?" His mouth is pressed into a thin line, but his eyes are very wide, and when he goes, "Mmhm." it's pitched rather high. I snort. "Go on, then."

He looks at me with desperate appeal. "He'll surely disown me now."

I understand that when he says this he's more worried about the emotional aspect of this than anything else, but that's the one thing I can't help or even really empathize with. "Would it… make you feel better to think that if we win, he'll likely be in prison too fast to do it legally?"

He squints at me, as though unable to tell if I'm joking. "Not really."

"Oh. Sorry. Well, you're welcome to stay with me, if you want."

He doesn't smile, but he stops looking like the world is ending quite so badly. "Right. Thanks."

The level is cleared quickly after that, and Mr Malfoy and many of the Old Guard with him are taken prisoner. There are a few more injuries than we've taken on the rest of the levels, but nothing life-threatening, fortunately. Draco, Viktor, and I join the forefront of the fight, with Bill and Rachael and Herr Amsel and others of the Dandelion's Resistance, and we take the levels of Magical Transportation and Magical Games and Sports without any trouble, and when the lift doors open to reveal the dark and echoing Atrium, it's like waking up from a very strange dream. It's over? We've done it? The Ministry is ours?

"Oh my god," I gasp, incredulity and gladness meeting and clashing with horror as I look around properly and realize what I'm seeing. The banners of UNITY - PURITY - SAFETY still hang in ranks between the Floo fireplaces, but they're nothing, just bits of cloth. In the middle of the Atrium squats the cage I was tried in, malignant and somehow radiating cold. And within the cage is a figure, a figure with its arms chained so that it can't lie down. It kneels, head hanging low, I can't tell if it's breathing. With an inarticulate shout of rage, I rush across the empty floor, wand out and ready to blast the damned thing open, break those chains with my teeth if I have to, save whoever this person is— But the instant I touch the bars, the person surges to their feet, snapping and snarling at me, though queerly silently. Shocked, I stumble back, and, through the roaring pounding of my heart, slowly realize that it's not a real person chained in the cage: it's a mannequin, enchanted much more elaborately than the ones Madam Malkin used to have in her windows. It's been glamoured, so its features shift and morph as I look at it, from male to female and black, young, middle aged, and old… but it keeps its expression of fury and hatred. Viscous brown sludge drips from its wrists where the chains seem to chafe, and all at once I understand: this is the Ministry's reminder of what they're 'protecting' the wizarding world from. This is a literal Mudblood, the mad and evil creature that wants to tear their civilization down.

Others have crowded up around me by now, exclaiming in shock and disgust, and when someone touches my arm, I cry out and yank away. But it's Viktor, it's just Viktor, I'm safe, we've won, and this awful thing can't hurt me. I force one deep breath, and another. The pain is in the past. When I was here before, the place was packed with screaming people demanding I be Kissed by a Dementor. When I was here before, Umbridge broke my wand. When I was here before, I was chained and tortured and convicted for murdering the wrong man and made the face of the wicked Mudblooded enemy.

Now I'm here on my own terms, victorious, ready to bring the whole system down. I set my jaw and take Viktor's hand, looking at him in a way that I hope means I'm okay, I'm sorry, thank you.

Someone, Rachael I think, calls out a spell that makes all the UNITY - PURITY - SAFETY banners flutter down and cover the cage, hiding the glamoured mannequin within, and attention turns back to practical matters: we've taken the Ministry. Now what?

"We can contact the Order," Bill announces. "They can bring the Department Heads and Old Guard leaders to the holding cells. What time is it? Seven thirty? We need to set up some sort of triage for when regular employees start arriving. Who here can do a Patronus? You, Nita? Brilliant, would you send it to Kingsley? I'll send mine to Fleur and they can tell the others. Expecto Patronum!" A glowing white falcon bursts from his wand and flaps in circles around his head while he gives it its message. I do as he says, casting the Charm, bearing down hard on the thought of Mr Malfoy's face when he realized he couldn't control me, and telling my fox to find Kingsley Shackelbolt and tell him the Ministry has been taken and he can bring the prisoners in.

From then on, I scarcely have time to think, between translating and helping sort out logistics. Kinglsey and his team are the first Order members to arrive, practically wrestling Umbridge as they Apparate into the Atrium. "—ALL TRAITORS!" she screeches. "TRAITORS AND MUDBLOOD LOVERS AND FILTH AND EEIIAAHHHHHHH!" Seeing me alive and well is apparently more than she can handle and she slumps in a faint that no one bothers to catch her from. Her head bounces on the marble floor and I don't envy—or pity—the headache she'll wake up to. Kingsley calls cheerful greetings as he levitates her and starts floating her along to the lifts and the cells in her erstwhile Department.

Others follow quickly. Mostly I don't know them, or only know their faces, though any who notice me go pale and stare (and I smile). But there are a few I do know more personally: good old Wendell Abrams the sixth, as a Captain of the Old Guard, is brought in with an escort of two Order members, and the look he gives me is a queer mix of disappointment and horror, as though he had hoped I would have better sense than to somehow survive my awful execution sentence and come back to wreak havoc and justice. It's difficult to resist thumbing my nose at him, but I do. I know a few other Department Heads, and square my shoulders at them when they gape, but there is one person I'm especially pleased to lord my freedom over. He arrives shouting, as Umbridge had, only he's on about "...be able to get you clemency, young lady, when this little insurgency falls apart, as it surely will, you must know, but if you happen to just slip my wand to me then—" Happily, Fleur is the one who brings Bagman in, and she knows to walk him past me. He almost chokes on his tongue when he sees me, but ever the gambler, he doesn't let the chance slide. "Nita, dear daughter! Thank Merlin! Tell this pretty friend of yours to let me go, hm? Come now. You know I never meant it. You wouldn't let your own father suffer, would you?"

At first, I just stare. Then I laugh in his face, two short, hard sounds that come up from the depths of my very soul. Viktor takes an outraged breath, but I stop him with one lifted hand. I think of a hundred cutting things to say, things to make Bagman cringe in shame and guilt, things that would prove once and for all that I am what I made myself and if he thinks that helping conceive me had anything to do with that then he can hang. I say only one of them.

|You're not my father,| I tell him calmly. His eyes gog out, but I'm already looking at Fleur. |Lock him up and make sure he is held exactingly accountable for his actions.| She nods grimly, and drags Bagman out, though he yells and protests the whole way.

Viktor leans close. -I would not have hurt him too badly.-

I rise to my tip-toes to kiss his cheek. -I know. But he's harmless now.-

I look around and find Bill staring at me. "You're Ludo Bagman's daughter?" he says.

"No, didn't you hear me?" I snap. "He may have got my mum pregnant, but he's not my father."

He looks like that's going to stick on its way down, but that's not my problem, and I march off to start on the next thing that needs doing.

The rest of the day is barely restrained chaos. The Ministry employs a huge number of people and practically all of them arrive at nine AM exactly. Bill and the rest of the Order take point on organizing how to contain them, and I'm firmly instructed to stay out of the way so that I don't cause a panic. Viktor and I end up down in the makeshift medical ward with Sofia and her team of Healers, helping as we can. I'm secretly glad to not have to deal with the hundreds of confused and angry Ministry employees who will surely not like being told to stay in their offices while a transfer of power is organized. Someone eventually thinks of food, and breakfast is orchestrated and distributed from somewhere, and only then, at 11 AM with a full stomach and no immediate threats to my life, I realize I'm exhausted and pull Viktor into a corner and curl up in my cloak and go to sleep leaning against his shoulder.

"Nita? Nita, wake up."

"Don't just tell 'er to wake up like zat, it's rude."

-Come on, sleepy stump, can you hear me?-

I swim back up to consciousness, groggy and disoriented. Viktor still sits next to me, and Draco and Fleur stand in front of us. -What is it?- I mumble. «What's happening?» Viktor helps me sit up properly and I wipe sleep out of my eyes. "What? What happened?" I huff, annoyed at myself. |What's going on?|

-Wow,- Viktor says, eyes dancing with laughter. -I'd better make sure you always get your sleep.-

I scowl at him. "What's the matter?" I feel like I've been asleep for a year, but that I could go for ten more if I just laid back down.

"We 'ave gotten a message from an Order ally in 'Ogsmeade," Fleur explains. "'Arry ees at 'Ogwarts and You-Know-'Oo and 'is Death Eaters are going zer as well."

"Things here are stable enough that the Order wants to leave the Dandelion's Resistance and go help," Draco continues. "I'd… I'd like to go with them."

I blink at him, trying to catch up with what they've said. "You don't need my permission," I say to Draco, picking the thing I can handle most easily. "Harry's showed up at Hogwarts? I thought he and the others were planning something with Griphook? You-Know-Who's going to be there?"

"Ah, yes," Viktor says dryly. "Ve have also heard news of a dragon ruining Gringotts—the bank, yes?—and reports say Harry vos there too."

I gawp at him, unable to come up with any response in any language. Finally I just shake my head. "I'm going to need to hear all of this again, later. For now, what do you need from me?"

"Eet would 'elp eef you explained to everyone what ees 'appening," Fleur says hopefully.

"Yes, good, translating. No problem. Help me up." I give Viktor my hands and he hauls me to my feet. I settle my cloak properly and run my hands through my hair, but that makes Draco laugh.

To my raised eyebrow, he says, "Somehow that made it stick up more."

"Typical," I mutter. "Come on, where's everyone?"

The answer to that is 'mostly the Department of Magical Law Enforcement or the Atrium' so we make two stops. |Taking the Ministry is a critical piece of achieving freedom for Muggleborns,| I say, magnifying my voice both times and mostly just repeating what the others explained to me. |But there is another piece, equally if not more important, coming to a head at Hogwarts, our school. If our side loses that fight, all of our efforts here will be for nothing. The Order of the Phoenix is going there to help. No one else is under any obligation to go with them: you've all done more than enough, and we need people to stay here and make sure the Ministry stays secure. I'm going to stay here for that purpose. But my… my brother's going with the Order, and if anyone else wants to go, they would be welcome. Just remember that communication might be harder, depending on your languages.| This gets chuckles both times I say it, and then thoughtful murmuring rises as people discuss what they want to do. |The Order will leave from the Atrium in just a few minutes,| I add, and the murmuring redoubles.

By the time everyone gets themselves organized, over a hundred of the Dandelion's Resistance wants to go with the Order. Rachael finds me in the throng and hugs me fiercely. "I'm going to Hogwarts," she says. "You hold down the fort here, and we'll see each other at home after, right?"

"Right," I agree thickly, hugging her back.

Bill, Fleur, Charlie, Kingsley, and the rest of the Order all go, many of them Apparating with members of the Dandelion's Resistance taken Side-Along. Rachael and Draco and Herr Amsel and many many others go with them, but I stay, and Viktor stays, and Sofia stays, and Mrs Haslet stays long enough to see everyone get off alright and then returns to the flat and her kids. I know she must be disappointed not to find Kay or her oldest son or Mr Haslet, but she doesn't show it. I ask her to give my love to Madam Malkin and Bigby, if he's there, and to tell them that Rachael is well, but on her way to more danger.

The next hours are tense. We get no word from Hogwarts, and while Viktor sits firmly in the 'no news is good news' camp, I'm more ambivalent, and stalk anxiously between Departments, unable to settle anywhere. A big part of me wants to be up at Hogwarts with them, battling Death Eaters and horrors, but I know I'm no warrior. Still, the tension and guilt of that twist me up in knots and at times it's hair-thin win against the decision to take it out on Bagman or Umbridge. They're both being held down in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, in the holding rooms where I spent the night before my non-disclosure hearing where Bagman denied his paternity. I like this irony, but it's not exactly cathartic. Viktor does his best to distract me, and this largely means I get to belatedly meet all the various and sundry members of the Dandelion's Resistance. I truly do enjoy that, and speaking all their languages is a nice relief, though the admiration they heap on me is at times discomfiting. But I'm still aware of every dragging minute, and desperate for any news.

In the small hours of the morning, a Russian Dandelion's Resistance member finds me and Viktor in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and breathlessly babbles, ‹They're back, some of them! The ones who went to your school, your brother! I think they said they won, but my English is bad! They seem like they won, anyway! They're upstairs!›

Barely remembering to say thank you, I race for the lifts, Viktor pacing me. They're surrounded by curious crowds in the middle of the Atrium, and a path forms for us as soon as people see who we are. There are three of them, and one of them is Draco, just as the Russian man said, and the other two are Kingsley Shackelbolt and Professor McGonagall. Kingsley has a bandage wrapped from his wrist to his bicep, but the other two seem alright. Until, that is, Draco hears us coming and turns around, and I almost fall over from shock. His left cheek, ear, the side of his neck, and down into the collar of his shirt are spattered with what looks like black ink, and his eye on that side is opalescent white. It's amazing in some ways, the panic I feel at the thought that he's been injured, and the fierce protectiveness that rises with it. I'd called him my brother earlier, and it seems that's become true, truer than I really understood. "My God," I gasp. "Are you okay? What is that? What happened?" I reach for his face, but he leans away, seeming abashed by the attention.

"It was a curse," he explains, brushing his fingers over the spot I'd almost touched. "A gift from my aunt. She was aiming at Granger, but she didn't seem sorry I got in the way. Madam Pomfrey says it's like a scar. It might fade eventually. But I'm blind in this eye now."

"Oh my god. Oh my god." Why is that all I can say?

"Really, I'm okay," he assures me, smiling a little. "I'm not the worst off—um, that is…"

My heart clenches tighter than it ever did under the blood binding. "What do you mean?"

"Your friend Rachael… She's alive," he says quickly, seeing my face. "They're taking her to St Mungo's. I'm not sure exactly what happened. She's alive though."

"Okay… Okay." I take a deep but unsteady breath. "We've won though, yeah? You-Know-Who and all the Death Eaters are gone and all that?"

"Potter defeated You-Know-Who," Kingsley says. "The Death Eaters and Old Guard are dead or captured. We've won."

"We've won," I repeat, and look at each of them in turn, trying to wrap my head around what that means. Draco looks proud but exhausted, Kingsley sternly victorious, and Professor McGonagall… Well she's got her hand pressed to her mouth, her brimming eyes fixed on me. "We've won!" I say again, still too overwhelmed by everything to really understand it.

For some reason that makes her burst into tears and she enfolds me in a tight, boney hug. "I couldn't believe it when they said you were alive! My dear girl, I'm so sorry! I'm so glad!"

And finally, for once, I understand love for what it is, and hug her back.

Kingsley clearing his throat is what makes her finally let go, mopping her eyes and laughing a bit. "I've been named Acting Minister," Kingsley says, sounding apologetic for interrupting. "And for my first act, I'd like to formally absolve you, Nita Linese, of all crimes and declare you a free and full citizen of magical England. I thank you for the irreplaceable aid you've rendered to our cause, up to and including telling me off about the Order." His lips twitch there, though he keeps his serious tone. "You may expect full and just recompense for the actions the government has taken against you both personally and as a legally registered Muggleborn." He bows deeply. "Thank you." But upon straightening, he's smiling broadly. "Now, you may want to explain to this lot what's going on."

I look around and remember we're still surrounded by most of the Dandelion's Resistance, and they all look avid. I grin. |We've won!| I shout, and the celebratory cry that goes up would shame a dragon.

There's still loads to do after that. I go about explaining everything in much more detail, first hearing those details from Draco and Professor McGonagall. All the organizing and transferring of prisoners from Hogwarts has to be figured out, and how to remove the wards around the country so that the Dandelion's Resistance can start going home, and getting the Department of Mysteries unlocked. The Obliviated Muggleborns we found in the cells are taken to St Mungo's. But it becomes clear pretty quickly that I'm not really needed for any of that, and Viktor and I go find Draco and ask if he wants to come home to the Alley with us. He hesitates before accepting, and I understand that he's going to have a lot to work through, what it means to have changed sides so abruptly. But he does accept, and I take him and Viktor by Side-Along Apparation to a back room of the Leaky Cauldron.

It's the middle of the day on a Saturday, so normally the pub would be crowded, but it seems that between everything happening at the Ministry and everything happening at Hogwarts and whatever havoc Harry wreaked at Gringotts (where in the world did he get a dragon?), people have decided to stay home, and the main room is eerily quiet. There's no one behind the bar, but Arlo steps out from the kitchen, starting to explain the lunch specials (borscht, it sounds like, and I can't help but smile) but when he recognizes me his mouth falls open in shock. "Hi Arlo." I can't help the grin that spreads over my face. "Want to help us take the Alley back?"

Still shocked and incredulous, he does, and the four of us go through the brick portal together and into the Alley-proper. There is a bit more traffic here, and the first scream of shocked recognition is swift in coming. Viktor and Draco move to stand in front of me, but I stop them with a look. A quick sonorous makes my next words audible to all the petrified onlookers. "Yes, it's me. It's a long story. The short version is that the unlawful and abusive Ministry regime under You-Know-Who's control has fallen, and it's not illegal to be a bloody Muggleborn anymore, since that never made any sense at all anyway. The Old Guard has no legitimate authority, and I've been absolved by the new Minister. I'm not here to hurt anyone. But I am home now, so get out of my way."

To my amazement, they actually obey. No one tries to stop me as I stride forward into the Alley. No one stops me when I draw my wand and dissolve the first UNITY - PURITY - SAFETY banner I see into blue and purple sparks, and the next, and every one after that. And most amazingly, no one stops anyone else from joining in and walking behind me with Viktor and Draco and Arlo. We pass the little side alley that leads to Bigby's and I ask Viktor to go see if he's there, and they both come back a minute later and walk beside me proudly. Ms Phillips comes out of the post office and pulls others with her. Madam Malkin comes down from her flat and chivvies even more people to join. The blokes from Quality Quidditch Supplies come out, looking amazed, and join us when Viktor waves to them. Mrs Haslet comes down from my flat with her kids, and no one tells them they don't belong. Gringotts is a wreck when we get there, half the building collapsed on itself, and I believe now that Harry did find a dragon somewhere. Repairs seem desultory at best, and many of the humans and goblins alike stop work and come with us instead, up the rest of the Alley. We continue, collecting people and dissolving Ministry propaganda as we go, until at the very top of the Alley, we come to a building that stood empty for as long as I'd known of it. Now, there's a huge Old Guard sign above the door, and nervous faces peering through the large window.

I do blast the sign rather than dissolving it as I'd done the banners, but I've been admirable in my restraint thus far, so a small break in peaceableness is surely excusable. They've locked the door against me, but a simple alohamora solves that, and I step into the Old Guard offices with my wand drawn and no intention of backing down.

There are four of them, each looking more frightened than the last. "Y-y-you're under arrest," one of them pipes up.

I laugh, a true, deep, sincere laugh, and that scares them even more. "Come on," I say, pocketing my wand. "Give me those sashes. The Old Guard is done."

Trembling but obedient, they do, and scuttle away like beetles. I turn around and find Viktor, Draco, Bigby, Madam Malkin, the Haslets, and many others arrayed behind me. "I think this should be it," I announce.

"Should be what?" Draco asks.

"Where I start that place," I say, looking at Viktor, who begins to smile. "The place that can be a home for whoever needs one." To Draco, "You can stay for as long as you want while you sort things out." To the Haslets, "You can stay while you find Kay and Mr Haslet and Dylan. And others who have a Muggleborn family member who needs time to recover, and kids whose families aren't good, and just… anyone. I think we can make this that kind of place."

"It vill take lots of vork, to do this," Viktor says, coming over to take my hand, my scarred and capable hand.

"Yes," I say grimly, gladly. "It will."

A/N

First of all, thank you for reading. This experience has been such a crazy ride, but seeing how invested everyone was in Nita's growth (and safety, sorry about that) made it all worth it. Big thank you especially to everyone who reviewed! I get a big stupid grin every time someone leaves even a little one.

I also have to give a massive thank you to my stellar beta badadder1, without whom this story would be nowhere as good (and probably not finished on time, hahah). If you liked Draco's redemption, thank her. (And if you happened to draw him with his post-battle curse scar I think she might actually die of happiness.)

I do have an epilogue planned! I'm going to take my time with it, meaning it might take a month or so, but it's going to get into everyone's happy-ever-afters as well as the work that goes into building a better wizarding world, and I'm very excited to show it to everyone. I'll probably also indulge myself at some point and do a little drabble series of scenes from this and 'Champion' from Viktor's point of view. I also-also have a Charlie-centric idea I might get into at some point now that I've got some characters and a setting to work with at the Sanctuary...

Happy New Year again! May 2021 be better than 2020!

E.I. signing out