Guest: Thank you for the comment! In fact, there are 92 chapters planned for this story, plus the Prologue, Intermezzo, and Epilogue. I hope to be finished in about 9 months, and I've finished stories just as long as this before. We are well into the thematic third "book" of four, with the first two being longer than the second two.

AncientUrn: Thank you for all of your constant kind comments! I'm very happy to answer that it's mostly knowledge, because I read a lot, and I have some practical experience in some matters from work, but also I do always have Google Earth Pro open when writing chapters, and I research anything that my mind points me towards that might be relevant.


1 February, 2004

100KM NNE of Unst, Shetland Islands

Captain Palliser was looking across the plotting map with Blaise, while outside the light was fading, slowing obscuring the grey waves, flecked with white, that sometimes appeared as the great carrier slowly rolled. The maps clearly laid out the current situation. From their current position, they could launch a strike which would hit either the group to the south, or to the north, with full loads. With the steam catapults the Inflexible was fitted with, she could easily get her group into the air with enough fuel for a combat radius of 550km; so, from a superficial point of view, it was ideal. They were one proper carrier facing three, but the two Russian ships to the north had ski-jumps and couldn't get their machines airborne with full loads of fuel and arms. Also, Palliser could commit his entire group in one go; the Kestrels on the Invincibles would provide air cover for the Taskforce, so it was not really three on one.

Their latest information showed the Russian Baltic Fleet off Farsund just west of the southernmost point in Norway, holding 29kts to the west. The shore defences in Jutland had reported that they had sunk two destroyers and heavily damaged the carrier, but Palliser knew their information was likely inaccurate, especially the later, because the RAF had already reported a strike package moving southwest that had originated from a position near Kristiansand where the latest intelligence reports did not place a Russian military airfield; it was the correct size for the package from the new Baltic carrier.

There were only two targets to the southwest of Kristiansand: The North Sea Patrol Squadron, which was coming up with a smattering of ex-NATO frigates, corvettes and missile boats to support their Taskforce against the Baltic Fleet's breakout, and, of course, the fortress of Azkaban. The dreaded reputation of Azkaban had permeated them all, but in fact, it was not clear what it was, other than the fact that all of the defence charts prepared by Voldemort's Ministry of Defence banned approach within 50 nautical miles, and implied that the fortress could command most of the North Sea with some kind of magical weaponry. If the Russians were attacking it head-on, having the excellent intel that Palliser knew they had, they were exceptionally bold men in those aeroplanes. He put his money on a strike against the North Sea Patrol Squadron, instead.

Blaise Zabini stood with a cup of tea in hand, looking at the map. He had expressed no surprise when the Baltic Fleet had been detected in the Kattegat twelve hours before. But, he expressed no surprise about anything. The man was certainly calm, even in very challenging circumstances; in fact, Captain Palliser would call him as cool as ice. But if he calmly made the right decisions, he would be far better than most of the wizards who had ever been rotated through to command the fleet.

Or something more.

Blaise finally shrugged. "Our aeroplanes would have to fly over Rogaland to hit the enemy fleet to the south, would they not?"

"They would, M'lord."

Blaise nodded, and turned back to the mirror which let him communicate much more directly with the mainland. Hedwig Jugson, daughter of a rather prominent Death Eater, was the overall defence force commander, and she was clearly not happy; Captain Palliser was content to slink into the background, and let Blaise speak.

"Have you engaged the shore defences at Stavanger?"

"I don't have the squadrons to attack them," the witch answered defensively. "There's a full regiment of S-400 missiles there, supporting two fighter regiments of Su-27s."

In fact, the position of the fleet off the Shetlands was not ideal, precisely because of the strength of the enemy position at Stavanger. Blaise sniffed. "I am out of position because of bad reconnaissance by the Jutland Air Operations Division. The Russian Baltic Fleet should have been detected near Bornholm, not after it had already broken through the pack ice. Hedwig, I need you to attack Stavanger, or I won't be able to support the North Sea Squadron."

Hedwig sniffed. "I don't care about the North Sea Squadron. I sent a team of wizards to raid Stavanger already, Blaise, and they accomplished nothing. MinKol was waiting for them in force."

"As anyone sane would be. You should have relied on your air assets. They're expendable, wizards are not." He took another sip of his tea. "How would you support the North Sea Squadron then?"

"Use them as bait, have them fall back toward Azkaban. If the weapons on Azkaban can destroy the Russian Baltic Fleet, this will still be a victory. Launch your own strike against the Northern Fleet instead."

"Is that your… Instruction, to the Navy?"

Hedwig glared for a moment with dark eyes. "Yes."

"Very well." He tipped a bemused salute, and waved his wand. The image vanished. "Well, we have our orders."

"We're leaving the Baltic Fleet in our rear. What if they don't take the bait?"

"Yes, exactly. It's only prudent to give us enough sea range so that strike packages from both the Northern and Baltic Fleets can't hit us at the same time, Captain," Blaise agreed. "Turn to course three-zero-zero and open up the range. If the Baltic Fleet comes in behind us, we can refuel and rearm in Scapa Flow instead of Rosyth. Tell the pilots it will be at least another hour before we launch, so they're to leave their aeroplanes and eat. We will turn to course zero-four-five and launch at dusk against the Trondheimsfjord."

"Night attack?"

"It will minimise the casualties, and preserve our options."

R are enough for one of you to care about those things, Palliser thought. In truth, he was grateful. It was a sensible decision, if far more cautious than he had expected. But without Admiral Lowe here to advise him, Blaise Zabini was in actual command of the operation and he did not have the experience with naval operations—therefore, he was deferring to Hedwig, who was the overall Area Defence Commander, and also, he was acting sensibly, being cautious about the situation and avoiding risk. Once, in another life, Palliser would have encouraged him to attack more aggressively. Catching even the two Russian carriers in the Northern Fleet would be a great victory, despite the risk. His men would press home the attack, even with thirty jets against the entire enemy fleet, confident that the Royal Navy could deliver a victory as it had in many past wars, regardless of the odds.

But this wasn't the Royal Navy, and in his heart of hearts, he would sooner be in command of one of those Russian carriers himself. Arthur Palliser came to attention and saluted. "Of course. M'lord. I will be making the course change shortly. Hmm." He looked again at the distances to the Northern Fleet's position and the Trondheimsfjord. "You know, M'lord, I think that if we wait two hours, we may be able to get them already in the Fjord, as they enter. They won't be able to manoeuvre, then."

Blaise looked at him, and then grinned. "That would be ideal actually."

Palliser felt satisfied that he might have made a sensible suggestion, and counted it good enough for the circumstances. Then he stepped out for the bridge. "Fleet signals: Steer course three-zero-zero, maintain fleet speed of twenty-five knots. Inflexible Air group to rotate men for food in the aviator's mess, maintain the squadrons at Ready Ten."

Through the gloomy sky of the Norwegian Sea in February, the squadron sailed on. 300km away on the storm-swept coast of Norway, the next step in the plan unfolded.

1 February, 2004

The Island of Sula, Norway.

There was a simple, beautiful house with two stories and a large open deck—presently covered with snow—at 500 metres elevation in the hills of the island of Sula to the south of Ålesund, overlooking Molvær and the harbour from a position not far from the summit of Mount Vardane. With the windows facing to the north, it was already dark when Narcissa and Andromeda took dinner with the children. Fjords and islands and open fields of grass clinging to the sides of mountains and ridges were all around in sweeping views that had faded into nothingness, into the darkness of cities where mandatory blackouts were enforced, even when the electricity worked. Whomever had occupied it and built it originally was forgotten in the tumult of the war, and abandoned during the occupation, the Government had provided it to Narcissa while she was present for the operations.

After dinner, the two women went into the Library, which had been converted into a planning room. They were greeted there by an FSB officer, who introduced himself as 'Colonel Kabanov', Narcissa remembered Bellatrix mentioning his name; with him was a witch, in the uniform of the Norwegian Army, with dark hair but sharply pale skin. "Turid Olafsdottir." Many Norwegian witches still used the old Scandinavian naming customs, like Iceland.

Then he turned to his other companion, who in fact ranked the others. "Darya Maegorovna." He didn't provide a surname, but Narcissa was surprised; though the woman was white-skinned with sharply silvered white hair like her own son's, but moreso, her eyes were a certain lilac, and moreover, that was a very Russian name, but she was in the uniform of an Indian Air Commodore, and the medals suggested she had been in combat, and an expression in her eyes that, in common with Colonel Kabanov, suggested she was—whatever role she had now—an experienced killer.

Also there was nothing to identify her as a witch—she wasn't visibly carrying a wand—but Narcissa felt she was rather distinctly magical nonetheless. There was nothing definite, just a sort of feeling.

"Miss Olafsdottir is an expert in ancient siege magic, Your Grace," Colonel Kabanov explained, "to the college of historians of the Kalmar Ministry." Muggle that he was, he had adapted professionally and competently to the existence of magic. "Darya Maegorovna represents a special engineering technical group in engineering matters in coordination with the Indian Government."

Andromeda looked sharply at Narcissa, who nodded once and moved to sit. "This is about my inquiry into the enchantment of weapons, is it not?" The Duchess of Lancashire asked.

"Yes Your Grace," Turid said, and agreeably began to form a magic image, unfolding various artefacts, on the map-table.

Darya sat down and folded her legs, watching with a quiet expression, taking her hat off to rest it in her lap. Behind her, the rain lightly splattered on the window.

"Cissy, what are you planning?" Her older sister asked very softly. There just seemed to be a certain air in the room.

"Enchanting nuclear weapons," Narcissa answered, very coolly, very precise.

"We have managed to compute the loss of yield to the enchantments, using the arithmantic equations provided," Darya observed from where she sat, nearly expressionless. "The engineering simulations confirm that there's still enough fission energy for a chain reaction even with the enchantments having been made, so, on the technical side, the answer is simple—it's viable. Turid will have to explain the rest."

Andromeda had gone very quiet.

Narcissa glanced at her sister for a moment, and then looked to Turid. "Well, do go on."

"Of course, Your Grace. Are you aware of… Siege magic?"

"I am. It has not been used in centuries, of course. I don't believe a single spell has been cast since the Statute of Secrecy was adopted," Narcissa answered. "I take it you are adapting siege magic. But those are all short-effect spells, not enchantments."

"Well, except when it's used defensively," Turid smiled, rather deviously. "There is a defensive enchantment for walls which, indeed, would be perfect for the application you propose—the mine-crushing charm."

Mine. Narcissa knew enough about historical warfare to understand the very concept of a 'mine' came from a literal mine, an intentionally dug tunnel. The muggle explosives were just a new concept using the old name; originally, a mine was used to literally 'undermine' walls.

"It was intended, Your Grace, to react when worked into a wall—to reach out and collapse a mining work coming under the walls. We believe we have a sequence to adapt these spells, however, the adaptations will mean that the sequence will not last for long on the device, before it dissipates. So it still must be worked close to when the weapon is used."

"How much time?" Narcissa asked.

"Four to six hours."

"So it will have to be cast by someone on the launching vessel. Well, that will be arranged. Do you see any disadvantage from the use of defensive magic?"

"No, indeed, it should be safer. Of course there are still risks. You can feel in the bones of this mountain the terrible working that happened to the west."

"The Great Slide," Narcissa nodded, and Andromeda stiffened.

"Yes. That was, siege magic used along very particular ley lines," Turid nodded. "Of course, it took advantage of a natural vulnerability. We will use nuclear weapons instead."

"It's a risk we will accept. Thank you." Narcissa looked down to both women. "You will be available for planning and training?"

"Yes," Darya drawled. "Unfortunately, they're not letting me fly until this business is done. Too important, or somesuch. I'll be around, unless I decide to steal an Su-27 for a patrol."

Kabanov shot her a look, and the woman got a little bemused grin. Narcissa quickly surmised the Indian Air Commodore enjoyed tweaking the FSB man.

"The temple I maintain is near here," Turid agreed. "I… Will be praying this is for the best benefit of our people. I am uncomfortable, I admit, merging the muggle poison with our natural magic."

"You're not the only one," Andromeda shrugged and rose, staring intently at Darya in particular.

"Both are natural by definition. After all, they exist in the world," the Air Commodore rose, and bowed politely. "Your Grace, M'lady. We will be ready."

Andromeda paced uncomfortably as they left. At the click of the door closing behind them, she unleashed a torrent on her younger sister. A flight of military jets, on some patrol or another, flew overhead, first drowning out and then seeming to echo her words.

"...a horrible idea, Narcissa. I didn't know you intended to do this!" Andromeda exclaimed, her dark eyes a bit wild, her pace frenetic. "Muggle nuclear weapons are bad enough without being blended with magic."

"Andy, the prophecy says that there are only two men who may kill the Dark Lord. They both died at the Battle of Hogwarts," Narcissa didn't lose her cool with her sister, or stand, as Andromeda twirled about, acting rather Bella-ish, all things said, if with very different portents. Bellatrix wouldn't give a fig, even though she had once been very concerned about nuclear weapons. "In fact, there's no way out of this war by killing Voldemort. That means we can only win by taking and holding territory. I must leave nothing to chance. Andy, we don't know how to win. There's no magic bullet. This isn't a war that can be settled by a single duel like Dumbledore's with Grindelwald. Not now. All we can do is reduce his territory and power until he is a single man, hunted by the whole world. Perhaps he can be captured and locked up. But we must take any measure to win. And Britain is the most intact nation on the planet. If my engineering the defection of Britain succeeds then the Morsmordre will be crippled."

Andromeda paused and looked hard at her. "All right, Narcissa," she said, ever so seriously, full name, grim expression. "And what if it does something unexpected?"

"Then it will do something unexpected to our enemies. We will be firing long-range cruise missiles from positions in the North Sea off Stavanger," Narcissa's voice was taut, and she gripped the armrests of her chair with her hands hard enough to turn them pale. "This is being reviewed at multiple levels by MinAtom, by the Indian Department of Atomic Energy, by MinKol, by the Norwegian and Swedish Ministries as well… This meeting was not the first, it won't be the last. Andy, if we don't take out the Channel Tunnel, the invasion will fail. And we need to take out Azkaban to clear the way. Only enchanted missiles will get through to Azkaban. Otherwise, its own defences… Will block the cruise missiles going into the Channel from the north. And conventional nuclear weapons don't have the power to crack the tunnel, it's too deep. Bella already agreed with me."

"Oh great, Bella agreed.."

"She was very concerned about the environment growing up. She saw that Muggles were destroying it. And she's right. They were. But a few more bombs, more or less, won't change what's already been done. Andy, you're a Black…"

"It isn't the nukes! I know our forces have to use them sometimes. But what if it does something to—to magic itself? Has anyone combined magic and radiation before? Magic can't heal it; that's known."

"I can't talk about it, Andy, but MinKol had experts."

"What do you mean you can't talk about it? Cissy, you're the Head of Government! The Lady Regent! You can damn well declassify it if you want to."

"Well then, I'll just tell that you're wrong." Narcissa got up and walked to the windows. "We do have some experience. MinKol attempted something at Chernobyl, after the incident there."

The statement brought Andy up short. "Oh."

M idnight, 1-2 February, 2004

Trondheimsfjord, Norway.

The Blackburn Buccaneers from the Inflexible went low over the Trondheimsfjord. Night-flying at low altitude over the mountains and black water of the Norwegian coast in rainy conditions was exceptionally dangerous. To these highly trained men, whose bombers had been enchanted to make them almost undetectable, the risk was the terrain and the lack of warning—their altimeter radars would ruin their protection—rather than any enemy fire.

Even the sound from the engines had been muffled by the charms. But magic itself had its own risks, and the Norwegian wizards had already raised detection charms around the entire anchorage. The Bucs blasting them through at 1070km/h 'on the deck' at an altitude of 20 metres triggered orange blossoms in the sky, briefly illuminating the green and black roundels on the wings marking them as servants of the Morsmordre.

A Lumos Magnos charm erupted into the sky above them. Tracer rounds from 57mm automatic cannon, both Soviet and Bofors models, began to streak into the sky over the Trondheimsfjord. Several SAM complex systems attempted to lock on, but the charms on the bombers—sacrificing technology for stealth (if they brought up any of their radars, the electronics would be immediately destroyed by the charms)-held. They snaked past the missiles without a single successful intercept.

Then the light charms vanished. The men in their flying machines knew it. The Wizards and Witches defending the anchorage were being ordered to douse them to try and avoid their strike detecting the fleet! But it was too late. They had already seen the dim black bulk of large ships mustered in the anchorage off Trondheim. They selected their targets with low voltage night vision bomb sights which could operate around the magical charms on the aeroplanes and blasted closer and closer as the anti-aircraft artillery continued to fire wildly, and futilely, into the sky. They commenced their final attack runs, and 'pickled' their bombs as they crossed over at high speed.

Each flight, sixteen Bucs in all, attached separately, with each one recording the damage as it passed over. Explosions erupted from damaged ships, what seemed to be pieces of superstructure crumbled and rose with massive flashing detonations into the sky. Several of the ships that were hit seemed to be merchants, but the men could clearly see the missile tubes and grey superstructures of some of the others. They reported back that they had sunk or heavily damaged one aircraft carrier, one battlecruiser, and four destroyers.

2 February, 2004

50 KM W of Stavanger, Norway.

Bella and Hermione could distantly see the island of Utsira to the north as the Admiral Kornilov turned east for the final approach to the Boknafjord and the safety of the defences established at Stavanger. There were still damaged aeroplanes on the deck, being repaired from yesterday's raid. The naval aviators claimed four frigates, though Bella had just sniffed and remarked that aviators always were wrong about how much damage they did.

There was both exhaustion and exhilaration in the air. They had done it, the Baltic Fleet had broken out of the Skagerrak. They had reached port in safety. The whole of two Russian fleets were now in communication along the coast of Norway, ready to act in concert against the homeland of the Morsmordre.

Bellatrix turned to go back inside. She was visibly tired in the cold, even after sleeping. "Well, we get to explore another city in Norway, right?" Hermione asked, feeling happier, and grinning to cheer her girlfriend up.

"Yes, that. For some reason our relationship seems to have a common theme in Norwegian towns."

"We weren't in a relationship at the time we visited Norway last, Bella," Hermione felt her cheeks flush, thankfully hidden from the way they were stung red with the cold lash of the wind.

"You know, it's hard to actually remember that. It seems like we were together at the time," Bella replied, before swinging open the hatch and stepping over the steel combing below.

It was a magical moment. It was the most ineffably normal couple thing that Hermione had ever gotten out of Bellatrix. A statement of simple and self-assured affection. There was a bit of a skip in her step as she dogged the hatch behind them, and they made their way to the chart room.

The Admiral was talking with some of his subordinates. "They attacked Trondheimsfjord last night, but they didn't press the attack. They sank some freighters, disguised as warships. It was very odd; they attacked late, and then turned away to the west. It would have been bad, but in fact the fleet had already turned to the southwest through the Trondheimsleia. They will leave a forward detachment at Ålesund, and then the main body will return to Trondheim. But, it's all really quite odd. They could have badly hurt us, if they were better coordinated, and pressed the attack."

Hermione glanced to Bella. The elder witch was smirking brilliantly.

The young witch's eyes narrowed. Narcissa's contact. He must be doing this.

She idly wondered what it was like to be a Slytherin whose plan was coming together.


1. Darya Maegorovna is a character of mine from another story. I occasionally use characters from other stories I write, for cameos.

2. Hedwig Jugson is an original character, but in general, Pureblood families are extremely small, and creating some extra members seems appropriate.

3. A hatch combing is a raised metal lip to keep sloshing water out when open, on a ship. A hatch is "dogged", which is the act of securing it (i.e., closing it).

4. The Great Slide is of course the Storegga Slide.