Chapter 35 - A Step Against Everything

"Incendio."

They had met up for a week and Anya found that Harry was a fast learner, especially when he had physical practice and even more so when he was highly motivated.

Unlike the first successful cast where there was simply a curving lance of fire, the Fire Serpent Spell that Harry cast now was unrecognisable from the root Incendio. Harry had even helped her learn the spell, not that she did so willingly but she appreciated the practice on manipulating spell components.

In fact, a part of her enjoyed it. The relaxing act of hanging out in a corner doing random things. Anya missed it, she had not done something like this in years. Spending time with Jen and Dimitri was fun, but nowadays it was under the pressure of an operation, working or training. The time she spent in the summer learning Fiendfyre with Jen and Dimitri did not have the youthful innocence compared to Harry.

"How was that?" Harry grinned. "I'd say I've gotten it nailed. Charms lessons probably got easier from this."

Anya looked at the scorch marks on the wall. They had drawn concentric circles on the wall as targets with chalk, all of Harry's Fire Serpent Spell hit within the inner circle.

"How about we take it up a notch?" Anya suggested.

"How?" Harry asked.

Anya stepped in between Harry and the wall, hands casually clasped behind her back. The target stood directly behind her.

"Do it now," Anya smirked.

"No, that's dangerous," Harry's smile fell. "I could hit you."

"You won't," Anya shook her head. "I trust you on this."

Harry blinked for a moment, staring at her. Then, he gathered his focus and aimed the wand at Anya.

"Incendio."

A lance of fire shot out from Harry's wand, surging towards Anya. Anya could see the lines of red twist and jump wildly, suddenly springing into different directions. The lance of fire split into three and weaved swiftly in the air. Just one metre away from her, the three lances snaked around her and above her, zigzagging in sharp turns. Anya felt the wave of heat pass by her, smothering the wall behind her as the spell found its mark within the chalk circles.

"If I was a Shield Charm, then you just rendered me useless," Anya declared.

"I did it," Harry said breathless. "Oh Merlin, don't make me do that again."

"I hate to spoil the mood, Harry," said Anya. "But if you're still intent on your crusade against Voldemort, then you'll be in situations you'd never want to face repeatedly."

Her words sobered Harry up, causing him to sigh.

"Yeah, you're right," Harry muttered.

"Come on," Anya walked over, clapping Harry on the shoulder. "You have Care for Magical Creatures and I have homework to do."

Harry's eyes flickered to his watch before begrudgingly picking up his bag and leaving the empty classroom. Anya kept her eyes on his hands, remembering the bloody injury that spelt 'I must not tell lies'.

She already noticed it when Harry had brought her to the kitchens. Putting the pieces together was easy but Anya knew that Harry reaped what he sowed, there was less harm in him learning to be prudent this way than in a life or death scenario. Still, the sight gnawed unpleasantly at her bones.

This time, the hand was thankfully unmarked, no trace of a recent wound. If it was due to Harry being prudent, good for him.

"Walk me to class?" Harry gave an awkward chuckle.

"Sure," Anya rolled her eyes, slinging her bag and following Harry.

It was an odd sight for a Gryffindor and a Slytherin to be walking side by side around Hogwarts. It does happen occasionally, Anya recalled seeing Charles Young and Clarissa Vance - a Slytherin-Gryffindor couple - doing the same a few days back.

"Harry, people are staring," Anya remarked.

"Do you care?" Harry raised an eyebrow.

"No."

"Then neither do I."

That was the thing, it was usually couples when students from these two houses walked together. Anya took the stares and finger-pointing in her stride, treating them as entertainment. However, she was not sure if Harry knew the same.

"Hey, Cho," Harry waved enthusiastically at the girl.

Anya nearly laughed when the Ravenclaw's look of happiness drained away the moment she saw her, only responding to Harry with a half-hearted wave and walking away sullenly.

"W-what did I do?" Harry frowned in confusion. "Did I do something wrong to her?"

"If you did, it wasn't intentional," Anya replied. "We're here by the way."

Anya bade Harry goodbye before turning around and making her way to the library, she needed to clear her homework today. However, something interrupted her on the way.

"Excuse me."

Anya turned to face the painting hanging on the wall. It was the portrait of an aging wizard.

"Yes?"

"The Headmaster requests your presence," the portrait declared. "He says the password is treacle toffee."

"Now?"

"You have a free period now? Do you not?" the portrait remarked snidely. "It's ill respect to tarry."

Anya nodded, changing her direction to a flight of stairs, climbing up towards the Headmaster's Tower. She reached the entrance where a stone gargoyle stood in her path.

"Treacle toffee."

The gargoyle made way for her, revealing a door. Opening the door and climbing up the steps, Anya stopped before what she could only assume to be the Headmaster's Office. As she knocked on the door, she felt her heart beating faster, her body was telling her that danger laid ahead.

"Come in," a voice called out.

She turned the knob and stepped inside. Her first impression was that the Headmaster's Office was eccentric. All the walls were filled with portraits of previous headmasters and headmistresses, every inch taken up by frame and canvas. Various silver instruments sat on spindly tables, Anya could see cords of silver and gold coiling around the object. Scrying and decrypting magic.

Dumbledore sat behind his desk, a weary look upon his visage. Interlocked fingers sat on the desk and sharp electric blue eyes tracked her every action. Anya made her way over and gave a nod.

"Good afternoon, Professor Dumbledore," she greeted.

"A very good afternoon to you too," Dumbledore gestured to the seat in front. "Please, take a seat. Would you prefer if I called you Ms Potter or Ms Seryy."

Anya complied, settling herself down and politely rejecting Dumbledore's offer of a sherbet lemon as she spoke.

"I would be more familiar with the latter."

"Ms Seryy it is," said Dumbledore. "Have you been well?"

"Yes, sir."

"You must be wondering why I called you here," said Dumbledore.

Anya kept quiet, giving a slight nod.

"I have realised that in the past few days, you have been spending a great deal of time with Mister Potter."

Anya found no reason to deny the truth and nodded. She was nonetheless curious how he knew.

"How do you know? I was unaware the headmaster himself pays that much attention to two students."

"Magic is quite a marvelous tool, Ms Seryy."

Anya had not seen any observation or scrying magic around her and Harry, that meant either the ghosts, portraits or a spell she had yet to recognise with her right eye or simply cast at a scope so wide it blended in with the background magic.

"Understood, sir. You were saying?"

"May I request that you cease spending time with Mister Potter?"

Anya mulled over his words. That was not what she was expecting. Then again, she did not know what to expect to begin with. Since when was it important who she spent time with?

Unless it was who Harry spent his time with that mattered.

"Might I request why?" Anya prodded.

"As you know, Lord Voldemort has returned," said Dumbledore. "Harry Potter, being the Boy-Who-Lived is in a uniquely dangerous position. Do forgive me in saying that you, being surrounded by many children of Death Eaters, might pose a threat to his well being."

"You mean to say I might be convinced to cause him harm under the pressure of my housemates?" Anya inquired.

"Peer pressure is stronger than one would expect," said Dumbledore. "And there is the possibility of Imperius Curses being used, an indoctrinated seventh year is more than capable."

Anya found plenty of faults in that logic, he simply wanted her away from Harry. The question was why?

If Dumbledore knew her to be a Spook, she should already be seeing strands of magic ready to bring up a spell in the event things got messy. Anybody who knew a Spook never allowed their guard down. That meant her occupation was still unknown to Dumbledore.

However, Dumbledore knew her identity, Dumbledore abandoned her in a cold winter to die.

Anya's mind clicked as she aligned the pieces to form one possibility. Dumbledore wanted them separate since birth, with Harry as the priority. That possibility opened up more questions.

"Harry's the one that comes to me, so I can't make any promises," Anya said evasively.

"Then might I request you tell him that you insist on not being together?"

Anya kept quiet, trying to come up with a solution, she could not care less about what Dumbledore wanted. She was neither obligated nor willing to agree to Dumbledore, but she did not want to come off as rebellious. The greater the distance she kept from the man in front of her, the better.

"Why don't you tell Harry then? He's the initiator to our meetings," Anya asked, finally thinking of something.

"I fear in these stressful times, he will be too stubborn to listen to me," said Dumbledore.

"Since you've known Harry longer than I, then you should already know that if he is too stubborn to listen to you, he is too stubborn to listen to me," Anya reasoned.

"Quite the contrary, Ms Seryy," Dumbledore countered. "He would always listen to you, which is exactly what makes you dangerous. I believe he would do anything for family, I hope you would do the right thing for your family."

"Dangerous?" Anya echoed questioningly.

"Be frank, Ms Seryy. How many people have you killed?"

"What do you mean?" Anya replied, but Dumbledore ignored the false front.

"Your presence is a threat to my students," Dumbledore stated, a cold glint in his eye.

"I am one of your students," Anya stated.

"Your presence in Britain is a danger to yourself, and as one of my students I am advising that you leave for your own safety. Voldemort has returned and a war is approaching, I do not wish for you to be caught in the crossfire," said Dumbledore, the menacing aura dissipating. "There are many other magical academies as prestigious and insightful as Hogwarts, I'm willing to write a letter of recommendation for your transfer."

Anya stared. She was an obvious threat in Dumbledore's eyes and yet the man was not planning on eliminating her, only throwing her somewhere where he could not see her. Dumbledore was not taking action. Sirius had either twisted his hand or guilt was holding the aged wizard back from acting.

"Sir," said Anya. "I believe we are at an impasse. I am not willing to do anything and yet it seems you are the same. We are not going anywhere."

It was a poor choice to prod an opponent into action, but Anya weighed the risks and she wanted to leave as soon as possible.

"True," Dumbledore nodded. "It is troublesome times like these where the objectives of my tasks conflict with my morality."

Anya resisted the urge to grab her wand, because for her, objectives always came first; Dumbledore might have the same mindset. For another minute, the two sat in silence.

"You may go, Ms Seryy," Dumbledore sighed, gesturing at the door. "Every word spoken within these walls stays within these walls, can we agree to that? And please, do consider my offer for transferring you out."

Anya nodded, gladly accepting the opportunity to leave. She left for the door and made her way hastily now the Headmaster's Tower, back down to the dungeons.

She spent the rest of the time finishing her homework and going for the one lesson - Runes - before the end of the day. Giving Astoria the excuse of homework, Anya was left alone for the day where she headed to the Owlery to pick up a letter from Dimitri. Heading back to the common room, she allowed time to simply flow by.

Sitting on the sofa in front of the fireplace, Anya brushed her thumb over the letter in her hands. Her eyes jumped from the letter to the clock in the common room. The ticking of the clock seized the limelight of the silent room, ringing in Anya's ears. It was a Thursday and a soft ding announced that it was one in the morning, even the seventh years who frequently broke the curfew had gone to bed, none daring to test Professor Snape.

Anya stood up and left the common, casting concealment spells upon herself. She made her way through the corridors and onto the grounds. Looking at the sky above her, the wards of Hogwarts formed the tightest and thickness mesh of cords she had seen. There was no going through them, which was why the secret passages of Hogwarts were so important to many crafty students.

Making her way to the Whomping Willow, Anya activated the knot that froze the tree before slipping down into the passageway that led to the Shrieking Shack. From there, she reached Hogsmeade, far from the wards of Hogwarts. Taking out a runic disc from her jacket, she activated it with a mental nudge, watching the bland lines of magic seep out, masking any underage magic she would cast.

She checked her watch, quickly taking out the circular, pocket watch-like object she had used over the summer to detect disruption in the National Ward Grid. A magic spectrometer. The many hands were spinning under the preset calibration, the scheduled disruption caused by the Russian operatives was in play.

Based on the schedule, she had a minute to cast a Portkey Charm undetected before having to wait for another twenty minutes. Stowing the spectrometer, Anya took out a knut and pointed her wand.

"Portus."

She reappeared in a suburbia. Closing her left eye, she peeked out from the garden shed she appeared in. When her surroundings proved satisfactory, she stepped out and made her way down the night street.

Drawing out her wand, she slashed at the empty air and watched as ripples of magic reverberated from an unseen barrier. Stepping through a ward threshold, Anya winced as the pressure of the wards rushed through her for seconds before accepting her. She walked up to the house before her and entered, opening the unlocked door.

"Anya!" a teenage boy waved at her with a grin. "It's been too long since I last saw you."

Leaping off the stairway banister he was perched on, the boy rushed towards her. Anya opened her obligingly to receive the hug, ruffling the boy's hair.

"They sent this rascal here to Britain?" Anya jibed, releasing her hold on the boy. "You've grown up a bit."

Anya gave the boy a closer inspection, there were a few good inches added on the body, though Anya was still a head higher. Anya was surprised, with the boy's early malnutrition, she did not expect him to grow any further. The boy still had a slight gaunt look but he looked much healthier than before, though his black hair was already greying.

"A bit?" the boy sniffed, giving her an affronted looked. "Give me a few years and I'll be towering over you."

"You brought Mishka here too?" Anya raised an eyebrow at the familiar large brown kneazle dancing around her legs, purring as it rubbed against her shins. "Mikhail, how long are you going to be stationed here?"

"My entire team is attached here until… well, until Nathaniel says otherwise," the boy, Mikhail, stated, leaning over to pick up the kneazle in his arms. The kneazle mewled contently as it snuggled into Mikhail's arms. "We're moving out in a while, my team's the advance party."

Anya looked past Mikhail and saw other teenagers, all of them were dressed in their operations garb and giving their equipment a final check. They gave Anya a glare and carried on, heading out to the door Anya just entered from. Anya could not fault them. It was already a privilege to be taken under Nathaniel's wing. More importantly, she, Jen and Dimitri had a reputation, not a pleasant one.

"I didn't think I'd get a chance to work with Greyhound's Demons," Mikhail continued, speaking with admiration.

"Never liked the nickname," Anya muttered. "Nothing special about it."

"Nonsense," Mikhail said dismissively. "We don't even know about all the operations you, Jen and Dimitri get up to. I'm sure there are many dying to hear any stories they could from you. To be part of it, no regrets."

"Mikhail! Move!"

"That's my cue, the others are in the dining room," said Mikhail, setting the kneazle down before hauling a backpack over his shoulders and running for the door. "See you soon!"

Anya waved goodbye, watching her junior exit the room, the boy had grown a long way from being a child crying in the mist of phosgene gas in the Butcher's dungeon to being a Spook. Anya continued on and reached the dining room. At the centre lay a large table, all the chairs were flushed to the walls. Various people were gathered around and Anya could immediately pick out the familiar faces of Jen and Dimitri.

"Anya," Aleks' crisp English reached Anya's ears. She knew the man preferred Russia but he adhered to the lingua franca of the Spooks. "Get over here."

Despite his words, Aleks himself walked towards Anya. Many cleared a path and stood at attention before Grey's personal adjutant - a man who pulled as many administrative strings as Nathaniel conducted operations - with the utmost respect. A glance at Dimitri biting his lower lip and Anya knew that the three of them found this too amusing.

To them, who had lived with Aleks when Nippy raised them, Aleks was not even like an uncle. He was the older cousin who scolded them for leaving a mess and brought home take-away dinners when he felt like it. Stoking his ire was also an old childhood pastime for all of them.

"Your instructions," Aleks handed a folder to her, Anya accepted it without question. "One of the two stooges will brief you on the rest. Everyone's moving out in five minutes."

"I have your gear," Jen tapped Anya's shoulders, leading her to another room. Dimitri joined them and plucked the folder from Anya's hands, opening it and showing her the contents.

"I'll get down to it," said Dimitri. "There have been many movements of funds and items around the underground of Wizarding Britain."

Anya nodded, recalling Jen and Dimitri doing weeks of tracking and reconnaissance over the summer after they discovered trucks moving concealed objects across the country. She had joined in some of them too.

"The target is a fortified compound off the coast of Kent," Dimitri pointed at a map attached to the folder. "The objective is to sweep the entire location for information, a trail is starting to show and we need to find out who's providing what to who."

"The compound is isolated," said Dimitri. "Recce shows possible patrols around the building, no visual confirmation, likely under an invisibility cloak or a Disillusionment Charm."

"Aleks says we have two slow moving groups and one airborne, fast moving group," Dimitri pointed out the area outside the walls of the building. "Wards distorted their magic emissions so we can't confirm what spells or magical equipment they have. Assumption is two groups of prowlers on foot and one on broomsticks. Assume both to be using a combination of magic and Muggle equipment, possibly Spook-grade. Another assumption is sentries placed on strategic locations."

"Wards are tight," Dimitri continued. "Caterwauling Charm is in place, along with a Magic Sensory Charm. Assume they have Sneakoscopes in place as well, another team will be handling that. We have the standard Triple Protego Layer, cumbersome but that one is simple enough. Reactive wards, also simple. AMT wards, simple."

Anti-Magical Transport, short for AMT, was a usual catch-all phrase for Anti-Disapparition and Anti-Portkey.

"You sure are cocky today," Anya raised an eyebrow, grabbing the folder back and reading through. "Are we infiltrating or assaulting? Because with the equipment we are using based on this, I think we're-"

"Yes, assaulting. Our mole got ratted out and they're on high alert, which means we need to act fast and hard," Jen chimed in. "That's why you got activated in short notice."

"Then how is a Triple Protego and Reactive Wards simple?" Anya asked. "We aren't even accounting the sentries and the fact that the Reactive Wards are likely linked to an Intruder Charm. There isn't enough men and support for a siege and all assaults need speed and surprise."

"Quite simple," Dimitri drawled. "We do have support. One CIRCE operations section is on hand and there's no enemy CIRCE elements contesting the area, that means green air."

"No enemy CIRCE elements?" Anya asked in surprise. Nothing attracted a CIRCE element better than the presence of another of its kind, it was a positive feedback loop. "Wait, that means-"

"That's right," Jen cut her off with a nod.

"Another team will act as pathfinders, bunch of kids younger than us," said Dimitri. "Younger people emit less magic, they wouldn't be able to be detected so easily. They'll provide us a good position.

Once enemy sensory is down and everyone is in place, assault team apparates in sync with fire support. We'll take an overwatch position over here, so we're the fire team. You're acting sniper, siege wizard will be yours truly and sensory will be Jen."

"A standard operations section with attached pathfinders?" Anya did a headcount. "Assault team, fire team and a support team. Who's commanding?"

"Aleks."

As they talked, Anya had donned her operations garb. She enjoyed the feeling of it, bringing an odd sense of comfort. Every piece of it was improved by either runes or spells. She had tried on a Russian Auror's combat robes before and she would proudly say that the equipment issued to Spooks were miles better, the Russian Aurors adopted some of it as a testament to its effectiveness.

Pants, shirt and jacket. All had protective enchantments and runes were embedded in the fabric. The material was enough to stop any rifle bullet not enhanced by magic, a lining of kevlar reinforced with Strengthening Charms would reduce the damage from a hole in a body to a mere bruise. Sandwiching the kevlar were linings of Gore-tex, a Muggle synthetic fabric that was a substitute to the Impervious Charm for wet and windy weather - something that Anya loved to the point she slacked off on Impervious Charms in the past.

The lightweight ballistic vest, like the clothing, was quite plastic in nature. Layers of composite polyethylene fibres and foam were enhanced by runes sewn into the bulletproof fabric. The innermost layer of the vest was made of dragonhide as the final protection in the event of a nasty curse. Anya smirked at an old memory of Dimitri questioning their equipment.

Just one layer of dragon hide and the rest is plastic with charms and runes? Why even? Why not replace plastic with other magical materials? And for the runes, anything would be a better medium than plastic, plastic is so magically unreactive. Metal, metal would be good. Aleks, I should be the one designing these things.

Shut up, everything's there for a reason.

Enlighten us then.

Fine. It's cheap, you can repair it with the simplest of spells and unlike magical materials you wouldn't cause magical interference when enhancing it. Most importantly, it's magically unreactive.

What!? That's a bad thing, runes need a good medium to work at the fullest potential.

That's what you call an opportunity cost.

Then what benefit do you get?

There was an experiment Grey conducted in the 70s when he was searching for a new material to use in Spook garbs. He found out that while magical emissions passed through cloth unhindered, charged up metals and seeped through stone, certain plastics partially block magical emissions.

So?

Dimitri, were you even listening to our concealment lessons?

Of course I did- oh.

In operations where concealing oneself from enemy detection was vital, it was as important to hide one's magical presence as it was to hide one's physical presence. In such cases, plastic was king.

"And lastly, code word for retreat and cancellation of the mission is heavy shovel." Jen finished the last of the briefing. "All that's left now is to wait for the pathfinders to secure us a good location and inform us the coordinates."

"It's been a long time since I've heard fire support," said Anya. "Can't say I've missed it."

"Always keeps you on your toes, doesn't it," said Dimitri, passing Jen and Anya a bottle of butterbeer. "Drink up, I think we've got some time before the show starts.

XXXXX

"Why are we here again?"

Vergilius cocked an eyebrow at the question, in the time he had spent with Pyotr he knew the large Russian possessed an intellect to challenge the brawn over brain stereotype. However, there were times the man was just simple. Maybe it was an act, Vergilius would give the man full credit if it was.

"Pyotr asked a good question," another man grunted. "Why are we here? The tensions are high and the situation in Petrograd is... delicate. We are the head of change, we cannot afford to be here wasting time."

"Vasil, give August his due credit," the monocled man spoke. "He has never wasted our time. The thing that truly brings me consternation is the choice of people he brought here. Where is the outspoken Gregor and the passionate Niko? Aren't they vital parts of our movement? Why aren't they invited?"

Vergilius grinned, the leader of the firebrands earned his position. The man was very sharp, another reason he staked everything in this group. Pervoprokhodtsy Volshebnoy Rossii, shortened to Pervoro, they called themselves the forerunners of a new era for Wizarding Russia. Vergilius knew he could push them to be just that but for the Wizarding World.

"Astute as always," Vergilius nodded. "Every person here was invited because everyone here has an important quality I appreciate. Discreteness."

"So you don't trust the others?" one of the men asked.

"Partially correct, I don't trust them to unknowingly slip secrets to others. They will try to guard secrets with their lives, there is no doubt. But through carelessness, pride or alcohol their tongues might grow loose."

"Astute as always," Pyotr laughed. "Come, show us what you've prepared. I, for one, have grown very curious."

Vergilius nodded and walked down the snow-laden dirt track. They had all apparated to the countryside, far from prying eyes. Vergilius used every trick in his exceedly comprehensive book to ensure this meeting stayed a secret. For an agent of Europe's finest Unspeakables, disappearing from Russia's National Ward Grid was easy.

"How is Petrograd?" Vergilius asked. It was a rhetorical question, but his style of waiting for rhetorical questions to be answered had grown famous among the Pervoro.

"The protests are in full swing for the dissolution of The Seven," someone answered. "Major installations are being flooded with protesters and the Floo lines are overwhelmed by furniture thrown into fireplaces."

"What has been The Seven's reaction?" Vergilius asked. The Seven was a council of seven noble wizards chosen among the nobility to run Wizarding Russia.

"Hit Wizards are being deployed to the streets and Aurors have been picking out instigators to apprehend. The DMLE are preparing for civil war, they have started purging their ranks. Lines are very quickly drawn."

"War will come?" Vergilius asked.

"War will come," Pyotr answered. "The other countries have begun sending emissaries. Your prediction when we first met seems to be coming true, all of Wizarding World will bare their fangs against us."

"That is why I invited all of you," Vergilius stopped, they have reached the peak of the hill and the great snowy lands lay before their eyes. "To propose how we fight this war."

"Judging by the people you invited," the monocled man spoke. "You intend to wage a secret war."

"Close," Vergilius nodded. "I intend to change the wizarding art of war."

"And this change must be secret, a hidden trump card against our foe," Pyotr concluded. "You are proposing a secret army?"

"In essence, yes," Vergilius drew his wand

"I have a vision. On how a magical society can reach new heights. Infrastructure, industry and innovation, they could all be changed. The National Ward Grid is something yearning to be improved, the number of ways to employ magic waiting to be multiplied and the mindset of people ripe for change, this is one way to change."

"How so?" someone asked.

"Tell me, why can't we create a countrywide Protean Charm system for instant communication, reducing the reliance on owls which can be easily intercepted and why can't we merge the spell sequence of a Blasting Curse and a Engorgement Charm to strengthen the spells of weak yet skilled wizards."

"You can't simply mash spells together," someone yelled. "Magic is a delicate art that must be harmonious to work. And the Protean Charm requires many skilled wizards and power to create, there aren't enough wizards to make a countrywide system."

"Magic has limitations," Vergilius nodded. "But we forget man and magic are two different things and can create vastly different results. The Wizarding World has pushed forward what magic could do and create, but we never pushed forward what man could do and create."

"And you are proposing we do that?" the monocled man asked.

"Someone already did," Vergilius replied, jabbing his wand at thin air, revealing a truly unfamiliar sight to the other wizards. "We so often forget there are two worlds, Wizarding and Muggle."

"What are these devices?" the monocled man asked, accepting the omnioculars that Vergilius was passing everyone.

"A demonstration on what combining Muggle and magic could do to the traditional wizarding warfare," Vergilius answered. "This is a three inch Stokes mortar, with a range of seven hundred yards. Seven hundred yards north, stands a hut which will be our target."

Two men knelt by the mortar, waiting for instructions. Vergilius gave them a nod and they picked out a mortar bomb and dropped it onto the mortar, a loud thump of it firing gave the wizards a jump. Moments passed and there was silence.

"That's it?" a derisive voice called out.

Vergilius chose to wait for the loud blast in the distance to do the talking. This time, the explosion in the distant plains did not shock the wizards, the bomb landed several meters away from the hut. Although far from the target, everyone could see the holes that peppered the hut due to shrapnel, everyone understood what a direct hit could have done. He looked at the others, some were skeptical, some impressed and most simply curious.

"An interesting concept, it's not too accurate but I assume quantity is the key here," the monocled man said. "Replacing a Blasting Curse volley delivered by offensive Apparition with a Muggle weapon utilised from a safe distance."

"This Muggle version of a Blasting Curse is acceptable," Pyotr declared, drawing his wand. "But it lacks the speed and power an Auror could deliver. Confringo!"

The jet of fiery orange lanced swiftly through the air, plowing the earth in a large fiery explosion. Several other wizards clapped in appreciation of a well-cast spell.

"Seven hundred yards is impressive, without doubt, it compares to the siege spells in range and power," said Pyotr. "But in a battle, you simply need to break a detachment to apparate to these Stokes to destroy them, they are loud. This means a team will need to defend these, not the most efficient use of manpower."

"True," Vergilius agreed. "But these are Muggle tools on their own, now allow me to demonstrate a mortar enhanced by magic."

A flourish of his wand conjured a map, despite it being a wizarding map with keen attention towards ley lines and Floo points as was the case in wizarding maps geared towards Auror usage, it had a distinct Muggle trait of being separated evenly into grids.

"This is where we are," Vergilius pointed. "The next target will be a hut here, over this hill. Once the mortar fires, we'll apparate to the top of the hill for a vantage point."

A nod to the men by the mortar and they sprang to action. They moved to another mortar, this one was heavily modified with runes carved around the tube, the elevation and transverse mechanism that adjusted the aim had many peculiar dials and a compass attached to it. Once more, they picked out a mortar bomb, it too had runes carved around it.

The moment the bomb left the mortar, Vergilius disapparated to the top of the mentioned hill. Similar cracks of the Pervoro wizards echoed around him as they all stood on the hilltop waiting, looking at a distant hut. This time, rather than a small explosion that could be delivered by a standard light mortar, the hut vanished in a violent eruption of blue fire and smoke.

The explosion came like a thunderclap, the shockwaves felt even from the hill where they stood. While the Muggle version might have brought the hut down with a direct hit, this version tore the hut and the surrounding land into chucks. The omnioculars that the wizards wielded allow them to replay and slow the sight, there was no dispute of a direct hit. It was pinpoint accurate.

"Over the hill?" someone gasped. "To over there? That must be more than a mile, maybe a mile and a half."

The monocled man laughed. "I've said it once and I'll say it again, you never cease to amaze me August. A foe would never see nor hear this Stoke until it lands on them. I would like to see how you plan on implementing this."

XXXXX

"Everyone, standby," Jen muttered softly.

Anya shifted slightly, moving her finger to the trigger of her Dragunov. The elevated position of the tree branches gave them a good view of the compound. Mikhail and the other pathfinders had carved runes on the various trees surrounding them to conceal their presence.

"Expect impact in three, two, one."

On cue, the air around the compound exploded. Anya saw the mesh of lines that made up the wards dissolve and flicker into the surroundings as latent magic. A second later and two more explosions followed, two outside the compound and an airburst above it, the magically derived locations of the possible patrols.

"Crow," Aleks' voice crackled into her headset. "Give me information."

"Main wards down, AMT wards still up," Anya reported, sieving out the important lines in her vision. "High latent magic in Amsterdam's surroundings."

"Hit the door, on my dispel," Aleks ordered.

A bright flash appeared in the distance, dispelling the AMT wards. The flash evolved into a yellow fireball, casting in environments with high latent magic always had side effects.

Following Aleks' instructions, Anya took aim and fired, her target being the compound door. Three figures apparated next to the door, they were hidden under the shroud of a Disillusionment Charm but Anya could see their magic, it was the assault team. Her bullet hit the door moments later, sending showers of sparks in the air.

"Spark colours, light green, dark purple," Anya spoke into her headset.

Charmed to react to various magic, the bullet Anya fired was a cheap and easy method to discern the nature of the wards from a distance. With all the background magic now clogging her vision, using the bullet on something as small as a door was preferred.

"Light green, dark purple, confirmed," a gruff voice replied. "Low strength, high tension wards. Osman, clear wards."

"Clearing," another voice came up as background chatter.

As one of the three men at the door moved closer to the door with his wand drawn, Anya could see reddish lines of Anti-Disapparition and Anti-Portkey wards coming up around the compound, likely from Aleks. It was a standard ground superiority tactic, tear down the enemy AMT wards to position your own men favourably, then set up your own AMT wards to prevent the enemy from escaping or repositioning. The next step would be preventing the enemy from copying the same tactic.

A jet of orange flew from outside the compound towards Aleks' location, a Blasting Curse. Apparently not all the patrols were eliminated from the mortar strike. Bolts of tracers erupted from the compound, towards the blast of the curse.

"At least two sentries in the compound facing my location, armed with at least an automatic rifle," Aleks announced through the headset, the sounds of bullets colliding a Shield Charm buzzing in the background. "Expect the same from other directions."

A burst of green flash erupted from the compound door and the door fell down, blown from its hinges. The gruff voice sounded out. "Door open. Scourge Three, check courtyard."

Scourge Three, that was the callsign given to Anya's team for the operation. From her position, Anya could see beyond the wall. It was a small courtyard and already she could see two figures taking up positions behind cover.

"No traps, Muggle or magical. Eyes on two hostiles, clear for fire?"

"Clear."

Anya took the first shot, her aim true as one of the men toppled backwards, a spurt of blood coming from the neck. She swung her aim and fired the second shot, both targets fell.

"Both hostiles down," said Anya.

Upon those words, the courtyard was smothered in a bright flash and the three men breached the compound, immediately checking Anya's blind spots for any potential enemies. The lack of action meant it was clear as the three men formed up against the wall, heading swiftly to the closest door and beginning the clearing of the compound.

"Jen, waiting on you," said Dimitri with a hint of impatience. "I want coordinates."

"Give me a moment," Jen replied, his eyes looking through a pair of omnioculars and he drew and manipulated floating numbers with his wand. "Alright, got it."

With a final glance at the numbers he had conjured, Jen turned to face Dimitri who pointed his wand.

"Legilimens."

Dimitri stared into Jen's eyes for seconds before breaking the connection. Turning around to face the compound, Dimitri raised his wand and began a long incantation, the incantation ending when Dimitri swiped his wand down. Blue light flickered in various locations of the compound, extinguishing for seconds before re-emerging as a raging inferno. The blue inferno died off just as fast, leaving a soft blue glow emitting from the windows of the compound. The tracers that had been firing from the compound died off as well.

"Scourge Three to all," Dimitri announced. "Sentries should be eliminated or suppressed. Scourge One, you should be clear to proceed."

Anya could see another team heading for the compound, hidden like the assault team under concealment spells. Her team's job was mostly done, they provided long range firepower and any room to room fighting was down to the assault team. They only needed to secure the area from possible third parties. Judging from the way their opponents defended, they were not facing Spooks like them, which removed a huge weight from Anya's shoulders.

"That's my part done," Dimitri stretched. "Pulling out a siege spell like that is a pain."

He leaned against the branch and made himself comfortable, taking out a stick of cigarette.

"Job's not done Dim," Jen rolled his eyes. "Just because there's friendly CIRCE elements securing the place doesn't mean it's safe."

"You're sensory," Dimitri pointed at Jen before turning his finger to Anya. "You're the girl with ungodly vision."

Finally, he pointed at himself. "I'm just the brute that flings hard spells. So, I'm not needed, let me know otherwise."

"You could at least not light a cigarette," Anya muttered.

She knew Dimitri was right, their job was as good as over. Over at the compound, she could see flashes of spells being cast, the chatter in her headset was incessant. For her, she simply had to wait and keep an eye out.

"When do you need to be back by?" Jen asked beside her, watching the various dials levitating in front of him.

"The latest? Before the first lesson. Preferably? Before breakfast."

"This year's going to be rough on you, huh?"

"Definitely."

It turned out that Dimitri was correct, there was nothing much for them left to do. Anya knew they would not get the chance to inspect any evidence first-hand like some of their other missions, they had to watch over the area. When the signal was given for them to leave, it was already four o'clock.

Thankfully, Aleks was in charge and he knew of Anya's circumstances, giving her a short special debrief back in the suburban safehouse before the other. He promptly shooed Anya away after the debrief and with a portkey in hand, returning Anya to Hogsmeade. She entered Hogwarts the way she left and after dodging the patrolling prefects and Mr Filch she found her way back to the common room and her dorm. By then, it was long past five o'clock. Changing to her nightwear and settling herself onto her soft bed, Anya closed her eyes and fell asleep.

Her alarm rang shortly after an hour. Anya grimaced as she pulled herself out of bed, pouring herself a glass of water. She glanced at her schedule, Herbology and Potions, lessons where it was physically dangerous to not be in total concentration. Getting bitten by a Fanged Geranium or burned by an exploding cauldron would not be amusing. Cursing under breath, Anya reached into her trunk and grabbed a vial of orange liquid.

At least, there's a legitimate reason.

Screw off, that's what you tell yourself.

Anya pulled the cork open and poured the potion down her throat, her body shuddering involuntarily as she instinctively savoured the chilling sensation of fresh energy. She stowed the empty vial back where it came from and let out a long, slow sigh.

This year would not be easy.