So, now the real mess has started, it's up to poor Jane to start cleaning. Or maybe she'd get help from an unexpected person? Read to find out!
Jane POV
Fudge ignoring that Voldemort had returned, that was something she could understand. If anything, Voldemort knew how to instil fear. Fudge was a human first, and logically, he should be scared. But the way things had played, by accusing Dumbledore of political motive, by accusing Harry of murder-
"Miss Davidson?", a Healer interrupted her thoughts. She stared back at the woman. "I'm Healer Tonks. How are you feeling today?"
Fudge ought to have known better, she thought morosely. Did he seriously think she didn't know all Henry's colleagues? As such, she knew Healer Tonks was, in fact, a mind Healer. She was already dreading the next part of the conversation.
"Fine," she replied, her diplomatic training helping her to keep her mask solidly in place.
The woman smiled slightly, closing the door behind her. "Somehow, I don't believe that's the truth, is it?"
She stared at the woman, as anger overtook her common sense. "You can tell Fudge I'm ready to talk about that night, when he releases an innocent, traumatised fourteen year old!"
"I wholeheartedly agree," the woman replied smoothly.
Jane stared at her suspiciously. The woman chuckled. "Not a trusting person, eh?"
She snorted. "I'm a politician. The friends of today are tomorrow's enemies, dancing on my grave."
Healer Tonks raised an eyebrow. "Such a cynical outlook on life, as well."
Jane shrugged, and looked out of the charmed window.
"I'm here on professor Dumbledore's behalf," she continued, and Jane's eyes snapped back to the woman. Before her eyes, the woman started to morph, suddenly appearing much younger. And with solid, chewing gum pink hair. "Nymphadora Tonks - although I go by Tonks."
Jane eyed her with possibly even more suspicion. Even worse, miss Tonks was an Auror. She was the daughter of Healer Tonks, and cousin to someone Jane hated with more passion than she'd ever thought herself capable of: Bellatrix Lestrange.
"He needs to know what happened."
Jane closed her eyes, staring out of the window again. Honestly, ever since she'd woken, she'd been expecting the question. Not from Henry, who'd left her to relay some messages to her sister, but from official instances - such as the Auror corps. That didn't make talking about it any easier. Not telling the truth didn't even cross her mind, but she did worry whether Fudge would have her admitted to the Spell-damage ward of this very hospital…
But the question at hand was: did she want to tell Dumbledore? And while the answer was 'no', in terms of her really wanting to do something (or rather not wanting to do something), the truth was she might not have as much of a choice. She was still an outsider, coming from abroad, having a political position. Sure, she could play the political field; but how about preparing for a real war, one that was bound to come? Not to mention… She could use some of the intelligence Dumbledore undoubtedly was collecting.
"It all started after we'd touched that blasted Tri-Wizard cup…", she started. She continued how they'd been Portkeyed to a Graveyard, how she'd been knocked out, how horrified she'd been when she realised Cedric was dead, Voldemort had risen again and she and Harry had been defenceless. She talked about the duel - if it was worthy of the name - about their narrow escape. How she realised it had been an inside job, that Moody was the only new addition. How she'd panicked when realising Harry was with him, went after them, got caught. She ended with how Harry had managed to escape, how she got injured and how the Aurors came to their rescue.
To Tonks' credit, she only flinched at Voldemort's name. She gave no outward reaction to what Jane was telling her, although it was likely the most gruesome tale she'd been told. Now she thought about it, Jane thanked her lucky stars they got out alive - for that was the only reason they were alive, luck. She stared at the soft cotton of the sheet covering her. She felt rather tired; Henry had sat with her for a good three hours, and telling this story had taken another hour and a half. She'd only just woken.
"Thank you," the woman said softly, squeezing her hand. Clearing her throat, she asked: "Is there anything I can do for you?"
Jane continued to stare at the sheets, then looked up. "What happened out there? Henry wouldn't tell all of it…"
If Tonks thought it strange she hadn't called him 'Dad' or the like, she didn't show it. But her slip of tongue was likely noted all the same. "There's… Things I can tell you, and things I can't, okay?"
Jane nodded.
"After you returned… Harry was taken to Hogwarts, you were rushed here. My mother used to be a Healer in the Emergency department when the war was at large, and since she was the only one with such experience in the hospital at that moment, she took the lead. She patched you up as best as she could. Not long had passed, before Dumbledore came for an update. Harry had been taken to Hogwarts and was treated there." Tonks paused briefly, collecting her thoughts, before continuing. "None of us had a chance to ask him something, not even Dumbledore. Poppy Pomphrey drugged him upon arrival, as he'd sustained some injuries - likely, when you Portkeyed, he landed badly on a rock, causing internal bleeding. The Apparation, the torture… Didn't help, and he was bleeding out fast… Anyway, Fudge came, and he refused to believe what the French Aurors told him, although Dumbledore backed them up. He seems insistent on continuing his peaceful life."
Jane snorted.
"After a week, they woke Harry up. They'd brought him to his guardians, since he was insistent on it… No one knows what happened, but he showed up here, went in, said something to you - or did something - and suddenly, you were vastly improving. The Aurors came and took him... The full accusation is: manslaughter, involuntarily so. They… They brought him to Azkaban."
Jane closed her eyes, feeling awful. She could just imagine it: Harry, feeling responsible for how she was. Harry decided to come visit her, because he thought it was his fault she was here. Harry, being arrested and carted off to Azkaban - because of her -
"Can you give Dumbledore a message?", she asked, opening her eyes. "I want in on your secret organisation."
Tonks blinked, before her mask slid back into place. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Jane snorted again. "Am I supposed to believe Albus Dumbledore calmly stands aside while Voldemort takes over? Let me tell you, I don't believe shit of it. So, you can tell your leader of your clandestine, non-existing organisation that I'd like to meet him. Got that?"
Tonks frowned. "If such an organisation were to exist, I would alert their leader - should I have his identity - to your request. And now, I must go - mother has to leave you, otherwise, someone might become suspicious."
Jane nodded. As Tonks left, she thought: two plans set in motion. Hopefully, they'll work out.
Lara POV, that same afternoon
Jane couldn't know it, of course, but at the same moment she thought that, one of her plans turned out very well.
"Prime Minister Fudge," Lara said smiling broadly, "how nice to see you! It appears, my invitation got lost in the mail - or perhaps the owl got lost in the non-existing storm - but by a lucky coincidence, I'm here anyways." Subtlety had never been her strong suit, and now Fudge had had the audacity to not only attack Harry, but also Jane. Well, what she could do for Harry was very limited, but Jane, that was an entirely different story.
"Ah… Yes… Well, your presence is not really required-", he stammered, flustered.
Lara raised an eyebrow. "Surely, Prime Minister, you are aware my sister has the right to defend herself?"
"Surely, you must have misunderstood," someone said sweetly. Lara cringed at the tone used - overly sickly sweet, making her want to punch something. Right next to Fudge sat a woman, reminding her of a toad, in such fluffy pink clothes that Lara wanted to cover her eyes instantly. "There is a separation between Law and Justice; and Politics."
"Says the undersecretary of the Prime Minister about to head a jury in a hearing," she shot back. "I'm merely here as a spectator, and the one responsible for getting a lawyer here." The unspoken as you should have done rang loudly through the room.
"Let us start," madame Bones, head of DMLE, said, "by offering an apology, madame Ambassador. It seems an unfortunate clerical error has been made, regarding your sister, for which you have our sincerest apologies."
Lara resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Error, sure thing, but nodded her head in acknowledgement nonetheless.
"Let us start," Fudge called, still clearly annoyed. "The accused-"
"Objection!", Peter, the family attorney, called. Lara hid a smile: being interrupted after uttering two words must be some kind of record. "My client has not formally been accused of anything. If so, I would like more time to prepare this session."
Fudge gaped, turned an interesting shade of red, struggled to find a somewhat decent reply. "Apologies. Allow me to start over… This session concerns miss Davidson, current ambassador for Magical France, now replaced-"
"Temporarily replaced," Peter interrupted.
Fudge looked as if someone had done him great injustice. "Well, perhaps …"
"Careful with what you say next, prime minister," Lara interrupted frostily. "One could perceive it as a foreign nation trying to influence our political field."
Fudge flinched. "At any rate, miss Davidson… Has woken up at last." He waited, perhaps expecting another interruption. On the second row, an elderly lady rose.
"May I express my gratitude that the young lady is in better condition," she stated formally.
Lara caught her eye, and nodded once. She had no idea who the lady was - perhaps her name was Marshbanks? - and once again, she felt overwhelmed. She had no real diplomatic talent or political interest, hence why she, initially, had refused the position. Which was the reason Jane was ambassador. The past month, her respect for her two years younger sister had grown tenfold. How she combined schooling with this political nonsense, without bashing someone's head in, was beyond her. One hour into her first meeting with Fudge, on the first day she'd taken over, and she'd already wanted to hit him around the head. Or put him in the naughty corner, since he insisted on behaving like an overgrown child.
But it had to be done. Especially with Voldemort back, it was important her sister had access to high political intel, to stay ahead of Voldemort. And when Fudge had accused Harry, she'd done her best to have him released - to no avail. It had become rapidly clear that he'd try something similar with Jane.
"Yes, yes… Of course," Fudge said, trying to appear emphatic. It wasn't one of his better performances. "Now, miss Davidson has been interviewed by a Healer and an Auror, regarding the events on the evening of the last Triwizard Task. Auror Dawlish, could you enlighten us?"
An unknown man stepped out of the shadows, where Lara hadn't noticed him before now. "Of course, Prime Minister. Miss Davidson claims the Cup had been a Portkey, bringing them to a Graveyard. She stumbled and saw mister Diggory die at the hands of someone she recognised as Peter Pettigrew." He ignored the murmurs. "As she had hit her head, she passed out, regaining her senses when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was reborn." Again, he ignored the gasps. "Potter dueled with him, before narrowly escaping. She then realised there must be an inside man at Hogwarts, realised it had to be Alastor Moody, rushed to his chambers at Hogwarts. There she found evidence of his location, and alerted French authorities to this. She proceeded to go there alone, without waiting for back-up, and attempted a rescue. She failed and was later rescued by Dumbledore and the French Aurors assigned to protect her."
The only lie Jane had told, Lara noted, was how she'd found Harry. But it was a minor thing. She sighed imperceptibly, hoping Jane had been wrong about Fudge's next move.
No such luck.
"Miss Dawlish, you are a licensed Mind Healer from St. Mungo's. Is it, in your professional opinion, possible that miss Davidson has hallucinated the whole thing?"
A woman stepped forward. She looked frail, and young, emphasised by the ponytail and pink dress robes she wore. "Yes, Prime Minister, that is possible." Her eyes remained glued to the floor.
Lara sighed loudly. She really had hoped it wouldn't come this far.
Fudge glared at her. "Would you think it reasonable, then, for St. Mungo's to involuntarily admit miss Davidson to the Spell Damage Ward, for her - and ours - safety?"
"Yes, that could be done," she replied.
"I have several things to say, on this matter," Peter said. "You are concerned about her health and wellbeing?" At Fudge's nod, he continued: "we have the same concerns. An hour before now, she has been transferred to an excellent resort in the States. We thought a complete change of scenery best, and she's treated there by top Healers."
So much at least was true, Lara thought sourly, the States were renowned for their Mind Healers.
"Ah, yes, of course," Fudge said, looking flustered, "but naturally, it is our duty as host to care for her-"
"The Healers have declared her lucid," Peter interrupted him, a grin that wouldn't look out of place on a shark on his face.
Fudge flinched as if he was hit around the head. He could hardly claim to know her state of mental health better than the ones treating her. "Well, yes, then… Of course, they know best..; The poor kid must have misunderstood things… In the dark, alone, terrified of Potter…"
Lara did her best not to snort. Fudge should be glad Jane had not heard that - diplomacy or not, no one suggested she was too frail for anything. Or implied Harry would've harmed her deliberately.
Peter, surprisingly, decided not to respond. Perhaps he had decided to save it for Harry's trial. "So, now that your concerns have been addressed, would you permit us to end this session, Prime Minister?"
Fudge turned a bright shade of red, apparently gnawing on the inside of his cheek. Undoubtedly, he'd rather have Jane in custody, since he'd be able to force her to comply. Alas for him, there wasn't a lot he could do, legally.
"Fine, fine," he snapped. "As you wish. But until she's fully recovered, I... Would encourage her to take all the time she needs."
Thankfully, he had enough sense to understand he could not keep her from her job.
Lara stood, her back rigid as she stood stiff upright, drilling holes in Fudges eyes - although it only took minutes for him to look away - and stiffly said: "On behalf of my nation, I thank you for your concern. When my sister and I have agreed on the matter, you'll be informed. Meanwhile, we would like to thank you for your consideration and patience." With swishing robes, she left. Actually thanking Fudge for being the daft idiot he was, had been hard. But Jane had insisted; they had to pull this show off correctly for it to work. It was way more important than her grudge against Fudge. As she stalked to the elevators, Peter caught up with her.
"What will you do now?", he asked.
"My sister will see it is in our nation's best interest for her to step down, temporarily. She's not herself."
"You are serious about this, aren't you," he sighed.
"I have to," she replied stiffly.
"Will you hear me out? What if you are wrong, and she's right?"
A couple of other wizards approached. Peter talked on, in hushed tones. "You have to be sure of what you're doing. You have to realise what it implies. You should-"
"Stop telling me what to do! I've had enough of that. My sister will see later that it's for the best-"
"You don't believe-"
"The dead don't return, Peter," she said in a low voice. "Excuse me-" She stalked off, after some wizard that had just passed by, as if she'd had enough of the conversation with Peter. She resisted the urge to look back. If she had, she would've seen that one Arthur Weasley was drilling holes in her back, whereas Fudge stood further in the corridor, a calculated look in his eyes.
Jane POV, embassy, London
She sat in her office - or rather, her office that was no longer her office - with a nostalgic look in her eyes. As much as she had wondered whether she should take the position, once she was an ambassador, all doubts had left her like they were washed away. However stressful it had been, at times, it had been proven useful. She stared out of the window. Now, whatever she would be capable of doing, would be way more limited. Ever since she'd woken at St. Mungo's, she'd wondered whether there were other options. She'd reached out, as discreet as possible, to other allies, asking their advice; they had been unable to come up with a better plan.
A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. Her secretary came in. "Madame, your sister has returned. And you have a visitor."
"Who?"
"He wouldn't say."
She blinked, then stood. "Let him in."
Her thoughts swirled around, as she tried to assess who would want to visit her anonymously. Albus Dumbledore had yet to agree to meet her officially - although Sirius, who had been reinstated in the Order of the Phoenix, along with Remus Lupin, had told her Dumbledore had told the members he would be meeting a new force in the field soon - and she could not think of anyone else.
As her secretary entered again, she announced: "madam ambassador, your visitor," before carefully closing the door after her. Jane studied the person - she thought it was a man - before her carefully. He wore clean, dark robes, his face hidden in the hood. He seemed to have used several Disillusionment charms to hide his presence from others, but they fell off when he entered the building - part of the standard procedure. Jane carefully wove her wand, muttering a privacy spell, and waited.
When the person lowered his hood, she started.
"Madam ambassador," he said stiffly.
"Mister Weasley," she said, staring into the face of Percy Weasley, "what can I do for Prime Minister Fudge?"
In fact, she highly doubted he was here on Fudge's behalf; but that was for him to say, not up to her.
"I am here of my own accord," he replied formally.
"Have a seat," she invited him, gesturing to some corner of her office, where several chairs were arranged around a table. Jane used her desk only when she thought she would need the authority it provided; now, however, she thought she needed to establish an off-the-record feeling.
Percy followed her. "Tea?", she asked calmly. "Biscuit?"
"Neither," he replied, politely waiting until she sat and had gestured for him to sit down as well.
He fidgeted a while. "Forgive me my directness, but it came to my attention, your sister would like to replace you," he said, studying her face.
She kept her expression neutral. "That is… Unfortunate," she replied carefully.
"I think you are needed," he said bluntly.
"You? Or your boss?"
"The Prime Minister seems to have deemed you unfit for your position."
Not a huge surprise, really. She nodded. "Why are you telling me this?", she asked softly.
"Because I know what it's like, to stab your family in the back. I am estranged from mine; do not allow the same to happen to your sister."
Jane frowned. From all accounts, the news had been uniform: Percy Weasley had stopped supporting his family, after being offered a position as junior assistant of the PM. Jane knew Fudge well enough to have realised why he did this; Percy, as close as his family was to Dumbledore, was an easy source of intel. She also knew that the Ministry consisted of Dumbledore supporters and haters, and that Percy had worked close with the latter. It was not unlikely his image of Dumbledore had been tarnished by some recounts of previous events - out of context or not.
She shook her head and stood. "We both know that is bullshit, Percy. Be honest, or leave."
Percy ducked his head. "It's about Potter," he said almost inaudibly.
And the next sentence made Jane's blood turn into ice.
Jane POV, moments later
Her meeting with Percy had lasted an hour - he didn't have any longer, he explained. He was being watched closely; and, as of recently, he had realised he was being manipulated. As Jane had thought, it had been mentioned many times that Dumbledore gave Fudge advice on a daily basis, at one point. People 'forgot' to mention that Fudge had asked for it first. All in all, they had painted the image of a meddlesome, manipulative, power-hungry barmy old coot. And while Jane thought of the Dumbledore as at least meddlesome and manipulative, power-hungry had yet to be proven.
Suddenly, in a flash of light, a magnificent bird appeared. If Jane had not seen Fawkes before, she would've definitely been amazed. He landed on her desk, and looked at her with one beady eye.
"You want me to grab onto you, don't you?", she asked resignedly. The bird blinked. She sighed. "Fine. Hold on." She wrote a quick note that she had an unexpected, urgent meeting, and didn't know when she'd be home. "There you go," she said softly. The bird was incredibly soft, and yet powerful. In a flash of light, they disappeared.
The place they reappeared at was unfamiliar. Although, from the flash of the outside world she saw through a window, she recognised Hogsmeade. "Miss Davidson," Dumbledore said, twinkling near the window on the first floor. "You had asked to see me?"
"Yes," she replied, repressing the urge to shout at him. "You have a secret organisation. I want in."
He blinked. "It is useless to pretend at this point, I suppose."
"Naturally. Remus Lupin told me." Actually, she had learned about it in her mothers journals, but that was information that she didn't want Dumbledore to have.
"We don't allow underage students to fight."
"I do not wish to fight. I wish to deliver information. I wish to be an international contact-"
"We do not wish to involve other countries-"
"Well, then you are wrong. They have nothing to gain from a civil war here either; last time, victims fell internationally. Voldemort does not care about nationalities. This feud still runs. If you were to ask for help, you'd be given it." At the look on his face, she amended: "nothing direct as long as Fudge doesn't cooperate. But contacts with the werewolves, the vampires. Assembly of Aurors to send out. Contact with giants, maybe. And even if it renders nothing: when you don't try, it won't happen, either."
"You seem confident," Dumbledore observed shrewdly.
"This is my job, professor. It has always been. I can do this for you; it won't even implicate you."
"I am unsure about the support I can give you, should something go wrong."
"I don't ask for support," she replied shortly.
"And your position as diplomat? Are you not neutral?"
"Diplomats are. I, however, won't remain one for long."
"You will not fight Cornelis on this?"
She shook her head. "By stepping aside myself, I have a better negotiation position. I can provide a substitute; I can come back more easily, when Fudge has regained his senses. Not unlike your position, I daresay."
Dumbledore looked at her with a newly found respect in his eyes. "You are very cunning, for a Gryffindor."
She eyed him. "I think I have sufficiently proven I can also be rather rash, when facing danger." Something Henry would not let her forget anytime soon. And rightfully so, she suspected. Actually, scratch that. She was sure of it.
Dumbledore dipped his head. "While an incredibly brave thing to do, not the best option you could have picked."
He seemed to be considering his options. But as Jane had expected, his curiosity for her - and her abilities to sense emotions so far, possibly some other talents he'd recently find out about - made the decision for him. "You are accepted. You'll receive word about the meeting, and someone will be by to bring you to the headquarters." That was good. She'd been unable to find out where they were, because of the Fidelius.
"And the matter of Harry Potter?", she asked, finally allowing her anger to rise.
Dumbledore looked pained. "I'm afraid I don't have the political leverage to get him out. He'll have to wait until the trial-"
"And when is that, exactly?"
"31st of October," Dumbledore said, in a tone as if it pained him to say it.
"Move faster," she ordered. At his raised eyebrow, she amended: "I've got inside sources. Fudge left the interrogation in the 'capable' hand of minions of his, identity unknown. But apparently, they do not shy away from Unforgivables."
She saw something flash in Dumbledore's eyes - was it concern?
"Can you do something?", he asked tiredly.
"Yes, but he'll have to go back to his relatives," she replied softly.
"I'd like for him to stay there anyways," Dumbledore said tiredly. "Thank you."
She noted that he still had no idea that Harry was no longer with his Aunt and Uncle. So much for security, she thought.
Fawkes flashed her back to her office.
Harry POV
After his arrest, things had changed.
First of: he'd been carted off to Azkaban. He was sure Sirius would go berserk - hopefully Remus could calm him down. Secondly, some Ministry witch had taken to interrogating him ever since the first interrogation with Fudge present. And now Fudge was no longer present, she seemed to have no qualms to use her inner Voldemort as he had taken to call it. And as she screamed into his face, screamed for him to admit that Voldemort was in fact not back, that he and Dumbledore had cocked that up to undermine Fudge, he withdrew into his mind.
In a field his mind had concocted, he was with his parents, with Jane's parents - birth parents and adoptive ones - with Jane and her sister, Ron and Hermione. It was warm, it was peaceful.
And above all: there was no pain, no lingering sadness.
Had he been paying better attention, he'd have noted that, every once in a while, he got a decent meal, from a kind black-skinned man with a booming voice.
But he was no longer paying attention to the outside world.
After all, had he not everything he desired for?
Jane POV, 1st of August, late at night, France, Ministère de la Magique (Ministry of Magic)
All the grandeur around her, could've made the world go blind. It was as if every single diamond in the entire country was here. On normal occasions, she enjoyed those social, political gatherings in France - but not tonight.
Not in the entire week, she had enjoyed something since Harry had returned.
She'd been able to get him free, in a combined effort with Peter, in the afternoon of the 25th. But it seemed in vain: Harry had not acknowledged anyone. Not during the hearing, with the Weasleys there to show their support - well, Ron and Ginny and the twins, at least. Hermione as well. Not during the week that had followed.
He had not said a single word. He had barely eaten, and he was already starved. He refused to drink potions. Apathy, Henry had called it. Harry had learned to cope with the trauma he'd endured by shutting the outside world out in its entirety.
It was not your fault, he had whispered to her when she was in a coma, in St.-Mungo's. It wasn't her fault that he'd been hunted, used to resurrect Voldemort, forced to duel, had been tortured.
It's not yours either, she wanted to tell him. Cedric's death had hit him hard already, but all extra the shit on top of it… Psychologists would have a field day with this one. But Harry was unreachable; captured and trapped in his own mind. Only he, Henry had explained, can find the way out. But he has to choose to do so.
And thus, they had waited. She had talked to Harry, taken him to care for the horses, even taken him on a ride. Remus had read books on Defence and on Quidditch to him. Sirius had taken him to fly (Harry sitting in front of Sirius on a broom, actually), had changed into Padfoot, played pranks.
And through all of this, Harry had sat there, that vacant, distant look in his eyes always present.
Considering the trauma he had gone through, a week was nothing, Jane knew that. But she was turning impatient. She, herself, was dealing with the trauma through a mind Healer. But she was not used to not having Harry to consult with - or worse, he was physically there, but not really. She could touch him, but not reach him. And it was so ungodly painful to watch.
Tonight was her first night out. It would be brief, but she would officially transfer her position as ambassador to her sister. Her presence was required. End of story. No matter how much she thoroughly hated it.
"You look like you're enjoying yourself," Remus said, with a smile on his face. His tone was somber, however, contradicting his facial expression so much she blinked. Appearances. Of all of them, he was having it the worst, she knew. They all leaned on him, because of his calm demeanor, it was easy to forget he was suffering as well.
"As do you," she replied. "How's Sirius?"
Remus smiled politely, as if she had said something funny and he dearly wanted to laugh aloud, but couldn't for appearances' sake. "Awful. I don't know how much more he can take."
She nodded. Sirius, as Harry's Godfather, had felt incredibly responsible. He had not been there for thirteen years. Harry had been abused all that time. And when he had been there, he couldn't prevent the Triwizard Tournament. Or the graveyard. She forced out slow, deep breaths, trying to stay in the present. Harry's imprisonment and subsequent torture had not made things better - certainly not when it had been discovered Harry had been put in his old cell.
She eyed her sister as she talked to some important people. "How are the negotiations?"
"The French werewolves will support our cause. They'll reach out to their British counterparts, but the other packs…"
They are lost to Voldemort, she finished for him, mentally. Except those at the WereWolf Centre.
"How are things at the WWC?", she asked.
"Good as ever. Can't take new candidates, for risk of infiltration. But otherwise, all good. Those that are there, are happy, learning, finally at ease."
Jane frowned, looking around the room.
"Something the matter?", Remus asked, unable to keep the uneasy edge out of his voice.
"Jean left."
Remus discreetly scanned the room. "Maybe he left to contact the team that guards Harry?"
Since Harry was in a fragile state of mind, he couldn't travel. He was protected by a team, since Jane had to say her official goodbyes as diplomat to international guests - and she had to do it at the French ministry, that was the law. It was the perfect opportunity for Remus to network with the werewolves, and for Sirius to network with the Pure- and other bloods. Although Purebloods didn't regard themselves as semi-Gods in France, they still had the same mannerisms as their British counterparts. Jane could exhibit these as well, but it had been decided that she wouldn't. She always felt uneasy, digging through what those Death Eaters had taught her.
"Should've returned," she said shortly. Then she stiffened, a look of pure panic on her face, before it relaxed again.
"Come. Now," she ordered, putting her glass down and elegantly sliding to the doors of the ballroom. Sirius was still talking animatedly with some important people, as was Lara. Henry, Remus noted with an uneasy feeling, was starting to leave inconspicuously as well. As soon as they were out, Jane kicked off her high heels, held them in her hand, and began to run towards one of the smaller doors. Nodding to the guard in front of it, she entered, Remus and Henry behind her. Henry carefully closed the door.
And there stood Jean, pale and with a worried expression on his face.
Remus' stomach clenched.
"The wards have been breached," Jean said monotonously. "Harry's security team doesn't respond. There's been an emergency signal about an attack from the WWC as well. Dubois granted us men to figure this out - or rather, she offered her own to guard Lara for now, freeing up ours to return to Britain."
Well, Jane thought, at least you can trust the French PM.
Thought the whole thing was over, didn't you, Jane dear? Well, I'm afraid, no rest for the wicked until Voldie's met his (un)fortunate demise.
And who knows when that will happen?
At any rate: this was the official start of fifth year!