A/N:
Welcome to Chapter Thirteen.
I hope you enjoy.
Thanks again for the reviews, favourites and follows!
Cheers,
ATG
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Chapter Thirteen
Wednesday September 9th 2012
Lucky hadn't yet woken, but they had been sent away by Peyton, who had.
She had found them, cuddled up together on the two chairs. Hermione's head resting easily on James's shoulder, who was resting his own head on hers.
They were doing the long blinks and heavy nods when Peyton had woken them both and sent them away.
"You two have too much to talk about, and too much to do than to sit here. Besides, I want some time alone with my husband and daughter." She had said in a manner that allowed no argument.
"Besides, neither of you can even keep your eyes open. Go and get some sleep."
Naturally, she had still gotten arguments from James. But even he had relented when Hermione had encouraged him that it was Peyton's decision, and they should respect that.
He had relented or had been too tired to argue. Hermione didn't mind which one it was, because it meant she could get him home, get some sleep and finally they could get started on some of the long conversations they were well overdue for.
They had finally left and returned to James's place where they sat out on the desk on his outdoor lounge. For the first part they were content to sit and watch the slow rising of the sun over the hills and mountains that surrounded Hereford.
A comfortable, relaxed, exhausted, silence had once again overtaken them.
Her legs lay across his lap, their hands entwined. They were both bone tired. They knew there was too much to talk about, but fatigue emptied their minds.
Hermione pulled out and stared at the wand. It wasn't Ron's. She had seen that wand entirely too many times for it to be his. It couldn't be.
This wand was Blackthorn. A warrior's wand. It was a long wand of about 14 inches. A dueling wand. The extra length was better for accuracy, though it made it more difficult to cast quick spells.
She held it in her hand and twisted it around. She was sure she had seen this wand before. But the who, when and where eluded her tired mind.
"James." She said finally, looking at him. He was appraising her as she did the same for the blackthorn wand in her hand.
"I need you to be honest with me. It's important."
James cocked an eyebrow at her. He gave her a knowing look.
"I get that I have no right to ask this, in light of everything, but it is important. I promise. You'll hear no more lies from me. I'll tell you anything you want to know. But this. I need to know about this. Just tell me about this and we can get some sleep. Everything else can wait until we have rested."
"I took it from someone during the job." James said, rubbing a hand over his face, trying to wash the fatigue away. He failed miserably. She could see reflected in his eyes the same wants that she herself had. Bed. Sleep. Comfort. Touch.
Not in that order.
"He was dying. Kept screaming something. I took it from him so he couldn't shoot us in the back with whatever it was that they were shooting with."
Hermione closed her eyes. She felt a wave of emotions that hit her already tired mind. A long wave.
The ramifications started to swim around in Hermione's head. Her mind turned to Ron, bruised from a rubber bullet. And now this wand she held in her hands. That was a conversation for later.
She looked up at him. His eyes were searching hers. "What is going on, Hermione?"
Hermione sighed. She reached into her lower back and pulled out her own wand and held it out in front of him.
He stared at it. His eyes never left her ten-and-three-quarter inch vine wand with a Dragon Heartstring.
He had just seen her using it of course. But he hadn't seen it close enough to get a good look at it. The interconnectivity of the items had not been lost of him, that's for sure.
His hand came up and rubbed at his tired red eyes.
Hermione saw him took a deep breath as his eyes never left her wand held next to the strangers.
"What are they? Actually?"
Hermione looked him in the eye. "Wands. James. They are wands. Just like yours, sitting on your mantlepiece."
"Wands." James repeated. "Magic wands?"
"Magic Wands." She confirmed. "Who did you take this from?"
James shrugged. "We never ID'd the bodies. That was MI5, the tasking agencies job. They came in after and conducted the intelligence picture. I forgot to hand that over to them. So, whoops."
She knew full well that he hadn't forgotten anything.
"I need you to know something important now. You do realise that there are good witches and wizards, and bad witches and wizards?'
"I'm more a shade of grey type of person myself. But that seems to be a concept that is simple enough that I can get behind it."
Hermione lifted his chin with her finger and forced her to make eye contact with him.
"So, I need to be clear about this. I have friends out there who work in some dangerous professions. I need to know whose wand this is."
"Are any of your friends Death Eaters?" James asked pointedly. There was something in his eyes. She wouldn't say it was suspicion, but she wouldn't say it wasn't either.
She sighed and ignored the implication. "No James. You can be assured that I am not friends with Death Eaters. And you can be very well assured that they are not friends with me either. I don't quite meet the 'blood requirements' for that organisation. Even if I didn't completely disagree with their policies on genocide, torture, and enslavement of Muggles."
James gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Sounds like quite the club." He said sarcastically.
Hermione continued as if he hadn't spoken.
"But I need to know whose wand this is. I understand you were fighting Death Eaters. The floating skull that injured Lucky is their symbol. I just need to know a bit more. There are some significant implications here for the world of Magic. The Death Eaters can force others to do their bidding. I need to know whose wand this is, because there is a chance that this was someone not acting of their own free will."
"Like I said Hermione, we never identified him. But he kept crying for his Lord. Some form of Lord something. I thought he meant the Christian god at first, but he kept saying a name. Dark Lord, something. Dark lord – I don't remember. A lot happened since then."
He put his weary head into his weary hands as he wracked his brain.
Hermione let out a long sigh and her hand lightly squeezed James's arm.
"Voldemort?"
"That's it. Voldemort." James nodded, attempting, and failing to suppress a long yawn. "The name was vaguely familiar to me. Very vaguely. I didn't like the name. In fact, you could safely say I hated it. Would it be safe to assume that this Lord Voldemort is a bad witch or wizard?"
Hermione could see the flicker of recognition in his eyes, despite his nonchalant attitude.
"That's a very, very bad wizard." Hermione confirmed. "In fact. He was the worst wizard in a very long time."
"Kind of a Darth Vader type?" He asked. She could tell he was tired. She could tell he was tired because he was cracking these kinds of jokes and making these kind of references in an attempt to keep it light.
She couldn't help but shake her head. She was not used to someone being so indifferent about Voldemort, particularly not the person who had lost so much to him.
"You could say that. Maybe more a Sauron type." Hermione said gently, knowing that it was time to reveal to him some information that was hard for her to say. "James? Remember how I said your parents were dead?"
James nodded darkly.
"Voldemort killed them."
James sat back and tilted his head back into the chair. He let another long breath. "Oh." Was all he said.
Hermione bit her lip before continuing. "He also tried to kill you as a baby. He failed. He gave you your scar." He turned to look at her at that, and his hand reached up to rub the scar on his forehead. She had his full attention now.
"You're the only person to have ever survived the killing curse. The only recorded person in history. He cast it on you, and you did not die. It rebounded on him. Then, for most of your school years, he hunted you, attacked you, and anyone you loved. He even attacked the school."
James just listened with wide eyes. There was a hint of something that resembled familiarity in them, but it was vague, unfocussed.
"Then finally, you fought him."
"I did? What happened?"
"You did." Hermione said softly. It still pained her to think about. "We don't know."
Hermione chewed her lip thoughtfully. She didn't know what else to say. How far to go. Some of the cat was definitely out of the bag. But she was concerned. Should she go into detail? If she did, what was the point of everything she had tried to protect him from.
"But it was the last time we saw you." She near whispered.
James, tiredly, looked at her and gave her a look. That look. The look. The look that said he could tell exactly what she was thinking.
"Do I get a say?" He said lightly.
She looked at him.
"Of course, James. It's your memory." She finally conceded. Her mother had been right. In the end, it was his. She had no right to hold it back from him. He had every right to make his own decisions.
"But you don't want to tell me." He said simply. There was no accusation in his tone. None at all.
"It's not that…" Hermione said trailing off.
"But you are concerned about the effects it may have on trying to get my memory back?"
She nodded, again chewing her lip.
"If you want my opinion, too much is happening. Anything that might help me in the future is probably necessary. As I said at hospital, if I can't get my memory back, then I will live with that. But I'd rather you just told me things. Any bit of information may help."
She lent forward and kissed him gently on the cheek.
"Its up to you James. I've interfered enough. Made decisions on your behalf enough. You know my reasons, and with grace you have accepted them. But I can't do that anymore. Not now."
He turned his face towards her and gave her a light and gentle kiss on the lips.
"I think I'd rather know. We've passed the point of no return here."
She just nodded to him, then began to speak.
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July 31st, 2002
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry's, Great Hall had long served as the social hub of the school.
Everything was held there. Feasts, sorting's, announcements. Some could safely argue that Wizarding culture put a lot of stock into its food related festivities.
It had always been a welcoming sight, well lit, both by its enchanted ceiling and its natural lighting, but the endless lamps and candles that hovered around the place. It had never been anything short of warm and inviting.
Even when it hadn't been. When Hogwarts had been an almost untenable place to be. When Harry, Hermione and Ron had been public enemy's One, Two and Three respectively, the Great Hall had never failed to welcome them.
Even if its inhabitants didn't always.
Like now. The inhabitants of the castle were not welcoming. Not at all.
Hard to blame them really. With what was approaching.
The tables had been turned up and over to make barricades. Behind which huddled dozens of people. Students for the most part. Students who had not fled when they had the chance. Students who had decided to stay. To fight. To put it all on the line.
Students from all four houses.
There were teachers. Resistance fighters. Members of the Order of the Phoenix. Aurors. Unspeakables. Hitwitches and hitwizards.
There was even a few goblins and the House elves.
The Centaurs waited in the forest, the merpeople in the deep.
The tables had been angled to provide maximum protection for those who hid behind them, as well as opening up their field of vision so that they could employ their spells as effectively as possible.
Hermione's place was behind what had once been the Gryffindor table. Now it was cover. It was protection. It would offer them something. Something to protect themselves from the army that approached.
Something that might provide them some measure of protection from the darkness.
Her hand reached out and found Harry's who was kneeling behind the table next to her. He gave it a reassuring squeeze.
He just knelt there and stared straight ahead. Almost like he was meditating.
He had taken to doing that before fights, ambushes and dangerous taskings. He refused to tell her what he thought about it, just that he would lose himself in thought for a moment.
"Harry." She said softly.
He blinked and turned his head towards her.
Her eyes met his. They were tired. Tired and full of sorrow. Full of trepidation. Fear. Anguish. Anxiety.
They were full of everything that she herself felt. Scared of everything that would come next.
He gave her hand another squeeze. This was it. The horcruxes were gone. Destroyed. Now there was just the man himself. Harry had insisted that they refer to him as the man. He had not allowed the use of the 'Dark Lord' or 'Lord Voldemort'. He made sure that everyone was reassured that the final foe they faced was nothing more than an incredibly evil, incredibly twisted, man.
"Hermione…" He said, trailing off. His eyes left hers. His brows furrowed. His mouth opened and nothing came out.
He took a deep breath as if steeling himself. But nothing came out.
"It's okay Harry. It's okay." She said, giving his hand a squeeze.
He offered her a weak smile.
"I just –ah– Look. I." He looked at the roof. Grey. Dark. A dreary day. A fitting day. "Why is this so hard." He said out loud.
"It's okay Harry. You don't have to say anything. You be safe. You be safe and I'll be safe. I promise."
He sighed. It was deep. Guttural. It was not satisfied. His eyes flashed with unsaid words. Unsaid words that seemed to be refusing to leave his mouth. Words that he just couldn't get out.
He steeled himself. "Hermione. I just needed to say –"
"Oh, Hogwarts." Came a cold voice from the entrance, bereft of any of the nostalgia it tried to portray. "My old home."
It dripped with melodrama.
Harry hung his head and sighed.
He leaned forward and gave her a tight hug. A Harry hug. A hug that had something to it. A sense of finality perhaps? A sense of something unsaid that she couldn't put her finger on. A feeling. A whispered hint of something more.
Then he did something he had never done before. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. It was a gentle kiss. A soft kiss. And it lingered. Lingered for several long heartbeats that she couldn't help but feel in her chest.
The moment passed as the evil swept into the hall.
He gave her a half smile. "Please be safe. Then be happy. I'm sorry. Sorrier than you can ever know." He said quietly before he stood out from behind the table.
If she had known that it would be the last time she would see Harry Potter for ten years, then she might have found something to have said or done.
But she didn't, so she didn't.
Instead, she found herself rendered speechless. Rendered completely and utterly incapable of saying anything.
She wanted to stop him. To stop him from going out there. She felt the fear. The anxiety. The cold grip of terror in her chest as he went to stand. There was something entirely too final about what he said. Something that gave her a rise of alarm.
Finality. Conclusion.
In a way, Hermione felt like he had said his last words to her. And she had been right, which she didn't know until much later.
She had regretted it ever since. What if she had learnt this, what if she had taught him that. All the What ifs that had driven her crazy. Driven her to the point of despair.
What if she had just done one more thing that could have saved his life.
What if she had just helped him that little bit more.
What if she had found something better to say than what she did.
For ten years she agonised over that last minute. Over having it all over again and telling him things. Or fighting harder or changing the plan.
For ten long and lonely years.
Now, knowing him like she did. She wished she had told him she loved him. Even if she hadn't quite known what that meant at the time. Even if she had been blind to it.
Even if she and Harry had been the only ones blind to it.
Because even then, she had. He was her best friend. Her truest friend. And she had not had it in her to tell him that she loved him as he walked around to what was long thought to be his death.
"Hello Tom." Harry said as he walked out from behind the table. "What a pleasant surprise. Here for my birthday, I imagine? How kind of you. I'm afraid we weren't quite set up for a feast. Didn't know how many you were bringing you see. You didn't RSVP. Bit rude, if you ask me."
Lord Voldemort turned and appraised the defiant teenager who stood before him.
A teenager who stood tall and proud. A teenager who stood in the middle of the great hall with all the defiance of a man at the end of two years of war.
A man who knew the outcome before it was decided.
The Death Eaters gathered around Voldemort had their wands out and pointed towards Harry before he had taken four steps out from behind cover.
"Harry Potter." Voldemort's voice dripped with false pleasantries. "There you are my boy. We've been looking all over for you. You've had us worried sick."
"I'll bet." Said Harry, looking almost bored in his defiance. "It's been a busy couple of years. I'm sure you can understand. A bit of running. A bit of hiding. A little bit of fighting."
His eyes cast over the assembled Death Eaters.
"Say, aren't you missing a few friends?"
Voldemort laughed. A long cold laugh that was devoid of anything even vaguely resembling human mirth.
"You're a funny boy, Harry. Very funny indeed. I like your jokes. However, I think you might just be missing a few friends yourself before the day ends. But the game ends here. It all ends here."
"It all ends today, Tom. You aren't wrong. I don't know about here, though."
"Harry. Harry. Harry. No need to be so rude. You'll say my name before the end, my boy. You can mark my words on that."
"Happily. Tom Marvolo Riddle." Harry continued his nonchalant façade. His easy-going nature. His humour hiding the deep sense of fear that was rising up from the bottom of his guts.
"There you go. Problem solved. Why don't you all head off home now and we can call it a day of accomplishments?"
Voldemort's laugh was low and dangerous. But it carried across the hall.
"Anything else you want to say before we get to this, Harry? Or are you happy you've made your jokes? Saved face? Pity that no one will remember what a bright sense of humour you had, my boy."
Harry just shrugged. "What can I say. It's been a rough few years. But I do have one last thing to say, if you will indulge me, Tom."
Voldemort pulled out his wand and pointed it towards Harry. He gave a long flourish and a bow. "Of course, my boy. I won't deny you your last words. I'm not a cruel lord."
"Thanks Tom." Harry said brightly. "Simple last words. NOW!' He bellowed the last word out with all the air in his lungs.
At once dozens of voices cried out a litany of spells that flew into the black robed figures who were standing around the entrance, watching the theatre performance. Many were blocked. Many were not.
Death Eaters fell victim to the varied spells that smashed into their ranks.
It had been beautifully executed, if Hermione did admit it. The way the tables had been set up had set up overlapping angles, so that when the spells hit, they devastated the unorganised gaggle of Death Eaters.
The opening salvo was devastating.
But they it didn't go unanswered.
Spells. Hexes. Jinxes. The flew through the air all around the place, alighting the hall with a multitude of colours.
It would have almost been pretty, if it hadn't been so deadly.
The Battle of Hogwarts had begun.
While the litany of spell fire broke out around them. Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort did what they always did.
They cast their spells at each other.
The red of Harry's met the green of Voldemort's.
And the same thing happened as always happened.
Priori Incatatem illuminated the Great Hall of Hogwarts in that way that always seemed to welcome people.
A bright golden light that shone through the hall. It blinded some. It shocked others.
Not Hermione though. She had seen the Priori Incatatem before.
During the hunt for the Horcruxes, Voldemort had managed to track them down twice. Twice, Harry had fought a rear-guard duel against Voldemort to allow everyone else to escape.
Twice he had held firm under the golden dome. This would be his fourth for the war, if you counted Little Hangleton graveyard.
His fourth. But this time, there would be no cutting and running. This time, there would be a victor and there would be a loser.
And the whole of wizarding Britain relied upon it.
It always kept them in their duel and locked away. When Voldemort was locked in the golden dome with Harry, he was not killing his allies.
"A small price to pay." Harry had once told Hermione.
The dome that formed around them was not a shock to Voldemort. Nor to Harry. It was just a fact of life when it came to them dueling. It was just a part of what they did.
It was standard practice for them, but not to others who had not seen the effect.
It caused other to cower behind whatever cover that it could.
It caused a stop to the rampart duels and spell fire that shot around the welcoming Great Hall of Hogwarts.
Harry's red beam continued to meet Voldemort's green. They were connected. Both men struggled to hold onto their wands against the vibrations of power that resonated through their wands.
Student. Death Eater. Resistance. Order Member. Magical Being. They could only watch. Only watch as the duel between the leaders happened. The duel they were all here to facilitate was finally happening.
The duel that would decide the next step in the war.
Until it didn't.
A crack sounded through the walls of Hogwarts and the duelist were gone.
Vanished.
The golden dome shot outwards and knocked everyone near off their feet. It threw people into walls. Into halls. Into suits of armour or tables.
Hermione slid to the ground and came to a rest against the wall. She shook her head and shot to her feet. Running back to the Gryffindor table that she had been using for cover. She was relieved to see that Ron had managed to make it behind cover himself.
But Harry Potter and Voldemort?
They were gone. Vanished. Disappeared.
No one seemed to know what to do. For a moment it was ridiculous. It was like a bunch of footballers standing around with a flat ball. No one knew what came next. Was it over? Was that it?
Was this the greatest anticlimax of their time?
Fight?
Search?
Flee?
Wait?
It was Bellatrix Lestrange who made that decision.
Of course, it was.
She took advantage of the stunned silence to kill Remus Lupin with a quick and vicious Avada Kedavra. He wasn't looking. He was looking at the spot where Harry had stood.
And with that move, the battle broke out in earnest once again.
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Wednesday September 9th 2012
When Hermione had finished telling her story, James hadn't said much.
It had been a lot to drop on someone who was functioning on about 36 hours without sleep.
He felt every single hour that he had been awake.
All the new information that he was struggling to deal with certainly wasn't making him feel any more rested. Magic. Witches. Wizards.
Dark Wizards who want to murder children.
It would have been a lot to take in if he was fresh of a good night's sleep with a cup of coffee and full stomach.
He was none of those things. But from what Hermione could see, he was dealing with all the information with a stoicism that she had come to associate with him.
As for Hermione, her interaction with James at her parent's place hadn't settled her to get much sleep over the weekend either. So, they were both exhausted, and sleep deprived and wanted nothing more than each other.
Hermione had wanted to talk. She had wanted to hear his thoughts about what she had told him.
Thoughts about the last time she had seen him
But he hadn't said much. A couple of exclamation words, masked by tiredness, but that was it.
He had instead wrapped her up in his arms and carried her to the hammock in the shade. He had then lay her down on top of him and he had begun to stroke her back. He had whispered sweet nothings into her ear and nuzzled his own face into her hair.
The thoughts could wait. She knew they would have to. But cuddling up with him in the hammock in his back yard did wonders to soothe her troubled mind. It did wonders to make her feel like that the troubles of the world, were troubles for the world.
Not troubles for James Black and Hermione Granger.
She sighed as she settled her head onto James's chest and enjoyed his hand running up and down her back.
It relaxed her.
She was exactly where she was supposed to be.
And she was with exactly who she was supposed to be with.
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She had woken gently. It hadn't been enough sleep, she knew that. But at this point she was so tired that she didn't know if 'enough sleep' was anything she would ever have again.
It was still bright out; she could tell through her closed eyelids. But she had no intention of opening them.
James was awake. She could feel his hand stroking her back, his other one playing with her fingers. Gently running his fingers over hers, feeling his way down her hand to her forearm and back up again.
But she was just too comfortable, too happy, and too content to do anything but lie there curled up against him and enjoy the closeness she felt. It truly was to her, the best feeling in the world.
She heard and felt him let out a long sigh and reached a conclusion. He was doing the exact same thing that she was. Refusing to allow anything else in.
A part of her wished that they could live like that forever. That nothing else could come in. That it could just be them and the hammock. Free of any interruption. Free of any outside influence. Free of anything.
It was a fleeting wish. But in that moment, it was all she wanted.
He gently kissed the top of her head as his hand continued to run up and down her back. His lips lingered longer than usual again the top of her head.
They both knew there were some long conversations and difficult conversations in their immediate future. But instead, they were content to just lie there and feel the other person right up against their body.
They were content to feel at home. Because that's what it was. It was home. It was where she was supposed to be. Wrapped up in his arms and not letting the world in.
It would never not be home to her.
That realisation made Hermione happier than she would be willing to admit. She felt her heartbeat quicken at the thought.
It was such a lovely thought.
She felt his hand stroking hers, before it moved along her forearm. It made its way gradually along her arm, up her shoulder, and gradually he felt her fingertips gently brush the side of her face.
Hermione was content to lie there and let him keep going under the impression that she was sound asleep.
She felt him kiss the top of her head again. Another long, lingering kiss.
She felt his thumb run down her throat, and it took everything she had not to shiver at his touch. She was just way too happy to lie there and feel every moment of his hands on her. Enjoy the feeling. Enjoy the sensation of him exploring her, even if it was perhaps not in the way that she would have in mind for him when she finally roused herself.
She couldn't help but let out a contented sigh as his hand gently ran along her skin.
She felt his thumb run along her necklace, which was now resting between them.
His thumb ran along her collarbone, continuing its journey south.
He felt his hesitation when he hit the fabric of her very loose-fitting shirt that she had chosen to sleep in.
She felt as his thumb hooked around the soft metal of the chain and gently pulled on it.
She didn't give it another thought. Later she would think it was because of her highly relaxed state.
He gave it a gentle tug and it came out from between them.
She let out another soft moan as she felt its absence from between them.
She could feel the chain gently moving around as he pulled it out to have a look at it.
She should have stopped him then. But she was so caught up in how incredibly close she felt to him to do something like that. Her brain, brilliant in so many ways, didn't even begin to register what was happening.
Her eyes opened slightly. Intrigued by what he was doing, playing with her necklace.
She saw as it still rested by the lace, from the angle it looked like he was holding it out for to see it better.
It was only when his fingers ran down the chain and made contact with the pendant itself that she actually woke up. It suddenly became very warm around her neck.
A crack sounded through the back yard and Hermione jerked awake in time for several things.
"Hermione?" she heard a voice call from nearby.
She felt James bolt from the hammock. His sudden movement and weight displacement nearly flipped the hammock over. Hermione only just managed to grab a hold of the side to keep herself in.
She blinked away the light.
"Ron?" she asked through a raspy, sleepy voice.
Just in time to make out the redhead that had appeared in the back yard. His wand out and ready.
But he wasn't ready.
He wasn't at all ready for a raven-haired man to crash into his side in a tackle that would have made a rugby prop forward proud.
He definitely wasn't ready for get picked up and slammed into the grass.
Hermione leapt from the swinging hammock. All semblance of sleep and pleasant nature of her morning was completely gone.
"James! No!" She cried as she went running towards the two men on the ground.
James had established himself on top and was yelling. "Who the fuck are you? What the fuck are you doing here."
Hermione groaned as she saw him throw a huge punch towards the pinned red head. She then felt six figures bounce off the strong wards she had established on his house. She had no time to stop and figure out where they had been bounced to.
"Oi! Get off me!" Yelled the red head from the bottom. She arrived just in time to see Ron throw a punch at James, which James deftly and easily blocked, pinning his arm underneath his leg as he threw another punch that struck Ron in the side of the chin.
"James! James! Stop!" Hermione yelled as she made it to him. She reached out and touched his shoulder and surveyed the scene.
Ron was trying to shield his face from the onslaught of punches. James looked up at her.
"Hermione?" He asked simply. She could briefly see the sleep that still rested in his eyes. The grogginess that was fading with adrenaline.
She then saw that Ron had his wand in one hand, which James had successfully pinned to the ground.
"Flipendo!" Ron gave a strangled cry, angling the wand back towards James, which let out a loud bang before it sent him flying through the air and crashing into his house.
"James!" Hermione cried as he hit the wall and slid down it.
"Stop it, Ron!" Hermione called as she went running over towards James. He was slowly getting to his feet.
"James! Are you okay?"
Before she could get to him, he had climbed unsteadily to his feet, a small amount of blood running down his face. If looks could kill, the emerald of his eyes would have been the dark green of Avada Kedavra.
"James!"
She didn't manage to make it to him as he darted onto his deck and grabbed a bag, diving for cover behind his banister.
The next thing she saw was him standing behind his banister with a gun in his hand, pointing straight at Ron, who had only just managed to get to his own feet.
"You!" James called. "How the fuck did you find me?"
"James!" Hermione called, but he had only eyes for his gunsights and his best mate of old.
Ron blinked several times, clearing his vision from the repeated blows to his head, before he took in what was going on.
"Hermione, get to cover." James called to her, his eyes never leaving Ron.
"Harry?" Ron said, comprehension dawning on his features. "Harry Potter?" His voice was all wonder and questions. Surprise and confusion.
James faltered slightly, the barrel of his gun dipping slightly. Before he raised it again and stepped back out into the garden.
"Who are you? And how did you find me?" He called out again. His voice much calmer but containing nothing less than the directness of a man with a gun.
Hermione ran up to him.
"James. Please, please put the gun down."
He glanced at her.
"Hermione, get behind me." He reached out to move her, but she shrugged away from his hand.
"Put the gun down. Please." She begged, taking a hold of his outstretched arms in her hands.
Ron, under the watchful glare of the gun barrel, had nervously adopted a dueling stance. He had been shot before, recently, and he didn't appear keen to repeat the experience.
"Harry?" Ron called nervously. "Hermione? What's going on?"
"Hermione." James said, only glancing at her. "I shot this bloke during a job. He's working with the Death Eaters. He's come to get his own back."
Hermione suddenly groaned with realisation. So, it was true. That was how it had gone down. Her suspicions were correct.
"You!" Ron cried out furiously. "Harry, you shot me?"
Suddenly the nervousness went out of him, and the temper appeared, he adopted his dueling stance and looked like he was about to cast. Seeing that, she could see that James's finger had begun to take the pressure up on the trigger.
It was all getting out of hand.
"James!" she called out, reaching for his arm. "James he's not working with the Death Eaters. I promise. James, he's first friend you ever made! He's your best mate. He's Weasel, James."
She saw his hand start to shake, and the pistol shook along with it. His face turned into a grimace. He turned his head and looked at her. Then back at Ron.
"He's Weasel." She said soothingly. "From your three best friend stories? You're Potty. I'm Bookworm. Those stories actually happened James. I promise you. He's not a Death Eater."
She saw his gun barrel dip, just a little.
Seeing her opening Hermione struck quickly.
"Expelliarmus." She called, her own wand in her hand. The gun leapt from James's hand and Hermione deftly caught it. She saw that Ron looked like he was about to cast his own spell.
"Expelliarmus." She then deftly turned and hit Ron, catching his wand as it flew to her.
She took a step away from James, holding up Ron's wand and James's gun in her left hand as she did so.
Both James and Ron looked at her in shock. For a moment, a brief one, she was taken back all the way to Hogwarts, when she would settle their disputes with facts and logic. It had been very rare indeed when she had to use magic.
But the expressions they wore were the same ones that would dance on their faces when she would master a complex spell in a single class.
James was looking at his hand and then her with astonishment, though Hermione would be lying if she didn't see a hint of something in his eyes when they turned back to her.
Something she couldn't exactly determine.
Ron was looking at her with a slight bit of embarrassment. For an Auror, being disarmed was not exactly something to be proud of.
"If we could all just take a breath before we kill each other." Hermione said, giving both of them a stern look. "Perhaps we might be able to have a civil discussion. And I would be of the belief that we have a lot to discuss."
James scratched the back of his neck nervously. Ron looked at his shoes.
"Alright, Hermione. I'm sorry." James said, finally, shooting her a shrug.
"Yeah, I'm sorry too, Hermione." Ron echoed.
This was just like being back in school. She shook her head. "Boys". She muttered under her breath.
A Patronus appeared, an orca by the looks of things, it flew straight over to Ron.
"Auror Gold Class Weasley." It said, a stiff, formal voice behind it. "We are being kept out by the wards, have you got a report?"
Ron looked at Hermione and James who were still standing on the deck of the back yard.
He looked at them as he opened his mouth, appearing to think very carefully about what he wanted to say.
"It's a false alarm. I've confirmed with Hermione. All is well, no need for further resources. Return to the Ministry."
The Patronus nodded at him, then swirled around into nothingness.
Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. James glanced at her confused. His eyebrow was raised.
He almost looked like he vaguely recognised what was going on, but it was from a long-forgotten dream or a movie he saw once, years ago. Which was good, in that it meant that perhaps more of his memories were surfacing.
But it was better in that he hadn't completely freaked out.
Ron started walking towards the balcony. James stepped out on the path, meeting him just before he got to the garden path that led to the balcony.
They strode up to each other.
"James." She called warningly. "Ron."
They stood face to face and eye to eye. For the longest moment they stood and stared. Neither dared to move.
Ron's face broke out into a huge, face splitting, Ron Weasley smile and he grabbed the shorter man in a big hug.
James for his part, did what he always did when touched by another person. He tensed. But it was only for a moment, a short moment. A shorter moment than even when he had tensed for her mother.
He reached out and lightly patted Ron on the back.
He was getting a lot of hugs lately.
Hermione felt her eyes swell with tears. Seeing them like that took her back to happier times. Before the battle. Before the horcruxes. Before all of that. Back when it had just been the three of them against the world.
Back when they had had him.
Back when she had had him.
It was just so fantastic to see them both together. Harry and Ron. The other parts of the Golden Trio that had made her schooling years so memorable. It was those two who had gotten her through everything.
The two people who had saved her from a troll. Then saved her from her own loneliness. Who had brought so much colour into her life. So much spice and happiness that she would never have thought possible.
They parted, with Ron still holding James's shoulders.
"Harry Potter." He said, with the massive smile across his face. "Harry Potter. You're alive mate."
James, for his part just stood stuck and still. Frozen. He just stared at Ron.
"It's James Black, actually." He said quietly.
Ron just nodded at James. His hands still gripping his shoulder. It looked almost like a mother who wasn't listening to her child as they told a story that went nowhere, slowly.
Then, without warning he punched James square in the jaw. It was a good hit. A right hook that made a crack as it connected with James's jaw.
"Ron!"
James stumbled to the side. He didn't fall. He just put his hand to his jaw. He spit out some blood, which was matched by Ron who turned and spat his own out, from the numerous shots he had received when he arrived.
James started nodding almost automatically as he turned back towards Ron.
Hermione rushed forward moving to stand next to them, ready to intervene again if she had to.
It was definitely like other Hogwarts times now. Times like in fourth year. The whole debacle with the Goblet of Fire and the row that had gone on for what had felt like the longest time.
She watched as James turned and looked Ron dead in the eye.
"James. Please." She said with a hint of warning. She was almost begging.
"For the ribs?" James asked quietly.
Ron nodded as a smile crept back over his face. "That bloody hurt, mate."
James just shrugged. "I think that's the point."
Hermione looked at them back and forth. Her wand in her hand ready to break them up if they decided to start punching each other again.
As she looked at them back and forth in that long moment, the two boys stared at each other.
Finally, James's hand reached out and captured hers. She looked up and saw his eyes were twinkling.
"Coffee or tea?" He asked.
XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX
Wednesday September 9th 2012
When the footage finished, it left more questions than answers.
It was frustrating, confusing, enthralling stuff.
It also filled Detective Superintendent Rufus Thompson with no small sense of dread. It had taken them a week. A bloody week, to actually get a hold of the footage, then to get it to work.
It was, as with most technology, seeming to work against them.
Even then, the footage was good quality. Only good. Not great. Faces were determinable but not able to be made out to Court standard. Which worked against them.
He turned to Detective Inspector Paul Biddle next to him.
"Thoughts?"
"At least we now know what those sticks are for, sir." Said Paul, as he scrolled back through the footage to rewatch the part that had captured their attention so thoroughly.
The man stepped out with his stick and gave it a flick of his wrist. From there a flash of red light flew from the end and past the van that was out the front of the pub.
They had no angle of the front of the van, so it was impossible for them to determine if it had hit anything, but Rufus suspected not. Not that he had anything to base that off. He had never shot a red light from a stick before.
He had seen plenty of sticks before. But to see one in action? That was new. Very new.
Especially when the van had driven off and the four remaining people had collected themselves. A few well-placed waves by a few well-placed sticks had seen to the destroyed window and much of the damage.
The four people had then taken off at a full sprint, all but carrying the red head.
"Paul." Rufus began, knowing that he was about to ask a stupid question. But truthfully, sometimes stupid questions had to be asked. This was one of those times. "In your experiences, Military or Police, have you ever seen a weapon that shoots a flash of red light like that?"
Paul didn't laugh. He didn't even seem to think the question was stupid. He was only staring thoughtfully at the footage, which had been paused with the flash of red light leaving the end of the stick.
"Not once, sir. That's new to me."
Rufus nodded. He thought so. But sometimes these things had to be checked. His knowledge of weapons paled in comparison to the good Inspectors.
"What do you make of it, sir?" Paul said, turning to Rufus.
Why are things never simple?
Because you would get bored of them if they were.
Rufus crossed his right leg over his left as he settled back into his chair. It was time to think out loud.
"Let's examine the evidence from the start, Paul."
Paul nodded. "As good a place as any to start, I'd wager."
"If you will indulge me, I'll run it all down. It's been some time, after all. We have had a collection of deceased that have turned up with those small sticks in their possession. Many of them have injuries on them, some of them do not. Some are fatally injured, some of them are not. Some of them are what can only be described as 'bafflingly dead'."
Paul took a sip of tea from a mug embellished with the Metropolitan Police logo.
"Some of them can be identified. Normal people. Seemingly normal people. Citizens of the Crown. Citizens of the crown with no recorded employment, benefits, NHS or anything else. But dead. Completely dead. No signs, nothing. Coroners can't determine any type of death. But many of the bodies are not harmed in any other way."
Rufus paused to take a long breath.
"Some can't be identified. No record exists of them, criminal or otherwise. We have no way of identifying any of those John or Jane Doe's we unearth. But many are dressed in outlandish fashion, compared to the standard of the day."
Rufus crossed his hands over his stomach.
"A few notables come to mind, sir." Paul said. "There was the pirate. Remember him?"
Rufus let out a small, hollow, mirthless laugh. "No eye, no leg, covered in scars?"
"That's the one."
"How could I forget. Witnesses said he fell from the sky. No injuries consistent with blunt force trauma. Another John Doe in long list of John Doe's."
Rufus continued without waiting for a response.
"In addition, we get a rise of delusional people who have no history of delusion. We get people telling us that certain, assessed natural, accidents are actually the acts of people in masks. It's a common delusion. One that gets dismissed by Mental Health workers as nothing more than a sympathetic sickness."
Paul grunted at that. He couldn't forget those days. It was a busy time for all of them. Busy and aggravating.
"People start to forget things. Police. Civilian. Doctor. Paramedic. Written records don't match up. Nothing matches up. Systems have Policemen attending matters, then the officers having no knowledge about it when asked."
Rufus took a sip of his own tea to collect his train of thoughts.
"It's all confusion. There's panic at the heart of the Police. Brockdale bridge collapses. Most of the first responding Police can't remember what happened. They just remember the aftermath. It gets shaken off as trauma induced memory loss. For the others, they claim that a brand-new bridge just collapsed on its own. But their stories are mixed and lack any consistency."
Paul grunted more audibly at that. He had mates who had been there at the start. Some mates had recovered and continued to serve. A few had not.
"Like Mick's." Paul said, softly for the big man
Mick's memory had collapsed over the years. Forgetting so much of what had made him, him.
Rufus nodded. He reached out and gingerly patted the big man on his big shoulder.
"As steadfast a copper as you could ever hope to serve with. He deserved a better end than that. Couldn't even bloody remember his own wife and son." Paul said quietly. Lamenting the loss of what had truly been one of his best mates.
He still remembered the look in his son's eyes at the funeral a few years later. Paul will never forget that look, the look of a man that knew that something had happened, something had gone wrong. But a man who would not dare to tell anyone what that was.
"The bodies continue to pile up. The confusion amongst us continued to grow. People go missing. People end up dead. People end up blank shells of themselves, memories completely gone. It's random. It's luck. We can't pinpoint anything to do with what is going on."
"It was horrible times, sir." Paul said. "Kissed my kids goodbye every time I walked out the door. I'd almost have rather walked down the streets of Belfast in the 80's flying the Queen's Colours, than do another shift in Jolly Old."
Paul nodded. He had done the exact same thing.
Not the walking down the streets business, but the kissing his children as he left. They had been young. Every time he left he had feared that it would be the last time he would see them.
Dark times indeed.
"Then, a young man turns up in Godric's Hollow. He's barely alive. He has a stick. He turns up next to the body of a man who looks like he had paid some serious money for body modifications. He's the strangest looking person that anyone has ever seen. No nose. No hair. Red eyes. His body modifications are ahead of his time."
He paused for a moment.
"The lads alive. But he's suffering from the forgetfulness pandemic that seems to be sweeping the nation. He can't remember anything. Not even a name. Our breakthrough has come to nothing."
Rufus remembered the defiantly, scared young lad in the hospital bed. There had been no lie in his eye. His memory had been gone.
He also remembered the defiant intern who had sat by his side. He wondered after her. How was she, these days?
"MI5 step in. They take the investigation off of us. The others that have the sticks in them are taken too. But the most peculiar thing happens with the arrival of that lad into our lives." Rufus took a breath.
"It stops." Paul said.
XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX
Wednesday September 9th 2012
"I have questions." Ron said as he sat at the outdoor setting, a coffee steaming in front of him.
"Don't we all." Snorted James, cradling his own coffee in front of him.
Instinctively it seemed, they both looked at Hermione.
She rolled her eyes as she took a sip of her own. "I have some answers. Some."
Ron chuckled. "You're slipping in your old age, witch."
James just looked at them both, his eyebrows raised.
"Why don't you start? I'm rubbish at it. I don't even know what questions I'm supposed to ask." James said with a wave of his hand towards Ron.
Hermione didn't even try to suppress the small smile that appeared on her face, recalling their conversation that morning. His flippant attitude towards Voldemort, towards everything that had happened.
Ron thought for a moment. "Well. Where to start? We could start with the fact that Harry James Potter is alive and well and sitting right in front of me. We could start with the fact that the same Harry James Potter punches like a bludger."
He raised his hand to his jaw as he mentioned that, giving it a slight flex.
"We could also go on about the fact that the same man shot me. Or his name is James Black, instead of Harry James Potter. Or. Or. Perhaps we should start with Hermione?"
James's eyebrows continued their journey towards his hairline as he turned to Hermione. Hermione was looking at James with wide eyes. She knew she wasn't doing a very good job of the innocence she was feigning, but she was doubling down on it. She was committed.
"What about me, Ronald?" She replied.
"Well, the fact that you're currently, and openly, holding hands on the table."
James retracted his hand as if it burnt. Hermione immediately missed the feel of his hand in hers. So, she pounced for it and grabbed it, securing it on the table.
She looked at him as he looked at her with raised eyebrows. She gave him a small shake of her head.
Could have been a seeker. If it wasn't for the flying, or the bludgers. Or everything in regards to Quidditch, really.
"Really?" She admonished. "Your best mate who you thought was dead for ten years is alive and well, and the first question you have is in regard to the fact that we are holding hands on the table."
"Well, no." Ron said simply. "My first question is whether you two are shagging?"
James spat out the coffee sip he had just taken.
Hermione gave Ron a look that could curdle milk, but she couldn't hold it.
Ron looked very pleased. "Okay. So yes. Right. That answers that question."
"Ron." Growled James.
"It's okay James. It is. That's just Ron. He's my best mate Ron. James and I are dating, yes. Happy?"
Ron sat back in his chair smugly, bringing his coffee to his lips with a long, smug sip. "If you are happy. And Harry slash James is happy. I'm happy. And from an outsider point of view, you both look sickeningly happy."
Hermione shook her head.
"Sickeningly so. Like. I would vomit in the backyard here if it wasn't so immaculate. And I wasn't just a little bit scared that you might slap me like you did Malfoy all those years ago. Honestly, I don't think my roguish good looks could take any more blows today."
James chuckled despite himself. Hermione's stern expression crumpled at his easy laugh and she found herself laughing along with James. Eventually all three were laughing.
It was just like old times.
Except it wasn't.
"Honestly though. Let me be the absolute first person to say this. It's about time! You two danced around this whole damned thing for years. Pity it only took him apparently dying, but not dying, but dying, but not, to make you realise what you were both missing!"
He stood and he gave Hermione a hug. Then he hugged James. James still tensed, but not as much as Ron thundered him on the back.
Hermione could tell James didn't like the thundering on the back as much as he liked the hug. And he was still ambivalent towards the hug.
"Now. As both of your respective best mates, I have to give the speech. The 'If you hurt him or her, I will break both of your legs' speech. But I don't know who to give it to. So, if you think that speech applies to you, then, understand the sentiment."
Hermione rolled her eyes.
James shook his head.
It was just like old times. Hermione couldn't help but feeling like Ron had regressed into an adult version of his Hogwarts self. If anything, it was refreshing to see. It was nice to see.
In fact, now that no guns or wands were in play, it was rather nice. She liked nice.
It wasn't nice for long.
Ron returned to his seat and was smiling before he took a sip of coffee. He wasn't smiling after.
The red crept up the back of the cheeks.
"So, my next question is probably my more important one." Ron's voice had become stiffer, stronger. She knew he was trying to control his emotions.
She couldn't tell if he was winning.
"The next one won't be as light-hearted, Hermione. How is Harry alive? How long have you known he was alive? How did you find out? And why – why - did you not tell me? His best mate. Your best mate?"
Hermione saw James sit up shift his body. He was sitting up a little straighter now. A little stronger. His hand clenched and unclenched. Hermione could tell he itched for his pistol, but Hermione had made him unload it and place it inside where it would take him some time to get. He had tried to argue, but the look she had given him left no room for him to voice such disagreements.
It had had the bonus effect of telling him that they would be discussing his possession of a pistol at home without her knowledge, later.
"It's a long story Ron."
"I've got time." He retorted.
"Do you?" Said James quietly, looking at Ron like he very much wanted to throw him out.
Ron raised an eyebrow. Hermione squeezed James's hand tightly.
The cat was well and truly out of the bag now.
"I don't know how he is alive. I don't. Neither of us do. But the long and short of it is…" Hermione paused to collect her thoughts. She knew that this conversation was going to happen eventually, but she still felt entirely too unprepared for it.
"I woke up in hospital ten years ago." James said, giving her hand a squeeze. "No memory, no knowledge of what I've been through, nothing. I only found out recently that Hermione knew me before my memory was lost."
Ron looked at James. "You're taking that information very well."
James shrugged. "I didn't at first. As you might be able to imagine. But some things have happened that have made me consider it all from a – well – a different perspective."
The look he gave her in that moment made her feel about as loved as she had when he had been mindlessly running his hands over her in the hammock, right before the Weasley incursion.
"I still don't know a great deal about everything. Just that I'm a Wizard. Hermione's a witch. And some crackpot named Voldemort had an unhealthy obsession with me when I was a teenager."
Ron snorted, his temper briefly flagging. "That's an understatement."
James shrugged.
"Point is. I-uh- joined the military. Did a few tours overseas. Got selected for the Regiment, and I've been there ever since. Being in the Regiment means sometimes I get utilised by other agencies, like MI5."
"So, does that make you James Bond?" Ron asked. His mind turning back to the muggle films that Hermione had made him watch.
James just shook his head with a smile. "That's MI6, Ron. Different agency. MI5 is domestic security, MI6 is international."
It was an oversimplification, but it worked.
Hermione found her words.
"I found out the day after the memorial service. He saved the life of a member of the British Royal Family and they gave him a medal for it. I saw his face on the muggle telly and did some research. I told McGonagall my plan and then I came here and have been working on his memory ever since."
The red rose higher on Ron's face. "You told McGonagall, but not me?" Ron looked fit to burst.
"I did." Hermione said, her voice even and her eyes meeting Ron's angry ones. She had never backed down to his temper before, and right now was not about to be the time to start.
"And why not." His voice was raising slightly now. He was not yelling. Not yet. But his fury was becoming noticeable.
"What would you have done, if I had?"
"We could have come and gotten him. We could have rescued him. Saved him. A few Aurors and we would have gotten him back safe and sound. Back to where he belongs." Ron said hotly.
Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but it was James that cut her off.
"And how did that go for you in the pub?" If Ron's voice was fire, James's was ice.
Ron looked at him with fury. "This is different. We weren't expecting you. It was an ambush."
Hermione could see James's jaw was set. He was looking at Ron with his own anger bubbling below the surface.
"Ron. James." Hermione said. "Can you both please calm down. We can talk about this rationally."
She could feel her own back was up, but she was determined not to let it show.
James glanced at her and nodded. It was quick. But she appreciated it.
Ron let some air out between his teeth before he too, nodded.
"James is unfortunately very right, Ron."
James settled slightly back in his chair.
"Remember what I told you about muggles? About how some of them are very dangerous and not to be underestimated?"
Ron nodded to her.
"Well James is one of those muggles. He's muggle military. Not just any, but he's one of the best. That's why they defeated you in the pub, Ron. Put it this way, they had no idea that magic was real. They had no idea of your capabilities and what you can do with a flick of your wand, but they still handily beat you."
James gave her hand an encouraging squeeze. Well, she interpreted it as encouraging. There might have been a slight amount of pride behind it. Maybe even a bit of gloating.
"If you had tried your little stunt, you would have ended up in a fight you were not at all prepared for. They would have had you in numbers at the very least. It would have been a battle you would not have been equipped to win. And at the end of it, you would have found a man with no memory who was fighting you just as hard, if not harder than all the others. Don't you see Ron? Rescued is the wrong word. He did not need rescuing. He needed – well – to put it simply, he needed recovery."
Ron looked unconvinced. "They are muggles, Hermione." He said, as if James wasn't there. Not that James was a muggle, or that anyone believed he was.
James stood and reached into the bag from where he had produced the pistol earlier. She watched him pull the wand and throw it to Ron, who caught it, looking down at it.
"Tell that to the owner of that wand." Said James, returning to his seat.
"The owner of – what?"
Hermione looked pointedly at Ron.
Ron took a moment as he looked at the wand, then at Hermione whose eyes were darting in a concerned manner towards James.
Realisation lit up his features. "James." Ron said slowly, Hermione noted it was the first time that Ron had called James by his newer name. "Did you kill the owner of this wand?"
James returned Ron's look. "No." He said simply.
Ron took a deep breath.
"My 'muggle' teammates killed the owner of that wand."
Ron's eyes shot back to Hermione, as James took another sip of his coffee.
"Bloody Hell." Ron said, rubbing at his eyes.
"I killed his mate."
Ron's eyes shot open, and he looked across to James.
"What?"
"Yeah, he had some forcefield up. He just fucking teleported right behind us. Was about to do my new bloke in, so I stepped around his shield." James paused as he turned and looked Ron dead in the eye. "And then I blew his fucking brains out."
Hermione reached over and took a hold of his hand again. She gave it a gentle squeeze.
He hadn't spoken much or in detail about the people he had killed. Only the first couple from the story of Rafe in Iraq.
She hadn't pried. Not yet. It had been something she had been gradually working up to. She knew it was hard for him to discuss, but if she was going to help him not succumb to problems down the road, she knew she was going to have that discussion with him.
It was on the list.
The list that only seemed to grow.
She gave his hand another squeeze. He relaxed instantly to her touch and turned his face to her.
For her part, she kissed him gently on the cheek.
"It's okay." She whispered to him. He just nodded encouragingly to her.
"So let me get this straight." Ron said, rubbing his face in his hands. "You and your team, in your current muggle role, killed two wizards?" Hermione could see that his face was returning to Weasley red. It wasn't exactly angry, maybe exasperated. The look of a man who had been significantly inconvenienced by something that he thought would be a good thing.
The same look that Minerva had sent the trio's way on many occasions during their time in Hogwarts.
"Four."
Ron just nodded. Nodded like he didn't know what else to do. He nodded like it was the most natural bit of information a person could receive.
"Four. Lovely. Wonderful. Fantastic." Ron said as he again stared at the wand.
"If it helps." James said simply. "They were Death Eaters."
Ron just nodded. "Right. Death Eaters. You and your team of Muggles killed four Death Eaters?"
"Yes."
Ron just nodded. "I don't know if I'm supposed to thank you. So, I think I'll just thank you."
His voice was blank. Emotionless. Flat.
James just shrugged as he took another sip.
Ron again focused on the wand.
"I think we need to take a few steps back and figure this out." Ron said softly, looking at the wand.
Ron lifted his own wand and muttered an incantation as he pointed it at the wand.
On its own accord, the wand raised itself in front of Ron's face. It then let out a puff of red and gold smoke that swirled and twisted until it formed two words.
"Alastor Moody"
Hermione tightened her grip around James's hand. Ron's mouth dropped open.
Even James looked at the name in some form of vague recognition.
"This is Mad-Eye's wand?" Ron asked.
Hermione just shrugged. The spell that Ron had conducted only worked for active members of the law enforcement community. It was all part of their intelligence gathering. It was a significant invasion of privacy for anyone else to do it, so no one else was able to conduct it.
"That is another familiar name." James said, turning to look at Hermione.
She nodded at him. "He was killed by Voldemort himself, protecting a decoy on a broomstick who was pretending to be you. He was a brave man. Brave and paranoid. But from what the survivors said, he went to his end with dignity and honour."
James nodded. She could see him avert his eyes. He didn't like hearing that people had died for him.
"We never found his body. We assumed the Death Eaters got a hold of it. Which would make sense if they had stashed his wand until they could escape." Ron said slowly.
Ron continued to stare at the wand in his hand.
"James." He said simply. "There is a lot to unpack here…" He trailed off.
"You're telling me." James said simply, his hand starting to rub little circles around on Hermione's hand.
James turned away and looked out over his back yard again.
"There's more to this." Hermione said softly, leaning over the banister with James, taking his hand in hers. "Much more Ron."
"What do you mean?"
"Ron. I think that the muggle government is researching magic." James gave her hand a squeeze as she spoke. "I think they are using James and his team to see how Muggles will fare in open battle with Witches and Wizards."
Ron looked at her.
"We have started to reach the same conclusion." Ron said slowly. "The Auror Corps I mean. We just don't know to what end. That's what we have been trying to figure out. Do they want open war between muggles and wizards?"
Hermione shrugged. "I don't know. What I do know is at the very least they are looking at how they can defend themselves against us. And not to sound callous, but it makes sense. It is not a stretch to imagine them looking for ways to fight us. That said, I don't know if they are looking for a war. If they are aware that we exist and what we can do, it is well within muggle nature to seek a way to combat it. It is how human beings have survived and thrived for so long. Adaption."
Ron nodded and turned to James. "What do you think James?"
James turned back to Ron. "I think she's right. From what little I know about magic, and what Hermione has so far told me; it has all felt like a test. Like we were deliberately put up against you to see what would happen. We received no warning, no information about magic, none at all. It's clear that they know I'm a wizard. It's why my team has been used consistently."
He looked thoughtful for a moment.
"As to whether MI5 wants a war or not? I don't know. I fucking hope not."
A thought came to Hermione, and she turned to James. "Your equipment. How much of it is powered by batteries? How much of it is electronic?"
James shrugged. "A lot. Radios, weapon sights, night vision, night sights, the list goes on."
"And how did it go? Did it fail? Go haywire? Work in any way other than it was supposed to?"
James looked thoughtful for a moment.
"It all worked well. In fact, that may be one of the few times that I have no equipment issues to complain about. Normally something fails at the worst possible time. Normally its communications. But nothing. Nothing failed. My communications were crystal clear, my weapon sights never failed, my Night vision was perfect. It was all perfect."
Hermione nodded. She turned back to Ron. "From what James has told me about the attack on the Death Eaters. There were wards in play, Ron. And none of them did anything to affect the muggle gear."
Ron just nodded at her. But it was clear he didn't quite follow.
"Think about it Ron. Muggle electronics go haywire around strong magic, especially wards like they Death Eaters were likely using. They don't work. But the gear of James and his team all worked better than perfectly. So, what does that tell you?"
Ron let out a long breath. "It's magic?"
Hermione nodded. "It's magic. Likely it's enchanted. Enchanted to overcome magical interference."
Ron just nodded. "Well, that's problematic." He said simply. It was clear that he hadn't properly cottoned onto the situation.
"Bloody Hell. Muggles enchanting things. Muggles with magic. This makes thins more complicated."
"I'd say complicated is only the beginning." Hermione said.
They fell into thoughtful silence.
"Our gear was stored in their armoury for a couple of days. We weren't allowed access." James said finally.
Hermione nodded as she chewed her lip. She leaned her head onto his shoulder.
Ron took another sip of coffee. This was all getting entirely out of hand.
Hermione eyes widened. "Oh, shit." She breathed.
"Oh no. Oh no. Oh no."
Ron just looked at her with confusion. "What are you talking about, witch?"
"Your brothers." Hermione said hurriedly. "Weasleys Wizard Wheezes."
"What about them?" Ron said, an edge in his voice.
"Seamus and Dean!" Hermione said pointedly. "Their products are all muggle technology that functions around magic. It can be done. What if they have taught the muggles how to do it? Inadvertently of course." She added the last bit hurriedly. She didn't want Ron to think she was accusing his brothers of anything.
Ron's eyes widened.
"What if we accidently gave them the key to that lock?"
Ron took a long deep breath as he again examined the wand in front of him.
"Merlin! What the actual hell is going on?"
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"It stops." Rufus nodded. "Things start to return to a sense of normality. Things fall back under control. The bodies stop. The memory loss stops."
Rufus ran a hand thoughtfully through his beard.
"A decade passes. With little incident. Nothing overly untoward. But then we see the young lad on the news, he's been awarded the Victoria Cross. He's saved the life of the Duke of Sussex. The footage is rapidly taken down after being broadcast."
Paul took a long and thoughtful sip of tea. "Are you leading towards what I think you are, sir?"
Rufus nodded.
"He's SAS now. Regiment. He's a hero. He has again survived wounds that should have killed him. Then, only a matter of weeks after his reappearance, we have this. More sticks. Only now we have CCTV."
Paul nodded. "They're connected."
"They must be." Rufus said. "You and I have spent too long in the service to believe in coincidence. That team that stopped the stickmen was efficient. It was dangerous. We've both worked alongside the box before. Their teams are good. Great even. But they aren't that smooth. They aren't that efficient."
"That had Regiment written all over it." Paul agreed.
Rufus nodded.
"And who do we know is in the Regiment now? Who do we know whose appearance heralds the end of all this mayhem? Whose appearance now may well be heralding the restarting of this situation?"
"James Black." Paul answered the question that didn't need to be answered. The rhetorical question. But Paul knew that sometimes Rufus liked his little theatricalities.
"James Black." Rufus repeated. "And now it looks like it's our own government working against the stickmen."
Paul just sat still and stared at the paused CCTV footage. He didn't speak.
"I had a look before we watched this, all the old files of those jobs are gone. They've been removed. I would presume our friends over at MI5 are responsible."
"I have copies."
Rufus turned and raised an eyebrow at the Detective Inspector. "Really?"
Paul nodded. "Things were getting crazy as you like sir. It's an old habit from the Blues and Royals. The clerks would lose our paperwork all the time, so I always made another. I have copies of all those old files we worked, sir."
Rufus smiled at the Detective Inspector. "Excellent Paul. Excellent."
"No sticks though sir. Draw the line as on actually stealing evidence. But I was thinking about what you were saying just now sir." Paul said thoughtfully.
"Yes?"
"Well sir, I was thinking you might be wanting to have a chat to James Black some time in the near future? Thought it would be best if we kept tabs on him in the intervening years. Just in case something like this ever happened. Well, it might be that I could make that chat happen."
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"So, I've been assigned a new investigation." Ron said simply. Drinking out of his refilled coffee cup. Hermione suspected he had no idea just how tired, and sleep deprived James and she were, but he gobbled the coffee down like he did food.
James and Hermione had switched to tea. Hermione still sat next to him, pulling her chair around so that she could more easily hold his hand.
She gently blew on the steam rising from her own fresh tea as she gave Ron a curious look.
"You'll never guess it. I'm to investigate the possibility that Harry Potter and Voldemort had survived their battle ten years ago. Also, the whereabouts of their remains."
Hermione looked at Ron, her eyebrows rising.
James gave a soft "Huh" sound.
"I'd say you're about 50 percent done then, Ron." She said, taking a small sip.
James laughed, easily. Ron did too.
"Wait until Robards hears that I managed to solve it that quickly. I was only assigned the investigation this morning." Ron continued. "I may just be the best Auror that ever lived. You are sitting in the presence of greatness. I also get to rub it in to Malfoy that I solved it all by myself. He was assigned to assist."
His voice was light and his smile wide.
"You know Ron." Hermione lightly admonished. "You can call him Draco. Your sister is about to become a Malfoy afterall."
Ron scoffed. "I'll be deep in the cold, cold ground before I call that man by his given name. Even if he has come a long way."
He chuckled.
"Besides. It's all part of the game we play."
Hermione just rolled her eyes. James just looked at them both with a very vague sense of familiarity.
James just kissed her on the forehead.
His eyes met hers. They locked in. His head started to move towards hers. She couldn't help it. She raised her chin and started to align her own head to his. She felt magnetised towards him.
"Oi." He called. Their moment was broken as both eyes shot to Ron. "Not in front of me." He said as he mimed gagging.
Hermione rolled her eyes.
James shook his head. Returning to the situation at hand.
"Wait until your boss hears that your 75 percent done." James said softly.
Hermione turned to look at him, as did Ron.
He shifted somewhat nervously in his chair. "When I was in hospital, I was visited by a couple of detectives. They were investigating a suspicious death. Showed me photos of a dead person. He had been impaled on a piece of wood. Well. They said it was a person, it didn't look like any person I have ever seen before or – well – since."
Hermione squeezed his hand encouragingly. "What did he look like?"
"Bald. Very bald. Veiny head. Red eyes. No nose, just slits, like a snakes nose."
Hermione leaned her head back into the chair and let out a relieved sigh.
She opened her eyes and saw that Ron had done something similar, only he had a big beaming smile on his face.
"Sounds like Voldemort to me." Ron said.
Hermione smiled and leaned over to James, kissing him on the cheek. "That's very good news James. It's wonderful news actually. There was a moment where we feared - where I feared - that if you had survived, there is a chance that he did too. But -"
She shared a look with Ron, who nodded for her to continue.
"But. When it comes to Voldemort, you never can be too sure. Though last time he was killed, when you were a baby, there was no body. Just a spirit essence. However, as Ron has previously said, it sounds like the Death Eaters want the body back. They can not get it, James."
James nodded.
"But I'm sorry, I don't know where the body is. However, when we captured that Death Eater, they were meeting about an MI5 black site. So, I would say that MI5 have it stored somewhere."
Ron nodded. "What's a black site?"
"Basically, a location that can't be traced back to them. No one knows it exists or for what purpose. It will be heavily concealed behind layers of dummy corporations and fake bank accounts." James hurriedly explained.
"Right. I think I get it. I got lucky though." Ron continued. "Robards announced today that we are conducting surveillance on MI5. The other teams have started putting tracking charm after tracking charm on all manner of employees. Its information overload. We don't even know which ones to follow. We can't keep up with the raw intelligence that is being gathered. The rest of the teams are still hunting Death Eaters, but they've gone pretty quiet. We are stretched thin at the moment. There's a lot of tense and tired people around, which is never great for sensible decisions."
Ron took a sip before he continued. "There are some nervous people in the Ministry right now. They don't know what's going on with the muggles. There's rumours of war."
James and Hermione shared a glance.
"War? Ron? You're speaking as if people want to go to war?"
Ron nodded. "Robards and Kingsley are staunchly anti-war and trying to play it safe. They've tried to keep the information on the low down. But it has gotten out. The Ministry leaks like a sieve. Thank Merlin, the Daily Prophet hasn't got its hands on that information, yet."
He took a sip before he continued. "The powers that be are trying to keep the footprint low. Learn as much as they can so they can make the right decisions about what is to happen next. Most people don't want a war. But it certainly feels like there is one on the horizon."
James gave Hermione's hand a squeeze.
"James. I think we need to bring you in. There's a lot going on here. The muggle government is up to something and you are once again in the middle of everything. We need to get you in and get you debriefed so we can work out our next step. Then we can figure out what to do about this issue."
Ron had turned his full attention towards James.
"No."
Ron shook his head as if slapped. Even Hermione gave him a look of confusion.
"What?" Ron said.
"No." James said, flatly. "I'm not going in."
Ron was confused. "Well, why not?"
"I'm too exposed." He said as he turned back to Hermione.
She made eye contact with him and saw that look behind his eyes. That look that showed what he was thinking.
She frowned. But she nodded.
"Exposed?" Ron's temper was rising. "Can someone kindly explain what in Merlin's name is going on?"
James looked at Ron. "I go in, and MI5 gets a hold of those I – care about."
There was an unmistakable hitch in his voice where he had meant to say something else.
Ron pinched his nose in frustration. "We can protect them."
James shook his head. "No, you can't."
"James. We are wizards. I know you are still getting your head back around this, but we can actually protect them."
James shook his head again. "So, you will protect five muggle soldiers who have been responsible for the deaths of wizards. Five soldiers, plus their families?"
Ron nodded. But something passed over his face. Something he couldn't hide.
"Ron." Hermione spoke softly this time. It was a tough position, and she didn't know what the right decision was. She hated to get between them, to take sides, but she wouldn't let Peyton, Lucky and Lily be exposed. "You couldn't get me a security detail. How are you going to look after that many people?"
Ron looked at her and his eyes narrowed. "This is different."
"This is the same." James said. "Also, what am I supposed to tell them? These are men who have sworn allegiance to the Crown. To defend the realm. Protect the United Kingdom at any and all cost. These are men who could easily be convinced that magic and wizards are a threat to everything they are sworn to defend. And you think they will betray all their oaths and suddenly work for your mob?"
Ron's hand played with his wand. "James. Be reasonable. Hermione has told you who you are and what you mean to all of wizard kind right? You being alive could be a beacon of hope for us. It will help us. It might actually help bring us back from the brink of war."
James just looked at him.
His voice had gone quiet. Even Hermione turned to look at him again.
"Who said anything about not helping you?"
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