Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling or Timothy Zahn.
In her apartment in London, Hermione practices her lightwand training, as Harry stands nearby. Too slow to deflect a blast from the remote, Hermione is struck.
Hermione. O!
Harry. You're not giving the Magic enough control. You have to . . . Wait a minute.
Using his magic, Harry telekinetically puts the remote on pause.
Hermione. I'm giving it all the control I can. I just don't have the proper techniques down yet. Or else I just wasn't cut out for this sort of fighting.
Harry. You can learn it. I learned it, and I never had any of that self-defense training you got when you were growing up in Scotland.
Hermione. Maybe that's the problem. Maybe all those old fighting reflexes are getting in my way
Harry. I suppose that's possible. In that case, the sooner you start unlearning them, the better. Now: ready . . .
The door buzzes.
Hermione. It's Ron.
Hermione deactivates her lightwand.
Come in.
Enter Ron.
Ron. Hello. How's the lesson going?
Harry. Not bad.
Hermione. Don't ask. What's wrong?
Ron. The Ministry. They just pulled a three-prong hit-and-fade on three regions in the Nimbus region. Some place called Avalon and two unpronounceable ones.
Harry. Three at once. Getting pretty bold, aren't they?
Hermione. That seems par for them these days. They're up to something, Ron. I can feel it. Something big, something dangerous. But I can't for the life of me figure out what it could be.
Ron. Yeah, Murcus has been saying the same thing. Problem is he's got nothing to back it up. Except for the style and tactics, this is all pretty much the same rear-guard harassment the Ministry's been pulling for probably the last year and a half.
Hermione. I know. But don't sell Murcus short. He's got good military instincts. No matter what certain other people say.
Ron. Hey, sweetheart, I'm on your side. Remember?
Hermione. [smiles] Sorry. How bad was the damage?
Ron. [shrugs] Not nearly as bad as it could have been. Especially considering that they hit each place with four Ministry cruisers. But all three regions are pretty shook up.
Hermione. I can imagine. Let me guess: Millicent Bagnold wants me to go out there and assure them that the Wizards' Council really is able and willing to protect them.
Ron. How did you guess? Hagrid's getting the Anglia prepped now.
Harry. You're not going alone, are you? After Nottingham . . .
Ron. Oh, don't worry. We're not going to be sitting ducks this time. There's a twenty-ship convoy going out to assess the damage, plus Neville and Rogue Squadron. It will be safe enough.
Harry. That's what we said about Nottingham, too. I'd better come along.
Ron glances at Hermione.
Ron. Well, actually . . . you can't.
Harry. [frowns] Why not?
Hermione. Because the Rougarou don't like Aurors.
Ron. The story is that some of their Aurors went bad during the Wizarding Wars and really mangled things before they were stopped . . . or so Millicent Bagnold says.
Hermione. She's right. We were still getting echoes of the whole fiasco in the Wizengamot when I was serving there. It wasn't just Avalon, either. Some of those Dark wizards escaped and made trouble all throughout the Nimbus region. One of them even got as far as Mould-on-the-Would before he was caught.
Harry. Mould-on-the-Would? When was that?
Hermione. Thirty . . . thirty-five years ago. Why?
Harry shakes his head.
Harry. No reason.
Ron. Come on. We can discuss history later. The sooner we get going, the sooner we can get this over with.
Hermione. Right. I'll get my travel bag and give Parvati some instructions. Meet you at the ship.
Exit Hermione.
Harry. I don't like it.
Ron. Don't worry. She'll be safe. Look, I know how protective you're feeling toward her these days. But she can't always have her big brother standing over her.
Harry. Actually, we've never figured out which of us is older.
Ron. Whatever. The best thing you can do for her right now is what you're already doing. You make her an Auror, and she'll be able to handle anything the Ministry can throw at her.
Harry. I suppose so.
Ron. As long as Hagrid and me are with her, that is. See you when we get back.
Harry. Be careful.
Ron. [smiles] Hey. It's me.
Exit Ron.
Harry. [aside] I'm not a teacher.
Harry flips the remote back on and activates his lightwand. As an Auror Knight, he is able to effortlessly deflect each and every blast. After twenty minutes, Harry deactivates his lightwand.
Removing his transmitter, Harry contacts the spaceport.
This is Potter. I would like my Firebolt prepped for launch in one hour.
Fourth Officer's Voice. Yes, sir. We'll need you to send over your messenger droid first.
Harry. Right. [aside] I've refused to let them wipe the Firebolt's memory every few months, as per standard procedure. The inevitable result was that the Firebolt has effectively molded itself around Hedwig's unique personality, so much so that the relationship is almost up to true droid counterpart level. It makes for excellent operational speed and efficiency. Unfortunately, it also means that none of the maintenance computers can talk to the Firebolt anymore. [to Fourth Officer] I'll have him there in a few minutes.
Fourth Officer's Voice. Yes, sir.
Harry breaks off the connection.
Harry. [aside] Why am I doing this, I wonder. Surely, Albus's presence will no longer be around for me to talk to. But then, perhaps it will. . . .
Exit Harry.
