Chapter Eleven: Para Bellum

            Despite her familiarity with Hogsmeade or the countless happy memories surrounding the village, Erised still felt out of place here. Here people shuffled in and out of the stores and smiled at each other. They knew each other by name, and the latest gossip was the biggest thing on everyone's mind. She felt happy here, fulfilled and at peace with no thoughts of Becka Stallens or Saint Michael. Here, both personas were merely bad dreams that she could dismiss easily. She now understood why Dumbledore had kept Severus here. It was to remind him that there were some things (like this common, simple life) that were worth fighting for. To remind him that after all his sins, he was still human.

She, on the other hand, had never been human. She was never supposed to lose faith and therefore redemption was not hers to ask for. Only Dumbledore and Diego thought otherwise- but such faith was for humans.

And it was best not to dwell on the impossible.

She tugged on her brown leather gloves and straightened the coat on her small frame. The Headmaster always kept a room and wardrobe waiting for her at Hogwarts for times like this when she needed to recuperate from the hell of her life. This outfit was her favorite, a green and silver dress suit that she lovingly called 'her Slytherin robes.' Before Voldemort's return, she use to daydream that this was going to be the outfit she wore when she met Severus again.

No, don't think about it…

"Armsman Stallens?"

Don't make a sound…

"Armsman Stallens?"

Erised shut her eyes and ignored the voice. "Not today, I'm not."

"Then perhaps I should be asking for Saint Michael."

She stopped, and laid her hand over the wand.  Behind her was a boy there who couldn't be more then twenty but had that wild-eyed look she knew all to well. A werewolf, but one too young to rank high enough to know her true identity or have done business with her before. "I'm going to give you three minutes to walk away."

"Remove your hand from the wand." He said softly. "I'm eighteen, in full health and stronger. You're an old, drunk, crippled information dealer. Do you want to dance and see which of these happy little civilians suffer for it?"

Ari glanced around and smiled softly at the old lady who thought she was Dumbledore's 'on the side' girlfriend. She looked back at the boy. "What's your name, boy?"

"Eddie." 

"I'll remember that now what do you have to say?"

            "I've been told to notify you that the Black Prince has made the first move and wants to thank you for the information that helped make it possible. He hopes that you two can continue to do business together, and to that end as a sign of good will, he has helped you with your marital problems." Eddie had a cocky smile as he spoke to her. Eddie bowed gently and turned to walk away as easily as he had appeared.

            Erised swallowed hard and made a beeline for the pet store. She had to get an Owl to Dumbledore before news reached him through other means.

            Then, she had to find Diego.

           

"Come on, Jamie! Give us a smile!" Councilman Dimitri Byron called softly.

            Across the room, Jamie Kahle gripped her crutches harder and glared at him. She had been in therapy for months now and was doing better then anyone had predicted. Now all that was needed for her to be discharged and return to her duty at the IWC was for her to walk on her own. Easier said then done.

            And during all the time she was in the hospital, Byron had been there to visit her every free chance he got.

            "Don't," Jamie hissed over the pain. "Give me your coy remarks, Dimitri I'm not in the mood."

            He walked half way across the room and smirked. He bowed slightly and looked up. "If you want me to stop, Madam Ambassador, you're going to have to come and make me stop."

            "Fine, then I will." She determined.

Byron watched with ill-concealed joy and pride as Jamie let go of the crutches and wobbled towards him. The steps were clumsy and uneven and looked like she was about to fall twice but he never moved to help her. He knew she would never forgive him for that. She walked straight towards him, and fell into his arms.

Their faces were so close together she could feel his breath on her face. Their eyes met for a moment before Bryon leaned forward to kiss her. Jamie closed her eyes, waiting.

"Councilman Bryon?"

            Bryon opened his eyes, grunted angrily and turned towards the person at the doorway. It was an IWC herald, with a bodyguard behind him. "Yes, what is it?"

            "Councilman Byron if you would come with us, we need to move you to a secure location."

            "Secure location?" He frowned, easing Jamie towards her bed. "What's going on?"

            "We need to move you, sir."

            "I demand to know what's going on!" He shouted, ripping his arm from the bodyguard's grasp.

            The herald nodded the guard back. "It's standard procedure, sir. In case the Minister of Magic is killed, his deputy takes the position. If death is a result of an attack he is moved to a secure location with his war council to discuss the current threat."

            "What are you talking about? What happened to Fudge?"

            "They're dead, sir." The herald said passively, almost in a bored voice. He handed Byron a file folder, where the names of fallen Ministers and their aides were hastily compiled. "The Ministry was in general assembly when there was an attack, there was one survivor, a reporter."

            "Dear god," Jamie whispered beside him, "Bryon…"

            "Who is leading the country?" Bryon whispered after a long second. "Who's in charge now?"

            "You are, sir."

            "Ministers' aides and successors are being alerted across England, sir." The herald replied.

            Just like that, Dimitri Bryon became the new leader of England. He turned away from the herald, and the bodyguard. He walked towards the windows and gazed out into the morning sun. He watched the hospital workers and patients mill around. Their biggest concern in the world was that of healing and helping those heal.

            And now, suddenly, with one word from an errand boy, he was the leader of a nation besieged.

"Men at times are masters of their fates…" He whispered under his breath. He closed his eyes, exhaling as a commoner for the last time and drawing breath now as a leader. "Contact the IWC, tell them Ambassador Kahle is with me."

            "Yes Minister." The herald announced, he turned to leave but Byron called him back.

            "And contact Hecate Compound, tell them" He inhaled. "Have their liaison waiting for me at this 'secured location.'"

            "It's already arranged."

            "What does this mean, Dimitri?" Jamie asked, wrapping her arm around his as the guards escorted them out of the hospital room.

            He looked at her; "It means this all ends soon."

            The owl was small in comparison to other species but it was a fierce little creature, diving straight into the Headmaster's office and ousting Fawkes from his place by Dumbledore's right hand. It had a tawny coat with strong amber eyes and instantly began to claw at Dumbledore's arm, eager to be released from his burden.

"Friend of yours?" Gideon Mallory asked half amused, from over the rim of the files he was reading aloud to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore looked over the bird and replied softly. "I've never seen him before."

Dumbledore took the letter and read over it twice before finding the words to speak, "Gideon, I think you better get back to London."

"What's wrong, Albus?"

"Something's happened. Mordred has acted."

Gideon was on his feet, his hand over wand and voice composed. "Do you know how?"

"Not yet, but go…Fudge will need you."

Gideon was out of the door before he had finished that sentence. Dumbledore stood and walked to the window, staring out unto his school grounds. Despite the December chill, the students were milling around the grounds, busying themselves with daily life. And for what was not the first time since she died, Dumbledore whispered Victoria's name under his breath and in the next breath, he prayed for Severus.

His Potions Master, and others like him were being thrown into a war they were hardly prepared for. Gideon, Severus, and other front line troops were tired of war, and sick from the consequences. Their weariness made them weak, and that weakness would be exploited by this new, younger generation of adversaries.

Mordred wasn't marred by heartache and his youth and zeal would inspire others, and even if he alienated the older generation of Death Eaters- their children would listen to him. Dumbledore found himself thinking of Draco and turning his attention to his Slytherin students. He spotted a group huddled near the lakeshore, chatting among themselves, seemingly content to ignore the lone snake sitting a few feet away from them, staring into the water.

 Angelo Malone, the stepchild of the great Eoin Malone, was inheritor of a dubious legacy, for if Mordred was destined by his father to Voldemort's Prince, Angelo was destined to become the Dark Lord's prized servant.  

It was because of this, Amissa kept a close eye on the boy, as if waiting for this Death Eater in training to make his move. Dumbledore knew full well of Amissa's attentions to the boy, but Severus trusted Angelo to move past that looming fate and make his own destiny, just as Albus trusted his old Potions Master to be more then what he thought he could be. Snape's greatest strength lied not in his prowess as a strategist or a fighter, but in his ability to believe in a cause despite every odd stacked against him. Snape would finally have to come into his own in this battle and become the leader and Auror he was always meant to be.

 "I was having the most beautiful dream…I was on a beach with lots of beautiful, half naked women who had no other purpose then to make me…" Severus moaned as the Kaga entered his room and pulled him from his bed. The woman pushed a cloak at him that Snape threw over his t-shirt and pants. He wiped the sleep from his eyes, and shook his head to free himself from the slumber. "Who are you and what are you doing in my bedroom?"

            The Kaga was little more then a child. She was fourteen by Snape's best guess, and after years of seeing puberty-racked girls hide or display their assets, he was (sadly) an expert. "Hart, and I'm escorting you to a secure location. Follow me."

            "Hello Hart, now where and why?" Snape said, pleasantly. He had no intentions of making this guard even more uncertain then she was, especially considering the wand she had aimed at anything that moved.
            "Please just follow me, sir." She said, dragging him to the fireplace. She threw powder into the flames and demanded, "Arsan Duolai!"

            "…the hell?" Snape mumbled, before getting that retching feeling in the pit of his stomach as he was pulled from cold night into the bright, sun filled hall that was alive with the sounds of people screaming to each other in English, Gaelic and Welsh. He ducked away from the window. "Bloody hell, Hart, must you take where the sun is shining!"

            "I see you still aren't a morning person, even after all this time."

            "…I know that voice. That's Satan's voice…Chaim!"

            "It's good to know you remember me but I always thought that was your name." Chaim Drame said, walking to him with the same cocky smile that used to annoy the hell out of Snape. He was still sickeningly handsome. His dark brown skin was molded perfectly to his frame while his gentle round face, nestled under a crown of honey colored curls, made his golden eyes still gleamed with political savvy. The twenty-year time gap didn't seem to have changed that. As he made his way to Snape, two other men followed him in suit, probably his aides.

Now, maybe because of the memories Chaim invoked or just the loneliness of being a stranger in an unfamiliar Hecate and finding a familiar face, Snape took some odd comfort from seeing Chaim again.

            Of course, a lot could be said about feeling comfortable when meeting your once rival in your pajamas.

            "Hart, Fay has just assigned you to Councilman Byron. He's with Mallory in the East Gardens."

            Hart nodded and disappeared from Snape's side as quickly as she had appeared. Snape looked at Chaim, "Why is Dimitri Byron here?" He deadpanned, turning around and watching people mill around him, apparently on very important business. "And while we're at it, where is here?"

            "Grant, why don't you take that?" Drame said, turning to the taller of the two aides. He bowed to Snape. "Given our past, I doubt Armsman, excuse me, Professor Snape would want me to help." 

"Chaim, wait…where am I?"

"South Africa, sir."

"And why is Bryon here?"

"I can assure you, sir, that Grant will fill you in on all you need to know…"

"Stop calling me 'sir,' Chaim, it's kind of spooky."

            Chaim smirked at him. "I know. That's half the reason I do it. Now, if you'll forgive me, Erised has left something very important in my care and I want to attend to it."

Snape felt a tremor of fear and awe rise up inside of him. "Wait, Erised's here? Let me see her! Drame, wait…"

"This isn't the time to ask about old girlfriends, Grunt." Spoke the shorter of the aides left behind.

Snape turned at the name Grunt, but the cocky look faded when he saw who was speaking. "As I live and breath; Alonzo Lee. You bastard, I thought you would have been dead by now."

Alonzo Lee merely nodded, before motioning for Snape to follow. "Come on, we need to get you in uniform, and back with your squad. The new Minister is being sworn in as we speak and Hawke is already meeting with the Council and the IWC representative."

"What's happened?"

"Haven't you heard? There's a war that's started."