Chapter Forty-Nine: A Friend's Fury

"There can be no doubt?"

"None," Argus Filch replied, an expression of stern worry on his face. "The Tyler brothers are certain the note is in Peter Pettigrew's handwriting." Minerva frowned.

"Are they sure?"

"We are certain," Smokey announced, striding solemnly into the Deputy Headmistress' office. "The note was written with a magical prosthese hand of Dark origin, which we know Pettigrew possesses by the testimony of several reliables."

"Reliables?"

"Reliable witnesses. We've also performed several identification charms, as well as done quite a few Muggle forensic tests down in Snape's laboratory. There can be no question that the Dark is responsible."

"Alright." The Gryffindor professor sighed. "Argus, would you get Filius and the Tylers in here, as well as Poppy?"

"All four of the others?" Smokey inquired.

"Yes."

"Just checking. You may want to have Madam Pomfrey keep a sedative by for Cassie, though, once she gets back from her errand with the Headmaster." The redhaired Auror scratched his head. "She's railing for Entebbe protocol on the record, but on or off she's loaded for bear."

"Entebbe protocol?" Filch asked.

"The Raid on Entebbe," Minerva explained. "Some Muggle hostages were forcibly retrieved from terrorist captors in the seventies."

"Was that the Americans?"

"Tougher. The Israelis." Smokey frowned. "I'm afraid the United Coventry has already received word of this, as has the President." Argus gasped audibly and Smokey nodded. "Your Minister, to put it quite bluntly, may be in some deep shit soon."

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"Headmaster, we can't do this. You can't print a word without Ministry approval of the information, and they'll block it because of the panic factor." Penelope Clearwater had chosen the field of journalism over bureaucracy, but even as a quill squeaker her loyalties were in constant question. "I'll write it, but I can't get it into print."

"What happened to freedom of speech? Of the presses?" Cass cried. Dumbledore had brought her along for reasons unknown, but the Prophet reporter got the distinct impression it was for good-cop, bad-cop purposes. If ever there was a loose cannon, it was the American. "Do you mean to tell me that whacko's suppressing it?"

"I'm afraid so," Penelope admitted, looking over the American's shoulder to who had just entered. "Minister Fudge simply won't allow incendiary news like that."

"I certainly won't!" the blustery little bureaucrat announced, stomping in.

"You won't allow the truth to be published, even if it would increase the chances of the hostage being returned safely?" Dumbledore asked, knowing the answer already.

"Not if it will cause a panic!"

"Then I will!" With swift, bold movements, Cass seized a layout print, tore the Quidditch headline off, and swiping Penelope's quill, wrote 'Hermione Granger Kidnapped By Voldemort!' in her own rake-rail printing across the page below the banner. Even as Fudge protested, she shoved it into the press, cast the charm one-handed, and pulled the press bell's rope. Immediately, magic-driven cogs and gears sprung to life. "Extra, extra," she announced sarcastically, as each and every one of the Prophet's owls prepared to depart with the fresh print run.

"I hereby place you under arrest for direct defiance of the Minister of Magic!"

"Cuff me, Corny," Cass replied, showing Fudge both of her fists, palms inward, with exactly two fingers of her ten pointing heavenward. It should be remarked, to Ms. Clearwater's honor, that the reporter didn't quite restrain a loud guffaw at this display.

"Cornelius Fudge!" a thundering voice announced. Cass Tyler's eyes went wide and she immediately snapped to military attention and saluted.

The newly elected President of the United Wizards' States of America, together with the Chairperson of the United Coventry, had entered the newsroom. Secret Service Aurors, in robes not unlike Professor Snape's, flanked out and secured the premises as the Chairperson continued:

"I have just heard a direct confession to a war crime," she announced. "Madam President, will you bear witness?"

"I will. Minister Fudge is impuning freedom of the press and endangering a hostage of the enemy."

"Then you are hereby under arrest, by authority of the United Coventry, and placed in the custody of the United States." The willowy blonde Chairperson gestured, and the Aurors closed in on Fudge. "You are also stripped of your post, as Britain is under Aurory Militia rule as of noon today."

"It's eleven-forty-five," the President pointed out with a smirk.

"Close enough." As Fudge was dragged off, the Chairperson stepped closer to Cass, a smile growing on her face. "Lieutenant Tyler, I presume."

"Madam Chairperson."

"At ease, Lieutenant. And you must be Albus Dumbledore." The Chairperson offered a hand to the bearded man. "It's an honor to meet you at last."

"The pleasure is mine, Madam Chairperson."

"Would it be cruel for me to ask you to serve temporarily as Minister of Magic for Great Britain?" the Chairperson asked ingenuously, "just so the President here doesn't have to maintain military rule too long? I'm sure you could still be Headmaster of Hogwarts."

"If you would like, Headmaster, I have my nation's finest on alert for possible Entebbe protocol." The President, an attractive African-American woman with intricately braided hair, smiled wryly and raised an eyebrow at Cass. "I trust that the Aurors already in your service are…behaving themselves?"

"More or less," Dumbledore replied. "As reticent as I am to lead Britain in its' entirety, I do fear I may have to accept your kind offer, Madam Chairperson."

"You mistake the situation, Minister," the Chairperson explained, smiling sadly. "It was not an offer, but a supplication. The Ministry has all but alienated the United Coventry by their recent actions, and were it not for yourself and Amelia Bones, there might have been some serious hell to pay."

"We were looking at the 1939 Accords going back into effect," the President added.

"Which would mean multi-continental involvement in your war-"

"Not to mention the Muggle misinformation risks-"

"And the bombing threat-"

"You've just ended World War Three by saying 'yeah.'" It was bizarre. The Chairperson and President finished sentences like the Weasley twins. The President gestured to Penelope. "Are you getting all of this? Historical, and all, plus it'll make your career." She was not being sarcastic, and Penelope nodded, frantically splattering a parchment as she took down every word. Cass, meanwhile, was still in military pose.

"Permission to speak."

"Yes, Lieutenant?" the officials repiled in unison.

"Officer requests permission to serve in a Class 219 hostage exchange after parley with the enemy."

"Position requested?"

"Officer requests permission to exchange oneself."

"Denied. The officer is of too senior rank."

"Madam President, in accordance with Code 72-A16, chapter seven, anyone up to a commander may be offered in a Class 219."

"Lieutenant, you distinguished yourself in the defense of your commanding officer against a surprise attack which dealt you a grievous wound. In recognition of your valor and devotion to your assignment, I am hereby promoting you to the rank of colonel."

"What?!"

"It's oak leaves for you, Cassie," the President explained informally with a grin. "Knew you'd get 'em someday."

"You can't do this to me!"

"I could have made you a single-star general for what you did, plus called you home to serve in my Cabinet. In case you haven't been following anything but the Penguins' scores, my Secretary of State just punked out on me."

"I wonder why," Cass retorted bitterly.

"The pro-choice issue and whether cannabis should be legal. Conservative cockhead. How's John doing?"

"He's good." The Yank had the distinct look of being Not Pleased by her promotion and the President leaned over and hugged her.

"Hey, Cassie, don't be so pissed. Congress voted you this one. You deserve it."

"You can still fight Moldy-Voldy, as you so characteristically dubbed the Dark Lord in your last letter," the Chairperson chimed in. "You just can't go swapping yourself for some kid and getting killed during a half-assed injection maneuver."

"'Some kid' is capable of almost any Class Twelve potion without texts! She's not only crucial; she's a broken arrow! What kind of a quarter-wit wouldn't trade me for her?"

"You forget that you yourself are a broken arrow if captured, Cassie," the Chairperson reminded, "and not just for Britain. You have military secrets in your head that could cause reverses of every wartime victory from 1945 to 1789."

"I'd love to see Voldemort pry them out!"

"I wouldn't. Your Legilimency may be good enough to earn you a Captaincy at sixteen, but you're forgetting you can barely Occlude with minimal emotional pressure tactics, not to mention you have the worst tendency to take every offense to your side so absolutely and totally to heart that you risk yourself and the big picture on senseless moth missions!"

"Are you saying that getting her back is senseless?"

"It's commendable to be brave and even more so to be dedicated, but you can't sweep in like the wrath of God all the time, Cassie," the Chairperson said quietly. "Look what happened in Tennessee." Cass was quiet for a long moment. Her record followed her everywhere. "Now, we will bring her back safely, but we will not risk more than we have to in order to do so."

"Some things are worth risking everything," Cass whispered. "Can you imagine what those bastards are like to their hostages?"

"I know Severus can, Cassandra," Dumbledore cleaned his spectacles with a handkerchief, letting Cass see the brightness of unshed tears in his wise, normally twinkling eyes. "To attempt rescue right now, no matter how cleverly contrived or how boldly executed, would put poor Hermione in more danger than ever. You will not sit idle in this, but you will not cause the Death Eaters to kill their hostage. You know they would."

Finally Cass nodded, silently battling the fury within for a moment before rechanneling it to new energy that set her eyes afire.

"What is my assignment?"

"Protect the students," Dumbledore instructed. "Protect them from Dark wizards and mind control. Teach them to defend themselves, not just from spells, but from lies and bigotry. If they are in danger, rescue them. I ask this most vital task of you, to be your foremost concern, for your loyalty and courage are equal to what I dare not ask another. Will you serve the Order of the Phoenix thus?"

"To even beyond the grave."

"It is no less than I ask of your brother, Cassandra. You will still be fighting hard, even if you are within Hogwarts."

As Cass Tyler accepted her task, she gave no thought as to whether Dumbledore meant Severus or Draco, for she assumed her secret was still just that. In the end, however, it didn't matter, for the defense of the next generation's minds fell to more than one lone werewolf or one black-robed professor.

The War had truly begun in earnest.

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"I've never used one."

"Seen one used?" The elder of the two black-haired wizards shook his head, while the younger nodded. John indicated the diagram he had drawn for Severus. "You hold this part and squeeze the trigger to fire it. Harry, you're familiar with firearms?"

"My cousin had some toy ones, and I've seen them on telly."

"Alright. We'll begin with toy ones, actually." The redhaired werewolf, clad in a black t-shirt that fit tightly and showed his star, opened a cardboard shoebox and drew out three metal pistols, handing one to each of his students. "On my count, squeeze the trigger. Never point it at yourself, Severus. One…"

The professor pointed the gun vaguely at the wall, while the student took careful aim.

"Two…"

The guns were light, clearly not real, with plastic fittings on the grips. In looking down the barrel, Severus knew they would not shoot anything from the solidly capped tube.

"Three!"

BANG!

Severus jumped easily a foot into the air. Harry at least had the grace not to laugh at him, though John smiled wryly.

"Cap pistols, Severus. They give a decent impression of the real article's noise. It's just as startling, but much louder, and you can feel the gun kick backward as it fires. Try again, on my count."

Three rings of caps apiece later, John opened a wooden box.

"Feel up to the real thing tonight?"

"Sure." Harry almost grinned.

"Alright." Severus was petrified.

"These are derringers, very small caliber. Less noise, less kick…kind of a diet gun, but they're still deadly." John motioned his trainees over. "Watch me load it." The front half of the gun seemed to hinge away, and the werewolf slid four tiny bullets into the chambers. "Here. Point them away from your feet, and keep your finger as far from the trigger as you can manage. Good." Harry loaded his easily and snapped the barrel back, but Severus realized his hands were shaking. "Calm down, Sev."

"What will we be shooting at?" To answer Harry's question, John opened a flat cardboard box and pulled out one of his own portraits, life-sized, depicting none other than Voldemort.

"Drawn from Severus' Pensieve image," the werewolf explained. "I got the eyes a bit wrong, but you get the idea."

"It's too good a likeness," Severus protested. "You should offer that to the Aurory, not mark it up with holes." John grinned and indicated the logo on the box:

'Martin's Copies, While-U-Wait, Open 24 Hours.'

"I have fifty-eight more Voldemorts in this box, and Cassie has twice that amount."

"What's she using them for?"

"She's teaching some others and brushing up. Once you've got the basics, you'll go to her for advanced marksmanship."

"Professor Cass uses a gun?" Harry looked astonished by this news. John nodded, the familiar look of affection in his eyes.

"She shoots better than most Muggle police, not to mention almost all of the Aurory. Cassie's been armed almost every day since the Yule Ball."

"Even to classes she brings a gun?" Severus was shocked. "Why didn't anyone notice?"

"Would most of the kids here have known what one was?" Cass shut the door behind her with her foot. She threw off her professors' robes and the chambray workshirt underneath, tossing them onto a chair. "This answer your question?"

"I thought one carried them at the hip."

"This is a shoulder harness, so people can't see it as easily."

"What's the other one?" Harry asked, looking at the two black straps that crisscrossed the werewolf's back. By way of reply, Cass drew a fierce-looking knife with a knuckle grip, serrated top and a chisel point. It was one of the most intimidating objects he'd seen since being in Borgin & Burke's as a second-year.

"You make your point quite vividly, love," John observed wryly, covering the armed hand with his own and kissing her. "No pun intended." For a moment, the pair remained close like that, the female Tyler's iron resolve towards war almost dropping for a second, but after the length of a breath they snapped back to business.

"Derringers?" Cass inquired, sheathing the knife. "You're holding it wrong, Sevvy."

"I thought the fingers went…"

"They do, but you're holding it wrong. I could disarm you in a second flat." Unbuckling her harnesses, Cass pulled on a black Kevlar vest. "Aim at me."

"But what if-?"

"S'bulletproof. Aim at me." Severus obeyed, only to have the gun popped out of his hand with a deft wrist movement. Before he could blink twice, Cass had the gun on him. "Do I make my point? Get a vest on while I unload this. You, too, Harry."

Harry and Severus had just gotten the vests over their heads when four deafening, staccato bangs interrupted them, only as loud as the caps, but still startling. They looked at the portrait of the enemy across the room and saw no change.

"Where were you aiming?" Harry asked. Wordlessly, Cass took down the picture and held it up to the window. The pupils of Voldemort's eyes had been replaced by bullet holes.

"Exactly where I hit."

"How did your marksmanship lesson go?" John asked.

"Ginny's already at multiple target run-bys. She's a natural. Blaise had a nasty ricochet when she missed Moldy-Voldy entirely, but she also had a decent fatality shot in her second clip. Ron's able to hit eight out of ten to the chest and six out of ten to the head. He's good, but Ginny's the best I've seen so far. Oh, and Neville's got nines on both head and chest."

"What caliber?"

"Ron and Neville are on 9mms and Blaise is still using the .5 trainer. Ginny's done three clips on the Remington .38 and one with my forty-five."

"Already?"

"John, the girl is a prodigy. I'm planning to owl Jeffy Feldman and see about a marksman scholarship into Corey Institute. She's that good."

"Ginny?" Harry smiled, despite being a bit surprised. "Cool."

"Don't you have to be pre-Aurory to enter the Institute?" Severus asked.

"Not if you have a recommendation from the Chairperson of the United Coventry and the President of the Wizarding States themselves, you don't. Ginny'd be great as an international Auror for the UC." Harry looked both confused and impressed by this observation.

"How do you get a recommendation from them?"

"Maureen and Joanne owe me big." Cass frowned.

"Excuse me, but are you referring to the leaders of the free world by their first names?" Severus almost laughed. "Do you know everyone?"

"Not everyone, but I do know them." As Cass unloaded Harry's gun, she smirked. "I know things about those two that'd send the religious right to the ammunition store."

"Were you Aurory school friends or something?"

"Same sorority, plus I bodyguarded for them awhile ago."

"What kinds of things?"

"Well, aside from the whole satin fetish thing, they each have a nasty tendency to-" Severus' eyes were wide.

"Satin fetish? How do you know-?"

"Sevvy, I was their bodyguard." Cass had the smirk of someone who is pointing out something startling to one who is simply not getting it. "They roomed in adjacent suites, surrounded by enough armed wizardry to take out a village, for six months, and not once did they ever sleep separately. Do you take my meaning?"

Both of the uninformed males were abjectly shocked.

"The rulers of the free world are lesbians?"

"And together, no less." As Harry and Severus tried to re-hinge their jaws, John grinned mischievously. "Incredibly romantic, don't you think?"

"Rita Skeeter would wet her pants with joy."

"And not just with glee over the exposè, either," Severus added with a shudder. "My dorm used to be close to hers in school."

"No wonder you have nightmares."

"Had," the professor sighed sadly. "They had gone, but…well, Albus is giving me Dreamless Sleep almost forcibly every night."

"You should take some, too, Cassie," John whispered. It was only then that Harry realized the Yank's dark circles were worse than he had ever seen. "It's been almost four days and you haven't slept the night once."

"Well, I'm working harder than before."

"Severus, I'll cut you a deal. You get my wife to sleep and I'll take over Harry's Occlumency." It was the first time John had ever shown anything but total affection, and the other men understood why completely.

"Deal," Severus agreed over Cass's protesting look. "I'm sorry, but he's right. You don't have a Headmaster meddling in your life, but you do have him."

"Just like you had her." The lean werewolf picked up her own gun and completely, utterly destroyed the target's face in three shots. "We'll get her back safely, Severus. I swear it. Harry, if it weren't for that prophecy, I'd do your job on that ridiculous snake bastard."

There was a long pause as the werewolf's fury ran down. Finally, Harry walked over and picked up the derringer from the table.

"I'd rather you teach me how to do it well."

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