Food raids, as I said, are simple compared to actually going after Death Eaters, but they still require some stealth. After all, we need to make sure we steal enough for everyone at the base, but not so much that we get caught – and I don't just mean getting caught red-handed. We once made the mistake of taking a bit too much from a local market, and the Death Eaters burned the entire place to the ground, (correctly) guessing that there was a large group sheltering nearby. Now, whoever's on food runs generally just grabs what they can carry, and we duplicate it later…if we can manage to get back to base unseen.

I mentioned earlier that food is scarce – that's because all area food supplies are now stored in warehouses, and the only people with 'official' access to these stores are the Death Eaters. The same also applies to potions ingredients, medical supplies, and other necessities – some of these can easily be transfigured, but others can't, hence the need for raiding parties. We also have to be careful to rotate the members of the raiding parties – for instance, Ginny and I have gotten quite good at stealing (my beaded bag has proven useful for far more than just hauling tents), but if the same two people are seen near the same warehouse too often, we risk the Death Eaters noticing and moving, or removing, those particular stores. With so many difficult variables already in place, having to find a new source of food is something we can't afford.

We try to be as inconspicuous as possible at all times, no matter where we're going. In these climes, keeping your head down is the best way to stay alive. The Death Eaters will stop and search anyone they deem suspicious, and they're not above searching in the most violating ways possible – Ginny made sure Travers could never use his hands again after he all but groped her during a stop-and-search.

Yes, that's right – GHRS members are no saints. We all learned the hard way that if we weren't willing to do what it took to survive, we wouldn't survive. Most of us keep multiple weapons on us at all times – I myself carry two small daggers along with my wand – and we train with those weapons whenever we have time. We try not to kill if we can help it, but this is war – if we ever want to be free again, the Death Eaters will have to go somehow, and until Voldemort is dead and we regain control of the government and Azkaban prison, we don't have many options.

"Shall we try near Westminster today?" Ginny asks. I nod. The Westminster storage facility is a bit trickier than some of the others, but it's fairly close to our base and we haven't been there in a while. Always best to rotate.

The Tube, interestingly enough, is still in operation – while the Death Eaters normally have no use for Muggle contraptions, they've realized its usefulness when it comes to moving mass quantities of…well, anything, really, and they've kept it open. It also keeps people off the streets – all of the restrictions on who comes and goes mean that London still has a fairly sizable population, and the streets get clogged very quickly when there's no other way around. The major downside, though, is that there are almost always lower-level Death Eaters stationed somewhere along the lines, performing random searches as they see fit. As we obviously can't afford to get caught, we only take the Tube when absolutely necessary, and certainly not on something like a food raid. Apparition is also out – the last thing we want is to Apparate in the vicinity of a Death Eater. They always search witches and wizards more thoroughly than Muggles in hopes of catching GHRS members, so we do our best to avoid those situations by being as discreet as possible. As a result, we do a lot of walking (or sneaking, as it were), which can be tiring but also means we're in fantastic shape, all things considered.

Ginny and I make good time and are soon staring at what used to be the Houses of Parliament. Unlike many of London's buildings, this one still stands, but only because it's now Death Eater HQ – no doubt Voldemort found it amusing to overthrow the British government and then replace it with his own. After all, there are still plenty of Muggles around, and they recognize the Houses of Parliament as a government building. Best not to confuse the lesser beings, as it were. (Please do note my sarcasm – if you haven't yet figured out that I want Voldemort and his minions six feet under ASAP, something's wrong.)

Anyway, the Houses of Parliament still stand, as does Westminster Abbey. I'm not sure why – perhaps even the Death Eaters won't touch houses of worship, or perhaps the rumors are true and some of the people buried there really did have magical blood – but regardless of the reason, I'm glad. The beautiful old cathedral had me stunned speechless the first time I visited as a child, and its majesty never faded on subsequent trips. I've never been a particularly religious person, but the sight of the abbey still standing strong is comforting, nonetheless.

Our destination is the warehouse just down the street from Westminster Abbey, a building that used to house several businesses, restaurants, and the like but now just serves as storage. Ginny and I stroll as nonchalantly as we can through the square leading to the cathedral, doing our best to look like nothing more than two friends out for a walk. In most instances, this would be a serious red flag for patrolling Death Eaters – in this climate, you keep your head down and get to your destination as quickly as possible – but there are still some iconic landmarks that people can't help but slow down and appreciate when they pass, and Westminster Abbey is one of them. We're not the only ones admiring the centuries-old structure, and so it's fairly easy to slip through the crowd, sparse though it may be, and around the far corner of the church into a little nook that has proven the perfect hiding place. From here, we can easily see most of the warehouse's major entrances and exits, including any Death Eaters standing guard, but they can't see us.

"Crabbe and Goyle Seniors," Ginny murmurs, her keen eyes scanning the street. "Clearly they couldn't care less about this place today."

"I wonder why?" I reply, frowning slightly. The Westminster warehouse is a major storage site, one of the biggest in central London…and yet it's being guarded by two people who can barely tell up from down? Nor do we see any other Death Eaters about. We – or anyone else, for that matter – could just walk right through the front door and help ourselves. Something doesn't seem right.

"Is there something important going on today that we missed?" Ginny asks. It's only because I know her so well that I detect the slight hint of trepidation in her question, and for good reason – intelligence is everything, and if we've somehow missed something, the consequences could be deadly. But just as quickly, the answer comes to me, and I relax.

"It's the first of September," I say, inwardly berating myself for not remembering sooner. That damn countdown, for one thing, and it's not the first time we've run into this situation before.

"They've all gone north, then," Ginny concludes. I nod in agreement. Every September first since this whole mess began, Voldemort has somehow thought that we would try to retake Hogwarts and has sent the brunt of his forces there. That's not to say that he's left London unguarded, of course – we still can't go more than a few blocks without seeing another patrol – but all the big names will be either at Hogwarts or Kings Cross station. Logically, nothing Hogwarts-related is more likely to happen today than any other day, but Voldemort has gone so far off the rails in terms of paranoia that 'logic' doesn't occur to him anymore. It's one of our few advantages, and we need to make the most of it.

"Cover up, then to the hatch on the right side of the building," I direct. We still have to be careful – we can't afford for this storage facility to close – but simple Disillusionment and Notice-Me-Not Charms will suffice against these two. Ginny and I are soon tucked into the alleyway along the side of the warehouse, Ginny keeping watch while I pry open the grille. A quick Engorgio to make the entrance a little bigger, and we're in.

The warehouse is dimly lit, but not so much that we can't easily see, and we scan the room, both to observe its contents and double check that no one else is here, even though Hominem revelio has already shown the place to be empty.

"Stay off the floor," Ginny reminds me, even though I know this already. The Death Eaters love a good Caterwauling charm, and the warehouses are loaded with them – their immense lack of creativity, however, means that the charm only goes off if the intruder actually touches the floor. Meals were a bit touch and go for a while until we figured that one out, but once we had…well, the warehouse just became a giant play structure.

We split up, Ginny going left while I go right in search of food. Climbing crates is easy when you're as fit as we are, and the warehouse seems extra stocked today – maybe there is something special going on. 'Special' usually means some big-name Death Eater will be in the area soon, and I make a mental note to discuss this with the team when we return. Big-name Death Eaters usually mean big-time trouble. Meanwhile, though, I set to work opening crates as quickly and quietly as I can, stealing one or two items from each and storing them in my beaded bag.

"Here we go," Ginny whispers as she returns to my side, her arms laden with provisions. We add them to my bag, make sure the last crate I'd opened is properly resealed, and slowly creep toward our exit. We're almost there when the unmistakable sound of a door opening echoes through the space.

"Shite!" Ginny hisses. We dive behind the nearest crate, wondering if our easy in-and-out just went down the drain. If we've overlooked a redistribution day and these crates are about to be moved…

"Fucking hell, that bugger don't do things by halves, do 'e?" The sound of a loud smack echoes through the room. "Ow! The fuck was that for?"

"You wanna be caught talking shit about Lucius Malfoy?" a second voice snaps. My whole body tenses at that. Lucius Malfoy? Shit. "Bleeding moron."

"Weren't talking shit," the first voice insists. "Always more work when Malfoy's around."

"And that's talking shit," the second voice says. "Shut up and do as you're told."

"An' why should I? We already know it's all 'ere. Why should I do anything special for Lucius Malfoy? 'Is good-for-nuthin' twat of a son got mine killed!"

Ah, so that clears it up – speaker number one must be Crabbe Sr., then, and speaker two is Goyle. Vincent Crabbe is the only junior Death Eater I know of who met his end in a situation involving Draco Malfoy.

"That was his kid," Goyle says dismissively. "And besides, the little shit got what he deserved, Lucius made sure of that. None more loyal to our Lord than Lucius. Now, if you wanna be part of this, shut up and get to work." Crabbe grumbles something under his breath but ultimately grabs a clipboard off a hook and gets to work.

"Now," Ginny whispers. I nod, and we silently crawl our way toward the exit, stopping every few feet to make sure that the sudden intruders are still thoroughly occupied and haven't heard or seen us. Neither of us dares to breathe until we're back in the alleyway and the grille is sealed once more.

"Lucius Malfoy," Ginny groans. "Bloody fucking hell."

I couldn't agree more.