The bell rang at the end of charms class. Hermione stood and silently started to pack up her books and papers. Around her, she was dimly aware of the rest of the class packing up and then filing out of the room with, as far as past experience went, a minimum of noise. Hermione hefted her bag and paused to nod a goodbye to Professor Flitwick. She needn't have bothered, as the Professor was merely a flash of tangled white hair disappearing behind the door of his office when Hermione looked up. She shrugged silently and turned to leave.
Outside, she joined the passing throng of students, only paying cursory attention to where she was heading. She had walked the route from charms to transfiguration so often over the years that her legs knew the way. Hermione's mind idled as she walked, consciously trying not to think. She passed through the corridor more or less unnoticed. Those that passed her by paid her no heed. On each it their faces, she saw the same hollow expression. Hermione knew the reason, it didn't require any level of genius to work it out; they were scared! Their thoughts all centred miles away, about 200 miles away to be precise…in Coventry. Two weeks ago it was a word, no more than the name of a city she had never visited, or even thought much about. Now to think of something else was all but impossible. What little information had been made public about the battle, and its aftermath, what was now being referred to as the Occupation, was sketchy, but it was still more than enough to make her stomach churn.
Hermione shivered, winter was setting in and making its presence felt. The air was really starting to get colder, but that wasn't the only reason she shivered. The atmosphere in the school seemed to be…heavy somehow. There was an almost tangible weight to the air, a heavy presence that spread through the corridors like a pervasive icy cloud. At its touch, joy evaporated, hope vanished. That fear didn't belong here, this place was supposed to be safe from it, but it was here nonetheless, and was now so omnipresent that Hermione honestly couldn't remember what it was like not to feel it bearing down on her. Nobody was beyond its reach, even Flitwick, normally so cheerful that he was a serious fire hazard even on the most sombre of days, now seemed detached and empty inside. The spark of joy was gone from his eyes, the music lost from his voice.
The blank faces continued to pass before her, amongst them Hermione recognised Hannah Abbot. Her head was bowed a little more than the others, an extra hunch to her shoulders as she headed to wherever she was going. Hermione felt a painful pang of pity for her. Hannah's brother Martin, her only sibling, was missing, presumed…well he was missing. There had been no word of or from him since Coventry had fallen. Hermione's mind couldn't come close to understanding what Hannah was going through, the grief, the uncertainty, the pain…maybe she just didn't want to. She remembered the feeling of outrage she had felt when she had heard his story, and that was bad enough. Martin was just a bystander, not in any way connected to either side in the battle. He was innocent…as if that mattered…and had been in the wrong place at the worst time imaginable. Still, Hannah hadn't skipped a class or missed an assignment. Hermione assumed that she was trying to be brave about it, after all, there was always hope…wasn't there? A lot of people were missing, but they couldn't all be dead…could they? A shudder ran through Hermione, a thought, emanating from a dark, cold spot in the back of her mind rang clear,
'They could be! Are you willing to put that past Voldemort?'
The name sent a second shudder through her. Ye gods, she cursed herself silently, why couldn't she even think his name without fear? Hermione shook her head and pushed the question aside for another time. Hannah's hope, however flimsy, was genuine. According to the Daily Prophet reports, there were well over a hundred people still unaccounted for after the assault. Their fate was not known, the paper had stressed this, and they had stressed that no conclusion or supposition as to their fate could be made at this point. The Minister of Magic himself had written several editorials, appealing for calm, for unity, for strength in the face of this crisis.
Hermione turned a corner and checked her pace so as not to collide with the people in front of her on the stairs as she climbed. What the papers hadn't said, she mused, was what was being done about it. What plans did the Ministry have underway to determine the fate of the missing people? Were they planning to strike back, and if so, how soon? Ok, Hermione knew that even, or perhaps especially, if the Ministry was planning on retaking the city, they certainly wouldn't be fool enough to advertise their intentions in the paper. And it was true that, if the mood of the students in the school was any indication, the more immediate reaction shared by the majority of the wizarding population was one of panic, not one of outrage. They were seeking shelter, not revenge. The Minister was merely trying to give them what they wanted, placating them in a barely concealed but nonetheless desperate attempt to prevent mass panic.
Hermione reached the corridor outside the Transfiguration classroom and paused. The other students in the class were gathered outside the door so she assumed that it was locked or that the previous class hadn't finished. This was not uncommon; Professor McGonagall had a tendency to regard such things as the end of class bell as distracting irritants that attempted to separate her from her classes at inconvenient times. Deciding not to bother to even try to talk to any of the other students, Hermione instead turned her attention to the window, and the world outside.
The vast expanse of the Forbidden Forest stretched into the distance beneath her. The wind blowing through the canopy of trees made the forest ripple and heave like a great, mottled green sea. Movement at the edge of the trees caught Hermione's attention. She looked down as Hagrid emerged into the light, bundling his massive coat about him against the wind. It occurred to her that she hadn't spoken to Hagrid in months…things seemed to keep cropping up to get in the way. What business did he have in the forest today? Had he bought a new pet that he was trying to hide? Or had he found another bizarre relative to keep Grawp company? Hermione smiled as she reminisced about the days when those sorts of questions would have consumed her. She watched as Hagrid took a couple of steps into the open, then paused and looked back over his shoulder. A moment later, Professor Dumbledore appeared.
Hermione stood bolt upright, Dumbledore! So far as she knew, the Headmaster hadn't been seen in the school since the news of Coventry had broken. He had cancelled their last Order meeting with nothing more than a cursory message about being needed in London. Instinctively, she turned her head toward Harry. He would want to know that Dumbledore was back. She got to the point of opening her mouth when she remembered that he would probably just ignore her. Besides he was standing against the far wall talking to Dean. Hermione shook her head and swallowed a nasty thought that had appeared from nowhere in her mind. Harry would just have to find out on his own. She turned her attention back to the window, and blinked. Dumbledore was nowhere in sight, Hagrid was gone too. Where had they gone? There hadn't been enough time for them to have crossed the grounds to the castle, and they had just been leaving the forest, hadn't they?
Hermione screwed her eyes shut for a moment and then looked again. She had seen them, hadn't she? She shook her head, maybe not. Maybe she had just imagined the whole thing. It wasn't as though hallucinations were all that uncommon for her lately. She narrowed her eyes and scanned the edge of the forest again.
"It's called a window, Hermione," Draco's voice purred in her ear, "You must have seen them before."
Hermione turned her head slightly, just enough to bring Draco into her periphery. He was grinning. She shrugged, "I have," she said in as flat a tone as she could, "but they aren't as pretty as this one," she reached out and idly stroked the glass.
"Ok," Draco said slowly. He stepped forward and turned round to sit on the window ledge. "Pretty windows…sure." he said in a distant voice. His eyes narrowed slightly, "Good morning?" he asked.
"The usual," Hermione responded. The usual being her attending classes, spending her time taking notes in silence while generally being ignored by everyone around her. A quiet, study encouraging lifestyle, it was strange that it annoyed her so. Things weren't as bad as they had been, at least the stares were gone and the whispers silenced, but she was still being treated as an outcast. Being ignored by the majority of her house bugged her, but she was getting used to it. Behind her, the classroom door opened and Professor Snape stepped out. He washed a hard glare across the gathered students for a moment before stalking off without a word. Professor McGonagall appeared at the door and beckoned them inside.
"I wonder what Snape was doing here," Draco whispered in Hermione's ear.
She shrugged, "I have no idea," she said aloud, but privately she thought, 'Probably something to do with the Order, though what, exactly, is anybody's guess.'
Hermione moved into the transfiguration room and dropped into a seat near the back. Draco sat down next to her. Professor McGonagall was standing behind her desk looking none too pleased.
"Come along," she barked, "Settle down there." The class eventually obeyed. Everyone was just about settled and the Professor was just gearing up to begin her lecture when the door opened to admit Etean. He grunted a brief apology to the Professor before sitting down beside Theodore Nott. Professor McGonagall directed an icy stare at him before she cleared her throat loudly to restore order.
"Now then," her gaze moved away from Etean, "If everyone is ready…we can get started." She paused to check the time by the large clock on her desk and scowled even further. "Our last discussion ended with my addressing the dangers inherent to transformations involving the so called, high level magical creatures. I believe I had just started outlining the unicorn as a prime example. The properties of the unicorn…" she trailed off as she appeared to notice something on her desk, "Oh…bother it," she took up a scroll from atop a large pile. "Your essays from last week," she said absently, "I had intended on returning them to you today but we are already behind time as it is…" she trailed off and looked around the room. Her face set as though she had just made a rapid decision, "Miss Granger, if you please," she nodded toward Hermione, "Will you return these to their respective owners while I continue?"
Hermione nodded and stood up. The Professor resumed her lecture as Hermione silently made her way to the top of the class. She selected several of the scrolls and began returning them to their owners. Most of the students gave her at least nod of acknowledgement, some even thanked her. Ron didn't however and nor did Harry, but she refused to let them bother her. 'Forget them,' she told herself yet again. Hermione's mind gave the usual growl as she approached, he was scowling slightly at nothing in particular, and took his essay without as much as making eye contact. His apparent bad mood aroused curiosity in her mind, as did pretty much everything he did, but it was instantly forgotten when she turned to Theodore. Hermione swallowed hard as he slowly and deliberately looked her up and down before accepting his essay. As he took it, a small grin twisted the corner of his lip, sending a shiver down Hermione's spine. She was glad to be able to simply turn and walk away from him. Her eyes moved to Draco. He gave her an almost invisible wink without really turning his head. Feeling better, she got on with her task.
Over the next five minutes, she visited every desk, every student with their essay. It wasn't until she had delivered the last of them that she realised that her own was missing. She returned to the teacher's desk and looked on the floor around and under it, presuming that her essay must have fallen, but there was no trace of it.
"Is there a problem, Miss Granger?" Professor McGonagall asked her.
Hermione spun to face the Professor, "Erm, I can't seem to find my essay Professor."
"Can't find …" McGonagall scoffed and marched over to the desk, "Are you sure it isn't here?"
"I can't see it," Hermione answered honestly.
Professor McGonagall's eyes darted about the desk in a cursory search before she sighed. "Well I know I graded it…very highly if memory serves," she set her hands on her hips and sighed, "I must have left it in my office," she pointed toward the door at the rear of the room. Hermione didn't move, Professor McGonagall nodded at her, "It should be on my desk, Miss Granger."
Hermione blinked, the Professor wanted her to go into her office and collect her essay? Why? It wasn't that important, she could just as easily collect if after class. She was about to say as much to the Professor when she caught her eye. Something in the blank stare looking back at her snagged in Hermione's mind. After a moment's pause, she nodded and headed off to the office.
Hermione had been in Professor McGonagall's office before, but never alone. It felt strange, as though she were trespassing, this was the Professor's private study. Still, she felt oddly at home in here, Professor McGonagall's love of books rivalled Hermione's, the office was filled to the rafters with shelves crammed to bursting with innumerable volumes and tomes. Hermione's eyes scanned the nearest shelf, skimming the titles, mentally checking off the one's she had read and noting the one's she hadn't. Outside, she could hear the Professor continue her lecture. She shook herself, 'Better hurry up so I don't miss too much.' She made her way over to the Professor's desk, barely glancing at the stacks of books on the shelves around her, the better to avoid distraction. Compared to the rest of the office, the desk itself was starkly bare. The polished, dark wooden surface was clean except for two things. The first was her essay, resting neatly as though deliberately left there, and the second was a small, sealed envelope. Hermione looked at it for a moment, and then shook herself, 'None of your business,' she thought harshly, 'just grab the essay and leave!' Hermione leaned over the desk to retrieve the essay and froze. The envelope was addressed to her.
Her essay was forgotten in an instant. A letter for her? Here? Frowning, she reached for it with unsteady fingers. Breaking the seal, she opened the envelope and extracted the single sheet of parchment. It was from Dumbledore and was definitely meant for her. Her frown deepened as she read. The letter wasn't confusing, it was a simple message informing her of an Order meeting later that evening, and instructing her to inform Harry and Ron with suitable care. 'Great!' What struck her as odd was the manner in which the letter had been delivered. The secrecy of it she understood, but surely there had to be a simpler way for the Headmaster to call a meeting than this.
Professor McGonagall's voice echoed in the air, she was berating Millicent Bullstrode over something. The sound snapped Hermione back to reality, she bundled the letter into her pocket and snatched her essay from the desk before heading out. She nodded quickly to the Professor as she passed and returned to her seat.
"How did you get on?" Draco asked.
"What?" Hermione turned to him, what did he mean?
"The essay, how did you do?" he asked, pointing to his own essay that he had unrolled on the desk in front of him. Hermione smiled when she looked down and saw the large letter 'E' penned at the top beside his name.
"Well done," she beamed at him.
Draco nodded and grinned back at her, "Well?"
Hermione frowned, "Well?"
Draco sighed, "What…grade…did…you…get?" he spelled out, stressing every word.
Hermione blinked; what grade had she got? She looked down at her essay and unrolled it, "O," she said simply.
Draco shook his head, "I don't get you, you get the highest possible grade and you sound as though you don't care."
Hermione shook her head, "I do care…it's just…"
"What?" he frowned.
Hermione paused, "Oh, nothing…just…pay attention," she nodded toward the Professor, who had turned to a diagram on the board to illustrate her points.
Draco shrugged and turned away. Hermione's mind raced, her eyes moved automatically to Harry, and to Ron beside him. She would have to find a moment alone with them to pass on the message from Dumbledore, but she'd probably have to nail them in place to do it. That would be fun.
'Just bloody great!' she thought to herself miserably.
Hermione turned into the corridor that led to Dumbledore's office. Ron and Harry were already standing by the gargoyle waiting for her. Hermione sighed, 'Why oh why did Dumbledore have to tell me the password and not them?' she asked herself for the hundredth time. It was her own fault, this row had been her doing. She could have just told them and saved herself the aggravation. But, the note had been clear about one thing, the password was to be treated as privileged information and, seeing as how she was going to be at the meeting with them, there was no reason for them to know it. That was the logic of it at least, more realistically she had kept the password to herself deliberately to cause a row – at least they would pay attention to her then. She saw Ron look in her direction briefly when she was halfway down the corridor and winced, it hadn't been pleasant. Their eyes met for only an instant before he looked away.
She stopped beside them and looked from one to the other briefly, neither looked back at her, Harry preferring to stare at the wall, Ron, at his own feet. Hermione shook her head, 'Just get this over with!' she said to herself. She drew herself up to her full height and said the password, "Liquorice Allsorts!" The gargoyle responded immediately, stepping aside to reveal the spiral staircase behind. Harry was already disappearing from sight before it had even fully retracted, Ron followed close on his heels, leaving Hermione to bring up the rear. She sighed again and followed.
She was halfway up the stairs when, 'You really don't have to put up with them you know.' Hermione stopped in her tracks. The thought had come from nowhere, and it didn't sound right. Realisation settled on her, it wasn't hers…the voice was back!
Panic slammed into her, she felt herself start to shake. "NO! NO! NO! It's not real!" she whispered to herself, screwing her eyes shut and balling her fists in concentration.
'Fine,' the voice answered, almost sarcastically, 'It's not real so just ignore it and it will go away…' The sound of it faded to nothing. Hermione waited with baited breath, but it didn't speak again. She opened her eyes and took a deep breath to steady her nerves before she climbed the last few steps and entered Dumbledore's office. She was all set to apologise to the Headmaster for her delay, but there was no need. Dumbledore wasn't in his office. The table had been prepared for their meeting as always, stacks of folders, which Hermione recognised as Ministerial files, littered the surface, but there was no sign of the Professor anywhere. Hermione frowned. Harry and Ron didn't seem to be puzzled by his absence. They were too busy rummaging through files, muttering and commenting about their contents.
"I've seen this before…this is about an attack in Leicester two months ago," Ron sounded annoyed.
"This one is even older," Harry replied in the same, deadpan tone he seemed to use perpetually these days.
"What is Dumbledore playing at?" Ron growled, "He is supposed to have information about Coventry." He suddenly turned on Hermione, "Isn't he?"
Hermione swallowed, Harry turned to her too, "Yes," she said, "At least, that was what the note said."
"And it definitely said eight o'clock?"
"Yes," she nodded. Ron pursed his lips and then sighed.
"Are we early?" Harry's question startled Hermione. He hadn't so much as said a word to her in a fortnight. She turned to answer him, but her heart sank suddenly when she realised that he had been speaking to Ron, not to her.
Ron tugged up his sleeve and looked at his watch, "No," he shook his head, "We're on time. He's late!"
Harry shrugged and sat down, pulling some of the pages from the table and starting to flick through them. After a moment, Ron sighed and did likewise.
"He must be on his way," Hermione said, wanting to be helpful.
The only response she got was a low grunt from Ron as he dumped the pages he had been reading and selected some more. She wanted to scream at them, tear into them for daring to treat her this way. Thoughts of roaring nasty words and hurtful insults at them bubbled through her mind. Hermione was somewhat startled by the fact that there seemed to be precious little stopping her. The words rose in her throat as her fists balled in anger. Through nothing short of a sheer act of willpower, she kept silent and turned away.
Hermione spun, searching for something to occupy her mind and distract her sudden temper until Dumbledore arrived. She forced herself to take slow, deep breaths and walked away, putting some distance between herself and their mutterings. She took a moment to focus on her surroundings, anything to stop her mind racing. The walls of the Headmaster's office were covered with portraits of former Hogwarts Headmasters, an extremely heady group of wizards. Though, by the time their portraits had been painted, many of them had been well on in years and, according to Dumbledore at least, more than a little senile. Hermione noted as she looked around that most of the portraits were empty at the moment, their occupants having stepped out for the evening, she mused quietly. The life of a portrait must be a strange one, staring out from a canvas all day, moving from room to room, sometimes building to building in a single step, never aging, never growing.
Her thoughts derailed when she noticed the map; that was a new feature. A large sheet of parchment bearing a hand drawn map of England was tacked to an easel that was standing in the corner. She frowned as she moved over to it. Dozens of tiny red pins had been jabbed, seemingly at random, into the map, marking locations all over the country. It wasn't until she noticed the glaring red circle surrounding Coventry that Hermione realised what she was looking at. Each of those dots must be there to mark a Death Eater attack. Her eyes scanned the map again, there were so many, she hadn't realised. Dozens of them, everywhere, no part of the country had been spared, it seemed, nowhere was safe. Seeing at all laid out like this was…
'Incredible, isn't it?' the voice said quietly. 'So much death, so much pain: all to slake one man's thirst for power?' Hermione's eyes slid closed as she willed herself to ignore it and remain calm.
'The map,' she thought furiously, 'Focus on the map, focus on reality!' Hermione stared at the map, searching for a pattern amid the field of dots. She wasn't going to find one she knew, but it was something to occupy her mind. The voice remained silent, but she could hear…or rather feel it shifting about, just on the edge of her mind. 'No, stop it, you are not going crazy!'
'Of course you're not, if anything it's me that's crazy.' At that the words faded into quiet laughter. Hermione fought the sudden wave of terrified nausea down and turned around as the door opened. She was at first glad at the distraction, but it didn't last. Her head started to growl quietly a moment before she saw Etean walk in.
"What the hell are you doing here?" the question exploded out of Ron as he leapt to his feet, followed closely by Harry.
Etean stopped, "Perfect!" he said, as though to himself.
Ron took a step toward him, "I said, what are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same question," Etean responded, "But I prefer to mind my own business."
"Well," Harry cut off Ron's response, "whatever your business is, Etean, it will have to wait," he gestured around the room, "This is a private meeting."
Etean looked around, pausing slightly when he saw Hermione. The growl rose in volume slightly. "Is that right?" Etean asked sarcastically, moving his gaze back to Harry, "A curious choice of venue if you want my opinion."
"We don't," snarled Ron, "So you can just get lost."
Etean shook his head, "Believe me, Weasley, there are very few things that I would rather do, however I don't appear to have a choice."
"No choice? What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Ron stepped forward again.
"Why are you here?" Hermione said, not even aware of deciding to ask the question.
Etean stopped short and turned to her. The growl became a momentary snarl as a flash of emotion shot behind his stare. He opened his mouth to respond when another voice cut him off.
"He's here because I asked him to be here." Everyone spun round to face Professor Dumbledore, who had appeared as though from nowhere behind them in the corner. "I apologise for my tardiness," he said brightly, "I'm afraid I was delayed elsewhere."
The Headmaster beamed at them for a moment, and then casually strolled over to the table to take his seat. "Professor, what…" Harry started, already pointing a finger at Etean.
Dumbledore waved him off, "All will be clear soon, Harry," he said soothingly. "Please, everyone, have a seat."
Harry scowled and sat down, Ron returned to the table, glaring at Etean. He remained standing for a moment before Harry reached up and tugged on his robes. Hermione crossed to the table and sat down opposite Dumbledore, leaving a clear gap between herself and Ron. Etean passed behind her to sit down opposite Harry.
Dumbledore turned to Etean as he sat down, "Since you are here, I take it that Professor Snape delivered my note?"
Hermione started slightly, Etean got a note too? Why had Professor Dumbledore brought him here?
Etean nodded to the Professor, "He did."
"And, do you have any questions before we begin?"
"No, not really."
"You understand the nature of this meeting?"
Etean paused, "The nature yes, the purpose…no, but I expect I will shortly."
"Indeed, I'm sure that you would have, however I feel that I should proffer a brief explanation. No doubt you are all curious?"
None of the Gryffindors responded as Professor Dumbledore looked around. 'What does he mean?' Hermione thought, 'Why would we be curious?'
'Oh for pity's sake,' the voice answered harshly, 'He wants you to play along.'
'Play along with what?' The Professor continued to look at them expectantly.
'Oh just nod will you?' the voice ordered. Hermione found herself obeying. 'Good girl,' it praised her, 'wake me up when you've caught on, will you?' and it fell silent.
Hermione was really confused now, her brow creased, 'Caught onto what?' she asked, not sure if she really wanted an answer.
The Headmaster was apparently satisfied with her nod, indeed he was already talking, "….aware of the persistence of hearsay, more commonly called gossip, in Hogwarts?"
Gossip? Hermione winced at the mere sound of the word, she certainly knew more than enough about it. Harry and Ron didn't respond, Etean nodded, "Yes."
"Well then, given that there is no satisfactory way to prevent the spread of gossip and rumours, and given the somewhat…unpleasant and potentially volatile nature of current events, those rumours could be a detriment to school moral. Therefore I felt it was necessary for me to inject at least a modicum of truth into the mix. So here we are." The Headmaster smiled slightly, "Obviously, to hold such briefings as this with the entire student population would almost certainly prove to be more harm than benefit, so I decided that the best way to approach this would be to quietly inform certain select groups of students, whom I deem to possess what can be called a level head, of the plain facts. It is my hope that they will then be in a position to disseminate some of that truth to their class and house mates." He turned his attention to the rest of the students, "I have chosen to keep the individual meetings small so as to facilitate ease of communication. I want to make it clear to you all that, despite this being essentially a briefing session, you are free to make any comments or voice any questions that occur to you."
There was a brief pause as the Professor appeared to be awaiting questions. Hermione looked about her. Etean was frowning slightly, though it seemed to be a false gesture put on for the show of it. Harry and Ron were looking at one another with confused expressions on their faces. Hermione fought to keep her face blank. She was beginning to comprehend the Headmaster's intent. He apparently wanted the three Gryffindors to play along and pretend as though this was the first meeting of this kind that they had attended.
'Well done!' said the voice sarcastically, 'you didn't even use your fingers and toes for that one.'
Hermione forced herself to ignore the sounds inside her head. She focussed instead on watching events outside her head. The little ruse that Professor Dumbledore was employing seemed to be working for the moment. At least, neither Harry nor Ron had said anything to give them away. Hermione found herself wondering if that was mere luck. She hoped not, Professor Dumbledore had gone to a lot of trouble to provide a completely sensible explanation for their meeting while totally avoiding the truth. It would be a shame for one of those two to ruin it. Still, that the Headmaster was choosing such a lie for Etean's benefit was confusing. Everyone else at the table knew the truth, so why was Professor Dumbledore going to the trouble?
Dumbledore cleared his throat and leaned forward. "Now then…to business. I realise that you all have many questions," he glanced at Harry quickly, "But, I'm afraid that I will not have time this evening to answer them all. These," he gestured to the tabletop, now littered with scattered files and photographs, "are for your benefit," he addressed them all, "Visual aids if you will accept the term. No doubt you have all read the papers and are familiar with what has been publicly released. These, however, represent a clearer, less subjective picture of events." Etean reached out and selected a couple of pages from the nearest pile and scanned over them. Hoping to reinforce the message for Ron and Harry, Hermione did likewise. "Begging your indulgence," Professor Dumbledore continued, "I will attempt to summarise as quickly as I can." Harry and Ron looked at one another, then back to the Headmaster as he started to recount the major events of the war to date. Hermione tried to feign attention, but found herself unable to do anything but stare at Etean as the Headmaster spoke. The growl remained constant, though it gradually faded into the background of her mind, leaving her distinctly curious. What was it about him that affected her so? Her eyes remained on him, searching for answers to questions she hadn't even asked.
Lacking a clear line of investigation, she decided to simply catalogue details. The first thing that she noticed was how calm he was. He sat there listening to Professor Dumbledore list off attack after attack, murder after murder, and never seemed to react in the least. He didn't even twitch when he heard Voldemort's name, something precious few wizards were capable of. The only movements he made were to occasionally reach out to take up other sheets from the table, or to shuffle through a file casually.
'How can he be so calm?' she asked herself as yet another string of bloody killings passed him by without triggering a reaction. 'How can anyone listen to all of this without reacting?'
'He is reacting,' the voice whispered in her ear, making her jump in surprise, 'he's just hiding it, that's all.' The voice sounded impressed, 'It's really amazing how good he is at it. Look at him, his face is a mask, a shield for his true thoughts.'
Hermione wrung her fingers under the table and pushed the voice aside. The Headmaster had finally finished his recant of previous events and was approaching, for everyone except Etean at least, the reason for tonight's meeting. "…Prior to this we had no clear knowledge of the movements of the Chalos clan since their disappearance from their homeland in Austria. Voldemort was able to mask the giants' presence in this country completely right up to the moment that they appeared in Coventry and started levelling buildings." The Professor paused and took a slow breath.
They had reached the primary topic for the meeting. Their pretence of attention vanished as everyone switched back on and sat forward. "Do you know anything more about the attack, Professor?" Harry asked. Hermione could hear real emotion in his voice for once.
Professor Dumbledore nodded, "Unfortunately yes," he sighed, "As you are no doubt aware, giants and trolls made up the bulk of the attacking force, and they are not known for their subtlety. It seems that Voldemort was indeed employing them in a purely diversionary manner. The sad truth of the matter is that he quite literally unleashed them, letting them carry out the attack as violently and as brutally as they desired." A pause. "The published casualty estimates have been revised…upward once more. We have now confirmed the deaths of over two hundred witches and wizards, while dozens more remain unaccounted for…it is easier to quantify the muggle casualties in the thousands." Hermione let out a not so well concealed gasp, drawing the Headmaster's attention to her. He nodded, "I understand your feelings, Miss Granger, despite the differences between wizards and muggles, they are still human, and this tragedy has hurt them as much as it has us. The only difference being that they never knew what hit them," his voice was very quiet when he finished.
"What have they been told?" Harry asked, "The muggles," he added to clarify on the Professor's look.
"An announcement was made via their public news service indicating that a store of dangerous chemicals was accidentally released, causing vivid and frightening hallucinations for all those exposed. The reports indicated that these hallucinations caused mass panic and, finally, a full scale riot to break out."
"And they believed this?" Harry sounded dubious.
Dumbledore nodded, "It seems so, at least thus far. For now, the muggles shouldn't be a problem. A secured perimeter surrounding an area twenty miles in diameter, centred on the city, has been established and is being enforced by the muggle army…backed by Ministry personnel. It is the official policy of the Ministry that travel into or out of Coventry, wizard and muggle, be prohibited until further notice."
Hermione found herself looking back over her shoulder at the map with the glaring red circle around Coventry. A no go zone? Voldemort's territory!
She turned back as Harry leaned forward, "And unofficially?"
Dumbledore took another deep breath, "Several clandestine probes within the cordoned area have been carried out, and the picture is grave indeed. It seems that all those, wizard and muggle alike, who were not lucky enough to be able to escape, or unfortunate enough to have been killed, have been rounded up and herded into what we are generously calling internment camps, in truth no better than crude hovels. The prisoners are held in appalling conditions, guarded, and preyed upon by dementors, vampires, hags and ghouls amongst," a brief pause, "a host of other foul creatures that appear to have rallied with surprising speed to Voldemort's side."
The Headmaster sounded angrier than Hermione had ever heard him, but she could tell that it was mostly frustration that she was hearing in his voice.
"Has there been any sighting of Voldemort?" The air rang with the sound of Harry's words. Hermione's eyes moved rapidly from Professor Dumbledore to Harry, and then, strangely enough, to Etean. He was looking at Harry now, his face still bearing no expression whatsoever. After a moment, his eyes moved to look at her. The growl shot to the foreground in her mind in an instant. His face didn't change, not in any way that she could see, but his look stunned her.
'He knew you were watching him, and he didn't like it. He's looking through you, not at you, trying to scare you off,' the voice whispered. Hermione suddenly found herself agreeing with it despite herself. 'Are you going to let him win?' The question didn't trigger an answer. In a moment it was over, Etean's gaze returned to the Headmaster as he answered Harry's question.
"The answer to that is, no, Harry, but that should not come as a major surprise. Our agents were not searching for him but were rather tasked with general information gathering. We are satisfied that Voldemort is indeed holed up in Coventry, if for no other reason than it simply makes sense for him to be there."
"Did your agents learn anything of value?"
Professor Dumbledore took a moment to answer, "They managed to gather a general layout of how Voldemort has distributed his forces."
"And?" Ron prompted.
"And, he has dug himself in rather well it would appear. The camps are guarded night and day by a legion of dementors. Trolls and giants patrol the streets 'amusing' themselves as they see fit. The other creatures are dispersed throughout what's left of the city, each living according to their own preference. The Death Eaters are apparently confining themselves to the Ministry compound, for what reason," he shook his head, "we have no way of knowing." Etean nodded at this.
BAM
Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin as Ron slammed his fist down on the table. "It doesn't make sense," he roared.
Dumbledore didn't seem phased by this, "What doesn't make sense?" he asked calmly.
"None of it," Ron stopped and took a moment to regain some level of composure. "You told us that the biggest advantage that the Death Eaters had was their mobility. The Aurors didn't know where they were from one moment to the next, right?"
"Indeed," Dumbledore nodded.
"Well then why are they doing this? Why attack Coventry? It isn't critical to us…not in the way that London is. So why try to hold the city when it means giving up their biggest advantage?" He shook his head, "I can't see any justification for it, none."
"They have managed to acquire a base of operations, Ronald," Dumbledore spoke with an air that suggested that he was humouring Ron, but Hermione doubted if Ron would notice, "The Ministry building that they commandeered is a fortress, a safe haven for them. There is that to consider."
Ron shook his head, "But we know where it is though, we've got them boxed in now. The Auror facility might be an asset, but it isn't valuable enough to justify the cost of taking it, or holding it."
"The battle cost us more than it did them, Ron," Harry said, "What is the count now, seventeen Aurors dead?"
Professor Dumbledore nodded. Ron did to, but he wasn't giving up his argument, "Yeah, ok, it hurt us, but nowhere near as much as it would have in, say, a month or so when it was fully staffed and integrated into the Ministry's administrative hierarchy. Hitting it then would have all but paralysed us."
"Maybe," Harry nodded, "but you're assuming that they could have taken it then. Fully staffed and equipped, it would have been twice as hard, twice as costly for Voldemort."
Professor Dumbledore weighed in, "It is also extremely likely that, had Voldemort waited, then the battle for Coventry could well have been un-winnable, perhaps that was his motivation…to destroy what could have turned into the linchpin of our efforts to thwart him."
"No," Etean's voice seemed to slice the conversation in half, "That isn't it. Voldemort didn't take the city to keep you from fortifying it. If anything, leaving the facility alone would have hurt you more in the long run."
At that, Harry scowled, "What do you mean?"
"Well," Etean said calmly, "it occurs to me that there is another, somewhat more believable explanation."
"Which is?" Ron hissed, clearly not going to believe a word of the answer.
Etean didn't answer him, instead he turned to the Professor, "When fully operational, how many Aurors would have been needed to staff that complex?"
"The nominal staff would have been twenty-five strong, allowing for those on assignments in or around the midlands region," he answered with a contemplative look on his face.
"Twenty-five," Etean nodded, "That means you would have twenty-five men guarding a fortress that serves no purpose except to be a fortress. But in reality, what good would it have been to you?"
"It was a base of operations," Ron snapped angrily, "a place for our side to regroup, to plan their strategy, to co-ordinate…"
"It was an icon," Etean cut him off in a derisory manner, "A public symbol of strength that you don't really possess, a lie for the benefit of the masses. But, however large and important a symbol it would have been, it would still have meant taking twenty-five men away from your already strained pool of resources. Sure, taking the facility meant that you lost people, but it was a once off loss, not a long term drain as it would have been."
"That," Harry said slowly, thinking as he spoke, "doesn't make sense. You're making it sound like Voldemort did us a favour?"
"In some ways he did, but in many more ways he didn't."
"And just what is that supposed to mean?" Ron asked harshly.
"It means," Etean said quietly, waving a file folder vaguely in the air, "That Voldemort's motives, the explanations for his actions are all perfectly clear, should one take the time to actually look at the facts of course."
Ron scoffed, Harry frowned. Neither was happy, but before either could speak, Professor Dumbledore beat them to it. "Do you have a theory to postulate, Mr Etean?"
"No theory, Professor, just a statement of the blatantly obvious. The answer is right in front of you, practically dancing before your eyes. You just don't seem to have seen it," he paused slightly, "You'll pardon the implication, Professor. I in no way meant to insult you."
'Oh yes he did, and he knows that Dumbledore knows too,' an internal giggle from the voice rang in Hermione's ears, 'His words are a double edged sword, saying everything and nothing at the same time, it's almost poetry.'
Hermione was surprised to find herself smiling slightly. Etean had, with a string of no more than half a dozen sentences, completely taken over the conversation. She got the impression that he was completely aware of how he was now leading them along by the nose and was perfectly happy about it.
"You will need to try a lot harder if you desire to insult me, Mr Etean," Professor Dumbledore smiled, "I have a very thick skin. So, by all means, point out the blatantly obvious facts that I have missed," he made an open handed gesture to the table.
Etean nodded, "Ok then."
"This should be good," Ron mumbled sarcastically. Hermione didn't agree with the sentiment, but she found that she did agree with the words.
Etean ignored Ron's comment, "As I said," he said, shuffling the pages in his hand. "The reason for Voldemort's decision to attack Coventry is right here," he tossed a photograph down onto the centre of the table, then a second one beside it, "as it were, quite literally staring at you."
Hermione craned forward along with everyone else to see the pictures. Both at first glance appeared to be the same. They both showed the same man, she recognised him as Kingsley Shaklebolt, standing, pointing at a broken body on the ground.
"Incident photographs," Ron said, looking up at Etean, "So? They take these at any crime scene. There are dozens just like these here, what makes these special?"
"Look at them," Etean said, "Do you see any similarities?"
"Yes," Ron spat at him, "They are both pictures of the same man," his tone suggested that he was again making fun of Etean.
Etean nodded, "Do you know him?"
"Yes I know him, so what?"
"And you recognise him? In both images?"
Ron growled under his breath, "Of course I do, like I said I know him. Do you even have a point to make?"
"I do, and it is this," he leaned forward and touched the first image, "This man is an Auror, I don't know anything about him other than that. From this photograph, I can determine that he is a proud man, an honourable man that has most likely served with distinction for many years. Here he is," Etean turned the picture, and a faint smile touched his lips, "doing his job, documenting the fate of this poor individual, but," he looked up, "he's not just doing that. He isn't posing for a picture because it's his job, he's there because he wants to be. He wants to be seen there, to be a part of this horrible scene because that means he'll be a part of the rest too, the chase, the struggle and the fight to bring those responsible to justice. I wouldn't be at all surprised if he were to keep this picture and look at it daily, as a reminder of what he's fighting, and what he's fighting for. He's living for that struggle, its consuming him." Etean paused as his fingers moved on to the second picture, "This isn't the same man."
"What are you talking about?" Harry asked, "Of course it is."
"Is it?" Etean smiled, "Look closely and then tell me."
Harry didn't look, "It is the same man," he turned to the Headmaster, "Professor, this is nonsense."
The Professor raised a hand, "Perhaps, Mr Etean, if you were to explain what it is your saying."
Etean picked up the picture and looked at it, "When I look at this image, I see a man doing his job and nothing more. He's there because he has to be. He's had to do this awful thing so often that it no longer touches him as it used to. The passion, the fire…the lust for revenge, for justice, is gone. He's drifting, and not in the right direction…not living for the struggle anymore, merely hoping to survive it."
Apparently finished, Etean dropped the picture. Curiosity got the better of Hermione, she leaned forward and snatched it up from under Ron's nose. Turning it around in her hand, Hermione looked, trying to see what Etean apparently saw. Kingsley was there, standing over an elderly wizard's body. The image was simple, an Auror officially recording that he had witnessed the scene. She looked at his face, and his eyes, and she saw it. He was tired, weary even, unshaven and dishevelled. He had the look of a man who would gladly give or do anything not to have to be standing where he was standing. The moving image shuddered and blinked slowly, enforcing the image in her mind. It was as though he was screaming at her, "Get me out of here!"
Hermione dropped the photo, Harry grabbed it and stared hard. Finally he looked up, "You see an awful lot in this one picture, Etean," he said, "but none of it explains why Voldemort hit Coventry so hard, or why he gave up his mobility, his single biggest weapon to do so."
Etean laughed, "His biggest weapon?" he shook his head, "He's given up no such thing."
"But he's tied down, he's committed to holding the city now. And he's burdened with the very drain on his resources that you claim he spared us."
"And he's surrounded, by an army no less," Ron added his voice to the anti-Etean party, "He isn't free to come and go as he pleases anymore."
Etean leaned forward again, "And when did he do that? Voldemort doesn't need to come and go anywhere, nor has he ever. He gives orders, issues commands from afar, and they are obeyed. All that holding Coventry changed for him was his location, the mission, and the orders remain the same. That is, there's nothing here to suggest otherwise," he smiled, "Unless I've missed something."
"You have," Ron barked at him, "The attacks have stopped. There hasn't been so much as a sighting of a single Death Eater in a fortnight…I'd call that a change wouldn't you?"
Etean paused, "The attacks have stopped have they?" he asked.
"Yes," Ron sounded really frustrated now.
"Why?"
"Why?"
"Why have they stopped?"
Ron rolled his eyes to heaven, "That's what we've been talking about you idiot."
The insult flew wide, Etean didn't rise to it, "No," he said calmly, "We have been discussing his overall strategy. This is more specific, why has he stopped his barrage of attacks?"
"Because he's too busy holding Coventry, that's why."
"And why is he doing that?"
Ron stood up, "For fuck's sake, enough with the questions already."
Etean smiled, "If you don't know the answer, just say so."
Ron scoffed and turned away. Hermione looked from him to Etean. As she saw him smirk at Ron, the answer to his question floated into her mind from out of nowhere.
"Because he wants to," she said, causing an immediate deafening silence.
Harry turned to her, "What did you say?"
With every eye on her, Hermione suddenly became nervous, "Erm," she stammered slightly, "Well, I…I just said that, the reason Volde….Voldemort," she spat it out, fighting to suppress the shudder, "is holding Coventry is because he wants to." She felt the need to explain herself further, "The…the only explanation that makes sense is that it fits his goals somehow…though I don't know how," she added quickly to intercede any further questions.
Harry frowned, Professor Dumbledore nodded slowly at her, Etean simply stared at her for a count of five before he too, nodded curtly. "Yes, he attacked Coventry because he chose to, not because he had to…that's the important thing to note. Nobody forced his hand, nobody threatened him and drove him to it in some act of desperation. He decided to change his tactics and he did it. He decided that he wanted Coventry, and now he has it, and nobody was able to stop him, the Aurors, least of all."
"They were caught off guard and outnumbered," Ron spat.
"Granted," Etean answered plainly, "but that's hardly relevant, the message was sent all the same. Voldemort can do what he pleases, and there isn't a damned thing anyone can about it," he jabbed a finger at Ron, "You said earlier that Coventry wasn't critical, and I suppose that was true in some ways, but it was also wrong. Outside of London, Coventry is, or rather was, the largest wizarding community in England, true or false?"
"True…but what of it?"
"Right, so it was the second biggest target he could have chosen," Etean washed over Ron's question, "and he smashed it…took it with, relatively, little difficulty."
Ron scoffed, "Hardly."
"Is that so? I read the papers, and that's the impression I got. What I've seen here," he gestured to the table, "seems only to have proved me right. But right or wrong, it didn't matter, I knew I couldn't be that far off, and if I could read between the lines, you had better be sure that other people could too." Etean pointed his hand toward the window, "Right now, all over this country, those people are sitting at home, scared and alone. They are all asking themselves the same questions – 'He took Coventry, could he take London? If he can do it once, what's stopping him doing it again? Could he really win this war?'"
"Never!" Harry and Ron answered in unison. A sinking feeling in Hermione's stomach made her uneasy, she wasn't nearly as sure of that right now as they were.
Nor was Etean, "Really?" he asked incredulously, "Are you certain of that? Who's going to stop him?" Harry was about to answer when Etean reached out and grabbed the photograph of Kingsley again and held it up before Harry's eyes, "Him?" he asked. Etean dropped the picture and sighed, "This war, Harry, isn't about cities or castles…it's not even about battles when you get down to it…it's about people, and its about fear. Voldemort is a master of fear and always has been; that is his greatest weapon, Harry, nothing more and nothing less. Right now this country is full of fear. From north to south, east to west, in their kitchens, bedrooms or sitting rooms, a lot of scared people are huddled in the dark, afraid of tomorrow. And they have reason to be scared. The Aurors were their only line of defence in this war," he touched the photograph again, "Now what have they got?"
Ron's jaw set, "The Aurors aren't beaten yet! We aren't beaten yet." he said defiantly.
"Indeed we are not," Dumbledore said in a loud, clear voice. Hermione had almost forgotten that he was there. "This war is far from lost!" There was an inspiring note to his voice that lifted Hermione's heart. The Headmaster turned to Etean, "I thank you for your insights Mr Etean, and yours Ronald, Harry, Hermione."
Professor Dumbledore drew his hands together and nodded, "Now then, I'm afraid that will have to suffice for this evening. I trust that you all have a somewhat clearer view on the realities of events outside Hogwarts than you did an hour ago."
Hermione sighed internally. That was it, the meeting was over. As she stood up, she got the immediate impression that Harry and Ron were by no means happy about this.
"But…" Harry started to object until a sideways glance from the Professor silenced him.
"I told you that my time was short, Harry. I am sorry if I have not fully answered your questions. It is my hope that we will be able to meet again soon."
"When?" Ron asked, still not standing up.
"As soon as can be arranged, Ronald. Rest assured that you will be informed."
Ron scowled and stood up, Harry dawdled a moment longer before standing. Hermione watched Etean casually stroll past her before she turned to follow him out. He was halfway to the door when…
"Mr Etean," Professor Dumbledore called out.
Etean turned, "Sir?"
Hermione turned to see Harry and Ron also looking at the Professor. "I require a moment more of your time, if you would." He turned to Harry and Ron and nodded to them, telling them to leave. Begrudgingly they obeyed. Hermione took a moment to remember that she too was supposed to leave. She trailed out of the office in Harry's wake, in no hurry to keep up with him.
"What the hell was all that about?" she heard him ask Ron angrily.
'That is a good question!' The voice answered, drowning out Ron's response.
Hermione stopped, ahead of her, Ron and Harry continued on, not noticing or not caring that she wasn't following. As their footsteps died away into silence, the sound of blood rushing through her ears nearly deafened Hermione. But it was still preferable to,
'Look, you may as well face it, I am not going to just go away,' the voice was more soothing now, but it was still a disembodied voice in her head, a clear sign that she was going mad. Hermione paced for a moment, and then sat against the wall, the voice was starting to really scare her. Why wouldn't it just go away? 'Please,' she pleaded with her own head, 'Please just leave me alone.'
Etean returned to the end of the table, standing opposite Dumbledore as the door closed behind them. The Professor fixed him with a quizzical stare.
"I must admit," he began plainly, "that I am somewhat impressed."
"Sir?"
"Your grasp of the details presented to you this evening, and your ability to see the big picture, as it were, are commendable."
"Thank you, Professor," Etean nodded slightly.
"Would it surprise you to learn that your opinion is rather identical to that which currently prevails at the Ministry?"
'No, of course it wouldn't. You aren't all incompetent fools.'
"It does Professor?"
Dumbledore nodded, "In many ways, yes, though they may not have stated it in quite the same terms."
Etean allowed a smile to twist his lip, "I prefer not to mince words for the sake of it."
Dumbledore returned his smile, "Indeed, your words this evening put me in mind of your father."
Etean blinked, 'My father would never have been so direct.' "You knew my father, Professor?"
"Alas, I can't say that I did. I did meet him on several occasions, a good man."
Etean nodded again, but chose not to say anything. The Professor cleared his throat, "Now then, I have much still to do this evening, so allow me to be as forthright and direct as you have been. Our situation is grim; far more so than even this meeting would lead you to believe. Our numbers have been drastically reduced far more rapidly than we were prepared for even in our worst case estimates."
"Is it that bad, Professor?" Etean asked, though he knew the answer.
"Sadly, yes. But more critical to our current situation is the issue of moral…as you so correctly pointed out. There is an aura of despair settling over the hearts of our troops…for lack of a better word to refer to them. It is as yet, unspoken, though if things continue as they are currently…" He trailed off, Etean watched his mind race. "We need a victory," the Professor said quietly, "a real victory, not just a lack of defeat, we need something to hold onto, something to fight towards."
'A victory? A goal to achieve?' "Are you planning to retake Coventry?" Etean asked quietly.
Professor Dumbledore looked at him with startlingly pure honesty in his eyes, "As it stands…no. The sad truth is that we cannot. As it stands, any attempt to assault the city would be suicide. The best we can do is harass them, try to pick them off in ones and twos…skirmishes, decisive…if small victories," he sighed, "It isn't much, but it will be something."
'Damage control,' Etean nodded, 'They are going to try to establish a holding pattern to prevent things from getting any worse.'
It made sense. Etean slid silently into his role in this conversation, "That doesn't sound very long term, Professor."
"No," Dumbledore sighed, "it isn't, but for now it is all we have. To achieve more we need more, more men, more time, and more of an insight into the goals of our enemy. In short we need allies if we are to survive," a pause, "Which brings us rather neatly to the main reason for tonight's meeting. And why I invited you, Mr Etean."
"Yes?" Etean asked quietly.
"I'm afraid," Dumbledore began, "that I must break a promise that I made you on the day we met."
Etean nodded 'Here we go.'
"Is that so? What, specifically, do you mean?"
"When you first came to this school," said Dumbledore, "We agreed that, if you were to function in this school, your title could not play a part. You would receive or expect no preferential treatment whatsoever, be subject to the same rules and responsibilities as any other student without exception. That was an agreement between us that I intended to adhere to. However I must, unfortunately, now set it aside. I need a favour from you…a favour that only Lord Etean can provide."
'I hate being right all the time,' Etean thought to himself, though he knew it was a lie. He chose to sit at that point; Lord Etean wouldn't stand at Dumbledore's bidding. He rested his elbow on the arm of the chair and covered his mouth with his hand, "Go on," he said through his fingers.
"It has been the position of the Minister for some time now that our forces, even at their strongest, were insufficient to the task we faced. Since the outbreak of hostilities, he has been working to establish a dialogue with the major powers in Europe in the hope of securing their assistance in defeating our common enemy, thus far, with little success. Aside from a few, initial, quietly encouraging whispers, all further attempts at opening a dialogue to broker our needs have apparently fallen on deaf ears."
"You are being stonewalled?"
Dumbledore nodded, "Once again, simply put, and clinically accurate. All our messages and envoys are met with blank platitudes, vague placations that the situation is being considered in detail." The Professor shook his head, "The Minister has finally despaired of the official channels, and has asked me to try any alternate means at my disposal."
'Like me!' Etean smiled, "Alternate means?"
"Yes, as you are no doubt aware, there are more ways to open negotiations than the official channels." He smiled briefly, "I have been endeavouring to explore these, calling on old friends, asking for the return of old favours. I have made progress, though not as much as I had hoped. It seems that, to many people in positions of influence within the halls of our European neighbours' governing bodies, England has become a dirty topic."
Etean said nothing. Dumbledore had brought him here to ask for a favour, and he would have to ask for it straight out.
"So," his smile faded, "you see my problem. Nobody will speak with me."
"Apparently," Etean answered flatly, "The question now becomes: What can I do to help you?"
Professor Dumbledore sat back, "Do you know the name Renée Valjean?"
Etean frowned, 'Interesting choice, Professor.' "Counsellor Valjean? He is the Director of Le Département de la Sécurité Externe, The Bureau of External Security in France. What about him?"
"We worked together several years ago during the last session of the International Wizarding Confederation, adjusting the wording of several of the more controversial new bylaws to make them more palatable to the delegates. We have maintained a passing correspondence over the years, until recently that is. I have been attempting to contact him for a couple of weeks now…"
"And he hasn't answered you?"
"No," Dumbledore answered, "Rather he cannot answer me because I cannot contact him."
"I don't follow you, Professor. I wouldn't have thought that Renée Valjean is a particularly hard man to find."
"Nor would I, but that seems to be the case. Whenever I contact his office, I am politely informed that he's on holiday, though it occurs to me that this is a remarkably unusual time for France's Chief of the Foreign Security to take a holiday, don't you?"
Etean nodded, "It does raise a few warning flags, yes."
"More than a few," Dumbledore sighed, "But, as it stands I have little choice but to accept the explanation given, and his assistant's assurances that she will pass on my messages as soon as possible."
"But if his secretary is the only thing blocking you," Etean said, "can't you just write to him directly? It shouldn't matter where he is, I've never heard of any holiday location that a good owl can't find."
Dumbledore smiled, "Well it seems that Renée has indeed found one. I have sent four owls to him over the last fortnight, all returned undelivered."
'Damn, they really are throwing the wall up high aren't they?'
"Curious…I wonder where he could be…"
"As do I. Unfortunately, as I lack any official authority in France, or in England for that matter, it would appear as though my hands are tied. But," he paused, "I believe that there is a way that you could find out,"
Etean wanted to smile, but he forced himself not to twitch, "What can I do Professor? I have no more authority in the Adjutaire than you do."
Dumbledore smiled, "Is that so? I think you underestimate the importance of your position. I was under the impression that the name of Lord Etean carries a great deal of authority inside the Adjutaire," his smile broadened slightly, "If Lord Etean speaks, people listen."
"That may be true in theory, Professor," said Etean, "but the simple fact is that it is never that simple. I may have my father's name, but I am not my father. To many in the Adjutaire, I am noting more than a spoiled kid struggling to fit into his great father's shoes. I can guarantee you that if you, Albus Dumbledore, cannot get an answer from them, then I will not be able to either. It would be a fool's errand for me to try."
Professor Dumbledore nodded, "Perhaps, however, I came across a curious fact just the other day, one that I had in fact forgotten entirely," he paused and lowered his fingers, "As I understand it, the Adjutaire has a rather illustrious reputation for being the most secure wizarding structure in Europe. Wars, both wizard and muggle, have been fought around it, yet the building itself has never been touched."
Etean bowed his head graciously, the games of etiquette had been drilled into him often enough, complimenting France was complimenting Lord Etean, "That's what they say, Professor."
"Yes, but the interesting fact that I learned is that the vaunted and oft lauded strength of the Adjutaire is built, not on the strength of the highly capable French Auror Directorate, but rather, comes from a private security force, known as the Etyar. Even more curious is the fact that this force that has guarded the Adjutaire for centuries without a flaw, and that guards the personal safety of the Committee members to this day, reports not to the Administrative Committee that they guard, or even to the French Auror Directorate, but directly to you, Lord Etean, is that correct?"
Etean shrugged, "On paper yes," he added a touch of contemplation to his voice, "the Etyar answer to me, but in practical terms, the main influence I have over the garrison stationed at the Adjutaire is financial."
Professor Dumbledore smiled, "That may be, but perhaps it will be enough influence to suffice."
'Clever!' "I'm afraid I still do not understand Professor."
"If the Etyar are guarding the Committee, then it stands to reason they are guarding Renée. Therefore, it follows that they would know where he is, and how he might be contacted, don't you agree?"
"That is a reasonable conclusion," he paused, then smiled, "I see, you want me to contact the Etyar and ask where Counsellor Valjean is,"
The Professor nodded, "Correct," Etean nodded then paused, Dumbledore saw his contemplation and frowned, "Is there a problem?"
Etean cocked his head to one side, "Maybe," he moved around slightly, giving himself time to think the situation through, "You see Professor, I won't pretend to know all the workings of the Adjutaire. I doubt that anyone really does. But I have spent enough time there over the years to know that information is about the most valuable commodity that exits inside those walls. As such, it is never passed about lightly and, in a lot of cases, hardly at all. The individual departments covet their secrets closely, and the Department of External Security is perhaps the most secretive of the lot, as you have discovered,"
Dumbledore frowned, "I have?"
"Yes. In your efforts to contact Renée, no doubt you have had to deal with his assistant, a lady named Michelle DeRoche who is, if my memory serves, a thoroughly pleasant woman," he made no effort to hide the scorn in his voice, "But whatever her personal feelings, she would only have been following the orders she was given. Therefore all the delays, the half answers and the waffle you have received was carefully planned and designed."
"Ah."
Etean nodded, then continued, "The question is, why the information was kept from you?" he tilted his head to the side, "It may be that it's nothing more than the usual secrecy nonsense…but it could be something else."
Professor Dumbledore sat forward, his eyebrows raised in surprise, "Something else? Such as?"
Etean shrugged, "Who knows? Almost everyone that works in the Adjutaire is up to something most of the time. Most of it is official…some of it isn't," he shook his head to stall the question, "My point, Professor, is that if Counsellor Valjean's whereabouts are being kept quiet, then there is a reason for it. Now, it is highly probable that the Etyar captain on station knows where Counsellor Valjean is, and I am fairly certain that he will tell me if I ask him. He will also likely tell me what Counsellor Valjean is doing, or at least why his whereabouts is being kept quiet, and at that point I will have to make a decision. You see, while I may have access to that information…"
"I may not," Dumbledore interrupted, "I see."
Etean nodded, "Yes, and if that is the case, then I will have to choose whether or not to break quite a few laws by divulging that information to you,"
"Something I would never ask you to do Mr. Etean,"
"No?"
"No, as I said, I am asking for a favour, I have no grounds to order you to do this. Nor would I ever ask anyone to betray their morality. But, if you will, perhaps there is a way to avoid such a complication."
"Yes?"
Dumbledore reached into his robes and drew out a sealed letter. "This is the message I have been trying to deliver to Renée. I don't see any legal or ethical reason why you could not simply arrange for it to be delivered to him personally."
Etean smiled, "And a message hand delivered on the order of Lord Etean would be…difficult for any French official to ignore."
"Indeed," Dumbledore offered Etean the letter, "Does this seem like something that you could arrange?"
"It is certainly possible, Professor," Etean nodded.
Dumbledore held the letter out to him, "I will not ask you not to read it, its contents will reflect on you after all."
"I feel I should be clear, Professor," Etean reached out and took the letter, "I will see to it that he reads this, but I cannot guarantee anything more than that. Renée Valjean does not answer to me in any way other than what is considered socially polite."
Dumbledore smiled wide, "Understood perfectly, and it is more than acceptable. Thank you."
Etean pocketed the letter and stood to leave, "Goodnight, Professor."
"Goodnight," Etean was at the door when the Professor called him, "One more thing, Mr Etean."
"Yes?"
"I meant what I said when I told you this was a favour. I invite you to remember it, as I will endeavour repay it one day, should the need arise."
Etean nodded, "I understand perfectly, goodnight," he repeated and left.
He reached the outside of the office and stopped. So, Dumbledore wanted him to help him open negotiations? He shook his head, Renée Valjean? Of all people, why him? Dumbledore must really be getting desperate if he seriously thinks he'll be able to convince him to sign on for bringing France into the open war. Still it made sense, he was somewhat militantly minded as politicians went and granted, his personal history with Voldemort meant that there was a greater chance of getting his vote than any of the other Committee members. But still, if Poliakov was to be believed, and he was, then there was no way in hell that France would enter the war anytime soon. Anyone who voted to would be going against the majority vote, something that normally meant political suicide inside the Adjutaire. Whatever personal motivations Renée might have, and they were many it had to be said, he would never agree to risk France's security unless he was left with no choice.
Still, Dumbledore seemed determined to try, and being owed a favour by the Hogwarts Headmaster would certainly not be a bad thing, so Renée would get his letter, and he would read it. The odds of him replying were beyond miniscule but that wasn't Etean's problem.
Etean moved off. He didn't make it ten steps before he sensed that he wasn't alone. A sense of fear…trepidation…confusion… 'What?' His eyes narrowed as Granger appeared ahead of him. She seemed startled, as though he had caught her doing something she wasn't supposed to be doing.
'What is she still doing here?' he thought. "Something I can help you with?" he asked her.
"No…I…wh," she stammered slightly, "What did Professor Dumbledore keep you behind for?"
'Does she really think I'm going to answer that?' "I don't think that is any of your business, do you?" he all but spat the response at her before moving off.
Granger moved to block him, "I was just…curious," she said quietly.
Etean felt his jaw tighten, what did he care if she was curious? He turned to look at her, willing her to just go away, but it didn't seem to be happening. In the end, he decided to answer her, if only to shut her up, "He wanted my help with something."
That was it. That was all she was getting. Etean pushed past her and headed off.
"Why?"
Her question surprised him, 'What the hell?' He was about to hurl a nasty remark at her about the blatant stupidity of her question, but found that he really just wanted to end this conversation, "I am Lord Etean," he said over his shoulder, "Sooner or later, everyone wants my help."