Chapter 59

14 weeks since the Toclafane invaded...

Hermione leant against the small pier allowing her hand to drop into the creek below her. They were in the early weeks of October, not that anyone really considered the months. They counted the days and the weeks since the Toclafane invaded, then in the second breath what season they were in. The latter was important to the people of Earth...the slaves. The ones that hadn't been able to fight the Master's conditioning, fight the Archangel Network, or were too tired, too worked to death to muster any fight against him. The seasons changing were important because many of them would die.

That was a simple, literally cold fact. So many being worked to near exhaustion, being crammed into accommodations around the country, around the world. Those places not destroyed and damaged by the Toclafane.

The Resistance had tried thus far to seed medical professionals out to the work camps around the country. Torchwood Four dealt with some of that as did the Resistance here, she knew Harry had helped transport several of them some weeks ago.

'Something to distract me.' Harry had said, thinking of Daphne she presumed, or perhaps the mammoth task ahead, or maybe just the numbers.

She'd only been curious. The numbers of survival, the statistics that defined the human race and how it would go forward.

'Decimate the population.' That's what the Master had ordered of the Toclafane. One of the science students had joked in a dark way that it needed to have included an asterisk on that order. They all made dark jokes, their world was full of dark things. Making light of it seemed to be the way to get through each day, each week.

She'd heard about what happened to Hogwarts from Laura Madley and Adrian Pucey in the 'Arms shortly after they'd got back. You couldn't have too much of a drink there, the beer was rationed. Though there was already a still out the back, some enterprising person, Hermione didn't know who was now cooking up their own spirits. 'Tonic of the Resistance' or something.

After the tunnel's immobilisation they'd done some work supporting those that the Master had been 'displeased with'.

But now she was relaxing as much as she could. The Resistance was readying for the big plan that would be happening soon.

Harry and Ros had gone off to Torchwood Four several times this week to sort out something that Harry described as 'morally questionable', which considering what they all did had some ramifications and meant that what he was doing was even more on the outreaches.

But for now she just wanted some quiet, some time to escape. She had a quite awful book that one of the final raiding parties had brought back from London. The capital was now practically a no-go area. With the packs of wild dogs and other animals that roved the streets and the Toclafane being rabid and ready to kill in the capital no one could go in there without risk of death. At night it was practically suicide.

The book Pride and Prejudice and Zombieswas according to the cover a preview copy and was full of corrections waiting to be made. It was not amazing, but vaguely amusing. An escapist's book from a world of metal globes containing end-point of Humanity and a being in an airship that could never die and wanted to remake their planet in his own's image.

Hermione brought her hand up off the river and tasted the water. Unlike many of the rivers across the world this one was untainted by the Master's machinations.

She had read reports of the destruction and poisoning of the Caspian Sea and an energy spill from the rocket construction that had frozen almost half the length of the Nile. What information was coming from the Resistance in Egypt suggested that its freezing wasn't slowing down either.

But here, on this little pier, alone Hermione could just about forget it all. Though not quite, she still had laser burns on her chest where the armour had slowed but not stopped the Toclafane, spell damage scars on her legs from coming up against some of the Master's wizarding forces. Not Ron however. And of course all the memories, everything witnessed, that she tried her best to compartmentalise, shove into chests, boxes and whatever else within her mind and not think about it. Not forget about it. No.

She wondered if she could just run away to Hogwarts, try and teach what was left of the next generation of wizards. But that wasn't an answer. She understood what Neville wanted to do. But she knew what she wanted to do, what she had to do, what they were all doing. Fighting. Trying to stop or slow the Master down and work out how to survive. How to continue. For the future.

That was what Malfoy was up to, Malfoy and the Professors, he was part of that plan now. Malfoy and his magic cabinets. That had been something of a revelation. That Malfoy could get his hands dirty before all of this happened, before Earth was invaded.

The plan; to escape to Mars was an audacious one, but it was an option nonetheless. It was one that seemed to have some legs. The Toclafane had thus far showed no interest beyond Earth. Their numbers, like most of the numbers they were confronted with were still worrying.

The Toclafane if they wanted could still commit genocide on the human race and there was almost nothing they could do to stop them.

"Granger," said a voice.

Hermione jerked slightly irritated that she'd been caught in her thoughts and not seen him approach, but it was an overcast day, or more likely a smog-cast day from the Master's pollution.

"I was just thinking about you." Hermione looked around and then returned her gaze to the river. "What do you want Malfoy?"

"Pleasant thoughts I hope Granger," his voice was tight and controlled, far more so than usual.

"Not unpleasant thoughts Malfoy." She dipped her fingers into the water again, swirling them around. "I save those for people far more deserving."

"Indeed," he said his voice still tight.

"What do you want Malfoy?"

He walked around and looked down to her. "I...need to show you something. It concerns Harry. It is not pleasant Granger."

Hermione pulled her hand out of the water. Malfoy seemed genuinely upset.

"And you've not told Harry...?" She trailed off.

"Because his instructions were he shouldn't be disturbed," he paused. "Under any circumstances." Malfoy continued after an unnaturally long pause, for him. "But Granger, you should know about this," he paused as she was about to ask what it was about before he continued. "In case of what he does."

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In the deeper parts of Torchwood Four, a short distance from where Oliver Wood had been held stood Harry Potter looking at the man who was hooked up to a drip sedating him. It was a shame to use the medication on such unworthy scum. But spells were something they couldn't use. Not yet.

This man had raped and killed several people, he was one of many people who'd met Wood and who'd featured in his memories that they'd extracted from him.

He was the perfect subject, one of the Master's elite and would soon be posted to the Valiant. That was why they'd put the plan back a week or so, using him would be useful to the plan.

Draco had recommended Owen Cauldwell for this job. He'd left Hogwarts to join St Mungo's but had switched professions and had been working in the Ministry with a department that was related to Hermione's archaeological investigations.

He was someone Draco had been following with interest because 'no one else was, multi-talented wizards show particularly wide focus'.

Cauldwell had also shown particular ingenuity when out missions for the Resistance.

"I think we can replace all of his lower intestines with explosives, with the right spells and potions he won't notice," he said as he drew on a white board beside them, then added. "For a time."

"Good, we want to use this opportunity to knock the Valiant out as much as possible," Jane said and looked to him. "You're still sure that killing the Master shouldn't be our priority Harry?"

It was something they'd been over many times.

While theoretically killing the Master or any Time Lord involved stabbing them through both hearts, or maybe even decapitating them and keeping them so for a long time it wasn't without its risks.

The Doctor, the Doctor he had travelled with had mentioned obliquely how regenerations became more violent the older a Time Lord got, although he hadn't even said that, and had only even hinted at that after Harry had prompted him, and he'd only wanted to do that after his illicit exploring in the TARDIS.

"If we mess up the execution and he just regenerates we will have someone very likely worse than what we have. Disabling the Valiant gets a big weapon out of the sky and will rattle him."

"Making him feel vulnerable would be good. It would probably help Jones' little plan as well," Ros mused.

"You've both read the Master's file." Harry looked between the two women. "UNIT had a good go at profiling him."

"As have you," Jane added.

Harry nodded. "Indeed." He thought to himself, if only he was the man he had been when he'd known him and UNIT had profiled him. "He likes to be 'master of his domain'. If we get into his little fortress in the sky then," Harry clicked his fingers. "he'll start feeling vulnerable and start making rash choices." Hopefully. Harry thought to himself.

"If we are to meet his deadline" Owen pointed to the man unconscious on the bed. "We should begin soon. It is not a simple process."

"How long will you need?" Ros asked Harry.

"Not too long...I want to look at the plans one more time. He'll need the right triggers to be ready to go off when and where we need him to."

-/

Owen was wrecked. Harry had acted as his assistant throughout the procedure, the 'surgery'. A fantastic mix of spell work and scalpel work. There was quite a large bag full of organs and other things removed from the man's body.

Owen promised the man, 'the subject', that was how they were now referring to him, the subject would remain viable for 50 hours. Plenty long enough before there would be any noticeable 'degrading effects'. The potions they would need to pump into the subject prior to the subject being reinserted into the ranks would make sure the subject would survive long enough. Making even those potions had been complicated, taxing even. But Harry hadn't wanted to involve anyone else.

"You've done amazing work," Harry said. It seemed a miracle that the subject was even breathing. There wasn't a sign of any scars, and no sign of how much explosives they'd packed into him.

"Thanks. Jane said there was somewhere I could clean up and wash down?" Owen asked a little faintly.

Harry nodded. "They're just outside. Best I do this without anyone in the room. We don't want to cross streams as it were," Harry said with the smallest of smiles, one returned by Owen.

"Now," Harry said to the subject as he dialled down the sedative that was keeping the subject unconscious and waited for him to wake up.

It seemed to take forever, and then no time at all as he became fully conscious and aware of his surroundings.

"Don't struggle." Harry said, using the subject's name and fixing him with a hard long stare. "You're going to do something for me. You will obey me, in all things. Is that understood?"

"...that...is...understood." The subject almost smiled as he said the final word.

"Good." Harry smiled at the subject. "You will obey me." He said firmly and slowly, gazing into the subject's eyes.

"I will obey...I will obey..." He repeated.

"Good," Harry said as he breathed in and out again slowly staring into the subject's eyes. The subject slowly matched his slow breathing.

Something as complicated as this required a little bit more than just some simple commands. The subject needed to be activated at a certain time, with certain actions and he needed to seem completely normal up to that point. Which was amazing considering the bag of organs beside him.

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Hermione found herself staring into Ron's eyes. She'd not seen his face this clearly since...since a long while.

Around her she could hear muffled screams of terror, wood burning, fires starting.

She tried not to tense or react. Malfoy had warned her of what this memory was. The man whose memory this was Serik, was one of Daphne's shipmates.

He was being held in vice-like grips by some of Ron's minions. Not the Toclafane. But they were here, she could hear them, see them against the twilight.

Around her there were sights, sounds, smells...everything.

Hermione tried to focus on those things, away from Ron for a moment.

"Now, now, Serik," Ron said. Ron stared at him, at them. "We're going to let you live."

Serik tried to shout but his mouth had been gagged.

"I want to send a message to my old mate Harry Potter," he smiled. "Leader of the Resistance." He waved his wand and revealed someone tied to one of the masts of the ship.

Even though she knew what was coming she was still shocked seeing her there. Deep cuts across her body and face dripped with blood and spell damage. She stared hard at Ron and looked past him to Serik.

Ron stepped in front of her gaze with his back to her. "Harry will get this somehow. Extract the memories like he did out friend Oliver. He who taught my old mate Quidditch." Ron smiled.

It was a smile that made her feel quite sick.

To think. She'd had this man in her life, in her bed. It kept her awake many nights.

"Is the red man going to do it, send the message from our Master?" That voice Hermione knew as well. They sounded different, yet they sounded the same. The Toclafane.

"Of course I will." He smiled, a round, warm smile, light almost pouring out of his sunken eyes, like he'd not slept in weeks.

"Your Lord and Master is most displeased Harry. He's creating a new word. A new empire. Something you should be a part of." Ron was crazed.

"I think I preferred Voldemort's rantings." She muttered to herself. Malfoy snorted beside her. "I'd forgotten you were here." She looked briefly to Malfoy who still wore a worried expression.

She knew what was coming and she was making cutting comments. Hermione wasn't sure what to think of herself. Maybe when she saw it, witnessed it that would be different.

"We could be all a part of the New Empire. New and stretching across the stars with the Toclafane!"

"Like the red man. We all like the red man. But some need to be punished, some aren't like the red man, some need to be put to work for the Master." Hermione wanted to drown the Toclafane.

"Harry." Ron fixed a stare at Serik at them, her and Malfoy through Serik's eyes. "It hurts me you've abandoned your friend our Lord and Master. It saddens me you've abandoned me. Your oldest, best friend." He smiled. It made shivers go down Hermione's back. Then he said something cold, with a smile. "And this is for my sister."

Hermione had seen people die. With the Toclafane, the Master's goons, the slaves being worked to death that was inescapable.

She had not seen someone tortured to death. Not like this.

She had certainly not seen someone she'd known, even, loved at one point torture someone to death. It made it thousands of times worse knowing the person.

Knowing Daphne.

-/

They exited the pensive memory and Hermione wondered if she needed to throw up.

That she didn't, that she wasn't panicked, though she was crying was...probably telling. Telling of their new realities.

Instead, Malfoy led her to an adjacent room and she sat, for how long she didn't know.

"Thank you Malfoy."

"For what?" He asked in a neutral tone.

"Accompanying me," she said after a moment.

Malfoy made a noise of indifference.

"How will Harry react?" He asked her after a while.

It still sounded odd for Malfoy to call Harry 'Harry'.

"I don't know," she answered honestly.

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Harry arrived back from Torchwood Four exhausted, but ready for the coming days, he wanted to have a quiet drink and let afternoon slip into night.

It seemed though that was not meant to be.

"If you two are here to tell me you're sleeping together you can keep it to yourselves. I don't care. Possibly use protection," Harry chuckled.

"Ugh, " Draco choked but both seemed very sober.

Worryingly so.

"What's the matter?" Harry asked as he approached them closer.

-/

Ros Myers was in the room with them.

Harry was, as far as Hermione could tell in shock.

Malfoy was on his fourth brandy of the afternoon.

It was good brandy Hermione had to admit, she'd already had two.

Harry's remained untouched. That was Malfoy's contribution to the situation.

Not that Hermione really knew what to do.

"I wonder if they know about the big plan," Harry said after a while.

"We've put out feelers Potter. It doesn't appear so," Myers paused. "We are still a few hours away from final commitment," she asked.

Harry shook his head. "No. We have our assets in place. One big hit to take out the radiation pits and factories. We need to show them we're not going down without a fight." Harry downed the brandy and looked to Malfoy. "This is rather nice brandy is there-"

Malfoy smirked and levitated an old bottle over to Harry.

"Old Boney," Harry smiled a sad smile. "I thought you smashed the last bottle of this?" Harry asked as he poured himself a large glass.

"I lied Potter," Malfoy answered and then sniffed "I wouldn't smash something this rare."

"Drinking it seems a shame," Harry mused quietly.

"Granger's had a few glasses," Draco nodded towards Hermione "I wouldn't worry."

"Oh, yes. Hermione I..." Harry slumped and fell into a chair and seemed to just go blank.

-/

Harry wasn't sure what time it was, only that it was night and Hermione and Draco were still in the room with him.

Hermione was reading one of those damned Harry Potter and the... books that he'd retrieved from his house and to amuse himself (and others) he'd put in the library here. As bookends, he never expected anyone to read them.

It looked like Draco was reading a readiness report of some kind.

"It looks like you're awake again Harry," Draco said looking over the report.

"Did you drug me?" He asked him.

Draco snorted. "Why would I taint good brandy like that?"

"Why indeed?" Harry said in a soft voice. "Why. Indeed."

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A/N:

I always intended to kill Daphne.

In this alternate universe that is.

It wasn't always going to be Ron though who did it. In my very early plans it was going to be someone (someone like Oliver Wood) and Harry would have done something extreme to him.

Then as I wrote and planned this out it became Ron, because there had to be someone who did it, and Ron has become the Master's wizard in charge.

In some plans I did of this chapter Daphne's death would have happened on the street, and witnessed by several people from afar. Then they'd all be assembled and their memories brought together to see who did it.

In some of my other plans this fight would have happened in Portwenn, but that would have meant Harry would have been present or nearby.

So it happens on Daphne's ship, witnessed by someone. With Ron doing essentially the wizard thing of recording it and staring down the barrel of the camera.

In this way I get to have it happen without the main cast of characters being able to do anything about it at the time.

I had considered sending Harry off on a violent rage against Ron, and if it had happened earlier in Harry's life he might have done that. But not now in this darkened future.

So it's just dark, and sad.

If this were a TV series then the credit sequence probably would have been silent.