Ch. 8 — A Private Little War
Despite their success with the Goblins, it was a very gloomy Christmas in Grimmauld Place. In fact, it was the most depressing Christmas Harry had ever experienced. Oh, he had been depressed at the Dursleys for being ignored, and had frequently wallowed in self-pity during hols while there. But he had never been in a place where death hovered over every conversation, where they expected at any minute to hear someone dear to them had died in horrible agony while they stood nearby, watching, unable to do anything to save them.
But, unlike everyone else, he was used to being unable to affect his situation — and being kept in the dark by adults. Still, it was very oppressive. And his scar periodically hurting and giving him headaches, didn't help.
All things considered, though, he was having a good Christmas. Not a great Christmas, but good would do. Hermione was a big help. She spent hours distracting him with coloured-coded detailed plans on how to get the Goblins into the school without detection. And badgering everyone to catch up on the schoolwork they had let slide because of the ship.
Which was remarkably effective at both tasks for them; catching up and distracting. At least for a little while each day.
By Christmas day, she had a dozen different schemes for sneaking the Goblins into Hogwarts, with another dozen contingency plans for each. They ranged from feasible to bordering on the silly, and required a varied amount of luck for each — from a little to an awful lot. One, though, left him puzzled. He was sure she meant as a joke — she wanted the Goblins to walk in the front gates and pretend to be leprechauns searching for gold? With green clothes, green top hats, red beards, and four-leaf clover boutonnieres? Really?
Knowing wizards, however, it just might work.
He just wished there was something he could do for his friends.
It was hard to find cheer when Mr. Weasley was stuck in stasis in a hospital. The more jovial members of the Order failed to cheer up them up. Even the gift-giving on Christmas Day didn't cheer anyone up — each was opened silently and solemnly, examined, and then set aside.
Percy's failed to show up, or acknowledge his family with gifts. He even sent back his personalized jumper, which had set Molly off crying. The others were angry and depressed about their prat of a brother.
"This place is like a bloody mausoleum," Sirius said gloomily. "I'd hoped that maybe . . . but no. I guess not." He stared at the table top in the kitchen.
"Their dad might die, Sirius," Harry said reproachfully. "It's not like a normal illness where someone dies rather quickly and you can grieve for the loss. This . . . uncertainty is just dragging them down."
Sirius sighed and nodded guiltily. "Yeah. Well, what did you think of your gift?" he asked, changing the topic to something not so weighty.
"The two-way mirror?" Harry said, and smiled. "It's really neat. It would be so useful to have a full set for my friends." He paused and took a drink from his cup of tea. "I actually have something similar for you. Here," he said, and took a somewhat hastily wrapped up box out of his pocket. He handed it to Sirius. "Open it."
Surprised, Sirius arched his eyebrows. He messily tore the box open and stared at the smooth, triangular stone. It was a stripped-down version of the communication stone from the Requirement — not that he knew it. "I'm guessing this is not a pet rock?" he said, holding it up.
"You don't like pet rocks?" Harry said in a stricken tone. His chin quivered, and he blinked rapidly as his eyes grew watery.
"I love it! I love it!" cried the suddenly panicked wizard. "It's wonderful . . . so nice and . . . smooth! And it's . . .." That was when he noticed Harry's pursed lips as he tried to suppress a smirk.
"You prat!" he said accusingly, but without heat, smiling. "Ya got me."
Harry laughed lightly. "I take my humour when I can," he said lightly.
Sirius nodded. "Not a lot around at the moment," he said dryly.
"It's a communications stone," Harry continued more seriously, and pulled his collar up. Stuck inside, hidden from view, was Harry's stone. "It's something me and my mates made. Tap it like this, and then can talk into it. I'll hear it through mine."
Sirius blinked and tapped the rock, then bleated like a sheep at it, which echoed out of Harry's rock. He grinned.
Sirius's stone, however, wasn't like the others. It was only a limited-link stone, almost all the other features had been locked out.
The Requirement's communication stones were actually extremely small and highly efficient computers, they had discovered. Each could hold more information than was in the national British Library and the U.S. Library of Congress, combined, by an incredible number of orders of magnitude!*
Hermione and Lee said the stones used a molecular storage system based on silver. They could be interfaced with every command platform on the ship, transferring data — programs, patterns, and other information — from one console or stone to another. The communication feature in them was really just a tiny part — their main function was data storage. But it was a feature the crew was most happy to appropriate and expand.
They would probably be used in the credit scheme Lee had suggested for the conjurator. Which would make the communicators work as the D.A.'s ship-borne credit cards, as well.
Plus, Angelina thought she could put together an identity routine in them. Each stone would recognize each crew member, and provide their personal data on request. "It should be impossible to access anything but your own records," she had said. "Plus, unauthorized people will only be able to initiate the general communication function if they come across a stone," she explained. "And it'll be muted on their end until unlocked by a crew member directly answering them."
Harry had just given the first attempt at such a stone to Sirius.
"Well, seems very handy," Sirius said. "Much easier to hide than a two-way mirror, anyway. I'd wondered why you guys had these things."
"They have their uses," Harry said, looking at him thoughtfully. "You . . . will use it if you get into trouble, right?" he asked. "I'd rather you not end up like Mr. Weasley."
"I solemnly swear I will do my best to avoid that," Sirius promised solemnly.
Harry was not that reassured. But he would take that answer over nothing.
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Late the next day, Boxing Day, Harry and Hermione talked the others into another shopping trip — for bargains. Really, it was just an excuse to get out of the gloomy atmosphere that pervaded Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. They went to the Alley . . . well, Flourish & Blotts, first. Hermione seemed determined to get every book that wasn't already at Hogwarts. She would have gone for delivery from the catalogue, but they didn't yet have an accessible and secure building address.
They had been there about an hour when an Eagle Owl, with Gringotts on its delivery pouch, flew in the door and headed for Harry. Embarrassed at the attention he was suddenly attracting from all the other customers, Harry quickly relieved the bird of its letter. It immediately flew off.
Hermione pulled him back to a poorly lit corner, and away from anyone else. "Well, what's it say?" she demanded.
"Give me moment to read it, will you?" He broke the seal. His eyes shot open.
Hermione snatched the letter out of his loose grasp. A second later she said, "They found one! Already!?"
They rushed through their purchases, then Harry distracted Sirius while Hermione called Dobby. Dobby took the books back to the castle, and thence to the ship. She told Sirius, when he asked, that she had shrunken the packages and put them in her pocket.
The two of them hurried into Gringotts, Sirius tailing them and looking for danger. Harry handed the letter to the first Goblin they saw. He immediately conducted them to the same room they had been in just a few days ago. Sirius waited in the lobby.
"About time," Sharpnose sneered. "You are a difficult person to find."
Harry shrugged. "I am forced to stay in a house under a fidelius," he said calmly.
The Goblin grunted. He leaned over and picked up a bag, then set it on his desk. He carefully opened it and dumped the object inside, out. He stared at them.
The object was a small golden cup with two finely-wrought handles. A badger was engraved on the side and a few jewels decorated it.
Harry rubbed his scar, it had started to ache slightly as soon as they had entered the bank. Now it ached even more. Not as bad as before, but noticeable. Harry looked at Hermione and nodded.
She grimaced, but opened her beaded purse and hefted out a gold bar, which she then placed on the Goblin's desk.
He grinned widely, put the cup back in the bag and slid it towards her. She made another grimace, but retrieved the bag and dropped it into her purse.
The grin on Sharpnose's face disappeared and he looked angry. "It was found in a vault in the bank. We do not allow wizards, or witches," his eyes flicked to Hermione, "to store dangerous items, such as that, without paying for extra protections. Ten percent of the vault's value has been credited to your Vault, Mr. Potter, as the search was paid for by yourself. We took half of the vault as penalty for failing to advise us of the thing they had stored." He glanced down at the gold bar. "You already have made a profit on the contract, even if we find a dozen of these things."
Harry and Hermione leaned back in reflection. There must have been a lot of gold in that vault, Harry realized. Not that he really cared about getting that much gold. But it did mean there was that much less gold for Voldemort to use, as without a doubt, the vault owner was one of his followers.
As soon as they left the bank, they alerted Lee. He had a new silver box for them that Dobby delivered before they left the Alley.
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Getting the Goblins in and out of Hogwarts was a rousing success, and a bit anti-climactic. Lee apparated a Goblin into the tunnel underneath Honeydukes. He, in-turn, brought the rest of the rendering team. Liberal use of silencing and invisibility charms, and cloaks, made the dashes to and from Myrtle's toilets a cinch. Especially as they were made at three in the morning and everyone in the castle as asleep. Which Harry had confirmed before the manoeuvre by using the Marauders' Map. The rendering itself, even with magic helping, took two days. Then they were snuck out at three in the morning the following night.
Harry and Hermione were on pin-and-needles the whole time, expecting something to go wrong, stuck as they were in Number Twelve. Lee saw to it that their portions of the renderings were moved directly from Myrtle's toilets to the ship, and properly stored in a secure compartment.
Everyone was happy at the successful conclusion of the mission.
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The general mood hadn't improved much by the time they headed back to Hogwarts — the Weasleys were still gloomy and quiet — even the idea of returning to the ship didn't cheer them up much. Especially as there had been no progress on the hunt through the ship's systems. The aliens apparently never got sick, or had accidents — Harry didn't believe that for a second, but the lack of progress was depressing, nonetheless. Harry and Hermione had given up trying to comfort them — it only annoyed them.
Harry could understand why. It had been the same when his friends had tried to cheer him up when he had to return to the Dursleys during summer hols. Nothing they said or did could change what was happening. Or would happen.
They had been most lively while working on those things tied to Voldemort. So, instead, maybe he should think about plans to distract them, somehow. Perhaps . . . he could give them duties on board the ship? They couldn't be frivolous or seem silly, but what?
And then it was time to go back.
Harry, Hermione, and Ron quickly located their regular cabin at the back of the train. Those members of the D.A. who had gone home stopped by to say hello, but they spaced themselves out and used mild notice-me-nots to avoid any undue interest. To Harry's dismay, each had an "extra-credit essay" to give him, sometimes two. Almost all of the essays concerned things the "crew" wanted to do themselves, or that should be considered done for the benefit of the entire group.
Ernie Macmillan, after handing in his two essays, sat down and looked at Hermione earnestly. "This cup the Goblins found for you, it was about this big, right?" He held his hand about two fists apart, one above the other.
Hermione nodded.
"And it had two handles, one on each side?"
She nodded again.
He took a breath, took a book out of his rucksack — it was Hogwarts: A History — and opened it to a bookmarked page. "Did it look like this?" he said, handing the book to her.
Her eyes shot open. "Oh. Merlin!" she whispered. "I should have remembered!"
Harry looked over from the side. There was a full-colour picture of the cup the Goblins had given them. Underneath it was the caption, "Helga Hufflepuff's Cup, said to enhance any potion poured into it. The Smith family has claimed it as a family Heirloom for many centuries. It is believed to have been stolen and lost in 1961."
On the opposite page was a drawing of a diadem. Its caption said, "Rowena Ravenclaw's Lost Diadem, said to enhance one's ability to concentrate and think. It disappeared upon her death and has never been seen since."
Hermione gulped and nodded, "Yes, that's the cup."
"Shite," Ernie said dejectedly and vehemently.
Hermione turned to the previous page.
The drawing there was of the locket they had left with the Goblins, the one that they suspected that was the same as Riddle's diary — possessed. It, too, had been stolen from the Smiths in 1961.
Opposite was a fourth drawing, this time it said, "Godric Gryffindor's Lost Sword, said to present itself to any true Gryffindor in a moment of need. It disappeared upon his death and has never been seen since."
She stared at it, then said. "I'm seeing a pattern here, Captain."
Harry stared at her.
"A diary, which is a personal item, important to Riddle. A locket, which is a personal item and important to a Hogwarts founder. A cup, which is a personal item and important to a Hogwarts founder. The last two are in the paintings we have of the founders."
She looked at Harry, pale-faced, "He defiled ancient Founder artefacts!"
Harry looked back. "But we know Gryffindor's sword isn't cursed," he said.
"Riddle probably never found it. Or the enchantments were too strong for him. Or he thought three was a good magical number to stop at." She said stiffly. "But he might have found and been unable to resist using the diadem. Which would be four."
"So there's probably at least one more of those."
"But four is not a good magical number. Five would be more likely."
"So . . . two?"
She nodded.
He shrugged. "Well, we'll just have to see what the Goblins come up with." He grinned. "It's not like we won't have enough gold bars, is it?"
Ernie listened to their discussion quietly. He looked at them a moment, then said, "We need a scanning and projecting function added to the stones. That way, someone can show you what they are looking at. The stones could project an image on a wall or something. And recording, just in case."
Ernie wasn't the first, nor the only one, to think of that, Harry realized as he started reading the essays, later.
Several people suggested that the communication stones be made more useful. They wanted not only see what another was looking at, but to be able to actually scan and create a three-dimensional image to display, if the object was small enough. Recording functions, both audio and video were highly recommended.
Alicia Spinnet's first essay dealt with the issue from a different point. She suggested what she called a "Star Trek-like Communicator and Tricorder" based on a square, mirrored compact. The mirror part would double as a screen — like Sirius' mirrors, but she didn't know that — and let people see who they were talking to, unlike the current communicators. That wouldn't really be a reason to replace the current ones, however, as the current ones were far too convenient.
However, the "tricorders" would have abilities that the current ones didn't. They could easily be used as cameras, with zoom and macro features, which would allow the user to them focus on things other than what was straight ahead, without having to take off the stones. They could be used to view recordings or pictures privately without alerting any bystanders. Or used to peek around a corner at arm's length and still converse without shouting.
Adding the ability of a "virtual keyboard" would let them become extremely versatile appointment and time management tools, as well as ways to prepare reports and send messages when speaking would be a liability. Most people who used typewriters could type faster than they could write, according to the paper. Plus, there were never any issues of illegibility.
Other features that could be added included maps, language translators — both written and verbal, clocks for areas other than the time zone one was in, and having a display for viewing things in the infra-red or other high and low frequencies that humans normally couldn't see. They would be especially useful at analysing things in the field and immediately viewing the results.
Best of all, if anyone found one, they would dismiss it as woman's mirrored case.
Harry put in a quick note that that was a project worth pursuing, and to work with Angelina and Lee to see what they could do. He also asked what boys could carry instead of a compact which most girls used check their makeup. A hard wallet? One that appeared as a normal muggle/wizard wallet, but if a crew member touched a certain spot while opening it, it was a tricorder? Or, perhaps, a paperback book could be used? A non-crew member would think nothing of seeing someone with a book.
"Have you thought about the batteries?" Harry asked Hermione as he went over the other essays. Lots of them had to do with muggle gadgetry — Marietta wasn't the only one to suggest a tricorder device. The command stones — unlike normal muggle technology — worked inside Hogwarts, after all. As a result, a lot of the muggle-born and half-blood members in the D.A. were hoping that conjuring up versions of TVs, VCRs, and maybe gaming consoles, would be possible, and then made to work in the school.
"Well, a little," Hermione said. "I've been mostly thinking of the next version of the hover-board. Mind you, we'd need spacesuits to actually use them outside the ship."
"The twins were working on something like spacesuits, I think," Ron said dully, staring out of the window at the countryside. "I mean . . . before."
That he had even noticed them talking without directly addressing him was unexpected
Harry nodded slowly. "Did they manage to make anything, yet?"
He shrugged dejectedly. "I dunno," he responded. "Ask them."
Deciding to take a break, Harry went searching for them. They were holed up with their sister, Alicia Spinnet, and Katie Bell. The two older girls were reading books, supporting their friends just by being there. The others just silently stared at the floor.
"Hey guys," he said softly on entering. Alicia and Katie looked up expectantly, probably hoping for a reaction to their essays, but Harry shook his head slightly and kept his eyes on the twins. "How are the spacesuits coming along?"
With heavy sighs, the twins dragged themselves out of their gloom to explain their progress. "We looked into what muggle spacesuits look-like and what they do," said one as he dragged one hand tiredly over his face.
"Then we tried to figure out a magical version of them," said the other just as gloomily.
"There were an awful lot of environmental charms, you know."
"It's not that easy to prevent the person inside from suffocating, freezing, or boiling, or all three at once."
"Then we attempted to figure out a tech version of it."
"Turns out, the ship's library has a lot of records on closed environment suits."
"Who'd've thought, right?"
They were both slowly getting more exited as they talked.
"All we really need to do is put in size and anatomy requirements."
"You know, what temperature is ideal, and what we breathe."
"Then we can replicate as many suits we want," George said.
"We were working on trying to make them look cool," Fred shrugged. "The first one we conjured was pretty weird looking. And now we think, well . . . maybe . . ."
"Now we want to armour them," George said with a frown.
"Make them as strong as we can. And then, maybe . . . give or sell them or something — just get them to the Order members."
"So that they don't . . . end up like Dad."
"Ah," Harry said and considered it. "Have you talked it over with Lee?"
"Yeah, he promised to look at Muggle stuff, what armour muggles use and stuff."
"He said something about carbon tubes?"
"Carbon nana tubes," Fred corrected his brother. "And poly-mayors. And keflor — or something like that."
"Ah," Harry said thoughtfully. "Let me know when you have something," he said. He stood a long moment, deliberating, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand. "I rather think we're all going to need some armour before long," he added thoughtfully. "I wonder what kind of shields the ship has? According to the Hermione, the ship can easily hold up against weapons fire." He looked over at the twins. "How do you think they hold up against spell fire? And if they do . . . can they be miniaturised in any way? Maybe you should check in with Lee and Hermione on that. Between them and you, I'm sure we can cobble something together that would keep us safe no matter where we were, on the ship or off."
Everyone in the cabin looked at him and considered what he had said.
"Captain?" Fred finally said. "Are we going to fight him?"
Harry sighed and looked around the compartment at each of them. "I've faced off against either him or one of his stooges every year. Why should this year be any different?" He shook his head. "Yeah. I'd say the chances are high we'll have to, at some point," he continued darkly. "I guess . . . I guess it's time we started really looking into how we can take advantage of the ship, and how what it has can benefit us. We've played around long enough. It's time to gear up and get ready for this war."
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Those members of the D.A. that had remained in Hogwarts — and on Requirement — hadn't sat idle. Especially not after word that Mr. Weasley had been mysteriously attacked and was in hospital, and the ensuing debate about what had happened and why. Everyone in the D.A. now suspected that Mr. Weasley had gotten hurt — and now lay at death's door — while somehow fighting Voldemort or at least his forces, and that had a very clear impact on everyone.
Word had been passed, and there was a D.A. meeting that night after curfew.
They gathered on the Bridge, with Jupiter as a backdrop.
"Okay, Captain, here it is," Terry Boot said and handed Harry something that looked like a command stone at first glance. "That's the idea I mentioned, and why I wanted permission to use the conjurator over the hols."
"And this is?" Harry asked as he studied it. It was like a command stone in that the centre piece was the same material and colour. The stone, and the dull-metal frame that held it, were both thick irregular hexagons, not quite as big around as his palm.
"Put it in the centre of your chest, and tap the stone," Terry eagerly said.
"It's not going to blow me up, is it?" Harry asked, even as he did as instructed. It stuck to him with the strange magnet-like clamp that the control and communication stones did. Hermione had told him it had something to do with molecular fields and attractions, or some such thing. She'd lost him after the first three words.
Harry hesitated a moment, but when he did tap the stone, he felt a flowing sensation rush across his skin. He . . . rippled in the light as something surrounded him. It wasn't exactly luminous, but if light had a physical form, it might've been like that. It was almost like someone had both thrown and dumped a bucket of water over him, the water running up and down and enveloping Harry entirely. Then . . .
Then he was invisible.
While everyone stared at the spot where Harry had been — and still was, even though no one could see him, Terry explained. "The ship has its own invisibility cloak, of sorts," he said. "I can't make heads or tails of the science, it has something to do with bending light or some such nonsense. It took a bit of work, but I managed to, well . . . miniaturise it."
Hermione looked fascinated. "How is it powered?" she asked, excitedly. "And how long does it last?"
"It has the same type of micro-power source as the command and communication stones do — which is to say, not a lot. It uses a lot more power than the stones so while we can talk pretty much forever through them, the cloak . . . well it has maybe enough juice for three hours, then you're in the hard lines," Terry admitted. "Still, this just a prototype. It could be a viable way of getting our people in and out of the ship without anyone ever noticing."
"Oh, this is . . . this is brilliant," Harry said breathlessly. He took the cloak . . . thingy . . . off his chest and looked at it admiringly. "This is the final version? After you figure out the power situation, that is, this is how it's going to look?"
"Well, not really. I wanted to put all the components into one piece, so I could see how it worked," Terry said modestly. "This one's basically just a display version. Now that I have the necessary components in place and know it works, I could probably fit it into pretty much anything that was big enough, about half its current size." He nodded at the device. "Depends on the battery, though. The bigger the battery, the more space it's going to take."
"Brilliant," Harry murmured. "Very, very brilliant." He turned the cloak device in his hands repeatedly. He looked up with a smile. "What else have you been working on?" He didn't really expect anything. This cloaking device was more than a big enough Christmas present to them all.
"Well," Terry said. "We made a basic secure trunk." He motioned to a bunch of metallic-looking trunks stacked by the wall. "They will only open when you place the right command stone on the lid. We're still working on them, unfortunately. All the unlock spells we tested, alohomora and so forth, are blocked because the locking mechanism is too complicated for a spell to simply flip a tumbler or slide a bar and unlock it. But more complicated lock picking spells? Probably would pop them open, so . . .," he grimaced, "they're still a work in progress."
"Hmm . . .." Harry nodded. "Better concentrate on the invisibility cloak device first," he said, and handed the device back. "How long do you think it will take before we can conjure a cloak for every D.A. member, at least?"
Terry shrugged. "That depends on how long it will take to figure out a better power source," Terry admitted.
Harry shrugged, "Just the current model right now, for emergencies. We can always use them for materials when the new ones are ready."
"I might have some ideas batteries," Hermione said. "I've been thinking about them for another project."
"Perfect. You two work together on that," Harry said. "Now, has anyone else got anything to show off?"
The D.A. members exchanged looks, but no one spoke up.
"In that case, I have something to say to you all. Is everyone here?" He glanced around the room once more. It appeared everyone was there. And Harry could've sworn some of them actually stood at attention to listen. A few he saw with their hands clasped behind their backs. They all watched him attentively. It was . . . oddly gratifying. And a bit worrying, too. But for now, he let it slide.
"In light of recent events, I'd like to introduce a sort of agenda for . . . well, I suppose, for the crew of the D.S.S. Requirement," Harry said, and saw a lot of chins tilt up. It seemed that some liked the sound of that — crew of the Requirement.
"We have a lot of opportunities here that no one else has; we have knowledge and manufacturing capabilities that no one else on Earth has. I think it's time we put that to use. As of now, I want to prioritise equipment, items, and any sort of devices that might ensure the protection and safety of D.A. members."
Harry motioned to Terry. "The invisibility cloak device is a bloody good start, and an example of what I mean, as are the spacesuits the twins are working on," he said.
Everyone turned to look at the surprised twins.
"I want a lot more ideas like those. Shields, armour, the full monty. If you can come up with an instant bandage, or a healing device, that would be splendid. Just . . . anything you can think of which might save your or your mates' hide in a fight, or war, or . . . any sort of terrible situation. Any questions?"
Marietta Edgecombe's hand shot up. "Are we going to war with the Ministry, sir?" she asked worriedly, her anxiety carving lines on her face.
Harry studied her carefully — how she stood and her apprehensive expression. Then he looked around the room and took in the similar stances and looks of a few others. That was a real concern for them, he realized. Nearly everyone else had a frown or their eyebrows arched at the question.
He shook his head. "As much as the Ministry seems to want to be our enemy, I'm actually thinking of Voldemort and his people." Many of the D.A. members flinched at the name.
"Still, anyone here who isn't prepared to fight, doesn't have to. I am not making an army here," he said as he shook his head. "I just want you guys safe. I would hate," he paused, "hate to discover that you or your families had been attacked or killed, and that there was something on this ship that could have protected or saved you and we didn't know it." He shook his head back and forth, hard, several times.
"So, if we come up with, say, a body armour that can withstand spell fire? One which we might be able to hand over to those people who are fighting the war? That would be really, really ace." He gave them another sweeping look.
"You are going to go to war, aren't you, Captain?" Ron asked quietly.
Harry made a wry expression. "I've been at war since I first arrived at Hogwarts, as you all know. I don't think anything I could do would keep me out of it. So, yeah," Harry said, as he shrugged. "But I'm not looking to drag anyone with me. No one who doesn't want to fight, has to fight, period. But I'd appreciate your help in getting prepared, anyway."
He stopped and grinned. "And we've got the ultimate safe house, don't we?" He waved his arms in an expansive gesture to point around them at the ship. "With plenty of room for non-combatants and their families. If it comes to that."
The ship, they had concluded could easily house several thousand people. And they had the patterns in the ship's conjurator to build a complete city in space that could be home to almost the entire wizarding population — limited to non-Voldemort supporters, of course — if they so desired.
The meeting quickly disbanded after that. Everyone looked thoughtful and worried. Harry wasn't sure if it was intentional or not, but soon he was alone on the bridge. The elevator's doors closing left him in solitude.
It was just him, and the vast expanse of Jupiter outside the window — and slowly, Harry finally begun to relax. For the first time in two weeks, he had a truly restful night in his cabin.
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Whether it was his little speech and request, or the Daily Prophet's lead article on Monday about the breakout from Azkaban of Voldemort's top ten lieutenants, the D.A. members began concentrating heavily on the Requirement and its manufacturing capabilities. There was an atmosphere of seriousness about the D.A., now, and even those who hadn't previously done much around the ship began to chip in. Everyone was learning ancient runes now, with text books and dictionaries easily conjured on the ship, and all notes eagerly shared. It was no longer an esoteric subject of dubious use in the rest of the world.
In addition, they were scouring the ship's systems for anything that might be of use.
The extra work saw them skimping on sleep, and they quickly learned how to get by with only five- or six-hours sleep. An occasional Invigorating Draught was a common method of coping. They were careful to regulate that, as none of them wanted any of the known side-effects due to overuse of the potion. And every week or so, they slept for twelve or eighteen hours straight — usually a Saturday or Sunday so they wouldn't miss any classes.
Serious strides were being made with the "tricorders," as everyone had started calling them. The first ones were simply the normal communicator stones, now called communicator badges, installed in a frame with mirrors that acted as display screens, with new updates and changes being made available almost every other day. Which made sharing information nearly instantaneous, and allowed everyone to work without lugging what felt like tons of books around with them.
Even Harry started to learn the runes, and he had to admit, he should've started months ago. It certainly made navigating around the ship simpler.
Bizarrely, it was Neville Longbottom who threw himself into study and practice over and above anyone else. The news of his parents' attackers' escape had wrought a strange and slightly alarming change in him. He barely spoke during actual D.A. meetings anymore, but worked relentlessly on every new jinx and counter-curse that Harry came up with, his plump face screwed up in concentration. He ignored injuries or accidents, working harder than anyone else in the room. It was quite unnerving how quickly he was improving. When Harry taught the enhanced Shield Charm so that curses rebounded upon the attacker, only Hermione mastered the charm faster than Neville — by seconds.
Plus, when he wasn't practicing the spells, he was studying the runes with a concentration unmatched by the any other. Harry almost never saw him sleeping, and he seemed to be taking the Invigoration Draught rather frequently. As soon as he had made sufficient progress, he dove into the ship's library systems with equal fervour, a runes' dictionary and tricorder at his elbow.
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A.N. * A gram of silver contains ~6.6x10^21 atoms (~0.011 moles — Avogadro's Number). Both the Library of Congress and British Library contain about 170 million items — 1.7x10^8 items (we'll ignore the fact that many items are duplicates between the libraries, and in them). If we assume all those are books, and that each book is approximately ten megabytes in size (a survey of 200 epub books in my library showed an average of 4 megabytes, but textbooks are usually thicker), that takes up roughly 3.4x10^16 bits of storage at ten bits per byte (ten is easier to work with than eight and allows a bit more flexibility for different languages and photos). Because most computer storage systems have about a ten-percent overhead in blocking and file-related issues, that gives us about 3.7x10^16 atoms being used. That leaves room for 178,000 times more information. Per gram.
However, cosmic rays can flip the orientation of an atom if they score a direct hit. Hence, you'll want to store everything in four redundant files so that you can compare the data. If a piece of data in one gets flipped, the other three will still have the correct information. This would reduce practical storage room to only 59,000 times more than all books, videos, and sound recordings currently available. Per gram of storage capacity.
Even if it takes ten atoms to mark a bit instead of one, that still leaves room for 4,250 times more items. And it takes 28.3 grams to make an ounce, so even using several grams for storage leaves the Comm Stones extremely light!