"General Longbottom," Lucius Malfoy intercepted him as he jogged into the Practice Hall. His fingers curled, beckoning, and Frank paused in his tracks.
"What is it?"
"Emergency meeting," Lucius drawled, stalking further down the hallway. "We need your… expertise."
"Alright," Frank said. "Give me a moment."
He beckoned Dimes- the old soldier would have to give up his break, but he'd make it up to him.
He looked across the room, where the sixth regiment was running through a drill. At the front, Hamidou saluted him. She had been placed, with the rest of the French army, at the very bottom of the rung, but had fast-tracked through the promotion process to become one of his five. It had won him a lot of skepticism from Malfoy and Bones, but he could tell a lot about a person from the way they fought, and Hamidou had been nothing but honorable, on both sides of the field. The new regiment was jumping into alertness, clumsily turning and offering their salute.
Behind him, Lucius nodded, pale hand curling around his walking stick.
"What's going on, sir?" Frank asked.
"Did you hear about the Conference?" Lucius asked, strolling down the hall.
"The ICW?" Longbottom said. He muttered a noise-dampening spell. "Minister Loki thought they were out to give him a hard time about France," Frank said. He frowned. "I know they're angry, but we just wanted to end this as decisively as possible; not to inflame any territorial anxieties-"
"No matter," Lucius said, cutting him off. "What's done is done."
"So then what?" Frank said, glancing around- they had gotten to the arching hallways rimming the inside of the training hall beneath the balconies.
"Some of the things the representatives said…" Lucius said. "The Minister is worried about retaliation."
"Retaliation from outside of France?" Frank said, surprised. "Why…"
Malfoy straightened, the light of a passing window slashing past his face and hair.
"Who knows?" he said. "Some of these more… mixed countries have always resented the better sort."
"I don't know about that," Frank said, scratching the back of his neck. He glanced back at the green-robed soldiers, a sense of foreboding returning to settle in his chest. "Does Loki really think this is a threat?"
"It is to be your utmost priority," Lucius said, fingering his cane.
They were reaching the edge of the hallway, the corner by his little-used office door. Frank glanced back at Lucius, who was looking taut. More tension in Europe.
Instead, he nodded, opening the door.
"Anything else I should know, sir?" he asked.
"Nothing important," Lucius said with a snide smile. "Run down to Pandora when you get a chance; see if there's been… progress."
"Yes, sir," Frank said, walking into his office.
He hung up his hat and ran his fingers through his hair.
Then he sighed, picked it back up, and strode out.
The Muggle Artefacts office was on the sixth landing, just a step above the Department of Mysteries. An engraved sign declared it the Muggle Artefacts office, though this had been covered up with another, messily scrawled parchment, which said Pandora's Box.
Frank picked up the paper, frowning, and knocked.
The door opened by itself. He moved past the towering piles of books, calling, "Pandora?"
"Hm," a voice said, and he glanced over a stack, finding the magical researcher in the process of ungluing two pieces of fabric.
"Ah Frank. I was… just heading out," Pandora said, without looking up from her work.
Longbottom picked his way across the room, clearing the books and then stopping short of what looked like a table of volatile potions.
Pandora finished her project and turned around, holding out a packet of grey.
"Ah, thank...s?" Frank finished uncertainly, unfolding the packet. It was surprisingly heavy- ten stone at least. He unwrapped it, revealing a gray vest.
"Oh are these the-"
"That which you encountered in Russia?" Pandora said, making him wince. "It's better than that- look."
She pointed over to the dummy behind the table, bearing a gray vest similar to the one in his hands. One half was pristine; the other had been peeled back halfway down to reveal a layer of white beneath the gray, and the white had been peeled halfway down again to show something metallic and strange. He reached up and smoothed them over, fingers catching on the black Hydra insignia. He shivered.
"The original vest is like a spotted hornfisher," Pandora was saying. "It redirects magic into the air. Very efficient, but dangerous in large quantities- you should see what it did to the lab."
"I can imagine," Frank said, eyeing the vest in his hands.
"The new one absorbs spells," Pandora continued, as gave it a closer examination. In place of a Hydra insignia was a helmet with curving horns. "See the inside?"
He turned it over. The inside was featureless, save for a dot, a centimeter in diameter, made of some kind of metallic fabric. He touched it.
"It's warm!"
Pandora twitched her wand at the vest and Frank dodged, at the last minute remembering to toss the vest back in the path of the spell.
"My apologies," Pandora said faintly. She was breathing heavily and clutching her side- whatever she had done had taken a lot out of her. "I should have warned you."
"Don't worry about it," Frank said absently, examining the vest. It hadn't changed, as far as he could tell.
"Dot," Pandora said, so he felt for it, awkwardly holding up the rest of the vest.
"It's… cooler?" he guessed, trying to remember what it had originally felt like.
Pandora nodded, straightening up.
"What did you do?" he asked.
"It's a spell that does nothing," she said, "Except expend a lot of power."
"Why-" Frank began.
"Research," Pandora said. "That was ten Stupefy's. Or, well, perhaps eight or nine. I demonstrated it for the minister earlier. We determined that it took twenty or thirty to drain the vest."
Frank raised his eyebrows, looking at the vest with new respect. He knew from experience that Stupefy was one of the most draining spells to cast, far more so than things like Impedimenta and Bombarda, the Bludgeoning hex and slashers like Diffindo, and the surprisingly lightweight Avada Kedavra.
"Is this after twenty Stupefies, then?" he asked, feeling the dot. "Is it dead at room temperature?"
"A little colder," Pandora said. "And no, the minister insisted on draining the vest and then filling it up again."
"Let me guess, he did it in one or two spells?" Frank said, laughing, and Pandora sighed.
"He would do well to devote his talents to science instead of to war," she said, and Frank shook his head, glancing over at the Hydra dummy.
"I'll believe in pacifism when I see it work," he said, hooking the vest over his shoulder. "In the meantime, I'd better get back to it."
"I'll have more out soon," Pandora promised. "But perhaps not soon enough for what's coming."
Frank glanced at her sharply, but she was gathering up her things, hooking her metallic safety goggles to the wall.
"Good evening," she said.
Frank awoke in the middle of the night from a strange dream of orange-robed people reaching over him with metallic goggles, blazing in the harsh light, gloved hands filling his vision with rubber. He was up, sitting bolt upright, his skin a sheen of sweat. Faint sound was pouring in. He sat still for a moment, trying to divine if the ringing in his ears was real or imagined, then bolted out, quickly stripping his nightwear and pulling on his clothes.
Loki was standing at his door with his hand on the railing.
"It's started as we foresaw," he said.
"Do you have visuals?" Frank asked, and Loki spread his fingers, images springing to life around him, some the same thing from a different angle, like a bee's vision. In it he could see wizards beginning to gather in fields and great halls.
Frank watched too, eyes darting from frame to frame, taking in the dim battlefield. Loki had tried to teach him the method for this type of magic, but he hadn't had the knack.
"How many?"
"At most six armies," said Loki, "A coalition of my enemies in the ICW."
Frank gritted his teeth. Loki wouldn't pit them up against something they couldn't handle.
"What's the plan?" he asked.
"You need to defeat Belgium, and quickly," Loki said. "From there, you take on the rest."
"Only that?" Frank grinned weakly. "How much time do we have?"
"Fourteen hours," Loki said. "Twenty if you're lucky."
"Got it," Frank said, feeling his body tense, his head beginning to slip into strategies. "Lots of luck." The fight was coming.
"Is there anything you need?" Loki asked, dissipating the frames.
"Just a few minutes," Frank said, jogging back up the stairs and pulling open the door. "And…" He paused at the threshold sheepishly. "About a vat of coffee, no milk?"
"Already arranged," Loki said, and though his expression was straight-faced, Frank could've sworn his eyes were smirking.
There was coffee at the base, lots of it. Frank gulped down three shots before his lieutenants filed into the room, standing against the wall and saluting. They were skilled men and women who had risen through the ranks as the size of the army had doubled, and doubled again. Lucius had selected them out of Frank's promotion pool, resulting in lieutenants who were competent, loyal, and very… respectful.
He sent off a patronus to Pandora and let them in, beckoning to sit.
"This is a tough one," he said, pushing the urn down the table. They all looked at it uncertainly for a second before Dimes gave a half smile, pouring himself a drink. Dimes was one of the old guard; one of the few he could talk to without feeling uncomfortably aware of his status.
Frank walked around the table, pacing.
"We've been working together these past years, combining our strengths to be the biggest stick in the neighborhood. I know I was not alone in hoping we might never have to go to war again."
It seemed so naive now, watching the army mass outside his door. He began stacking the empty cups, then stopped himself when he realized what he was doing.
He looked at the rest of them, Hamidou and Vance, Vornad and Moon. They were on edge, wound up, taut. Vornad was tapping each of the communication mirrors on his watch with his wand, causing the ones on the others' wrists to glow.
"It's not going to happen this time," Frank said, keeping his voice even. "They're gathering now."
"Plan?" Hamidou asked, checking the wands she kept holstered in her sleeves and shoes.
"They meant to draw us out to Belgium," Frank said. Moon winced and Dimes whistled respectfully. Belgium was known militarily for one thing-its longstanding wards. "Encircle us with the larger force once we were engaged and take potshots from outside the wards." Frank said.
Hamidou frowned.
"Even with this intelligence, this looks bad for us."
Frank nodded.
"Our one advantage is their disunity. They're mobilizing slowly, and the politics are complex. If we give a good enough showing in Belgium, some may even stay behind. Either way, we want to smash this before they go on the offensive."
This brought nods around the table-everyone remembered the Battle of London.
"One more thing." Frank stood up. "They're going after us," he said, "Because they we're beatable. But we can't afford to lose. This is our home and our families we're defending. So let's prove them wrong."
Hamidou stood up first, saluting, and they jumped up, one at a time, an uneven phalanx. Frank looked down at the neat stack of coffee cups on the table.
"Let's go to Belgium," he said.
They swept through Belgium. Frank had been expecting something more; other armies, perhaps, or new spells, even, but all they had to offer was wards, fading wards upon wards like spiderwebs-and no wonder. The wards were a hundred fifty years old, patched and sewn together by newer, less skilled witches and wizards- all they could do was slow them down while the fighters hurled spells into liable weak-points, overloading the inside with magic, bringing down the defenses and then firing on the poor saps.
When they had broken through Bruges, Frank ordered the switch to nonlethal spells, watching the horizon. When they hit the gates of Brussels, Loki appeared to his right, looking ghostly in old, golden armor.
"Hurry up," he urged.
"Why?" Frank said. "What's happening?"
A spell shot through him, sparking green.
"Trying to delay..." Loki said, his voice distant. "-at Laufenburg. Hurry!"
They tore through the last ward, swarming into the city. Frank's mind re-focused as he barked orders-right flank, left flank; all the exercises and training taking over in the tactics of the moment. The Ministry was a peaked stone building in the center of the city-the wards here were much, much older.
Frank handed off to Moon and jogged up to the wall, a few well-placed blasting spells sending its occupants scrambling. Up here he could see churning wizarding city- his green soldiers pressing through masses of mustard-colored fighters, streaming towards the peaked building. The Belgians were completely outmatched. And yet, he'd seen not a whisper of surrender.
"Pandora," Frank said, speaking through his Patronus again. "What is the status of the vests?"
Hers came back immediately, the hare examining the field below the wall dispassionately.
"Two hours," she said.
"Dimes," Frank said, speaking this time into the enchanted mirrors on his wristpiece. "Set the wardbreakers on this. The Doors are down these stairs. Meet me back at Vaalserberg when you're done, unless I tell you otherwise."
"-about you?" Dimes said, his voice coming out muffled. Frank saw a flash of green in the periphery.
"Take five hundred," Frank said, heart beating fast. He hoped he was making the right call on this. "A tenth. I'm pulling forward with the rest."
"-serious?" Dimes yelped. "-ve hundred?"
"Five hundred ground troops and ten infiltrators," Frank said, casting his patronus and sending it out to Hamidou. "All you need is the Doors. No ward can keep us once Loki's inscribed."
"Alright, Commander," Dimes said, voice coming through more clearly. "We'll do our best."
"Dimes?" Frank said, taking one more moment as the soldiers began to gather in groups, awaiting the signal to apparate. "Don't take too long."
"Underst-," Dimes said, cutting off.
Loki was sitting at his desk when Graf's face appeared in the fire. He signed off on the paper and murmured, "You have five seconds to come out or I will pull you out."
The Kaiserin exited the flue with grace, striding up to his desk.
"Poor hospitality, Londoner."
"Have you come to surrender?" Loki said, eyes fixed on his hexagonal windows, looking out onto the battlefield. Memos darted around his office, landing neatly on his desk as he signed off.
"Quite the opposite, actually," Graf said, putting a hand on his desk. "I came to warn you."
He looked up.
"You went too far," Graf said. "Should've stuck with what you'd gotten but you went and got greedy. You should never have stuck a foot on Belgian soil."
"Yes," Loki said idly, sliding another parchment onto his workspace with his fingers. "I'm sure you would have preferred to knife us in the back with your coalition."
Graf's eye twitched. "We would not have lain a finger on you had you not struck in Belgium! The coalition was created for that contingency only. All this destruction was avoidable."
Loki couldn't detect a lie in that, to his mild surprise.
"Oh well," he said raising his hands in a shrug.
Graf gritted her teeth.
"I come as a liason. Surrender now, and you can retain your head and your engorged wizard-state, if they'll keep you."
Loki took down another memo, signing it with a flourish.
"I'll pass," he said.
"The armies of Europe stand against you. Your troops are tired from their useless and cruel assault, and they are outnumbered three to one."
"And yet, here we are."
Graf's expression cooled.
"I've been Kaiserin for seventy years," she said. "I've seen a few self-styled warlords try to reach into Europe and take what didn't belong to them. Their hubris led to dark ends, Minister. I hope for your sake it ends quickly."
"Don't worry," Loki said cooly. "It will."
Graf gave a shallow bow, and disappeared into the hearth. Loki watched the place she had been and returned to furiously signing off requisition forms.
A/N: Whew, that was a long wait. Sorry, guys, it's been a really busy year ^_^. I've been working 1.5ish fulltime jobs and had some changes to the family tree. Yay for living!
A/N2: I've been working for so long for iterations of this chapter I'm pretty sure it's cursed. Credit for helping with one form or another goes to:
Sheet15, BlueJay, Prevaricator's Penchant, Elafi Milo (she's on too- you can read her stuff! u/5429124/Elafi-Milo), and TheTzip.