Plan B

Just at the time when the Malfoys were discussing their next steps, Albus was smiling dreamily in the Great Hall. In front of him was the Daily Prophet, whose front page story was the Gryffindors' resolution, complete with all signatures that had been made.

"Well, Albus?" Roy had planted himself beside him, grinning almost from ear to ear. "I thought I'd have to comfort and encourage you after this" – he pointed to the Daily Prophet – "instead you look like it's Christmas."

"Something like that," Albus beamed at him. And as Roy raised his brows questioningly: "She didn't sign it!"

"Who?"

"Rose. Rose Weasley! She did not sign it! Even though she's not only turning her house against her, but even her mother! Hermione will rant and rave when reading it!" he exclaimed blissfully. Then he paused: "And what about you, Roy? You also look like it's Christmas."

Ron laughed: "Something like that, too!"

Albus was already thinking of Rose again. "I'm so proud of her, she's so brave – I could kiss her!"

"Knock yourself out," said Roy with a grin. "There she's coming!"

Albus wheeled around, but his happy beam collapsed when he saw Rose. She wasn't as pale and tearful as yesterday and on Sunday, but very earnest. She certainly didn't feel like kissing now.

"It happened!" she said, sitting down by Albus and placing two letters on the table. "My mum left my dad!"

Albus asked, "May I?" and took the two letters: Hermione's terse, cool and matter-of-fact, Ron's long, detailed and full of warmth. Albus was particularly touched when Ron told his daughter to keep writing to Hermione as often as possible.

She propped her chin on her hands, gazed into space and shook her head.

"I can't even cry, I just feel so empty – all this time since Christmas is like a nightmare that keeps getting worse. And I just don't wake up!" She looked at Albus and smiled weakly. "Well, once in a while I do. When you're there."

Albus took her hand in his.

It was already a quarter past seven in the evening when the door of the secret room opened where the Incorruptibles were waiting for Ginny. They reflexively drew their wands, only then did Ginny make herself visible.

"Mum, we expected you to Apparate!"

"I've been at Hogwarts for an hour and a half," Ginny replied as she gave her son a quick hug. "I had a long talk with James, after this meeting it would have been too late." She turned to Roy: "What have you done so far?"

"All the Slytherins have let it be known to their families, some of whom are influential, that we expect them to give us every support in getting Harry released. The Malfoys have already promised extensive help. Also, Bernie urged his dad, the Muggle Prime Minister, to help Harry, and for the rest, we are bolstering Albus. And you, what did you do?"

"I discussed the strategy with the lawyer. We are going for an outright acquittal ..."

"... which Hermione cannot survive politically," Roy added.

Ginny nodded. Again, there was that certain steely gleam in her gaze that Albus had seen on her before.

"The acquittal is our plan A," she said. "The Wizengamot is being influenced by all means. I am confident, but of course the plan could also fail. We therefore need a plan B."

"I suppose," Ares asked, "you're still not considering an assassination?"

"No. Harry would take no pleasure from his life anymore if hers was the price."

"I admire you," Roy said, "I think if Arabella were in that same situation, I would no longer care about human lives."

"What if it was Julian's life, for example?", Ginny demanded. "If he was under this curse?"

Julian helped Roy out of his embarrassment: "Even then he wouldn't do it. And I approve of it. He couldn't help it."

"Well," said Ginny, "you need to know that. I stand by my decision and know that Harry would too. We can't help, too."

"I'm glad we talked about it," Orpheus now said with a grin. "So we are talking about a prisoner liberation, right?"

"Right," Ginny confirmed. "Can I count on you?"

"Of course, what a question!", Roy answered on behalf of everyone.

"We don't know how much time we have between a verdict of guilty and the execution," Ginny explained. It could be weeks, but it could also be hours. We need a plan we can realise at any time, right off the cuff."

"We need more than just one plan," Ares interjected. "If we are unlucky, we have not even hours between sentence and execution, but only minutes, if the sentence is carried out directly in the Ministry building. In this case, we must attempt rescuing him directly out of the courtroom. We need a second plan, namely the liberation from Azkaban, in the event that a majority in favour of guilty is already in sight before the verdict in the Wizengamot. In that case, we should not even wait for the verdict and free him from Azkaban. A liberation from there is difficult, but certainly still easier than directly from the Ministry."

"How can we know what's going on in the Wizengamot?" asked Albus.

"The Malfoys keep us informed," Ginny replied. "They have contact with many members. Our lawyer will also be well informed."

"So that should be the least of our problems," said Roy. "Only, both Azkaban and the Ministry will be heavily guarded. To work out plans, we need to know something about the conditions and security arrangements there."

"As far as Azkaban is concerned, no problem," said Ares. "My dad was in Azkaban, quite a few of his old comrades were there, some of them were only released a year or two ago."

"My grandfather also knows the place well," Julian added.

"Well, one more question then," Roy went on to the next point. "We are just seven persons. Depending on the plan, that might or might not be enough. How many more people would participate?"

"The entire Weasley clan," Ginny replied, "especially now that Hermione's left Ron: my parents, all my brothers except Percy, plus Fleur, James, Victoire ... at least nine apart from me."

"My grandpa," Julian added.

"My dad," Ares added. "That's the kind of thing I'm sure he's up for. Also, I'll discreetly ask how many of his buddies would join us. I could imagine a dozen. Best to ask right away when we make enquiries about Azkaban."

Ginny looked at the two of them doubtfully. "And you really think the old Death Eaters are going to help us get Harry Potter out, of all people?"

"Why not?" asked Ares with a shrug. "They all hate the Ministry, they all have a bone to pick with the Dementors. Besides, they are not helping Harry. You help Harry, we help you, my father helps us, and the Death Eaters help him. At most, they could impose a condition."

"Which is?" asked Ginny suspiciously. The prospect of working with real Death Eaters appealed to her about as much as having a cow pie for lunch.

"That the Death Eaters still in prison have to be freed as well."

"I wouldn't be thrilled about that," Ginny said, "but I won't let my husband die just to keep others in prison."

"So that's settled," Roy summarised, "Julian and Ares, you contact the Death Eaters and find out anything you can about the conditions in Azkaban. Next point: The Ministry."

"My father will take care of that," Ginny replied. "He knows the premises like the back of his hand, and as far as security measures are concerned, he knows exactly who to ask and who to trust. Also, I could ask Draco Malfoy to ask around, especially among his Slytherin colleagues. Of course, it would be best to have one of the Aurors as an informant. I know some of my husband's colleagues, but I'm not close enough friends with any of them to count on them for sure."

"Gracchus Barclay, perhaps?" asked Arabella.

Ginny shook her head. "Barclay is certainly not happy about how things are going, but he is a civil servant to the bone and would never do anything illegal. Forget Barclay – I'll have to think it through again, maybe someone will come to mind."

"What do we know about Azkaban so far?", Roy asked. "For example, do we know the exact geographic position?"

"My husband told me a few things about Azkaban," Ginny replied, "because he sometimes had official business there. It is off the Scottish coast about fifteen miles east of the fishing village of Branness on an island in the North Sea ..."

"Miles or nautical miles?", Roy enquired.

"Miles, I suppose, Harry wouldn't count in nautical miles. Muggles cannot spot it, and their ships are magically guided past it. For us it is just as visible as Hogwarts. Azkaban is under a hemispherical magical protective dome, which means that you cannot Apparate or Disapparate there, and anyone who enters the protective dome under an invisibility spell automatically becomes visible. Curses or spells from outside bounce off the protective dome, but inside the dome you can use them."

"That's not that little information for now," Roy nodded with satisfaction. "What's the radius of the protective dome?"

"One mile."

"If you can't Apparate there," Julian asked, "how do they get their prisoners there?"

"As far as I know, there is a small island just outside the dome where they Apparate. From there they take the prisoners on a small ship to Azkaban. At least that's the standard procedure."

Roy thought out loud: "We need information from the former prisoners to find out anything about the inside of the fortress: the exact location of the cell wings, stairs, doors and so on." He faltered, thought for a moment, then continued:

"As far as guard and barrier facilities are concerned, manning numbers, possible points of attack and so on, or in short weak points for intrusion, their information may not be precise enough because they were mainly inside the building. Moreover, their knowledge is likely to be outdated. Hermione brought the Dementors back only recently, I don't think they just took over the procedures from twenty years ago."

"And that means?" asked Arabella.

"That we can't rely only on second-hand information," Roy replied. "We have to see for ourselves and scout out the fortress – as accurately as possible. I'll do that."

They all stared at him open-mouthed. "How are you going to do that?", Julian demanded. "From a mile away you won't see much, and if you get any closer with a broom, you'll immediately have the Dementors on your back.

Roy grinned. "Don't worry."