Posted 8/4/2014

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This is a work of fiction, based on the book series by J.K. Rowling. Neither do I claim ownership nor do I intend to.


Chapter Forty-Seven - Counter-attack

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"So then I sat there, you see?" Ron was explaining. "Well, it was luck I guess, but I fumbled and fell. I could have gotten hurt, yeah, but a moment later, Mum looked out of the window. Had she seen me in that tree, well, that'd been really bad. 'Never climb up there', that was one of her favourite sayings at the time. If she had seen me fall, it would have been even worse, of course. I think she'd now prefer us climbing up there instead of having grown up. But anyway, I fell and as luck would have it, I only got a few bruises."

Hermione shook her head. "Still, why did you play so close to that tree then? Or why not fetch a broom? Or get your mother to get that ball down for you? Climbing up wasn't necessary."

"Err, because it was the best place, lots of trees and hiding places, because I didn't have a broom, never mind my Mum never allowing me to fly back then. Fred and George, well, they got theirs taken away as a punishment, Bill and Charlie's were locked up as well. And asking Mum to get that ball? Really? That'd have been... no."

"It would have hurt your ego, right? That's what it's about, you'd have felt insulted to ask for help," she replied, rolling her eyes.

Harry nodded from his place. "Completely understandable. Some things need to be done personally, and running to a parent to fix matters? That'd be... no. That's not how it's done, Hermione, I completely agree with Ron there."

"Boys," she told them, shaking her head fondly.

"Now that's not fair," Harry replied, crossing his arms. "Just because boys know the value of personal achievements at that age..."

"Like falling out of trees? Or climbing up without knowing how to get down?" Hermione put in.

"Yes?" Harry said, sounding doubtful. It was nice, spending an afternoon with his friends after the Christmas holidays. "Although he did know how to get down, and he did get down on his own; no one had to help him."

"Well, I can do very well without..."

"Let's talk about something else," Harry interrupted. "You know, New Year's Eve is only three days away, and I only just realized we haven't seen the fireworks even once. I mean, think about it, at school, there is not really something like a fireworks display going off, is there? Well, some, yeah, Fred and George's work for the most part, but other than that..."

"It's not that impressive for magicals, I guess," Hermione conceded. "When you can charm everything under the moon, make impressive displays with a wave of your wand..."

Ron shrugged. "Don't know what all the fuss is about. Fred and George made fireworks, remember? In the house?" He chuckled. "Well, that was fun."

"It was, yes," Harry spoke up, "but we're getting off-topic right now. I wanted to point out that we haven't been to a display once, and now we are in London. I just thought it might be nice to watch it from inside the house, maybe get us something to celebrate the New Year with. Nothing major, just something small. I'd say Firewhiskey, but I'm not sure whether that's a good idea."

"We're all adults now, Harry," Ron said, smiling at his friend. He might not care much about Muggle fireworks, but the idea of Firewhiskey seemed to be something he could agree to.

"True, but that doesn't mean we have to..." Hermione began, but fell silent. They had all heard it – someone was at the front door. They exchanged uneasy looks and rose as one, wand in hand. Harry took the lead, Hermione on his left with Ron covering the right flank. Just as they were about to step into the hallway, the door opened, and someone staggered inside.

Shorter than Harry, but stocky, the man had hair red as fire, and as he brought the smell of burnt hair with him, Harry thought for a moment the man was aflame. Yet, upon closer inspection, the newcomer was easily recognizable. It was a Weasley, that much was obvious, and out of all of them, only Charlie had a similar build.

Harry shifted slightly to his right and in front of Ron, hoping to stop sudden outbursts from either, but it wasn't necessary. His friend didn't move and held his wand aimed at the newcomer. He had been taught well, it seemed, and Harry was happy to notice Hermione was similarly in control of herself. Then again, Harry had spent quite some time drilling the proper behaviour into both of them, so in a way, he was also complimenting his own work.

"Speak," Ron commanded, and hadn't he listened for it, Harry would likely have missed the slight quiver in the voice. "What was the present you gave me for my eighth birthday?"

The man resembling Charlie Weasley groaned. "That's ten years ago," he complained. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Hermione lift her wand, preparing a spell of her own, just in case. Harry briefly wondered what she had chosen as an opener, but ignored the train of thought before long.

"Fine then," Ron conceded, "What did you bring me back the last time you visited?"

"Don't change questions," Harry told him over his shoulder. They couldn't allow being too kind or trusting, after all, and giving in to the intruder's wishes too easily certainly counted as kindness.

"A dragon's bone carved into a flute," the man, likely Charlie, replied. "Or at least that's the present Mum 'n Dad saw. Privately, I gave you a Terr figure that I had found on my journeys for your collection. Didn't I give you something like that for your eighth birthday as well? Perger or something?"

Judging from the sigh Ron breathed, the answer was satisfactory, but before they could welcome the Weasley, he fell against the wall. Hermione jumped past Harry, wand already weaving in the air. Harry wasn't that good with diagnostic spells, but he thought he recognized some of the spells. The more he looked, the less he thought they were needed, though.

"He's badly hurt," she announced, but it was rather needless; everyone would have guessed that from Charlie's behaviour and appearance. Ron ran over to Hermione and his brother with Harry lagging slightly behind. His need to see Charlie wasn't as big, and he didn't want to stand in Hermione's way while she worked.

Charlie did look horrible. His hair was singed, his robes grey with soot, and a nasty cut was on his forehead, bleeding profusely. Hermione had already begun her treatment while Ron stared down at his brother.

"What happened?" he muttered, unwilling to accept what he saw. Almost at once, Harry paid careful attention.

"Attacks," Charlie winced. "They came for me, I think. Tried to hunt me down. I was smuggling Muggleborns over the Northern Sea. We do that every once in a while – harder to keep an eye on, less organized than ferries or trains. This time, they caught us. Burned our ship right where it was on the water, anti-Apparition wards and all just so we couldn't leave. Don't ask me how they did it, but it worked. Maybe an agent." He groaned once more. "I fled to the twins – safer than the Burrow 'til things're cleared up, see? Hid there. They came 'bout an hour ago – Death Eaters, I think." He frowned at them through bleary eyes.

"The twins?" Ron yelled, dangerously swaying and pale as a ghost. Harry couldn't fault him; this had to be the attack he had feared for weeks. Old habits died hard, it seemed. Well, wasn't that nice to know how much they cared about doing a thorough job?

"What happened at the twin's place? You said an hour ago?" Harry asked, kneeling down to face the injured man. This was far too important to waste precious time on planning or care for the victim; Harry knew he had to collect intelligence as soon as possible if he wanted to have any chance of making a difference. Hermione threw another spell at the still bleeding head wound while the shirt started darkening with blood from someplace underneath. She noticed as well and switched targets.

"They came around that time; they waited first. An attack in Diagon Alley, that's where I come from. Don't know whether they came for me, but it might be. Set the store on fire, locked us in." He snorted, some blood spraying out. "I'm a dragon handler. Fire? Doesn't frighten me. Saw an opening 'n fled."

"What about the twins?" Harry pressed.

"Should be here," Charlie said, glancing towards the door. His worry also seemed to clear his head a bit. "We split. They told me to come here."

Ah, Harry thought, they had revealed the secret. Hopefully they hadn't been overheard. Or had Charlie been told before? Who had access to Grimmauld Place in the first place? And who could share the secret?

"What do you mean, you split up?" Ron shouted. "Where are they, then?"

"Here, I thought. I guessed they had made it out already when I found an opening." Worry apparent on his face, Charlie made to rise, but Hermione pushed him gently back down. It told a lot that she could do so in the first place; Harry knew just how strong Charlie was.

"How long since they began their actual attack?" he asked, trying to steer the conversation back on track. For once, the memories of Tom had their uses. Harry had always calmed down whenever things got out of hand, but with the added knowledge from a fifty-two-year-old dark wizard, he had gained an additional edge. In his mind, he already thought about what needed to be done.

"I came right here," Charlie said. "Twenty minutes since they started? Ten? Don't know."

Harry jumped to his feet, his mind already working. "Kreacher," he called, and the elf appeared only moments later. "Fetch my Invisibility Cloak." The creature nodded and disappeared. Turning to his friends, he continued, "Hermione, patch Charlie up. Ron, you come with me to see what we can do."

Hermione jumped up, announcing, "I'll come with you!"

"Normally, I'd take you as well," he added, shrugging, "but Charlie needs help."

"He'll survive," Hermione told him. "The twins need us more. Could you patch them up? Better not risk it. I'll go with you. Ron stays here."

"Like hell I will!" Ron roared, "I'll save my brothers!"

"You'd look after Charlie!" Hermione shouted back. "Get him upstairs! Ready for treatment!"

Kreacher had reappeared, handing over the Invisibility Cloak.

"And the twins?" Ron hurled at her. "Let them die?"

"Someone has to stay here!" Hermione gave back. "Harry, you or me. So who's the...?" She stopped herself, but Ron seemed to know what she had been about to say. He snarled, balling up his fists in suppressed fury.

"Greengrass," Harry spoke up, stepping between the two. "She can watch him for a while. Kreacher, you are to help bring Charlie upstairs into the room Hermione has taken for herself for her stay here. You get your Mistress Greengrass and do what she asks of you until I return." Harry handed the cloak to Ron. "You take it. Got your coin?" he asked both of his friends, scratching his cheek as his mind was already planning well ahead. It had always worked well in times of turmoil.

"What...?" Ron replied, dumbfounded. "Err, yes, I think so, why?" Hermione merely nodded with comprehension dawning on her face as she dug around in her pockets.

Harry didn't answer. It would have been a waste of time anyway since his plan would hopefully be obvious soon enough. She really had outdone herself with that one, and the Protean Charm had proven to be very useful indeed.

"Wait," Ron interrupted, "you can't give one to Greengrass!"

Holding out her coin to Harry, Hermione sent him a reproachful look for putting his dislike for the girl above the success of their plan, but didn't get to speak; Harry beat her to it by taking her coin and handing it to Charlie. "Should the twins show up, send a message so we can return immediately – simply transfigure it to show the message. We'll be back before you know it."

He stormed to the front door and out on the steps. "Grab my arm, Ron." With a quick jab of his holly wand, Harry's face contorted, features changing rapidly. He knew he had done a bad job in his haste, should have asked Hermione, he realized a moment too late, but it would have to do; he didn't plan to stay visible for long, after all.

Ron did as he was told, already wearing the cloak, thankfully; the moment Hermione, looking like a wrinkled granny, clung to his other arm, Harry took both of them to a small corner in Diagon Alley, once again thankful for Tom's obsession with the secret pathways around the street. Only a dark lord bent on conquering Wizarding Britain would commit to memory every nook and cranny where the protective wards around the alley weren't strong enough to stop magical travel. While the official entrance through the Leaky Cauldron was well-known and the few Apparition spots for arrivals in the Alley itself fairly frequented as well, the wards around the place weren't as tight as they could have been. Gaps existed where people could arrive without being noticed, either by accident or, Harry guessed, by design. Shady deals needed secret entrances to the Alley, after all, where the Ministry didn't pay attention to, and that was one of the secrets behind the attacks of the Death Eaters – they could show up where others didn't know it was possible.

Harry took them to such a spot. The moment they had arrived, the yells and smell told them where to go, yet Harry held his friends back once they had reached a corner. One look was enough to tell him they wouldn't slip in and out unnoticed. Not with five people, at least.

"So here's the plan. We go in there and have a look around. Hermione, Ron, you search for the twins and have them wear the cloak. I don't care if they feel up for it, getting them out unnoticed. And Hermione, do something about their faces. Ron's too while you're at it," he told her, seeing her slip under the Invisibility Cloak. "I'll try to clear a path out for us when we leave, one way or the other. You get them out. Don't take this the wrong way, but..."

"Not now," Ron replied, gazing at the blaze from the sound of his voice.

"Let's go," Hermione added in a whisper.

"Remember the spot," Harry added, tapping his own head with the wand. Again, Harry was thankful for Lord Voldemort's knowledge, this time his interest in secrecy and disillusionment. Despite his later actions, Voldemort had spent quite some time researching the numerous concealments available, especially ways to stop magical discovery in order to be truly impossible to find. With a quick Notice-Me-Not added in for good measure, they set off towards the burning building, Harry hearing the whispered curses Ron spat behind him.

Businessmen were huddled in their stores, glancing outside nervously. Cowards watching the crime, Harry thought grimly; instead of preparing a counterattack of their own; they did nothing, it seemed. But he hadn't come for them, and all in all, he wasn't surprised to see people cowering in fear; that was just how they were, too weak to stand up for themselves. If they were, then the Death Eaters would have had a considerably harder time taking over in the first place.

Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was burning brightly, consumed by what looked almost like Fiendfyre from the distance. Harry's fears proved unjustified, though; even the attackers knew better than to unleash that terror in the middle of a populated street. With a wave of his invisible wand, he summoned the burning store sign towards him, just long enough to make it come crashing down to whoops of joy from the attackers, who still shielded their eyes from the flames so close to them. Invisible, he passed them, directing his friends with a whispered word over his shoulder. Voldemort's spells seemed to work decently so far. Harry guessed other groups were stationed in other spots, and he had half a mind to take some of the Death Eaters out of commission on the spot. Easy targets, he reasoned, but decided against it. Once the element of surprise would be gone, it would be a difficult fight with the fallout landing on the Weasleys.

On the threshold of the store, Harry stepped over a body. Ron stormed off into the house, pulling Hermione with him, not sparing another thought after he had checked it hadn't been one of his brothers, Harry guessed from the sound of the footsteps, but he looked down quickly. A bald shop worker lay dead where he had fallen.

Harry advanced more slowly from then on, cancelling the spells on himself once he was away from the entrance. If he wanted to be found by Ron or the twins, he needed to be seen. The damage was enormous, and in the twirling ash Harry could see Ron stumbling forward and between the rubble. That was a flaw with invisibility; it didn't mean intangibility, and soot could easily collect on their forms. They would have to figure something out later on, he guessed, but he had more pressing concerns at the moment. Harry cast a quick Homenum Revelio, happy to find it working thanks to Riddle's memories and his few tests in Grimmauld Place, and found two cores hidden in the backroom Ron and Hermione were stumbling towards. At least they weren't alone in the house, he thought.

Harry focused on his task and set to work; he needed to prioritise. With quick swishes, he forced a support beam aside to make room. Burning merchandise littered the floor, and he banished it. Could they apparate out of there? It would make things considerably easier if they didn't have to go back to their escape spot. He tried moving a few feet, but found it impossible. Wards, then, either the one's from the Alley that Harry didn't want to mess with or some from the Death Eaters. Either way, Apparition was out. Portkey perhaps? Grabbing a random piece of debris, he tried it with the same result. He was fairly certain he had done the spell right, but it hadn't worked, so that was out whether he had done the spell correctly or not. No, they were locked in and needed to stick to their escape plan.

Harry returned to clearing the path. A part of the ceiling had come down, burning. He banished it. Another body turned up, and he recognized her. Verity, the store hand. From the looks of it, she had been crushed by debris. Acting on impulse, he transfigured her body into a wooden coin and stuffed it into his robes. If she had family, they might want something to bury, and leaving her behind didn't feel right in the slightest even if she didn't have someone to mourn her.

Ron returned, the twins at his side. Neither looked well with singed hair and clothes. One of them, Harry thought it might be George, had a nasty cut on his arm while Fred hobbled awkwardly. Well great, they were injured on top of everything else. They were shouting, but the roaring fire drowned out their voices. Hermione followed them, glancing nervously around. Still, she sent Harry a nod and an uneasy smile.

Harry glanced towards the doorway. His Notice-Me-Nots might help somewhat, but with the ash in the air, it was only a question of time until the peculiar swirl of ash in the air would be noticed. Invisible or not, they would still disturb the soot around them, and that wouldn't be covered by the Notice-Me-Nots. Neither twin looked ready to run. Ron might be useful for a distraction, Harry mused, but they needed to be quick. Hermione might be of use in a fight, but could they risk one? Could they draw the fire and attention towards them and give the twins time to make it out alive? It was risky at best and suicidal otherwise. Yet they also were in a hurry; it wouldn't take long for the house to collapse on them if Harry guessed right.

He decided. Grabbing another piece of debris, he transfigured it into a short blade and disillusioned it. Spellfire was visible, the blade wasn't. It was better to be prepared for something unusual. If all that was needed was a distraction, he could provide one if necessary.

"Take them to the spot!" he yelled, pointing at Ron's outline, then outside in the general direction and then spinning on the spot. Ron nodded, understanding. Harry put his finger to his lips, held up his hand and shadowed his eyes, pointing once more at his friends. They nodded. Be silent, keep an eye out, wait for the right moment.

Just then, one of the twins reached out to hand him something. It was one of their inventions, and a useful one. Harry couldn't have hoped for a better tool than Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, and immediately adjusted his plans.

So how to do it? He could cloud the doorway in darkness, but that would only draw the attention they were trying to avoid to that spot. On the other hand, he would have liked to repay the favour, drop a few of the Death Eaters in retaliation for the two dead workers of the twins. With surprise on his side, he could deal with a squad, right? There had been three in sight, the one in front of the store consisting of three; just as long as he didn't waste time, one squad would not pose that much of a problem – one would fall to surprise alone, a second one from a short-range spell just like he had done on his wedding night, this time with deadlier results. But it would still fall back on the Weasleys, so how to do it? He glanced outside. That might work, he thought, watching the smoke and ash mingle. As long as they were careful, they might get away with it, and with a bit of luck, some of them might get seriously hurt in the process.

Nodding, he gestured his plan to the others. Then he set into motion, praying for his usual luck.

With a quick tap on his head, Harry once more disillusioned himself and put the Notice-Me-Not up. It was easy, too easy, really, to sneak out of the front door, his years of experience allowing him to stay unnoticed. Had he had to focus on more than himself, he might have had problems – even his spells had their limits – but hiding a single person wasn't that hard as long as he didn't disturb the ash too much. With a quick swish of his wand, a gust of wind sparked the flames anew and caused a cloud of ash to rise and hide the entrance for a moment. Enough time for Harry to transfigure the bald man and summon the coin he had become.

If only he had had one of Hermione's bags with him, he thought, creeping along the wall as behind him, spells rained down on the store. Then he could have had everyone climb in and simply carry them away. Would that have worked? On the other hand, they would have been subjected to the same forces he would have been, and they would have been shaken quite a bit if Harry had forced to run.

He had reached a good spot, situated between two camps of attackers. It was time. He opened the can, not seeing anything, of course. Taking aim, he threw it in a high arc.

A cloud of darkness descended between both camps, a route of night that not even the light of the fire could penetrate. Putting the wooden coin of the man on the floor, the changed him back as close as possible. The scapegoat was planted, time for more confusion. Harry sprinted into the darkness in front of him. Would it work? He sent Stunners to both sides. It didn't matter whether he had hit anything; it still worked. Harry threw himself to the ground. Yells sounded from both sides, and spells flew into the mist, passing overhead as Harry grinned. Harry crept until he could see the store and the door again. Still invisible, he took careful aim and sent a Stunner at one of the Death Eaters. He missed, unfortunately, but the second spell, a Cutting Curse, against another target connected. Blood shot from the wound, and Harry watched the other attackers crouch down and return fire. In the confusion, no one noticed the ashen-laden distortions in the air stepping out of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes away from the door. Just to be on the safe side, he shot a Confundus at the one guard he suspected was too smart to fall for the deception. It worked, and the guard sent another rain of spells into the darkness Shouts and spells from the other side were sent back.

The powder sank faster than Harry would have liked. Not too long before both sides would realize they had been played. Harry needed to get moving. He caused a gust to blow around him, blowing all the ash from his form. Retreating back to the wall of the store where he had started from, Harry sent a burst of fire to his left, followed by some spells to the right and the group guarding the door. Predictably, they retaliated, spells hitting the wall. Too easy, Harry mused as he ran along the line of darkness with the grace of a cat. With a quick, but strong summoning charm, he brought down a large part of the wall behind him. A rain of rubble came down, burying the nameless scapegoat. What did it matter if he wouldn't be recognizable any more?

When the darkness got thinner, Harry once more caused some wind to remove the worst of the dust. Perhaps someone from the stores has seen him, but Harry wasn't stopped. While behind him, people barked orders and the Death Eaters tried to figure out what had happened, Harry reached the apparition spot. With a last glance to make sure no one was around, Harry left.

He landed on the top step of his house and found the door open. Inside, Ron was struggling to support one of his brothers. Charlie had been moved, only a pool of blood remained from where he had lain.

"Everyone safe?" Harry called, letting the door close behind him.

Ron grunted, nodding curtly. "Fred's upstairs." The other twin, George then, Harry added in his mind, looked violently sick and barely conscious. So he had them mixed up earlier, Harry noticed, since George seemed to be the one with the hurt leg.

Together, Ron and Harry heaved George up to the first floor. The door of Hermione's room was open, and inside, they found the rest of the people. Hermione had already returned to tending Charlie's wounds. Whatever he had been hit with proved very resilient.

Fred sat on one of the chairs, holding a limp, weirdly angled arm. Harry guessed his cut had already been taken care of, and it cheered him up slightly. If Hermione had taken care of that already, then it had to have looked worse than it was. Fred had somehow gained what looked like a ligature on his arm and seemed to be missing a finger. The clean wound suggested Splinching. That made sense, Harry guessed; he supposed Hermione had taken the more seriously injured of the twins – George – leaving Ron with Fred. However, Ron wasn't the most capable of wizards under the best of circumstances, so it was possible he had lost control somewhere along the way. Still fingers could be regrown if needed, blood could be replenished. Everyone was still alive, and that was more important at the moment.

Kreacher could be seen running around, but he was more concerned with the blood traitor sullying his house than actually doing much of use. Hermione, it seemed, hadn't given him any decent orders. Daphne stood pale-faced and rather awkwardly, trying not to look too closely at the wounded Charlie while occasionally lending Hermione a hand or two.

George fell into another chair, and Harry busied himself with helping Hermione. She didn't spare him more than a short nod and a tight smile before she focused back on her work in front of her. Ron meanwhile, untrained in the healing arts, tried his best to help the twins get comfortable.

It was about an hour later that they had finally healed the worst damage, though Harry guessed Fred might have to wait for a while to get his finger back. George had settled, his burn marks treated and his broken leg mending. Charlie had been worse off, but in the end, he too had been stabilized. It was finally time for some answers, Harry thought, watching his newest guests.

"So," he spoke up. Ron stopped shaking out Charlie's pillow. Hermione sent Harry an angry look, but didn't object, obviously conflicted between reprimanding him for bothering the Weasleys and agreeing with his need to get the facts straight. Daphne sat in the corner, looking very pale.

"So," he repeated. "Now it's time we talked, you and I." He felt very much like the leader Tom loved and Harry loathed being, but he couldn't afford sentimentalities. "Let's start with you, Charlie. You said something about hiding at the twins."

"Can't this wait?" Ron asked, looking nervous.

"Not really," Harry replied, idly wondering whether Ron knew he had sounded almost like his mother. "By now, they'll suspect they might not have killed their target if that was indeed their goal. They might have found it amusing to spread a little panic before the year is over, or maybe send a warning to the resistance that our insolence is no longer tolerated. Or they might have wanted to tie up some loose ends and silence Charlie and the twins. Or they might have intended the attack for either. Or perhaps it was all a training session. I need to know what is going on so we can plan ahead. I need to know what to expect, and since you are all here, why not now?"

"It's all right," Charlie groaned. He didn't look good, but his eyes were focused, which Harry took as a good sign. "I'm on leave from the reserve. I helped smuggle Muggleborns over the Sea; I already said that. Sometimes, we did it in reverse, smuggling people back as agents of ours, but mostly, it's getting families out of here. It worked a few times in the past; this time, they knew what was going on. Bore down on us. Normally, it'd have been Snatchers, but..."

"Wait, Snatchers?" Harry asked.

"Ah, you wouldn't know. Well, they're neither Death Eaters nor Ministry, really. Lowly crooks wanting to cash in on some bounties. That's what they want people to think, at least, but they're just another group of servant of You-Know-Who. Say his name they'll come down on you. See, they snatch up dissenters and cash in on bounties. It why we have to be very careful and check everything twice. It's why people don't come to us and hide someplace. Those who do want to leave are paranoid and reluctant to trust us. It's why convincing them we can help them can take weeks."

"Lupin didn't say anything about them," Harry pointed out, "and he was here on Boxing Day."

"Probably didn't want to worry you. It's something we have to be careful about – Snatchers, spies, crooks. They wouldn't bother with those for you and bring you straight to You-Know-Who. As for the Snatchers, it's easier using them than getting the Ministry workers involved, and causes less legal issues. After all, it's not forbidden by law to say the name, so sending the Magical Law Enforcement or Aurors would cause all kinds of trouble. Do it under the pretence of bounties, though, and you only need a handful of Ministry officials onboard. Think unmarked Death Eaters in training and you're on the right track. Mediocre wizards for the most part. Lowly scum. Nott organized them, and that's the problem. He's in charge of them and makes sure they're where they're needed.

"Anyway, those that came for us weren't Snatchers, but Death Eaters. Neither Apparition nor Portkey worked for some reason. I guess they created some wards around the ship. That's the most likely, in fact, because once I was a few feet away from it, I could leave. Maybe a traitor among us who carved runes on the hull or something, I don't know. Anyway, they burned the ship; I just barely escaped by jumping into the water. Others did as well, but we lost each other in the sea. I apparated as soon as I could. If someone else survived, they might be hiding somewhere on either side of the channel. I came back here because I don't trust the French. I mean, they're French, it's a matter of principle."

"He came to us," George said, taking over. "Why, don't know, but he was suddenly there. We took him in, of course, but just a few hours later, the Death Eaters came. They surrounded the shop. We... tried to keep them outside – our store, you know? We didn't want them in there. Well, they set it on fire. Took out Barnes right there at the door."

"The bald one?" Harry asked. "I left his body to cover for us. He's our scapegoat."

George nodded curtly. "Fred and I, we covered for Charlie. Sorry, brother, we kind of lied to you about following behind you to get you outside and away from there. He got away unnoticed, I think, but we were locked in without an escape. We hadn't expected that, to be honest. We... what happened to Verity?"

Harry narrowed his eyes. "She died. I have her with me." He patted his pocket. "Anything else you know? Do they attack the Muggleborn smugglers often?"

Charlie coughed. "Often? No, they don't find us most of the time. Then again, it does take time to find someone who wants to leave. Most of the Muggleborns have gone into hiding, and those left here are very hesitant to come to us. We have to dig them out, and that's pretty much what the Ministry would do as well. No, we're not attacked often. We have to reschedule constantly, though. Whether there's a real danger or not, but those who do want to flee are so scared we would never not draw attention with them around. Muggleborns see traps everywhere. It must have been bad luck or maybe a spy among this group; if so, that spy might have put up those wards. We screen them, naturally, but..."

Harry waved him off and thought it over. So it might have been an attack gone out of control. Perhaps the Death Eaters had merely wanted to finish what they had started, and it had been bad luck they had followed Charlie all the way to the twins. That was good news, all things considered, but it could turn ugly quickly. "They seem to be after you, Charlie," he concluded. "Hopefully, they think you're dead. We should think carefully about it before we correct that misconception." He looked towards the twins. "Did you have problems with them before? Any run-ins?"

"Well, they leaned on us, but that was more the Ministry than the Death Eaters themselves," Fred spoke up, clutching his arm. It would take some time for the bones to mend, and the missing finger was probably something to get used to as well. "They wanted some money from us, they wanted information from us, that kind of stuff, yeah. But this... this is something else. I mean, there were worrying incidents. People vanishing or found dead, but this? An open attack? And in the middle of Diagon Alley during the day?"

"They are getting bold," Hermione sighed, paling after a quick glance to Harry. She seemed to have read his thoughts or face, for Harry had already begun planning anew.

"So it would seem," George told her. "Well, they failed, so that's good."

"Or not," Harry argued. "If you survive, they might target your family."

"If we..." Fred asked, blinking.

"Does he mean?"

"I think he does."

"I do," Harry interrupted them. "They might have been following Charlie. No survivors was their goal, probably – a decent strategy to hide evidence. He might be a dangerous witness, so they might want to silence the witness before it's too late. It's only reasonable. So, what do we do now? Charlie's in no shape to be moved anyway, so for the time being, you should stay here, and stay silent." Harry glanced questioningly to Hermione, who nodded, apparently agreeing with the conclusion. It really did help to have a second-in-command who shared your thoughts, Harry mused. That was something Voldemort had never bothered with. "And they likely think or hope you died as well," he told the twins, pursing his lips. "Maybe we should let them believe that, at least for a while."

"Easier said than done," George groaned.

"Yeah, one visit to Mum and they'll see the clock." Fred added, frowning. "The dead aren't displayed as being anywhere, really, just stuck in-between, I think."

Harry paced for a moment. "Perhaps you could confund it?"

"Possibly, but..."

"One of you would need to leave," Harry continued, shaking his head. "They'd question him as soon as the Ministry gets a hold of him. All right, so you can't stay dead. And to think that clock would put an end to that plan."

"Perhaps if they were in St. Mungo's?" Hermione offered. "That would be a reasonably decent explanation for their whereabouts."

"Err, St. Mungo's?" Fred asked, looking wary. Both Harry and Hermione shared an alarmed look, and out of the corner of his eye, Harry noticed Daphne's eyes narrow as well.

"What now?" Ron groaned.

"Well, they have Ministry personnel running it now," George replied matter-of-factly. "The previous management was found to be corrupt and unsuitable for the job, admitting enemies of the state and even – Gasp! – the suffering and incurable. Just imagine that, no preferential treatment for purebloods and Death Eaters, not to mention the unwillingness to question the patients about the cause of their injuries. That's how they want to keep the resistance from getting a healer's care. The mental ward? Yeah, no more funding for that one, all private donations now, and if the rumours are to be believed, half of those are rerouted towards You-Know-Who's campaign."

"That's awful!" Hermione yelled.

"Well, people pay. Without funding, their relatives would literally starve there, and since they are only allowed to leave if they get a clean bill of health..."

"They're hostages," Harry concluded. As much as he hated to admit it, that was a brilliant strategy as well. The Death Eaters knew how to milk the community and get more gold in their vaults.

"Pretty much, yes." George spat.

"Lupin didn't say anything about that either," Harry added.

"Likely didn't want to worry you," Charlie guessed. "There's little you can do, is there? Until this war is done, St. Mungo's will be bled dry to fund the Death Eater's and pay for informants."

Harry mulled it over. It did sound like Lupin to want to protect Harry and his friends from the reality of the war and those details they couldn't do anything about. "Fine, go home then, George, Fred. Unless you're mistaken, you should be reasonably safe, then. But one of you should go and tell your parents of Charlie's death."

Ron jumped up, yelling loudly, joined by the twins themselves. Charlie and Hermione stayed quiet, and both watched Harry carefully. Daphne had a strange glint in her eyes, and Harry suspected she tried her best to keep from smiling weakly.

"I have my reasons for that," he shouted. His friends fell silent, glowering at him. "I know it isn't kind, but we cannot risk it. Do you think the knowledge is safe in their heads? With the Ministry walking around? If she knows Charlie is well, then they might learn about that one."

"You're thinking about Veritaserum," Charlie said.

"Yes, unfortunately. If your parents believe Charlie dead, then they cannot reveal his survival to anyone. Then there is the clock. Someone needs to take care of that. Neither Ron nor I can go. Hermione and Charlie shouldn't either, so there's that. You two could go in there and take care of the clock while passing the sad news on."

"And I'm meant to be stuck here indefinitely?" the older man argued, sitting up slightly. "It's bound to come out sometime, I don't plan to live my life hidden from view."

Harry glanced at his friends. Both subtly shook their heads. At least they agreed with him in that matter. "Well, then you might be dying somewhere in some ditch, I don't care about the cover story."

"And if the truth comes out, whoever spread the rumour about me will have to face the wrath instead. And until then, what do you want me to do? Sit around doing nothing? That's not what I signed up for. Locked away in some house? Forget it. Why do you think I'm working with dragons, to be safe?"

"Or we stay here for a while," George argued. "You've been living here for months, right, Harry? It's reasonably safe, and we can recover in peace. Once that's done, we come out of hiding, tell my parents whatever story we can come up with until then and retreat to some secure location to mourn in peace."

"And put your parents in danger," Harry countered. "Not to mention, paint a large target on your backs as well. They wouldn't leave you in peace."

"Not really," Charlie told him. "Believe it or not, but the last month wasn't so bad for resistance members. Or not as bad as it could have been, I should probably say. They haven't started hunting us down and are apparently happy letting us spend hours staying in the shadows. The moment we'd step out, though... You heard about Ogden, didn't you?"

"You mean his unfortunate death?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

"That one, yes. Some of the more outspoken supporters, those who actually did try raising awareness, became strangely silent over time. The Wizarding Wireless Network has begun churning out the same lies the Ministry wants out there. Nothing really obvious, mind you, just a holiday here, some retirement there. As long as we don't openly challenge them, we're relatively fine. We think the Ministry is trying to improve its image. If the average witch or wizard feels they have a decent enough life without too many inconveniences, well, why join the fight? Yes, there are these attacks, but all in all, they aren't as oppressive as they could be. Moody suspects You-Know-Who's strengthening his grip ion the nation and removing all those who wouldn't go along with his plans. Of course, you can't completely rework the Ministry in one day and expect to not draw attention to it, but a reassignment here, some promotion there and you can shift a lot of people in the right positions. It's the calm before the storm, basically. We think they will strike one day, but so far, they've been rather passive."

"You think so? That's not how Death Eaters work," Harry pointed out. "They don't simply stop because their targets quit the fight. That'd be fair and not something Death Eaters care for."

"Ah, but it's not the Death Eaters alone anymore, is it?" Fred sighed. "The public face is the Ministry. Yeah, they do their dirty business, but they cannot get away with as much. They aren't faceless terrorists, and they aren't a select bunch. It's like Charlie said, the Ministry is trying to act halfway decent, even to us. For now, that is. They have to build up the Ministry as their own personal force."

"A secret police," Hermione guessed.

"That's how others have put it, yes. Then there are the Snatchers. They're crooks and need a bit of organisation to be really effective. No, they'll strike once they'll know there aren't any potential traitors left in their ranks. Until then, the Ministry is keeping the peace. They arrested Moody, but let him go unharmed after a short questioning instead of locking him up. He has too many friends in the Ministry for them to really pin anything on him. Mind you, he did insult them about their lack of proper procedure and safety even as they were dragging him off."

"I wouldn't want to harm him either," Harry replied, shrugging. "Moody is one tough fighter; who knows what he's hiding? I wouldn't be surprised if he had some secret weapon on his body just waiting to be used against his enemies. I mean, come on, this is Moody we're talking about; he might have triggered his body to act as a bomb or something, just in case."

"Nah, that was Szarka," George put in, chuckling darkly.

"Oh?" Harry raised an eyebrow, feigning ignorance. "That sounds interesting. What happened? We heard a bit and read some things in the Prophet, but... well, it's the Prophet."

The three newcomers exchanged glances. "Well, it was Szarka, some small fish in the Muggleborn Registration Commission," George answered for all of them. "They go around arresting people for their ancestry and putting out bounties for some people. That's what the Ministry thought up lately, and Umbridge is the boss of that lot. Suits her, doesn't it? Anyway, two weeks ago, Szarka, he just... exploded. Big enough even the Ministry couldn't cover that one up."

Hermione squirmed, but Harry forced himself to look curious and surprised. He only had to force the latter. "What do you mean, he exploded?" Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Daphne's shocked expression as she stared at him. It made it very hard not to smile, but he did send her a warning look that made her jump back in her seat.

"Well, just that," Fred put in. "From what we heard – not much, mind you – one moment he was sitting there, the next he exploded in the middle of the office. Some injured, one dead by shrapnel."

"None of our side," George added.

"We had one of ours in there?" Hermione asked, panicky.

Blinking, the twins shook their heads. "That's not what we were saying," Fred explained.

"Just making sure you don't worry about that," his twin continued.

"The paper said something about three victims," Ron pointed out, leaning forward.

"Well, the Ministry apparently hoped to cover up something there," Charlie elaborated. "We're not sure what to think of it. Maybe they had a death to explain away. Two or three, what's the difference? On the other hand, dead people are free to do whatever they want, so maybe they want to plant a spy sometime. Either way, they used the chance to make someone vanish."

"Doesn't sound too good," Hermione spoke up, glancing around nervously. "What else about that attack?"

"Well," Fred said, "the injured, they got nothing lasting apart from the nasty shock. It's a wonder what magic can do, you know? But Szarka, that was a horrible mess, I mean, he literally blew up and sprayed the whole room with his blood and guts. It baffled everyone since they couldn't find out what happened. There had been a threat on his life earlier, yes, but come on, everyone in that room was on their side and cleared pretty soon. Four days of investigation and complete lock-down of the Ministry. Dad was dead-tired when he returned home after that. The official story is he blew himself up."

"That's the upside," Fred broke in.

"They suspect him to work with the resistance," George said with a grimace.

"And that's the downside," Fred sighed. "They can't prove anything, of course, but it still means the resistance is now blamed for the death of two 'courageous and diligent' Ministry workers. It doesn't make it any easier to get support. And back then, it meant we had to lie low for weeks or we'd have revealed some of our real work."

"Ah, that's bad," Harry agreed. Maybe he should have made sure to consider that? But he couldn't have known it would delay the Order's work in the process. "But then, the Ministry will probably blame you for everything that goes wrong, so there's that. They'd find a way to blame you for the mere existence of Muggleborns if they so wanted. I mean, who'd argue against it, right?"

Fred scratched his cheek, shrugging slightly. "Probably, yes. They're rather imaginative when it comes to blaming us. Then again, this time, I can't say I'm sorry about it. Szarka won't be missed, really. And he just..." He mimed it. "You know, whoever did it, I'd love to shake their hand. Umbridge was there, and she got a nice face-full of the jerk. Best of all, with the lockdown and collecting the evidence, she wasn't allowed to clean up for a while."

Charlie nodded. "And after the business with Macnair... You heard about that, didn't you?"

Harry exchanged glances with his friends. "We didn't hear much about it."

True, he mused, they hadn't heard a lot. That didn't mean they didn't know about it in detail. It had been his work, after all, and he was reasonably sure he could tell them all there was to it. But then, he had little interest in explaining his modus operandi, after all; it had been so incredibly easy to pull off. He couldn't allow such knowledge to become widely known for fear of inspiring others. And there was another issue – as long as he made sure Hermione didn't talk about it, he could use the strategy again in due time. It was like the Muggle magician's code of honour; don't reveal the secret of the magic trick.

"There was a threat on his life, including a time of death. No one believed it could be done, I think, but he still had guards posted around him when the time came. And then, just when he was gloating about the lack of an attack, he keeled over dead. Again, right in the Ministry, and no one knows how it was done or who it had been. I'm not going to claim I'm sorry for his death, but it still caused some trouble for us, to be honest. We were investigated thoroughly, yet no one from the Order was implicated. They still don't know how that one was done either, so maybe that had something to do with it."

"So they bother with investigations?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, they do. They might not always act upon the evidence they find, but there are simply too many people running around in the Ministry to avoid doing the work properly. Like we said, they try to improve their image. Can't risk a rebellion, so they have to do the work properly now, or as properly as they need to in order to diffuse any suspicion. Of course, it also doesn't help that both Macnair and Szarka's deaths caused a lot of attention – people watch the Ministry very closely, if only to see who's next."

"I say Umbridge," Fred supplied. "Sliced into pieces with her parts sent to all corners of the Isles as a warning."

"Well," Harry laughed, "if that happens, we'll know who's behind it."

"Or it could be you," Fred said, chuckling darkly and winking at Harry.

Winking, Harry replied, "Maybe."

They fell silent, and Harry returned to pacing. "If you were to pop up after a while..."

"The Ministry would leave us in peace, I think," Charlie finished. "We've lived out there. It's rough, but manageable – as long you don't let yourself get caught doing something. As long as they don't catch me returning to my old ways, I'll be fine. No, it's not the Ministry we have to worry about, they follow their rules."

Harry frowned, but didn't object anymore. He was mostly glad the attack on Charlie didn't see, like retaliation for his assassinations, but merely everyday business.

A strange thought, he realized, that an attack and attempted murder could be considered everyday business. He grabbed into his pocket and pulled the wooden coin out. He placed it on the table next to George. "It's Verity. You'd better hold onto it. Her family might want her back."

The twins shared a look and nodded curtly.


At least they had a nice Christmas.