1. Thanks a lot to ORCA47 for helping beta this chapter. I am sure it will be far better with those valuable advice. Also thanks to Ana-DaughterOfHades who helped me years ago on the initial version of this.

2. Any error here is mine and not from my reviewer.

3. Enjoy.

As it was most common, Ron had a dreamless sleep, only that this time it wasn't as long as he would have wanted. There was a sudden twinkling and whizzing nearby that was causing quite an uproar, and he had to press his eyes shut to ignore the light.

Ron groaned, then turned about, noticing how empty his bed felt tonight. Against all odds, he tried to ignore the noisy light, and he might have succeeded if it weren't for a different sound that came then: a steady knock on the door.

"Ron? Are you awake yet?" came the low voice of his wife.

"Err— ahh?" Ron mumbled, not even taking his cheek away from the pillow.

"It's time. Come on, get up," she said, coming into the room.

Ron raised his head slowly, barely opening his eyes. The blinking light on his nightstand hit him hard. "Bloody alarm," he grumbled, grabbing the old Muggle alarm clock that his father had given him on his last birthday.

"Come on, Ron. I told you to go to bed earlier, didn't I?" Hermione said, sitting on the bed next to him. She was already in her night robe, though it was clear she hadn't come to bed yet. "If you hurry up you can still grab a nosh before leaving."

The mention of food seemed to bring Ron back to life. He sat up and gave his wife a weak smile. "You know, I just decided that I hate night shifts."

"This is your first one. Now get up, you won't want to be late."

Before leaving the room, Hermione leaned towards Ron and kissed him. The young man smiled and caressed her cheek, then she was gone. Ron made a troll-sized effort to rise and sit heavily on his side of the bed, rubbing his face furiously with both hands, trying to stay awake.

The bedroom was a neat place. Even when it wasn't as orange as Ron would have liked, it had a warm feeling to it. Hermione didn't allow any quidditch posters in the bedroom, but Ron had found a place for them in other parts of the flat. The bed faced the door directly and had small nightstands on either side of it; however, the first thing that always caught Ron's attention was the slim bookcase next to the door, which was just as packed as the bigger ones in the study. Ron couldn't understand why Hermione needed it (she said that it was only light reading for the nights), but Ron knew perfectly well she also kept plenty of heavy stuff to read in that nightstand of hers. On the other hand, Ron's nightstand only had clothes, some pictures and the occasional quidditch magazine. There was also the old Muggle clock his father had insisted on bewitching to behave as an alarm clock. As if a regular Muggle clock couldn't do the same trick, and without the blinding lights and the pesky noises at that.

It was already quarter-past ten, Ron noticed.

He made his way to the bathroom, taking care to not step on Crookshanks. The old cat wasn't woken up by the loud alarm, the lucky ball of fur.

Fully dressed and ready for work, Ron met his wife at the table. There were some leftovers from earlier on his plate, which made Ron remember once more that it was still Sunday. He had gone to bed not even three hours ago, in the hope that the brief kip would prepare him for the night shift. It didn't seem like Hermione had left the table while he slept. She was still going through the Azkaban reports, with a cup of tea next to her.

Over the years Ron had grown used to her way of keeping track of every little detail and pressing issue. Ron's relaxed nature meant they bickered because of it from time to time, but often it was more playful banter than anything serious. To be honest, at times Ron did it on purpose since Hermione's face when she realized he was just teasing her was the most endearing thing in the world for him.

Ron enjoyed seeing her ramble about her next big project or how she was going to solve some glaring problem with the magical society. Some other times, when she was as lost in her thoughts as she was now, Ron had to stare in silence and wonder what was going on in that beautiful mind of hers. Hermione was meant to achieve the greatest of things, to change everything for the better, not to lose herself dwelling in worries.

"You should leave that and go to bed, there's nothing in there that we don't know already," Ron said as he sat down.

Hermione answered without looking up, she had gone through every little detail in those reports already, Ron knew, "I have my doubts. The ministry workers, from the Transportation Office, I have a feeling they're the key. The explosion was for them."

"Again with that? Fawley thinks there's nothing to them. They just happened to be at the wrong place, at the wrong time. You should just drop that rubbish."

Grim Fawley was the researcher who most closely worked with Ron at the office. He had a desk job, nothing that required him to ever go out on the field. He was a few years younger than Ron as well, recently out of Hogwarts. Nevertheless, Fawley was talented and Ron had to recognize the bloke was more usually right than not.

"Honestly, Ron, I have been going at this for hours, and you just come here and dismiss all of it as if— as if there's nothing I can possibly find that they haven't seen at the office already. As if my work is rubbish, you say."

Ron was caught off guard, "I didn't say that."

"Well, it certainly seemed so."

"Not in that way."

"In which way then?"

Ron held back his upcoming retort and instead let out a long breath. He usually rushed words without thinking about how they might sound to other people, which often caused more than a few rows with Hermione. He knew he had to control those impulses, but at least he could tell more or less how to fix the issues now. "I think you're ten times better than Grim Fawley, or any other researcher at the office for that matter," he said, without a hint of doubt in his voice. "But I don't want you to keep doing this. By Merlin, I don't like to see you worried."

The gesture on Hermione relaxed as if realizing she might have overreacted. She put a hand over her husband's hand and spoke in a softer tone, "I know Ron, of course I do, but I want to help. I love you. I don't want to think something could happen to you, something that I could've prevented."

It all came back to that it seemed. His job. This was a complicated time for sure, but it was hardly going to be the last time Ron was in this situation. As long as he was an Auror he was going to be in danger, and his job wasn't supposed to be Hermione's burden.

"I love you too. But this is my job, not a school mystery we have to solve. You can't go about doing your job and solving each one of my cases at the same time. You'll go nuts!"

Hermione let out a sigh in defeat, "You're right, I should trust this to you and Harry. It's just that—"

"We'll figure it out, eventually. And just so you know, I do appreciate your effort here..." Ron said as he moved through the papers and pictures Hermione had arranged.

He went on, eating and reading at the same time, putting extra attention on the workers' files. There was a young woman named Aster Prince, maybe a far relative from Snape who had the fortune of not looking anything like the late teacher. There was also Tobias Bosley, an old fireplace maintenance worker. Two other workers had been caught in the explosion as well, more victims to these attackers.

"Do you think I can present some of this as my work and look a tad smarter at the office?" Ron said once he was done with his plate.

Hermione let go of a small chuckle, "This isn't school, remember? I organized and put some notes, but I didn't write anything formally."

"Blimey, old habits I guess. I reckon I can just go about these maintenance workers and let Fawley take it from there. He'll probably say the workers were just doing some routine repairs though. They weren't high-profile, after all."

Hermione's expression turned serious, and her eyebrows lowered, just barely. "Actually, I think that's important," she said as if an idea just came to her. She moved briskly through the pages looking for something.

"What is it?"

"They being low-profile, as you said. Here!" Ron's wife found the right page and showed it to Ron, it was a schedule. "The repair visit was programmed months ahead, there was no way the attackers didn't know that, they seemed to have everything else planned. Also, look, Benedict Quirke was set to be in Azkaban next week, in an official visit to the warden. The Head of Law Enforcement, very high-profile, wouldn't you say?"

"So?" asked Ron as his eyes went through the schedule.

"So why didn't they wait? Why do this during a visit of some maintenance workers when they could have done it with the Head of a Department there?"

Ron got her point, but still, it didn't feel like this was a lead, "Dunno, but does it matter? They died, if there was a dodgy business with them, well, it's done."

"Unless they're alive."

Ron stared at her for a moment, wondering if she was joking, "Hermione... are you—"

"See this."

Hermione handed Ron a criminal profile, one of a thin man with a dark moustache and a wicked smile. He had read of this man already, he was said to be one of the few men capable of pulling out an explosion like the one that took place in Azkaban. Last week Harry had brought the man's name along with some other suspects.

Before Ron could go deep into that file again, Hermione was quick in pointing out the parts she found relevant, "Garvan Ferrara, American and a known fugitive. The Italians are looking for him for several accounts of arson. They say, and I quote, 'Ferrara is as skilled as he is dangerous. Beware, he can bring down a building with little effort as well as vanish from thin air in a rush of fake flames'. Remember the purple flames from first year? Someone like Ferrara can surely master a thing like that, on a large scale. What if these people weren't killed but transported elsewhere? A setup?"

"Hermione, I'm going to stop you there before the fake bodies argument comes. This sounds mental! You know that right? Are you listening to yourself? Why would they want to kidnap a simple fireplace worker who—"

"Who knows everything about the Floo network? Including the fireplaces at the Ministry?" Hermione crossed her arms and arched her eyebrow.

The silence took over as Ron considered his wife's words. Then he stood up and looked at their own fireplace, scratching the back of his head. A 'fake-fireplace' his muggle neighbours would call it, yet very useful for them.

Yes, Ron admitted to himself, it was true that if the fireplace worker was alive all of this could make sense. Still, the theory seemed so far-fetched, and simply mad...

"It's probably nothing," Hermione allowed as she joined Ron, holding his hand, "I think I might be wrong here, but I get the feeling I'm close to something. This is the only lead I have found so far and you lose nothing by looking at the man's office. Most likely he is truly dead, however, that doesn't mean you can't still find something there."

It took only a moment for Ron to sigh and nod, "Yeah, I guess it wouldn't hurt. We did promise to take a look around."

"Thank you," Hermione said, more relaxed. She placed a kiss on Ron's lips and removed a few crumbles away from his jacket.

"I'm warning you though, we're not likely to find anything there. The only stories I've heard about night shifts are dead boring," Ron said, trying to smile.

"That would be nice. Boring is good."

Precisely then, the fireplace burst into green flames. Ron and Hermione barely turned their heads to look at it.

"Thought to give you a wake-up call," Harry's voice echoed throughout the house as his face appeared between the green flames, right inside the fireplace.

"As you can see I'm up and ready to go."

"Hermione's doing, isn't it?" A smile was visible on Harry's image.

"Oi!"

Ron's wife was smiling. "Partially. Goodnight Harry."

"Goodnight Hermione, hope you get a good rest, you still have plenty of hours left," Harry's head said and then turned to look at Ron. "See you in five?"

Ron nodded, and the green flames disappeared at once, the fireplace was back to normal.

"Take care."

"I don't have anything to worry about. I would be more scared if I had to deal with those shifty bureaucrats you see every day."

"Your brother is one of them."

"Well, more reason to be careful," said Ron smiling, he leaned close to her and kissed her tenderly. "Love you."

"I love you too, Ron," Hermione answered warmly.

At the fireplace, Ron grabbed a handful of Floo powder and turned to his wife. "It's great Mum always has some extra around, bet the main entrance is dead cold at this hour."

Hermione rolled her eyes with a smile. "Next time don't forget it."

With that, Ron threw the powder into the fireplace, and the green flames were back, covering him entirely. "The Ministry of Magic," he said out loud, and he saw the image of his wife slowly fading away through the flames. As she disappeared, Ron got a weird feeling. He had seen her saying goodbye to him plenty of times but this just wasn't the same. His wife's face reflected fear and worry and, for some reason, Ron got the instant hunch that he shouldn't have left her. It was too late for call in sick though and soon the image before Ron changed.

o0o0o

Ron hadn't seen the Ministry's Atrium so empty in years, it didn't even look like the same place anymore. The whole black wooden floor was visible and it had no signs of the ton of people who were surely going to walk over it in a few hours. The peacock blue ceiling filled with its golden symbols matched in some twisted way with the floor as well. It gave a dismal glow to the whole scene. Ron got the feeling that only sinister things could happen there, especially since it didn't look much different now from how he saw it at the end of his fifth year at Hogwarts.

The monument in the middle of the hall was different this time though.

It was an enormous landmark. Two big walls of polished black obsidian met at an open angle, facing the entrance of the hall, only a small gap separated them from one another. They were filled with golden engravings all across their black surface, and even when those weren't entirely readable from the distance Ron knew perfectly well what they said. Those were the names of all the people who had died in the war, or at least all of those they knew about. The structure had been placed shortly after the war ended, to remind everyone of what they had lost. It was named Memory of Our Fallen Ones, or something like that, but everyone just called it The Black Memorial. The name gave it a sense of fatality that fit with its purpose.

A person was standing in front of the memorial, his back was to Ron but it couldn't be anybody else.

Harry was a few feet away from the black curtains, admiring them with a blank expression. Ron could understand him, he must have passed by it a thousand times now but there wasn't a single one he didn't stop by to stare. Not even when Ron walked to his side, Harry looked away from the monument. His eyes kept moving to plenty of different places on it. Ron knew those places and had known the people who had owned those names, and yet, his attention was always attracted to one single spot at the lower left side of the right wall.

Ron sighed, thinking of his brother once more.

"You know," Harry suddenly said, taking Ron by surprise, "Sometimes I feel like they're here and not at Godric's Hollow."

Harry was staring at the base of the memorial, where a pedestal in the middle of the two walls was holding a golden plaque. Above it, at the small portion where the two walls met, two names seemed to catch more attention than any other, even when the letters weren't bigger than the rest.

The Potters have been dead for over twenty years now, Ron knew Harry remembered them only in dreams. They died defending Harry when Voldemort tried to kill him as a baby, a despicable action that ultimately resulted in the evil wizard's downfall. It was that event that had marked all of Harry's life. He was and will always be The Chosen One, The Boy Who Lived.

"I'm not following you mate," Ron said, quite puzzled.

"What I mean is... I know they're at Godric's Hollow, there I feel something I don't feel at any other place. I really connect with them," Harry started, then he moved his round shaped glasses a little. "But… this is what they always were for me and everyone else. It's very hard sometimes to think about them without remembering him."

The names of the Potters, shining golden on the black walls of the Memorial, seemed to draw Ron to them. He imagined for a moment what would it be like, to never have met his parents. Compared to all those years Ron had spent with his parents, what did Harry have?

"There's the album mate and tons of stories. You have memories, letters, things from the vault, stuff," Ron answered sadly.

"I know, but still, that's what they are, things. They should be here. They would have loved to meet their grandchild."

That was something Ron couldn't deny. He wasn't very good at this, however, he had lost someone too and he knew what to say.

"They're here mate, somewhere. Maybe your dad is hoping your boy doesn't end up being a gloomy prat as you are. You're kind of a git sometimes too. I reckon the kid will turn up alright, mind you. He'll have Ginny to toughen him up."

Harry showed his first smile since Ron arrived, "Thanks."

After putting an arm over his old friend, Ron said, "Guess it won't be too hard to pick a name now."

Harry nodded.

Ron was thinking how much of Hermione's theory could he share with Harry without being called mad or if he should tell him now when Harry took him by surprise.

"There are problems, Ron," his friend said soberly, it was as if a shadow had returned to the young man's thoughts, "Some of our guys think they tracked messages. They believe an attack in St. Mungo's is being planned."

"St. Mungo's?"

"I didn't want to say it at the party for obvious reasons. It's unclear if this is real or not, either way, we have to be careful."

"You're taking the mickey on me, aren't you? If this is true, why are we even here?" Ron looked back to the fireplaces, wondering how much time it would take them to reach St. Mungo's.

"I argued with Marcus, told him I wanted to be in St. Mungo's. You know Redfern though, he seems confident everything is going to be fine. He wants us here to coordinate and he really said he wants his best wands where he has fewer numbers."

For a moment Ron didn't know what to say, with every second that passed he was feeling more certain that something wasn't right. As if he just kept getting endless signs that something bad was about to happen. Hermione's words kept coming back to him too, "What if it's a smokescreen, to hit somewhere else?"

"I know where you're going."

"Hermione's always right mate. Well, at least in this sort of rubbish. Don't tell her I said that, though." Ron paused briefly, "I have a bad feeling."

"I do too, but I'm the Head Auror's most trusted man. I can't ask Redfern for more men here when an attack is feared at St. Mungo's," Harry answered, visibly troubled, "What if I ask for more men and they attack over there? How would that turn out?"

Ron didn't know what to say. His friend was right and he didn't envy his position, taking decisions like that had never been Ron's strong trait. He raised his eyes to the blue ceiling, the place felt cold and so void of answers. Whoever designed the Ministry should have thought about making it less sombre, maybe some orange would have helped.

The two friends continued walking towards the building, where they greeted a few Aurors who were patrolling. Everything seemed to be in order. It only made Ron more uneasy, it was way too calm.

After walking through most of the Atrium, a tall and muscular man approached them. He was in his forties and had a tough blond beard, proper of a man of action.

"Nice to have you two around," he said.

"It'll only be a few days, but we're glad to be here too," Harry answered. "Any news?"

The man shook his head. "Everything's calm, as usual."

"Good to know Turner."

Harry and Ron were already heading to the left-wing of the building to check on the defences when the man called them back. "Hey, Potter?"

"Is there something wrong?"

"No, I was just wondering. Have they found him yet?"

"Who?" Ron asked.

"The man who gave them information."

Harry's face turned as hard as stone. "I'm afraid we don't know anything about that yet. It could be anyone, it could also be that there was no man and the attackers just found a different way of getting their information."

Ron wondered if his friend really considered the possibility that there was no rat at all. Probably he was just being cautious.

"The boys are saying Pucey has looked distracted and worried for a few days now. Smith and Leavestone were quite nervous during the audiences too, I've heard," said Turner as if it was a casual comment.

Ron was a bit surprised. Although, by the hard look Harry gave the man, it was clear his friend was pretty much aware of those rumours. "That's mere gossip. Nervousness is not proof of anything, and I won't have people making accusations based on such folly."

Turner sobered, the man surely had friends at Azkaban and wanted to see things solved quickly. Ron wanted that as well but he knew Harry wouldn't go after someone without rock-solid evidence.

"Veritaserum could clear things up faster than you can say Quidditch," Ron suggested.

"You know we can't push for that without solid evidence, and it wouldn't stand in a trial either way," Harry said without hesitating, "I don't want to hear facts, not rumours. We all know the proper channels if we come up with any kind of evidence. In the meantime, we need to be as united as possible for when we face the enemy forces again."

Both Ron and Turner nodded. The man with the blond beard continued his way looking as if he was a child who just got reprimanded.

As they moved forward, Ron glanced at his best mate. Harry had changed a lot after the war. Even when Ron's friend had always been the one making the decisions, he was different somehow. Harry had acquired strong confidence in himself and everyone saw him as a natural leader, even Aurors way older than they were. There were even those who put Harry as Head of the Office once Redfern retired, which could make him the youngest person ever holding that post.

Ron smiled at the thought, his best mate was perfect for the job. It would have to happen eventually, if not after Redfern then later. Of course, Ron could be there being the right-hand to the Head of the Auror Office, which was no small feat either.

Out of nowhere, Ron's smile faded a bit. After hearing George's offer, the idea of life as an Auror had been losing its appeal to him, especially after his earlier exchange with Hermione. Ron had followed Harry to the department once the war ended, but the circumstances seemed to be changing.

Unfortunately, Ron couldn't think of leaving just yet, not until they dealt with their current problem. He had been dreading the moment when he would have to share Hermione's theories with Harry, but it had to be done sooner or later.

After checking the Atrium, they went into the building, heading to the Auror Office at level two. Once he found himself alone with Harry, Ron turned to him before reaching the lift, he was hardly going to find a better moment and it was better to be done with it.

"Err, mate? Do you think we can spare a moment to check some other place before going to the office?"

Harry was taken aback, "What place?"

Ron sighed, "The Floo Network Office."

o0o0o

For the next half hour or so, Harry and Ron went through every little detail in a small maintenance office belonging to the Floo Network Authority. It was the place where Tobias Bosley, the old fireplace maintenance employee at the Azkaban explosion, used to work.

The office was grey, it had a low ceiling and a modest desk. In the end, a rickety fireplace was off, likely to be used for testing purposes. Harry and Ron turned through every file and folder there, checked for anything that had changed since the last inspection and even threw every unconcealing charm they knew around the place. Nothing suspicious was found, nothing the initial report hadn't told them already. Ron wasn't sure if that lessened his worry or not.

"There's nothing Ron," said Harry at last, after checking behind the portrait of some old witch who wore a headdress which resembled two horns, "I can't believe you brought me here for this, but we did check. There's nothing."

Ron nodded, at least they had tried. He had just finished looking over the old fireplace and hadn't found anything interesting either. They did check everything, even a brown hat rack with only a couple of hats on it. The whole office had nothing that seemed dodgy or even exciting. The only exciting thing around were the joke products that Ron had taken from George at the party and that he just realized were still in his pockets.

"You know," Ron said, "Of all the raids to haunted houses, suspicious rooms and evil wizard lairs, this is by far the dullest one we have done. Isn't there an inspection of the Malfoys' house scheduled for this week or something?"

Being the professional Auror he was, Harry tried to avoid a laugh, but had a hard time doing it. He adjusted his glasses, rubbing his face a bit, then he looked right at Ron's eyes. It took a few seconds before he spoke.

"I'm really going to miss you," he said.

"Miss me? What do you mean?"

"At work, once you take George's offer."

Ron opened his mouth and yet no word came out, he wasn't aware Harry knew of the offer.

"George came to me before he asked you," said Harry, "He wanted my approval of sorts."

"I should've known. Well, I haven't said yes."

"Not sure why, it's perfect for you. I have been waiting for ages for you to tell me," Harry said, then took a long breath, "Look, Ron, this job is what moves me. I can't stand back and let someone else go through what happened to me, what happened to Teddy. I'm good at it and I like it here, to feel I'm doing my part. Ginny understands that. This isn't you though. You, as some of the others, wouldn't even have even joined if it weren't for that final battle. Neville knew it and left as soon as he could. I've seen you out there, you have the skills but it's about time you realized this isn't what you want."

The git. How was he so sure of what he wanted? Ron took a moment to think and, for the first time, he thought what it would mean to leave the Aurors for good, not return to this place every day, not to go out hunting for evil wizards and surrounded by wicked spells. He could still hear that voice sometimes, the locket's that was. Each time they were looking for a hexed item on a dodgy house, Ron imagined what it would be like to find another Horcrux, one that they had missed before. Honestly, that scared the crap out of him.

Harry was right. He should have taken George's offer the moment he mentioned it to him. Hermione would be happier, he would be happier.

"I'll leave once we catch the Azkaban men, mate," Ron said after a slow nod.

Harry shook his head, "I want to see your resignation at the end of the shift. I'll talk it over with Redfern."

"Are you mental?! I can't leave now, not with them out there," Ron insisted.

"There will always be someone out there. That's just the way it is. We'll be fine."

Now that was unexpected. Ron didn't know this was going to be his last day as an Auror when he got out of home today. Maybe all the uneasiness he had felt earlier was for nothing.

It wasn't something they did, and yet, he couldn't avoid hugging Harry then. Sometimes endings were like that, like Quidditch, one moment you have your eyes dead set on the quaffle thinking the game will go on for hours and the next someone catches the snitch and it's time for the next game.

"Thanks, mate," he said.

As they left the room Ron asked something that came to him, "So, the fireplace worker... Does he still have access to these fireplaces?"

Ron wasn't sure why he asked that, he thought their inspection of the small office had been clear enough. Harry raised an eyebrow but he answered either way.

"I guess so, they'll change those once the replacement arrives, maybe a week or so. He only had access to the main ones and the one we saw in his office."

Ron nodded, "So he wouldn't be able to get into Redfern's or Kingsley's offices?"

A look of concern appeared on Harry, "Ron, we just checked, I don't think that man is alive."

"I know, it's just that—" Ron wasn't sure what to say, but his conversation with Hermione kept coming back at him. There was something off, his gut was telling him so.

Ron couldn't put his thoughts to words though, because at that moment a young man came rushing to them, one of the newest Auror recruits. Parker was his last name.

"Here you are! There's something you need to see, sir," he told Harry, "We were waiting for you at the office, when you didn't arrive we went to look for you."

"What's wrong?" Harry asked.

"When we got here tonight we saw the door of your office ajar. There was a note addressed to you on the desk."

Ron and Harry exchanged nervous looks.

"By the looks of it, I suppose it's not an invitation to some party, is it?" asked Ron.

"We wouldn't know, sir. The note is closed and stuck to the desk."

"Blimey! My last day and we have people sending you hexed messages," he told Harry.

His friend nodded, "Let's go."

o0o0o

Moments later they rushed into level two of the Ministry of Magic, Ernie Macmillan was waiting for them just outside the lift. Their old classmate was glad to see them and lead them around the corner into the Auror Office. The place was filled with empty cubicles now. The maps and pictures in the walls seemed to be the only occupants of the room and Ron could see the clock there. They were scarce minutes away from September.

Harry and Ron stepped into the office, two more Aurors joined them announcing the same thing about the note on Harry's desk. They all went to the back of the place where the personal offices were located, all of them were closed except for Harry's. Inside, two other Aurors were trying to discover what spell was placed on that mysterious note.

"Any luck?" Ron asked as he stood in front of Harry's desk. There was a picture of his sister not far away.

"No, sir," answered an Auror who seemed to be only a couple of years younger than Ron. It seemed like they didn't only have fewer numbers but also the less experienced ones as well.

"Have you run all the proper detection spells?" Harry asked.

Ernie replied with a slow nod after exchanging a doubtful look with his peers, "We checked it wasn't a letter bomb and the sort. The usual."

Harry turned to Ron questioningly, who shrugged at his friend. "I don't know, mate. It sounds dodgy if you ask me. Whoever sent you this should've used the regular office post. Sticky notes aren't the sort of thing that inspires trust precisely."

"It might be urgent. There's no post on Sundays."

"Rubbish! They could've bloody well waited 'till morning at least."

What did the sender of this message — whoever the hell that was — had to say that couldn't wait a few hours? Harry definitely understood there was something wrong there, but instead of continuing the argument he turned back to the Aurors in the office.

"Who was the first to see it?"

"I was," said the young Parker.

"Anything strange?"

"No sir, everything's in order. Everything aside from the note that is."

"Did you see anyone leaving?" Harry pressed.

"I crossed Adrian Pucey by the lift. He seemed a tad jittery to me."

Ron turned to look at Harry. His friend was surely finding that suspicious but didn't ask more about it.

"Let's get this done then," Harry said after a while.

"Wait, mate! Are you seriously grabbing that thing? It has trap written all over it."

"Calm down Ron, the lads already performed all the basic detection spells and, if anything happens, I'm in a room filled with qualified Aurors, am I not?" Everyone nodded hesitantly.

Ron seemed doubtful. "I don't know Harry."

"It could be important, and I won't wake up a curse-breaker to deal with a sticky note."

Without waiting a second more Harry did a couple of detection spells himself and, since he didn't find anything odd, he tried to lift the note. At the touch of his fingers, the note seemed willing to be raised. Nothing appeared to be wrong with it while Harry took it.

Slowly, Ron's friend moved his eyes across the paper and the colour abandoned his face with each passing second. His expression was quite unsettled by the time he finished.

"What?" Ron asked. Harry didn't answer until he finished reading and put the paper in his pocket. He turned to the Atrium through the office windows, then at his watch, then back at Ernie.

"How many wands do we have?" he asked.

"Err, like, right now?" Ernie seemed taken by surprise. "Maybe ten in the building, another five outside. Mostly, trainees, the night shift is usually the first task assigned to new recruits."

Harry looked at the young scared faces around him, "Keep five in the building, place them at the windows with the best view of the Atrium. At my signal, if I send it, call Redfern to bring backup. This could still be fake. Send the rest to the Atrium,"

"Harry...?" Ron asked dumbfounded.

"Come with me," Harry said, exiting the office. "Ernie, you're in charge inside here. Remember, windows and main entrance are primary points," he yelled on his way out while a pale Ernie nodded.

Five men to defend all entrance points and a few windows of a building as big as that one? Was he serious?

"Care to tell me what the hell was on that bloody paper?!" Ron said once they were on the lift.

"A warning, of an attack here."

Ron was surprised only slightly. "But you said the defences—"

"If the informant is telling the truth they won't matter," Harry looked dead serious, as he passed Ron the note, which didn't take long to get through.

The one who wrote the note made it clear he had been the rat for Azkaban and that he was sorry. He said what he had told the attackers before and also a hurried line about the attack to the Ministry that was apparently on the way. Through the fireplaces, around forty to fifty attackers. There was also a cryptic message saying that they were after something at the Ministry, something they needed to open and that might be related to a mirror.

"Blimey… Do you think that— What Hermione said—"

"I don't know," answered Harry.

Ron's head was spinning, this was too much. His eyes returned to the hurried note. In the end, the writer had the nerve to finish with 'When everything else fails, we still have hope.'

He gritted his teeth, "Can you believe the prick?! It was Pucey, wasn't it?"

"It wasn't signed, but seems legit. He knows details about Azkaban that most people don't."

"So, you believe it?" Ron continued in a lower tone.

"I don't know what to think, but it's best to be prepared. The note says they attack at midnight. We have three minutes."

Then the lift ringed and they got to the Atrium level. Outside seven or eight young Aurors were waiting for them, some sent by Ernie. "Blimey! Ernie is quicker than I expected. These guys gave me a scare," Ron mumbled.

Harry gave him a half-smile and they all went out of the building at a fast pace. Ron turned back as they moved towards the Aurors on the Atrium, he saw Ernie's people already moving to the windows, he wished this was nothing but a false alarm. Boring was good, that was what Hermione had said.

Looking at the few Aurors they got and with the limited number of ways to get in or out of the Ministry, Ron realized how bad their position was if they couldn't rely on the magical defences of the place. He felt as if in a faraway island, surrounded, out of reach of immediate backup.

If this note was true then it couldn't end well, fifteen men against fifty? not well at all. He thought the bloody attackers didn't have those numbers. Maybe the note was just a stupid prank. Maybe it was all a lie.

"What's this? What's happening?" Turner, the leader of the Atrium lads, asked when he saw them.

"We received a warning of an attack."

"What? Are you sure Potter? Where?"

"Here. Any moment now. I put people on the windows, we should prepare barricades facing the entrance," Harry said.

"This is madness!"

Poof.

It was the sudden sound of one of the fireplaces as the first dark figure came in.

Poof. Poof.

A second and a third came out. In the empty Atrium, the echo amplified the sound. As if a huge giant was knocking at the Ministry's doors.

Turner seemed petrified, so it was Harry who raised his voice. Without losing time, Ron and the lads sent by Ernie started lifting barricades.

"Everyone, listen to me, I need all of the Atrium defences by my side. Now," Harry's magnified voice echoed side by side with the fireplaces.

The Aurors scattered throughout the Atrium seemed confused by both the green flames and Harry's voice, still, they did as they were asked.

"Who are they? Is it the morning yet?" one said surprised.

"Don't be thick! It's barely midnight," another answered.

Ron didn't turn to Harry and kept raising the barricades. He was sweating and trying to remember the last time he saw Hermione. She was in her nightgown saying goodbye to him through the green flames of his fireplace.

"This is not a drill, prepare your wands but don't fire yet," Harry's voice continued flooding the Ministry's Atrium, "Defence position. I repeat, don't engage until I give the order. This is not a drill!"