Chapter XVII

He gripped the letter with both hands, re-reading it two more times to be sure he wasn't imagining things. Despite his best hopes, the words remained the same. He hurried over to the contraption - there was no time to waste.

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

There was silence for nearly a full minute until, finally, the response came. "Yes, you have something to report? Over."

Mauro swallowed heavily, gathering himself. "I asked my grand-nephew to keep tabs on the activities of the resistance at Hogwarts. He successfully inserted himself within the student rebellion, sending me information ever since."

"And what has he discovered? Over."

"The leader of the largest resistance faction - it is the Dark Lord Voldemort. And what's more, he has as his prisoner a young witch-"

"Repeat your last message," the voice interrupted, their urgency now matching Mauro's. "Confirm, Voldemort has returned?"

"Yes. He's come back from the dead once more."

"I must inform the family of this development," the voice said. "They need to know-"

"Wait, there's more I have to tell you!"

"Right, I'm sorry. Continue, over."

A loud rumble shook his home, and Mauro's eyes widened as the wards fractured, disappearing as a section of the ceiling disintegrated. Floating in mid-air, hovering above the demolished roof was a man in black robes, his handsome face illuminated by glowing red eyes.

The muggle communications device shattered, splintered to pieces from a Reductor. "In my day, the Zabini family had no involvement in Magical Britain. How unfortunate for you, for that to have changed."

Mauro scrambled away from the Dark Lord, retreating until his back pressed against the wall. "You don't have to do this. My family is working to bring down the barrier that isolates us from the rest of the world. We could help you, aid you in your goals!"

Cold laughter greeted his pleas. "Britain's encirclement aids my goals at this time. When the walls eventually come down, this country will be unified beneath my rule. Out of this crucible will emerge a people bitter, angry, and determined to set the world on fire." The tip of the wand pointed at Mauro began to glow a sinister green. "Alas, you won't be a part of my glorious conquest. Avada Kedavra."


"Avada Kedavra." The green flash impacted the ceremonial armor and the man collapsed to the ground. "Was that the last one?"

A disillusioned shape next to him shifted. "Yes. All of the watchmen have been accounted for. Are you ready to reveal your secret method to get past the castle's wards now?" Tris asked. "I admit, I'm curious to see what Octava's cooked up."

Unus slipped his wand into his sleeve and then reached into a pocket to withdraw the prize he'd obtained at Tuor's citadel. Like every time his fingers so much as grazed it, the wand practically hummed in anticipation. He'd been experimenting with the wand, seeking to mitigate the effects that it had on his mental faculties, to compensate for the way it altered judgment and mood to no avail.

Nonetheless, despite the danger the wand was almost unbelievably powerful. Especially in the current global environment, such an advantage couldn't be entirely discarded.

Bärenschlössle - the Bear Castle - had been the Duchy's seat of power for almost a millennia. Boasting thick walls, enchanted stonework, and surrounded by a dense forest, it had steadfastly protected Württemberg's rulers from the many conflicts that had raged across central Europe. Such a fortification had almost assuredly contributed to the royal family's decision to endorse this madness.

But there were no walls thick enough to hide from the Nine.

He didn't even incant the spell merely running through the wand motion and silently casting the Blasting Hex. A massive ball of orange light slammed through the wards, continuing on past the thick walls, and finally detonating against the building itself. The explosion was of such magnitude that Quinctus and Tris both covered their faces with their arms, attempting to shield themselves from the flying debris.

When the smoke cleared, even Unus was stunned at the result. A full half of Bärenschlössle was gone, the force of his spell so great that whole sections of the castle had caved in. Screams of terror were audible from the wreckage, voices of survivors trapped beneath the shattered stonework.

"What was that?" Quinctus asked in shock. "How…?"

"Come, we've no time to waste. We have to capture the Duke and his family."

"How do you know they even survived that?" Tris asked, running to catch up with him.

"I've been here before. Their quarters look to be intact."

Such was the chaos following his spell that most of the remaining guardsmen were occupied in trying to rescue the castle inhabitants, not seeking out intruders. The three of them encountered no obstacles, but by the time they arrived, the quarters were empty.

"Come, they must have fled to the throne room."

Here there was resistance, two guards at the entrance. Quinctus dispatched both with the peculiar piercing spell he'd acquired somewhere in the past, the two men scarcely having time to draw their wands before they collapsed to the ground.

Unus strode past their bodies, marching into the throne room where he regarded their targets.

"What is the meaning of this? Who are you?"

As they stepped forward, though, the torchlight illuminated the insignia on their robes, and the Marquess' face lost all color. "You- you're from the Confederation?"

"That's right," Tris said with a savage grin on her face. "You picked your side, and now the dragons have come home to roost."

"The Duchy is a sovereign nation!" the Duke protested. "According to the ICW's own founding charter-"

Twirling his wand in one hand, Quinctus interrupted in a bored tone. "You're not really going to try and hide behind our policies after joining a rebellion aimed at destroying us, are you?"

"It was my son, I had no idea what he'd planned!"

The three Umbra exchanged amused looks, before Unus cleared his throat and spoke in an officious tone. "In accordance with the emergency resolution passed by the Sorcerer's Assembly, you and your family have been found acting as willful collaborators with individuals and groups which threaten the viability of the Statute of Secrecy." He paused, casting an evaluative gaze at the wands that the Duke, his son, and his son's family held tightly. "Nevertheless, given that a member of the Amann family has sat on that throne for centuries, I'm willing to negotiate a compromise with you."

"What sort of compromise?"

"If you surrender, I give my word that your family's rule will continue uninterrupted. If not, the Duchy of Württemberg will end tonight."

There was no hesitation. "We accept your terms." The Duke, his son, his son's wife and their two older children held their wands out, not resisting as Quinctus' summoning spell dragged them out of their hands.

Unus waited until they were disarmed before speaking again. "Very well. Little girl," he said, beckoning to the Marquess' youngest child, a girl of no more than six years. "Come here."

"What do you want with her?" the Marchioness cried, reaching down to hold her daughter protectively.

"We had a deal!" the Duke shouted. "You gave your word!"

"And I have not broken it. Your family line will remain on the throne. Your granddaughter will assume the role of Duchess, one well-prepared to be a responsible leader," Unus said, walking forward and pushing the Marchioness away, grabbing the little girl and dragging her away. "I will escort the Duchess to meet her new minders. Kill the rest."

The sounds of spellfire and screams reached his ears, and he had to forcefully tug the little girl as she stumbled, frightened eyes looking over her shoulder at the scene behind them. It took all of his will to not turn back and add his own curses to the mix, the excitement causing his pulse to pound steadily in his ears. It had been almost too easy, he lamented. Hardly a challenge at all to depose a whole government - in a single night, at that! Was it too much to ask for an actual challenge?

It wasn't until he reached their set apparition point that Unus realized he was still gripping the unusual, lengthy wand.


"Hi."

Daphne paused, gauging his mood before offering a weak smile. "Hi."

"What happened yesterday? I wasn't, um, too forward, was I? I know we were moving fast and all, but-"

"No, it wasn't that. I'm sorry for- for not coming back, I had a lot on my mind and I needed some time alone."

"Where were you? I went to your quarters, but you weren't there."

"I went to the beach."

His eyebrows raised. "For the whole day?"

She didn't reply right away, just stared, trying to memorize the expression on his face, the way he looked at her. "Thank you for packing my things."

"Yea, well we're leaving today and I didn't want you to stress."

It was obvious he was uncomfortable, unsure of how to act or what to say. Daphne wished she had the same problem. "There's something I wanted to talk to you about, something I was thinking about yesterday."

"Okay. Do you want to go somewhere else?" he asked. They were standing in the corridor outside of Alessio's office, after all.

"Actually, it concerns Lord Zabini, too, but I didn't want to spring it on you without warning." Daphne leaned closer, lowering her voice. "I've been thinking about our interactions with him, about how much we can, or should trust him."

"What do you mean? He saved our lives, he started a war on our behalf! If he's not on our side, he's certainly playing a very long game."

"He saved our lives and started a war on his own behalf. He's never tried to hide that from us, Harry, he's been honest about the potential gains his family would reap should we prove successful."

"Maybe we have our own individual goals, but we're still in this together. He's linked his fate to our own."

"And if our interests were to no longer coincide?"

Harry cocked his head in confusion. "What is this about?"

Daphne reached for his hand, steeling herself for what was to come. "I'm scared, and I want to do everything I can to make sure we both live through this. To make certain we get back to Britain, to save Sirius and protect Tori."

"We will," Harry said, tugging on her hand to pull her closer but Daphne resisted, putting her other hand on his chest to keep him at arm's length.

"Lord Zabini wants more than anything to leave his family, his heirs, in a position of dominance, to expand their influence beyond Western Europe, to forge Italy into a world power under Zabini control. He is loyal only to the future of his name." Harry's eyebrows rose expectantly. It was time; she'd come up with this the day before. "That's why I want you to go inside and tell Lord Zabini you want to marry Chiara before we leave for Brazil."

Harry stared at her, his face blank and expressionless. He stared, and stared, and in the face of his accusing look she started to prattle on, offering further explanation. "It's the only way we can guarantee his full support. We're about to travel across the world! We need some assurance that he's not going to abandon us if things start unravelling here while we're gone!" Still Harry remained silent. "Would you say something, for Merlin's sake?"

"Why are you doing this?"

"I already told you-"

"I know what you said. But even if we pretend yesterday didn't happen, you loathe Chiara. So what is this about?"

"I'm trying to protect you, to keep you safe!"

"We're going to be fine. I've known Alessio for years, he's never betrayed me and I don't expect him to start now. As for Chiara, I destroyed the contract weeks ago. She's marrying someone else, a quidditch player or something." Harry released her hand, turning his back on her and facing the door they stood outside of. "If you don't want to be with me, say so. Don't make up these theories on why we wouldn't work. Now, if you're done, can we go inside?"

"Wait." Daphne tried to swallow the sudden lump in her throat, closing her eyes to try and hold back the tears she felt prickling at her eyelids. "I- I can't… when I went to the healer yesterday, he found a problem."

Harry turned back around. "Are you sick? What's wrong?"

She so desperately didn't want to say it aloud. Feelings of shame, of inadequacy flooded her being. "That night, when Erra- the night my parents died, when I was hurt, there were complications."

"I know," he said, and Daphne chanced a glance at his face, seeing his lips drawn and brows furrowed with worry. "When I cured you, your magic took on my instability."

"At St. Mungo's, that was all they were concerned about, and I was- I was a mess. And then, it was one thing after another; it felt like I never had time to catch my breath, much less…" She trailed off.

"What? What is it?"

"The healer, he told me that-" It still felt so unreal, it was hard for her to get the words out. "When I went to get the contraceptive potion, the healer found a problem, a lingering issue from the curse on Erra's blade. Because of my injury, I won't ever bear a child," she finished with a whisper.

"I'm sorry," he said immediately, and with sincerity. "There's nothing to be done? No option for treatment?"

Daphne felt her face pinch, fighting her natural inclination to shut down a conversation topic so personal as this. "The healer didn't mince words: this is permanent." Harry stretched his arms out as if to embrace her but she pushed his hands away, stepping out of his reach. "Stop! Don't you get it? We can't be together!"

"Why not?"

She closed her eyes, slowly shaking her head back and forth. "You're going to need an heir. I'm barren! Being with me is a hereditary dead end!"

"You don't know that," Harry said, sympathy practically dripping off every word. It made her sick. "We'll find other healers, get other opinions. I know you must feel-"

"You don't know anything about how I feel," she hissed. "You have no idea what it's like, to have something you take for granted stolen away from you. To be damaged, incomplete! I'm- I didn't even know how much the possibility meant to me until I lost it! How can you possibly understand what I'm feeling?"

Harry's green and golden eyes bored into her own, but he didn't respond right away. "I was cursed by that blade as well; for all we know, I may have the same side effects that you do," he eventually offered.

"You don't. The healer gave you a complete check up while you recovered from your injuries in the Channel Tunnel. You- in this regard, you're perfectly healthy," she said, trying and failing to disguise her bitterness. "I went back to see the Zabinis' healer this morning with the same question. He speculated that the phoenix tears mitigated any lingering physical damage you might have faced from the curse."

"Then we'll find a phoenix-"

"Just… just stop. I can't take your pity. And I won't- I can't be some passing fling that warms your bed until you find a real woman."

Harry's reaction to her rejection was almost instantaneous. His hands grasped the back of her head, tilting her face upward as his lips crashed against her own. She involuntarily stepped back, retreating across the hall until her back touched the wall opposite the office door, but Harry followed, unrelenting. She tried to turn away, but his grip held her in place. She struck at him, first with pushes, then with fists, but still he did not let up.

It wasn't until she summoned her magic, calling on her power in preparation of blasting him through the wall that he broke off their kiss. With panting breaths, they remained pressed against each other.

"Get off of me," she demanded, hating herself for the way her gaze remained locked on his lips.

"You're hurting, so I'll forgive how dumb you're being. You found out about this yesterday, We - yes, we - have our whole lives to figure out a solution. Maybe the muggles have some technology that can fix this, or maybe we'll adopt a child. Maybe we won't even live to see the end of this war, and this whole problem will be for nothing. But I'm not giving you up. You're not damaged or incomplete. And trust me, you're definitely a real woman."

"Adopted children can't inherit family titles. You need a true son or daughter to pass on the Potter name-"

"Daphne," his voice had an edge, a flintiness that she'd not heard since they arrived in Sardinia. A shiver went down her spine. "I was adopted, and trust me when I say that Norm and Diane were as 'true' a mother and father as my birth parents were."

'Of course, how could I have forgotten about that?' she thought, feeling her face heat up in embarrassment. "Please don't make this harder than it has to be."

"I won't, and that's why I'm going to stay by your side. You're not going to deal with this alone, we'll face it together just like everything else. Now let's get this meeting over with and, if you like, we can talk more about it when we get to Brazil."

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and this time she allowed the gesture to stand, greedily accepting the comfort despite all the promises she'd made herself to be strong. "Why do you have to be like this? Why can't you do the right thing, for once?"

Harry guided her back to the office door. "Standing by the person you love is the right thing."


January 11, 1997

"What are you doing?"

"Today feels like a 'deep thought' sort of day."

Susan seemed perplexed by this response, her confused look so cute that Luna couldn't help but giggle. "And that requires you to be upside down?"

Luna nodded emphatically, suspended in mid-air by Blinky's hold on her ankles, her friend's leathery wings beating a steady rhythm. The two hovered more than six feet off the ground. "Of course! If you want to think, shouldn't you ensure your brain has plenty of blood flow?"

"I- I guess so. Could you come down? There's something I wanted to talk to you about."

"Okay!" She sent a mental request to Blinky, who flew higher momentarily before letting her go, swooping down just in time to catch Luna and right her in mid-air. In just a few seconds, she was back on solid ground. "How's your day going?"

"It's going well. I never thought I'd be grateful for Herbology, but our vegetable garden is coming along nicely."

"Oh? I sense another stew for dinner! Yum!" If she were being honest, Susan's cooking was rather bland, but Luna didn't have the heart to tell her that. "What did you want to talk about?"

"I was thinking I'd take a trip to Diagon Alley. There's some supplies we're in need of, and-"

"No. You're not leaving me. I can get whatever you require from the muggle village down south." Though, truth be told, it seemed like that village was quieter each time she went, with noticeably fewer people every visit. Perhaps muggles migrated south for the winter? Daddy showed her, years back, the way that muggles flew in winged metal machines. What if doing so made them mimic the behavior of winged animals, like how animagi took on characteristics of their form?

"Luna? Luna, come back to me, I need to talk to you!" Susan's voice gradually reentered her consciousness. What had they been talking about, again? "I appreciate your offer, but I need to go. Eddie has no shoes or clothes, and my conjuration isn't enough to keep him warm. Plus, my vegetables aren't going to be enough to see us through the winter."

Right, Susan wanted to leave. "I'll get him clothes, and I'll bring us back more food. You don't have to trouble yourself!"

She brushed a strand of long crimson hair out of her face, and Luna was momentarily entranced. "Again, that's kind of you, but there's certain things I need that you probably can't find. And I know what sizes my son needs."

Her hair was so pretty, the dark red reminiscent of a summer sunset, and always so shiny and smooth. How did she do it? Luna pulled one of her own bangs forward, her eyes crossing as she tried to examine it. It felt greasy to the touch, and despite being so stringy, she constantly had irritating knots and tangles. Wait, was Susan still talking?

"-be back soon, okay? I'll pick up some things for you, as well, while we're out if you tell me what you-"

"No. I said you're not leaving. I'm not going to let you walk out on me, ever again."

As if sensing her desire, Skipper approached, skittering on its four legs, pincers gnashing menacingly, the antennae on its face wafting in response to Luna's mood. Noodles appeared out of thin air, stepping from the shadow of a nearby tree, its scaly hands extended and all three of its tongues hissing while it approached Susan from behind.

Despite her anger, Luna was proud of the way Susan reacted. A month ago, her family's presence would have sent her fleeing back to the Lodge, but now she stood firm. Luna knew she'd come to love her family, if given time!

"I'm not walking out on you. When we leave this place for good, we'll do it together. I told you I'm not going to abandon you, Luna. But you have to let me take care of my son. He's part of my family, just like you. You wouldn't neglect your family, would you?"

A strange sort of buoyancy accompanied Susan's words. It was like they were their own little family, inside of her newer, larger family. She liked Susan's baby, he didn't cry that often and - unlike his mother - he seemed to appreciate the others.

Had Luna been neglecting her duties as a parent? Daddy worked hard on the magazine, but she always had shoes, and she didn't eat sweets all the time when she was a little girl. And if Susan were going to run away, would she really have waited this long to do so? Maybe-

'She abandoned you before, didn't she? The girl was never as loyal to you as she was to Harry. Perhaps she intends to take her child to be with him.'

Sunny's voice cut through her musing. He was right; Susan had always put Harry first, even when he wandered away time after time. "I know what you're planning. I'm not letting you go. You belong with me."

Susan didn't seem disturbed by her refusal. Instead, she nodded towards the Lodge. "Can we talk inside? I want to put Eddie down for a nap, then I'll meet you in your room."

There was something about the way her voice sounded, something unusual, but Luna wasn't able to decipher what was different, only that it was. She hummed a tune to herself, seated on the dirt floor of her room, and waited for Susan to come.

When she did arrive, she wore a look on her face Luna had never seen directed at her. Susan had shed her robes, and the shirt she wore seemed- it didn't appear to fit her very well, even though the older girl had thinned considerably since her arrival. Perhaps she wanted to find new clothes for herself, as well as her son? "Your shirt is very tight."

Susan smiled, and Luna felt a burst of happiness. "Yes, even though I keep losing weight, breastfeeding Eddie has kept these bigger than I'd like." She crossed her arms beneath her breasts, emphasizing her bust. "You're lucky, you know. The backaches I get aren't worth them."

Luna glanced down at her own chest, nodding in a thoughtful manner. She felt nervous and excited all at once, like when she took care of Eddie while Susan bathed. Susan came and sat down next to her, close enough that their shoulders brushed against each other's. Luna trembled at the contact.

"I thought we could talk more," she said, so close that Luna could smell the clean scent of the bar soap she used. For the first time in- well, a long time, she felt self-conscious. When was the last time she'd bathed, or changed her clothes? And why did her face feel so warm?

"You can't leave," she mumbled, but the command came out as more of a plea. "I won't let you."

"I'll come back. Just because I have to go doesn't mean I'm leaving. You see the difference, don't you?" Susan touched her, fingers deftly slipping through the tangled mess of blonde hair to touch the base of her neck. "You're shaking."

She was? She was. "Um- it's cold in here?" That wasn't intended to be a question, but the wrackspurts were really doing a number- oh! She hadn't been visited by wrackspurts in such a long time! Of course they would be behind these confusing feelings. But how did they find her, and why now, after so long? Maybe she'd try and hand-craft some spectre-specs- no, those were for finding nargles, not wrackspurts!

"Luna."

She jumped, feeling Susan's breath tickle her ear. "Y-yes?"

"Focus, you were drifting away again."

"Sorry." Susan was somehow even closer than before. Luna felt her heart hammering in her chest, a foreign excitement that was novel and exhilarating all at once.

"I don't think you're cold," Susan said, her voice hushed in the stifling quiet of the Lodge. "It feels downright hot to me."

Acting on a sudden urge she didn't even know she had, Luna closed the gap between them and pushed her lips against Susan's. She'd seen older students do it at Hogwarts, and Harry had kissed Susan plenty of times in front of her, so she tried to mimic their actions. Susan stiffened, the heels of her hands against Luna's shoulders, keeping her from getting closer for some reason.

That was okay, kissing was rather fantastic on its own, Luna thought. Far too quickly, Susan pushed her back a little, and their lips separated, each of them breathing faster than before. Once was nowhere near enough, though, and Luna leaned forward again, seeking out the older girl's lips.

"Wait, stop."

"What? What is it?" Luna didn't want to stop, but Susan's arms flexed, easily holding her at bay.

"I really need to go and get more supplies. For Eddie. For our family."

'Master…'

"How long would you be gone?"

"Not even a day. I'd have to sort some things out at Gringotts, but the shopping itself would be quick."

'Do not let her deceive you'

Luna watched, hypnotically, as Susan traced her lips with her tongue. "I- maybe. I'll think about it."

'Master-'

"I said I'll think about it!" Luna shouted, her raised voice shattering the stillness in the Lodge.

Susan got up off the floor, dusting off her trousers. "I should see to Eddie."

Luna let her leave, still suffused in the warmth of her first kiss. It was so… so wonderful! She couldn't wait to do it again! She felt like her heart might burst out of her chest, she was so deliriously happy.

Deciding Legs needed to hear about this exciting development, Luna hopped to her feet and made her way outside, pausing at the sound of sobs coming from Susan's room. Perhaps Eddie was a fussy baby, after all.


Neville patted himself down, letting out a sigh of relief at discovering everything was where it should be. Even with Remus and Minerva's apparition lessons, it was always smart to double-check when making a long trip.

"Wow!" Tori breathed, arriving side-along with Sirius a moment after him. "It's so- it's huge!"

"Hey! Give us some credit, we've been at this for almost two months!"

"Still…" The greenhouse was nearly the size of a quidditch pitch, and space-expansion charms inside tripled that area. Rows of massive troughs, filled with moist soil, lined the inside and the smell of manure was overpowering. "Where are we?"

"Hey! You made it!" A cheerful voice said, and Neville turned and raised his hand in greeting as Jacobs and Tonks stepped out from a row on the other side of the greenhouse. "Welcome to Freedom Farm!"

Neville groaned. "I can't believe you let them run with that name."

"Why not? Sounds properly American, a nice homage to our resident farmer," Sirius said with a grin. "Some of us are capable of appreciating irony."

"So this is what you've been doing? Setting up a farm? I thought you were helping Mrs. Tonks with the dragon pox treatment!"

"Spell crafting isn't my bag, and young Longbottom here is a school dropout. We're hardly qualified for that sort of thing."

Neville chuckled at that. "Better a dropout than an ex-convict." He looked around, taking in the massive greenhouse. "Our people aren't just sick, they're hungry and we're planning to feed them."

Astoria stood on her tip-toes, looking closely at the fresh earth inside the trough. "What are you planting? And you never told me where we are."

"Oats and wheat, mostly," Jacobs answered. "Nymphadora's been working with her father on constructing a smaller, secondary greenhouse that we'll use for vegetables."

Tonks nodded, holding hands with the American. "As for the where, you're standing on what used to be the manor of the illustrious Selwyn family. At least, until-"

"-Until they were killed by the Butcher of Britain," Sirius swiftly interrupted. "As there aren't any Selwyns left in Britain, we decided to put the land to good use."

"He must've been a real bigshot, to have an estate this size. Barely even needed to bring in any soil, the land is pristine."

"Probably treated it with dragon dung to make sure his lawn impressed any visitors. He was the leader of one of our largest political parties when he died."

"Hold on, you're going to feed people oats?"

Neville nodded. "Cereals are cheap and productive, and easy to acquire from muggle sources. It's not like we can import seeds, after all."

"With our first harvest, we'll produce enough flour to bake almost eight thousand loaves of bread. That'll fill a lot of stomachs," Jacobs said.

"But why? Why go through all of this effort? I mean," she hurried to clarify, "Not that I think we shouldn't help people, it's just…"

"A lot of those going hungry don't have any other options. At first, they took from the muggles, but the ICW brought in reinforcements, new wizards. They classify practically any interaction outside the magical world as a violation of the Statute, and respond with violent force." Neville reached into one of the planting troughs, squeezing a handful of soil. "In Knockturn, they're desperate. It's like a cauldron boiling over - if we don't do something, it will explode."

"How are you even going to manage all of this? There's no way Wally and Tonks can do it by themselves," she said. "How big is this place, anyway?"

"With the space expansion charms, it's a full hectare," Jacobs said. "If my pops could see me now! All that education, and I end up a farmer just like him!"

"As you might have guessed, our American friend here is going to be in charge. Lee Jordan volunteered now that he's up and about with his new prosthetic leg. Hagrid will be coming next week, after the students' Hogsmeade weekend. Along with Tonks, they'll be here full-time, but everyone else will be dropping by to help out when we're able."

Tori nodded along with his words. She gave one more glance around the enormous structure, then turned back to him. "It's really neat. Can we go now, though? It smells in here."

"About that…"

"What? What is it?"

"We, uh, that is, Sirius and I, we were hoping you'd be willing to work here as well. Professor McGonagall would still come and give you lessons."

Neville could see the obvious distaste written all over Tori's face. Her nose wrinkled, and she eyed the planting troughs again, this time likely imagining how much work it would take to care for all of them. Still, she eventually nodded with a determined look on her face.

"When do I start?"

"Right now, kiddo. C'mon, I'll take you to where we're camping out and get you some work robes." Tonks took hold of the youngest Greengrass' arm and disapparated, followed shortly after by Jacobs.

Sirius made to lean against one of the troughs, but after an evaluating glance thought better. "I'm surprised she went for it."

"Then you underestimate her. She's tough; I don't know many people that could have endured what Astoria has. She's as kind and noble as they come; I never doubted for a second she'd agree to help." Wiping his hands off on his trousers, he thought over the conversation they just finished. "You cut off Tonks before she could implicate Harry in the Selwyns' deaths. Why?"

"Tori looks up to Harry, she cares about him."

"You mean- she doesn't know? But… how?" Neville assumed it was common knowledge Harry was responsible for purging the families that supported the Dark Lord. "Why haven't you told her the truth?"

"Daphne told me she hid it from her last year, while Astoria was at Hogwarts. Sure, there's a lot of innuendo around my godson's actions, but as many people see him as a hero as those that view him as a villain. And remember how the Ministry paraded him around?" Sirius frowned. "She wants to believe in Harry. It seems cruel to take that away."

He didn't know how to respond to that. He must have looked troubled, because Sirius asked, "You think I shouldn't have kept up the lie?"

"Yes. I mean, no. If her sister says it's for the best, it's not my place to question it." After a moment, he added, "I think sometimes, having something to believe in can be more important than knowing the truth."

Neville ignored the odd look Sirius shot him after that. "Are you ready to go? We're meeting with Cedric soon."

"I'll be along in a moment."

Sirius vanished with a crack, and Neville took one more lengthy look around the greenhouse, thinking over what he'd just told his companion. Astoria was his friend; maybe even his closest friend, what with Harry on the run, Luna vanishing into thin air, and Susan dead.

His other friends at Hogwarts were- they couldn't relate to the things he'd been through. It was sad, in a way, that Harry was gone now that Neville finally understood. Harry must have felt so alone, so out of place around people his own age. He wished Harry were here. Neville missed him more now than ever.

Who was he to judge Daphne or Sirius, after all, when his lies to Astoria were far less selfless than theirs? When he lied not to protect her, but to use her?

He didn't linger any longer, deciding it was better to focus on something else. When he arrived at the cottage, McGonagall and Cedric were already talking with Sirius.

"Longbottom," McGonagall greeted. "Mr. Diggory was just telling us that the other group is gearing up for something. Something big."

"That's in line with what we expected. It's been too quiet. Ced, any idea on the timeline they're working with?"

"No clue. My dad keeps telling me I need to join up with them before he can tell me anything more."

"Is that a possibility? Getting someone inside their operation would do us a lot of good," Sirius said. "At minimum, knowing their end goals aren't something nefarious might give us an opening to open up talks with Riddle."

"I don't know…"

"You're already our spy in the Ministry," Neville told him. "I don't think the situation is desperate enough to warrant risking adding another cover."

"Thanks, Nev."

"We appreciate how hard it is to fish for answers from your father. The last thing I want is for you to think we're pushing you to work against your family." Neville held out his hand, shaking Cedric's. "We'll be in touch the usual way. Thank you for the heads up."

With a nod of farewell, the Minister's assistant disapparated. "I trust things at the Selwyn estate are running smoothly?"

"Tonks says they've already started seeding the planters. Jacobs claims his father regularly shortened the time it took for crops to mature. It looks like our biggest problem is going to be finding labor to work the farm."

"I'll speak with Mr. Fletcher about rounding up some trustworthy individuals that can help. So if this American isn't just trying to impress Nymphadora, when will the first harvest be ready?"

"Just after the spring solstice."

McGonagall's eyebrows practically reached her hairline. "That soon?"

Neville shrugged. "It's what he said. I don't have any reason not to take him at his word."

"And you're sure you want to go through with this?" Sirius asked.

"We have to do something! If things continue at the pace they are, we may as well roll out a welcome mat for Riddle in the Minister's office when this occupation ends." Sirius grimaced at his reply. "Look, as much as I'd like to hand out what we grow to the people that need it, we've got to increase our own influence if we're going to have any effect."

"So Riddle trades loyalty for potions, and we do the same for food?"

"Civil wars leave nothing but graves. If this is what it takes to prevent us trading one oppressor from another…" Neville trailed off, not wanting to - and not knowing how - to finish that sentence.

The cottage fell silent, until Sirius let out a heavy sigh. "I need a drink."


Tom sipped his tea, watching the villagers scurrying around, preparing for the first student weekend in more than six months. Madam Puddifoot's was fully decked out, the proprietress even going so far as to rent out a house elf in anticipation of the crowds.

It was obvious how much this weekend meant to the people of Hogsmeade. Given everything happening Britain right now, even he felt a sliver of guilt that the student visit wouldn't bring the respite the villagers hoped for.

Still, after today, he would be in a position to provide for them.

Movement outside caught his eye; the first carriages from the castle had arrived. Leaving a few Sickles on the counter, he set his teacup down and made his way to the exit, stepping past Madam Puddifoot who was looking out the window with a devastated expression. Understandable, given that barely more than a dozen students had come.

The occupation was out in force today. Tom walked fearlessly past a group of four men wearing red robes with light brown accents, their black skin a stark contrast to most of the villagers. These men, the Sahelian war-wizards, weren't like the others - the Americans were young conscripts, barely a police force; the French were professional aurors, but still law enforcement, and their stay was short-lived.

The Africans, though… these were fighters. The soul shard within Ravenclaw's Diadem had traveled to the Sahel; it was a harsh region, a borderland between the Sahara desert and the savannahs to the south, where wizards had established themselves in the inhospitable terrain. There, they eked out an existence full of violence and battle against a muggle population that still very much believed in and hated witchcraft.

Tom could feel their gaze, evaluating him as he strolled past. He wasn't afraid of them; in fact, he found himself excited at the prospect of a challenge. After absorbing his other soul shard, he doubted there was anyone in the British Isles left that could stand against him.

Lost in his thoughts, he continued towards the dirt road that led to Hogwarts, paying no mind to the massive half-giant staring at him open-mouthed, all the blood draining from his face.


Nick Foster knew this day would come.

When he'd learned on his eleventh birthday that he was a wizard and magic was real, he imagined all the ways his life would change, all the things he'd do. Neither a dedicated student nor a magical powerhouse, Nick's fantasies about magical life didn't come to fruition, and certainly never included living in Knockturn Alley, working as a short-order cook at the local tavern.

Being a muggleborn in Magical Britain wasn't easy, and it wasn't pleasant. More than once, he'd entertained thoughts of returning to muggle life, 'resetting the clock' and starting over. But then he'd met Sandy, a witch so wonderful she made even the most tedious existence seem blissful, and he decided being a wizard was worth it, even with all the crap he had to take.

"Foster, it's time to go." The young man with the brutish face was a stranger to him, but in some ways Nick had been waiting for him to show up for months. "We're on a schedule."

"Nicky?"

"I've got to go. I have a, uh, a meeting with this gentleman," he told his wife, giving her a kiss then calling for his daughter to embrace her.

"Hurry up," the man said impatiently.

"I love you both, so much."

"Who is that? What's going on?"

"I've got to go," he repeated, turning away so she couldn't see his eyes welling up. The door to their rundown tenement clicked shut behind him.

Gold was hard to come by, him being a cook and Sandy working for Owl Express, feeding and caring for their birds. Knockturn was no place to raise a child, but they filled their home with love, providing for their daughter and keeping their heads down as best they could.

When the war began, he thought once more about leaving magic behind and returning to his roots. But Sandy was a half-blood, raised completely in the Wizarding World like their daughter Andrea. A man - whose paper trail in the muggle world ended at eleven years old - reappearing with a wife and daughter who themselves had no records of existing was asking for trouble from muggle authorities. He may as well send up a red flag for the Ministry obliviators to follow.

The Boy-Who-Lived killing You-Know-Who a second time didn't bring much relief outside of the existential sort. Soon enough, the occupation began, and then the shortages. First, it was potions, but it wasn't long before the price of everything began to skyrocket. For a bit, Nick would sneak food home from work, but then came the dragon pox, and the White Wyvern closed.

Their meager income was suddenly cut in half, just as inflation was rising to extortionary levels. Nick had joined some of the other tenants that lived in their building, his knowledge of muggle society an asset in robbing non-magical markets and grocers. When the Americans caught them, he spent a month in lockup; he came out with dragon pox.

In their one bedroom tenement, there was no way to keep from infecting Sandy and Andrea. He was desperate; maybe if it was only him that was sick, he might have just left, gone off and waited for death behind the brothel or somewhere else. But his baby girl… seven years old, wasting away from a disease he'd given her.

There were rumors, whispers spreading through Knockturn like wildfire. Treatments for the pox, handed over free; but only to those willing to sign up to fight the Americans.

What choice did he have?

"What am I to do?"

The young man's robes likely cost more than Sandy made in a year. "Just relax. All we need is for you to distract the patrol."

"How am I supposed to do that?"

"What I need you to do is levitate this cauldron. You'll spill the potion in front of them, that'll get their attention."

"That's it? That's all I have to do?" It still sounded dangerous. The Americans patrolled Knockturn every few days, never in groups of less than fifteen. They typically cast first and asked questions later.

When Nick and his family got their potions, he tried to forget the rest. At first, they didn't ask anything of him, and life fell back into the same exhausting nightmare of hunger and desperation. The elderly couple that lived in the flat next door begged him to help them steal more food from muggle shops. He refused, afraid of being exposed to dragon pox again if they were caught.

The couple never came back. The aurors killed them.

"I'm going to cast a spell, one that will allow me to coordinate with you, to make sure your distraction happens at precisely the right time."

"I- I don't want to do this. Please-"

"You agreed to this, Foster. We helped you when you needed us, didn't we?"

"Yes, but-"

"We held up our end of the bargain. Now you will hold up yours."

He knew this day would come, but such knowledge didn't make it any easier now that it was here. "What about my family? Will you- will the resistance take care of them? We've been so hungry…"

"Everything will be fine. I'm going to cast the spell now, just relax, all right? Take a deep breath, and let it out. Over here, now. Ready?"

Nick nodded, and the man raised his wand. "Imperio."


Clarence Warrington shook his head in disgust at how little fight the gaunt, impoverished man had in him. 'Pathetic' he thought in disgust, hardly a man at all, pleading and begging for more when he'd done nothing for the cause. As though they'd spend gold to keep a mudblood's spawn alive!

He checked the time. The patrol would make the turn into Knockturn in three minutes; they'd pass the alley he was in about ninety seconds after that. He loosened the fastenings on the reactant, very carefully. Removing the preservation charm saw the half-formed potion start to bubble, and Clarence stepped back.

At his mental command, the mudblood levitated the cauldron, floating it at eye-level in front of him. Clarence disillusioned it, and then waited while the man set off, walking stiffly down the street just as the Americans made the turn into Knockturn.

He waited anxiously, eyes locked on the impending confrontation. The aurors called out commands, but Foster continued walking, slowly plodding along directly towards them. The Americans raised their wands when he was a dozen paces away, but still Clarence delayed, waiting until his thrall was eight paces away to cast his Finite.

The Dispelling Charm struck the cauldron, which crashed to the ground. The flask of basilisk venom fastened to the rim fell into half-formed potion, detonating the cheap iron cauldron. The mudblood and the aurors in the front of the formation took the worst of it; the shrapnel left injuries, but the basilisk venom was the true danger, dissolving the mudblood and eating away at the four Americans in front and two more in the second row, all six falling to the ground screaming.

Before the venom had finished eating through their flesh, spellfire from the second floor of the Borgin and Burke's downed another three aurors. The Americans began to retreat, and more curses began to fire from all directions.

Hefting his wand, Clarence stepped over the unrecognizable remains of Nick Foster and added his own spells to the conflagration.


"Out t'er the way! I need to speak w' Minerva!"

"Easy there, big fella, she's not here. What's going on? What happened?"

The half-giant was hysterical, eyes wide and terrified. "It's him! 'e's back, and at Hogwarts! Ye have'ta save the kids!"

Sirius glanced at Neville, some of Hagrid's fear spilling over to him. "Who's back? What's happening at Hogwarts?"

"You-Know-Who! But- he's different, like he was before- no, I mean back when we was younger-"

"Wait, you're saying Voldemort is at Hogwarts? He's dead!"

"I know that, but he's- it's like when he was in school! He was evil, even back then, he was!"

Neville shook his head in disbelief. "Hold on, are you saying you went to school with Voldemort? He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"

"Aye, but he din't call himself that til later. Back then, 'e was just Tom Riddle."

Sirius met Neville's eyes, seeing in them the same horror he felt etched on his own face.


"But I wanted to go to Tomes and Scrolls!"

Ron struggled to keep his voice even. "Listen, you can go some other time, just not today. No one's going to Hogsmeade."

She'd recovered from her injuries, but Hermione had changed after she was attacked. She clung to her roommates and Ron, a mere shadow of the outspoken overachiever she used to be. "There hasn't been a Hogsmeade visit in forever, though! What if this is our only chance?"

"Hermione! You're not going, understand?"

She recoiled at his raised voice, but before he could apologize someone whispered his name.

"Weasley! Psst! Weasley, over here!"

Ron looked over, gesturing for Parvati and Lavender to continue with Hermione to the Great Hall without him. "Montague. You ready to tell me what's going on?"

"Did you do as I asked?"

"All of our people stayed in the castle. We were on our way to lunch."

Montague cast a furtive look around. "Stay alert. Make sure everyone you've recruited is on their toes."

"What's going on?" But Montague ducked away, slipping through one of the secret passages that Ron had shown him earlier that year.

It was unusual. Normally, it was the other way around, Ron warning Montague about upcoming pranks or hijinks against the American faculty. Their alliance, though uneasy at first, had borne fruit. The vast majority of the older students had signed on with the resistance.

In a surprising reversal of their attitudes when they'd first begun working together, it was Montague that had to convince Ron not to judge all the muggleborns for the assault on Hermione. Graham claimed to know the identity of her attackers, but had refused to share their names with Ron, saying they couldn't afford his 'Gryffindor-ish temper' ruining their plans.

As he walked into the Great Hall, quickly locating the empty seat between his girlfriend and Hermione, Ron decided that was probably the right decision. Even the thought of what they did to her still sent him into a rage. In many ways, that attack stripped Hermione of her identity; despised by the muggleborns, still not accepted by the purebloods, and bereft of any family outside of her Housemates, what had happened to her was the perfect example of how the occupation would inevitably turn them all against each other.

Pulling two sandwiches off a tray, he held out his plate for Parvati to ladle some chips for him. What did Montague mean by 'stay alert'? He put down his sandwich after one bite; something about this felt serious. The timing with the Hogsmeade weekend, Montague's prior warnings to keep all their allies in the castle, their exchange just now in the corridor - his stomach twisted into knots.

Montague entered, conversing with Terry Boot before taking a seat at the surprisingly empty Slytherin table. Terry, though, went to the Hufflepuff table, leaning past Ernie Macmillan to fill his plate. Judging by the way Ernie's shoulders stiffened, they got the same message he did.

Ron picked up his spoon and tapped it against the half-full pitcher of pumpkin juice. Three clear taps, then one, then three more. Conversation at the Gryffindor table slowly stilled as his signal went out, and a number of his Housemates cast surreptitious glances in his direction.

"Ron?"

"It's okay, Parvati."

Lunch continued. The Headmaster arrived walking through the massive doors alongside the DADA professor, the two of them sharing what seemed like a casual conversation. Reilly came to a halt, pausing as he took in just how full the Great Hall was, how few students went to Hogsmeade.

Ron spun around, seeking out Montague only to find him staring intently at someone further down the Gryffindor table. Confused, Ron also looked in that direction but saw only a group of Fifth Years.

The Headmaster, recovered from his surprise, had nearly reached the faculty table, when Glynn Dillon, a Fifth Year muggleborn in Gryffindor, rose from his seat, drew his wand and screamed "AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Ron instinctively pushed Parvati under the table, grabbing Hermione's arm and jerking her down after her. The green flash impacted the Headmaster and- and it did nothing. Dillon remained standing, his wand still pointed forward, unmoving until Reilly's Gouging Curse carved a trench into him, leaving a bloody furrow in the Welsh student's chest.

The shock of it froze everyone in the Great Hall, but then Montague jumped on top of the Slytherin table and sent his own Killing Curse rocketing towards Reilly, and this one dropped the Headmaster like a stone, his corpse not even hitting the floor before a hail of jinxes and charms shot toward the faculty table from the rest of the students.

The only holdovers from before the occupation present at lunch, Flitwick and Babbling, dove to the floor and took cover, but the Americans shielded themselves as best they could, returning fire when able. It was over quickly, with the adults reluctant to fire deadly curses at children, and the sheer number of wands on the students' side overwhelming the teachers.

"Stop! Stop!" Flitwick's squeaky voice rang out as the spellfire died down. "Someone get Madam Pomfrey! Hurry!"

Ron tucked his wand into his sleeve before helping Parvati and Hermione out from under the table. Hermione hurried to where Flitwick was, quickly kneeling next to him. "It's Professor Babbling!" she cried. "She's hurt!"

He slowly looked from the Ancient Runes professor, who had a shard of wood the size of Ron's forearm sticking out of her neck, to Dillon, who'd started all of the insanity, dead on the floor surrounded by a pool of blood. He shook himself out of his daze, looking around at the other stunned students, many screaming and crying in fear.

"Everybody quiet down!" Ron shouted. "If you or someone near you is hurt, help them over to the Hufflepuff table and wait for Madam Pomfrey!"

He squeezed Parvati's hand, then hurried over to Terry and Ernie, instructing them to take care of things here, before running out of the Great Hall. He needn't have hurried, it turned out, as Montague was standing right outside the entrance, conversing with Crabbe and Goyle, both of whom were huffing and puffing, sweating profusely.

Neither of them were in the Great Hall for lunch, Ron realized. "What the hell, Graham? What was that?!"

With a slap on Goyle's back, the two hulking Sixth Years walked into the Great Hall. Montague turned to face Ron. "I told you to stay alert."

"You can't pretend you weren't behind that. What did you do to Dillon?"

"I used the Imperius Curse on him. Can't say I'm all that surprised his Killing Curse failed, but he died for the cause. He'll be remembered as a hero."

Ron grabbed his robes around the collar, jerking him until they were nose-to-nose. "The Imp- you son of a bitch! He was fifteen years old!"

Montague's irritation was clear in his response. "He was the one who planned the attack on your muggleborn friend. Weren't you looking for revenge? You should be thanking me, Weasley!"

"Dillon? He- he was the one that hurt Hermione?"

Grabbing Ron's wrists, Montague jerked out of his grasp. "Yea, he was. Look, I know you're shocked, but this was the best option we had. Think about it - if you went after him, I would have needed some other distraction to get the jump on the Headmaster, and Dillon and the rest of the muggleborns would still be seen as collaborators. This way, you showed them what happens when they mess with what's yours, and the muggleborn are seen by the rest of the students as fearless heroes striking a blow for liberation!"

"What are you saying? Who thinks like that?!"

"Someone with a vision for the future. This isn't over, Weasley - we've got the school, but the Ministry and the Americans will respond. What happened here was just one part of the plan."

"Your plan! Not mine! I thought we were working together, but you set me up," Ron spat, disturbed at the suddenly unhinged expression Montague wore.

"No, you're wrong. I could never have done this without you. No one would have wanted to work with me if you hadn't been willing to meet me halfway. I mean it, you're a big part of our success, and it won't go unnoticed."

'Merlin, is he going to hug me?' "Noticed by who? What're you going on about?"

"My- our leader. He's the reason we got a Hogsmeade weekend, after all this time. He's the reason the attack happened today."

Ron didn't get it. "What did Hogsmeade have to do with this? Barely any students even went!"

"It wasn't about students coming or going. Well, part of it was making sure we had the numbers we needed to take out the teachers. But there's another, very important thing that happens on Hogsmeade weekends."

Ron tried to think of what he was referring to. "What?"

"The gates are kept open."

Footsteps echoed through the empty corridor, boots lightly tapping on the stone floors. A man approached, one that looked younger than several of Ron's older brothers. He was dressed in an acromantula silk cloak, beneath which he wore fine clothing in the style of the wealthiest pureblood elite.

"Who're you?"

Montague bowed deeply, but the man quickly tapped the Slytherin's elbow, pumping his hand energetically when he stood straight. "It's good to see you, Graham. Is this one of our compatriots?"

"He is. Ron Weasley, the leader of the Gryffindor contingent of the students loyal to you. He's been a reliable and loyal ally."

"Well met, Mr. Weasley," the man said, a genuine smile on his face. "Has the castle been secured?"

"All the Americans except the Muggle Studies professor have been neutralized, my- sir."

"Then follow me, men, for today we are conquerors!"

Montague wrapped an arm around him and triumphantly guided Ron back into the Great Hall, where chaos still ensued. The man walked past the clusters of students, carefully stepped around the dead Gryffindor, and walked past the Headmaster's body, eventually coming to a halt before the faculty table.

"Brothers and sisters, I know you must be worried about the repercussions of your bravery today, and I came as quickly as I could to reassure you that you have nothing to worry about. You will be protected from the foreigners, I promise."

"How can you guarantee that?" A Ravenclaw witch yelled. "They're going to kill us!"

"Because I've been leading the resistance against them since they arrived. I'm Tom, Tom Riddle, and my men and I will be taking over Hogwarts to make sure nothing happens to you. There's nothing to worry about," he said with an air of absolute confidence, "you're safe with me."

A/N: Stay safe, healthy, and happy! ~Frickles