Once more, my beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. Their help is invaluable.

Chapter 15: The Albanian Connection

Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, July 28th, 2005

Hermione shook her head. "I'm sorry," she said, standing up. "That brought up memories of my own little war. I think I'll retire for the evening."

"Oh, dear me, I wasn't thinking!" Dumbledore looked appalled at his thoughtlessness. "Please accept my apology for bringing up bad memories."

"Apology accepted."

Ron didn't know which of them was lying more right now. But he knew what he had to do. He stood, nodding at the others, then followed Hermione.

The spymaster wasn't the sort of man to make such a mistake. So his comment had to have been deliberate. But had he merely wanted to find out what would make Hermione crack or had this been an attempt at getting a specific reaction out of her? Probably both, given the man's past.

Hermione glanced over her shoulder at him as he caught up to her. "That was rather thoughtless of Mr Dumbledore," he said, walking at her side.

"Yes, indeed," she replied. Her tone told him that she didn't believe it had been a mistake, either. "Perhaps he was distracted by Mr Black and Ginny's presence."

A punishment for bringing more people with them? No. Ron shook his head. "I don't think so. He was probably simply lost in your tales."

She frowned at him, then shook her head in turn. "He isn't getting any younger."

Ron shrugged. He didn't think that this was an attempt by Dumbledore to pressure her into working faster. The old man would know such research couldn't really be rushed. Although he would have to feel his age constantly - especially after hearing about the latest attack on Hermione. He sighed. He couldn't get a handle on Dumbledore.

Hermione flashed him a rueful smile. "He's quite the enigma, isn't he?"

So she was none the wiser, either. Ron nodded as they entered the lift.

Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, July 29th, 2005

Had Hermione had another nightmare? Ron couldn't tell. She didn't look well-rested as she prepared for their morning run, but none of them did. Even Ginny looked a little tired, but that was probably due to her sharing a room with Harry.

Of course, if Ron's dream had been real, he'd look even worse. And so would… he buried the thought. He couldn't really compete with a magical Ron. A Ron who had practically grown up with her. But it didn't seem that his subconscious understood that.

She was pretty, but certainly not a supermodel. She was also fairly fit, though she didn't have the curves of a lingerie model. And her hair was usually a mess, barely tamed by the double-strength scrunchies that kept it in a ponytail. She hardly wore makeup - and with Ginny now around, that was even more apparent.

But she had something…

He grit his teeth and focused on stretching and warming up, instead of on her doing the same.

A few minutes later, they were running. So close to the building, there weren't many different routes, so they had to assume the area was bugged, and thus couldn't talk. But Ron didn't mind the silence. Nor the cool morning air. Nor even Ginny pulling ahead again. Though he grinned when she had to backtrack because Harry decided to pick a new route. Teach her to try and do the work of professionals.

A few minutes later, she, Harry and Ron were circling the other three again. It was quite the challenge, actually. Since they were inside the forest, the only paths were trails - and animals didn't walk two or three abreast.

About ten minutes in, Harry called for a break. Hermione had held up a little better, or so it seemed. Or perhaps she had pushed herself a little more with Ginny present. Without planning to, Ron found himself using the same tree as she did to stretch.

She glanced at him, frowning slightly. "Am I doing it wrong again?"

He had been staring! He shook his head. "No, no." He nodded towards her backpack, which contained her beaded bag of holding. "I was just wondering if Dumbledore might suspect that we're hiding weapons somehow, since we didn't take any SMGs or rifles into our rooms."

She pursed her lips. "Didn't we leave two rifles in the car?"

"Yes, we did. But wouldn't he have expected us to do that as a distraction?" Ron tilted his head as he changed positions and started to stretch his arms.

"I think you might be overthinking this," she replied.

"Maybe." He pressed his lips together for a moment. "But we can't underestimate him."

"Our interests align," she said. "He won't do anything to sabotage my research, and he must have realised that harming my friends would negatively affect my work."

Friends. He liked hearing that. But… "He might prefer more control over you. Which he would achieve if you were isolated."

She scowled. "Then he doesn't know me as well as he thinks he does."

She was right, of course - but that wouldn't help anyone if Dumbledore were wrong.

Ron really hated these spy mind games.

Ginny approached Ron at the second break. She was trying to be subtle about it, doing stretching exercises as she came closer, but, well... she hadn't been trained in tailing people and spotting tails. So he made a point of looking at her right before she was about to speak and enjoyed seeing her pout.

Only for a moment, of course, then she ploughed on and smiled at him, though she showed a bit too many teeth for it to be called sweet. "So… what's between you and Hermione?"

He managed to keep from spitting 'none of your business' at her. "It's 'Hermione' now, is it?"

She shrugged. "It would have been weird if I called her 'Dr Granger' while Luna called her 'Hermione'."

So simple, he thought with some envy.

"But don't change the subject," she went on, frowning at him once more. "What's up with you and her?"

"Nothing." He glanced over his shoulder. Luna was talking to Hermione at the other end of the small clearing. So this had been planned.

She actually rolled her eyes at his answer. "Sure. That's why you follow her around like a puppy."

What? "I'm her bodyguard."

"So's Harry, and he doesn't do that."

He was about to tell her that they had split the tasks but sighed instead. For all the years since they had moved out from their parents' home, she still knew him too well. "It's complicated."

"Really?" She changed her stance and did some squats. Show-off. "Because she was in a relationship with your counterpart?"

"She told you that?" he blurted out, then drew a sharp breath and checked over his shoulder again.

"She didn't have to. Just looking at her as she told us about her best friends was enough. Who, I'll have you know, also included my counterpart."

He shook his head. That was so like Ginny - she'd always hated being left out of whatever her brothers did, no matter how young she had been. Well, so had Ron, actually. He shrugged. "As I said, it's complicated." He couldn't compete with a better version of himself, could he?

She scoffed. "She's been here for seven years. If she hasn't moved on, he surely will have."

"You don't know him."

"I know you," she replied with a smirk.

"Hey!" He glared at her. "I'm not him."

"Well, close enough, from what I can tell."

What? He blinked.

She sighed. "I asked Hermione about your counterpart. She told me about him."

"Me too. And we're very different."

"Not really. You're into sci-fi and fantasy, he's a fan of a wizard sport. And he can do magic."

"Yes." Huge differences.

"So, practically the same." She grinned.

"Even if that were true" - and it wasn't - "that doesn't mean you're right."

"So, you're not attracted to her?"

"She's pining for her Ron."

"We'll see about that."

She pushed off the tree before he could react, and then she was too far away for him to call out to her without Hermione overhearing everything.

Damn. He had known letting Ginny come with them would cause trouble.

Two hours later, Ron was guarding Hermione. Or rather, watching her work at her desk. Unfortunately, he couldn't keep staring at her. And she wasn't even running any experiments at the moment - she was just doing calculations and taking notes. He could really use a good book right now. Or a portable DVD player and a few movies. Bodyguarding someone in an isolated, secure room was boring. Very boring.

He sighed.

"You don't have to be here, you know."

He looked at her. "I actually have to. Regulations."

"What?"

He chuckled to show he had been joking and saw her purse her lips, then smile. "Seriously, I'm safe here. You personally checked all possible avenues of entry, didn't you?"

She was quoting him. He shrugged. "You can never be sure. And it doesn't really matter whether I'm waiting here or in my room." He sighed again. "If only we hadn't been attacked until after our visit to the bookshop."

She laughed at that. "I'd prefer it if we hadn't been attacked at all. The news is going crazy." She shook her head. "I think I've been kidnapped by every terrorist group in existence, according to the tabloids."

He nodded. At least they got the latest newspapers - although usually at noon. "The excitement should die down once news of us having gone to ground again spreads."

"No more kidnapping rumours would be nice. Not as nice as stopping whoever is behind this, though."

He shrugged. "Everyone's working on that. Sooner or later, there should be results."

She didn't look as if she expected anything.

If Ron was honest, neither did he.

"The quality of the food alone would be sufficient reason to stay here," Sirius announced as he finished the main course in the lounge of their quarters. "Say what you want about Mr Dumbledore, but he knows how to pick his cooks."

Harry snorted. "Says the man who could live on takeaway food for months. Did so, in fact."

"And that's exactly why I can appreciate a good meal," the older man shot back. "Or an excellent meal, like this one." He raised his fork, with which he had speared the last piece of his veal cordon bleu.

Ron slightly shook his head at Sirius's antics. At least, Ginny and, of course, Luna, seemed amused. And, as he saw with a glance, even Hermione was smiling. Although that would change as soon as Sirius mentioned his plans for flying tanks. Plural.

Ron still couldn't tell how serious Sirius actually was - Harry's godfather joked a lot about practically everything. Well, it wasn't important right now. There were more interesting things to ponder.

Such as the question of why Hermione had changed into a dress for dinner, even though they were just eating in their quarters. Usually, she'd simply drop off her lab coat before joining them. Today, though, she had spent an hour with Ginny and Luna in her room. Had his sister persuaded her to dress up? And how? Ginny was stubborn, but Hermione had her beat in that area. Perhaps Luna and Ginny had teamed up on her…

His musings were interrupted when the door opened, and two staff members entered with dessert - followed by Dumbledore.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Would you mind me joining you for dessert?" He raised a slim folder. "I bring important news."

"Not at all, please have a seat," Harry said.

Ron nodded. Important news? That sounded intriguing, especially coming from the old man. Not to mention that telling your host that you did mind would have been rude and stupid, anyway.

"Important news?" Luna beamed at Dumbledore. Of course she would, what with getting dessert and possibly secret information at the same time.

"Indeed. MI5 has identified most of the men you killed in the line of duty," Dumbledore announced as he opened the folder and spread files out on the table while dessert was being served.

Ron ignored the slight sting he felt at hearing that MI5 had done this, not CI5. Besides, the documents looked like MI5 files, which Dumbledore couldn't have gotten legally. He skimmed them. "Quite the variety," he commented. "Americans, Russians, French, a German…"

"Oh, yes." Dumbledore smiled. "Someone took care to muddy the waters, so to speak. The police would have some difficulty pinpointing the origin of this operation." He shook his head. "However, they didn't anticipate my own resources."

Ron wondered, privately, if Dumbledore was talking about his employees - or about MI6. Out loud, he asked: "What did you find out?"

"We've identified one of the men killed in the most recent attack as Avni Berisha - the younger cousin of Burim Berisha, who controls most of the drug and other contraband routes through Kosovo." Dumbledore looked at Hermione and handed her a picture.

She shook her head, answering his unspoken question. "I've never seen or heard of that person."

"Why would a drug lord want to kidnap Hermione?" Ron asked. Of course, her beaded bag of holding would make smuggling easy - but it wasn't worth angering the United Kingdom over. The SAS might not, any more, pull off the kind of operations they did during the Troubles - if you trusted certain rumours - but murdering police officers and trying to turn London into a war zone could very well merit the kind of visit that rendered both extradition treaties and trials obsolete.

"I don't think that he is behind this," Dumbledore replied as he started on a bowl of chocolate pudding, "although I could be mistaken. However, I think it's more likely that someone used him to hire deniable assets."

"Mercenaries," Harry said. "Thugs."

"Scum," Sirius added with a sneer.

"I wouldn't argue that those particular men were upstanding representatives of their craft," Dumbledore told them with his usual smile. "But in my opinion, the key question isn't the hired help's moral fibre or lack thereof, but whether or not Berisha was aware that his cousin was deemed expendable. Blood feuds have been started for less."

"You think that he'll sell out his contact," Ron said.

The old man inclined his head. "I think that isn't too far-fetched. Alternatively - if he wasn't involved in the hiring - he might provide us with information that will lead us to Dr Granger's mysterious enemy."

"You want us to find out," Harry stated.

"Actually, since blood feuds are a local tradition in the area, I don't think the same people who actually killed his cousin should meet with Berisha," Dumbledore replied. "Although in light of the truth behind Dr Granger's work, I cannot trust my usual assets to stay loyal if given such a mission."

So he was afraid that an ex-spy might suddenly decide to inform their old employer, instead of a private businessman. And that those in his employ without any loyalty to a country might sell out to the highest bidder.

"You have proved to be quite adept at disguising yourself, though," Dumbledore went on.

"And we already know the truth about Hermione's research," Ron pointed out. "Unlike most of your employees and assets."

"Quite," Dumbledore confirmed with a thin smile. "Even the fact that we're involved in Dr Granger's affairs is being kept secret from everyone, save for a select few of my men."

The Phoenix Gruppe's spies and other 'assets' would draw their own conclusions from that information, Ron knew. And some might reevaluate their loyalties.

"So you need us to get the information so it's kept as compartmentalised as possible," Harry said. He looked at Ron. "I think we should do it."

And they would finally be able to do something about the attacks instead of waiting for the next attempt to kidnap Hermione. "Yes," Ron agreed.

Then Hermione spoke up: "I'm coming with you."

"No, you aren't!" Ron blurted out. "This is police work," he added, meeting her eyes as she glared at him.

"No, it's not," she retorted. "It's an intelligence-gathering mission. You're not going to arrest anyone, and you won't be concerned about evidence or rights."

"It's an investigation," he told her. "We're talking to informants."

"Informants who will try to kill you if they recognise you."

"An undercover mission, then," he replied.

"You're going after a drug lord in his home base. You need me." She was still glaring at him.

"It's too dangerous for you." She wasn't a police officer or a secret agent.

"The same could be said about you," she shot back.

"But I'm not the only one who can open a portal to another dimension," he pointed out. Chasing criminals and following leads, though? That was something he could do. And he really needed to do something after being attacked so often.

"So?" She raised her head, pushing her chin out, and huffed. "If it's not safe enough for me, it's not safe enough for you." She shook her head. "You need me, just in case you get shot again, or your disguise fails."

His jaw clenched. He didn't like the reminder of his close brush with death. He didn't want to remember how he had felt, falling. Bleeding. Dying.

Dumbledore finally stepped in. "Joining such a mission would also delay your research."

"A necessary sacrifice," she told the old man. "And it's not as if we'd be away for weeks. Not that my work wouldn't be affected if I had to worry about them while they're away. Given that I'll need at least several more weeks to complete my research, even if everything goes perfectly, any delay would be of minimal consequence."

"Your presence might distract Mr Weasley and Mr Potter," Dumbledore pointed out. He nodded at Ron. "Further, you and Mr Potter are professional investigators."

And Hermione wasn't. Ron nodded.

"I think we'll be safer with her nearby," Harry said.

What? Ron glared at his friend. Safer? They would have to protect her! Without her wand, she was too vulnerable, and most of her experience on such missions would be useless. Hell, they might as well ask Dumbledore for… Ah. Of course. With Hermione present, Dumbledore wouldn't double-cross them and arrange a leak or accident. And magic could literally save lives in a pinch. Not to mention the other options Hermione's potions offered. Still… Ron pressed his lips together. "In that case, we'll need help."

Hermione looked torn between anger and triumph at that. Before she could say anything, Sirius spoke up: "I'm coming with you as well, then."

"No, you aren't," Harry told him at once. "Someone has to stay with Ginny and Luna."

"We're coming as well!" Luna said.

"No." Even Hermione was shaking her head.

"If it's safe enough for you, it's safe enough for us!" Ginny insisted.

"You'll need a computer expert. Even drug lords are going digital these days!" Luna nodded several times.

Ron glanced at Harry. He expected his friend to tell Ginny not to be an idiot, but Harry wasn't saying anything. Did he really think Ginny would be safer with them than staying here?

"The more numerous we are, the more likely someone is to see through our disguises," Hermione said.

"That's nothing money can't solve," Sirius declared. "Besides, whoever you're sending as support for us will have to deal with the same issues," he told Dumbledore.

"Undoubtedly. But, leaving aside my concerns about using them, my assets are not only trained for such missions but also used to working together," Dumbledore replied.

"And we're not," Ron agreed.

"We've worked together before," Hermione told him.

"And if we aren't present we can't help you even though you might need our help," Luna said.

"I can protect the girls so you won't have to worry about them," Sirius added.

Ron saw Hermione frown - probably at getting called a 'girl'. But Sirius was correct - he could keep them safe. And Luna's skills with computers could be useful as well. Ginny, though…

"I'm not staying here by myself while everyone else goes off!" his sister declared as if she had read his thoughts.

"I'm not joining them, either," Dumbledore said with a smile. "Although I fear I'd be poor company for a young woman."

Did the old man want all of them to go on this trip? Even if it meant Hermione would take a break from her research? What was his angle? Was this just a ploy to make them trust him? A demonstration that he wouldn't take them hostage?

Ron didn't know. But he knew that Ginny wouldn't accept being left behind, no matter how much sense it made. That was Mum and Dad's fault, for making Ron and his brothers include her all the time when she was a little girl.

And he knew that Harry wouldn't be able to make her stay behind either. If Ron's friend even wanted to. Ginny might be safer with them, anyway. A medical emergency that required Hermione's 'limited resources' to save Ginny would be an easy way to split them up, after all.

Damn. Mum would kill him for this.

Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, July 31st, 2005

As far as birthday parties went, this wasn't the weirdest Ron had ever attended. That slightly dubious honour still belonged to Luna's sixteenth birthday. Closely followed by her seventeenth and eighteenth.

But it was certainly not one of the best, either. The food was excellent, as expected, the cake nearly as good as one of Mum's, but the fact that tomorrow they'd be flying to the Balkans to meet a warlord threw a damper on the mood. As did the fact that, since the facility's staff had set up this picnic, the location was probably bugged.

At least Harry and Ginny had sorted things out between them - they were feeding each other the last slices of cake right now, the picture of a loving couple.

He took another swallow from his beer. He wasn't envious. Not really. He shook his head and watched Luna play with the RC helicopter. The thing was hovering above the lake, slowly descending. And Sirius was, apparently, giving her advice based upon his experiences in the army. Which, Ron knew, didn't include piloting.

"If she sinks it I'm not going to be the one to recover it," Hermione commented, taking a seat next to him.

"Oh?"

"Did I ever tell you how my Ron and I spent an hour in the depths of that lake, waiting to be rescued?"

"What?"

"It was for a school tournament."

He blinked. "A school tournament?"

"Yes. One that had been previously discontinued due to its dangers. Anyway, I was unconscious, but…" She shuddered. "I'd rather not dive down there if I can help it."

"Ah." He almost reached over to pat her shoulder. Or thigh. "I can understand that."

"Are you still angry about us coming with you?" she asked after a moment.

He sipped from his glass before answering. "No."

"Really?"

"I'm not angry."

"But you would prefer it if we stayed here."

Of course he would. They didn't have the training for this. Harry had taken Ginny to a shooting range a few times in the past, but that didn't mean she was trained for combat. And Luna and Hermione barely knew more than how to safely handle a gun. "I wish we had a range here."

"A shooting range?"

"Yes."

"For you or for us?" she asked.

He glanced at her; she was staring at the ruins above the facility. "Both. More training never hurts."

"You never had an accident during training?" she asked with a teasing smile.

"You know what I mean," he protested. But he was grinning.

She nodded. "I know. But we could spend weeks on the range and you'd still think it wouldn't be enough."

"Of course it wouldn't be enough!"

She laughed, and, after a moment, he joined her.

Tirana International Airport, Albania, August 1st, 2005

If Ron hadn't already been aware of how far the influence of the Phoenix Gruppe reached, their arrival in Albania would have made him realise it. They had taken a private jet - rented under a cover name, as far as he was aware - from Scotland to the capital of Albania and seen no custom checks in either location. The plane had taxied straight into a hangar, where two SUVs and two shady-looking men were waiting. No, not SUVs. Proper all-terrain vehicles. Land Rover Defenders, old - or at least old-looking.

He was first out of the plane, looking around before nodding to the men. And resisting the urge to scratch his face, which itched slightly due to his fake beard. "Good morning, gentlemen."

"Morning," one of them - the one with a moustache - replied. He was wearing a heavier jacket than was appropriate for the temperature, and it was bulging slightly. Oversized handgun or small SMG in a shoulder holster, Ron guessed. The other wore a vest that reached the top of his thighs. No bulges under the shoulders, so probably a holster in the small of his back.

Ron himself was wearing slacks and a polo shirt, with his pistol hidden in his backpack. He couldn't spot anyone else inside the hangar, so it looked safe.

"Oh, nice!" he heard Luna exclaim behind him. "Snatch Land Rovers!" Before he could say anything, she pushed past him, making a beeline for the closest vehicle. The two mercenaries looked surprised as well, and she slipped by them to crouch down in front of the car. "Nice! The upgraded ones! Although they won't help against explosives, we should be safe from small arms."

"The vehicles received additional protections, Miss," Mr Moustache told her. "They should be proof against heavier weapons as well."

"Really?" Luna frowned. "That wasn't just the usual lie to get a government contract?" She shook her head. "Well, we'll see. I hope we won't, but we've been having a sort of streak lately, you know." Without waiting for an answer that wouldn't come anyway, she crawled under the car, pulling out a small Maglite.

Ron clenched his teeth at the sight of Luna ruining her dress. He had told her that she didn't have to prove herself useful, hadn't he?

"Ah, those bring back memories! Not good memories, mind you," Sirius announced as he stepped out of the plane. "I still say we should have gone with a tourist disguise. We could have gotten luxury SUVs!"

"You just wanted a replacement car," Harry commented as he joined them. "Good morning."

"Not just a replacement car but two!" Sirius retorted with a grin. "So, you're our guides?" he addressed the mercenaries.

"Yes," Moustache said. "I'm Bajram, and he's Ad."

Local names, Ron noted. "Have you been told about our mission?"

"You want to meet with Burim Berisha," Bajram replied.

"And we want to leave again," Luna added as she reappeared behind the car. Her dress was covered in dirt, as Ron had expected. "This car looks clean. I'll do the other one now," she told them, then headed over to the second Land Rover.

"Ah, finally fresh air!"

Ron glanced over his shoulder and saw that Ginny and Hermione, both wearing black wigs and colourful dresses like Luna, had left the jet. His sister was stretching - for show, Ron assumed; the jet's accommodations had been comfortable for him, and Ginny was quite a bit smaller than Ron.

Hermione refrained from such a display and looked around as she descended the short set of mobile stairs, one hand in her beaded bag of holding. Ready for trouble.

He pressed his lips together. He still didn't like bringing the rest of their group with them, but at least Hermione had some idea how to behave in dangerous areas.

"So… four in each car. We'll have to split up," Sirius said. "For the trip to the safe house," he added.

Where they'd split up further, of course. And would finally be able - outside, at least - to talk freely. Harry, Ginny and Sirius took the first car with Bajram while Ron, Luna and Hermione followed Ad to the second.

The car looked newer inside - probably the result of the uparmouring done to the chassis. Ron wondered briefly if Phoenix Gruppe had used their car parts manufacturing subsidiaries for this, then shook his head. It didn't matter. All that mattered was being able to do this mission safely, and having a pair of armoured Land Rovers went a long way towards achieving that.

Or would, if Kosovo weren't riddled with heavier weapons left over from the war against Serbia. Perhaps Sirius had been correct in wanting a tank.

South of Prizren, Kosovo, August 1st, 2005

They reached the safe house that Dumbledore's men had prepared in the southern mountains of Kosovo as the sun was setting. It didn't look like much from the outside - just another small stone building in the mountains. Barely above a converted stone barn, if that.

But it had an actual barn that hid the Land Rovers, and it was set up in a good defensive position, as Sirius explained as they were getting out of the cars. "Give me a tank, and I'll block the entire valley from here!" he exclaimed.

"Until someone blows you up," Harry retorted. "I'm starting to wonder about your apparent fixation on tanks."

"You're only just starting to wonder?" Hermione said, shaking her head. "It seems like an obsession."

Sirius scoffed. "I'm merely practical. A few years ago, a war was fought here. Trust me, the locals will have hidden a lot of weapons in these mountains. Right under NATO's nose. And Berisha will have had his pick of the hardware."

"Whatever tank we could get wouldn't stand up to a modern RPG anyway," Ron pointed out as he peered through a gap in the door and studied the area.

"I'm certain that our friends could get us a main battle tank," Sirius shot back.

"And a tanker to keep it fueled?" Harry snorted.

"It looks safe," Ron announced.

"It is safe," Bajram said. "We know our business."

"Trust, but verify," Ron told the other man with a nod. They certainly had known how to pass a supposedly monitored border without getting stopped, much less searched. Well, that happened when the military was ordered to do police work. "But I don't like walking to the door in the open." If there was a sniper, like the one in London...

Ad chuckled. "We're too far from any good sniping spots."

"That depends on the sniper," Ron told him. "And the gun."

The other man shrugged. "If someone tracked you to this spot, it's your fault. No one followed us."

"Let's go, then," Ron said, stepping out of the barn and heading towards the door of the house. He tensed, but no one shot him. Or at him.

Harry still kept the rest back until Bajram had opened the door, then everyone hustled over.

The building looked much nicer inside than outside - and bigger, too; Ron could see a hallway leading straight into the mountain slope on which the house had been built. Not a converted barn, but a converted bunker, perhaps. Or an observation post - it did command the valley, after all.

But whatever it had been, someone had spent quite a large sum to make it liveable by furnishing it. Nothing luxurious, but the furniture was sturdy and well-designed.

Half an hour later, they had settled into the four rooms at the back of the building and then gathered at the dining table to eat dinner - Harry had thrown together a quick meal of pasta and tomato sauce. Nothing fancy, but certainly better than an MRE.

"So, when's Berisha expecting us?" Harry asked.

"Tomorrow evening," Bajram replied. "In his home. His clan controls the entire village, so don't try anything."

"We're just here to talk to him," Ron told him. "We need some information." And if Berisha were smart, there wouldn't be any trouble.

"No one here like snitches," Bajram said.

"It's not about anyone local," Harry explained. "It shouldn't be a problem."

Ad snorted, which wasn't a good sign in Ron's opinion - the man hadn't said much at all during the hours long drive up here, but when he had, it had usually been a cynical comment or a joke even Ali G might have found a little too distasteful.

They would have to scout out the place, from afar. And be ready for anything.

Going for a walk at night felt safer. It wasn't actually safer - quite the contrary. Anyone who might have managed to find them out here would have night vision gear. But if anyone had found them, they would have attacked already, and the cool air at night made a stroll too tempting to pass up after sitting in an un-air-conditioned car for hours during the day.

Somewhat unfortunately, Hermione shared his thoughts on the matter and had opted to take a stroll herself - which meant he had been obligated to escort her. Which, in turn, made the stroll far less relaxing than it could have been. More interesting, though, since they could talk without being overheard by Dumbledore and Grindelwald's minions. Or by the rest of their group, who had chosen to stay behind. That he had to use a flashlight to see the path was a drawback, though - but it was only a few days until the new moon.

"I should come with you when you go visit Berisha," she told him.

"That's too dangerous," he retorted. And there was the fact that according to all he had heard, Berisha wasn't exactly a progressive man with regards to women. Quite the opposite, actually.

"Hospitality is held in high esteem here," she replied.

He scoffed. "Such rules are quickly discarded when it suits people." You could always find an excuse or pretext to blame the other side for breaking hospitality.

"That's quite a cynical view," she said. "Such systems wouldn't have endured if people hadn't respected them sufficiently."

He shrugged and walked a little farther along the worn path. "I wouldn't bet your life on that."

"Yet you'd bet your own?"

He turned to face her when he noticed she had stopped walking. "I don't think he'll attack us. Not when he can profit from selling us intel. And I don't doubt that he's aware who's backing us." One of the biggest arms companies in Europe.

"Ah." She cocked her head. "Do you think Dumbledore would leak news of his involvement?"

"I think his men are a little more obvious than he wants us to think," Ron replied. "At least to their family." And Ron would bet that Berisha was distantly related to either Bajram or Ad.

"Do you think Dumbledore is aware of that?"

He shrugged. Who could figure out that old spymaster?

She chuckled. "This feels familiar. His counterpart was the same. Just a little less obviously manipulative."

"He was probably better at it," Ron speculated. "He had more experience, didn't he?"

"Yes." She turned her head for a moment. "Voldemort hid in this region for over a decade, or so we believe. I wonder if that's related. Though this world's Tom Riddle is dead."

And he had just reminded her of her traumatic past. He ground his teeth in frustration. "Anyway, you can do more to help us, if things do go wrong, if you're not in the middle of it."

"I can't exactly shoot you with my potions. And my Peruvian Darkness Powder needs to be dropped nearby as well."

"You could give it to us. I'm certain that I can manage to drop it," he said with a grin.

"But you don't know what its limits are."

"It cloaks the area in magical darkness for a few minutes." That wasn't exactly rocket science. "And you can't heal us if you get shot."

"I need to be close enough for that," she pointed out.

He didn't want her there. Not even near Berisha's village. And he was pretty sure that she was aware of that. And that she didn't care for it in the slightest.

Without shining his flashlight at her, possibly blinding her, he couldn't see her face. He could barely see her limbs in the flashlight's dimmed glow - it wouldn't do to announce their presence, after all. But he knew that she would be frowning at him, chin pushed forward, in that stubborn manner of hers.

He smiled against his will. "Let's go back."

"Yes."

East of Prizren, Kosovo, August 2nd, 2005

The village had seen better days, Ron thought as they entered it. A number of houses still sported battle damage - probably from the war, but Berisha might have come under attack from some of his enemies in recent years as well. But overall, the village looked like any other village in the mountains.

Which meant most men would be armed and suspicious of strangers. Ad was driving, with Bajram riding shotgun - literally - and Ron and Harry were on the back bench. Even with his pistol and half a dozen spare magazines, Ron felt undergunned.

They stopped in front of a gate in a wall that looked like it had been built by stacking rocks upon each other without mortar, and Ad switched the engine off. "We've arrived," he said as if they didn't know.

"Remember: Don't insult him. He won't, can't, stand disrespect," Bajram told them.

"We've dealt with his type before," Harry replied. It wasn't quite true - they had dealt with gangsters, but not with what amounted to a small-time warlord with a fief of his own. But deep down, crims were crims.

Ron stepped out of the car and rolled his neck as a guard approached, a Kalashnikov slung over his shoulder, and started to talk in Albanian with Bajram.

Some magical way to speak, or at least understand, a foreign language would be very useful right now, Ron thought, but Hermione hadn't had anything like that on her. Hadn't mentioned anything that could do that, either.

After about a minute, Bajram turned towards Ron and Harry. "Berisha has agreed to see you, Mr Smith."

"I thought that had been arranged beforehand," Harry muttered next to Ron.

"Might have changed his mind," Ron replied. Or it was just a demonstration of power, as petty as it appeared. Loudly, he said: "Good."

"You'll have to surrender your weapons," Bajram went on.

"They stay in the car," Ron replied before he carefully took off his shoulder holster and dropped it on the back bench, followed by Harry. They dropped their knives as well. Not that Berisha's men couldn't steal them from the car if they wanted to, but Ron wasn't about to hand his weapons over to them.

While Ad waited next to the car, the rest of them were led through the gate, then frisked in the garden. Berisha obviously wasn't taking any chances. And he might even be prepared for suicide bombers, as unlikely as such a threat might seem. Of course, the guards didn't find anything, nor did they notice the fake beards Harry and Ron were wearing, nor the dyed hair - but their necklaces drew some amusement from them.

"What are they saying?" Harry asked.

Bajram hesitated a moment, then replied: "They are making comparisons between the necklace and your size."

Ron ran a finger over the inch-long assault rifle dangling from his necklace and chuckled, which seemed to confuse the guards.

Not for long, though. They made some more comments in Albanian, then one yelled towards the house. Ron didn't understand what he said, but he saw Bajram tense.

"They called for Berisha," their guide whispered. "But he doesn't meet with people in the yard."

Oh. Their contact deviating from standard procedure wasn't a good sign. But then the door opened, and three more guards armed with assault rifles stepped out and took up positions next to it before a man in his thirties appeared. Berisha - he hadn't changed much from the pictures taken during the war.

Unlike his guards, he wore a suit. An expensive one, too, as far as Ron could tell.

He nodded at them with a smug expression. "Mr Potter. Mr Weasley. Welcome to my humble home."

Shit.

She hated waiting while her friends were risking their lives. Almost as much as she hated being helpless. She wasn't, of course. But she wasn't as good at Defence as her friends. Never had been. She wasn't weak - she was quite good, actually. Compared to most others. But Harry was exceptional at Defence, and Ron wasn't far behind their friend. And if this meeting turned out to be a trap, the two of them would be able to survive where she might not. And she wasn't useless - she was the reserve. She was the ace up their sleeve.

She still hated waiting, though. And worrying. Especially with her friends out in the open while she was protected by Harry's Cloak of Invisibility. The meeting had been arranged through the Order. It should be safe. But they knew that nothing and no one was safe in this war - they had proved it themselves, several times, by unexpectedly striking at the enemy. And the Death Eaters had far fewer scruples.

But Diggle had been an Order member in the first war - he was experienced. Dumbledore had trusted his cell to protect Harry and his relatives. If he needed to meet them, it had to be important.

But where was Diggle?

As if he had heard her thoughts, the man appeared. And as soon as she saw him, she knew things had gone wrong. He was hurt. His robes were singed. And he looked confused.

Harry stunned him at once, then dropped a Portkey on him. A moment later, Diggle, Harry and Ron vanished.

Hermione, still watching from a distance, activated her own Portkey, dreading what they would learn.

After all, Diggle's cell had been tasked with protecting the families of various muggleborns.