Once again, My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

Chapter 53: The Bunker

Kremlin, Moscow, Russia, January 23rd, 2006

Ron suppressed a sigh as the towers of the Kremlin grew closer. Once more into the breach - or, in this case, into the heart of darkness, as Sirius called it - and he was once more a passenger.

On the other hand, while he didn't have as much experience as Hermione had on a broom - though she hadn't ridden a broom for seven years - he did have more experience with modern security systems. And that's what they were here for. If he were guiding the broom, he wouldn't be able to focus on that.

But he still would prefer to fly himself.

They were flying low over a roof and were almost at Red Square. Ron kept an eye out for birds. The birds might not be able to see them, but that didn't prevent accidental collisions. And if they were rammed by a bird several times Ron's own mass while riding a broom high in the air, the effects wouldn't be pretty. At least the birds' presence insured that they wouldn't have to worry about radar or other means that might detect them.

At least outside the Kremlin. Inside, the Russians didn't have to worry about birds triggering false alerts. Though they still had to worry about insects and vermin, so any system that could detect two shrunk people as a threat, but would dismiss a moth or perhaps a mouse would be an outlier. On the other hand, Putin might not care in the slightest about his guards having to chase moths and mice...

"Which route should we take?" Hermione asked as they flew low over Red Square.

"Let's try the corner office on the first floor," he told her. The clerk there loved fresh air and often had both his window and the door open. Ron wondered how the man could stand the cold - even with the heating at full blast, almost hot enough to boil water over the radiators, the office was cold.

Wizarding Luna thought the man had Ice Faeries amongst his ancestors. Or Siberian Giants. Luna thought he was the result of a genetic experiment in the sixties.

All that mattered now, though, was that the man had often facilitated their entry into the Kremlin with his habits. And today was no different from their last trip - they flew through the open window, made a quick stop on top of a filing cabinet to check on the bug there and look out for trouble. They could've apparated, of course - they knew the office by now - but that would make a distinct noise. The odds of someone noticing were a little too high.

Once the coast was clear, they flew into the hallway. Nothing new here, Ron noted. Same guards at the lift - different people, but the same number. And as they flew closer, towards the stairs, Ron also saw that the guards had the same orders as last time: They stepped aside as the lift doors opened, and a man stepped out but quickly moved to ensure no invisible person could slip out of the cabin behind him.

Unless they were shrunken and flying, of course - Hermione guided the broom into the lift without any trouble. And there didn't seem to be any new sensors or countermeasures, so all they had to do was to wait until someone entered who was travelling downstairs, into the basement.

Which could take a while, of course. It took four clerks travelling up and down before a young soldier in a crisp uniform with polished boots entered. A junior officer, Ron noted - he hadn't seen him before, but that didn't mean anything. Not with the dozens of guards changing shifts every day.

And now they were travelling to the basement - the officer had used a code and a badge. He wasn't going to the lowest level, but it would be enough for them to scout out the area - there had to be stairs leading down as well. Perhaps even escape chutes, as Luna had speculated - though those would probably only be installed in Putin's office.

The lift came to a stop, but the doors didn't open. And the officer straightened, coming to attention - no, Ron realised, the man wasn't standing at attention - he was bracing himself. What for?

Suddenly, the man moved, whirling so his back was to the door, flailing his arms and kicking with his legs in quick succession, covering the entire cabin. Hermione barely managed to dodge one strike - Ron felt the air move as the giant hand barely missed them.

Had they been detected? Did they need to apparate? That would make noise, a noise the man would hear...

But then the officer stopped flailing around and straightened again, smoothing his uniform. He said something in Russian, and another voice answered in Russian. Then the doors of the lift opened, and the man strode out, Hermione quickly following him.

The Russians had protocols and routines for invisible stalkers. They had expected that, but to see it in action… Dumbledore hadn't exaggerated their paranoia.

On the other hand, was it paranoia if there really was someone after you who could turn invisible and teleport? He pushed the thought away and focused on the corridor they had just entered. It looked older than he had expected. Bare concrete, with some fixtures that looked antique - uncovered cables and pipes running along the ceiling, boxes of various colours and materials nailed to the walls, lighting that looked decades old and several cameras covering the corridor - the whole place seemed set up for maintenance workers and other employees who didn't rate a nice-looking office.

Ron didn't see anything that looked new - but was that just a cover? Leave the antique fixtures in place so intruders didn't notice the hidden installations? He was being paranoid as well, but then you had to be when dealing with the Russians.

The young officer had walked straight down the corridor, reaching a bulwark - no, an airlock. There was a second door, closed, behind the first.

Hermione didn't hesitate - she followed the officer inside. The door behind them closed more slowly than Ron expected - but that, too, might be camouflage. It locked in place behind them and Ron tensed. The ceiling here was new. Smooth, and a little lower than the corridor's - there would be enough space to install whatever the Russians wanted.

Then he heard the noise of a fan spinning up. A moment later, he felt a draft which quickly increased in strength. He felt Hermione tense as she fought to keep the broom steady against what felt like a whirlwind tearing at them, trying to suck them into and through the grate covering the air vent. What was the purpose of this? Were they sucking out all the air? Creating a vacuum? That would kill the officer! But if a sensor had detected them...

Breathing was becoming hard, and holding your breath in a forming vacuum was bad. He squeezed Hermione's shoulder a moment before the officer fell down, and she apparated with him and the broom.

They reappeared outside the Kremlin, and Ron gulped down air. "We must have been detected," he whispered.

"How? Radar? Infrared wouldn't work. Ultrasound or thermographic, maybe?" Hermione asked, panting.

"Or combined." That would be bad - the Russians wouldn't assume it was a sensor glitch if two or more sensors had detected them.

Outskirts of Moscow, Russia, January 23rd, 2006

"Indeed, I fear we have to assume that you were detected. I doubt that they got a good reading off you - but they will at least suspect that we are using miniature drones and take appropriate countermeasures," Dumbledore said.

"If they're hoping to jam them, that won't hinder us," Luna pointed out.

"We were too deep inside the Kremlin," Ron told her. "They'll assume it was an autonomous drone."

"Then they'll suspect the shadow government is behind this," Luna said. "Good. That will distract them from us."

"Unless they think we're part of the shadow government," wizarding Luna pointed out.

"They will suspect Albus either way," Luna retorted.

"But they won't suspect my presence in Russia," Dumbledore said. "Just a month ago, I wouldn't have been physically able to go on this mission."

"That won't change that they'll know we're in the area," Harry said. "Things just became far more dangerous."

Ron saw Hermione bite her lower lip - she was blaming herself. But it had been Ron's fault; he should have noticed the different ceiling before they entered the airlock. Hell, he should've suspected a trap as soon as he spotted the airlock. He sighed. "So… infiltrating while disillusioned and shrunken seems too dangerous now."

"Unfortunately, I must concur with that assessment." Dumbledore nodded. "Even adding more magical bugs might be too great a risk now."

"What can we do, then?" Ginny asked.

"We'll have to focus on the people. They are the key to this," Dumbledore said. "Not even Putin can keep all his guards and all his staff in a bunker below the Kremlin." He grinned. "Although he might make a very credible attempt, of course."

"But as we've seen," Ron pointed out, "whoever goes into the basement is thoroughly checked."

"Indeed, they are. But there are magical ways to deal with such scrutiny, are there not?" The old man smiled at Hermione.

"I thought you deemed Polyjuice Potion too dangerous since we would be expected to know passphrases."

"Indeed." His smile widened. "But now that they are looking for drones, I think hitching a ride on one of Putin's trusted staff might have become a valid alternative."

Oh. Ron's eyes widened. "Shrunken, disillusioned and using an Extension Charm, we could hide inside the smallest pocket!"

"Quite so." Dumbledore inclined his head. "Even frisking someone won't reveal us, as I recall from your bag's enchantments, Dr Granger."

Moscow, Russia, January 24th, 2006

Ron peered through the binoculars at the office. It wasn't quite dark yet, but the sun was setting, and the air quality in Moscow wasn't the best. They could have flown closer, but with the Russians now - probably - aware of miniature flying threats, that might not be advisable. Besides, they were still closer to the Kremlin than most of Ron's past surveillance tasks. Of course, on those surveillance tasks, he had usually been camped out in a flat. Not lying on a roof's railing while shrunk to the size of a small rodent. Or a big insect.

He focused on the job at hand. Wool-gathering wouldn't help anyone.

"That's Ivan Yahontov. Or a body double," he said. The man was supposed to be one of President Putin's trusted advisors, according to Dumbledore, though Ron had never heard of him. Nor had many outside the secret service - Yahontov was the sort of advisor who dealt with the clandestine, unsavoury affairs of Russia. Putin's 'Mann fürs Grobe', as Dumbledore had quoted Grindelwald.

"Talking to Lebedev's secretary?" Harry replied. "That seems unusual."

And Yahontov looked angry, from what Ron could tell. Sneering and glaring, if his body language was any indication.

"Lebedev is nominally in charge of procurement for the Kremlin's offices," Sirius pointed out. "They might have hidden some of their black ops budget there."

"Among office supplies?" Harry sounded doubtful. Very doubtful.

"Hey - you're a government employee; you should know how much money is spent on red tape!"

"I know that it's not enough to run clandestine missions on it," Harry shot back.

"According to our transcript, I think it's actually about the additional fixtures Mr Yahontov wants to be installed," Dumbledore cut in - he was not on the railing, but on the ground below. Somewhere. Ron still hadn't gotten used to everyone being invisible. Disillusioned. It should feel like having a conference call, but it didn't. Somehow. Dumbledore went on: "Apparently, they would put too much of a strain on the budget and the electric lines of the basement. Or so Mr Lebedev claims."

"Won't denying Putin get him deported to Siberia?" Ginny asked. "That's his security the man is delaying."

"President Putin usually reserves such punishment for political opponents and dangerous rivals," Dumbledore explained, "not for bureaucrats - as long as they aren't actively working against him. And Mr Lebedev has a lot of influence for a man in his position. However, whether he is guilty of that or not, I think we can assume that Mr Yahontov will visit his office again in either case."

"Or his goons will," Luna added, "dragging him into the basement's torture chamber while an accident is arranged."

That was a little too far even for Luna, in Ron's opinion.

"That is unlikely, I think, though not impossible," Dumbledore replied. "President Putin was already feeling threatened, but now, with an intruder - small as they were - detected so close to his citadel, so to speak, and then escaping without a trace? His patience and forgiveness might be in very short supply. And since I doubt that he spread the news about that to many outside his most trusted circle, Mr Lebedev might not be aware of it - or of the president's mood, though the latter is unlikely."

"Soulless bureaucrats like him usually know far more about their superiors' moods than their actual duties," Luna said.

"In any case," Harry cut in, "we expect Yahontov to enter that office again, sometime in the next few days."

"Yes," Dumbledore confirmed. "It would behove us to prepare accordingly."

"Camping trip!" wizarding Luna exclaimed.

Looking around the top of the armoire in the secretary's office, Ron shook his head. This wasn't a camping trip. Even though, at their present size, the armoire was huge - its top large enough to house a dozen tents comfortably.

Not that they had a dozen tents. Just one. And not their wizarding tent with all the amenities. This tent, if you could call it that, was basically two pieces of cloth stuck together. More a sleeping bag than a tent, actually, even with the small pole that was propping up the opening. The Extension Charm Hermione had cast on the interior, though, at least allowed it to house the entire group without packing them in like sardines. More importantly, though, it could be both disillusioned and shrunk easily - and they'd need that more than the luxury the other tent provided. Even though it meant Ron usually had to feel around a bit to find the tent's entrance.

He sighed again and moved forward, to the edge, and looked down at the secretary. Now all they needed to do was to wait for Yahontov.

Moscow, Russia, January 25th, 2006

"There he is!" Ron whispered, watching the Russian enter the office. He quickly turned and sprinted back, towards the spot where the 'tent' was - but even after more than a day spent here, he still had to feel around for the entrance. Then he stuck his head inside. "He's here!"

"Get ready! Luna! Come on!" Hermione snapped as she jumped up from where she had been reading on the tent's floor.

"Alright!"

"Other Luna!"

"Oh."

Ron clenched his teeth as he crawled inside. He wanted to fly, but he didn't have as much experience as either Hermione or wizarding Luna. And he couldn't cast a Levitation Charm in a pinch. Still… he patted Hermione on the shoulder as she crawled past him, then nodded at wizarding Luna before both faded from view and he felt them crawl out of the tent.

As soon as they had left, he turned around and stuck his head outside. If he couldn't help, he at least wanted to watch. A moment later, he heard Harry behind him. "Tell us if it looks as if we'll have to fight."

He almost nodded, but Harry couldn't see him. "Yes," he whispered. Then the tent was lifted into the air - Hermione had cast her spell. And they flew towards the giant Yahontov, who was talking to the secretary again. The man sounded smug - Ron couldn't understand Russian, but he knew that tone.

He clenched his teeth, drawing a hissing breath as he suddenly plunged towards Yahontov's head - and felt slightly sick; his body wasn't feeling the same movement as his head was. What was Hermione aiming for?

The dive stopped a few inches above Yahontov's shoulder, then Ron felt a jerk and the tent moved again - slower this time. They cleared the man's shoulder just as Yahontov straightened, and Ron found himself in front of the man's chest.

Yahontov turned away, though, and his arm almost hit the tent - they barely cleared the huge appendage moving below them. As the Russian strode towards the door, Ron felt another jerk before they sped up and overtook the man, dropping down before the massive door to Lebedev's office - and then raced towards Yahontov's chest again.

Ron ducked into the tent an instant before the tent hit Yahontov, then stuck his head out again. He had to see.

What he saw was the door opening. He craned his neck - the tent was stuck to the chest pocket of the man's shirt. As planned.

Something touched his head. A hand - Hermione's? Or Luna's? He didn't care. He reached out, grabbing the arm and guided it to the edge of the tent's entrance. Or the pocket's, now.

He felt clothes - jeans - brushing over his face as the still unknown witch wriggled past him into the tent. Then the next hand touched him, on the shoulder, and he repeated his actions. And he recognised the fabric this time - it was Hermione's turtleneck.

Both were safely inside, then. Just in time to meet Lebedev. Which meant Dumbledore would be joining Ron any moment.

And here he was - Ron heard his breath as the old man took up a position next to him. Neither of them spoke, of course - that would have been bad, so close to Yahontov's ears, even though the Russian was speaking rather loudly.

Then again, at their shrunken size, any words spoken by a relative giant would sound loud to their shrunken ears.

Not that they were here to eavesdrop, anyway - they were here so they could get into Putin's bunker and scout it - though if they should happen upon Putin himself…

Lebedev and Yahontov spoke for a few minutes - or, rather, Yahontov spoke while Lebedev gave curt answers. The other man looked nervous, at least to Ron, while Yahontov was smiling - though from Ron's angle, it was hard to tell.

But, finally, Yahontov turned to leave and marched out, past the secretary without a further word. Now, would he head downstairs, into the basement? Or go outside? If Yahontov went outside, they could grab him and interrogate him - it would be dangerous, but it might get them the intel needed to plan the actual mission.

Yahontov didn't turn towards the exit. He stepped into the lift and went down again - the same route the officer had taken the other day. He didn't wave his hands around, Ron noticed - but the ceiling in the lift looked different. New. More sensors - ultrasound? Radar? Thermographic cameras? The Russians had reacted quickly, in any case.

But it wouldn't help them. They weren't flying any more - but invisible and stuck to Yahontov's shirt in an impossibly thin pocket.

He withdrew into the tent for a moment and whispered: "We're in the lift."

"Coming," he heard Hermione answer.

"Yes," wizarding Luna added before he stuck his head outside again.

Then it got a bit crowded at the entrance to the pocket. He could feel Hermione on his back, twisting a little as she looked around. The lift had stopped, and the doors slid back, revealing a long corridor - the same one Ron had seen before. But there were a few more boxes, mounted high on the walls.

Definitely more sensors, then. Probably some sentry guns as well, or something similar. Gas, perhaps? The Russians had experience with that, after all - and they wouldn't really care about a few intruders accidentally dying, as long as they were stopped.

They should have prepared their masks. Hermione also had a spell that could be used instead of a gas mask, not that either would work against nerve gas, but to depend on her for everything didn't feel right. Or safe. As Percy had once lectured at a family dinner, any process where a single point of failure could ruin everything was in need of improvement.

Yahontov walked quickly towards, then into, the airlock, and Ron tensed. If the Russians had added sensors in the lift and corridor, would they have added anything here? Gas remained an option, but would they risk Yahontov's health? Ron didn't think that Putin cared about common soldiers, but a trusted advisor? They probably wouldn't.

He still held his breath as the door closed behind the Russian. Then clenched his teeth when he heard the ventilation system roar. This time, though, the air pressure didn't seem to drop. It was just exchanging the air, then. And no alert rang out as the other door opened and they finally saw what lay beyond the airlock.

Another corridor, of course - but better furnished than the one leading here. No raw concrete walls here, but rather old fashioned wooden panelling. And more of those sensor boxes. He wanted to take one apart to see what they did, but there was no way to do that. Not at their present size.

Three more guards greeted Yahontov as he walked past them. They had gas masks on their hips, Ron noticed - so they definitely needed to account for gas in planning an intrusion.

They passed a few doors, all quite solid looking, and two alcoves with three guards each, before they reached another airlock at a T-junction where Yahontov used a retina scanner - no, an iris scanner - and a keypad to open the door. Quite sophisticated.

Four guards and a dog faced Yahontov inside the oversized airlock. After a perfunctory greeting - unlike the other guards they had passed - they frisked him thoroughly. Ron didn't see the whole procedure - they had to withdraw into the pocket when the guards' hands got close - but he'd also noticed a hand-held scanner being used, even though there had to be scanners in the wall or ceiling.

Putin wasn't taking any chance, then. Too bad that they had magic and he didn't.

Ron stuck his head out after thirty seconds - very carefully, of course; a single swipe by a giant hand could break his neck. The guards were still scanning Yahontov, but finishing up. And the dog was sitting on the ground. Good. Ron had been worried about the animal smelling them, but, apparently, the dog wasn't trained to bark at miniature people. He slid back and informed the others.

Hermione was back with him just in time to see the commander of the guard detachment order the door to open through an old-looking intercom. The door swung open, and Ron resisted the urge to whistle.

Behind the door wasn't a seventies-style bunker, but what looked like a modern office floor - a brightly lit, elegantly furnished corridor leading to several doors and intersections. Yahontov walked past the first few, none of them marked in any way, then knocked on the next door and entered. A female secretary sat behind an elegant desk, and two guards stood in front of a wooden door. No nameplate or sign - but Ron was sure it would be Putin's office.

He saw the two guards nodding at Yahontov, but then looking at the secretary before stepping out of his path. So, the woman - who had to be an FSB operative - had access to another scanner.

And then, finally, Yahontov opened the door - which was very thick, with the wall being even thicker - and there was Putin, sitting behind a massive desk.

Jackpot.

Then he saw the four armed guards, one in each corner, with weapons drawn. Good firing angles - only the desk would offer some cover from the two guards in the back. Unless it was trapped - which would fit Putin.

While the two men talked to each other, Ron looked around - it wasn't as if he understood Russian, after all. The office wasn't as opulent as he had thought. Not excessively spartan, but certainly much more functional than luxurious. That wasn't a good thing, of course. At least not for them. No luxuries meant fewer distractions for Putin. And less money spent on luxuries instead of defences.

And where would those defences be? He couldn't spot any obvious sensors, but there would be new ones. He just had to find them. He pulled his binoculars out and started studying the - currently - gigantic office, especially the walls and ceiling. There was a door behind Putin - probably leading to his private quarters. And Ron was sure that Yahontov wouldn't be invited in there.

He focused on sensors. Cameras that also included thermographic ones would be hidden in the ceiling. Multiple ones, covering the entire room and each other. Pressure plates on the ground, maybe? To spot invisible intruders? Or would the Russians go for the classic mundane countermeasures for invisibility? Flour spread on the ground, or paint guns? Paint guns, Ron decided. Flour was too ineffective. And they were expecting a technological device, not magic. Though if they expected some sort of space warping - or light warping - instead of some Predator-like suit, then paint wouldn't help much either.

He almost chuckled. What was he thinking? The Russians would use everything that might have a chance at working. And Putin would have an escape route ready. Or several.

And even if they were fast enough to grab him and disapparate, the other Russians would know. And they needed to interrogate Putin and wipe his mind without anyone knowing. Which meant finding out who was monitoring his office. And where.

Or… He studied the ceiling again. They didn't have to fool all the sensors if they managed to compromise the entire security system covering Putin's office. New systems. Recently installed. Under time pressure. The Russians wouldn't have been able to create a perfect network. They would have made mistakes. Cut some corners.

The sensors would be in the ceiling - easy to install a new fake one - and the floor. The carpet could be hiding a battery of sensors. The walls? Perhaps. Some of the wooden panelling could easily have been replaced.

But where would the sensors' feeds go? They wouldn't be using wireless. The threat of the network getting compromised, no matter how feasible that actually was, would be too high for someone like Putin. So lines, then. They would have added some cables when they built the bunker, but they wouldn't have expected the number of electronic devices a modern office needed. And big cable ducts would compromise the bunker. Although there were air ducts already. Still… one cable duct would handle most lines. To the secretary outside? No. Too obvious. She would be a target for any attacker - like traitorous guards. But there would be a cable duct to her office. So the cables leading to the security centre would be going through the secretary's office, but outside her reach.

Good. Ron was sure that breaking into the secretary's office would be easier than breaking directly into Putin's office.

Although… Putin would also have an ace of some sort up his sleeve. Some backup security system. Or just a guard waiting in his quarters and monitoring the office through another means.

Damn.

Yahontov and Putin had finished talking to each other, and the 'advisor' was now leaving the office.

The Russian quickly left - no checks this time, Ron noticed. No flirting with the secretary, which would have given them time to study this office in more detail. He did note that neither here nor in Putin's office were there any visible air ducts, though there were ventilation gaps in the ceiling. The fake ceiling. Where most of the sensors were hidden.

The air ducts would have filters and grates. And sensors of their own.

But they could use magic to deal with that.

Ron nodded, tracking the air ducts as Yahontov walked towards the exit. Yes, if they managed to get into the air ducts, they could probably access every room. He almost snorted again - it would be a little like in a spy movie, where the heroes crawled through air ducts to break into the villain's lair.

Well, the plan would need some refinement - but they would have time for that. They had to wait for a good opportunity to leave Yahontov, after all. Probably once he was back in his quarters or apartment.

Knowing where he lived so they could, if needed, apparate there would be helpful as well, anyway.

Outskirts of Moscow, Russia, January 25th, 2006

"The air ducts?" Harry didn't look like he agreed with Ron's plan. "They'll have filters there. And sensors. And they'll be prepared to stop drones and animals."

"They could suck us straight into a filter or grate - or worse," Hermione added.

"But we can deal with those obstacles," Ron retorted. "With magic, we can beat them. And once we're inside the fake ceilings, we can hack the security systems protecting Putin."

"I could deal with the cameras and other sensors," Luna said. "If I have access to their network."

"They might not have a network," Dumbledore pointed out. "The Russians would prefer separate systems so that the failure of one won't render the entire installation defenceless."

"So we track them all," Ron said. "We need to get to Putin where he won't be bothered for at least a couple hours, and that means his office or his home." And since Putin slept in the bunker these days...

"While I have to agree about the need to capture President Putin long enough to interrogate him, I don't think it will be easy to use the air ducts to infiltrate his bunker," Dumbledore told him. "However, I have to agree that after we were detected, although not identified, we cannot expect him to expose himself to danger outside his bunker any time soon."

"And he'll try to strike at us and take out the threat to himself," Sirius added. "The best defence is a strong offence. He did attack us already, after all."

"This is true," Dumbledore replied, nodding slowly. "But he might fall back on the KGB's old tricks and use assassination rather than another raid. My old opponents were very skilled at killing people through various means."

"We'll have to be wary of umbrellas," Ginny said with a forced grin. She was sitting even closer than usual to Harry, Ron noticed, and she was gripping his arm.

"It was actually the Bulgarian Secret Service that killed Georgi Markov with a poisoned umbrella tip," Dumbledore told her with a thin smile. "Although the KGB used the same playbook."

"Could we scare Putin into leaving the bunker?" Sirius asked after a moment. "A few more intrusions, perhaps leave some drones, and he might think that the bunker is compromised and flee."

"Would he have a fall-back hideout prepared?" Harry frowned. "And he would be likely to be heavily guarded while he travelled, so we couldn't kidnap him without being noticed."

"I think such a ploy would make President Putin more paranoid than he already is, and would likely lead to stricter security, thereby defeating its purpose," Dumbledore said. With a sigh, he added: "As much as I dislike it, I fear that Mr Weasley's plan is our best option."

Ron couldn't help but feel that took all the satisfaction out of having his plan approved.

"If we're doing this," Hermione spoke up, "then we'll need more help. And more supplies. We'll need to return to Britain for that."

"As expected," Dumbledore said. "This was, after all, a reconnaissance mission."

Black Lake, Scotland, January 27th, 2006

"You want to kidnap the president of Russia?" wizarding Harry blurted out. "That's your 'urgent problem'?"

"Blimey!" wizarding Ron added.

Hermione's so-called best friends didn't look happy, Ron noticed. Well, they had said they wanted to help with Hermione's problem, hadn't they?

"Technically, we aren't planning to kidnap him - we're planning to capture him in his office, interrogate him and then change his memory so he'll forget about us," Hermione told them.

Harry's counterpart frowned. "You know what I mean."

"Yes," Hermione admitted, sighing. "I know it sounds bad, but we have a plan, and we've scouted the place. But we need more help to actually carry it out. Putin doesn't know about magic, but he expects us to use Disillusionment Charms and Apparition."

"And small animals or drones," Ron added.

"Drones?" his counterpart asked.

"Remote-controlled cars or aeroplanes," Ron explained. "With cameras that you can see through."

"Or helicopters," Luna interjected. "Some are just the right size for shrunken people to ride in."

Hermione frowned at both of them. And, perhaps, at him as well. "In any case," she said, raising her voice a little, "we can't just apparate inside and stun him and his guards. We need to disable his security system first, so no one notices us. And that requires us to travel through the air ducts of the bunker."

"Like in a spy movie?" Wizarding Harry seemed to grin for a moment before turning serious again.

"Not exactly," Hermione told him.

"More like a discount version of Fantastic Voyage," Ron said. "Or Innerspace."

Hermione's friends didn't seem to be familiar with either movie, though. And she glared at him as if that was his fault. "We'll have been shrunk," she explained. "And we'll have to deal with a lot of obstacles."

"All without alerting the Russians to our presence," Luna cut in again.

"Ah." Wizarding Ron nodded.

His friend, though, looked sceptical. "How long will that take?"

"About a week, by my estimate," Hermione replied. "Maybe two at most - it depends on how quickly we find all the security systems."

"It'll be like an expedition," wizarding Luna added with a smile. "Just inside a giant - relatively speaking - building instead of a jungle or mountain. And without any magical beasts to discover."

"Well, we can ask for two more weeks off," wizarding Ron said. "It's not as if we've been taking long vacations. Certainly not this year."

"Ginny won't like it if I cancel our summer vacation," wizarding Harry pointed out.

Ron couldn't help glancing at his sister. She was frowning, as expected.

"Well, she'll understand, mate," his counterpart told him. "Especially if it's for Hermione." He suddenly blinked. "We could ask her to help us."

"No, she's finishing training for the second part of the season." Wizarding Harry shook his head.

"We still need someone to watch over our Healer," Ron said. "It's not that we don't trust him, just…" He shrugged. "Constant vigilance."

That made both wizards nod in agreement. "Well, if Ginny's out, then I think we'll have to ask Fred and George," wizarding Ron suggested. "Percy and Dad are too busy at the Ministry, and Charlie, Bill and Fleur are working abroad, but the twins can take a week or two off."

It looked like the laboratory would be taken over by Weasleys. Ron wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing. He looked at Hermione.

She didn't seem to know the answer to that question, either. As long as they didn't meet their counterparts… He winced.

Swell.

But Hermione nodded. "I was planning to visit their shop, anyway."

"...and this is our latest product: the Deadly Distraction!" Fred announced as he put a small ball down on the table.

"What does it do?" Ron asked.

"Rolls around, screaming like a banshee - though not as deadly, alas, we didn't manage to copy their power," George said.

"But we're working on a Mandrake-powered version which should solve that," Fred added.

"And after a set time, it explodes," George continued. "You can use a firework in it or a vial whose contents will be spread all around it. Or some Erumpent horn fluid if you want a really big explosion."

"We don't have much of the fluid, though," Fred said. "But we have a lot of fireworks and potions. And poisons."

Both wizards grinned at them.

"So, think you can use them?" George asked.

Ron nodded emphatically - he was probably already thinking of ways to kill Death Eaters with them.

But she wasn't so sure. "What if you set them to explode and then needed to stop them?" she asked.

The matching frowns on the twins' faces didn't fill her with confidence.

"That would be bad," Fred said.

"If you can't get away, then your best choice would be to destroy them or transfigure them into something else," George added.

"We made them hard to hit, though," Fred admitted. "We're still working on a disillusioned version."

In other words, they hadn't planned for that. She didn't sigh, even though she wanted to. It was typical of them - the twins were brilliant at their craft, but they often failed to consider all the drawbacks of their products. "Well, if we need them for a distraction, we can simply use something harmless in them. Or nothing at all."

Their frowns deepened. "That would be a waste, though," Fred complained.

This time, Hermione did sigh.