"Come in," Colonel Boyd called from inside of the small command office. Burke hated these stupid modular structures. They were portable and easy to set up, sure, but they were thin and everything felt flimsy. He opened the door and let himself in.

"Colonel," Burke greeted. He didn't wait to be offered a seat before taking a chair opposite the Colonel. Not being in the real chain of command had its perks.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Boyd sighed, setting down a report and leaning back in his chair, at least as far back as one could in the little office.

"My source within the Auror's office believes they have actionable intelligence, specifically, where the political prisoners are being held." Burke paused a moment, expecting some kind of reaction from the Colonel. When it didn't happen, he continued. "I'd like to set up a meet and get the intel, which means I need to leave the FOB."

The Colonel took a moment to mull this over, trying Burke's patience.

"Something wrong, Colonel?" The officer had seen fit to let Captain Gordon know, against Burke's better judgement, about the arrest of Sirius Black and the raid at The Burrow. Giving that kind of intel to a bunch of operators, already impulsive before you account for age...it invited disaster. And now he was hesitant to confirm more intel?

"I like to take a moment to consider things," the Colonel said coolly. "You know, I have no actual authority to launch a rescue op. Even if we find these folks, there is no telling when I can get to them."

"Of course I understand that," Burke sighed, "it's Captain Gordon you should be explaining this to."

"Do we have a problem?" The Colonel sat forward, locking his fingers and inviting a response from Burke, who had to struggle not to take the bait. He hated being stuck under the authority of these military gorillas, but like it or not, he still had to follow Boyd's rules. To an extent.

"No problem, just reiterating my concern about giving intelligence to someone who can't act on it when they have an obvious personal stake."

"It's clear to me that you don't particularly care for the military, Mr. Burke, and that's fine. I don't rightly give a shit about you or your feelings. I do, however, give a shit about my operators and their operational readiness. They're gonna learn about these raids one way or another, and if I go hiding that shit from them, it's gonna hurt their trust in the command structure, which in turn affects their readiness. I don't expect you to understand, but I do expect you to keep your damned mouth shut and focus on your job."

What an ass. "Got it."

"Go get that intel, let me know what you find out." The Colonel picked up his report. Burke took the hint and left. The meeting had been set up already, and his travel arrangements were made as well. Still, it was good that he wasn't technically breaking any rules by going out to his meet.

"How did you hear about this, again?" Ron asked as they paced the seventh floor corridor yet again. Harry was pretty sure he was still bummed about the fact that they weren't going with his idea, which was to use the Shrieking Shack.

"For the last time, Ronald," Hermione started, evidently sharing Harry's thoughts, "the Shrieking Shack is too small, and we have to get past the Whomping Willow every time we have a meeting."

Harry suppressed a chuckle as Ron sighed and pretended to look for secret buttons along the wall. Dobby had told them about a room up here that would potentially fit the need. The problem was, they needed to find it first.

Dobby only had a few moments to talk before moving on and cleaning elsewhere. Evidently Umbridge was a bit of a taskmaster with regard to the elves and their hands were kept pretty full with duties.

"Why don't you two go check the other hall?" Harry asked after a long moment. Hermione gave him a quizzical look while Ron shrugged indifferently.

"Didn't Dobby say the hall to the left?" Hermione asked.

"I'm pretty sure, yeah," Harry admitted, "but we're getting nowhere pacing the halls like this. Maybe he misspoke, or maybe I misheard…"

"Right." She didn't sound convinced, but she turned and headed to the right hall with Ron at her heels.

Harry appreciated his friends and their unwavering commitment to help him, but sometimes he just needed some time to think. Dobby had said he could probably find what he needs up here, but he didn't say how.

Really, it was space he needed. Hermione had been striking up a lot of conversations with other students, looking for those unsatisfied with the current "don't do anything practical" method of defense learning. She'd found a few dozen students that were interested in forming a group, in order to practice in their off-time.

Of course, directly after word of the group spread, Umbridge had banned gatherings of more than five students for anything that wasn't a class. It didn't scare off any of the group...if anything it lit a fire under them. Harry still didn't feel quite ready to be a teacher, but everyone else was looking to him and he wasn't about to let them down.

So, he needed space. Somewhere big enough that they would all fit and be able to practice fighting one another in a controlled space, somewhere they could actually learn, and without worrying about Umbridge breathing down their necks.

He really wished he could get in touch with Brad. Dobby insisted he'd delivered the letter, but Brad hadn't replied yet. He hoped they weren't being left completely on their own, he could use some advice.

At the end of the hall, Harry turned to pace back. There was a door there that he hadn't seen before. He waved his arms at Ron, who looked to be striking up a conversation with a medieval maiden on one of the paintings. It took a second, but Ron caught on and his friends came over.

"Where'd that come from?" Ron asked, gesturing to the heavyset door. It looked like the kind of door that belonged in the armory of a fortress, thick wooden beams connected by heavy metal bands.

"I dunno," Harry said, running his hand along the woodgrains and to the handle. He looked to his friends, who encouraged him. He opened it.

The three stumbled their way in, stunned by the expansive room before them. It was easily large enough to fit their group of students, but that wasn't all. There were dueling platforms in neat rows all along the right side of the room. To the left stood rows of bookshelves, all filled with books. There were tables and chairs...a perfect studying space.

Directly ahead there was a large fireplace, a haphazard array of cushioned sofas and chairs scattered nearby.

Herimone was the first to break ranks, darting to the left to examine the bookshelves. The spell now broken, he and Ron headed to the fireplace. Ron wasted no time plopping himself onto a couch and sighing contentedly.

"Harry, these books are all related to defensive magic!" Hermione called out. He didn't reply, however. He was looking at a table that he hadn't noticed earlier, tucked into an alcove adjacent to the fireplace.

Siting neatly in the middle was what looked like a radio. There were a dozen dials and buttons, lights and numbers. He had no idea what any of it meant, but he knew it was a radio. It had that stout, olive drab look that military equipment had, and the handset microphone was self explanatory.

He tapped it, but nothing happened. He remembered Brad saying something about channels when talking about the radio, and his exhilaration left him. He had no idea what channel to switch to, even if he knew how.

"What'd you find, Harry?" Hermione was a few steps behind him. He stepped aside, letting her see it. "A radio?"

"Looks like it," Harry agreed. "If we can figure out what channel to talk on, we should be able to get in touch with Brad."

Hemione picked up the handset, turning it over in her hand. Along the side, there was a button that she clicked in and out a few times.

"Whoever's hot-miking, knock it off." Brad's voice crackled through the radio.

Hermione's eyes widened and she clicked the button down again, this time holding it. "Brad!"

"Who the hell is this?" Brad asked over the radio, sounding concerned.

"It's Hermione," she said, looking at her two friends excitedly. "I'm here with Harry and Ron."

"Uh…" the radio clicked off for a moment. "...how'd you guys get a radio?"

"That's a long story," Hermione said before jumping right into it. Together, they relayed the events of the last several weeks, in much more depth than a letter could. They told Brad about the rules, the new punishments, the lack of teaching...all of it.

They'd had to wait for Brad's tirade to die down after telling him about the carved message on the back of Harry's hand. It was pretty faded thanks to a healing salve Hermione had whipped up. The stuff was putrid, but it worked.

"So, here we are," Harry finished for them. "You should see this place, it's perfect. I don't know what I've never seen it before."

"Well, I'm glad you found a spot to do some training. You guys'll need it." The radio went quiet for a moment. "Look, can I get a moment with just Harry there? Trust me."

Hermione and Ron looked at each other, then him. It was obvious from his voice that something was troubling him. Why it would only concern Harry…

"Sure," Harry replied after a long moment. Hermione and Ron stepped away. She dragged him to the bookshelves when he tried to sit down at a couch close enough to listen. "What's up?"

"Look, we're getting shit for intel here. The base being locked down is not helping us understand what's going on, at all, outside of news reports and hearsay. We're still getting some intel, though, and I'm betting it's more than you guys have been getting."

"Alright." Harry didn't know where this was going, but he didn't like the sound of it.

"Sirius has been...disappeared, I guess. He was snatched off the street. Some Auror contacts that are feeding us intel think that it was the Ministry, but no one knows for sure. And no one knows where he might be."

Harry was dumbfounded. He couldn't picture it. Sirius...just gone?

"He's not the only one. We've heard of several others being hit. Ron's place got raided, definitely by the Ministry. No one got arrested, but they tossed the place around a bit. I just figured you should know."

"Yeah, thanks," Harry said, not really feeling all that thankful. He couldn't very well blame the messenger though.

"Look, we're working on it but there isn't much we can do about that right now. What we can do is get you guys prepared for your defense lessons. I've got some counter-intel thoughts that might help, you got a pen?"

The sun was finally dipping behind the mountains and hills. It was Umbridge's signal that the day was coming to a close, and the view from the Headmaster's office wasn't that bad either. She could get used to watching the light sparkle off of the surface of the lake below them.

Instead, she went and sat at the desk. It was big for her taste, but she had better things to do than worry about how comfortable the desk was. There was a lot of work to do. It really was unbelievable that these children had been given such freedom to do as they please.

The entire role of a school, certainly one as prestigious as Hogwarts, was to prepare the students for their lives in their communities. Britain needed more well-trained, well-mannered, and well-educated people. The last thing society needed was more brats running amok.

She closed her eyes and sighed, willing her blood to calm back down to a simmer. It took a moment, but she managed it. She found that was where she worked best. Not too agitated, but enough to keep her motivated to continue working.

From the neat stacks on her desk, she eyed a thick envelope and felt her pulse quicken again. It was in the stack that Head Inquisitor Malfoy left her at the end of each day, every bit of paper he'd confiscated. She'd learned a lot about the workings of the school that way, and punished many a deserving student with dungeon time as well. She loved having her own, internal dungeon!

Still, she knew by the look of the envelope that this was no ordinary letter. This was another bit of a puzzle that had been tormenting her lately. She tore it open.

Brad

I am not sure why you haven't been able to reply to me, but I hope you are well. I miss you. I hope to able to remedy that soon. I cannot guarantee it yet, though, so I won't say more. I hope to talk to you soon.

Fleur

Umbridge frowned. It was the fourth such letter she'd received, confiscated by Malfoy at the school Owlery.

There wasn't a student at the school named Brad, nor were there relatives of a student by the name of Fleur. It had taken a bit of digging, since she wasn't big on sporting events, but she had learned that Fleur was the name of the Beauxbatons champion during the tournament. Brad was the name of the muggle soldier that had competed in place of Harry Potter.

Just the thought of that little brat sent her blood boiling again. He was the pinnacle chaos, throwing his little celebrity status around and begging for attention. He seemed to thrive on causing problems for others and she was determined to stomp that out of him.

That wasn't what bothered her most about it, though. This Fleur evidently thought that Brad was still at Hogwarts, which was nonsense. The Ministry had kicked every last one of those cavalier Americans out of the country. Or, at least they believed they did.

If she was writing him letters here, it was because she thought that he was here. If she thought he was here, maybe he was.

There were problems with that theory, however. Try as she might, she could find no sign whatsoever of the muggle soldiers anywhere in the castle. She'd looked, and looked hard. Even requested a few Aurors to come assist her. They'd looked in ways she hadn't thought to, but still, they came up empty.

She wasn't convinced, but she didn't have any evidence that the muggles were still here. So, she satisfied herself with keeping an eye out.

And this Fleur, she'd hinted at something coming...some way to communicate with Brad. Umbridge had already tapped every fireplace in the castle and had a member of the Inquisitorial Squad present in the Owlery at all times. If she tried some other form of communication, Umbridge planned to be ready.