Title: Code of the Griffin
Author: Knife Hand
Feedback: Constructive feedback appreciated, flames unappreciated
Spoilers: Nothing Specific, general for first few books.
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I do not own Hermione, or Luna, or Ginny, or Cho, or... I would buy them all but I am broke.
Summary: From a war ravaged future, someone is sent back in time to change the course of the war.
The figures swarmed up upon her, everyone of the demanding Hermione's attention. And every one of them dead. A part of her mind knew this was a dream, but that small part was helpless against the tide of the dream. There were thousands of the dead, all from the future and battles of the Grand Marshall.
"We died for you." William Malfoy said, blood dripping from the gaping wound in the chest plate of his Slytherin armour.
"We suffered for you." Jenny Weasley said, her red hair a sodden, bloodstained mess and her right leg missing.
"You did it all for him." Sergeant Wilks said, her face and body torn, bloody and barely recognisable from the artillery shelling she had called down on herself to stop an entire army group from being overwhelmed.
"And he rejected you." A voice said from behind her.
Her heart clenched at that voice, the pain, the hatred, the loathing, the disappointment. She turned and faced the owner of that voice.
"He has not rejected me." She replied, trying to sound confident and failing, her voice breaking half way through. "You… you didn't."
Hermione collapsed to the ground and stared up at the man with the hole in his chest. The warrior who never wore a uniform. Her Harry, who looked down on her with scorn.
Hermione jerked awake, sitting strait up in her bed, eyes darting around for the spectres of the dead. After a second she flopped back down onto the large bed, her breath raged and her hear pounding a mile a minute.
Things had been hectic in the week since Christmas. The only thing that had run smoothly was the security of the Castle, with the Order being its usual efficient self, but everything else had seemed to be in crisis mode, even ignoring the Harry situation.
The holdings for House Gryffindor, most held through subsidiaries and holding companies, had suffered several setbacks. One company's stocks had plummeted, another was on the receiving end of an attempted hostile takeover, and another group of companies were the subject of sabotage.
The Hogwarts front was not faring any better. There were still some major staffing and curriculum issues for next year that had to be sorted out soon. The Revamped Muggle Studies and Wizarding Culture classes were settled, but the other classes were proving more difficult.
Hermione had to bring in a second Care for Magical Creatures Professor and restricted Hagrid to NEWT level classes, and after shifting through seventeen candidates had finally found a suitable Professor who would teach the younger students about less dangerous creatures.
Divination had now become a specialised course for those who showed signs of being a seer and was no longer eligible as a standard elective (which effectively shut down the course but keep the dubious Professor, who had nowhere else to go, on just in case), which of course meant that all students currently taking divination would have to take another elective and have to scramble to keep up or the professors would have to run a two tired class.
The new Potions Professor's post had over two hundred applicants. Professor Snape had gone through the applicants and culled seventy five that did not have enough Potions credentials or had bad reputations and was currently working on producing a shot list that both Snape and Hermione would review and possibly interview.
History of Magic was a nightmare. Every student at Hogwarts for the last three hundred years had been taught by Binns, so there were only four published Magical Historians in Great Brittan that had not been taught by the Ghost, and they were all rubbish. Hermione had been forced to send out feelers to the Continent to try and get a decent teacher.
As for the ever perilous Defence Against the Dark Arts, the real Professor Moody had made it clear that he was only staying the one year. As for applicants…. There were none. In desperation, Hermione had called in a few favours and had arranged for Bill Weasley, a noted Curse Breaker, to come and have a look to see if there was a curse on the position or offices or anything. After that she would probably have to call in some more favours to get someone to fill the position.
And then there was the TriWizard Tournament. Four meeting over the last week and no progress. She had gotten them to agree to scrap the Lake task, but no one had any ideas on what to replace it with. She had been shocked to learn that it had taken four months of meetings to come up with the original three tasks. Hermione had her own idea for the task but needed to sort out a few details before she presented it to those idiots.
Rolling out of bed, her bare feet hit the carpet of her Quarters, and she stretched her naked body as she moved past the library and weapons cases to the wardrobe and got dressed in PT gear. She made her way out of her Quarters, down the corridor to the Gym.
There were a number of Order members who were off duty and using the Gym. The weights machines, treadmills and punching bags were all in use. Two members were sparing in the ring with several watching and waiting for turns.
"Who's up next?" Hermione asked.
"Me." Kathryn Li replied. "I'm supposed to face the winner."
"Well, you will be facing me now." Hermione replied.
A mummer went through the onlookers. Hermione and Kathryn were known as the two most lethal members of the Order, but they had not sparred against each other yet. The two sparring in the ring finished up, allowing Kathryn and Hermione to enter the ring. They put on light gloves, designed more for mixed martial arts than boxing, and headgear.
"No holds barred." Hermione said before slipping in her mouthguard.
Kathryn nodded. The bell rang and Kathryn lead with a spin kick, which Hermione ducked under and the delivered a solid right hook to Kathryn's gut, the punch intensified by motion of Kathryn's kick. Kathryn retaliated with a downward elbow blow to Hermione's back.
The fight was on.
The operative knew his cover had been compromised, but this information was just too important. He walked down the street as if he was simply running errands as part of his normal day. He was certain that although they knew he was a plant, they did not know who he was really working for. He had covered his drops well, having visited seven small shops in the last three hours, and was approaching an eighth. Of those eight stores, three were just that, simple stores. Two had been his assigned drop points, and the other three had been drop points for rival covert surveillance operations. For those three he had sent two coded, in their own ciphers, recipes for the world's hottest curries, and the third was a ream of dirty limericks.
Having finished visiting the stores, and hoping the information sped its way through the circuitous routs of his drops, he headed back to his cover's apartment. Once he reached the apartment, he sat down in a chair facing the door, but off to the side so they did have a strait shot at him from the hallway. He waited with a glass of scotch on the table beside him, the pistol his cover identity had been issued resting gently on one armrest of the chair and his wand in the other hand.
When they came for him four hours later, he put up a good fight killing one and wounding three others. He did not expect to win, but that was not the point. He fought so that they were forced to kill him.
'My secrets die with me.' Was his last thought as a spray of bullets ripped him apart like tissue paper.
The Dowager Augusta Longbottom was known to be a hard woman, many describing her as bitter and aloof. She looked out on the well manicured lawns that surrounded Longbottom Manor, watching her grandson on the lawn doing his morning exercises, with her face impassive.
The truth was she had lived a long and hard life, but she did have a loving side. She had spent almost thirty years as an Auror in the wartime and post Grindlewald era, one of the rare times where the Magical and Muggle worlds had mirrored one and other. In the Muggle world it was called the Cold War, in the Magical it was called the Reconstitution. Both worlds had just emerged from a massive and devastating war and was now faced with hostile blocks of what used to be allies staring at each other across new boarders and wondering if another war was about to start.
For her first ten years as an Auror, Augusta Churchill, distant magical cousin to the wartime Prime Minister, had been fighting the war and then clearing out remaining cells of Grindlewald supporters throughout Magical England in a through and, at times bloody, purge. It was during those years that she had met the love of her life, a fellow Auror by the name of Joseph Longbottom. Within two years of meeting, the young couple were married. In 1947, Augusta had been trained as an undercover agent and was deployed to Eastern Europe as a spy. She was instrumental in foiling several foreign plots to destabilise Magical, and Muggle, England.
In 1955, she returned to England, having requested the transfer back home after almost being caught in a compromised raid. For the next four years she was assigned to one of the Auror rapid response teams until, in 1959, she fell pregnant with her only child, Frank Longbottom. After Maternity leave, she returned to the Auror office as the Auror in charge of Training. She had trained a number of the most famous Aurors, including Alistair Moody and Amelia Bones. After the death of Joseph Longbottom in 1964, Augusta retired as an Auror. After her retirement her every action had been for her son, and later grandson. The proudest day of her life after her retirement was the day Frank had graduated as an Auror.
She watched as Neville did an unarmed combat routine, recognising some of the moves from her undercover work and noting that he had changed some of the moves to take advantage of the more power and durability of his artificial left arm. For almost thirteen years, she had despaired at the timid nature of her Grandson, until the Lady Gryffindor had recruited him for the Order. New she saw the best of Frank and her beloved Joseph in her grandson, and admired his persistence to continue even after the loss of his arm.
After the incident at the Quiddich World Cup, the parents and Guardians of the original members of the Order had met to discuss what had happened to their children. Xeno Lovegood was as always a bit odd, but he trusted his daughter. Amos Diggory was concerned, yet proud that not only had his son protected the innocent, but was in a position of authority. Augusta's old student Amelia Bones was also proud of her Niece, both in the way she fought and the sound tactics Susan had used in the battle. Arthur Weasley was ambivalent about his three son's involvement. On the one hand he was fascinated with the muggle equipment they had and relieved that the Twins were showing some responsibility. On the other hand he was worried about their safety and what possible mischief they could get up to with their new training and confidence.
Augusta watched as Neville finished his workout and, drying the sweat off with a towel, made his way back into the Manor. She walked down to greet him in the main hall.
TBC…