Charmed
30 June 1998
His skin was clammy, his mouth watered, and his stomach clenched down as soon as Neville Longbottom opened his eyes. Rocketing out of bed in his childhood bedroom, Neville barely made it to the loo in time to reacquaint himself with what he'd eaten the day before.
Stop it.
Neville looked down at his shaking hands, feeling a sort of grim helplessness. He was not unused to this feeling; he had spent his seventh year at Hogwarts with it as his constant companion. Helpless against the Carrows, helpless against the war, stuck at school, not able to do anything... And now that Moody - Mad-Eye Moody, leader of the Order of the Phoenix - had deemed him acceptable enough to give him a very dangerous mission, he was frightened out of his bloody mind.
His grandmother's lace curtains billowed in the the early morning breeze. Despite it being summer, it was cold.
"What would Harry do," Neville tried to bolster his courage. Harry wouldn't be scared or timid. And if Harry hadn't been Undesirable Number One, wanted by both the Enforcers and the Death Eaters, Harry probably would have accepted Moody's assignment without a second thought.
Neville was on his seventeenth thought. I'm insane. This fact echoed in his mind as he pushed himself up off the bathroom floor, stumbled back into his room, and dressed. Forcing his heartbeat to calm, he deliberately pulled his best robes over his head. He refused to allow his fingers to tremble. After he finished, he stared out his window at the lovingly attended back garden. The roses could do with a trim, he thought critically.
Plants. Yes, plants.
He filled his thoughts with how he was going to one day spend all his time on magical horticulture. As he said goodbye to his grandmother, kissing her on her papery thin cheek, he planned out his own greenhouse. No, no, he told himself as he grabbed a bite of toast and headed for the floo. I mustn't keep the Screaming Violets next to the Flaming Roses... that wouldn't do...
He decided to walk from the Leaky Cauldron. Interspersed with thoughts about plants and horticulture and everything Neville loved, panic occasionally rolled over him, making him want to run for another bathroom. When Moody had first given him the assignment, Neville had thought he was joking... shouldn't something like that be given to someone slightly more competent? Moody had guessed his thoughts and had insisted, quite gruffly, that Neville was the best man for the job. This had buoyed him enough that Neville had told Moody yes, he'd do it, before he'd actually had a chance to think about it.
I'm insane, Neville moaned inwardly.
Neville was standing in front of the pimply faced security wizard just inside the Ministry of Magic before he even realized it.
"Blood status?" the young wizard - probably only a few years older than Neville himself - asked. He sounded bored, uninterested, but his eyes were keen.
"Pure," Neville responded promptly, trying to sound proud of it.
He arched a brow. "You sure about that?"
"No mud in my veins," Neville confirmed, offering a silent apology to Hermione Granger, Dean Thomas, and Colin Creevey, and his other friends who were Muggleborn.
"Business at the Ministry?"
Neville breathed out through his nostrils. "I'm here to see John Dawlish," he forced himself to say firmly. "I want - I'm going to be an Enforcer."
11 July 1998
ENFORCERS ENJOY EXPANSION IN NUMBERS
Ben Linus
It can only be explained by the recent Hogwarts graduation, but the year old Enforcer Squad (which replaced the Auror Department) has recently seen a vast increase in numbers. Sons and more than a few daughters from pure-blood families which typically pursued other professions have decided to join up as well (see "Pure-bloods and Politics: A Renaissance"). "Everyone here at the Ministry, and all pure-bloods in Britain, are quite pleased to see the increase in numbers," said Minister Pius Thicknesse.
The former Auror Headquarters are filled to bursting with recent Hogwarts graduates and others. "Yes, Madam Lestrange was very persuasive in her encouragement to join the Enforcer Squad," said Uther Dobbs, pure-blood, and distantly related to the Selwyn family. "I'm quite proud to do so," he added. The Enforcers differ from the Snatchers in several different ways (not least of which is truly superior blood-status), and a rigorous training regiment (not unlike the former Auror training, though vastly more effective) is required for all new Enforcers.
"We only hope that wise young people will continue to join," said Madam Bellatrix Lestrange, who has spent a significant amount of time recruiting wizards and witches to help protect the Ministry from terrorist organizations and Mudblood rebellions. "The future of Wizarding society is at stake, and we need every wand to join our cause."
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15 August 1998
Ginny waited until a few days after her seventeenth birthday to talk to Moody about joining the Order of the Phoenix. Just to keep her mother off the scent.
And if there had been anything that the Carrows had taught her during her sixth year at Hogwarts, it had been to be more patient and cunning... more like a Slytherin, she supposed. But regardless, she had spent the entire summer not talking about the Order of the Phoenix, and pretending that the war didn't exist.
It certainly made her mother happier.
The peace was kept. Ginny did not mention the dementor attacks (even when Mr. Fawcett had suffered the Dementor's Kiss), or the increasing amount of Muggle deaths, or indicate at all that she spent a significant amount of time around the corner from the kitchen, listening to the real news. She refused to talk about Harry, Ron, and Hermione (even though she thought about them all the time). And when she mentioned Fred and George, it was only to express the grief, and not to talk about the way they died.
Somehow, Ginny managed to fool her mother into thinking that the argument they'd had the year before (the one that had caused all the windows in the Burrow to need to be replaced) had been resolved. Molly Weasley no longer believed that Ginny was willing to risk life and limb to throw herself into the cause for which the rest of her family fought.
If Mum really believes that, she deserves to be lied to.
Her chance came several days after her birthday, when the summer holidays were waning, and it was almost time to pack her trunk and return to school. And the Carrows. The scar on her shoulder twitched a little when she thought about Hogwarts, and she almost walked right by Moody sitting at the kitchen table, her mother nowhere in sight.
Not only was Molly Weasley not in sight, but Ginny knew for a fact that she'd be gone for at least another hour.
She paused outside the door to the kitchen, watching him carefully. Moody looked a lot older than the last time she'd seen him. A livid scar slashed across his cheek, joining the rest of his souvenirs from the war with Voldemort, and from being an Auror. He rubbed his knee, his mouth falling open in what Ginny knew to be a private gesture of pain.
Not wanting to watch, she strode in. "Mr. Moody," she said differentially, not knowing quite what to call him? Mad-Eye seemed too informal... she couldn't exactly call him Professor Moody - he'd never actually been her professor.
"Call me Mad-Eye," he said gruffly, not even looking at her.
Just do it.
"I want to join the Order of the Phoenix," Ginny said strongly. He didn't look at her, and annoyance rose up inside her. "I'm seventeen years old, and I know you wanted an insider's perspective at Hogwarts - and not a professor's - which is why you let Neville and the others join last year. And I want to do the same this year. I-"
"Your mother said you weren't interested," Mad-Eye said, keeping his eyes on his knee. "Says you don't talk about it anymore. If this is some frivolous-"
"I am not frivolous," Ginny said sharply. The Burrow's kitchen seemed very small and hot all of a sudden; the back of her neck burned, as did the tips of her ears. "I've been wanting to join for years. My mother doesn't seem to think I'm capable of it," she added bitterly. Moody turned his head, an unreadable expression in his eyes. "I've been part of Dumbledore's Army since my fourth year; I fought at the Ministry of Magic-"
"You don't need to list your qualifications to me, Ginevra-"
"Call me Ginny-"
"Ginny, then," he said. "The fact of the matter is, your mother would kill me-"
"I don't care about my mother!" Ginny almost yelled. "I'm of age, and I'm damned sick and tired of hearing about everyone I love dying and in danger while I'm protected!" She blew out a furious breath, certain that her cheeks were bright red. Fred and George's words echoed back at her.
Prove Mum wrong, Gin.
Yeah. She hasn't a clue what you're capable of.
Maybe you should show her your Bat-Bogey Hex. She'd come around, then.
"All right," said Moody.
"What?" Ginny said blankly. "What? All right? You're going to let me join?"
"It isn't all fun and games, but I expect you know that," he said, magical eye whizzing around before coming to rest on her. She remained motionless under the scrutiny. "And you'll have to agree to certain terms - that's what I've come to talk to your mother about, and your father - that may seem... restrictive to you. I got the idea from Harry's house-elf..."
"I'll do anything," said Ginny.
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02 September 1998
Surprisingly, it was Hermione that objected most strongly to Mad-Eye Moody's new security measures. Harry had been a little taken aback, Ron had grimaced but didn't have a strong opinion either way.
Hermione was still raging, two hours later. "It's completely ludicrous," she said scathingly. Harry was glad that she wasn't still pacing back and forth - the relentless motion around the otherwise empty war room at Grimmauld Place had begun to make him dizzy. "There's no reason why-"
"Dedalus Diggle," Harry said quietly. It was true that the measures were harsh. But Moody's increased paranoia had been in direct response to Dedalus Diggle being taken by the Enforcers, handed over to the Death Eaters, and killed. But before Diggle had died, the Enforcers had rounded up Diggle's sister, brother, and their families. No one had survived; in one night, an entire extended family had been wiped off the earth.
The Death Eaters and Enforcers (though Harry thought of them as one and the same) had begun to take extremely harsh members against any Order members they found.
"It's excessive," Hermione said after a moment's pause.
Harry could not argue that. Moody had confided in Harry that he'd been inspired by Kreacher's obedience to Harry. The compulsion charms on the house elf were very effective. And so too were the charms now placed on Order members. Harry's thoughts drifted, and he stared at the objects floating in mid-air around the room. Snakeskin had joined the diary and the ring, to Harry's grim satisfaction. Nagini had attempted to ambush him, Ron, and Hermione when they went to Godric's Hollow.
But Nagini had been the one to die.
"If this will better protect people, then I'm for it," said Harry.
"You realize that now you won't be able to talk to anyone about the Order-"
"Who would we talk to?" Ron asked.
"Your parents, for one," Hermione shot back. "Remus, Tonks, Kingsley, Neville... our friends."
Ron stared broodingly down at his hands. Harry couldn't blame him. Ron's large family had lost two members, and the rest of them, they only saw sporadically. Percy was still apparently working for the Ministry (what he was doing with full ownership of WWW, Harry had no idea). Neither Harry, Ron, nor Hermione had even seen Ginny since they had left with the Order after Dumbledore's funeral. "I never see them anyway," Ron said. "My family, I mean."
"And now thanks to Moody, even if we did run into them here, we still wouldn't have a clue who they were," Hermione told him.
"We haven't been here very often anyway," Ron argued. "I've only seen Dad here once..."
Harry couldn't lie. The idea of the two charms Moody had placed over them was slightly disturbing. The first charm ensured that they would always be in disguise whenever they were carrying out Order business. The second stopped them from speaking about the Order. The charms are absolute, Moody had said. It's the same kind of thing with the house-elves. Except that you won't be able to break it... there will be no need to punish yourselves for disobeying. You simply won't be able to do it.
If Order members were caught by Death Eaters or Enforcers, they would not be able to tell them anything. And the Death Eaters would have no idea who they were, so there would be no chance for repercussions to befall innocents.
Moody's methods were extreme, but Harry couldn't fault his reasoning. He leaned back in his chair. "We don't have a choice, Hermione," Harry told her. "The charms have already been cast on us."
"And at least we can still talk to each other," said Ron.
Hermione's face set in mulish lines, and she flung her bushy hair away from her face. She looked very young, and Harry found it hard to believe that she would have her twentieth birthday in a few days.
"It's going to go badly," she announced.
"What else is new?" muttered Ron.
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23 November 1998
Draco Malfoy's silvery hair stood out like a beacon. Ginny noticed it immediately, even though the sun was lowering itself behind the mountains surrounding Hogwarts. Suddenly, she was not in so much of a hurry. What the hell is he doing here? Seeing him again was like having her stomach filled with acid, and sheremembered that his father had been responsible for the wards around St. Mungo's - Fred and George's deaths-
Stop, she ordered herself. Breathing slowly through her nose, she watched as Draco made his way down the path toward the Forbidden Forest. Another figure joined him. Squinting, she recognized Amycus Carrow's lumpy nose and potato-shaped body, and for a moment, anger tingled across her skin.
In an instant, her decision was made, and she changed course. Instead of going to the Gryffindor common room like a good little girl, she turned on her heel and, bypassing a giggling crowd of first years, she headed toward the doors that led outside. The November air was cold and dipping down to frigid; goosebumps pebbled her skin, and she hugged her cloak tighter to her body, and hurried along in the direction of Malfoy and Carrow. Soon she was skirting the outside of the Forbidden Forest. The wind rustled in the leaves, and brought snatches of conversation to her ears.
"He said that you were to do it alone, didn't he?" Carrow said smugly.
"Don't be a fool," was Malfoy's reply.
Ginny smiled grimly at the fear the bastard couldn't hide. Draco Malfoy had always been a coward; he took after his father, that bugger. The words drifted away from her and she edged closer, feeling the familiar compulsion to change her appearance. It was like Moody's voice yelling in her ear, and Ginny took a moment to marvel at the fact that shehad to obey it, even when she technically wasn't on official Order business. After she'd given herself the shifting form, she whispered the spell that would muffle her footsteps. She contemplated casting a Disillusionment Charm over herself, but night was coming fast, and she was far enough away from them to be safe.
She edged closer, hugging close to trees. Malfoy mumbled something as Carrow headed away from him, and a light flared suddenly. Ginny watched him look to the left and the right, and then behind him. His features were drawn in an unpleasant mix of anger, disdain, and fear. Then, uncertainly, he headed forward, deeper into the forest, his wandlight bobbing out in front of him.
The chill grew more intense, and Ginny realized that he must be giving a message to the dementors that guarded the school, ensuring that no one got in or out through the more conventional means. Grimacing (dementors were the creatures Ginny hated most besides Death Eaters), she continued on. The presence of the creatures grew stronger with every step, like a frozen weight on her chest.
She stopped when she was just close enough to hear Malfoy.
"-haven't found out for certain," Draco said, voice thready and thin. "But the Dark Lord is most displeased that someone so high up in the Ministry is a Mudblood."
A huge shadow loomed closer to Malfoy, causing his small light to flicker and die. But if the dementor answered him in words, Ginny couldn't hear it. She'd never actually heard one speak, but she thought they could.
Malfoy continued on. "A Mudblood at the Ministry after all this time... Father says that ifhe had been appointed Minister instead of that fool Thicknesse, all the Mudbloods would've been weeded out months ago and-"
The dementor rattled and hissed.
Malfoy squeaked and jumped back. He automatically pretended that the motion was deliberate, and glanced down at his nails. "Father would have been an excellent Minister," he mumbled. "But the Dark Lord told me to tell you that if the kid's father is a Mudblood - which we are almost certain he is - then you can give the kid a Kiss."
Ginny clapped her hand over her mouth, revulsion rippling over her skin. Give me the name of the kid, give me the name of the kid, she chanted.
Even though her command had been silent, Malfoy obeyed anyway. "Barrow is a first year," he said. "You can have her soul, the Dark Lord wants to make an example of her. But only if she really is a Mudblood. We don't want to waste pure blood." There were a few more moments of conversation, then Amycus Carrow was backing away. Malfoy turned to go back to the castle.
Ginny followed him numbly, horrified at what she had just heard. A first year, she kept repeating to herself. Eleven years old, and they want to tear out her soul... make an example... It disgusted her, but at the same time it reinforced the fact that it was right to have joined the Order of the Phoenix, if only to save Barrow from a fate worse than death. Ginny thought she might now her: a small dark shadow who had been Sorted into Gryffindor. Ginny remembered thinking it was one of the more... unusual choices the Hat had made. But good God. A Muggle-born at Hogwarts needed courage as vast as the sea.
So intent was she on her thoughts that it was only very quick reflexes developed by hours on a broom dodging Bludgers that helped her dodge the first spell. Ginny dropped and the tree behind her burst into flame-
"I know you're there!" Malfoy shouted. "Come out - you don't want to anger me, I'm a Death Eater!"
For a frozen instant, Ginny did nothing but crouch on the ground, listening to her own breath. He took three half steps toward her. I can just take away his memories, she thought. The decision took an instant, and she stood, wand raised-
"Crucio!" he yelled.
And instead of stealing his memory of her or something similar, the sound of the Unforgivable coming from his lips on top of his indifference toward an eleven year old child, Ginny shrieked, "Reducto!" even as she dodged Malfoy's curse.
He was not as quick as she was. The force of her spell lifted him off his feet and sent him spinning backward, tumbling head over foot, grunting.
Snap!
His body hit the tree behind him with great force, and the moment it happened, Ginny knew that he was dead. Still, she waited, but the lump that was Draco Malfoy did not move, nor make a sound. She moved closer, considering the possibility that he could just be unconscious or even pretending, ready to ambush her if she drew close enough-
No. He's dead.
Ginny didn't know why she was so certain, but she was...
Finally, she was close enough to see him. His eyes were open and sightless; his mouth gaped, and the side of his face was torn apart and bloody. His neck had almost snapped in two-
I've killed him, Ginny thought, stunned. She'd killed him in one instant. Her spell,her wand.
She turned her head and vomited, and heaved up the contents of her stomach until it was completely empty, and she just retched. Pressing her hand to her lips, she realized that her entire body was trembling violently... she wanted nothing more than to sit down and let the tremors subside... but would they?
Dead.
The word echoed in her head, and she didn't know how long she stood there, staring at the body, totally uncertain about how she should be feeling and acting. Her feet were rooted to the spot and it was almost as if she was just another tree in the Forbidden Forest... a silent witness and not a killer... "I-" she said to no one. But she couldn't continue, and slowly it came to her that she needed to leave this place before someone else came along. Carrow might come looking for Draco... a centaur could come across this place, or the dementors could find them.
She lifted her feet - they felt heavy and numb - and took a step. And then another, and another until she was well on her way out of the forest, back to the castle, toward Barrow so that she could get him out of Hogwarts, and, most of all, away from Malfoy's body.
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01 December 1998
DRACO MALFOY, DEAD
Benjamin Linus
A spokeswizard from the Enforcement Squad (see "Why Aurors Should Have Been Replaced by Enforcers a Long Time Ago," page 3) told the Daily Prophet last night that Draco Malfoy, scion of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, and nephew to Bellatrix Lestrange, was killed at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. "We're not sure if it was a wild, magical creature or a member of the terrorist organization, the Order of the Phoenix," said Ethan Rom, head investigator on the sensational case. "It's almost certain that it was a rogue centaur, or even an acromantula, but it's best not to just assume, right? We've got to make sure it wasn't a wizard, right?"
Severus Snape, Headmaster of Hogwarts, has, of course, taken a personal interest in the case. "There are no members of the Order of the Phoenix on Hogwarts grounds," he told us early this morning. "I would never tolerate it, and neither would the dementors. The Forbidden Forest has long been a place for violent magical creatures - our former gameskeeper saw to that. It was a deeply unfortunate accident. If one wants to blame a human, blame Amycus Carrow, who allowed young Draco to seek out the dementors unescorted." When asked why Draco Malfoy was on the school grounds, Headmaster Snape only offered a succinct, "Ministry business."
As to Amycus Carrow-
"What do you want to bet old Lucius killed him?" Ron asked, sounding grimly satisfied.
Harry glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. The twins' deaths had shaken
Ron deeply. Not that Ron would not have professed delight that Draco Malfoy was dead (and likely Amycus Carrow) before Fred and George had been caught in the web at St. Mungo's. But there was no hint of bravado on Ron's face or in his tone. He was not disturbed in the slightest at the deaths.
And neither was Harry. Draco was young, yes, but he'd murdered Dumbledore and who knew who else.
"Carrow will probably disappear, just like Scrimgeour did," observed Harry. It amazed him how little the Daily Prophet managed to get right. None of the buggering reporters even bothered to investigate; they just repeated whatever line the Death Eaters and the Ministry told them.
"Another two down," Ron said casually, leaning up against the sofa and slinging his arm over the back of it.
Hermione let out a small sigh. Harry looked away when he saw the genuine worry on her face as she gazed at her boyfriend. It was too intimate, seeing her concern for Ron. She didn't say anything, for which Harry was grateful. Hermione had already expressed her opinion quite a lot over the past several months.
Though she's been strangely silent ever since Tutshill, Harry thought. Almost twomonths prior, Moody had sent them on a mission to flush out a few Death Eaters who were engaged in illicit poison trade. It had ended with dueling in the air, during which Ron was responsible for the deaths of two Death Eaters. Ron had sat up outside the tent, keeping watch, for almost two days straight.
Harry ignored the pang in his stomach, though the stray thought that Ron was now a hero (according to Kingsley Shacklebolt) and very wealthy (thanks to Fred and George's will) crossed his mind. It made him strangely sad that Ron had gotten what he'd thought he wanted for so long, only to find it as empty as Harry did.
"Where are you going?" Hermione asked, startled.
Harry blinked, completely unaware that he'd stood up. "Er - out," he told her, ruffling his hair. "Just... outside."
"Going to go push out a few tears over Malfoy?" Ron asked.
"Yeah, that's right," Harry grinned. "I wanted to have a good cry without you two looking on."
It was probably good that Harry had given the two of them some privacy; they got precious little of it, and were sometimes forced to do... whatever they did under the covers (Harry had no interest in finding out how far the couple had gotten) while he was actually in the room. Not for the first time, Harry wished that they could return to Grimmauld Place whenever they wanted. That way Hermione could help Ron with his aggression without Harry having to listen to it.
But not just that. He missed Grimmauld Place as it had been before Moody had placed the compulsion charms on them. Two little spells, and all the camaraderie had gone out of the Order. Even if they went back to Sirius' old home, they wouldn't know the people who were there.
Harry sat down, cross-legged, outside the entrance of the tent and looked into the night.
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17 December 1998
Harry, Ron, and Hermione had not heard word from anyone. Moody did not attempt to contact them, and their little tent was so full of tension and the desire to act, to do something - anything - that Harry had a nearly constant headache.
"I wish we could just fucking do something!" Ron said loudly. He paced the tent like a caged tiger, in constant motion.
Harry stared moodily at his wand, feeling Hermione's stern gaze on the back of his neck. Harry wanted to start talking loudly and venting his frustration, too. But they couldn't both go off at the same time. The last time they'd both lost their tempers - at the situation, not at each other - they'd blown up the section of forest they'd been living in.
Apparently, that was a bad thing.
According to Hermione.
The feeling of dissatisfaction just kept growing, with every moment they spent trapped in the tent, and not out whittling away at Voldemort's forces, or looking for the damn Horcruxes. It hit Ron especially hard, Harry knew. But that didn't mean that he should be forced to always hold in his temper-
"I agree, Ron," Harry said firmly.
"Harry-" Hermione said warningly.
"I just think that-"
"I know," Harry cut across him. "You want to be out doing something, destroying You-Know-Who, not sitting in this little tent-"
"Listen-"
"It's fucking mental," Ron fairly roared. "We're sitting here having tea and biscuits while - while... people are getting killed." He grabbed the cup off the little wooden table, and pretended to sip at it. "Yes, Ronald," he said in a shrill voice. "Let's have another cup... You-Know-Who has his ugly hands wrapped around our throats, but let's have some tea-"
Harry knew it was bad when Ron started mocking random things. Especially when it was food related, something Ron generally took very seriously.
"It's better than not having anything," Hermione pointed out fairly.
This did not help. Harry could have told her it wouldn't have.
"Yeah, and let's think of who doesn't have anything," Ron said scornfully. "Muggleborns, Muggles, members of the Order, I'm sure-"
"You aren't the only one who wants to take action!" Hermione said.
Harry almost fell off his chair. Without him knowing it, Hermione had apparently lost her temper right along with Ron. High spots of color had appeared in her cheeks, and her eyes flashed dangerously. Even her hair seemed bushier than ever, as though Hermione's rage had made it stand up on ends.
"Well, you're the one constantly holding us back-"
"Oh, is that it, Ron?" Hermione asked snidely. "Am I keeping you from going out and doing something rash because I'm bossy, or a know-it-all?"
Harry winced, wishing that the tent was large enough so that he could make a full retreat. The awful sarcasm in her voice never boded well, and Harry wished he didn't have to be in such close proximity to both the fighting, and then the inevitable make-up sex. Glumly, he realized that he was going to have a very long night, huddled outside keeping watch.
"You're a-"
"Shut up!" Ron snapped, holding up his hand.
"Don't you-"
"I mean it," he said. "Listen."
Blinking, Harry turned to where Ron was now pointing: toward the flap of the tent. Snatches of a conversation reached his ears, and Harry's heart immediately started thudding with excitement. Adrenaline surged through his body, and he exchanged a grin with Ron.
"-still get paid?"
"I assume so," said a man.
"They'd better," said the first voice, huffing. "I hate the Enforcers-"
Unbelievably, Harry felt disappointed that whoever was talking was against the Enforcers-
"They're always stealing pay from us," the second man agreed. "Just glorified bloody Aurors, if you ask me. When's the last time they rounded up a Mudblood, eh? No, it's the cushy jobs for them-"
"Arses," the first man spat.
"Snatchers," Ron said happily.
"Don't go charging out yet," Hermione said, all anger faded from her voice. " Homenum Revelio," she whispered the spell that would tell them how many peoplewere outside their tent. Despite the fact that the protective charms around the tent were obviously working, she did not speak again, but held up two fingers. And almost without thinking about it, Harry lifted his wand and cast the charm that would give his appearance a fluidity... he would not be recognized...
"Let's go," said Ron, after he too had changed his appearance. Hermione was a second behind the two of them, but less than a minute after they'd heard the Snatchers, they were ready to fight.
The Snatchers were not quite as stupid as they sounded. As soon as Harry, Ron, and Hermione stepped across the protective charms surrounding the tent, one of the Snatchers ducked, and the second sent a curse at them. Ron pulled Hermione out of the way just in time: Instead of hitting her, it sailed off into the trees.
"Stupefy!" shouted Harry. The man who had crouched down did not roll away in time. His body fell over heavily, knocking into the second man's knees, distracting him enough that Ron's curse struck him right in the belly. With a little moan of pain, the man's broad face crumpled, and he scrabbled at his stomach before he too fell to the ground.
"That was George's favorite curse," Ron said, kicking out and catching the stunned man in knee. He didn't move.
Harry sniffed, and made a disgusted face. The smell of feces was suddenly very strong. "Why am I not surprised that George's favorite curse would make someone shit themselves?" Harry asked.
Ron's smile didn't reach his eyes. "You should see Fred's favorite..."
"What are we going to do with them?" Hermione asked, nose wrinkled, and obviously breathing through her mouth. "We're not going to kill them," she added.
"Snap their wands," said Ron.
"We need to take them out, though," Harry said thoughtfully. He hated the idea of killing two men in cold blood - he wouldn't ever do that - but he also didn't want to just let them go back to being Snatchers, and a part of Voldemort's force. "Otherwise we might as well have just stayed in the tent."
"Do you think they'd know who killed Fred and George?" Ron asked casually.
"We can question them," Hermione pointed out.
Harry stared at her, considering. What if... "What if we did to them what you did to your parents?" Harry asked. "After we question them, we can just give them different-"
"-Identities?" Hermione said. "It's a thought... but it'll take quite some time. Charms like that are easily broken if they aren't thorough enough. And I'd really like to brush up on the theory of it - oh, I wish we could talk to Snape, he'd know exactly how to go about it-"
"I just want to find out who killed them," Ron said grimly.
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08 January 1999
ENFORCERS TO BUILD NEW COMPOUND
Ben Linus
Minister Thicknesse announced today that the problem of over-crowding in the Enforcer Department at the Ministry of Magic has been solved. Instead of not accepting new applicants - an idea that frightens many of us (see "The Best Defense is a Good Offense," page 5) - the Enforcers have acquired a small island, where they will train, house, and office the enterprising young wizards and witches, who have decided to dedicate their lives to the safety of the Wizarding World.
"It's already being built," said John Dawlish, now Head of the Enforcer Department. "This plan has been in the works since Madam Lestrange began recruiting for our new department. She's very persuasive, and we knew that wizards and witches would want to join up. It was inevitable." While the exact name of the island will not be disclosed, it is in the Orkney Island chain. Enforcer Headquarters will remain at the Ministry of Magic, but the majority of the operations will take place from the new compound.
"I think it's a really good idea," said Neville Longbottom, who has been an Enforcer since his graduation from Hogwarts. "It's gotten a bit crowded down at the Ministry." He described working in two hour shifts, and the fact that not every Enforcer is able to have a desk, but must share with three to six other people. In fact (continued on page 3)
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13 February 1999
"Remind me why St. Mungo's is so bloody important," Neville muttered.
The corridors echoed with their footsteps. Neville was no stranger to the hospital
he had visited his parents often throughout the years, not to mention he'd earned a bed of his own with all of his childish mishaps - but it was damn eerie to see it so empty. This was his sixth time patrolling the halls, and it still struck him. Three quarters of the rooms were empty. A lot of the healers had left, either because they were Muggleborn, or because they refused to work under You-Know-Who's conditions.
"Didn't they go over that in training?" Enforcer Lucas Savage looked over at him.
Neville scrubbed a hand over his face, exhausted just thinking about the almost four months of daily hell. "A bit," he admitted. Mostly it had been defensive and offensive magic, duel practice, stealthiness, and all the other skills that being an Enforcer required.
"That's right," said Savage. "I forgot that they don't exactly teach current events in the classroom-"
"It wasn't a classroom," said Neville. "It was an old courtroom at the Ministry, and we-"
"Trifles," Savage said. "I know you got the same training I did," he added. "Enforcer training is almost the same as Auror training, and we sure as hell didn't learn about current events," he told him. "Not that there was much to talk about when I was in training, but..." his voice trailed away, and Neville kept his gaze fixed on the far wall. They moved steadily forward, wands held out.
"Enforcer Dawlish allowed me to use his training manual," Neville offered, when he realized that Savage was wary of him. It was laughable, that an Enforcer was afraid of saying something treasonous to an undercover member of the Order of the Phoenix.
"Regardless," Savage said strongly. "Listen," he stopped in the middle of the hall.
A mediwitch peered around the corner, eyeing them, before disappearing again. "St.
Mungo's is almost as important as even the Ministry or Hogwarts in terms of
strategic importance. The Ministry, because that's where the government
is"-Neville highly doubted that. Thicknesse may be the Minister, but Voldemort was
in charge. Wherever he was, there was the government-"and if any... terrorist
organization got control of it-"
Which was, in Neville's mind, exactly what had happened.
"-that would give them a huge advantage," Savage continued. He opened a door, and then pulled it closed after checking to make sure no one was lurking in an empty room. "Hogwarts is another place of importance, and not just because the Undesirable Number One is somewhat likely to return there, but because it is a place where habits and ideas are formed, and knowledge is imparted. Which is why we have security there almost as tight as here at St. Mungo's, and why we have those closely aligned with the power in this country teaching sensitive subjects."
Neville had to admire how delicately Savage put it. Alecto Carrow was closely aligned with the power in this country, all right - she was a Death Eater. And her brother had been replaced with another Death Eater. Defense Against the Dark Arts was no more; the Dark Arts reigned. First years were learning in Muggle Studies that those without magic were inferior, and not even human. It made him sick.
"And St. Mungo's?" Neville asked easily. They reached the end of the corridor and turned, almost as one.
"St. Mungo's has healing supplies, potions, and other things that anyone hoping to fight in a war would need," Savage said simply. "Not only that, but consider the location. London - near the Ministry of Magic. If a... terrorist organization was to seize control of it, it not only has the supplies it needs to keep going, but it has an advantageous location as well. Which is why we have so many different wards surrounding the place-"
"Wards?" Neville asked, surprised. He'd only heard of one here: the Web, as Seamus Finnegan had called it.
"Only one of them is really used," said Savage. "The rest are only there as a back up plan. No one wants to explain to him that we let his enemies in."
Neville nodded, wondering if Voldemort's allies were actually more afraid of him than his enemies.
