A Stranger in an Unholy Land

by serpant-sorcerer

PART I: Days before his 6th year, Harry Potter is sucked into another universe by forces not of this world. Dazed and confused, Harry finds himself in a world where his parents are alive, where Voldemort has never fallen and he is Voldemort's key enforcer

12. And the Truth Shall Set You Free

WIZARDING TIMES: In a stunning turn of events, the war came to a dramatic conclusion last night. The wizard calling himself Lord V…you know who I mean was arrested by Aurors in London's East End shortly before midnight last night. He now awaits trial and execution in a Class Three detention cell. His capture marks the end of a war that has plagued our society for years and ushers in a new era of peace. Harry wishes it were true, but there are things that don't make sense. Something is rotten in the state of Denmark, and if someone doesn't speak now, the whole country will forever hold its peace. But then again, actions speak louder than words.

Chapter XII

And You Shall Know the Truth,
and the Truth Shall Set You Free

"Many that live deserve death.
And some die that deserve life.
Can you give it to them?
Then be not too eager to deal out death
in the name of justice,
fearing for your own safety.
Even the wise
cannot see all ends."

Gandalf (Ian McKellen) – The Lord of the Rings

YOU-KNOW-WHO ARRESTED!

THE WAR IS OVER!

The war that has decimated our lives for over two decades came to a dramatic end last night as Aurors Kingsley Shacklebolt and Alastor Moody placed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named under arrest. In a stunning turn of events, the war that seemed to have been lost has just been won. Following an anonymous tip, Aurors raided an abandoned warehouse in the London Docklands area. Four Aurors and eleven Death Eaters were killed in the battle, but the Dark Lord himself was arrested alive, and at this moment is safe and sound inside a Ministry holding cell awaiting trial.

"Ladies and gentlemen," said Minister Crouch in a statement last night. "We finally got him!" There was a joyous atmosphere in the Ministry yesterday as the Minster told the press how Aurors received an anonymous tip off and raided the property in East London in the evening hours of yesterday. While there were casualties on both sides, this mission can be seen as a success as it brought about the end of a war that has plagued our community for decades.

You-Know-Who, real name Tom Riddle, is in a class three cell awaiting trial before the Wizengamot for crimes against humanity, the state and the crown. The date is yet to be set, but for now, know that the country is once again safe. The 17th of November will from now on be a public holiday in memory of those who gave their lives in this war.

Harry couldn't read anymore. This stank to high heaven, in his opinion. What was Voldemort doing in prison and more importantly, why now? This was part of his plan, it had to be, but what did he have to gain by it? Harry knew from his conversation last week with Crouch that the Prophet only printed half of what actually happened. Politics was what Crouch called it, though Harry thought 'BS' was more apt. Harry knew there was more to this than met the eye. He slammed down the paper in frustration.

"Come on, Grumpy-Pants," said Seamus, biting into a piece of bacon. "We got him, it's over. Better yet, it's party time." Harry was sitting at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. He had been invited down three days ago and ever since had had breakfast, at least, with the rest of the school. He was still skirted in the corridors when he ventured out, but the Gryffindors were beginning to warm to him. His presence at Rose's exoneration party had helped to gain their trust.

Harry shot Seamus a glare, before turning back to the paper. He scowled down at the image of Voldemort standing calmly between Kingsley and Mad-Eye. Ten Aurors were present, wands drawn, but they weren't aimed at Voldemort. It was like a hunting photo, with the catch laid out in front of the hunters. They were posing as if they had won a prize. Cretins! Did they not see the danger they were in? It was like Fudge all over again. There was still danger out there and he knew it, but it was easier to sit back and do nothing, to save themselves the hassle. How many lives would pay for this stupidity?

"Come on, Harry," said Hermione, putting down her own copy. "I know this isn't how you thought it would end, but cheer up. It's over."

Harry glanced around in disgust. All over the hall, everyone was smiling broadly, reading the paper. The noise level was higher than ever and someone even set of fireworks to celebrate, much to the annoyance of McGonagall.

Idiots! cursed Harry to himself.

"Hermione's right, Harry," said Rose to his right. "Let it go."

"Aren't you glad he's been caught?" asked Ron, his mouth full of hash browns.

"Actually," said Harry irritably "I'd rather he was still out there." Ron froze at his response and several heads turned. That might have been a little loud. He realised just how bad that had sounded - as if he was siding with Voldemort. Several people who had turned were watching him closely. He lowered his voice and leaned forward to whisper.

"Ron," said Harry. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded. I just think that there's more to this than meets the eye."

"Like what?" asked Ron.

"Have you ever seen the memorial wall at the Ministry?" asked Harry. A wall was not entirely accurate - it was a room with four walls covered in names of fallen Aurors. "How many Aurors have died trying to get close to Voldemort?" – Ron cringed at the name – "The inner circle has never been infiltrated, to my knowledge. How many men have duelled with Voldemort and lived to tell the tale? We all thought it would take an army to bring him down but it took just two strike teams. He had only twenty Death Eaters with him. There was no protection, it was no contest for the Aurors." He left out that the Inner Circle had been penetrated by the resident Potions Master as he didn't trust some of the others who were listening.

"We caught him off guard," said Ron. "We got lucky." Harry smiled - Ron's hopeless optimism was somehow amusing. Harry realised that he used to think like that. Now he thought like a soldier and a killer. He had changed so much in the last few months – changes that could never be undone.

"A man like Voldemort doesn't make mistakes," said Harry, ignoring the gasp from Rose and those close enough to hear. He knew for a fact how patient Voldemort could be, how cold and calculating. He engineering the entire Triwizard Tournament to catch him, and then sent him dreams for the best part of a year because he didn't want to fetch the Prophecy himself, and all this after waiting thirteen years to get his body back. There was no way he would be so clumsy and get caught so easily. He'd have a plan b, c, d, and e to make sure he didn't stay in custody long, but it had been over ten hours.

"He is never 'off-guard'," continued Harry. "He carries an emergency Portkey at all times. He could have killed the entire strike team if he had wanted to. I've seen him duel with Dumbledore and trust me, it is not easy to equal him, let alone best him. He has made no move to escape; he surrendered to Aurors whom he could have killed. He only took four with him. There has been no attempt to break him out, or to rescue him, despite the fact that the inner circle are still out there."

"It's only been ten hours," said Ginny.

"He'd have a plan ready to go at a moment's notice," said Harry. "Like chess. He thinks many moves ahead."

"Death Eaters could be planning it as we speak," said Lavender, butting into the conversation from next to Ron. "But we'll be ready when they do."

"Lavender, sweetie," said Harry, "think about it. An anonymous tip; there is one hell of a bounty on his head - ten million galleons for information leading to his capture. Why tip off the Ministry but not give a name or collect the reward?"

"They could be afraid of revenge by Death Eaters," said Lavender, defending her position.

"Lavender has a point," said Hermione. "A reward is no good if you aren't alive to spend it, and as you said, the inner circle are still out there."

"Then why turn him in in the first place?" asked Harry. "That takes courage, a risk with no gain is pointless. This is such a risk that the gain must have been phenomenal, but whoever made the tip didn't collect the reward, and then Voldemort is captured by a force he could have killed easily with his army? No, this was set up. He has made no attempt to escape, and his Death Eaters have done nothing. He is there because he wants to be there. It must be part of his plan. I want to know why. He is in the heart of the Ministry, past all the security checks, and under guard. With all his spies he could leave his cell and go anywhere. He could escape at any time. He is patient. He waited thirteen years for…something to happen. He is there for a reason, and until we know what it is, I won't sleep easy. He will know what we would do to him. He knows he will get a public trial because Crouch will want to gloat. He could be counting on that to get him before the Wizengamot."

"You're reaching, Harry," said Ron, shaking his head. "Can't you just accept that we got him and it's over?"

"It's never over!" snapped Harry. "I don't believe in luck or coincidence. Men like Voldemort don't give up. He will continue the cause until the day he dies. Trust me, I know him. This is far from over. I just hope Crouch realises this. If we get complacent now, we may lose everything. We have a chance, now he's in custody. We need to limit his influence and strike out at his accomplices. If Crouch squanders this window of opportunity, we are completely screwed."

"I hate to say it," said Rose, "but I agree with Harry. This is too simple." Harry looked over at her. Her brow was furrowed in thought. "I wish it were true, but something's amiss."

"Let's say you're right," said Ginny. "Let's say this is part of his plan; you're never going to convince Crouch of it. Look at the man's pride. At the moment, he is the man of the hour, along with Shacklebolt and Moody. He won't let you rain on his parade, so what are you planning to do?" Good point, thought Harry. What could he do? He had no power to compete with Crouch. If Crouch even did grant Harry an audience, he would never listen to reason. He was a man of honour, but also of pride. He was better than Fudge, but he also was a politician and would not want to risk his career by announcing that it was not over, especially after the Prophet raised their hopes. He would be committing political suicide if he took that back and said the war was still on. Harry needed some help here.

"Firstly," said Harry. "I'm going to Dumbledore. Let's see what the wisest man on earth has to say."

Harry got up and marched out of the room, nearly walking straight into little Professor Flitwick on the way out, but jumped aside just in time. He jogged up to the Headmaster's office, his copy of the Prophet under his arm. He arrived at the gargoyles to find them already aside. As expected, the Headmaster had company. Harry pushed open the door and entered the room without knocking and saw that Dumbledore was in a conference with the inner circle of the Order; Flamel, Snape and McGonagall were there with Kingsley, Madam Bones, Dawlish, Moody and Arthur Weasley. They were sitting around the Headmaster's desk on which a copy of the Prophet was laid out. Fawkes, who had been asleep with his head under his wing when Harry entered, looked up and called out to him. Must be his Phoenix presence.

"This is a private meeting, Potter," said Snape coldly.

"Then why did you leave the gargoyle open when you arrived?" Harry replied just as icily. "You don't really believe this is real, do you?" he asked, holding up the Prophet. Kingsley's face flickered briefly and Harry realised exactly how badly that sounded. He quickly stumbled an apology. "No offence, Kingsley, good job, sorry about your men, but there's more to this."

"We agree, Mr Potter," said Kingsley calmly, his voice level and his fingers interlocked in front of his chest. "I may be Crouch's new Golden Boy, but I'm not stupid. I know I could not have taken him in a duel, but what the papers are not saying is that there was no duel. He surrendered as I approached him." The words echoed in Harry's mind. His jaw dropped.

"He what?" asked Harry. Voldemort gave up without a fight? That definitely meant something was wrong. Kingsley glanced at Dumbledore, who nodded. Taking it as a sign to elaborate, Kingsley began again.

"He killed the first two who tried to take him by force," explained Kingsley, bowing his head. "His Death Eaters seemed to make a half-hearted attempt to duel. We took as many as we could, but within a minute they were running to the doors and windows. They fled rather than rallied to their master. I thought at the time that this was a little odd, on the grounds that if they did escape, You-Know-Who would punish them for deserting him, so why were they running? Anyhow, with them gone, we had You-Know-Who cornered. I approached him and identified myself."

"You told him your name?" asked Harry, unable to understand the logic.

"I mean I shouted to him that I was an Auror and that he was under arrest," said Kingsley, chuckling slightly. Harry felt a little stupid but managed to keep from blushing. He glanced at Flamel who smiled slightly, while Snape gave him the customary 'idiot child' glare. "I told him he was under arrest, that there were anti-Apparation wards all around the building. I told him to drop his wand and lie down with his hands behind his head."

"He obeyed?" asked Harry.

"Not quite," said Kingsley, sighing. "His exact words were, 'Well done, Master Auror, tonight will guarantee you a place in the History books'. Then he held out his hands, and said, 'Come and claim your prize.' With the others covering me, I stepped forward. I thought he'd at least try and escape, but he stood perfectly still while I magically and physically bound his wrists and used the Disarming Charm to check for weapons." He gave himself up? thought Harry. Why would a fanatic give himself up? Nothing would stop Voldemort short of death, so why did he surrender? What good could possibly come of him being locked up in the Ministry?

"A man like Voldemort does not give himself up," said Harry.

"We are in complete agreement," said Dumbledore. "That is why we are here, to discuss the possible benefit he could gain from being arrested. I trust you have come to the same conclusion, since you are here. Please, Harry, do you have any theories?" Dumbledore was asking him for his input? This was a bit of a change. He only had one idea, and it was far from concrete.

"One," said Harry, sliding into a chair next to Flamel. Snape raised an eyebrow and gave him a patronising stare, while the others calmly watched him. "He is now inside the Ministry building, past all that security. Instead of storming the building, he has been welcomed into it. If he has enough spies inside, he could have them break him out and then he has a small army inside the building with access to all departments. To what end, I cannot say." There was a pause as he finished speaking. Dumbledore glanced at Snape and then back to Harry. Harry had a nasty feeling he had said something stupid. He felt like the others were weighing him up, rather than just looking at him. At last, Dumbledore spoke.

"Severus came to the same conclusion," he said softly. A small smile spread over his lips. "Great minds think alike."

"Fools seldom differ," said Harry, throwing a dirty glance at Snape.

"What you have both said," said Dumbledore, "is our most likely scenario, but it still does not tell us what he is after."

"Perhaps the Prophecy," said Harry.

"He doesn't know it exists," said Flamel. "In fact, it doesn't exist, so he would have no reason to go there. However, the Department of Mysteries is quite likely."

"He mentioned the door to me," said Harry. "The one that's always locked. He didn't know where it was at the time, but he may have found out."

"Kingsley, can you place guards around the Department of Mysteries?" asked Dumbledore. "It is entirely possible that that is his target. We have no proof one way or another, but there are things in there that he should not be allowed to gain control of." The image of the veil flowed into Harry's mind. He could see Sirius falling backwards, the look of surprise on his face. He had yet to talk to Sirius properly in this world. When things were a little less hectic, he would like to sit down and talk to his Godfather. He had so much he needed to say.

"Easily," said Kingsley. "But we are short of man-power, trustworthy manpower."

"We need another layer of security around Voldemort," said Harry.

"He is under maximum security," said Kingsley.

"Add more," said Harry.

"What more can we add?" asked Kingsley. "We already check every person with Veritaserum and Legilimency for any history with Death Eaters. Test them at resisting the Imperius Curse and make sure no wands are taken into the cell. No magic nor matter can pass through the shield."

"I know," said Harry. "I've been inside a Class Three cell, but I still don't trust them to hold Riddle." Riddle knew deeper magic than any man alive. Who could tell what he was capable of? Could any prison really hold him?

"Potter," said Snape. "It is all being taken care of. Believe it or not, we adults are capable of managing without you. The Dark Lord is under enough security. Let us handle this."

"Actually, Harry," said Dumbledore, calmly cutting off Snape, "it is fortunate that you have come. What Severus does not know is that Voldemort has made but one request since his capture. It is a little unusual, but he is adamant. He has promised to provide us with a full confession, but there is a catch."

"What?" asked Harry. He hated the idea of giving that monster what he wanted, but if it guaranteed him a one-way trip to Azkaban, or hell, (not that there as much difference between the two), he would hear him out.

"He will only talk to one person," said Dumbledore gravely, staring at Harry.

"Who?" he asked, though he already knew the answer - it would never be over for him until Voldemort was dead.

"You." The word rang in his ears. He had known it was coming, but to hear it spoken aloud was still shocking. Just when it might be over for him, Harry was being dragged back into the middle of it.

"Me?" asked Harry. He wasn't surprised, but curious. It was another irrational request. "Why me? Surely someone impartial would be better." Did Voldemort honestly think that Harry would represent him fairly, or even lift a finger to help him? None of this made sense.

"To avoid bias, yes," said Flamel. "Using you, with your history together, is an…unorthodox step. This too must be part of his plan, but it seems irrational."

"It's only irrational because we are missing a piece of the puzzle," said Snape. "If we knew his objectives, it would not seem irrational. He wants Potter for a reason, and until we know what it is, I say we do not grant his wish. In the meantime we have to decide what to do with his followers. We have a small window of opportunity." For once, Harry and Snape were in complete agreement. They had to round up the Death Eaters. While the Aurors were incapacitated, who knows what they had been doing? Now they were ready and the next stage of Voldemort's plan was in effect. If they didn't bring them in quickly, it would be too late. This was Voldemort's final assault. Failure now would mean losing the whole war.

"Agreed," said McGonagall. "With You-Know-Who inside, they are leaderless. Now if we assume this is part of the plan, they will be doing things in his absence, preparing."

"There will be the usual backstabbing," said Snape. "But they will do their best not to disappoint him. While he is out of communication, assuming he is - Shacklebolt we need to monitor who has access to him - they are vulnerable. I believe we should hit them hard now. Pull every known Death Eater."

"Where would we hold them?" asked Flamel. "Arresting them, placing them in holding cells either in the Ministry or the Auror complex would be putting a potential army inside the Ministry building. This could be what he wants us to do." This was a series of crosses and double-crosses. There was no way to know what they were up to, and arresting Death Eaters was not Harry's problem. Only one thing concerned him.

"Either way," said Harry, interrupting, "am I going to have to talk to him or not?"

"Yes," said Dumbledore, staring into his eyes. "Crouch tried other Aurors, but he merely toyed with them and sent them packing. He will only speak to you."

"Wait a few days," said Moody thoughtfully. "Let him wait. Inconvenience him; unsettle his schedule. It is Monday now, so I would suggest Thursday at the earliest."

"What good does waiting do?" asked Harry.

"Hope one of his followers slips up and gives us something to work with," said Moody. "Make it clear that he is a prisoner and that we are in charge. He doesn't get what he wants when he wants anymore. Let's ruffle his feathers. In fact, do a cell-search, strip search, drugs-test, anything to humiliate and unbalance him. Put a big television next to his cell with Muggle cartoons and talk-shows on with the volume up high. He may be holding the ace, but let's hassle him a bit."

"The Dark Lord cannot be psycho-analysed so easily," scoffed Snape. "You won't achieve anything."

"The Aurors will see him as nothing more than human," said Moody. "It will do wonders for morale."

"I agree with Alastor," announced McGonagall. "Make a statement. Show him he isn't in control." Harry agreed with this. Even in prison, Voldemort was trying to call the shots. They had to show him he wasn't the head-cheese any more.

"We could be giving him time to build an army," said Snape.

"It's only three days, Severus," interupted Flamel.

"Fine," sneered Snape. He did not sound convinced.

"Are we agreed?" asked Dumbledore. Everyone nodded. "Good. Harry will see him at eight on Thursday. Until then, ruffle his feathers. Kingsley, double and triple check every person with access to him. Move him daily to a new cell. Let's not make it easy for him. Harry, on Thursday please report here at half past seven. Let us go early, and if Kingsley would see to it that he not get much sleep that night, I hope for this incident to pass unhindered. We can then move on to find a prison from which he could not escape."

Never before had a weekend lasted so long for Harry. Every hour seemed like a month. His mind was all over the place and Flamel had to abandon his Occlumency lesson after twenty minutes. He only had time to discover one new spell - he could now use the spell that had saved him when a vampire had thrown him off the staircase. Animagus classes continued for three hours both days. Connecting his nose and upper jaw into one mass of bone, namely a beak, was causing him a bit of trouble, though he had yet to get stuck. Madam Pomfrey was always on call, but he had yet to need her. All this changing of shape was taking its toll on his body. The transformation hurt and his muscles ached for hours after he tried. After each lesson he felt like he had run the London Marathon twice.

XxXxX

Come Thursday morning, Harry was almost relieved that the time had finally come. He was not overly happy about stepping into a room that housed the monster that had denied him a life and a family, as well as tortured him. A sickening blend of fear, anxiety and nerves filled his stomach, and Harry wasn't sure that his breakfast would stay down long enough to get to the Ministry. It was the twenty-first of November and the air was cold. Wrapped in a warm woolly jumper and combats, he once again had the appearance of a Muggle. Tucking his wand into the belt loops of his combats he headed up to Dumbledore's office, from which he could Floo to the Ministry.

One question played over in his mind: why? Of all the people in all the world, why him? He wasn't an Auror, or a Ministry worker. He had no power or influence to get him anything. Negotiating with him was pointless. Surely Voldemort would see that? Kingsley, Dawlish, Moody, Madam Bones, even Crouch himself would have been better. What did he possibly have to gain by asking to speak to Harry?

His father had assured him that he was safe. Harry remembered what it was like to be in a Class-Three detention cell. He remembered the walls of blue light, the tiny circular space in a cavernous room. It had been in one of those that he had first met Rose. He had been so rude to her, and to Crouch. Looking back, he felt a tad silly that he hadn't realised he was in an alternate reality. It seemed so obvious now, but he knew for a fact that it was one of those things that are glaringly obvious when you know them, but if you didn't know it, it was so hard to find. After all, crossing the fabric of space and time was not a common occurrence, even in the world of Magic. He wondered if he was the first ever to do it. On a related note, he wondered if there had been any progress getting him home. He remembered Flamel saying that he was working on a translation of an ancient Greek text that spoke of a doorway to other worlds. He was pinning all his hopes on this one book. Deep down he knew there was only a tiny chance of him getting home, but he refused to give up hope. Fear will hold you prisoner, and hope can set you free.

He arrived at the Ministry at ten to eight. The early birds were arriving and those on nights were looking ragged and tired. They were handing over their shifts to the next watch with relieved expressions on their faces. The whole building seemed so empty as he appeared out of the fireplace. He was met by a familiar looking Auror at the main gate. He remembered her name was Rachel, as she had been there when he arrived to disarm the bomb. She walked over to him, limping slightly as she did. After shaking his hand, she guided him through security and down the lift to the new Auror Complex. There was still work to be done and the air was thick with solvents. No wonder the Aurors looked so tired and sleepy. There were large sheets covering building equipment in the corners. The structural work was done, and now they were on to decorating and installing new equipment. Not bad, considering how quickly it had all been done.

"You get used to it," said Rachel, giving him a nod. "Come on." She guided him between rows of desks and over to a line of wooden doors on the right hand wall.

"Come in," said a voice as she knocked on an office door. Harry recognised the voice immediately. Inside, Amelia Bones was sitting behind her desk, a steaming cup of herbal tea in her hands. Dawlish was there, standing to one side, skimming over the parchments on the table. They both turned to greet Harry as he entered the room.

"Ah, Potter," said Amelia. "Good to see you. Shepherd, that will be all." Rachel nodded and retreated from the room.

Harry sank into the seat that Dawlish gestured to.

"Thank you for doing this, Potter," said Amelia, putting her mug down. "Before you go in, though, we need to go over a couple of things." Harry simply nodded. He knew there would be a load of rules to follow, but he wasn't stupid. He was also in no mood to chat. He didn't want to hang around. Being around Voldemort was not something he was looking forward to. He wanted to get it out of the way.

"Fine," he said, though in truth he was far from fine about it. He didn't like entering a room he wasn't guaranteed to walk out of. Voldemort was up to something, and since Harry didn't know what it was, he was very uneasy. His mind was going over it again and again. What would be the logical response to his arrest? What was he expecting the Ministry to do? His mind was going around in circles. The only thing he knew for sure was that he was up to something.

"Firstly," said Amelia. "Crouch is going to hold a trial. He wants this as public as possible. Therefore, we need evidence. We would be grateful if you could conceal this on your person." She held out a small black crystal. It was about two centimetres long and as thick as a pencil.

"It's a smaller version of the recording orbs you saw at your hearing," said Dawlish. "Hide it somewhere and it will record everything that is said. Don't worry about it being covered in clothing; it will still hear what is said. Try to get him to talk about what he has done." Harry took the crystal and held it in his hand. He rolled up the sleeves of his woolly jumper and tucked the crystal into the folds. Somehow it worried him to wear a 'bug'. Voldemort couldn't get out, but the idea of it was disturbing. What if he was caught? How could he be caught? He was being paranoid, but the fear was still there.

"Next is the matter of security," said Amelia. "The cells should stop all matter and magic passing through, but given who this is, we are taking no chances. There are two Aurors in there at all times. I must ask you to surrender your wand. We can't risk him getting hold of it." Harry took out his wand, the only one he had brought with him, and laid it on the desk.

"Lastly there are some simple rules," said Dawlish. "First, you do not touch the light. You do not pass him anything, or accept anything he offers you. You do not step over the yellow line. You do not ask the Aurors to leave their posts unless it is an emergency. Beyond that, it is common sense. Do not tell him anything that might compromise the Order or Ministry. You won't be taking in a quill or anything; the crystal will record everything. That's about it, so are you ready?" It wasn't a lot of information to absorb. Harry nodded.

"As I'll ever be," said Harry. He rose to his feet.

He followed Dawlish and Madam Bones out of the office. The room was almost full with Aurors now and most of them stood and faced Harry as he moved through the aisles towards the lift. He felt much as he had when Crouch had led him through the old Auror Division on the way to his trial. Struggling to keep his eyes straight ahead, he passed through the sea of people on the heels of Dawlish.

The doors slid open and Harry stepped out of the lift. They were back in the Ministry now, on the lowest level of the building, over a mile underground. They walked past the Department of Mysteries and the Auditorium that had housed both his trials. They continued along until they reached a painting of a man standing on the scaffold, ready to be hanged. Madam Bones reached up and touched the lever that opened the trapdoor in the painting. The painting immediately swung open to reveal another passage. This one was narrower and more confining; they hadn't even bothered with the magical windows that showed a landscape outside. The corridors were blank from floor to ceiling, giving them a foreboding feeling and making sure that every sound echoed eerily around them. Harry's footsteps bounced off the wall and it seemed that the three of them were like a heard of elephants, especially with the metallic click of Madam Bones' heeled shoes.

At last they came to a door. There was no label on it and no handle, just a small hole, and to the left of it, a large metal plate. Madam Bones took out her wand and inserted it into the hole, then pressed her palm to the plate. The entire door glowed green before dissolving into nothing. Before them was a small square room perhaps three feet long and wide with a door at the far end. The three of them stepped into the cramped room.

"Don't touch the walls," said Amelia. This was harder than one might imagine, as the room was so small. As the door reappeared out of thin air, the wall and the doors started to glow a faint blue. A band of white light passed from the bottom of the room up to the top and then faded into nothing.

The door in front of them slid open, and they stepped through into another corridor. Two Aurors immediately blocked their paths.

"Surrender your wands, please," said one of them. "The scan showed two are you to be carrying."

"Stand down," said Dawlish. "Harry, it's the door at the far end. We will not go any further. If anything happens or you feel uncomfortable, walk to the door and the Aurors will let you out. If you can't do that, simply say 'the sun is shining' and we'll be in that room like a rat up a drainpipe, okay?"

"Okay," said Harry. He didn't feel any better about the situation, but he wasn't in the mood to talk. He just wanted to get this over and done with. He didn't like the idea of seeing Him again, especially without a wand. Harry took a deep breath, and then began to walk slowly and shakily away from the Aurors. His footsteps were slow and echoed around the entire corridor. He passed door after door, getting closer and closer to the cell that held the man he was destined to murder. Every step felt like a mile and his shoes as if they were lined with lead.

The door rose out of the ground in front of him like a barrier. It was solid steel and looked pretty thick. Harry grasped the handle. He didn't even have to push; as soon as he touched the handle, there was a hiss and a puff of steam as the pressurised room was opened. The heavy steel door swung effortlessly open. Taking a deep breath and summoning his courage, he stepped over the threshold.

A damp musky smell hit Harry's nose. The room seemed bigger from the outside looking in than from the inside. He cringed as he remembered being incarcerated in a similar cell. He wondered if it was the same one. The room was large and cavernous, yet nothing echoed. The floor seemed to be covered in water, and the pillar of light reflected eerily off the water. The entire room was in shadow; almost total darkness except for the column in the middle. A small circular section of the room was raised by six inches and around the edges a wall of blue light descended from the ceiling, preventing the prisoner's escape. There was an Auror on either side of the door, standing guard. Each had what looked more like a spear than anything else aimed at him, the tip of it was glowing a pale blue. Harry didn't dare imagine what the purpose or the effect of these weapons were.

"Harry Potter," said Harry softly. "I'm here to question…it."

"Very well," said one Auror. "Have you been told about the procedures?"

"Yes," said Harry. "Though I don't feel any better," he added softly.

He slowly approached the circular cell. It seemed such a waste for a tiny cell in the middle of such a cavernous room, but that was the least of his concerns. As he neared the cell, memories of his over governorship of a similar cell came back to him. He shook them from his mind and tried to think of the waves. Magic cannot pass through the shield, but he didn't know if Legilimency would. His footsteps splashed lightly in the water as he neared the cell.

Inside he could see the familiar metal-framed bed that was as soft as a slab of granite and just as comfortable. Next to that was a wooden table, and an armchair. Harry remembered that he had only had a tiny wooden chair, yet the Dark Lord had a comfy armchair. Someone in here liked him. He made a note to inform Dawlish when he got back out. The armchair had its back to him. He could not see the Dark Lord, so Harry assumed that he was in the chair. As he neared the cell he could see a yellow line on the floor, covered in muddy water. He was not supposed to cross it. He couldn't exactly knock, and manners seemed inappropriate given the situation.

"Riddle?" said Harry softly, breaking the silence. It didn't stay broken for long. There was no reply from the cell. Everything seemed unnaturally still. Harry had an urge to run for the door, but something made him stay. He had a job to do.

Come on Harry, relax, he told himself. He can't get out. You're safe. Just relax and do what must be done!

"Come on Tom," said Harry, a little louder. "I don't have time to arse around." There was a pause and Harry was sure he was going to have to repeat the statement, when a chilling voice came from the cell.

"I, on the other hand, do," came an icy whisper. "I have all the time in the world."

The chair slowly began to turn. As it came to face him, Harry caught a glimpse of the Dark Lord. His face was thinner than the last time they had met, more skeletal, giving him a haunted look. He didn't have the snake-like features of his counterpart in Harry's world. His long black hair still seemed to be as dark and flowing as it ever had. Were it not for the prisoner denim he wore, Harry would not have guessed that he was a prisoner. His body showed no sign of having been hassled and his eyes showed no sign of inconvenience, which worried Harry no end. Something was rotten in the state of Denmark.

"Because you're not going anywhere any time soon," said Harry coldly. With every word his confidence grew. Voldemort was nothing but a caged animal. A simple little snake with no fangs, all alone in a cage, being gawked at by tourists. He wasn't in control, and there was no reason to be scared of him.

"You'd like to believe that, would you not, Harry?" A cruel smile spread over the Dark Lord's lips. His eyes flashed with malice and he leaned forward, sending a chill down Harry's spine. "You would dearly like to believe I am forever out of your life, that you, your sister and parents can sleep soundly in your beds, guaranteed to wake up the following morning, free from the eternal fear of knowing that I am out there somewhere. Sleep soundly, Harry, I am not going anywhere - I am perfectly at ease here."

"Four Aurors?" snapped Harry. "You were arrested by only four Aurors? You could have killed five times that number without breaking a sweat." He managed to sound at ease, but inside he was screaming. The idea of killing his sister in her sleep was terrifying. He remembered a dream about how the other Harry had slipped into her room at night. If Voldemort touched her, he would kill him. Still, he had to appear commanding. "Why are you here, Tom?"

"I broke the law," said Voldemort, staring levelly into Harry's eyes. "I must be punished."

"You've been murdering for decades," said Harry. "Why now?"

"That I have, Harry," said Voldemort. "I've committed acts that would make you sick to your stomach. I've killed, maimed and tortured without pity or remorse to an extent the Ministry are completely unaware of. If they are good, they will have perhaps two thirds of the murders I have committed on record."

Harry was aware of the crystal on his arm recording all that was said. Voldemort was giving him exactly what was needed to put him away for good. He was practically guaranteeing himself a place in Azkaban. What good could that do him? Was a trip to Azkaban his goal all along? What good would that do?

"You didn't answer the question," said Harry. "Why are you here?"

"Luck runs out for us all, eventually," said Voldemort calmly. "It was my time."

"I don't believe that," said Harry icily. "You could escape at any time, so if you're here it's for a reason. You're here because you want to be. What is it? What have you been doing while the Aurors were blind?"

"I did very little," said Voldemort calmly. "But it would seem that many others have followed in my footsteps. Tell me, how did the Aurors cope with all the attacks on Muggles?"

"They nearly collapsed," said Harry. "Now they have new monitoring equipment; they're back online. Nearly two hundred arrests in the last three days. People are getting the message and it's dying down."

Harry realised that this was not going anywhere. He was giving out more information that he was getting. He knew Voldemort was here for a reason, but pressing him wasn't working. Maybe he could get him to let it slip some other way.

"What are you thinking, Harry?" asked Voldemort. "Are you perhaps thinking that you can psychoanalyse me? Or perhaps you are wondered how you might trick me into divulging what my accomplices are doing. Come now, Harry, do you really believe that common mind tricks will work on me?"

"Your pride will be your undoing," said Harry. If you cannot answer your opponent, simply insult your him.

"Your love for your friends will be yours," said Voldemort. "But let us not argue. I brought you here today."

"No," said Harry, cutting him off. "You requested my presence three days ago, but I had more important things to do. You are not in charge here. I came when I couldn't think of anything more interesting to do. Don't think for a second that I was not willing to simply walk away and leave you to rot."

"If you say so," said Voldemort. He clearly didn't believe Harry, but his calm was absolute and every bit as infuriating as Dumbledore's. Harry could see the anger burning in his eyes, and knew he deeply wished to lash out, but was holding himself back. Harry was slightly impressed with the icy precision with which Voldemort kept his insatiable anger in check. But if he was keeping it in check, it was again for a reason. What was he up to? "But whichever way you see it, Harry, you are here for one reason."

"And what would that be?" snapped Harry.

"To hear what I have to say," said Voldemort, calmly.

"You could have had anyone," said Harry. "Crouch would even personally see to this case as he did when I was arrested. Why me?" It was just one of the questions that he was burning to ask. Why, oh why, did Riddle want him? As expected, he didn't get a straight answer.

"When a man knows the end is near, he starts to reflect on his life," said Voldemort, staring unblinkingly at Harry. Harry knew he was simply toying with him, but why? He had called him here, and it must be for a reason, and a better reason than to gloat. He was patronising, teasing and mocking him. Why?

"You would never give up, and the end is not near," said Harry.

"Not of my life, certainly, " conceded Voldemort, "But of this petty little war. I have taken steps along the path to immortality; something that you of all people should be aware of. Now before this tale of death and destruction reached its climax, I still have some unanswered questions about certain aspects of my life. Namely, you."

"I am not the subject here," said Harry, cutting him off. He could feel his anger rising. He was the interrogator, not Voldemort. There was not going to be any Quid Pro Quo here. "You are going to be sentenced to death for crimes against the state, crown and humanity. You called me here to negotiate, to…"

"I am aware of why I called you here," said Voldemort icily. Harry stepped back. It was the first time Voldemort had lost his cool. The anger flickered in his eyes. "And it certainly was not to beg for my life. Do not think for a moment that you are in charge here. You are here because I desired it. I have already admitted multiple counts of murder. The recording crystal that you have concealed about your person has served its purpose; your friends in the Aurors have enough to convict me. You have what you want, now you will give me what I want."

"Wrong," said Harry, just as coldly. Voldemort knew about the crystal. He had been caught red handed. The best thing to do was to cut losses and leave. "Since I have enough to put you to death, my purpose is done. I can walk out of here and you get nothing." Harry turned on his heel and marched towards the door.

"You wouldn't dare leave," said Voldemort calmly as Harry walked away. There was no fear, or any emotion in his voice. He sat calmly in his seat as Harry neared the door. "Not if you want the answers you so desperately seek." Harry paused. Did he know about the existence of other worlds, about Harry's true identity? No, it wasn't possible. What answers did he mean? He knew something Harry didn't. What was he offering? Curiosity killed the cat and had gotten Harry into trouble on many occasions, but he couldn't help it.

"And which answers might they be?" asked Harry, turning back to face him. He stepped closer to the cell.

"Don't plead ignorance," said Voldemort. "You do not have to delve too far into the Aurors records, or the Daily Prophet articles to find out what I have done, what we have done together. Your first murder was the Minister of Magic, and you did it on my instruction. There is a reason you were my most valued disciple, but more to he point, there was a reason why you said yes to me. I offered you a life of power and privilege and you said yes. You don't remember that, do you? You fight who you really are, but you do not understand it. Do you think perhaps I corrupted you at the tender age of fourteen? I was only a catalyst. The darkness was always in you; I merely brought it to the surface. Despite your new moral standings, you are still the same monster, consumed by the same darkness. You fought off five vampires, I read in the Prophet. We both know that it was my influence that enabled you to do so."

"Can we give your overworked sense of self-grandeur a rest?" said Harry frostily. "I was a monster, a dirty little bastard - no one is disputing that - but I've learned my lesson."

"You may wear the costume of a do-gooder, you may even believe you are a new person, but the darkness is alive in you as much today as it was on Black Noel, or the day in the Devil's Cauldron. Do you remember that, Harry, what we did that night? Through the act of murder, we made sure that I would never be vanquished."

Harry felt a fog envelope his mind. He raised a hand to his head as his legs went weak. Images of the churning water and the jagged rocks plunged into his mind. He could see the light swirling around him and Voldemort like a vortex of red and white light.

"Yes," said Voldemort softly. "You do remember. If it makes you feel better, you weren't perfect. You strayed from my instructions on several occasions. You were always fond of Muggle technologies. You did great amounts of research into explosives, you studied martial arts and the sword, disciplines I myself deemed beneath me. You even disobeyed direct orders from time to time. Do you perhaps remember the time I sent you to get your own sister to help us?"

"Vaguely," said Harry. He recalled a dream where he entered her room and put the Imperius Curse on her.

"Her instructions were to deliver a bomb to Canamarro Square in Edinburgh," continued Voldemort. "She was to be killed herself, to prove your loyalty to me. She left the bomb and walked away. You told her to walk away. You saved her life, despite my instructions. The bomb went off; twenty seven people died, but she lived."

Harry's head was spinning. The Other Harry, evil as he had been, had still loved Rose, and had still saved her. Maybe he wasn't so bad. But then again, he had killed nearly thirty people. Hang on, why hadn't Rose mentioned this? Surely this would weigh on her conscience. Why hadn't anyone told him this.

"You may be wondered," said Voldemort. "Why she does not remember the incident."

"I suppose I gave her a memory charm," said Harry.

"Half right," said Voldemort, "though it wasn't you. I suggest you ask your parents. The world is many shades of grey, Harry. They modified her memory to save her from the Wizengamot. They broke the law to save their daughter. Not the model citizens anymore, are they? Just like you. You may wear the costume of a do-gooder, you may even believe you are a new person, but the darkness is alive in you as much today as it was on Black Noel, or the day in the Devil's Cauldron. Do you remember that, Harry, what we did that night? Through the act of murder, we made sure that I would never be vanquished. How does it feel, knowing that the only way to truly kill me, is to kill yourself?"

Harry froze. A chill ran down his spine. It seemed like a common threat, but there was something in it that made him believe it. Voldemort was serious. Even if he managed to vanquish the Dark Lord, he would not survive long enough to live in the free world. Although he had never given much thought to a life after Voldemort, he had always been certain that there would be one.

"What do you mean?" said Harry, stepping closer. Had he been paying attention, he would have noticed that he was stepping over the yellow line. Unluckily for him, he was not. "What did you do to me?" Curiosity bubbled over. He had to know. Who was the other Harry? What had he done to him? Why did he have to die to kill Voldemort? He had to know! There were so many questions and the man before him held the answers. What on Earth had Voldemort done to him?

"You make it sound like I violated you," said Voldemort, a cruel smile spreading over his lips. "It was your choice as much as mine. You asked me to use you."

"Why?" gasped Harry. No, it couldn't be true. Voldemort had taken him against his will, he must have. He had brainwashed the other Harry. "What could have driven me to such madness that I would join you?"

"There is only one person who can answer that," said Voldemort staring directly into Harry's eyes. "I can merely tell you what I did. I'm sure by now the old man will have notified you of your ancestry."

"My what?" asked Harry, confused.

"Your blood, Harry," said Voldemort, showing a glimmer of impatience. "Do you know from whom you are descended?"

"Who?" asked Harry, raising an eyebrow.

"Godric Gryffindor," Voldemort practically spat the name.

The fog re-enveloped his mind. He was back on Aunt Marge's farm. The shield had just stopped Voldemort's killing curse. Harry lay wheezing in the bubble. Dumbledore's words came back to him.

"No spell nor person of Slytherin blood can enter the circle as long as Gryffindor's sword and blood lie within!"

He remembered the time he emerged from the Chamber of Secrets, the debrief in the Headmaster's office, and Dumbledore's words.

"Only a true Gryffindor could have pulled that from the hat."

Harry was the Heir of Gryffindor! He kicked himself for not having seen it before. The Prophecy didn't apply in this world, yet Harry was still facing Voldemort. The reason was so obvious. Gryffindor had fought Slytherin a millennia ago and now their heirs were carrying on the Founder's Feud.

"I knew your father was descended from Gryffindor himself," said Voldemort. "Of course I considered killing you both outright, but then a better idea occurred to me. Rather than halting the Gryffindor line, what if I could take it as my own; what if I could bind myself to both lines? I took you when you were coming into your power. I showed you a life you could only dream of. The price for this was to carry a…burden for me. You took possession of it at the Devil's Cauldron. You became closer to me than humanly possible. You also became my heir. Remember, it was all by your own choice. You even selected the Attacus woman to be the victim. Through the act of murder, we formed a bond that even death cannot break. So now we come to the crux of it, if you'll pardon the pun. I can kill you without being affected, but the only way I can die is if you join me in death. You could end it all, Harry, but is life too precious?"

Harry's entire body seemed numb. The news washed over him like a tsunami. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't think as the words reverberated in his ears. Questions bounced around in his head, pounding at his mind like a sledgehammer. He was going to die, he had to or Voldemort would win. But he had to kill Voldemort first. This was impossible. How could he be Voldemort's heir? He swayed slightly on his weak knees.

"I…" he stammered, unable to think clearly. His mouth opened and closed rapidly. His stomach turned and he resisted the urge to vomit. He was struggling to remain standing.

"And you shall know the truth," said Voldemort, a wicked smile spreading over his face. "And the truth shall set you free."

"You…," said Harry, fighting the urge to puke. "You're lying!"

"We both know I speak the truth," said Riddle calmly.

"NO!" shouted Harry. It had to be a lie. He was not Voldemort's heir, nor was he going to die. He took a second to calm himself, resting his hands on his knees and taking deep breaths. It's not possible, the silent mantra that kept repeating in his head.

"You wanted answers of your own?" said Harry at last, managing to stand upright again. He shouldn't offer Voldemort anything, but he had to change the subject or he would be sick.

"I do," said Voldemort, leaning forward. "But I do not believe that you would tell me the truth."

"Damn right," said Harry. He would not give him any of the information he sought. He would not compromise the Order or anything of the sort.

"Even though I have been candid with you?" asked Voldemort. "What of honour?"

"You forfeited the right of honour when you took human life," said Harry.

"Then by implication, you deserve no better," said Voldemort icily. "It matters not, for I have a plan to remedy this dilemma."

"What?" asked Harry, raising an eyebrow.

He didn't have time to react. His pounding head was too weary to think clearly and the Dark Lord moved so fast. In a flash he was out of the chair and against the blue wall of light. His arm shot straight through the shield towards Harry's face. He felt those icy fingers wrap tightly around his neck, not squeezing, but holding him firmly in place. Harry tried to cry out, but he couldn't get a word out. He stared helplessly into those burning red eyes.

Then suddenly, for no apparent reason, Voldemort just released him. Harry grasped his throat and rubbed it in pain as he gasped for air. He felt horrible. His mind seemed so tired and his body ached all over. He felt sick inside and dizzy. He turned to see the Aurors surging forward towards him. When he turned back, Voldemort was standing two paces back from the barrier, calmly watching him. Harry coughed and doubled up in pain as the Aurors grabbed him around the arms and dragged him away from the cell.

"We said, don't cross the bloody yellow line," snapped one of them, as Harry was thrust through the door and out into the corridor.

The last thing he head before the door closed was a cold yet triumphant voice, muttering to itself.

"And you shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free…"

XxXxX

Harry took a long, deep breath. He stood in the corridor outside the cell, bent over, leaning against the wall with his hands on his knees. He ached all over, as if he had been practicing his Animagus transformation for the past three hours. His head was throbbing and spinning at the same time. He had no energy left to do anything. He swayed as he stood and then ended up leaning on the wall for support.

"You okay, Harry?" asked Tonks, passing him a glass of water. The young Auror had been waiting outside for him because Dawlish had been called back to the Complex.

"Yeah, thanks," said Harry, taking the glass and sipping it. "Splitting head-ache, but I'll live." Tonks laid a hand gently on his back and rubbed gently up and down.

"It's okay, kiddo," she said gently. "It took balls to walk in there after everything you've been through." Her touch was soft and soothing. It was odd, thought Harry, that in these situations, he usually ended up in a bed in the hospital wing, with people sitting around, staring to him, and demanding to know what happened. Someone actually touching him, comforting him, even in such an innocent manner, was quite alien to him, yet soothing. He felt his body relax slightly. The regular motion up and down his back was strangely comforting. He felt like he wasn't alone. In fact, he felt a sudden desire to be with his mother. He wanted her with him, to hug him. It was a novel feeling and one utterly unfamiliar to him. What was happening? He was so used to being alone, and now he felt so dependent on her. He didn't know exactly how he felt, or how he was supposed to feel. Pain just filled him mind.

"I shouldn't have gone in," said Harry, standing upright. "He put his hand right through the barrier. I knew he was too strong for it to hold him. I knew he could escape, it was stupid to go."

"Shhh," said Tonks, soothingly. "There was no way you could have known. It's not your fault. And anyway, we aren't going to let him get away with this. He's here now, and that's where he's staying. He's gone back to his reading and we have doubled the security. "

"I wish I could believe that," said Harry after swallowing a mouthful of the water. He now had no faith in the cell. Voldemort had reached clean through an impregnable field. Why had he even done that? He had grabbed Harry but then released him. It made no sense. He hadn't felt the stab of Legilimency. Voldemort hadn't read his mind or anything, just grabbed him. He didn't even try and choke him. Surely a rash display of power was not something that Voldemort would do? It only served to increase security around him "Thanks, Tonks. I don't know how he managed to put his arm through the barrier. It gave me one hell of a shock when I touched it."

"Harry," said Tonks, soothingly. "Let us think about that. You've done you best; now go get some rest. We'll deal with him."

"I feel like I'm leaving a job half done," said Harry. He didn't know why he was protesting. He wanted to return to bed, but he felt like he was walking away from something important. He had to see this through.

"Half done?" echoed Tonks, still rubbing his back. "It gave me the creeps standing outside the room with him. You spent over half an hour in there with him."

"It only felt like half that," said Harry softly, sipping the water.

"His attacks were emotional," said Tonks. "He pushed your buttons and you got worked up. You must have lost track. Don't worry." Harry pulled the crystal out of the folds of his sleeve and handed it to Tonks. She stopped rubbing his back and pocketed the crystal.

"I'd better be heading back now," said Harry. Tonks was right; he needed rest.

"Better take this," said Tonks, handing Harry back his wand.

Harry said goodbye to the young Auror and turned to leave, slipping the wand back into his belt-loops. He walked back to the security door and entered the small room. The familiar blue light scanned him, presumable detecting his wand. The door opened and he emerged into the corridor. Retracing his steps, he emerged from the painting of the hanging into the corridor outside the Department of Mysteries. He was tempted to go in and look behind the locked door, but he was too tried to make the effort. He had had enough for one day.

He turned left and then headed back towards the lift, trying in vain to walk in a straight line. He needed the wall for support as he staggered towards the lift. Harry pressed the button to call the lift.

Ping!

The doors, opened. Harry stepped forwards, still staring at his shoes.

"Ouch!" Harry walked into something soft and warm. He looked up to find himself staring into the eyes of a short man with dirty-blond hair and a long pointed nose. He was no more than twenty-four and was dressed in green. He looked vaguely familiar to Harry, though he couldn't place him. Probably an Auror, reasoned Harry. Or maybe someone who left Hogwarts in the last few years.

"Sorry," said Harry, stepping past the man into the lift. The man didn't reply beyond a nod and then continued down the passage. Some people, thought Harry. Was a sorry or even an 'it's alright' beyond him? Christine had said that manners get people a long way. She had been right. Shaking his head, Harry pressed the button for the lobby.

As the doors slid closed, Harry was struck by a sudden thought. He remembered exactly where he had seen that man before. He had been dragging Christine though a sea of people just over a week ago. Aurors had thrown this man out of the building. He was a former Unspeakable who had been caught trespassing in the Department of Mysteries. Suddenly the man's words came back to Harry.

"You don't understand! The Muggles know! They know about us. They're prepared for…."

Harry stuck out a hand instinctively to stop the doors closing. Harry pushed them open and stepped out. There were two possibilities: one, this man was right and the Muggles knew something, and the Magical World was in danger - and that was a distinct possibility, given the current political climate between Muggles and Wizards. Option two was that this man was insane and if that was true then he should not be allowed access to the Department of Mysteries, which was where he was presumably going. Either way, Harry had to stop him. There were no Aurors around. Head still pounding, Harry ran towards the department door.

Harry pushed the door open and entered the familiar round room. One of the doors was just closing as he entered. Harry dived towards the door, stretching to stop it closing. If the room moved, he could spend ages trying to find the right door and by then it could be too late. He managed to get a hand in the way and winced in pain as the door closed on his hand. It wasn't too heavy, but it still hurt. Harry pushed the door open, rising to his feet. He slipped into the room. This was one of the rooms he had not entered during his visit last year.

The room was large and in shadow. He could see cabinets around the edge of the room holding all manner of instruments. On the table in the middle of the room was a bowl that looked similar to a Pensieve but was wider and flatter than a Pensieve. Above it was a projection of what looked like a star-filled sky. Harry did not recognise any constellations in the image. It was probably not stars at all, but something Unspeakables understood.

Harry stepped further into the room. He couldn't see the man who had come into the room. He was about to head for the other door at the far end when something hit him in the back.

Harry was propelled forward head over heels and landed on his back. His wand flew out of the belt-loops of his trousers. Harry found himself staring at the ceiling. He hadn't even heard the Disarming Charm coming. He glanced up at ceiling, his eyes moving back and forth, looking for any sign of movement. After a second, a man in green emerged from the shadows. He was the same rodent-like man whom he had followed into the room.

"Who the…" began Harry, but the man cut him off.

"Shut up!" he hissed. Harry realised that he was completely unarmed, and his head was still throbbing. He was in no condition to fight. The man flicked his wand and the lights came on in the room. "Oh my," said the man. "The Harry Potter. I knew You-Know-Who would send someone, but I never dreamt it would be you."

Irritably, Harry got to his feet, the man's wand pointed at his heart the entire time. He brushed off his robes and threw the man a dirty look. The accusation of being a Death Eater after what he had just been through was thoroughly insulting.

"For your information," said Harry coldly, "I am no longer in the service of Voldemort. Secondly, I don't know who you are, let alone want to kill you."

"Yeah whatever," said the man, stepping forward and jabbing Harry with the wand. Harry didn't hesitate. As soon as the wand touched his chest, Harry grabbed the man's wrist and thrust his other fist into the crook of the man's elbow, bending his arm back so the wand was aimed at the man's own neck. Harry stuck his leg behind the man's knee and pushed forward. The man fell backward, landing on his back with his own wand and Harry's aimed at his neck. He looked terrified as he stared up at Harry.

"Now," said Harry coldly, "as I was saying. I am not a Death Eater, and you are not an Unspeakable. I saw you being thrown out last week. Now I followed you here because I saw you sneaking in. So, what are you doing here?"

"Go to hell!" snapped the man. Harry grimaced at the idea of having a 'tough guy' here. He didn't want to have to hurt the man.

"I'm going to ask you once more politely; don't make me ask again," said Harry. "What are you doing here?"

"You're not a Death Eater?" asked the man, his eyes wide and his jaw shaking. Harry shook his head. He could feel the familiar stab of Legilimency in his mind. So this man was a Legilimens. Harry made no attempt to force him out of his mind.

"You can get word to Dumbledore?" asked the man. "And you can protect me?" Harry nodded.

"…Fine," said the man, after a few second's thought. "Let me up and I'll show you why I'm here." Harry stood up, but did not give him back his wand. The man stood and then sat on the table in the middle of the room.

"My name is Rupert Redgrave," he began. "I've worked in the Department of Mysteries for the last five years. My field of research was magic in its purest form; what is magic, why does it exist, why can only some people use it, why can squibs exist given their parentage and the very basic questions like those. A few months back I began a little research into preventing magic. It occurred to me that if electricity doesn't work in Hogwarts and the Ministry because there is too much magic in the air, then could a surge of electricity or something like that stop all magic? A sort of EMP for magic, as it were."

"I'm not sure why you would want to know that," said Harry softly. What good would that do? Though having said that, preventing wandless magic in jails was a good idea. "Do go on."

"If I know what stops magic, it might unlock secrets as to what it really is," said Redgrave. "Anyhow, since I was looking for something non-magical to combat magic, I had to do a lot of research into the Muggle sciences. As I was part of the Ministry of Magic, I had access to government computers. It was then that I came across a project buried deep in a Covert Operations section of the Government's computer. The Project was called Arctic Thunder."

Artic Thunder? The name echoed in Harry's mind. He had dreamed of it, many nights since his arrival; this was what Lucius had told Voldemort was hidden in Devon. But according to Voldemort, it was the code-name of the door in the Department of Mysteries behind which love was studied. That was what he was looking for. All they found in the Muggle facility in Devon was a load of druid ruins and a load of Muggle technology. Suddenly Harry understood. Lucius didn't know what Artic Thunder really was! He had made a mistake, and would have been punished for it.

"Operation Artic Thunder," continued Redgrave, "was a secret Muggle project. It was believed by some that You-Know-Who was getting too powerful and that the Ministry was losing the war and they foresaw a time when You-Know-Who would take over. They knew his politics and believed he would present a threat to them, and may even start a war. They knew that they didn't understand magic, and that we have spells they could never even dream of. They felt that the only way for them to survive a war with You-Know-Who was to neutralise magic. The Ministry of Defence commissioned a project to create a device that would stop all Magic. Without magic, they reasoned, we would be helpless. Even the Aurors would be no use. The point is that there is a device out there that can neutralise any Magic within a five mile radius. Any army that walks with that at the front could march into Hogwarts, a defenceless Hogwarts, completely unimpeded."

"Jesus," said Harry. The idea of Hogwarts being entered so easily was not a nice one. If Voldemort got his hands on that, Hogwarts would fall within hours.

"Oh, it gets better," said Redgrave with a wry smile. "The Ministry offered protection for the Project. Our Ministry had a team of Aurors watching the facility where it was kept, ready to go at the first sign of magic."

"Why?"

"Politics" shrugged Redgrave. "I don't understand it, but you can bet there was political pressure coming from somewhere. I doubt the Aurors knew what it was they were protecting. Anyhow, it didn't do the project any good - You-Know-Who found it. A few months ago there was an attack on the facility where it was kept. I believe you were captured on that particular mission and apparently lost your memory. Despite the attack and a breach of the facility, nothing was taken. The Muggles moved the weapon, this time refusing the Ministry's offer of protection. We no longer know where it is, but there is a device out there that could bring our world to its knees."

"When the facility was attacked, Voldemort didn't actually know what Arctic Thunder really was" said Harry. "Does Voldemort now know about this device?" The man stared at his feet. He didn't need to be a Legilimens to see he was hiding something. What had he done?

"Does he know?" repeated Harry.

"When I found out about it," said Redgrave sadly, "I went to my Head of Department. Only Crouch knew about the project, so I thought he could talk to Crouch, to convince him to find the new location and keep an eye on it. I was concerned that if we don't monitor where it is, You-Know-Who could get it and we would never even know until it was too late. Unfortunately, my HOD's loyalties lay elsewhere. He asked me into his office and then…bang. Have you ever felt the Cruciatus Curse?" Harry nodded. So he had tried to warn the Minister, but Death Eater spies had intercepted him, and now Voldemort knew a device existed that could open the gates of Hogwarts to him. Christ almighty!

"I had to tell him," said Redgrave. "I know I shouldn't but I had to…the pain! You-Know-Who knows it exists, but not where. They were going to kill me, but I managed to get out of there. They had me fired, and then waited outside my house. I've been in hiding ever since. My sister is dead and I'm so scared. I need to find out where it is, before You-Know-Who gets it."

"So you want to steal it before Voldemort can?" asked Harry. He knew it was wrong to steal, but any price was worth it to keep such a weapon out of Voldemort's reach.

"In a word," said the Unspeakable, "Yes."

"Why didn't you go to Dumbledore, or Crouch directly?" asked Harry. Surely they weren't that hard to reach.

"I couldn't get to them. Death Eaters are everywhere." A fair enough reason. You really didn't know who to trust these days. Still, this Redgrave had a point. He had to find out where this device was kept and keep it away from Voldemort at all costs.

"Where would I have to go to find out where it is?" asked Harry. "You're right. Voldemort must never get it."

"I don't know," said Redgrave. "The Muggle Government, I suppose. You could…"

Harry stopped listening. He felt a sudden chill. Something was wrong. His Phoenix senses were going haywire - he could feel it in his mind. Darkness, coldness, evil! There was another presence in the room. Something was coming.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Harry reacted instantly, diving forward, rugby-tackling Redgrave to the ground. He felt a chill as the curse shot over his head, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Harry rolled off Redgrave and turned to face the new arrival. A tall man in black his was at the door, aiming a wand at Redgrave. The stranger's face was contorted in rage, and he aimed his wand for a second curse.

"Avada…" the man tried again.

Prius! thought Harry, flicking his wand. The silent parry stopped the Death Eater finishing the spell. "Stupefy!"

"Protego!" snapped the man quickly. A shield appeared and Harry's stunner bounced cleanly off, heading for the ceiling. Harry sprang off his shoulders onto his feet. He landed gracefully facing his attacker, just in time to duck another Killing Curse. Harry dived to the side, sliding away across the polished floor.

"Run!" Harry hissed at Redgrave.

"Incendio!"

The cabinet behind which Harry had taken cover burst into flame under the Death Eater's curse. Harry leapt away from the flames, his trouser-leg already alight. Harry dived to the floor, rolling over and over to smother the flames.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Harry glanced up, and to his horror, the curse had already left the man's wand. It shot through the air like a rocket, zooming towards the target. It smashed into Redgrave's chest, launching him off his feet. The Unspeakable was dead before he hit the floor.

Harry lay still, staring at the man's body for what seemed like an eternity. He looked just like Cedric, spread-eagled on the floor. His vacant eyes seemed to call out to Harry. Why hadn't he been able to save him?

Suddenly, a shadow fell over him. The Death Eater was standing tall, his wand inches from Harry's nose. Harry felt a chill run through him, and he knew that the dark magic was being summoned ready for the darkest curse in existence. The trouble with Phoenix intuition is that you knew exactly what was coming, Harry thought. Suddenly a feeling appeared in Harry's stomach. A sensation came over him that he had felt but once before, in McGonagall's office. He could feel the Phoenix calling to him. He tried to relax and let it tell him what to do, which wasn't easy with a wand in his face and the killing curse seconds away. The feeling seemed to clear his mind. It was as if a fog lifted and he suddenly knew what to do. Concentrating hard, Harry tried to picture Dumbledore's office in his mind.

Before the eyes of the startled Death Eater, Harry Potter disappeared in a ball of flame.

XxXxX

The office was empty as Harry reappeared on the cold hard floor of the office. Harry didn't know how he had just done that. He was sure it wasn't Apparation, in fact he was fairly sure that he had just done what Fawkes could do and appear out of thin air in a ball of flame. The idea had just come to him. He had just somehow known what to do. It then occurred to him that he was in Hogwarts and it was impossible to Apparate in and out of Hogwarts. Still, he had seen Fawkes flame around the castle. He had sent the signal to warn of Umbridge's approach when Dumbledore had been removed from office last year. This must be one of the perks of being a Phoenix. A small smile filled his face for a few seconds. He could enter Hogwarts at will. Cool. It occurred to him that he should discuss this with McGonagall before doing it again. It had been an emergency so he had an excuse this time, but he needed to talk to her before getting carried away.

Harry stood up and brushed himself off and dropped Redgrave's wand into his pocket. He considered leaving it here, but then Dumbledore would know he had been present during the death of an Unspeakable. It would not bode well for his trustworthiness. Instead he chose to keep it and dispose of it later.

Harry considered waiting here to tell Dumbledore what he had learned, but somehow he knew that politics still had its place in Dumbledore's ideas. He had to do this himself. Picking up the Floo from the mantle, Harry threw some into the fireplace. It was time to pay a visit to an old friend.

"Cambridge University!"

XxXxX

"Chris!" called a voice from around the corner. Doctor Christine Gaynes gave an exasperated sigh before stopping and turning. After a second, a man came around the corner. He wore a mustard yellow shirt and red tie, which were far to bright for his old and dull features. He was a little on the podgy side and waddled when he walked. Doctor James Summers was not renowned for his love of exercise.

"Make it quick, Jim," said Christine irritably. Jim was one of those infuriating people who, once he extended an invite, wouldn't take no for an answer. He was almost impossible to get rid of. He was a clever man, there was no denying that, but his people skills left something to be desired. Christine supposed that was what came of living your life looking at either a computer or a microscope. She was only twenty-six and when she got to Jim's age, she hoped she was nothing like him. Still her recent discovery about the ways of the world had broadened her horizons; the borrowed copies of Hogwarts: A History and The Modern Magical World for Muggleborns, whichat present lay hidden beneath her bedside table at home, were a testament to that.

"I was just wondering," panted Jim as he waddled up to her, "If you wanted to come out with us tonight. It's just that we are all going out to Wetherspoons for a meal and I though you might like to come."

Ah, thought Christine. So he has hassled some other poor sods into coming out with him. She knew what would happen, having been there herself before. Several would be unable to attend at the last minute and those that did would be stretched for conversation until they got a few beers down them. She couldn't take an evening of awkward silence. Christine was not keen on attending, but getting rid of the most persistent man on earth was not easy. She wished she could just wave a wand and get him to bugger off.

"I'd love to, Jim," she began before putting on her 'remembering a previous appointment' face, "but I'm afraid I can't. My sister is coming into town, and I can't leave her."

"Well, bring her along," beamed Jim. "The more the merrier."

"But she's brought my niece with her," added Christine. In truth she didn't have a niece, or a sister for that matter, but she was not going to attend. "You know how it is, a pub is no place for a toddler."

"It's only Wetherspoons," said Jim, his enthusiasm intact. "We could sit in the family area. They do kids' meals." Christine resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Christ, will he not take a hint? thought Christine irritably.

"Sir?" interrupted a voice. There was a boy to their right dressed all in black with a red baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. He was quite short, and carried a large cardboard box. "There's a phone call for you in your office."

"Who is it?" asked Jim. It occurred to Christine to ask what the kid was doing in Jim's office, but if it gave her a chance to escape, she would hold her tongue.

"Someone from Professor Stephen Hawking's office," said the boy.

"Stephen Hawking? For me?" stammered Jim, unable to believe his luck. Christine was beginning to wonder why the world-renowned Physicist would want to talk to Jim Summers, but she again held her tongue. Jim seemed convinced by it, as he quickly waddled off.

"Don't you just wish you could make him disappear," said the boy, removing the hat, "with the flick of a magic wand."

Christine broke into a small smile as she came face to face with Harry Potter once again. She still had nightmares about being in that room and the explosion behind her. Her nightmares were often filled with renegade bombs, but she would not have traded the experience for the world. Now she knew that the world was bigger than she had thought, it seemed to make the world a brighter place. All her little childhood dreams about fairy godmothers, unicorns, and magic came back to her, more real than when she was five. She had renounced them in favour of logic and science, but now, over twenty years later, she knew the truth. She looked back on how she had been a month ago. Work had been her life and there was nothing beyond it. She felt like she had been given a new lease on life, all thanks to the boy who stood in front of her.

"Is your visit business or personal?" she asked, wondering if she should find an empty room to talk.

"Both," said Harry. "But we had better get going before not-so-slim Jim comes back."

Christine nodded. "How old are you?" she asked, an idea formulating in her mind. He looked eighteen, didn't he? Not really, but sod it, as long as he wasn't buying - this was a University, after all.

"Sixteen, why?" he asked.

"Come on, put that hat back on, we're going to the pub, I need a break," she announced.

XxXxX

Harry followed her as she set off towards the double doors marked 'EXIT'. He was careful not to bump the box the was carrying as he followed her out of the building and out onto the familiar campus of Cambridge. She then turned right and crossed the road towards a building. Harry followed her down the gap between the buildings. The alley came out onto another road, but this time she turned right and she and Harry found themselves outside a bar. Christine marched straight in and over to the bar.

"Take a seat," she said, pointing to a table in the corner from which they could see the entire bar, but there was no one near enough to hear them. Harry did take a seat and removed his jumper, as it was warm and stuffy in the bar. He set the box gently down on the seat next to him. The smell of cigarettes hung on the air and the wallpaper was stained slightly yellow. Harry cringed at the smell coming from the white stick on a student's hand to his right. Filthy habit, thought Harry. He was sorely tempted to magically induce a coughing fit to cure the boy of his ridiculous habit, but resisted. If he wanted to stink and look like an utter twat, that was his prerogative.

With a clink, a glass was plonked down in front of him, and Christine took a seat next to him.

"What's this?" asked Harry, pointing to the glass in front of him. It was filled with a reddish-purple liquid that looked like blackcurrant but smelt wrong. It had a frothy head and looked quite thick.

"Snakebite," said Christine casually. "The drink of a student. You're less than two years short of being able to drink and this is a uni, so never mind." She herself had what looked like lemonade, though Harry was sure there was a spirit of some sort in it. Harry picked up the glass and sipped the cold liquid. It was fruity, with a slight aftertaste of something he didn't know. It was good.

"What's in it?" he asked.

"A dash of blackcurrant, half cider and half lager," said Christine, putting her won glass down on a beer mat. Soliciting of Alcohol to a minor – very naughty, thought Harry, but he was very thirsty, so why not. Just the one. "So, what brings you to my humble abode, and what's with the box?"

"Firstly to see how you are doing," said Harry politely. In truth he had been quite concerned about her. Since Crouch had given out her name, he was worried that someone might come for her. Still, Harry had stopped her being Obliviated and even leant her some books. She was like a child, being born again into a bigger brighter world, even though her first experience of the magical world showed a load of barbarians. Harry actually felt quite paternal towards her, despite her being ten years older than him.

"I'm flattered," said Christine.

"Well," said Harry. "You did save many lives, including my own. And let's not forget that you are the largest breach of the Statute of Secrecy I've ever come across. Technically, we should have wiped your memory, but I intervened."

"To which I am eternally grateful," said Christine. "Those books are fascinating, by the way. Just wandering around now, I notice things, things I never saw before. It's like my eyes have been opened, and now I know what I'm looking for, I notice things. Like the other day, I saw this bright purple triple-decker bus that had armchairs instead of seats. No one else seemed to notice it."

"The Knight Bus," said Harry casually, sipping his drink.

"It's like this whole new world had been opened up for me," said Christine, sounding a touch sad. "It makes me wish I was part of it."

"I could speak to Dumbledore," offered Harry. "He is considering introducing Muggle Studies as a mandatory lesson to try and bridge the gap between us and you. Most purebloods don't know what gravity is, let alone radiation. Surely someone with your knowledge of science and the world at large would be useful."

"I…" stammered Christine. She was blushing and clearly a little uncomfortable.

"Of course, you wouldn't want to leave everything behind," said Harry, "I know a lot about that." He was thinking about leaving an entire world behind. "But if you wanted to guest-speak some time, I'm sure we could arrange it."

"Could you?" she asked, her eyes lighting up. "I would get to see Hogwarts?"

"You never know," said Harry, taking another sip.

"I'd like that," said Christine. "But this isn't why you came, is it?"

"Honestly, no," conceded Harry. He took a deep breath. He was about to ask her to commit a crime punishable by death. This was not going to be an easy conversation. "We have a…situation." Christine shot him a concerned glance. "It's nothing nuclear," he quickly added, to ease her. She relaxed slightly.

"The terrorist who blew up the Ministry," began Harry.

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?" she asked. Harry shot her a puzzled glance, before he understood.

"You've been reading," he said. "For future reference, just use his name, Voldemort. You've never even heard the name before, so there is no need to fear it. If you are afraid of the name, how can you ever hope to fight the man behind the legend? But yes, you're right. Voldemort. He used the bomb to put pressure on our government and yours. I'm sure you've read about the recent wave of muggings in the papers? Voldemort has spread rumour around the country that it was a Muggle attack and since the weapon was Muggle, many blamed you for the attack, and are taking revenge. That's not a plague in the west end, it's the result of the most Unforgivable of curses. The Killing Curse."

"These attacks are all you?" she gasped.

"Aurors are running around trying to stop it," said Harry quickly. "The bomb destroyed our monitoring equipment, but we're doing our best. The new equipment came online two days ago, so the violence is dying down. We're leaving anyone captured to face your authorities, and have increased sentences of our own justice system. We hope to get it to die down completely, soon. The point is that all this conflict is pushing our two communities to the brink of war. We both know what a war would mean. Thousands would be killed, on both sides. We have to stop this madman before it's too late."

"So how can I help?" Harry admired her courage. She knew so little about their world and what was being asked of her, yet she was still willing to help - an admirable quality.

"Your government has commissioned a secret plan," said Harry, choosing his words carefully. "Do you know what an EMP or Electro-Magnetic Pulse is?" she nodded. "They have invented one that stops any magic within a five miles radius. It's a fail-safe in case we lose and Voldemort takes power and attacks you. It enables you to defend yourselves. However, we've learned that Voldemort knows this weapon exists. If he gets his hands on it, Hogwarts and the Ministry will fall. Once he has control, he will lead what's left of the magical community against the Muggle government. We need to stop him getting his hands on it, but the only way I can think of to do that is…"

"To destroy it or to have it yourself," finished Christine. "You want me to help you steal a top-secret project from my own government."

"Precisely," said Harry. He didn't know how he was supposed to look, so he kept his face blank. "You said you worked for the government. Could you possibly have access to a Ministry of Defence computer? Is there any way you can find out where it is for us?"

"I don't have that kind of access to the M.O.D. myself," said Christine, sipping her drink. "But I have a friend, or more specifically, an ex-boyfriend, that works for COBRA," she added thoughtfully.

"COBRA?" echoed Harry.

"Cabinet Office Briefing Room," said Christine.

"So what's the 'A' for?" asked Harry.

"Nothing," said Christine, "but Cobr isn't a word, and spelling it out, 'see oh bee ar' just doesn't sound as menacing as Cobra, the king of snakes."

"Fair point," noted Harry. Snakes were definitely associated with evil and malice. "So what is COBRA?"

"Heads of all military departments, special forces and intelligence services. It's essentially a war council. My ex is the assistant of the home secretary. He'd have access." Harry felt a tingle of hope inside him. If this man could get them a location, they could acquire the device.

"Can you get to him, or do you need us to?" asked Harry.

"You?" echoed Christine accusingly. "You mean, do I need you to put one of those spells on him, like that Major Lane? To force him to do something he didn't want to, to get him killed?" Her tone was sharp and accusing. She obviously wasn't happy with this plan.

"For your information," said Harry gently, "that curse, along with the ones for torture and killing, carry a life sentence in the Island Prison of Azkaban, a resort on which I have no desire to spend my holidays. No, I have no intention of forcing anyone to help. I would never use force like that. It loathes me to admit it that there are those in my world who do use those curses with no regard for life. It is those people whom I am fighting against, not your world. I am asking you in the interest of saving lives to help us."

"So you're asking me to help out of the goodness of my heart?"

"It's a lot to ask," began Harry.

"You have no idea what you are asking," said Christine, her tone firm. She was clearly not happy with this, and for good reason. She was being asked to risk her life and job for someone she hardly knew. "Let me spell it out for you. T-R-E-A-S-O-N. Treason, Harry. I am a Muggle. More than that, I am a British Citizen. Stealing classified secrets and giving them to non-government personnel, and a boy I hardly know, is treason against the crown and that is still punishable by death. Not only that, if it comes to war, I will be killed by your people and I would be surrendering the only hope my people have of defending themselves. I am essentially handing you a loaded gun and asking you not to pull the trigger."

"This is war, Christine," said Harry sadly. "Someone is trying to start a war between us, and in the interests of both sides, we need to stop him getting these devices. Please, help us."

"How long have I got to think it over?" she asked, staring into space and sipping her drink.

"Until I walk out of here," said Harry. She shot him a surprised glance. "Sorry, but we have no time. Voldemort has a lot of influence, and his followers don't have the respect for life that I do. They will not hesitate to use the three Unforgivable curses to get their way. He will get the device sooner or later; the only chance of stopping him is to help me."

"Why not double security?" she asked. Harry had thought about this himself, even about asking Crouch for Ministry Aurors to defend it, but the Aurors might be Death Eater spies, and even if they were loyal, if the Ministry knew its location, so would Voldemort, and the Aurors would not stop him. Even in prison, Voldemort was still a terrifying opponent. This whole thing could be what Voldemort was after. He had gone to prison so that the Aurors would relax, leaving the Death Eaters to steal this weapon. There was no way that security would help.

"You could stick the whole SAS in front of him and he would cut through them like a hot knife through butter, with no regards for life on either side. Even his followers are expendable."

Christine sat for a moment in thought. She was clearly debating the morals of treason and potential death if caught against saving lives in both worlds. It was a lot to ask, especially since she was an academic, not a soldier. Harry sat in silence, hoping to God that she would say yes.

"Okay," said Christine at last. "I'll contact Robert and see if I can get the location. Harry, I'm trusting you - not your Minister, not your people, just you."

"I will keep the device safe from everyone, you have my word," promised Harry. "This is happening off the record. My government, headmaster and parents will not know what we are doing. Only my accomplices will know it exists, and only I will know where it is." He would take every security precaution he knew. Voldemort would never get hold of it!

"Fine," said Christine. "Let's hope I can do it in time."

"Thank you," said Harry. "I really appreciate it. Don't worry about your conscience. You're not betraying the crown; you're protecting it. Her Majesty will be able to sleep soundly without Voldemort coming-a-knocking." Christine didn't look convinced, but she nodded and got up from her seat.

"Next time, you're buying," she said. She took two steps towards the door before turning back. "How do I contact you?" Harry had almost forgotten himself. He gently picked up the box next to him and handed it to her.

"Inside is a cage with an owl," said Harry. "Attach a note to its legs. There is a self-addressed envelope inside. Remember, this is not officially happening. Your note must be seemingly innocent and vague, and must not contain your name or location, okay?"

"Got it," she said, taking the box. She then strode out the door. Harry drained the last of his drink before following suit. He just hoped she could do it in time.

XxXxX

Harry Floo'd back to Hogwarts, merging into the Headmaster's office amidst a meeting for a majority of the Order. There were a good forty people in the room and Harry recognised some faces, while a few of the others he had never laid eyes upon before. They all turned to him as he entered.

"Ah, the man of the hour," said Dumbledore, as Harry brushed himself off. "We have just been reviewing the crystal from this morning."

"Don't say it," said Harry quickly. "I know I let it get personal. I messed up, okay?"

"Harry," said Dumbledore in his infuriating calm. "it's a little more complicated than that."

"Yeah I know," said Harry. "He was speaking in riddles the entire time, if you'll pardon the pun."

"Harry," said Dumbledore. "We don't know what he said." How was that possible? Had he messed up? Surely Dawlish would not have given him a dud crystal. He had wrapped it up and Dawlish had said that it would record through fabric. Voldemort have even acknowledged the crystal.

"What?" said Harry. "I thought the crystal recorded everything?"

"It only recorded you," said Snape. "Not him." Was Harry paranoid, or did he sound accusing?

"How is that possible?" asked Harry.

"It may be that someone sabotaged the barrier," said Dawlish. "The crystal worked when I gave it to you. Tonks said he reached clean through the barrier and grabbed you."

"Only for a second," said Harry.

"He didn't try anything once he had you?" asked Snape.

"Nothing," said Harry. "I think he just wanted to scare me, to prove his power."

"The point is," continued Dawlish. "He reached through a barrier that nothing should be able to without even being hurt. And the Crystal didn't record his voice when a similar one went through the same shield when you yourself were captive, Potter. The barrier must have been sabotaged."

"This is a disturbing turn of events," said Flamel. "If he has someone with that kind of access, loyal to him, he could escape at any time." This was dangerous. If Voldemort controlled too much of the Ministry, then he could take over at any moment. Harry knew a cell would never hold him.

Harry yawned, he was absolutely knackered and he only wanted to discussing his new form of transport with McGonagall. He needed to get to bed before he collapsed.

"We can continue this later," said Harry. "I'm too tired at the moment. I need rest." With that, he staggered back to the Staff Quarters. Once home, he fell onto the bed still dressed and was asleep in seconds.

XxXxX

The next day, Harry sat down and discussed with Dumbledore and Flamel all that Voldemort had said. They all agreed that only the other Harry, wherever he may be could answer the question as to why Harry had chosen to side with him. However, they did gain some useful information from the conversation. Despite the fact that Voldemort had spoken in riddles the entire time, they were able to salvage some of the facts. Of course, Harry and Dumbledore were interested in two different sections of the interview. While Harry was concerned with his past and what Voldemort meant by them being closer than was humanly possible and a bond that even death could not break. The words played over and over in his mind. The previous night his dreams had been plagued by the churning water and jagged rocks of the Devil's Cauldron.

While Harry put the memory into a Pensieve and they watched it, Harry kept churning those words over in this mind. He knew there was meaning behind them, but what it was he could only guess.

"What does he mean by 'steps along the path to immortality'?" asked Harry. "He has said that in my world too. I thought immortality was impossible, even with magic."

"It is," said Dumbledore. "The man who came closest is sitting in this room, and he is as mortal as the rest of us."

"By all accounts it is impossible," said Flamel, leaning forward in his chair, his ancient face looking even more weary than before. "However, Riddle's knowledge of the Dark Arts runs deeper than mine. Through some sick act he may have achieved what we believe to be impossible."

"Through the act of murder," quoted Harry.

"He may have taken one life to ensure himself of another," said Nicolas. "But if I don't know the spell I cannot say what he is referring to."

"Do you think it's true about my not being able to kill him without dying myself?" asked Harry.

"He may be trying to scare you," said Dumbledore calmly, though Harry was sure he was hiding something. "On the other hand, he may be telling the truth. But look at it like this, Harry; whatever he did, he did to the other you. As such, you may not need to die after all."

"Depending on whether the spell affected the body or the soul," said Harry.

"Precisely," said Dumbledore.

"Did you know about my being the Heir of Gryffindor?" asked Harry.

"Of course," said Dumbledore. "I assumed my counterpart would have informed you of it."

"He didn't," said Harry frostily. "And what about me being His Heir? Am I now the Heir of Slytherin too?"

"His blood does not flow in your veins," said Dumbledore.

"This isn't my blood," said Harry holding up his wrist. Though in his world, his blood flowed in Voldemort's veins. Interesting.

"I wouldn't worry, Harry," said Dumbledore. "You are your own person. You do not have to go the way of your father, and certainly not of a man who claims you are his heir. It is your life, so do not trouble yourself with needless worries." Harry took a little comfort from his words.

The meeting was over shortly after that and Harry decided to go down to the Quidditch pitch to watch Gryffindor train. The new team were very impressive, though in his opinion, nothing on the original Wood line-up he had started with. That would forever he the Gryffindor Line-Up for him.

Christine's answer did not arrive that day and Harry went to bed that night feeling rather deflated. Her answer didn't arrive the next day, or the one after that.

The following Monday came and Harry was beginning to think something had happened to her. It had been too long and with every passing moment, Voldemort could potentially have acquired the device.

After lunch that day, Harry dressed in Muggle clothes and pocketed his wand. He had waited long enough and it was time to act. He was going to Floo to Cambridge and find out what was going on. He was just about to head up to Dumbledore's office when the door opened and in walked his mother.

"Going out?" Lily asked him.

"Er…yes," said Harry quickly. He managed to force a smile.

"Anywhere nice?"

"I just need a breath of fresh air and maybe a drink," said Harry.

"Hogsmeade?"

"I was thinking somewhere more Muggle," said Harry honestly. "I'm less likely to be recognised."

"And how do you plan to pay for the drink?" asked Lily raising an eye.

"Good point," said Harry quickly thinking of an excuse. "I'm still a little shaky. I'd have got all the way there before realising I was missing something."

Lily gave him a scrutinising glance, before nodding towards a table. "You can take some money from the draw," she said at last. "Go easy, Harry. I don't want to have to collect a drunken lout from a police station."

"Trust me," said Harry, smiling to himself.

At that moment, an owl flew in through the window. It was a tiny little thing, but also very familiar. It was the same owl he had given to Christine. Did this mean she had found out what he needed to know? Harry ripped the paper from the owl's leg and tore open the envelope like a child on Christmas morning.

Harry,

Fancy another Snakebite? 18:00. It's your round.

Christ

Harry smiled at the woman's dry wit. If she had gotten the information they needed, then they might have to go tonight. There was so little time left.

"Well," he said to his mother. "I'd better be off now. Back in a few hours."

He slipped past her, leaving a rather confused and unconvinced looking Lily in the room. Harry quickly ran up to Gryffindor Tower, bursting into the room, making several people jump. He found Ginny sitting by the fireplace, losing a game of chess to Dean Thomas.

"Ginny, can I have a quick word?" asked Harry, gesturing for her to follow him outside. She gave Dean an excuse and followed Harry out through the door into the corridor. They stepped away from the Fat Lady so they couldn't be heard. Harry checked that they were alone, before beginning. He was not happy with what he was about to say, but he had no choice. He didn't want to involve them, but he couldn't do this alone.

"Ginny," he began. "there is a situation in which I need some help, and I can't go to Dumbledore."

"What do you need?" she asked. Part of Harry wished she would refuse, but he knew she was a Gryffindor for a reason. Sighing, he continued.

"Can you get Rose, Ron and Hermione to come to the Room of Requirement at eight this evening?"

"Why?" she predictably asked.

"Like I said, I need help," said Harry. "I can't say anymore at the moment." Ginny looked a little disconcerted, but nodded. "It's only a meeting," Harry reassured her. "You won't have to go through with it if you don't want to." She looked a little happier. "Thanks, Gin."

She turned and disappeared back into the tower.

The next few hours were among the longest in Harry's life. He walked through Hogsmeade, and then Floo'd to Diagon Alley and then stepped out into Muggle London. He could not think of anything to do and didn't want to be around anyone in case they picked up on how on-edge he was. He kept glancing at the clocks on the street and then cursing when only a few minutes had passed since he had last looked. Nothing he did could take his mind of the evening's meeting. He tried a few Animagus exercises to pass the time, but is concentration was elsewhere. All he could think about was Artic Thunder. The idea of Hogwarts being so vulnerable, of Voldemort marching to victory unimpeded, was horrific. He would turn to knives and swords instead. He hated to imagine the students being hacked to pieces, but those sorts of images filled his mind.

It seemed like an eternity had passed, but finally, the time came. Harry concentrated hard on Oxford Street in London. He disappeared in a ball of flame. The rushing sensation and dizziness were becoming less intense, but it was still not the most comfortable means of transport. He reappeared in an alley between two shops, behind a large Biffa Bin. Stepping out, he emerged onto the road. It was four thirty and in an hour the shops would be closed. He had to hurry. He quickly made his way into an army surplus shop, his pocket full of money that his mother had leant him. Here he had no access to a Gringott's vault, which could have presented a problem, but it was sorted now. He emerged from the surplus shop a few minutes later carrying two bags containing clothing for tonight. He made one more stop in a toy-shop and then made his way quickly to the Leaky Cauldron and through into Diagon Alley. From there, he Floo'd to Cambridge.

He managed to find his way back to the pub. He could see the old building on the far side of the road and smell the stale beer and cigarettes from a good ten metres away. He regretted not having an invisibility cloak in this world. From his hiding place, he could see everyone that went into the pub. He only had to wait four minutes before he saw a familiar figure, though this time not dressed in a smart suit. She wore long black trousers, with a matching top and a small denim jacket over the top. While Harry couldn't imagine a teacher on the weekend, especially Snape, apparently lecturers did have a social life. He suppressed a grin at the memory of that Jim bloke who had been trying to get Christine to go to some stupid party.

Harry quickly darted across the road and slipped into the pub behind her. She had paused a few paces inside and was looking around for a quiet table. Harry stepped up behind her. He was just about to speak when she turned around. As her eyes fell on him behind her, she gasped in surprise. Her eyes grew wide and she stepped back.

"Sorry," mumbled Harry. He hadn't meant to scare her.

"Never do that again," she said, shaking her head in frustration and shooting him a glare. "Come on." She led him to a table in the corner, the opposite one from where they had sat last time. There was no one near enough to hear what was said. Being the evening, the noise level was higher which suited them. Students would have finished their lectures by now, and the rugby teams would already be heading out to the pubs.

"Okay," said Christine once she was set. Harry really wanted to know what had taken so long, but then on reflection re-acquainting oneself with an ex would probably involve time, as she couldn't just ask him to commit treason as Harry had her. He didn't dare think what she had had to do, what Harry had made her do to get the information. He had better not ask.

"I saw Robert last night," began Christine looking awkward.

God, what have I put her through? wondered Harry.

"I won't bore you with the details," she said, fidgeting with a button on her denim jacket, "but I managed to get into his computer. Or rather, he hadn't logged out of COBRA so I had a peek, as it were. I emailed myself the files and hey presto."

"Thank you," said Harry. "I really appreciate what you've done."

"I'll bet," said Christine a little icily. "Okay, here is what I know. Project Artic Thunder is under Military control. It was run by an Army Colonel, called Alexander Fortescue. He was murdered along with his entire family a few months ago, and his house burned down."

Harry felt a chill run down his spine. An old dream came back to him as clear as crystal. He remembered standing at the foot of a colonel's bed…

"One more time, Colonel," said Harry coldly. "Where is Artic Thunder? Your children's lives are on the line here, colonel. I'd advise you to think very hard before answering."

"I swear, I don't know!" stammered the colonel.

Why does he have to make things so difficult? wondered Harry, impatiently. With a sharp tug of his right hand, Harry dragged the blade quickly over the throat of the young boy. The colonel and his wife screamed as a red stream of blood poured out of the gaping wound, spilling down the boy's front. Harry felt another adrenalin rush as he watched the life, flow from the gaping wound on the boy's neck. Harry let the body fall to the ground, staring unemotionally at the Colonel and his hysterical wife as the boy bled to death before him.

"He killed him! He killed him!" wept the Colonel's wife. She sobbed frantically into her husbands shoulder.

"HE WAS INNOCENT, DAMN YOU!" roared the Colonel. "WHY DID YOU HAVE TO KILL HIM?"

"Are you alright?" asked Christine.

Harrying blinked a few times as reality returned to him. Images from the memory flashed into his mind. His stomach tightened and the feeling of nausea swept into his head. He shook his head to try and rid himself of the feeling, but the chill was still shuttle-running up and down his spine like a pogo-stick.

"You look really pale," said Christine. "Do you want a hot drink?"

"I'm fine," said Harry, trying to sound convincing.

"Okay," said Christine, giving him a concerned glance. Her iciness had abruptly changed since the memory. "Following his murder," she continued, "there was an attack by the Ghosts on the facility where it was kept. The report refers to a notable arrest. I don't know what that means." Harry was fairly certain they meant him. Crouch must have told the Prime Minister that yes he had failed, but on the brighter side he had captured the second in command. ". Shortly after he was appointed, there was an attack on the base it was being held at. It was in Devon, underneath a supposed Water Purification plant on the road between Tavistock and Mary Tavy. The odd thing about the attack was that nothing was taken, though loss of life was significant. The press thought it was the Provisional IRA and COBRA encouraged this. In truth, COBRA believes it was a group of people that refer to as 'Ghosts', whoever they are." Harry thought about it. It wasn't too hard to understand whom they meant.

"They mean us," said Harry, convinced of his conclusion. "If you are born in the Wizarding world, you have no birth certificate in the Muggle world, no passport, driver's license or anything else. Bureaucratically, we don't exist, we are effectively…"

"Ghosts?" finished Christine. "I see. Clever."

"That's my guess," said Harry, trying to be modest. "I could be wrong."

"Well, after this attack, the leadership of this project was handed to another man," she continued, ignoring him. "This time a major, and former SAS officer. His name was Bowden. Major Bowden is still in charge. The first thing Bowden did was to move the devices."

Harry's jaw dropped. The words echoed in his mind. Devices? Surely that was a slip of the tongue? She didn't seriously mean…she couldn't!

"Devices?" asked Harry, in disbelief. "As in plural?" He knew the answer already, but to hear it spoken out loud was horrible.

"There isn't one device," said Christine nodding. "There are three. Luckily for you, they are all kept at one location. Bowden had them moved for safety. He believed that there were too many leaks in your government, so they refused the protection of the Ghosts. Your government failed to protect the facility the first time, and the colonel guarding it. As such they were not keen to renew the contract. Your government don't know where it is. It just so happens that I know the location myself." She seemed quite pleased with herself, if not about the operation as a whole. Harry couldn't blame her. She was handing over power to him and had nothing but his word that he would be responsible with it.

"Where?" asked Harry.

"Not that far," said Christine matter-of-factly. "I expect they thought people would expect them to move it to the other end of the country. In fact, they moved it fifteen miles." Only fifteen miles? Was it even worth it? Then again, he had expected that they would need to go to Scotland or somewhere like that.

"Where?" he repeated again.

"It's in here," said Christine, holding out a beige loose-leaf file, filled with papers. "Inside is the location, maps, blueprints of the bunker."

"Thanks," said Harry, reaching out for the file. As his fingers touched the rough cover of the file, Christine pulled it roughly out of his reach.

"Promise me one thing though," said Christine, staring into his eyes, her face stern. Harry gulped. She wasn't going to start making impossible demands was she? He thought she was a sane and rational person. This was not the time for rash demands.

"What?" asked Harry cautiously.

"No killings," said Christine. "No loss of life." Harry breathed a sigh of relief. This was part of his plan anyway. He would not take life, especially soldiers just trying to defend their country.

"I promise," said Harry. "We will not kill anyone."

"Harry," said Christine, removing her glasses and polishing them. "I'm going to he honest with you. I don't like this. If they find out that a wizard stole the only weapons that can stop them, it could start a war."

"I know," said Harry. He had in fact thought of this already, and come up with a simple plan to remedy the situation. "Which is why the CCTV cameras are going to get pictures of Muggles." Harry pulled the Toy Shop bag out from under the table and opened it enough for her to see what was in it."

"You're kidding," said Christine. Her eyes widening.

"For illusion only," said Harry, quickly, laying her fears to rest. "They're only toys. I need enough doubt in the equation for our world to be deniable. The Provisional IRA are already suspected, so let's continue that theme. This way we are unaccountable, and you are in the clear because the IRA seem to know everything the MoD do, You said before, that you may well be committing treason, but I don't believe you are. This is not for the good of my world or yours. This is about stopping a war that will destroy both out worlds."

"I know, but I still can't sleep at night," said Christine, she sounded weary and a little regretful.

Harry paused for a second, before extending am arm and resting it on her shoulders.

"I know this is hard," said Harry. "Once this is over, you'll sleep soundly. And if anything does happen, you're always welcome at Hogwarts. We can make you disappear if needs be or you desire."

"Thanks," she said. "But it's better for me to be here."

"Sure," said Harry. "Okay, I have to go and save the world, so catch you later."

"Bonne chance," said Christine.

"What?"

"It's French," said Christine. "It means good luck."

"Oh. Thanks," said Harry walking out the pub.

XxXxX

The four Gryffindors arrived in one group. The Room of Requirement was set out much like Gryffindor Tower, in that there were identical sofas around an identical fireplace with an identical heath rug. Harry was sitting in an armchair, facing the door. The flames in the fireplaces provided a little illumination; but enough to give his face a haunted appearance.

He gestured to the seats around him and the other four sank into them. Rose and Ginny appeared calm, while Ron and Hermione, who Harry noted sat as far apart as possible, looked rather unsure about the entire situation. He couldn't blame them. They hadn't been told what was happening. He thought back to how he felt stepping into the room with Voldemort last Thursday.

He looked around at each of their faces. Each of their eyes was so familiar, but not what lay behind them. Alike in appearance alone to those he knew, but that was enough. He paused again, wondering for the umpteenth time if involving them was the right thing to do. He hated getting them involved. Friends shared their secrets, while a real friend would protect them even if it meant keeping things from them and that is what Harry had been doing. He had kept Rose and Ginny far away from any action. He had not told Ron or Hermione the truth thus far, despite desperately wanting to be with his old friends.

He had had two things to consider when he was debating whether or not to involve his friends. Firstly there was the utterly cold and objective look. For political reasons he could not involve Crouch, the Ministry or anything of the sort in case news got back to the Muggles or Voldemort. He could not involve Dumbledore as he a, did not trust him, and b, would involve too many of the Order which was potentially compromised. He had considered involving Flamel. He had been wary of the old man for a while, as he snooped around in Harry's memories, as Harry feared he would go to Dumbledore with what he found. However, over time he had begun to trust his tutor and believed he would not pass on information to Dumbledore. His tutor and his mother were the two he came closest to telling about his little plan and asking for help, but somehow he knew they would stop his from going. With the Order and Ministry unavailable, and it being impossible to do alone, he was forced to turn to his friends for help.

As for the other debate as to whether to tell them, he had a serious problem with their being on the front line. Flamel had told him that was no place for a child, yet children think they know best. Harry had resented Dumbledore when he used this approach, but Harry had been shocked to discover he too was guilty. He hadn't told Ginny or Rose the danger they were in, nor the full truth about the war. He wanted to keep them safe and that meant keeping them ignorant, but now he was backed into a corner. They were the only ones he could turn to. They could fight, they had proved that last June in the Ministry and hopefully there would be no fighting anyway. But security was an issue for everyone's sakes. If anyone found out they were involved they would be hunted down. Also there was the danger of them letting it slip. As much as he loved his friends, their faults, just like his won were there for all to see. Ron had a big mouth and Malfoy could easily get him wound up. If Malfoy found out…perhaps Harry could pass it off as a trick as Malfoy believed him still to be loyal to Voldemort, but if Pansy Parkinson found out, that was a different kettle of fish. Maybe he would Obliviate them afterwards, if he could. If all went well, he could convince Flamel to do it. If Lily and James had really altered Rose's memory to protect her – and she did seem happy not knowing – then maybe it was all right. He felt a pang of guilt as he was just using them for his purpose and them discarding them when they were redundant, but it was in their best interest too. After all the debating he had made his choice. He had to tell them, and he knew that Hermione's inquisitive mind, would draw out more facts that he wanted to give out.

"Thank you for coming," said Harry to break the ice. "And once again for keeping this meeting a secret. What I am about to propose will be rather dangerous, but I believe necessary in order to prevent a war." He was going slowly, choosing each word carefully. He was about to continue when he was interrupted.

"We are already at war," said Ron, and Harry was sure he was going to add 'duh' on the end, but thought better of it. It was clear from his eyes that Ron still feared the Dark Knight.

"With Voldemort, yes," said Harry, nodding. There was a gasp at the name, from Ron and Hermione. Harry considered telling them off, but offending them when he needed them was a bad idea. As much as it annoyed him that people were scared of a name, he let it go. "But he is trying to start an all-out war between the Ministry and the Muggles."

"He's what?" gasped Hermione. She would be the worst affected by this, her family being Muggles. She would be removed from Hogwarts and God only knows what else.

"You've read the Prophet," said Harry. "The last fortnight's attacks were racially based. He spread mistrust with the nuclear bomb, and wizards have taken the law into their own hands. Look at it from the Muggle perspective. A groups of very powerful people are attacking them simply because they are Muggles and they have no way to fight back. If these attacks don't stop soon, Downing Street are going to declare war on the entire Wizarding Community, making no distinction between us and the Death Eaters. We will be dragged into a war we didn't start. Thousands will die on both sides if this happens, and I hate to think what will happen to the Muggleborns among us." He paused to allow his words to sink in. Ron looked disbelieving, Hermione very pale and Rose and Ginny a tad shaken.

"Something must be done," he continued. "I have a plan, but it must be done off the record with no involvement from our government, or Hogwarts. If we are caught we cannot involve our world. We will be arrested and sent to a Muggle jail, at best. My idea is quite dangerous, so we have now reached the point of no return. Anyone who does not want to go any further, who feels uncomfortable with this can go. All I ask is that you don't breath a word of this to anyone." In truth, if anyone left he would get Flamel to Obliviate them in the morning, though he hoped it would not be necessary. "For those of you courageous enough to fight for your country, I will tell you exactly what is going on, and ask you to accompany me on a little trip. This is not about power or reward. This about stopping a war and saving lives. This is not something I wished to happen, but it has and as a last resort I am asking for your help to save our nation and our friends. Will you come with me? Each of you, choose now."

Harry sat in his chair for a full minute without moving, except for his eyes. They darted from face to face surveying them. Rose was going to come; he could see that. Her face was set and she would follow him blindly. That was not always a good thing, but right now, it was necessary. God, he hoped nothing happened to her. Then there was Ginny. Her family were known supporters of Dumbledore anyway, but that didn't justify Harry's decision to bring her and Ron along. He had chosen them simply because they had been in the Ministry last year, and he knew they had the potential to fight. This was a big gamble and he hoped it paid off. If anything happened it would be all his own fault. He realised just how much danger he was putting them in, but there was no one else and he needed help. He hated having to do this, hated putting them in danger but it was the only way. The magical word must be deniable. If there was another way, he didn't know it. He couldn't go to Crouch; if he did, Voldemort might get wind of it and seize the devices. If Crouch went to the Muggle Government, they would ask where they got the information and they would know COBRA was compromised and Christine would be in danger. No, this was the only way.

A minute came and went. Not a single sound had been made. The time had come. Harry leaned forward once again.

"Rose?" he asked, gently.

"Count me in."

"Ginny?"

"Yep."

"Hermione?"

"Harry," she said slowly, "you haven't told us what is happening, or what is expected of us."

"So that if you choose 'no', you cannot give us away," said Harry, he had expected a little protest from her. He just hoped she had the courage of her counterpart inside her. "I've already told you this must be a secret meeting. I know I ask for a lot of trust."

"Then how about you throw some our way?" she asked firmly. Her face was set and Harry knew what was coming before she opened her mouth. "Who are you, really? You haven't lost your memory or anything of the sort. Since we're talking about trust, give us a genuine reason to trust you. Tell us who you really are and why you switched sides."

Rose had visibly paled. She cast a concerned look at Harry and then Ginny. She opened her mouth, but Harry silenced her by shaking his head. Harry's neutral mask had slipped into a sad expression. He knew that one day he would have to face this. He also knew that it would be her that figured it out. As much as he wanted to tell them everything, he almost didn't. He didn't want to put them in danger, but…that was what he was doing right now. This was his last chance to pull out? Was it really impossible to do it alone? Was there anyone else he could turn to? Of course not. This was the only way and there was no way Hermione would let his get away with less than the full truth. He only hoped that they believed him. He had barely believed it when he had found out, and someone as rational as Hermione wouldn't believe him without consulting a book and there were none on this topic.

"You truly are the brightest witch of your age," said Harry, shaking his head and smiling sadly. "And you're right. I never lost my memory." There was no point in lying. The time had come for the truth to out. He just hoped he could make it sound as though he was trustworthy.

"Hah! I knew it," concluded Ron, earning his glares from the other three. Ron seemed not to notice. "I knew there was something fishy about you!"

"Once I tell you, Hermione," said Harry, "there's no going back. You must keep this to yourself, and it will mark you as a target. If this ever gets out, the lives of millions will be put a risk. You must take this secret to your grave. Are you prepared for that?"

"If I go on this mission I will be a target, so it makes no difference, but I will not risk my life without a valid reason," she said. Harry nodded, smiling to himself. Maybe she wasn't so different from her counterpart in his world.

"Very well," said Harry. "I've wanted to tell you all for so long, but I was scared that you wouldn't believe me. This is going to sound like a whopper of a lie, but it's the truth." He took a deep breath and interlocked his fingers in his lap. Summoning up his courage, Harry began to speak. "My name is Harry Potter and I was born on the thirty-first of July, nineteen eighty…in a completely different universe." The effect was instant. Hermione's eyes nearly popped out of her head, before she recovered her composure and a sceptical look appeared on her face, while Ron's eyebrows shot into his hairline.

"You what?" echoed Ron. His mouth opened and closed like a fish, while Hermione leaned back, staring unblinkingly at Harry. She looked thoughtful and Harry could practically see the cogs whirring.

"You heard," said Harry, calmly to Ron. "In my world, at the age of one, my parents were murdered in front of me by Voldemort. In so doing, the Killing Curse that was meant for me rebounded on him, reducing him to a spirit. The world knew thirteen years of peace, but we became complacent. Two years ago, during the newly reinstated Triwizard Tournament, Voldemort got his body back. Since then we have been at war again. At the end of August this year, he came for me. In a three way duel between myself, Voldemort and Dumbledore, an unholy mixture of blood magic, Killing Curses, shields, ancient relics and other magic was enough to force me sideways in time. I effectively have possessed your Harry's body. Where his soul is, I cannot say, but I have a nasty feeling that that monster is in my world, a world containing an even more powerful Dark Lord, and totally unprepared for the Dark Knight." Ron and Hermione stared at him in silence for a few seconds, eyes wide and mouths gaping.

"In my world," said Harry, "there is a Prophecy predicting that the war will end in a duel between myself and Voldemort, a duel only one of us will walk away from. Even here, it seems it boils down to a contest between him and me. Since being here I have gained some of the other Harry's skills and instincts, hence the martial arts, swords and that. In my world, I'm just your normal boy, more or less, with no great power or skill. Dumbledore will return me to my world once Voldemort is six feet under in this one - if I survive, that is." He left out the part about the Boy-Who-Lived, not wanting to sound egotistical. He told them only what they needed to know as briefly as possible. It was interesting watching their reactions. Hermione sat unmoving, the calculating look never leaving her face. She was not his friend her, so tears were not going to happen. She was still looking pensive as he regarded her. Ron on the other hand was still gaping like a fish. As Harry had spoken, his face had gone through all the usual expressions of confused, disbelieving, curious, confused, mystified, bamboozled, confused, shocked, awe and then confused.

"This whole war hangs on you?" asked Ron, unable to grasp the situation.

"If you believe in Prophecy, and I am talking about real Prophecy, not the bollocks Trelawney teaches," said Harry, "then yes. One of us must die at the hand of the other."

"Talk about the lesser of two evils," muttered Ron to himself. Ginny lashed out with her foot but was out of range.

"It's true, Ron" ventured Ginny, breaking the silence. "He's not the monster we knew."

"You knew?" thundered Ron. "My sister…why not…how…? You knew and you never told me!"

"So that's why you asked me about multiple universes last month," said Hermione thoughtfully, glancing at Ginny. She looked as if she was kicking herself for not seeing it sooner. She gave a frustrated glare at her feet, before looking back at Harry. Ron still looked like steam was about to come out of his ears. "Do you have any proof?" said Hermione.

"No," said Harry, shaking his head sadly. "This is his body, with his scars and his DNA. I don't have his memories, so you can't ask me questions only I would know. I only have echoes of his more violent memories, Black Noel for instance. All I have that's really mine is this scar." He pointed to his forehead. "Where the Killing Curse struck when I was one."

"No one can survive the Killing Curse," said Hermione sceptically. Harry couldn't blame her. Two fundamental laws, laws she knew to be true, had been broken by Harry.

"No one can travel between worlds," said Harry calmly. "But here I am." He really wished he had brought the Pensieve to show them; it would make things so much simpler. But it was too late now. "In my world, I've know you since the very first train journey all those years ago, when Ron ate half my chocolates." He smiled to himself at the memory, while Ginny shot a smirk at her brother.

"We were all in Gryffindor. Together, we fought our way past McGonagall's giant chess board, three headed dogs, basilisks, Dementors, dragons, acromatulae, yes even you Ron. Together, you two, myself, Ginny, Luna and Neville Longbottom were ambushed in the Ministry last summer. The six of us fought off an army of the highest ranking Death Eaters Voldemort commands, including Rodolphus Lestrange, Bellatrix Black and Lucius Malfoy."

"I suppose Neville Longbottom is alive in you world," said Hermione a little sceptically.

"Yes," said Harry, the image of the timid little boy filling his mind.

"And Rose?"

"Was never born," answered Harry.

"You said you were attacked when you were one, but if she is only ten months younger than you then why wasn't she born?" asked Hermione.

"I don't know why," said Harry. "In my world my parents went into hiding because a Prophecy was made naming me or Neville as the one who could bring about Voldemort's defeat. They were in hiding for a good few months before Wormtail gave us up. Perhaps they felt this wasn't the time to bring another child into the world. I don't know. They died years ago so I never got the chance to ask." He realised that his voice was now laced with anger, and he quickly squashed it. Hermione backed off, but Ron didn't seem to notice his frustration.

"You are saying that we fought off Death Eaters?" asked Ron sceptically. "Even Loony Lovegood?

"Yes," said Harry. "And for your information, after myself and Neville, Luna was the last man standing. You were attacked by a weird Brain-thing within minutes. Ginny blew up a planet in the face of one of them. I never knew Neville and Luna had it in them." The others looked on disbelievingly. Harry stared at his feet, lost in memory.

"And Granger?" asked Ron, coldly. How could they be so hostile here, when in his world they were such the opposite? It just went to show that Harry was the influence that brought them together. He made a note to tell them if he ever saw them again.

"That's 'Hermione' to you," said Harry calmly. "And since you ask, in my world, you're such a sweet couple."

"Yuck!" said both of them simultaneously, looking outraged. Harry didn't even bother to hide his smile.

"Believe it," said Harry. "Everyone can see it, but you two refuse to acknowledge it. It's cute in an odd sort of way." Harry realised that they were wasting time. He needed to bring them back to the problem at hand: Artic Thunder. "Hermione, you're the smartest witch of you age, but the Hermione I knew was the greatest." Hermione looked affronted.

"The difference being?" said Hermione hotly.

"The Hermione I knew put her life on the line time and time again for what she believed in," said Harry. "She realised that books were only part of magic. You are so much like her, but without the fire in your eyes. You can't spend your life reading about how others lived and lost theirs or you'll forget to live. I'd trust my Hermione with my life, and I have, time and time again."

Hermione's eyes were glistening slightly. Harry's words had clearly affected her quite deeply.

"As for Ron," said Harry turning to face him, "having five brothers left him with a lot to live up to. He wasn't head boy, Quidditch captain or anything like that; he was better: he was a hero. He fought down McGonagall's giant Chess set, Death Eaters and even went into the Chamber of Secrets with me."

"Ginny," he continued turning to her, "a sister I almost counted as my own. I faced a Basilisk for you, and you always felt that you'd never repay me. You did, Gin, by simply being around. You were my replacement as Seeker, my friend and an inspiration. You were there when I felt most alone."

"Ever since I can remember I have tried to keep you guys out of danger," said Harry. "Now I have no choice. I need your help, and I can't do this alone. In my world, in our country's time of need we rose to the challenge. Now I ask you to rise with me. Voldemort is on the verge of acquiring a weapon that would render Hogwarts defenceless. If he gets it, Hogwarts will fall and it will not be a battle, it will be genocide, the systematic extermination of all but the Pureblood among us. So I am asking each of you now, will you help me to help you?"

"I'm in," said Rose.

"Me too," said Ginny.

"And me," said Hermione.

"And there is no way Ginny is going without me," said Ron.

"Now I feel much better," said Ginny sarcastically.

Before Ron could retort, Harry cut them off. He rolled out the blueprints and a map in front of them. They all slid off their chairs and onto the floor. A bright light appeared above their heads, making it easier to read. This room was really useful.

"Okay," said Harry. "This is off the record. Dumbledore will not know this is happening. Crouch must be deniable, and so will not be informed. The Order of the Phoenix must not find out."

"The Order of the Phoenix actually exists?" asked Hermione raising an eyebrow. "I thought it was a legend. No one has ever seen or caught a member of the Order. The Ministry has never confirmed their existence."

"They exist alright," said Ginny.

"We're all members," added, Ron in a superior tone.

"Not strictly true," said Ginny, shooting Ron an annoyed glance. "Our parents are in it. We aren't allowed. Harry's in it, though." Hermione glanced at Harry again, but said nothing. "Dumbledore is in charge," continued Ginny. "We have spies in most departments of the Ministry."

"You mustn't breathe a word of this to anyone," reiterated Harry. "Anyhow, back to tonight. Project Artic Thunder. The Muggle government felt that the Ministry are losing the war against Voldemort. As a fail safe, they started a secret project to produce a weapon that would stop all magic within five miles of it when activated. Three such devices exist. As you can imagine, just one of these things could bring down the wards of Hogwarts, making it easy for Voldemort to enter and slit the throats of anyone who stood in his way. I am proposing that we enter this facility, destroy two of them, and commandeer the third."

"You want us to break into an army building and steal a top secret weapon?" asked Ginny. The Weasleys and Rose looked up at Harry in surprise. He merely nodded. Hermione was already leaning over the blueprint. It was full of technical diagrams as well as a map, which meant little to Harry and nothing to Ginny and Ron.

"Harry," said Hermione slowly, "if I'm reading this correctly, and I'd like to think I am, this is as secure as a bank vault. Even if we get inside the hut, the lift is protected by God Knows what kind of locks, fail-safes and anti-intruder devices. To make things worse, if this is military, I am guessing there will be guards with guns to get passed and CCTV cameras. You do not simply walk into a building like this and just walk out."

"For those of us who don't speak techno?" asked Ginny.

"I'll explain," said Harry, taking a deep breath. "Remember the mission in Devon when I was apparently captured?" They all nodded. "Well in fact, that was a raid by Death Eaters on the facility where the weapons were being kept. To be fair, Voldemort didn't know they existed at the time. He was looking for a chamber in the Department of Mysteries, and Lucius Malfoy provided inaccurate information that that room was in Devon. Anyhow, after the attack, the Ministry of Defence moved the project from Mary Tavy to Princetown. It's a small village fifteen miles east-south-east of Mary Tavy. There's a TV mast here, and at the base, or rather below the hut at the base of the tower, there is another underground facility used by the M.O.D. They have long used Dartmoor as a firing range, leaving unexploded rounds and debris all over the moor, and annoying the locals, but that's beside the point. What does matter, is that this place houses a state-of-the-art security system that rivals Gringotts."

"Wait," said Hermione. "I've been thinking, politically, that is. You said this was a weapon designed to stop us, if Voldemort wins?" Harry nodded. "If we destroy it, won't they see that as an attempt to render them defenceless?"

"Good point," said Harry. He had thought of this. He was quite proud of his political thinking that evening. The Prime Minister was jumpy as it was and destroying his only line of defence was not going to sit well with him. The Wizarding World must be completely deniable, otherwise a mission designed to stop a war could potentially start one. After all, why should they not be allowed a weapon that could potentially damage the Wizarding World when wizards have hundreds that could devastate their world? But then again, what gave Harry the right to police the country? But this had to be done. The only way to keep the world safe was to keep it safe from You-Know-Who. "That's true, Hermione," he conceded. "Which is why the CCTV cameras will show them that this was a Muggle attack."

"How?" asked Hermione raising an eyebrow.

"I stopped off at a few shops in London," said Harry.

"I knew that money wasn't for books," said Rose, cracking a smile and shaking her head.

"The money you spent on booze for your party was also supposed to be for books," Harry shot back. Rose didn't respond, but she shot him a frustrated glance. "Anyhow," said Harry. "I brought these." He threw a piece of fabric at each of them.

"A balaclava?" asked Rose. "Hiding our faces won't do much to represent us as Muggles." Harry ignored her, reaching deeper into the bag.

"And these," continued Harry, removing a box and passing it to Hermione.

"You're kidding," said Hermione, staring wide-eyed at the box. Inside the box that Harry held out was a small black plastic pistol. Harry smiled slightly at her.

"They're not real," Harry reassured her. "They're only water pistols, but they look real enough for the cameras to be fooled. We use wands, but keep these on show. It's not foolproof, but enough doubt is there so Crouch can honestly say he didn't know about it and the evidence points to the Muggles. They'll blame the IRA or something." Rose nodded, smiling to herself.

"This is lunacy," said Ron, throwing the water-pistol back to Harry.

"It's this or we wait for Voldemort to get it and then come knocking on Hogwarts doors," said Harry. "I'm sorry to rush you, but if we hesitate, he will get the key to Hogwarts. All wards will fail, we will be defenceless. Without starting a war, this is the only plan I have. If you don't like it, fine, give me a better one, but we are not going to sit here waiting for him to come."

"How long do we have to plan?" asked Ginny, presumably ready to go on the trip. She seemed quite keen on it.

"Four hours," said Harry.

"What?" stammered the others at the same time.

"Midnight," said Harry. He knew this was pushing them and asking a lot, but they couldn't wait. If Voldemort beat them to it, it would be catastrophic for all. Also, it gave less time for people to find out about the plan, since they wouldn't be seen together. "We can't wait. Voldemort might know where this thing is. We can't wait. If we do, he may get it first."

"He's in prison," said Ron. Harry got the feeling he just didn't want to go, but couldn't admit he was scared.

"And if one of these things was activated in the Ministry," said Harry, "his cell would fail and he would be released. The Aurors would be defenceless. He'd take over in one attack." He paused to let his words sink in. "Remember Lucius Malfoy, Bellatrix Lest...Black and the old crew are still at large. We need to keep this out of their hands. Here we have the blueprints to the bunker. We have the opportunity and the water-pistols to give the illusion of this being Muggle. If you can think of a better plan, I'm all ears, but don't tell me we're giving up."

"If we could thieve dad's old cloak," said Rose thoughtfully, "we could sneak one or two in. Then we can unlock it for the rest of us." That was more like it; constructive thoughts. Her brow was furrows in thought.

"No magic on the cameras," said Harry. The cameras must not see anyone put on or take off a cloak, but they could use it none the less, as long as they were careful where they took it off and put it on. "But if we can get the cloak, it would be great."

"I can swipe it," said Rose. "I know where he squirrels it."

"You mean where Mum hides it from him and us," corrected Harry, with a small grin.

"Precisely," Rose concurred.

"You said security was tight. Will the Alohomora Charm work on electronic locks?" asked Ginny. Harry hadn't actually thought of that. It was a good point. There was no artificial intelligence in a spell. It couldn't crack a code, so would it work? If it didn't this would be the shortest offensive of all time. Harry turned to Hermione, searching for an answer.

"Unless they are computer-based," said Hermione. "As long as they have a bolt and are mechanical in principle then a keypad is no problem. If they are magnetic or electronically sealed then no. The spell can open a padlock or a vault door, but not crack a computer password. " Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

"Okay," said Harry. "Let's start planning, and remember: no overt magic. We must be deniable."

XxXxX

The Princetown Television mast stands on top of a concrete bunker at the top of Higher Longford Tor just outside the tiny village of Princetown. It is practically the centre of the moor, a title that can also be claimed by the neighbouring village of Two Bridges. The mast stands over two hundred feet high with a beacon on top to stop aircraft flying into it. The night was crystal clear and the glowing red beacon flashed on and off high above them. The uneven earth and tufts of grass swayed slightly in the autumn breeze. Luckily, the Tor was a long and flat assent rather than a short and steep one. The going wasn't too hard on the grounds that a clear path had been made by flocks of sheep and herds of ponies. As such it was free from bogs and the gorse was sparse enough to pass easily. A dry stone wall ran along the right of the path right up to the hut and all the way down to the edge of Princetown. It was there that the Knight Bus dropped them after their broom flight to Hogsmeade. They didn't dare use Portkeys; the Ministry could now monitor them again and asking an adult for one risked being caught. The Bus dropped them outside a pub called the Prince of Wales in the centre of Princetown. From there they hiked up to the mast. It was less than a mile.

There were lights coming from the single-room concrete block. If you didn't know what lay beneath, you would never have guessed that this mundane concrete shed housed the most secret secret the Ministry of Defence had. It was the British answer to Area 51, though as with most American comparisons, on a slightly smaller scale.

The Gryffindors lay on their stomach dressed entirely in black, wearing balaclavas and holding both their wands and the toy guns Harry had brought. The uneven ground and clumps of long grass, bracken and gorse made it easy to hide. Harry stared up at the tower. He could see a small camera mounted on the corner of the building above the door. Extra security drew attention. Two Bridges and this area of the moor was very popular with tourists so they had to be very minimalist. This would work in their favour. Harry slipped off his backpack and checked the contents. It held a large roll of duct tape, a flask of lamp oil, his water pistol and plenty of room for the prize. Rose had the cloak which she had pilfered from their parents.

The night was cool and a gentle breeze was blowing. Harry was warm enough in his clothes and the balaclava would keep his ears warm. He pulled it over his head and gestured for the others to do the same. After all, they couldn't have caught the Knight Bus and walked through Princetown dressed as terrorists, could they? The breeze was gentle enough for them to be able to hear what was around them without the whistling of the breeze. Harry glanced around to make sure the coast was clear. He could hear the roar of a car engine not too far away. He waited in silence for a minute until the headlights could be seen over the edge of the hill coming from the road below. Harry couldn't se the car because of the angle of the hill, but the sound of the engine told him it was there. It was so loud. The moors were not properly policed and didn't hold Speed Cameras so speeding was common practice. It must be doing at least sixty if not seventy, and the limit was forty. Probably a boy racer or someone stupid, with a spoiler and skirts pinned onto a tiny clapped-out banger which was falling apart aside from the brand new Porsche badge super-glued over the top of the original badge. Some people were just plain sad. Harry wondered what the Dudleymobile would be.

"Harry," hissed Hermione from her place three feet behind him, also lying on her belly. He turned to face her. Her eyes stared warily out from under the balaclava.

"You see that building over there?" She pointed down the hill and across the valley to the other side of Princetown. She was pointing at a large complex of old stone buildings surrounded by high walls and covered in small windows. It was topped with huge chimneys and surrounded on one side by allotments.

"What is it?"

"That's Dartmoor Prison," she said. "That's where we'll end up if this goes wrong. Are you sure we have everything covered after just three hours of planning?"

"Trust me," said Harry, giving her a confident nod. Inside he was not so confident. He nearly pointed out that she wasn't right; in fact, if they were caught they would be shot on sight rather than arrested. Still, it was best to keep information like that to himself. It was the pain of leadership.

Bringing his mind back to the present, Harry waited for the car to disappear before nodding to Rose. According to the plan, she was the first to move. Harry was impressed with how she was dealing with this. She was a precocious as her mother, but also very brave. Wrapped in the cloak they had borrowed from their father, Rose crept forward. Invisible to everyone including the camera, Rose knocked on the door.

After a few seconds, the door opened. Harry dug further into the ground as the light from the bunker shone out over the ground. Rose left no shadow as the cloak wrapped around her. The man was short and a tad podgy. This meant that he filled up the doorway leaving no room for Rose to slip inside. He glanced both ways and then grunted. He stepped out into the darkness. Harry couldn't see, but he hoped Rose had done her job and slipped past him.

"HELLO?" called the man into the darkness.

The man glanced both ways one more time. It was another fifteen seconds before he went back inside. He closed the door behind him with a bang. Harry rose up to his knees, the others following. There was a three quarter moon in the sky and they could see well enough not to trip up. The plan was for Rose to unlock the door from the inside twenty seconds after the door closed. Harry started counting.

As he reached twenty, he pulled the toy gun out of his belt and held it out in front of him. He had his wand in his other hand, in a clenched fist with the tip downwards, like a knife in that infamous scene in Psycho. He twisted his wrist and held it up horizontally so the wand pointed out in front and then rested his gun arm on the wand arm. The result was that both the gun and wand pointed out in front of him.

Waiting ten more seconds, he nodded to the others then ran forward. He got to the door in three seconds and pushed the handle down. He was thankful that the door slipped open easily. He kicked it open and stepped inside. The tubby man had been watching TV in a wooden chair, but turned in surprise as the door crashed open. Harry hoped that Rose had not been behind the door when he had kicked it. 'Tubby' was staring at Harry with wide-eyes, the remote control to the television still in his hands. Harry levelled the gun at the man.

"Don't ya move, ya focker!" he shouted in his best Irish accent. He saw out of the corner of his eye another camera in the room. Luckily his face was concealed behind a balaclava and the gun covered his wand. The fat man was too scared to move. His mouth opened and closed in rapid succession, like a fish, and he was shaking. Harry stepped closer to him and brought the gun down on the back on his neck. Being only plastic it didn't render him unconscious, but it did knock him to the ground. Harry quickly knelt next to him, and making sure his body covered his wand from the camera, levelled it at the man.

"Stupefy!" he hissed. The man went limp on the floor. By now Rose should have slipped outside and would return with the others, this time free of the cloak. As long as she didn't take it off in front of the camera, they were fine. Harry took a roll of Duct-Tape out of his pocket and began to bind the man. So far so good. The guns had been seen and his appalling Irish accent had been heard. Hopefully, the IRA would be blamed and Crouch could make a genuine denial. Harry realised the danger if they were caught; not only to himself, but to his friends and Christine. They were hiding not only from the Muggle government, but from their own. This mission was illegal in every way.

Two seconds later, the other four came into the room.

"Okay," whispered Harry. "If any alarms go off, deactivate them with this switch here." He pointed to the line of red buttons on one consol, marked 'Alarm'. If anyone comes, stun them, but remember to use the guns. Hermione, if you would see to the lock. Rose, the cloak, if you would."

She handed him the cloak while Hermione went to work on the lock. Harry checked the monitors to their right. At the bottom of the lift shaft was a corridor with two soldiers carrying machine guns. There was a camera in the lift, which was another problem. They couldn't be seen in the lift or the corridor so the cloak was needed again. Hermione had used a knife she found to wedge the keypad off the wall. As such she could get to the mechanism itself. A simple Alohomora charm would then open the door.

Ron was tall enough to reach the camera in the room. He bent it out of the way so it wasn't facing them. Harry pulled the invisibility cloak over himself and Hermione. Hermione pointed her wand at the lock from under the cloak and uttered the simple spell. The metallic double doors slid smoothly open revealing a list. Covered by the cloak and stooping slightly so it didn't reveal their ankles, they entered the lift and pressed the button to the bottom floor. The doors slid shut, blocking their view of the others. They were on their own for the time being. Harry's stomach jumped into his throat as the lift slid silently yet quickly downward. There was a metallic scraping as they descending into the pit. According to the plan, it was a six hundred foot descent. He could feel Hermione shaking next to him. He could feel her trembling body against his. He wrapped an arm gently around her. She wasn't used to this sort of thing. She was used to books, so it must be terrifying for her, but she was beginning to act like the other Hermione.

"It's okay," whispered Harry. "We'll be fine."

She nodded under the cloak. The doors slid open and they found themselves in a grey corridor with a yellow stripe on the right hand wall at waist height. It was about twenty metres long with large metal doors at the far end. On either side of the doors was a soldier wearing the red beret of the Royal Military Police. They each were dressed in camouflage and raised their guns as the doors opened. Harry could see the surprise on their faces as lift was apparently empty. He and Hermione stepped out of the lift, covered in the cloak. They crept further forward, not daring to breath as they approached two men with guns, armed only with a water-pistol (an unloaded water-pistol at that). The soldiers were on the cameras so they had to be careful in how they handled this.

Hermione, of course, had it sorted. She extended an arm towards the men. With a few well-chosen words, the man began to yawn. In a few seconds, both of them we swaying where they stood. It was nearly a full minute before they collapsed. Harry gestured for Hermione to kneel with him. Together they sank to their knees over the bodies and Harry stunned each of them to make sure they didn't wake up. That done, they returned to the lift and went back up to the security room. Ron held the camera in another direction while they removed the cloak.

"Rose and Ginny," said Harry, "you stay here. If anyone comes…do what you can. If it gets too much, take the cloak and run. Don't wait for us, understand?" He knew that in their position he would never abandon them, but he needed them to trust him.

"Got it," said Ginny, though Harry had a feeling she wasn't being entirely honest.

Harry stepped into the lift with Ron and Hermione behind him. The doors closed and once again they headed downwards. The Trio were together again. It was a far more significant moment for Harry than for them. They didn't fancy each other here. Harry missed the comedy of their interactions sometimes, but a relief from their arguing was always welcome. Still it felt good to be with his friends again.

The doors opened and the three of them ran to the far end. Hermione went to work on the lock while Ron and Harry bound the soldiers' wrists and ankles with Duct-Tape. After a few seconds there was a whoosh and the door slid silently open. It reminded Harry for an instant of Voldemort's cell door. He wondered if they could store Voldemort down here until the end of time. Pushing the thought aside, he rose to his feet.

Harry stepped over the threshold and into the laboratory. The room was large and octagonal in design. There were all sorts of instruments and computers on all the desks. The walls were bare and made of stone while the floor was a grill through which he could see pipes, the same as the ceiling.

"Dad's paradise," muttered Ron, staring at the computers.

"Shhh," said Harry. There might be voice recorders in the room. He stepped forward on the grate floor. Beneath him he could see a load of pipes and tubes. Above him was a ventilator shaft and all around him the stone walls were painted white. He was on the upper level of the lab. In front of him were some steps that went down eight feet to a lower level. The upper section ran around the edge of the room and was about two metres wide. There was a rail around most of it. In the middle of the lower section was a table with three devices on it.

"Bingo!" said Harry pointing. "You guys, make a mess and take anything that looks interesting. Make it look like a robbery gone wrong."

There was a series of crashes as Ron forced his way into a glass cabinet. Hermione was slightly more decorous and she knocked over a microscope, but pocketed something from a worktop. Harry slid down the letter.

"Cool!" came Ron's voice. Harry glanced up to see him looking at a workspace. He had touched the computer and now the screen was active with a picture of a woman displaying all her endowments. Hermione shot him a tired glare, while Harry turned back to the devices. They looked rather like giant rugby balls except made of metal with golden, or probably brass rings around the edges and several lights and buttons on one side. There was a notepad next to them. Harry picked it up and began to flick through it. It showed how to arm and use the devices. Harry pocketed the book and then slipped his backpack off. He picked up the middle device and placed it gently in the bag. He did the bag up and slung it over his back. He then moved on to the next device. He took out his wand and stuck it into a hold in the casing.

"Reducto!" he hissed. There was a flash and the smell of burning wires.

"Fluvias!" he muttered. He flooded the inside with water, which he was fairly certain would short circuit the internal workings if there was any left. That done he dropped it on the floor and stamped on it three times then did the same to the other device. He then piled them up on top of each other. Next he removed the small flask of lamp oil from his bag and poured it liberally over the devices. He flicked on the lighter he had brought from a newsagent and then dropped it onto the devices and watched as the two metal cases went up in flames of healthy orange. That should prevent anyone repairing them.

"Come on," said Harry, turning to climb the ladder back up to the upper level. Ron and Hermione had succeeded in making a mess; there was hardly a pane of glass that wasn't smashed and most of the instruments had been upturned. As much as Harry hated theft and common violence, it was necessary to maintain the illusion.

They headed back out the room, closing the door behind them, (the lab was air-tight so the fire would not spread). They stepped over the bodies of the fallen soldiers and hurried to the lift. As the door slid shut, Harry resisted the urge to jump for joy. They had done it! They had the device and there had been no fatalities. They had gotten away with it. Success! He glanced over at the others. Ron was smiling and Hermione seemed quietly content. They still had their balaclavas on, but Harry could see Ron's pearly whites.

Now all they had to do was catch the Knight Bus from Princetown to Hogsmeade where brooms were concealed. Then they burn the clothes and guns and they were home free. It was almost over. The doors slid open and the other two came into view. Both of them were looking nervous, but smiled as the trio emerged from the lift.

"Got it?" asked Ginny.

"Yep," said Harry, pointing over his shoulder at the bag. "Was any of the magic seen?" he asked pointing at the cameras. He wanted to make absolutely sure. He was fairly sure they had been watching over the CCTV cameras.

"Nope," said Rose. "The guards randomly fell asleep, but no one was seen." Excellent. They had no proof of magical involvement. Crouch could in all honestly deny any knowledge and the magical world would not be blamed.

"Fantastic," said Harry, heading for the door. He pointed at the unconscious fat man as he passed "Nick his wallet and then we'll go."

"Rob him?" asked Hermione. Her conscience was clashing as well as Harry's, but it needed to be done.

"To make this look like common criminals," explained Harry. He wanted to justify his instruction, but he wanted to be out of here as soon as possible. "We have no use for pounds and pence. Just do it!" Hermione didn't move, but Ron did.

The man was lying on his back and Ron reached into his back trouser pocket and pulled out a leather wallet. He dropped it in his pocket and then nodded to Harry. He apparently had less of an issue with theft. Harry reached for the door, but before he got there it was thrown open.

"Okay, Ollie," said the soldier standing in the door holding a plastic bag. "One chips and curry for y…." he froze as his eyes fell on the five masked intruders. His eyes grew wide and in an instant there was a gun in his hand.

"ARMY! FREEZE!" he shouted, levelling the gun at Harry. Harry instantly grabbed the gun and forced it upwards. His ears nearly burst as a shot rang out into the ceiling. He let go of the gun with one hand and drove his elbow into the stomach of the other man. He then twisted his wrist and yanked down hard, throwing the solider over his shoulder in a judo throw.

"Run!" he shouted to the others. They didn't need to be told twice. There was a thundering of feet as the other four surged past him and out into the night. Harry's hands were still clamped over the soldier's wrists, forcing the gun away from him. He twisted the gun free of the man's hands and threw it out the door. The soldier was back on his feet in an instant, a combat knife in his hands. Harry wished he could use his wand, but they had to be deniable. The water-pistol was in his bag and if the soldier found out it was a fake, they'd be for it. He had to do this the old fashioned way.

"Come on, you focker!" snapped Harry in his pathetic Irish accent.

The soldier lunged at him. Harry sidestepped, punching the soldier in the cheek in the process and spinning away. The soldier turned and swung the knife. Harry jumped backwards out of reach, but in so doing, he landed on a computer consol. The soldier was on top of him in and instant, His back was bent backward over the worktop. The weight of the soldier was crushing the air out of his lungs and the knife was bearing down on his face. Harry's hands clasped over the soldiers wrist, trying to force the knife away from his face. Fighting Death Eaters was one thing, but this man was a trained killer. The man was on top and had gravity on his side. He was older, tougher and stronger than Harry and the knife was dangerously close to his face.

"Rictusempra!" choked Harry. The soldier's hands went limp as a tickling sensation filled his arms. Harry took the opportunity to throw the man off him. The tickling didn't delay him for long. The man dived at him again, but Harry quickly sidestepped and man surged past. Harry picked up the pot of hot curry sauce and threw it over him. The scolding hot liquid covered the soldiers face.

The man screamed in pain and dropped the knife as it burned his face and hands. Harry didn't think twice. He turned and surged out the door into the night. He didn't stop running until the reached the streets of Princetown. It was a miracle he got that far without twisting his ankle on the uneven ground of the Tor. The streets were deserted, as it was nearly one in the morning. A car was turning at the mini-roundabout ahead, but wasn't coming his way. He removed his balaclava and continued to run. He reached the Prince of Wales in another two minutes.

As Harry reached the pub he stopped. He leaned against the wall, panting from the exertion. He glanced around, unable to see his friends. They must have gone already. He had told them not to wait after all.

"You look knackered," said a voice. Harry spun around to see the other four emerge from the bushes of the house opposite him. Harry cracked a smile at the sight of his friends. They hadn't left him. He breathed a sigh of relief. They had gotten away with it after all. Now they just needed to get home.

"All right?" he asked.

"More or less," said Ron, no longer wearing his balaclava.

"Let's go home," said Harry.

"Let's," said Ginny, holding out her wand. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He glanced down the road to check for any signs of pursuit; he was glad to see an empty street, as the purple triple-decker appeared out of thin air. They had nearly lost everything, but tonight had been a success.

Luckily, neither Dean nor Seamus had closed the window to the sixth year boys dorms in Gryffindor Tower. The two beds were curtained off, and the sound of snores were clearly audible as the five slipped into the room. They had burned the balaclavas and gloves and then flown back on brooms, right up to the window.

Harry thanked each of them in turn in whispers. The others looked tired, but a little excited as well. There were smiles as they felt oddly pleased with themselves. Now he just hoped they could keep their mouths shut. As they all disappeared into their own rooms, Harry slipped out of Gryffindor Tower and into the school. He had one more stop to make before he went to bed tonight.

As Harry stepped through the painting of the bowl of fruit, the aroma of freshly baked bread filled his nostrils, making his mouth water. A tidal wave of elves surged forward, eager to serve. Harry wasn't sure if they would help him, given that he wasn't a student. That didn't seem to bother them.

"What does master wish us to be doing?" asked a short elf as he approached. Harry glanced around. There were far too many of them. He only needed one, one he could trust.

"Can I talk to you alone?" said Harry. Immediately the other elves back off, while the elf in question looked like Christmas had come early. He stared at Harry with wide eyes. Harry hoped he wasn't going to 'do a Dobby' and start crying about how wonderful he was.

That's a point. Where is Dobby? wondered Harry.

Presumably, since the incident with the Chamber of Secrets never happened, Lucius still had the diary and Dobby was still Draco's punch-bag. Harry felt a pang of regret over his old friend. He wished he could do something, but he had no reason or desire to go near any of the Malfoys. Putting up with Draco took all his patience.

Harry sat down on a stool, and the elf climbed up onto the bench next to him. There other elves were several feet away so Harry was fairly comfortable talking.

"What's your name?" asked Harry, breaking the ice. Aching all over from his run, he reached over his shoulder and took the backpack off.

"P…Perky," replied the elf in a timid voice. He seemed to have some trouble dealing with the fact that Harry had picked him over all the others. Harry was certain a 'Dobby-spell' was coming, so he kept speaking.

"Okay, Perky, I need you to do something for me," whispered Harry. He held the backpack out to the elf. "This is a secret, and you must not tell anyone about it, even Professor Dumbledore." He knew that this was against the nature of the elf, but he had to ask.

"But Perky is Master Dumbledore's elf, he cannot lie to professor Dumbledore," protested the elf, predictably.

"I'm not asking you to lie," said Harry gently. "If he asks you directly, tell him, but don't tell him if he doesn't ask, okay?" the elf thought about for a second before nodding reluctantly. "You can't tell anyone else, you can't even tell anyone that I have come here." The elf nodded again.

Harry handed the backpack it to Perky. "I need you to keep this safe for me," he said. "It's nothing dangerous, but I need you to hide it. You must not tell anyone you have it, or that I was here. Don't open it, either, okay?"

The elf nodded stared down at the bag.

"I've got to go," he said Harry checking his watch. "Thank you, Perky, I appreciate it." The elf nearly fell off his perch in shock, but quickly nodded. He then turned on his heel and, carrying the bag above his head, disappeared through a door. Harry just hoped that when he got it back it wasn't covered in eggs and flour. No, impossible, elves were too clean for that. They would probably scrub the bag and starch the straps.

Harry left the kitchen and headed towards the Room of Requirement. He felt that he had better not risk waking his mother tonight. He had been walking for a few minutes when a sudden feeling of sickness overtook him. He doubled up in pain, grasping his stomach. His Phoenix senses were going hay-wire as he fell to his knees in pain. He felt sick, and was covered in a cold sweat. Suddenly a streak of pain shot through his head. It wasn't his scar, but something else. Icy pain surged into every corner of his brain. He grasped at his temples as he fell to his knees.

Suddenly, as quickly as it had come, it was all gone. Harry looked up and glanced around, gasping for breath. He was standing outside the Gargoyles.

This isn't the way to the Room of Requirement, thought Harry to himself as he rubbed his aching temples. How the hell had he gotten up here, when he had set off in the opposite direction? He had been deep in thought, letting his feet lead him. He hadn't been looking where he was going and had probably taken a wrong turn. Idiot. I'm losing it, he concluded. I need rest.

He felt tired and achy and he was trembling slightly. Must be posttraumatic stress. Even the SAS are said to puke after some missions. It was delayed onset of adrenalin, delayed shock as it were. Nothing a good night's sleep wouldn't fix.

Confident that Artic Thunder was safe, Harry returned to the staff quarters. At least Voldemort could never get his hands on it. Mission accomplished, no casualties. Tonight, the light had won a decisive victory over the forces of darkness. Now, Harry just hoped that Ron could keep his mouth shut.

XxXxX

From the Daily Telegraph, Tuesday 26th November 1996…

IRA ATTACKS BRITISH ARMY BASE!

In the early hours of this morning, the Good Friday agreement was undermined as the Provisional IRA attacked an British Army facility in Devon. The cease fire that has held fast for the last few years was shattered as five armed men entered a secret facility by force. While there are no fatalities, this could potentially mark the end of the cease-fire between Crown forces and the IRA.

Sinn Fein, the political wing of the IRA, have issued a statement denying any responsibility for the attack. "The IRA always admit to what they do," said Sinn Fein leader Jerry Addams in a press conference this morning. "That has always been our policy and I can assure the British government that the IRA had nothing to do with last night's attacks."

An investigation has been launched by the Royal Military Police. Police are said to be interviewing those on duty that night and reviewing the CCTV footage. A source in the army has said that five men armed with pistols and speaking with Irish accents forced their way into the facility. It is unclear whether anything was stolen or damaged. The commanding office of the facility, Major Bowden, was unavailable for comment.

XxXxX

Albus Dumbledore entered the Minister's own department in the Ministry of Magic. The one man had a surprising amount of man-power considering the times and the recent butchering of Aurors. Two rows of three desks stretched out in front of him, each identically set out with a lamp, quill, ink and parchment. The only things that were missing were the secretaries that worked there. They would arrive at work in about an hour. The Minister had six secretaries, and Albus had never understood why. Apparently, one was for Law Enforcement, one was for International Relations, one was for Muggle Relations, one was the Hogwarts Liaison, though this seemed obsolete and nowadays, Albus and Crouch worked so close that there was no need for a go-between. The last two were the junior and senior undersecretaries. Around the edge of the room were large metal filing cabinets and shelves, all filled with sheets of parchment. Against one wall was a flight of stairs, which led up to the Minister's office. Crouch's office was raised ten feet above the rest of the room, and one wall was made completely of glass, allowing him to look down on his secretaries. Albus crossed the room to the stairs and climbed them, stopping just outside the glass door to the room. He could see Crouch sitting behind his desk. On the desk was what looked like an upturned frying pan, with a series of buttons on the handle. From the device, a small fire no more than a foot high and half wide was burning. Atop the flames was a floating head, with which Crouch was deep in conversation. Albus did not recognise the head.

He raised a hand and knocked lightly on the glass, given off a much higher click rather then a deep knock. Crouch glanced up and beckoned Albus inside. The Headmaster opened the soundproof door and entered the office. The carpet was a pale cream colour and the walls white, adorned with paintings. On the back wall was a black bookcase that covered the entire length except for above three feet on the left edge, where Albus could see a small fridge with a tray full of whiskey tumblers on top. Along the left wall there was a small table with a potted plant on it and along the right wall was a pair of leather sofas on either side of a glass coffee table. There were paintings on the walls. The last wall was made of a single sheet of glass, with a door embedded into it, also made of glass.

Albus waited calmly while Crouch ended the call.

"I don't care is he has to go to Timbuktu to get it," Crouch told the head. Charming as always, noted Albus.

"Very well, father," said the head. "I will have them assembled by dawn tomorrow."

"Midnight," interrupted Crouch, his voice needlessly harsh even to his own son. "The order specifies midnight." With that he swished his wand and the head vanished along with the flame. "Albus," said Crouch, rising from his chair. "Please, take a seat. Would you like anything to drink?"

"Whatever you are having," replied Albus, taking a seat on one of the dark leather sofas and removing his hat. Crouch went to the fridge and poured two glasses of what Albus was more or less sure was whiskey, though he couldn't tell the brand. Crouch closed the fridge and walked over to Dumbledore placing two glasses on the coffee table before sitting opposite him. He leaned back and crossed his legs.

"Have you seen the Muggle Papers?" began Crouch sipping his whiskey.

As a matter of fact, Albus had. He knew the Irish were on the war-path again, but he didn't see how this affected them. It was nothing to do with Tom. Despite the IRA having denied the attack, the criminals had been Irish. Anyhow, the report had said that Muggle weapons had been used, not wands. Tom would not lower himself. Ah, but he had used a nuclear bomb. What was he up to? No, this was not Tom's work. It was too clumsy and wasn't big enough. Tom was trying to start a war with the Muggles, not set them against themselves…or was he? Perhaps, he was planning to weaken the Muggles first? Having said that, it didn't seem like Tom or his Death Eaters. Whoever had done it was a professional, but there were zero casualties, no injuries and no Dark Mark. Tom liked big bold statements. This was someone else entirely.

"I've seen it," said Albus, taking a sip of the offered whiskey. He so rarely drank anything alcoholic that it burned the back of his throat. Not showing his discomfort, Albus continued. "But I see no cause for alarm. Their pithy little Irish war games will always be with us. Let MI5 deal with them, not us."

"Albus, there is a lot more to this than meets the eye," said Crouch, sipping his whiskey. "We've been caught with our trousers down, Albus. Or rather the Muggles have and we're the ones who have to wipe their arse." Albus raised an eyebrow. He did not get the metaphor, nor approve of its use. Crouch leaned forward in his chair until his head was only a foot from Albus'. "What I am about to tell you cannot leave the room, agreed?"

Albus' ears picked up at that. Something secret and juicy was coming his way. Maybe this was the secret Operation Black Watch. This should be good. "Agreed," he said, masking his eagerness spectacularly.

"This was not any normal facility," said Crouch. Albus raised an eyebrow. It certainly wasn't if it ruffled his feathers this badly. "This base was being used to house a project designed to create a weapon which would enable the Muggles to fight You-Know-Who." Crouch had broken into a cold sweat, and was rubbing his hands nervously together. The high and mighty Minister was very on edge.

"Go on," said Albus, trying to appear calm.

"It was called Artic Thunder," said Crouch.

"Why?"

"No idea, old boy," said Crouch. "I guess they thought it sounded mysterious and powerful. On the other hand it would send us back to the Ice Age. It was supposed to be a stand-by weapon in case our government ever fell to You-Know-Who. It's a device that stops all magic in a five mile radius, which will last for at least an hour." Albus' blood ran cold. If that kind of thing existed, it could potentially disable the Magical world. And that facility was attacked. It was too much of a co-incidence. Sweet Merlin, had it fallen into enemy hands?

"It's a Muggle first strike weapon?" asked Albus, his outer calm remaining intact. Inside his mind was working at Mach Three.

"We found out about it nearly eight months ago," continued Crouch. "That's myself and Rufus Scrimgoeur. We know that it was designed for if You-Know-Who ever took over and it came to war, but would not be used against us, even if it had the potential to be. We knew about it and what it could potentially do, but we could not act. Why should we deny them a weapon that could harm us when we have hundreds of spells that could destroy them? For that reason I could not stop the project. Disabling it would be seen as an act of war. Relations with Downing Street were fragile at best."

"Could you not have Obliviated them?" asked Albus.

"Too many people were involved," said Crouch. "If we missed one person who knew or a written record of it, our attempts to wipe memories would also be seen as an act of war. I couldn't take the risk, so I went down the only route still available. I offered him protection. I Obliviated everyone who knew about the project from the Ministry, except myself and Rufus. I had the Aurors erect wards around the facility in Mary Tavy in Devon where it was being held. On top of that, the Colonel in charge was placed under the protection of MI6. He lived in one of their safe-houses, an estate near Leicester. I had wards placed over that as well. If any spells were used, it would set off the alarms and the Aurors would be there in an instant. I figured that as long as they didn't know what they were guarding and that they were there protecting it, Voldemort would never find out what it was. It was a show of faith, and for five months it worked."

"What went wrong?"

"We didn't count on one thing," said Crouch. "Harry Potter. In August this year, Harry Potter approached a member of Six – as in MI6. From them he learned the name of the man in charge and his location. The Six agent's body was found floating in the Thames the following morning. Two days later, Potter entered the house of the Project's commanding officer, using bows and arrows to get through my wards and the Muggle guards. He killed the family of Colonel Alexander Fortescue, the Army colonel in charge of the project. Before he died, the Colonel must have given up the location of the facility, because the following week the facility in Devon where it was kept was attacked. That was the mission that Potter was captured on."

"Harry is a changed person," said Dumbledore, predicting where this was heading.

"I know," said Crouch. "I can't say why they didn't take the device then. Maybe their information was wrong, but nothing was taken when the facility was attacked. They just broke in and then left. What he was looking for, I cannot say. Anyhow, that put Whitehall and Downing Street in a right flap. They blamed us, naturally, because they didn't want to accept the blame, even though it was clear that their men gave up the information. For security purposes, they moved the device to a new location, but refused my offer of protection. As such, I lost track of the device, though I never stopped looking - quietly, that is. I never got close to the damn thing. That is until last night. I got a call from the Prime Minister on that portrait in his office. He said that the facility in which it was now housed was attacked last night. Worse, he said that the wreckages of two devices were found in the facility, completely destroyed, but a third was missing. Albus, there is a device out there than can cripple us and we have no idea who has it or what for."

Albus took a moment to assimilate the information. He could feel a headache coming on. The Ministry protected a device designed to incapacitate them? He could understand the reason for it, but it was so hard to believe. He, like so many, had believed the Muggles to be more or les helpless when they had in fact been preparing for war for months. It was such a shock to the system. What was worse was that one of them had gone walkies. It wasn't Death Eaters who had taken it and Albus didn't know if that was a good or bad thing? He put down his glass and undid the top button of his robes. It was really getting quite hot in here. Crouch may like it warm, but it was too warm for Albus' taste. Maybe he was just sweating from this new information. Chills ran down his spine, followed by a cold sweat. He took another sip of the chilled drink to cool himself a bit.

"This is disturbing news," said Albus. "First we need to know exactly what this device can do. We need to know who took it and why, and how they even found out about it. We need to keep it out of the Prophet. This atmosphere of confusion is just what Tom needs to gain followers."

"We both know he is a very intelligent operator," said Crouch, undoing his top button. If he was so hot, why not just turn the heating down? Idiot. "We just need to decide what must be done." Albus knew this wasn't strictly true. While it was good of Crouch to fill him in on this, he didn't trust him. He didn't know what Black Watch was, and Crouch seemed to be on the verge of losing it. He was going to be prone to irrational actions.

"You've already made a decision," said Dumbledore, reading between the lines. "You called me here, to run the idea past me."

"As shrewd as ever, Albus," said Crouch, smiling to himself. "Alright. This is what I had in mind."

"Had in mind, or have already started?" asked Dumbledore. Patience was not one of the man's virtues.

"Preparation has begun," said Crouch with a smile. "But no one makes a move without my go-ahead. The way I see it, the gloves are off. I have no military experience, but I can see what is going on here. First he blinds us, then he builds an army. Next he takes out our strongest defences, before going on to our fortress, so to speak. He has recruited more and more spies and has an army to rival the Aurors. He takes out the our strongest defence, the Auror Division, then takes advantage of having blinded us, by grabbing Artic Thunder and making it look the IRA. Now he is ready to come to our fortress. The fortress is either here of Hogwarts. But first, he will need to take out the last remaining defences. The way I see it, he has three remaining enemies. Myself, what's left of the Aurors, the Order of the Phoenix…"

Albus was unable to keep the surprise from his face; his eyebrows flew up into his hairline and his blood ran cold. How…?

"Come now, Albus, did you think I didn't know?" said Crouch looking smug. Albus managed to keep his expression neutral. "How else did Potter get involved with the Nuclear threat? You know everything before I tell you - it was so obvious. But anyway, that's besides the point. Your little Order will be on his list of enemies, and he might even see Harry Potter as a possible threat. You-Know-Who will seek to remove us from power and replace us with his own. He already has standing on the Wizengamot, we can be sure and I would not be surprised if the Aurors and Order were penetrated. Something has to be done." So Crouch knew about the Order. Did that mean Tom knew too? Albus' headache was getting worse. He shook his head trying to put it aside. He shook his robes, trying to get a little ventilation inside. It was so hot!

"And what do you suggest?" Albus asked, casting a quick cooling charm on his clothes.

"The gloves are coming off," said Crouch, his face set and his eyes determined. Even his fists were clenched. "I am proposing the formation of a special group of Aurors, called the Black Watch." Albus froze at the word. This was his big secret. "Twenty men I can trust," continued Crouch. "They would essentially be above the law, reporting only to myself. They would be authorised to use any force necessary to wrinkle out the spies." That was it? A vigilante force? An Internal Affairs department of the Aurors already existed. Why did they need this? And then there was the danger of this Black Watch being corrupt and potentially giving Voldemort free reign to arrest any member of the Ministry. If the Order were compromised, they could wipe out the Order by legal means.

"I have two concerns, Minister," said Albus. "Firstly, giving this team carte blanche is only going to create panic. If Voldemort gets wind of it, he will reply in force and it could incite a full-blown battle. Secondly, if this team was penetrated, and Voldemort gained control, he could have loyal workers executed, and his own men placed in positions of power. Nothing could stop him."

"It's a bit risky," said Crouch. He yawned into the back of his hand before continuing. "But we are at war. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and I have complete confidence on the leader of this team. He is assembling them as we speak, checking everyone with Veritaserum."

"Who would be leading this team, anyway?" asked Albus.

"Someone I trust," said Crouch, matter-of-factly.

"Who?" repeated Albus.

"My son."

Albus' blood ran cold. He remembered his conversation with Harry. Barty Crouch junior was a Death Eater in his world; he had apparently tortured Frank and Alice to insanity with the Lestranges. They had yet to confirm that he was one here, but there were so many leaks in the Ministry. Crouch wouldn't have checked him with Veritaserum as it was his own son. Merlin, if Crouch Junior selected these men, the Black Watch would be not only corrupt, but a team of Death Eaters with carte blanche over the Ministry.

"Your son?" Albus echoed, suppressing a yawn in his throat.

"Y…Yes," said Crouch, swaying where he was sitting. He eyes appeared heavy. "He is my…fam…illy." Crouch suddenly collapsed onto the sofa. Albus could feel his own eyes becoming heavy. What was going on?...The drink! They had been drugged! He instantly threw his drink down, and tried to stand. He should have seen it earlier! He was kicking himself for not having seen it. He was feeling tired but he had thought it was just because of his lack of sleep. He felt hot, but even Crouch was uncomfortable so it couldn't have been him who set the heating up. How had he missed the signs? He had been so concerned with Artic Thunder and the Black Watch that his guard had dropped. Someone had slipped something into the drink. Was it Crouch? No, he had poured it, but someone must have prepared the bottle.

Albus, staggered wearily over to the desk. He knew he had no chance of stopping the potion. He was certain it was one of two potions, but he didn't know which. Each worked in five minutes, each caused perspiring, headaches and dizziness and each had no antidote that worked after sixty seconds of exposure. He would pass out soon, and nothing could stop that short of Phoenix tears. He staggered to the desk, needing it to support his weight. Trying to shake the weariness from his face, he swished his wand at the Firecaller causing it to burst into flame. His legs were feeling numb and his head was spinning. He fought to keep his eyes open.

"Kingsley Sha…" he began, but before his finished the name, his legs gave way. He collapsed onto the floor, knocking the chair over in the process. He landed on back, staring straight up at the ceiling. His breathing was shallow, but still he fought to keep his eyes open. He had to reach the Firecaller!

Come on, Albus, one last effort, he encouraged himself.

Just then, the door opened with a small creak. From underneath the desk, Albus could see two figures wearing robes. He could not tell if they were male of female, as the cloaks obscured their footwear. Their footsteps were soundless on the carpet of the office. One of them moved to Albus' left, towards where Crouch, lay, while the other came towards him. Albus' ears were ringing and his eyes were heavy. The footsteps seemed to vibrate in his ears. He struggled to cry out for help, but he couldn't get the words out. He gasped for breath as the potion attacked the final centres of consciousness in his mind.

The figure rounded the edge of the desk and came into full view. Albus found himself staring up into the unforgiving red eyes of his former pupil. Albus' eyes grew wide as he stared up at his former apprentice, who stood staring coldly down at him, a wicked sneer appeared over his lips, and his eyes flashed with malice.

"You father, Crouch?" Voldemort asked, without taking his eyes of Albus.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" roared a voice. The sound of rushing death and a flash of green light invaded Albus' groggy senses. Despite his throbbing head and heavy eyes, Albus knew that the Minister of Magic was no longer breathing.

"He's out for the count, Master," said a voice. A second later, the sneering face of Barty Crouch Junior emerged around the side of the desk, also glaring down at Albus.

"Good," said Voldemort, allowing himself a smile, as Albus lost consciousness. "Now, we can begin."

---

Auror's Notes

There you go guys. I hope the truth has set you free.

Chapter 13 is already online at my Yahoo!Group. The group is called Stranger Trilogy (with an underscore). Join and you get to read the chapter far in advance of If you have trouble finding it, search for 'A Stranger in an Unholy Land' in Yahoo. You will find it. Chapter 14 shouldn't take as long as thirteen, which is 47000 words, so it should be up on the group soon, which means FanFiction Dot Net should get chapter 13 soon.

There are clues to this scattered through most of the chapters. How many did you get? On the whole I am fairly chuffed with this chapter. You may feel that Voldemort was somewhat out of character there, but that was the entire point. He is there for a purpose, and now we have discovered partially what it was. His whole interview with Harry was an act.

Now, with regards to the Devil's Cauldron, a theme I introduced in chapter three, I'm sure you can detect references to HBP. I was always planning to do something similar to this, hence Voldemort's musings in chapter seven about being marked equal, meaning the ceremony. I had originally planned to write about Voldemort giving Harry a piece of his soul, but I had come up with another name for the process, but now that Jo Rowling has provided me with one, I simply changed the name of the process, but the effect is the same.

I mentioned in a post a few weeks back oin my Yahoo!Group that my descriptions are sometimes true and some aren't. Cambridge is made up, so I don't know where the Physics Block or the bar. I am just improvising. Princetown on the other hand is a real place, with a real TV mast and real hut. Everything about that is real, except for the MOD having a secret bunker below that. That isn't real (to the best of my knowledge). Most of the locations in Devon are accurate, because I live in the area, so everything from Mary Tavy to Two Bridges, from Princetown to Tavistock is real. The Devil's Cauldron is a real place that can be visited. If you are ever in Devon and wish to take the faithful family hound for a walk, head to Lydford Gorge between Tavistock and Launceston. The Devil's Cauldron is a naturally formed (and rather creepy) whirlpool as described in the fic. As the name suggests it was a meeting place for the occult for many centuries. I think it is shut off to the public for parts of the winter for being too treacherous.

Until the Next Time,

Jono