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

15. Who Dares Wins Pt1

Voldemort has all but won. He has complete control of the Ministry, Black Watch and Wizengamot. Soon, Voldemort will be inaugurated as High Chancellor of Great Britain and war with the Muggles in imminent. The four surviving members of the Order of the Phoenix along with the newly created DA are all that stands between him and complete control. It has all come down to this: one battle to win a war. Hopelessly outnumbered and outlawed our heroes stage one last attempt to restore freedom to the country.

Chapter XV

Who Dares Wins Pt. 1

"I see a whole army of my countrymen,
Here in defiance of tyranny.
You have come to fight as free men,
And free men you are.
What will you do with that freedom? Will you fight?
Fight and you may die, run and you'll live.
At least a while.
But dying in your beds, many years from now,
Would you be willing to trade all the days from this day to that,
For one chance, just one chance,
To come back here and tell our enemies,
That they may take our lives,
But they'll never take our freedom?"

William Wallace (Mel Gibson) Braveheart

There was utter silence in the Great Hall. The news washed over them like a tsunami, causing their stomachs to clench and hearts to miss a beat. Everyone sat speechless, jaws limp and eyes wide. Voldemort; He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Minister of Magic? It wasn't possible! They can never get away with this, thought Ginny desperately. It just couldn't be true! The stony select was reflected over five hundred miles away in London, as the auditorium sat in stony silence, staring at the solemn yet excited Minister of Magic. No one could think of anything to say, the shock was too much. Ginny's heart sank as she watched the scene unfold. Rookwood seemed hardly able to curb his excitement as he watched his masters make their final play for control of the country.

"They can't do this, can they?" whispered someone close to Ginny. "If people protest..."

"A lot of good it did us last time," snapped Ginny, suddenly annoyed at the speaker's naivety. "And what do you think Herman Glosteen did? Do you really believe he was a dragon smuggler? No, there is nothing we can do." She knew it was wrong to take her anger out on a second year, but she didn't care. Her thoughts were miles away; her hopes pinned on one boy destined to bring about the end of the war, who at present was in hiding in Devon. She knew she would have to convey this broadcast to Harry as soon as it was over; she just hoped she wasn't arrested before she could. Voldemort now had complete control; there was nothing he could not do. Anyone who protested would suffer the same fate as Mr Glosteen had done - or worse. She knew more people would turn up having accidentally cut their heads off while brushing their teeth and other such excuses. So this was how liberty was to die…but it wasn't dead yet. She knew that as long as Harry Potter had a breath in his body, Voldemort would never truly win. Ron was seated next to her, his jaw open, his fists clenched and his eyes wide; he was frozen in place, and he wasn't the only one. Ginny quickly glanced over at Malfoy, who was whispering excitedly to Crabbe.

Ginny turned her attention back to the projection on the white sheet, her heart beating fast with horror, as Crouch raised his hands, beckoning for silence. Murmurings and shouts had begun to sweep around the audience, just as they had in the Great Hall, which Rookwood had silenced with an explosion from the end of his wand. Crouch was not so lucky and was ignored. When he did not get silence, he snapped his fingers at the Black Watch, who lined the back of the podium and the walls of the room. In a single synchronised movement, every one of them moved one step forward, their boots stamping onto the floor in unison, the sound ringing out like a clap of thunder. They all had their wands out and aimed at the crowd. The noise died away in an instant under the fear of the Black Watch.

"Thank you," said Crouch, though he did not look best pleased. "Now I know this may come as I big shock to you. I know that for many years now, our Lord has received some very bad publicity on account of the terrorist group who called themselves the Order of the Phoenix. I would now like to take a few moments to clear up some details. I realise what I am about to tell you will be a shock to the system, and you will need time to come to terms with this, but I am going to have to be frank. Most of what has been said in the press over the last twenty years has ranged from being a half-truth to a complete lie.

"The Order of the Phoenix does exist, despite many attempts to keep it secret. It was run out of Hogwarts school by Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, who was arrested at the end of last month for murdering the Minister of Magic, my father." Crouch bowed his head in a gesture that was supposed to show he was saddened.

"Crocodile tears," muttered Ginny, clenching her fists. One of the Aurors in the hall near her table turned at the sound of her voice and shot her a silencing glare through his veil; his eyes were enough to convey the message. Ginny fell silent.

"Ever since the start of this conflict," continued Crouch, "which the previous administration called a war, the Order of the Phoenix has appeared to have a very close relationship with the Minister. It saddens me to have discovered that this was no relationship. The post mortem of my father and this signed confession from Albus Dumbledore" - he held up a roll of parchment – "reveals that since his election in nineteen eighty-nine, my father was under the Imperius Curse, and being controlled by Albus Dumbledore." There was a murmur from the crowd in the Ministry as Crouch finished the sentence. Oh for Merlin's sake, thought Ginny angrily. Could they not see that this was bollocks? It looked like some of them were actually accepting it. Couldn't they see that this wasn't possible? Merlin, humanity was too stupid to live if they believed this blatant lie.

"He was not so much advising my father, as controlling him," announced Crouch. "He has confessed to this crime of high treason, as well as many more. Control of the most powerful man in the country was not enough for Albus Dumbledore. Over the years he has bribed and blackmailed himself to the rank of Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. He has inserted spies into many departments, ranging from the Aurors to the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts, even the Minister's own staff. The ultimate goal of this was to make Dumbledore the Minister of the Magic."

"But Dumbledore rejected the post, even when it was offered to him!" shouted someone in the crowd at the Ministry. Ginny knew as soon as the man had spoken that it was a mistake. Crouch was beyond control or the need for caution at this stage. The Black Watch were here for a reason. The poor man, who was old and frail to begin with, didn't stand a chance.

Crouch gave the man a piercing stare before replying. "Do you have any proof of this, anything in writing?" His voice was cold and dangerous. Ginny felt a wave of pity for the man. Crouch, on the other hand, was far from finished. "Dumbledore spent years flooding the Ministry with rumours such as that. There is no substance to that claim; it was one of many lies circulated to boost his standings. If you do not believe this to be enough proof, then consider his terrorist actions. Not one week ago, there was an attempt on my life by two former members of the Order of the Phoenix, Sirius Black and Harry Potter. I would once again like to extend my thanks to the Black Watch for their quick intervention. There was also the attack on the Hogwarts Express on the first of September this year. I have statements from Prefects Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger that there were adults present who should not have been. These include Remus Lupin, a former temporary-teacher at Hogwarts, Alastor Moody, an ex-Auror Trainer on leave at the time with no reason to be there, and several others. I have a list of eleven names here, none of whom had any reason to be there, yet who have been identified as having been present during the attack. The Order of the Phoenix were present long before any Aurors arrived on the scene. How could that have known it was going to happen? Why were they there, if not as part of the attack?

"Dumbledore has been forging alliances with all manner of Dark Creatures for years; the hiring of half-giant Rubeus Hagrid being a prime example. We have proof that he sent envoys to the giants, amongst others. Dumbledore was headmaster when I was at school, and I never thought him capable of these things. He did a good job in keeping his inner ambitions from the world. It pains me to say this, but Albus Dumbledore was a traitor, a murderer and an enemy of the country. I have a signed confession in my hand, and archival evidence backs it up.

"As to the choice of our new Minister, again I can appreciate this is not an expected move, but I will elaborate for you. Lord Voldemort - please, I know you have been taught to fear the name, but it is just that, a name - Lord Voldemort is descended from a long line of Pureblooded families, dating back to Salazar Slytherin himself. After his graduation, he was close to Dumbledore and it was then, after he had left Hogwarts, that Dumbledore tried to recruit him into the Order of the Phoenix. Our Lord rejected this offer. Dumbledore then tried to silence him permanently, but failed. As Our Lord fled, Dumbledore moved quickly to create a rumour of distrust about him. The evidence of his success is there for all to see. Most of you still fear to speak his name. Do you honestly believe his ego is so high he would not wish you to speak his name? Any form of attack was blamed on our Lord. His followers were given the name Death Eaters. It is a cliché name, but it still has the effect of causing fear wherever it is mentioned."

"THAT'S A LIE!" shouted someone in the crowd. Ginny saw Crouch's lip tighten. "DEATH EATERS MURDERED MY DAUGHTER. DUMBLEDORE PROTECTS US. YOU'RE A LIAR!" screamed the man, losing control. Shut up! Ginny silently begged him. Don't you see he'll kill you?

Crouch shot the man a glare before snapping his fingers. Two Black Watch Aurors stepped forward and grabbed the hysterical man by the shoulders.

"LET GO!" screamed the hysterical man. The Aurors ignored him, and began to drag him towards the door, his discarded cane falling to the ground with a clatter that echoed around the cavernous room.

"YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME!" screamed the man as he was dragged away by two figures in black. "I KNOW THIS ISN'T TRUE! YOU'RE A FRAUD! YOU CAN'T DO THIS!" his voice was cut off by the slamming of the door. There was a fearful murmur amongst the crowd as the echo of the doors slamming died away. Everyone seemed to be whispering to their neighbour with concerned looks on their faces.

"That was unpleasant," said Crouch, his voice lined with a threat. "Keep quiet, and there will be no need for anyone else to be…removed. Now, where was I? Let us take the bombing of the London Underground in September. We know that Dumbledore placed a call to Kingsley Shacklebolt. Shacklebolt then put together an Auror team and on Dumbledore's instructions went to the London Underground, without clearing it with the head of Magical Law Enforcement, Amelia Bones or any of his superiors. There was an explosion, and both the Order members of the team survived, while hundreds of others perished in the blast. The next day, it was put down as a Death Eater attack in the Prophet when there was no evidence for it. That was not justice, not for the hundreds who died in the explosion who were not even honoured by having the truth about their deaths made public. It is one of hundreds of examples. At each of these battles, the Order of the Phoenix has been there for no reason and there have always been casualties.

Now, I know some of you are thinking that the so-called 'Death Eaters' have been there as well. This I do not deny; Death Eaters have been present, trying to protect the innocent. Yes, it is true that our Lord had informants in the Ministry, but he was working tirelessly against the oppression of Dumbledore, not our Ministry. At the time, he did not know that Dumbledore's influence was so high up.

Going back to the attack on the Hogwarts Express by the Order of the Phoenix. The so-called Death Eaters Apparated in and engaged the Order of the Phoenix, drawing fire away from the train and giving the students a chance to escape. Those captured were rewarded for their bravery with a one-way ticket to Azkaban. Is that justice for their attempt to protect your children? I am pleased to announce that those 'Death Eaters' captured in those attacks have been unconditionally pardoned and continue to serve in the Black Watch."

Crouch was drawing to an end, and Ginny' stomach was in her chest and her ears were ringing. People actually believed what was being said? Did they not see the blatant lie? The Death Eaters were killers, murderers and by Crouch's own admission they were in the Black Watch. Did these people not see that it was wrong? Had they forgotten the fear in which they lived, or the fact that Voldemort had killed hundreds over the years? What was wrong with them? How could anyone believe that Death Eaters had been trying to help? Even in the Great Hall there were those who seemed to believe what was said. They had been on the train and had seen the destruction. Had they forgotten?

"I believe you have heard enough," announced Crouch. He reached under the podium and raised a spiral bound book above his head. "A written report will be made available in a few days detailing the extent of Dumbledore's crimes, and a copy of his signed confession cross referenced with the archive and Hogwarts records. For now, let me assure you that our justice will be firm and fast. Albus Dumbledore is to be executed before the nation, in a ceremony that will mark the inauguration of our first High Chancellor and the end of decades of war. From the ashes of war, will rise a new order. We will build a world where we no longer have to be ashamed of what we are. Purebloods can stand tall and proud, and Muggles will no longer rule our community with their technological monstrosities. We will make the Wizarding community proud and free once more, just as it used to be."

There was another murmur from the crowd. His words seemed to strike a chord in the audience. Ginny's heart fell as she heard a faint murmur of clapping, which quickly spread into shaky applause.

No, she thought desperately, don't do it. For Merlin's sake think about what you are doing!

"I know this comes as a shock," said Crouch, sounding almost sympathetic. "One day you are told that Lord Voldemort is the enemy and Dumbledore is your saviour, and now you are told that it is the other way around. I can appreciate that you will need time to adjust. Once the report is published in a few days, all will become clear. The inauguration ceremony will be held on Christmas Day, and I look forward to seeing you all there. That is all for now."

There was a click from the projector and the image faded into nothing. The white sheet descended to the floor like a cascade, and with it fell the hopes of everyone in the country. Ginny watched as several house-elves appeared with a pop to remove the sheet. The hall was silent and still as the effect of the broadcast sunk into the students who sat with jaws low.

Ginny glanced around the hall. The Slytherins were all smirking amongst themselves and whispering in exciting voices. Everyone else seemed to look sad and depressed or just plain shocked. There were those on all tables whom Malfoy had control over who were also glad to have a change of government. Ginny knew that Malfoy and others like him would again have the power. Ginny clenched her fists. She couldn't wait to see Malfoy's face when Harry killed Voldemort and the country was free again. Speaking of which, at the first opportunity, she needed to contact Harry. By Merlin, it was not over. The DA and the Order would not allow it. Ginny didn't know what was going to happen, but she knew that something would and when it did, it would shake the foundations of the earth. All this evil could be undone and would be. It was a fool's hope, but as long as hope remained, it was not over. Fear can hold you prisoner, she mused, but hope can set you free.

"As you have heard," shouted Rookwood, his voice bringing instant silence, "we are going through a time of great change, and as the Minister said, some of you will find it hard to adapt. I know this comes as a shock to you all, but please remain calm. I am counting on the Inquisitorial Squad to help maintain order in the school. Thank you, that is all, back to your lessons."

Ginny didn't want to draw attention to herself by being the first to leave, but she had to get out soon. She walked calmly out of the hall, knowing full well that she was being watched. Once outside, she darted down the first passage on her right and under the tapestry that Harry had once incinerated when the vampires had attacked. Sure enough, almost as soon as she had concealed herself Pansy Parkinson appeared around the corner, walking towards her. She stopped directly in front of the tapestry stared down the corridor, presumably looking for Ginny.

"Bollocks!" hissed the Slytherin, her face contorted with anger. With that she started to run off in pursuit of what she thought was Ginny. Once the hallway was clear, Ginny slipped out from behind the tapestry and slipped into the cloak cupboard in the entrance hall. Using her wand she locked the door and silenced it to be safe. Satisfied she was alone, she pulled out her frog card.

"Harry Potter!"

XXXXXXXXXX

"Jesus Christ," said Harry as Ginny finished relaying the broadcast to him. Voldemort was now High Chancellor? Dumbledore was to be executed? Harry's head was spinning. It had all happened so fast. Trying to snatch the Minister must have sped it all up. Voldemort was completely in control now. There was only one path left open to him: Voldemort had to die and die publicly, where everyone could see him. But Harry alone couldn't do it. Even with Voldemort dead, his Black Watch and the Death Eaters would kill Harry. He needed more support. Whatever they were planning to do, they had to do it fast.

"When's the ceremony?" he asked, his brain working on a plan.

"Christmas Day," replied Ginny.

"That gives us five days," said Harry thoughtfully. It was so little time to plan something this extensive. They would need all the help they could get. "How strong is the DA?"

"There are eleven of us," said Ginny. "We got two more, but we can fight, Harry." Harry's heart sank. Eleven was nowhere near enough. If he included Hermione, who was at home, but could help, that made twelve. Two teams of six, plus himself, Sirius, Rachel and Frank made two teams of eight. But they had three objectives, not two. That meant three teams of five and Harry. So few, and the Black Watch were so vast.

"There are too few," said Harry, shaking his head. "We will need you, but we need a plan first. For now, don't do anything. Keep your heads low and keep training. Contact me if anything else happens, but do not get caught." They needed to sit tight while Harry got a plan together and cashed in his cheque from the Prime Minister.

"Why don't we come and join you? It's like a prison here," suggested Ginny. She was clearly desperate to help.

"No," said Harry. He needed her in place and to be safe. That, and it was going to be hard enough to make the place sterile after himself and Sirius. If they all came here, it would be a forensic nightmare. "If you go, they will know something is up. They are watching you without a doubt and the Ministry will be on high alert if you disappear. Stay there until I contact you. For now, I need to speak to Sirius."

"How is he?" asked Ginny.

"Better," said Harry. "Pomfrey fixed him up a bit. His arm is still a bit dodgy, but he's awake. Ginny, I need you to go back to your lessons. Be careful. Now that he's in complete control, it's more dangerous than ever. Keep low and wait. Did you get Hermione's package?"

"Yeah, they're great," said Ginny, referring to the coins. Harry nodded. "Good luck."

With that, Harry broke the connection.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered again.

"What's happened?" asked Rachel, the only other person in the room. He quickly relayed the message to her. Her face remained neutral, but her eyes showed her shock. She sat still for a moment before a thoughtful expression crossed her face. "So what now?"

"Now we stop that ceremony," said Harry. "One way or another."

"You do realise that's what he wants you to do?" she asked. As a matter of fact, he did know it was a trap, it could only be. This was designed to lure Harry out into the open and trap him. "He wants you to raise your head so he can take you out. He's going to be waiting for you with every Auror he has."

"No," said Harry. She didn't know Riddle as well as Harry did. "I've been too much of a pain in the arse. He'll want to kill him himself. He wants me alongside Dumbledore to be executed in front of the nation. He will wait for me alone."

"Good for us," noted Rachel. "But it still leaves you the problem of killing him."

"Exactly," said Harry. "The way I see it, we have three objectives. First is Hogwarts. There are ten Aurors stationed there at any one time, along with Rookwood. They need to be removed so that Hogwarts is A) safe, and B), can be used as a stronghold. Secondly there is Dumbledore. He himself is to be executed at the ceremony, but the rest of the Order are with him, if Macnair told you the truth."

"Should have done," said Rachel. "I nearly OD'd him on Veritaserum."

"So we need to get the Order out of there, if only to make up numbers," said Harry.

"They probably won't be in a fit state to fight," said Rachel. "Over a month in captivity can do that." In truth, Harry hadn't considered that. It was harsh to expect them to fight, but he had no choice. They needed more men.

"We'll have to hope some can," said Harry. "Our final objective is Voldemort." He was mildly impressed she didn't cringe at the name. "I need to get in there and take him out while everyone else contains the Black Watch and watches my back."

"We're hopelessly outnumbered," said Rachel. "It'll be a slaughter."

"Ah, but I have an ace up my sleeve," said Harry. He had the beginnings of a plan, but he needed to bring some people back here first - and that could prove a problem. "Trust me, Miss Shepherd, I have a surprise that will greatly enhance our standing and reduce the Black Watch to nothing. Firstly though, I have to call in a promise from a very important man. Before I go, do you know how to get a group of people from one place to another without using Portkeys?"

She paused for a second, thinking. "The Floo network is disconnected," she said thoughtfully. "You might be able to use a window," she suggested. " They're illegal, but they should work, as long as they are not going through wards. They are hard to do, but I reckon I could do it. Where to and from?"

"To here," said Harry. "I'm not sure where from yet."

"When do you need it?" she asked.

"In about an hour, maybe two," he said. It shouldn't take too long, but convincing them to come just might.

"I'll head into town," said Rachel. "I need some glass to work with."

"Tavistock is too small," said Harry. "Plymouth will have a place that will do it. Be careful though, and watch your back." She nodded before rising to leave, draining her tea as she did so. She dropped the cup in the sink and then headed outside to Disapparate. Harry also rose from his seat, as he had a meeting to attend.

It was time to contact the Prime Minister again.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Beth," said the Prime Minister into the intercom on his desk. "Can you come in here for a moment, please?" He released the button and stared at the door. A few seconds later, a young lady wearing a sharp pinstriped suit and glasses entered the room. She carried a notepad with a pen ready.

"Yes, Prime Minister," said the woman.

"Have we received any messages from Colonel Evans at Hereford?" asked the Prime Minister. He had ordered that Evans contact him instantly if he heard from Pandora, but he had heard nothing. He knew that this Harry Potter was planning to move against the Ministry of Magic, which he, and he alone, claimed was overrun by terrorists, but nothing seemed to have happened. The silence was unnerving, and since the Prime Minister didn't trust the boy, no news was definitely bad news where he was concerned.

"No, sir," said Beth. "Nothing has come in from Hereford since the confirmation of Red Team being on high alert." Still nothing. What was keeping the boy? The Prime Minister had briefed Cobra and they were drawing up a potential plan of attack now. The armed forces were on high alert and the Royal Marine Commandos had moved into local barracks near all major cities, ready to move in for peacekeeping. The unit from Special Boat Service based at Poole had moved into a hotel in London Docklands. From there it was ten minutes upstream on one of their speedboats and two more minutes on foot to get to the Ministry of Magic.

The SBS were the Royal Marines equivalent to the SAS; they were Special Forces who had gone through the same training as the SAS as well as additional aquatic training, but were owned and run by the Navy, not the Army. The SAS were famous for the Iranian Embassy siege in 1980, but the SBS have remained clouded in secrecy, getting none of the media attention their sister service has. As such they were the Prime Minister's first choice for deniable operations, and have been in the first wave of every conflict in which the United Kingdom have been involved. If this all went pear-shaped, the SBS would form the first wave of the assault on the Ministry of Magic. They were prepped and ready to go. Within fifteen minutes of the phone call, the SBS would enter the Ministry with orders to secure it, one way or another. If the SAS were ordered in as the first strike, Potter might hear of it through rumours at Hereford. By using the SBS, the Prime Minister made absolutely certain that it would be a surprise attack. A thin smile formed on his face as he remembered how he had outwitted the boy.

"Okay, thanks, Beth." The girl nodded and turned on her heel, closing the door behind her.

The Prime Minister still did not know what to make of this mess. He had set one of his staff the task of communicating with the Magical community and to try to find out what was going on. It hadn't been difficult, apparently. Michelle, the woman he had sent to make contact, had simply spent the day in central London with her eyes open. Anyone she saw dressed in robes, or mysterious attire, she had approached and asked if the name Harry Potter meant anything to them. Of course, only a witch or wizard would know who he was. From there it was a simple matter of asking a few questions about Crouch, his deceased father, Harry Potter, Albus Dumbledore and the Ministry of Magic. Of those asked, many seemed very scared to speak out, especially to a stranger. From what Michelle had gathered, the Ministry had recently gone through a major overhaul. Most of the Department Heads had been changed within hours of the new Minister taking over and Dumbledore being arrested.

While the Prime Minister could not understand the significance of a simple Headmaster, he could see that whoever Albus Dumbledore was, he commanded a lot of respect, and many people refused to believe that he had killed Crouch Senior. As for Harry Potter, the name was synonymous with fear and terror. Most had read in a newspaper called the Daily Prophet that he had defected to the 'Light' side, but many still did not trust him. They had all heard about a 'protest' organised by Potter, during which Magical Police had fired upon unarmed school children. It was a great big mess. On one hand, Crouch's police had fired on school children, and he had certainly not informed the Prime Minister that the Ministry had been changed so drastically, or discussed the introduction of a new police force for wizards. Then on the other hand, Harry Potter was still feared in the community, and what was he doing organising civil unrest with school children on the front line? Both characters had dark pasts and secrets, but whom to trust?

"Prime Minister," said a voice softly.

The Prime Minister's head shot up and he found himself once again looking at the face of Harry Potter. His entire body tensed at the sight of the former terrorist, who had somehow penetrated the room undetected yet again. He wore all black, topped with a travelling cloak.

"Sorry if I startled you," said Potter, approaching the desk and sliding into a chair. "Prime Minister, time is short so I'll get straight to it. Here is a copy of today's Daily Prophet." The boy reached into his cloak, pulled out a folded newspaper and dropped it on the Prime Minister's desk.

Straightening his tie and trying to regain his composure, the Prime Minister reached for the paper and unfolded it, watched all the time by the motionless Potter. On the front page of the newspaper was a huge headline covering the top half of the page.

LORD VOLDEMORT TO BECOME

HIGH CHANCELLOR OF ALL MAGICAL BRITAIN

The Prime Minister's blood ran cold as he took in the headline. He broke into a cold sweat as his eyes scanned frantically over the text. With every word he felt his stomach grow tighter and his head spinning faster.

"To cut a long story short," said Potter gently, leaning forward in his seat, "Crouch is a Death Eater. He has removed any form of opposition, leaving nothing to challenge this change of authority. The Black Watch have arrested the last of the Order of the Phoenix, with the exception of four of us. All Muggleborns have been sent home and we have found out that they are planning genocide by making all half-blooded witches sterile. He is in complete control of the country and is trying to expel anything even remotely Muggle. Turn the page, look at the bottom corner."

The Prime Minister, his hands shaking, turned the page and his eyes fell on the bottom of the page.

Make a Stand
Make a Difference
Make Britain Pure

•

COMMANDOS

Be the Best

•

G25 000 per year
Apply at Commandos Office
Ministry of Magic

"He is recruiting an army," said Potter. "Make Britain pure. Would you like to guess who the enemy are?"

"You mean he is coming for us?" asked the Prime Minister, his voice trembling. Genocide! They would all be killed! Christ, they were monsters! He needed to send in the SBS as soon as possible!

"In a word, yes," said Potter. "When he has an army big enough - and he is forcing all the half-bloods to fight - he will start a war on your people. You haven't heard from Crouch recently, have you?" How did he know? Crouch had been ignoring the Prime Minister's attempts to contact him. Potter was right: something was going on, and his gut told him it was Crouch.

"No," confessed the Prime Minister.

"Crouch won't answer you now," said Potter. "It's too late. Plans are in motion." What did he mean by that? Was Voldemort coming now?

"I need to contact the Army," said the Prime Minister, reaching for the phone. He was thinking more of the SBS, but he had to put the whole country on alert and move the Army onto the streets. "I have to put them all on alert."

"Prime Minister," said Potter, leaning forward and grabbing the Prime Minister's wrist as he reached for the phone. The Prime Minister recoiled under the threat of violence as Potter grabbed him. A chill went down his spine. Would Potter kill him if he refused? "If you do that, you will only cause the deaths of hundreds, maybe thousands."

"He's building an army, I can't wait," said the Prime Minister. Surely Potter could see that. "Every second I delay, he gets stronger."

"Prime Minister," said Potter. "Those are my people you will kill, and our retaliation will be swift and merciless. Remember that these people are not out to conquer, but to eradicate. It's genocide, the systematic extermination of all non-magical life on this island. Men, women, children, they will be cut down where they stand. Think about what you are doing. You will be launching an unprovoked attack on superior forces against, which your men have no experience of fighting. You'll start a massacre." The words hung in the air. The Prime Minister knew he couldn't start a slaughter, or move against civilians, but he couldn't sit and do nothing! What was Potter proposing?

"What would you have me do?" he asked.

"What if I could stop it?" asked Potter. The Prime Minister would love him to stop it, but he failed to see how it could be done. "What if I could stop this war, place a fair and just Minister back in the office and destroy this army and this administration?" It seemed too good to be true, and the Prime Minister suspected that it was.

"I would ask how," he said cautiously. He didn't want to anger Potter.

"You don't need to know," said Potter, irritating the Prime Minister. This affected him as much as it did Potter. "All I need is a team of SAS soldiers, at least twenty strong, and some time."

"How do I know you don't want to displace Crouch and sit on the throne yourself?" the Prime Minister asked. He was impressed by his own bravery, challenging a killer. Potter responded by smiling at him, though the Prime Minster did not see the joke.

"Do I look like a leader to you?" asked Potter, chuckling lightly. "I just want to end this war and go home; I just want my family back." He seemed genuine. For the first time, the Prime Minister felt himself warming to the boy; but this was a serious situation, and they needed to be serious.

"And what if you fail?" he asked. Potter bowed his head and sighed.

"If you haven't heard back from me, Dumbledore, or someone at Hogwarts by Boxing Day," said Potter, "Hit our world with everything you've got. But give me a few days to try and stop it. What have you got to lose?"

"Time and twenty Special Forces soldiers for a start," said the Prime Minister.

"Your men will be in low risk positions," said Potter, "And you don't need to lose time; put the army and marines on high alert, but be ready to stand them down." Little did Potter know that that had already been done and more. He didn't know about the Special Forces ready to go in at fifteen minute's notice.

"What shall I say to the press?" asked the Prime Minister, not correcting Harry.

"Make it up," said Potter, casually, openly not caring about the politics of the situation. "Or if you want, I'll deliver a tape to a newspaper threatening to blow up a British Army Base. That should get the country's attention, and justify you raising the alert status."

"Very well," said the Prime Minister. "You have until Boxing Day; come midnight on Boxing Day I will mobilise the army, beginning with an air strike on the Ministry of Magic." Potter raised an eyebrow at the threat. "If you were wondering how I know where it is," said the Prime Minister, feeling powerful for the first time in Potter's presence, "It may be invisible from us Muggles as you call us, with your repelling spells, but not from our satellites and computers. You have four days. There is no need to threaten a base. I will raise the alert status."

"Very well," said Potter, rising to leave. "But remember, Hogwarts is a school. There are rules of war."

"Will Voldemort stick to them?" countered the Prime Minister.

"Not in a million years," admitted Potter. "But you're better than he is. Don't attack schools."

"So be it," said the Prime Minister, not answering Potters instruction. "I'll phone Hereford, telling them to be on alert. You should arrive at the main gate in one hour. Your codename is Pandora. I will tell them to expect you. Good Luck, Potter."

Potter nodded, and then before the Prime Minister could say anything else, he disappeared in a ball of flame. Leaning back in his chair, the Prime Minister felt a cold shiver leap up his spine. He was caught in the middle of something he didn't understand. This Potter boy, and he was just that; a boy, was dangerous. He gave the Prime Minister the creeps.

Had he done the right thing, giving twenty of the finest soldiers on the planet to Potter? Would he keep his word? Would the men be safe? So many questions plagued his mind. But he knew something Potter did not, and it was this thought that gave the Prime Minister hope. He had one card left to play.

Right now, the Marines from the Special Boat Service were prepared to go at a moment's notice. If there was even the smallest sign that Potter had double crossed him, the SBS would move in. If Potter put so much as a toe out of line, the Marines would be waiting for him.

XXXXXXXXXX

Hereford was a town that was famous for the SAS and there was no denying that it showed. Just walking down the High Street, Harry could hear men telling women that they were in the Special Air Service. Of those he had seen, Harry didn't believe a single one of them. He kept close to the shop entrances as he walked swiftly down the crowded High Street, making it easier to dive into a shop should he see any Black Watch Aurors or hear anyone Apparate near him. There was a cold winter breeze on the air, which was channelled mercilessly by the buildings, battering into Harry's face as he walked. He was dressed all in black, inclusive of gloves and had chosen despite being our in public to wear a travelling cloak, again of black. He pulled it tight around himself in a vain attempt to block out the cold.

As he rounded the next corner the high wire fences became visible, as did the two guards in the booth at the main gate. Harry approached the gates, passing the famous 22nd Regiment SAS sign on the roadside. On any other day he might have taken the time to appreciate it, but time was of the essence here.

As he arrived at the gate, he was confronted by two soldiers carrying rifles. The alert status had been raised, so they were taking no chances. As soon as Harry came within twenty metres of them, the two soldiers raised their rifles threateningly. They didn't actually point at him, but the guards stood tall, fingers on triggers and rifles held up to their shoulders, rather than across stomachs, as they had been seconds before.

"Excuse me," said Harry politely to the one of the guards, ignoring the rifle in the guard's hands. "I'm here to speak to your commanding officer." The soldier shot him an appraising stare before rolling his eyes and shaking his head.

"Look, lad," said the man in a thick Scottish accent, which surprised Harry considering they were on the edge of Wales. He vaguely remembered hearing that there were lots of Scots in the SAS on the grounds that they were quote "hard bastards'. "This is a working Army barracks, and we don't have time for your games. Now, go home." It was Harry's turn to roll his eyes. He could see why they wouldn't believe him, but it was inconvenient - to say the least.

"I'm not playing games," said Harry politely, though he was becoming irritated. The fact that they judged him by his age when he had seen more combat than both of them put together was insulting. "Call Colonel Evans and tell him Pandora is here to speak to him."

"Pandora? That your name, is it?" said the guard, laughing slightly. "Thought it was a girl's name."

"It's a codename," said Harry, resisting the urge to add 'you berk' on the end. He was fairly sure a Pandora's box joke was on it's way. He was however, wrong.

The soldier shook his head in mock despair as Harry stared at him. "Very good," muttered the guard. "Look, you've had your fun, but seriously now, go away."

"I told you, I have an appointment wit…" he was interrupted by the Scottish guard.

"I told you, kid," said the soldier, raising his rifle just an inch in a threatening manner. "I don't have time for this."

"Twenty of your men have been made ready," said Harry icily. "Red team are ready to move out. The whole base has been on alert for the past week, and on high alert since about an hour ago. Every soldier and every marine in the country have been recalled and the defence status upgraded. No one knows what's going on, but the entire base is battle ready with no obvious enemy in sight. Your teams are practicing for urban warfare on British soil, and you've been told not to speak to anyone about this. I know because I was with the Prime Minister when this happened. Call Colonel Evans and tell him Pandora is here. If he doesn't know what I am talking about, I will leave and you'll never see me again - you have my word. If I'm right, you may have just worked your way onto the team that is about to move out."

The guard glanced at his companion who returned a blank look. "It's one phone call," said Harry more politely. What would he do if he wasn't allowed in? He would have to break into the headquarters of the world's most elite fighting force. This was another needless job to do. Why couldn't the guard just let him in and make it simple?

"Watch him!" said the Scottish soldier to his companion. The second soldier raised his rifle to point it at Harry's chest. Harry gently raised his hands in response, but made no effort to move. The Scottish soldier made his way to the guard booth and picked up the phone. Harry couldn't hear him speaking or read his lips, but he could tell he was talking to someone. After a few seconds, the man put the phone down and came back out of the booth, his eyes staring intently at Harry.

"Staff-sergeant Adams will be down to escort you to the CO, sir," said the soldier, his tone more formal, though not apologetic. His companion lowered his rifle and stood to attention. "I apologise about this, sir." Harry breathed a sigh of relief; he wouldn't be breaking in after all.

"Not at all," said Harry, resisting the urge to give him a hard time. He didn't have time to waste. "I know I'm not what you would expect me to look like, and you were doing your job, protecting the barracks. Now, I have some questions for you. Have you seen anyone dressed like I am, in robes, cloaks or stuff like that? Anyone hanging around dressed oddly, you know. out of season?"

"Not that I'm aware of, sir," said the soldier. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Voldemort wasn't watching the SAS. Harry would have expected him to, knowing that this was where the strongest resistance to his war would come from, but Harry reminded himself that the object was to suffer heavy casualties amongst his Muggleborn Commandos. Still, he would have expected Voldemort to at least pay attention. This also meant he needed to get inside before anyone possibly watching under an invisibility cloak recognised him.

"What's your name?" Harry asked the guard.

"Private Cummings," said the soldier.

"Well, private," said Harry, addressing the man by rank. "If you see anyone dressed like that, call through to the CO immediately - do not hesitate. How many men do you have on guard duty?"

"Two on the gate, four on each side of the perimeter, and each barrack has at least one man awake at all times" said Cummings. It was a little less that what he had expected. Surely this was no maximum security?

"How many in reserve?" he asked.

"None," replied the soldier, to Harry's astonishment.

"None?" he echoed in disbelief.

"With all due respect, sir," said Cummings, "This is the SAS. The men sleep with guns next to them, they're always ready to defend themselves." It was hardly an excuse. He made a note to tell the CO to double the guards. Still, it was easy to get in with an invisibility cloak, so what could someone do from the inside?

"Once inside the perimeter," said Harry, wondering if it really would have been that hard to break in here. "How many men on patrol?"

"It varies," said Cummings. "Are you expecting an attack here? By whom?" Yet Harry couldn't go around telling everyone everything.

"Listen," said Harry. "Until I have spoken to the CO, I can't confirm anything. You will know soon enough."

Harry glanced through the gates to see a man coming towards them. He wore camouflage trousers and shirt topped with a green woollen jumper, with a green belt and polished black boots, as well as the coveted sand-coloured beret bearing the insignia of the Special Air Service.

"Sir, this is Pandora," announced Cummings as the Sergeant approached.

"Is this some sort of a joke?" asked Adams, eying Harry. His accent was clearly from Yorkshire.

"No," said Harry flatly, hiding his annoyance at having to repeat himself. "I can appreciate that I am not what you were expecting, but I am Pandora and I need to speak to Colonel Evans right now." The sergeant eyed him carefully for a second before letting him in. Harry fell into step beside Adams, who marched off with military pace and conformity.

"What does a kid have to do with what's going on?" asked Adams, his tone cold. He was speaking at Harry rather than to him.

"This kid," said Harry, stressing the last word, "Just so happens to be the only one in a position to stop a civil war on British soil, so drop the attitude, sergeant." Harry paused there, not wanting to go on any further. He needed their help, and insulting them was not going to help; he would have to accept Adam's coldness for now. Part of him wished he could have brought Sirius or Rachel to help him, but he was the only one the Prime Minister liaised with.

He was led into a tall building that looked as if it had once been a manor, and now had been adapted for offices. He followed the sergeant up several flights of stairs and through corridors until he ended up outside a door on which was a plaque reading

Col. Richard Evans

OC 22nd Regiment

The sergeant knocked and then entered.

"Pandora, sir," said the sergeant, opening the door to let Harry in.

Harry found himself in a small office, which was in the corner of the building. Two walls contained massive windows offering a fantastic view of the barracks, on which over one hundred soldiers were training. The room was decorated plainly, but with many paintings on the walls. On the far side of the room was a large wooden desk, behind which sat a man with greying hair and a fat, bent nose. He wore a green woollen jumper with his rank denoted on his shoulders. He also wore the sandy beret of the SAS.

"You're Pandora?" asked the colonel, from his seat behind the desk. His hazel eyes looked Harry over from top to bottom, appraising him. Harry got the feeling that he had developed an instant dislike for Harry. Without a doubt, they were about to repeat the conversation he had had with Adams at the gate, but Harry had neither the time nor the patience for this. It could be time to go for the old shock-tactics.

"Yes," said Harry bluntly, not wishing to repeat himself for a third time. "And you're Colonel Evans, I take it." The man behind the desk nodded. He seemed to be about thirty-five to forty, with a thick moustache and slightly greying brown hair.

Evans, shot a quizzical look at Adams who shrugged.

"I see my age surprises you, too," said Harry, not bothering to hide his irritation. "But time is short, so can we please get on? I understand that I am to be assigned twenty fully armed soldiers" They could forgo the small talk. He needed to be in and out quickly.

"Have a seat," said the colonel calmly. Harry felt his frustration rise at the delay.

"Is there a problem?" asked Harry, not moving.

"Please sit down," said the colonel, gesturing to the chair in front of the desk. Harry walked into the room and slid into the chair, not taking his eyes off the colonel.

"Son," began the colonel, earning a glare from Harry. "I was told a little while ago to expect you to come within the hour and to have twenty men ready for you. I have been told nothing about what's going on, and yet I am expected to keep this base on high alert and sacrifice twenty soldiers. Now, I need to know what is going on." Oh great, thought Harry. Another stuck up officer sticking his nose in where it wasn't needed. This was need-to-know, and the Muggles didn't need to know.

"What's going on," said Harry, "Is that the Prime Minister has ordered you to give me twenty men and you are not doing it."

"Look," said the colonel, the vein in his temple throbbing. "We are being prepared for a war. The SAS are always on the front line, now I need to know who we are fighting so that I can prepare them, so I can save lives." The colonel didn't understand the time constraints on this mission - it would take too long to explain. Why couldn't he just cooperate?

"If you give me these twenty," said Harry, "I can stop this war from ever occurring; that's why I am here. This needs to be kept secret because it is a sensitive matter."

"I have clearance," protested the colonel.

"COBRA are not privy to this," said Harry, plucking a phrase from Christine's notes. "This is a deniable operation, but a necessary one."

"You can't expect me to let you lead my men to an unknown fate without knowing what is happening," said the colonel. "How can I know what equipment to issue them with?" Harry could take care of this; he didn't need the colonel.

"With what I tell you," said Harry impatiently.

"And you're a soldier?" asked the colonel, referring to his apparent lack of experience.

"Of sorts," said Harry. He stared at the colonel for a few seconds before conceding. He had promised the PM that this would usher in a new era of cooperation, where the magical community wouldn't hide away.

"Fine," said Harry, sighing deeply. "But this is for your ears only. Tell the sergeant to wait outside, and then I will tell you."

"The sergeant can stay," said the colonel defiantly. "He is cleared to whatever I am." Harry shot the man a glare, but then paused. This was a perfect opportunity to go for the shock-tactics, and to wipe the smirk off the face of the sergeant. That would get the colonel's attention.

"As you wish," said Harry, flashing a small smile. "This is what this is all about." He reached into his robes and pulled out his wand, holding it up for the colonel to see.

"A stick?" asked the colonel, looking unimpressed.

"Not exactly," said Harry, pointing it at the sergeant. Stupefy!

The colonel's eyes grew wide as a bold of red light left the wand, launching the sergeant off his feet and onto a table, where he lay unconscious.

"What the…" stammered the colonel, rising to his feet instantly as Harry turned back to face him.

Silencio!

Instantly he fell silent, grasping at his throat with his hands. Harry leapt from the seat, closing the door with his wand and locking it. He wished he knew how to do an Imperturbable charm. Turning back to the Colonel, Harry levelled his wand at the man who sat grasping at his neck. The colonel's eyes were wide with fear. Harry flicked his wand, thinking a silent spell. The colonel rose two feet from the ground, hovering in midair. His eyes were wide with fear and Harry was sure if were able, he would be screaming.

"Don't move, colonel," said Harry - a moot point, considering that he couldn't. "I don't wish to restrain you. This little demonstration has shown you what you are up against. If one "kid", as you called me, can do this to two fully trained soldiers, imagine what an army of fully-grown people like me could do. That is who you are up against and that is why I should not be telling you this. Now, be quiet, and I will release you. Rest assured, the sergeant is not dead, merely unconscious. Now, will you be reasonable?"

The colonel eyed Harry for a second before nodding. Harry lowered the soldier to the ground and removed the spell before pocketing his wand. The colonel drew himself up to his full height.

"Don't even think about going for the pistol in the drawer," said Harry, "You'd join the sergeant before your hand touched the desk." He wasn't sure that there was a pistol, but was fairly sure that the head of the SAS would keep one there. The colonel nodded and sank into his chair, keeping both hands where Harry could see them.

"How did you do that?" he stammered.

"Magic," said Harry, before realising how sarcastic that sounded. He quickly elaborated. "Literally magic. You see, colonel, at any given time, around five to seven percent of the population of the UK are wizards, capable of doing what you have just seen, and ninety nine percent of us are good. You have seen the more violent uses of magic, and there are more violent still. However, most of magic is for simple things like cleaning, and making life easier for ourselves. We can do wonderful things, colonel, and we just wish to live normal lives. An entire civilisation exists, hidden among normal people like you. Now recently, a faction of terrorists have appeared who think that purity of blood is important. If a wizard marries a normal person, the child is a half-blood, and if a wizard is born to normal parents, which does happen quite often, then these children are considered by these fundamentalists to be inferior. These fundamentalists have taken over our civilisation, and are intent on removing the impure, waging a war against normal people. Do you understand?"

"So they don't like us because we are normal," said the colonel. "You refer to ethnic cleansing?"

"Precisely," said Harry. "They plan to wipe every normal person from the face of this country. Myself, and a few other like-minded people, are all that stand in their way. We are a secret society, a vigilante group, so to speak, except without the killing. Now, since they took over, we are the outsiders, the terrorists. As you have just seen, wizards are capable of terrible things, but we are capable of being great as well. It's a minority who hate normal people, but unfortunately that minority are in power. They rule our community by force, and are planning to march against you."

"So what do you need from me?" asked the colonel. "I should be preparing my troops for war, a civil war of sorts."

"All of Her Majesty's armed forces are on high alert," began Harry. "You are preparing for a war against an enemy you cannot understand and have never encountered before. In short, an enemy each more powerful than your entire team, capable of summoning horrors you cannot imagine, who will not abide by any rules of war and will not stop until all normal people are driven from the island."

"We are the most elite fighting force in the world," said the colonel indignantly.

"Our shields cannot be breached by bullets or even bombs," said Harry. "Our attacks can rip through armour, change your guns into carrots and even control your own men's minds. We can kill with a word. No offence, colonel, but as you are, you don't stand a chance. But what if I could prevent the whole war?"

"How so?"

"Give me a team of twenty men I can trust," said Harry.

"I thought our weapons were useless," said the colonel. "And if they are, why do you need them? Will they be safe?"

"They will be a low risk role, but I need them fully armed and ready," said Harry. "Yes your weapons may not work, but you are not helpless. You will not be expected to make the first move. They expect me, and only me, to come. Your men make up numbers, and we may need their weapons. We only have one shot at this and we need all the help we can get. If I can take out those in power, we stand a chance."

"An assassination?" the colonel was quick off the mark.

"I would do it myself," said Harry. "No, this is more of a coup d'etat. We must take out the leader, along with his entourage, and do so in public for all to see. My problem is that while I may be able to take him out, his secret police are too strong in numbers. He has a small SS style entourage. We need to take them out and we don't have the numbers we need. That is where you come in. You will not be expected."

"A coup d'etat would start a war if it failed," said the colonel.

"Your Prime Minister was about to launch a first strike, and if we fail that is the only option left. How is that any better? At least this way we have a chance to stop a war," said Harry.

"And if you win, rebuild and live on, what assurances can I have that you will not attack us again in the future?"

"Once we have control back," said Harry, "Wizards born to normal families will be allowed back in, and your assistance here will not be forgotten. What we do today will forge a new bond of friendship. We are writing history today, colonel. When the dust settles, we will remember how we stood united and we will remember that only together did we manage to defeat the darkness. You, colonel, will be responsible for saving two nations." The colonel paused in thought for a few moments.

"So be it," said the colonel at last. "Red team are standing by. I will give you the temporary rank of Major, to make things formal and to have something to write on the report."

"No report," said Harry instantly. "This is a deniable operation. I was never here, in fact, I do not exist. And there is no need for a rank."

"A report must be done for COBRA eyes only," said the colonel. "Else my men can't leave the base." Harry nodded begrudgingly. "Follow me," said the colonel, rising to his feet. Harry did the same. "What about Adams?" asked the colonel as he passed.

"He will wake up in an hour or so," said Harry, staring pitilessly at the fallen soldier. "Disorientated and dizzy, but nothing a breath a fresh air won't cure. Or I could wake him now, but then I would have to admit what I did." He would do it if he had to, but it would mean that yet another person knew what was happening.

"Leave him be," said the colonel. "Come."

The colonel led him back down the stairs and out of the building to where a car was waiting. Harry climbed into the back, while the colonel rounded the car and entered through the other side. Once the doors closed the driver sped off across the barracks. Harry stared out the window as they drove.

At the end of the road, they turned left. They first encountered a set of roofs, raised only a few feet from the ground. The model houses had no walls, yet still men in black overalls and combat gear grappled all over them, carrying machine guns on their backs.

BOOM!

At the end of the row was a full-scale house, which looked genuine, except that it was covered in black scorch marks. As they drove by, there was a tremendous bang and one of the windows blew outwards, just as a soldier abseiled down the roof and swung into the window.

The sound of automatic gunfire surrounded them as they drove through the training facilities. Harry's jaw was low as he watched the creepy figures in black crawl all over these models, blowing up anything in their path.

"This shocks you?" asked the colonel, reading his face.

"It's the gunfire," said Harry. "I was raised by Mug…normal people, but as a wizard I have the stunning spell like the one I used on Adams. I can bring a man down without killing him; a machine gun can't. It's death or nothing. I always think of the Aurors as a life saving organisation whereas this seems to just kill." He was off to kill Voldemort, so why he suddenly felt so much distaste for killing was beyond him? This was necessary and it was just, and he was going to prove that to Voldemort, but he felt a shiver run down his spine at the thought of these guns being used against the Black Watch, some of whom were just there out of fear, but were good men. It seemed so wrong. How many would die in the next few days?

"Perhaps," said the colonel. "But remember, these men respond to terrorist threats. Do you remember the Iranian Embassy Siege in nineteen eighty?"

"Too young, but I have heard about it," said Harry. He remembered seeing a documentary about it, and watching the figures in black crawling all over the building.

"We took down all but one of them," said the colonel. "No chance to surrender, no mercy, in fact in one room men threw down their guns, but they were shot anyway." Surely that was murder, thought Harry, but he had the sense not to say it out loud. The colonel didn't seem sorry, in fact, he seemed almost proud.

"Cold," noted Harry.

"The hostages didn't ask to be there," said the colonel matter-of-factly. "The terrorists did. They chose to be there and accepted the consequences of failure. They're dead."

"You never gave them a chance?" asked Harry. Surely a warning should have been given – it was only fair. Then again, they had had days of warnings and had still killed a man. Voldemort had been warned, and would give no warning in return. The colonel had a point. Voldemort had chosen for this to happen and he accepts the consequence of failure. Voldemort had to die.

"They had had three days to surrender to Plod," continued the colonel, bringing Harry out of his thoughts. "That's the police, as in PC Plod. Anyway, three days of negotiation yielded nothing. Then they executed a hostage. Once they take a life, the Home Office ordered control of the siege to be handed over from Plod to 22-reg. Once we have control, no one comes out alive. It's as simple as that. They asked to be there, they end up dead, and in that way we save lives and act as a deterrent."

"You let one live," said Harry.

"He pretended to be a hostage. He managed to get out and into the view of the TV cameras," said the colonel. "An execution on national TV would make us look like monsters."

"I bet the lawyers and politicians loved that," said Harry.

"Bollocks to them," said the colonel. "None of them have the courage to stand up and fight. They like to sit on their arses, grow rich and let others risk their lives and then have the nerve to judge us when we make a mistake. We have a fraction of a second to make a decision; they have days to pick it apart, though they have no idea what it is like to be faced with such a choice. The hardest choice they have had to make is rice krispies or cornflakes for breakfast. Though to he honest, and keep this to yourself, after the siege, Thatcher and her husband came to Hereford to congratulate us. He came up to me, Mac and Tom, who had all been on the strike team. He said that we had failed. When I asked why, he replied, 'you let one of the bastards live'."

Harry smiled to himself. Laughing at death was slightly bad taste, but the colonel had a point. Voldemort had chosen to be a murderer; the country had not chosen to be slaughtered. Desperate times called for desperate measures. He did, of course, wonder what types of people he was recruiting. He hoped they didn't enjoy killing too much, or else what made them better than the Death Eaters?

They arrived at what looked like an old aircraft hanger at the far end of the complex, and the car pulled gently up outside.

"ATTENTION!" shouted a voice as Harry followed the colonel into the hanger.

"At ease," said the colonel, marching straight into the hanger and approaching a line of twenty men. "Gentlemen, sit down." Harry took in the scene around him. Four Land Rovers, packed with equipment, were parked in a horseshoe shape in the middle of the hanger. In front of those was a semi-circle of chairs on which twenty men in black overalls were sitting, staring at the colonel and eying Harry, presumably waiting to find out what the Hell was going on.

"Gents," said the colonel, once they were seated. "We finally know what is happening and I can promise you that you haven't gotten dressed up for nothing. This is…in fact I don't know his name, but for all intents and purposes he is your new CO, though he is a civilian and hold no rank. I will let him explain." The colonel stepped aside, gesturing for Harry to take centre stage. He hesitated for a second. Standing in front of the best soldiers on the planet was somewhat humbling. He shook the feeling aside, shaking away his nerves. He had a job to do, and these battle hardened men wouldn't take the leap of faith he was asking of them if he didn't act professionally.

"We don't have a lot of time," said Harry. "So I'll be blunt. As the best of the best, you have been chosen to try and stop a war that is brewing on British soil. The entire armed forces are on alert, and your job is to stop this war from ever starting. I will go into detail in a minute, but before you get any brash ideas, I must warn you that you are facing an enemy the likes of which you have never seen, armed with weapons you could not imagine. As of right now, all your training means absolutely sweet FA."

"Excuse me mister…whoever you are," said one of the soldiers, a tank-like man with a moustache and a broad Birmingham accent. "But what would someone so youthful know about our training? We can take care of ourselves you know."

"Corporal!" snapped the Colonel, stepping forward to intervene. "You will show resp…" Harry held out of hand, gesturing the colonel to stop, which he did, knowing full well what a wave of Harry's hand could do.

"And you are?" asked Harry, stepping towards the man who didn't look in the least bit intimidated. Harry resisted the urge to smirk.

"Corporal Lokey," said the man, chewing gum with his mouth wide open.

"You've fought in wars before?" asked Harry.

"Iraq, ninety-one" said the man. He was clearly older than he looked.

"Could the Iraqis do this?" asked Harry. He raised a hand and the soldier slowly lifted out of his seat. Lokey's eyes grew wide as he gently floated out of his chair. Harry spread his fingers out in a sharp motion and Lokey's limbs snapped taut, his arms out to the side as if he was being crucified. The other soldiers stepped back in surprise as Lokey's feet left the ground. He was left hovering a foot above the ground, speechless with Harry standing three feet in front of him, his hand outstretched.

"Put him down!" ordered another soldier, standing to Harry's right with his pistol drawn and aimed at Harry's head. He was quick off the mark, but his effort was in vain. Harry extended another arm towards the soldier and the gun was yanked sharply out of his hand. It soared through the air, landing twenty feet away. The others stood with their mouths open, watching as a sixteen-year-old boy bested two members of the most elite fighting force on the planet. Satisfied, Harry released the spell that held Lokey in place, and the soldier tumbled to the ground before nineteen astonished soldiers.

"As I was saying," said Harry, addressing the crowd. "You are facing an enemy with power you cannot imagine. It is true I am only sixteen years old, but it didn't take much effort to render two of you near helpless." He extended two fingers towards the lost gun, which jumped up the floor and zipped over to its owner, who caught it in one hand. Harry continued, "If I can do that, imagine what a fully grown wizard could do. The ones we are to fight can kill with a word, torture with a thought, and control anyone who crosses their path. They have no rules of war and will not rest until all of your kind are dead and gone. Get with the picture, gentlemen. A civilisation of wizards exists beneath your world and a small minority are planning to start a race war to exterminate you all. Are we going to stop this or sit around bitching?"

"Sir?" asked one of the soldiers; this time the tone was less sarcastic. "Did you say wizards?"

"Yes," said Harry casually.

"You want us to fight Merlin?" sneered Lokey, still angry about his embarrassment.

"Merlin died centuries ago," said Harry, backfiring the joke on the soldier. "We are fighting the Dark Lord – and yes, I know how corny that sounds. But wizards do exist, the Dark Lord does exist and he is coming. I used harmless spells to lift one of you and disarm another, but I can promise you, I could have done a lot worse to you. There are spells to melt the skin off your bones, to turn you inside out, to make your heart explode in your chest. There are killing curses, torture curses and those that do some of the foulest things you can imagine, and they WILL use them. You are all out of your depth, but at this time you are all we have. Now, your skills are not useless. We have the element of surprise, as they will not expect you guys. They have no experience fighting you, just as you have no experience fighting them. They consider normal people sub-human and will not dirty themselves learning about you. You have the advantage. Now, I can teach you what you are up against, but not here. We don't have time. Come with me now and we'll make a start. We have four days to stop a war before your government makes a first strike and the war begins. We are the only ones who can stop it so let's start. But before we do, hand in all mobile phones and any other means of communication. Our society does not exist and you will not be allowed to phone home or anything for the duration of this mission. No contact with the outside world."

The colonel produced a bin-liner and went around collecting the phones from the soldiers. While that was going on, Harry pulled out his Frog-Card.

"Rachel Shepherd," he said calmly. Her face appeared a second later. "We're ready. We need a window ASAP. We're in Hereford."

"Hereford? As in SAS barracks Hereford?" she asked. "Okay, I'll be there in a second."

"Apparate to me," he told her before pocketing the card and turning back to the soldiers.

"Get your stuff into the cars," said Harry. "We're moving out."

"Where to?" asked one of the soldiers. "I need to know if we've got enough petrol."

"You'll have enough," said Harry. They were interrupted by a pop. Much to the surprise of the soldiers, Rachel appeared out of thin air, wearing black trousers and a top with body armour over the top. The soldiers were slightly startled; it was not every day that a beautiful woman appeared out of thin air in front of them. Rachel shot a quick glance at the soldiers, who were cautiously eyeing her in return, hands resting on guns. She carried with her a large sheet of glass perhaps the six of a small door.

"Ah," she said. "Hang on." Using her wand, she enlarged the glass so that a Land Rover would fit through it.

"Can you set it up on that wall?" asked Harry, pointing to his right. The soldiers had stopped to watch her levitate the giant sheet of glass over to the wall. Harry approached the first Land Rover, around which five men were standing, watching Rachel.

"Let's get a move on, gentlemen," said Harry. "MOVE!"

The soldiers instantly climbed into the four cars and started the engines, ready to go. Harry grabbed hold of one of the roof bars and stood on the step beneath the door, pulling himself up onto the car. The soldier in the front rolled down the window so they could talk. There were four cars with five men in each of them. At the wall, Rachel had propped the sheet of glass up against it. She had also pulled out her card and was talking into it, presumably to Sirius at the other end, as Frank was at the Ministry. Sirius must be fixing the other end, thought Harry.

After a few seconds, Rachel tapped each corner with her wand. Lines of pale blue light began to grow out from the corners along the edge of the mirror. Harry heard a soldier gasp in astonishment as the lines connected, edging the mirror in light. Rachel tapped it with her wand a final time in the centre and the entire sheet of glass turned sky blue. It glowed brightly for a few seconds then faded, leaving an image of Sirius standing in a garden overlooking a Moorland valley. Harry sighed with relief that it had worked. Sirius reached a hand through the glass and Harry was relieved to see it appear in the hanger. Giving Harry the thumbs up, Rachel stepped through the glass and out into Devon.

"Let's go," said Harry. "Drive through it."

The engine roared into life and the soldier moved the car slowly towards the gateway, manoeuvring to get the car through with Harry on the outside.

"This is going to feel a little strange," said Harry as they neared it.

XXXXXXXXXX

"T'was the night before Christmas, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, except the three annoying little arseholes that won't let me go to Quidditch Practice," grumbled Ron, as he fished another book off the shelf.

"Your captain is in here," said Ginny in an irritated voice, gesturing at Katie Bell, who was sitting in an alcove on the other side of the room, looking up charms. It was a rotten way to spend Christmas Eve, noted Ginny. They would meet in the sixth year boys' dormitory in Gryffindor Tower later to practice. Terry, Luna and Ernie would fly in the window on brooms so they wouldn't be noticed.

"Now shut up and work," continued Ginny. "We will only be here another half hour and the ceremony is tomorrow. Unless you want to join dad and Percy in prison, I suggest you help." Ron disappeared between bookshelves, muttering to himself. Every member of the DA was in the library. Ron, Luna and Ginny were working down one end, Katie Bell was with Seamus and Susan Bones on another table on the opposite side of the room, and down at the far end were Ernie and Terry, along with two new recruits - Cho Chang and Anthony Goldstein. They were now ten strong, and with Cho and Katie both being in their final year, they could share a wider variety of hexes.

Ginny's mind kept wandering. The ceremony was tomorrow. Tomorrow, Voldemort would take control of the country; tomorrow freedom would come to an end.

Nearly an hour later, they were all gathered in the Sixth Year dormitory in Gryffindor Tower. They had been practicing all the new curses and hexes they had looked up. Over the fortnight that they had been together, the DA had come along in leaps and bounds. They had a wide and varied arsenal of curses for the using. Ginny wondered if they would be able to use them in a real situation. Real combat was not as easy to deal with as a classroom and a dummy. As Seamus put it, 'If we ever have to go to war against dummies, we shouldn't have a problem'. Katie had pointed out that he was not that witty and that it was taken from a Muggle film.

"Ginny Weasley!"

Ginny quickly fished the vibrating card out of her pocket, looking around to make sure she was alone. Harry's face was in the middle of it.

"Yes, Harry," she whispered. She knew none of the others could hear a word she or Harry said.

"Looks like the time has come," he said. "Assemble the DA. We are going to need your help, tonight."

"We're all together, practicing," said Ginny quickly.

"Where are you?"

"Gryffindor Tower, Ron's dormitory."

"Stay there," said Harry. "Be there in five." With that he was gone.

Ginny pocketed the card, trembling with excitement. Whatever was to happen would happen tonight.

XXXXXXXXXX

Harry reappeared on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. He crept closer to the castle, until he was at the edge of the shadow. From there, he took a deep breath and braced for the pain as he transformed into a phoenix. His takeoffs were still a little on the dodgy side, but he managed to get himself airborne. Once he was, it was not a problem to fly up to the window. He landed on the ledge outside. Through the window, he could see the eleven members of the DA sitting around, while Ginny spoke. Harry transformed back into his human form, managing not to fall off the windowsill in the process. He then rapped sharply on the window.

The look on their faces was fantastic. Ginny quickly bolted to the window and opened it, allowing Harry to climb in. He immediately glanced at the door.

"Sealed and silenced?" he whispered.

"Yes," replied Ginny. Harry trusted her to have done it properly. He took a moment to take in the room. There were eleven of them sitting around, with various books open.

"How's it been going?" asked Harry.

"A nightmare," said Seamus. "Rookwood has been breathing down our necks."

"But we've learned a load of spells," said Ginny.

"And some from Rookwood," said Katie darkly. "Not that we should use them." Harry raised an eyebrow. After three days of training the SAS to deal with basic spells and wizards, he was more used to the idea of killing. It shocked him that he could think about it so casually, but the colonel had been right: Voldemort had asked for this.

"In the fight for survival, there are no rules," he said. "Use any spell you have to, to keep yourself safe."

The others looked at him warily for a second, but he ignored it. "Is this everyone?"

Again, Ginny nodded. They all had their wands, and that was all they needed. Rachel had stolen the rest.

"Right," said Harry. "What I am about to propose is highly dangerous, but ultimately necessary. I have three more Aurors in hiding with me. We have a plan, and need your help. If you do not want to take part, or feel you cannot, no hard feelings - return to your dormitories and say nothing to anyone. Once you come with me, there is no turning back. You have one minute to decide. Sorry to rush you, but we need to leave ASAP."

"I'm in," said Ginny immediately. Harry wasn't sure if her eagerness was a positive or a negative factor, but he didn't comment. He waited for the full minute, and in that time, every member of the DA agreed. He was grateful for their help; he just hoped they wouldn't suffer for it.

"Thank you," said Harry. "We have to leave now. Here is a Portkey." He pulled a wooden spoon from his pocket and held it out. It was one that Rachel had made at the farm. Everyone took a hold and then Harry tapped it with his wand. He felt the familiar tug behind his navel and then he landed with a thud in the lounge Higher Croft Farm.

"Take a seat," said Harry, getting back to his feet. He gestured to a large wooden dining table, around which several chairs were laid out, one of which was already occupied by Hermione Granger. Harry watched as the DA took their seats, most of them taking in their surroundings as they did so.

"Where are we?"

"Somewhere in the West Country," said Harry cryptically as they sat down. After a few seconds, the doors opened and Sirius, Rachel and Frank came in and took seats as well, followed by two of the SAS men, dressed in black overalls.

"Okay," said Harry, walking around the table to the last empty chair. "First, let me introduce those whom you don't know. Rachel Shepherd, Sirius Black and Frank Longbottom from the Aurors. Captain Spears and Corporal Dixon, of the Muggle SAS. Now, let us move on. Tomorrow is Voldemort's inauguration ceremony. It must be stopped at all costs. Now, we know we cannot do this alone, so our best hope is to spring Dumbledore and the rest of the Order from their prison. Rachel here - " he gestured to her, for the benefit of the DA " - has discovered the location of the prison. It's in a supposedly abandoned World War Two Radar Station on Lundy Island. It is in the Atlantic, ten miles offshore between Wales and Devon.

We have three targets: firstly, Voldemort, who is at the Ministry, secondly, the Order who are on Lundy and, thirdly, Hogwarts, which is under the control of Rookwood and his Inquisitorial Squad. Frank, you spent most of yesterday on Lundy, any thoughts?"

"Security isn't the tightest I have seen," said Frank, leaning forward. "But it isn't light either. I counted twenty Death Eaters. They were not Black Watch, so I don't know if they are trained, or just civilians. There are several layers of wards on the island, most of them for detection rather than protection, as far as I can see. If we Portkey in or Apparate, they will know about it. There are Anti-Apparation wards over the bunker itself. Looks like we need to go in the traditional way, as in walk. The entrance to the bunker is at the base of a cliff leading out into a closed off bay. If we approach by sea, they will see us coming and hear the motor if we use boats, as the captain has suggested.

There is a Muggle ferry that takes tourists out there. We can get on the island that way and somehow get into the bunker. Once we are in, it shouldn't be too hard, unless the guards are professionals. I dug the blueprints out of the Ministry of Defence; it is only a small bunker, and there are only a certain number of places they could be, but we can't rule out Portkey evacuations and explosives."

"Right," said Harry. "Now, this bunker is Muggle built, and also in the middle of a major tourist attraction."

"At this time of year?" asked Rachel.

"The ferry was packed when I went yesterday," said Frank. "We will need to book tickets in advance. I'll head over at the crack of dawn tomorrow and book tickets."

"You will go to Lundy," said Harry, pointing to the DA and the Aurors. "Captain, I mean you no disrespect, but I don't want your men on Lundy. I made a promise to your CO to keep you safe."

"This affects our future as much as yours," said Spears, his tone calm, his eyes watching Harry cautiously, but without hatred.

"I can appreciate that," said Harry, knowing what he meant. "Yet, you have no experience fighting wizards. You have no idea what they can do. Your job comes later, when we are weak and you are strong. Have patience, please. However, your tactical advice is still appreciated. What would you suggest for Lundy?"

"Well," said the captain, spreading the blueprints over the table. "From the blueprints I see two ways in. I would split into two. One team can enter through an escape hatch here -" he stabbed his finger at the map. "Also from this point here at the base of the cliffs. The hatch isn't a problem, but the cliff may prove to be a bit of a nightmare. We will need to return to Hereford for SCUBA gear, or at least a motor-dinghy. At low tide, we will also need to climb, over the rocks that are there." According to the OS map, which they had handy as well, the entrance he was referring to was at the base of a cliff. The contour lines on the map showed that it was near vertical drop and that there were sharp rocks at the bottom, and warnings not to bring boats near the rocks.

"No boats," said Harry, shaking his head. It was too dangerous. "We'd be sitting ducks and they would hear us coming a mile away. Not to mention that if we did get ashore, we'd have to clamber over rocks and that would be slow and dangerous and again, we'd be sitting ducks." It would be impossible to approach from the sea without being seen and neither Harry not the other students knew how to abseil, meaning they couldn't climb down from the top of the cliff. Maybe the soldiers really did need to go in alone.

"We could descend on brooms," suggested Rachel. Of course! It was so obvious. As a wizard and a Quidditch player, Harry felt stupid for not thinking of it.

"Good call," said Frank, making a note on the paper in front of him.

"You seriously fly on broomsticks?" asked Spears, raising an eyebrow. Harry nodded with a small smile.

"Right," said Spears, shrugging and returning to the map. "You need to split into two teams: one for the cliff, one for the hatch. The hostages will most likely be held in one of these two rooms." He circled two rooms on the blueprints in thick marker pen. "I must insist though, that at least one of my men must accompany each team. What if you come across explosives, booby-traps and such like?"

"Frank?" asked Harry.

"We need everyone we can get," said Frank. "I can take one on a broom with me, but we need them alive, in case there are wards, locks or anything on the hostages. I suggest we take Myles, as he is a trained Medic. Muggle medicine is primitive by our standards, but it's better than nothing."

"Do you realise that you have no idea what they are capable of, and you can't block many of their attacks?' Rachel asked, addressing the captain.

"No different from a bullet," said the soldier dismissively, but not arrogantly. These men accepted death as an occupational hazard realised Harry. It was not something they looked forward to, but something they accepted. They risked their lives for a below average wage, and harsh conditions. He wondered what drove a man like captain Spears. Harry himself hung on to hope that he and his friends would be safe, and it was their protection that drove him, as well as his own life. What could drive a man, a learned man, like the captain to accept this kind of danger for anything other than his own survival? Harry had never had a choice and frequently fought for his life. Spears had chosen to join the army and do this job, placing himself in danger, not for his own benefit. It had to be something deep down and personal that drove him onwards. The man was a mystery to Harry.

Harry was suddenly aware that Spears was talking to him. He just looked blankly at the captain who repeated the questions.

"Are we weapons free?" asked Corporal Dixon.

"What?" asked Harry, coming out of his thoughts.

"Can we use lethal force?" There were going to be casualties, there was no doubt of that and given then choice between his friends and his enemies, Harry didn't have a problem with putting an enemy in a bodybag.

"Yes," said Harry, earning a surprised glance from Ginny. The time for half-measures was over. He could see her disapproval. From her stare, he got the feeling that she had suddenly seen him in a colder light. She probably now saw him as the Dark Knight in killing mode once more. He could reconcile that later – for now, he had a job to do. "You will be the second soldier going to Lundy?" asked Harry.

Dixon nodded.

"Take them alive and silently if you can," said Harry, expanding on the answer he had given the corporal. "Failing that, or if it all goes pear-shaped, take the bastards down any way you can. If it's a choice between us and them, it sure as hell isn't going to be us. You can work out the exact plan of attack later. For now, let's move on. Once Lundy is taken, then we move on to Hogwarts and the Ministry. Frank and Rachel, we need Portkeys ready to return the captives to the Ministry and those in no fit state to fight, to Hogwarts Hospital Wing."

"Hogwarts will be under the control of Rookwood," said Ginny. "He'll kill on sight."

"McGonagall can be relied on to take him out," said Harry. "I'll drop her a note during breakfast tomorrow. Madam Pomfrey will be ready in the Hospital Wing. Those who require medical attention can be sent there. I also want Portkeys for both of the SAS guys and a simple way to activate them. If they are injured, they can go straight to Hogwarts Infirmary to get treatment." In truth, Harry dared not think what state the hostages might be in, but he hoped at least a few of them were in a fit state to go to the Ministry. They needed all the help they could get.

"What about Snape?" asked Ron. "Can you be certain where his loyalties lie? What if McGonagall takes out Rookwood and then Snape takes out McGonagall?"

"We have no time to test him," said Harry. "Flamel will have it covered, I hope. As for the Aurors stationed at Hogwarts, we can slip something into their drinks or drug them."

"If you poison them, Rookwood will know," said Ron. "He's a git, but he's not stupid."

"Dope them up," suggested Spears. "Get them so high, they can't shoot straight." Harry noted the suggestion, but it was time to move on. They had very little time.

"The ceremony is at midday, so at half eleven I will move into the Ministry with the remaining eighteen soldiers under the command of Captain Spears. Fifteen will secure the entrance hall, while the other four come with me to the Auror Complex. We will disable the Floo Network and reinforce the wards, so the only way out will be through the entrance hall. The Auror Complex is where the Portkeys will deliver those able to fight once Lundy is secure. From the Auror complex, everyone will acquire armour and weapons. From there, you must infiltrate the ceremony. The loyal Aurors will be grouped together to keep them out of trouble. We need to locate and recruit them. Then you play the waiting game. If I know Voldemort, he will wait for me to come to him. On my signal, unleash hell. Take the Black Watch down. I hope to have enough support from the audience and loyal Aurors to take the Black Watch out of the game. With no Voldemort and no Black Watch, we should have control of the Ministry." Harry had gone over it time and time again in his head. It was the best he could come up with, and it stood a chance, but it was by no means foolproof.

There was silence in the room as his audience stared at him, and the maps in front of them. For nearly a minute no one spoke, before Rachel broke the silence.

"This all hinges on you defeating Voldemort," said the Auror softly. "What makes you think you can defeat him? No offence, but many have tried - and look what happened to Dumbledore. Also, you plan to march just four soldiers and what, ten of us, plus perhaps another ten of the hostages at most, who are not one hundred percent fit, against the whole of the Black Watch?" This was the part of the plan that Harry was most proud of; he had an ace up his sleeve.

"Do you remember that secret weapon that went missing from the M.O.D. in Devon last month?" asked Harry, looking her in the eye, but unable to keep from grinning at his own brilliance.

"You're kidding," said Rachel, her eyes wide.

"I have it," said Harry. He motioned towards Ron and Ginny. "These guys helped me extract it. The other two weapons have been destroyed. It will shut down all magic in a five-mile radius when it is on. If I can remove Voldemort's magic, he will be defenceless. Now here is the complicated part. Even if I kill him, the Black Watch and Death Eaters would tear me apart. While I have no doubt that Ginny, Ron and you guys can take out Death Eaters with magic, physically you don't have a hope in hell of besting them hand to hand, especially if they carry knives. That is where you come in, Captain. Your men are to secure the Entrance Hall to the Ministry, around the Fountain of the Brethren. Once panic erupts, every civilian will flee there in an effort to get out. None will be allowed to escape, but you must hold them there. Do not shoot anyone not wearing Black Watch robes. Keep everyone inside and calm as possible. The rest of you are to come to the auditorium. While the duelling is going on, keep out of sight. As soon as the magic goes down, show yourselves. The blueprints are here, and we can steal enough black robes for you to disguise yourselves. You are there to protect us once the magic goes down, and hopefully there will be no means for the Death Eaters to fight back. In theory, you will just have to watch them. However, being Muggles, you may need to…prove your power."

"You mean shoot someone?" queried the captain. Harry didn't reply, feeling it was perfectly obvious what he meant.

"Nine men cannot cover a room that size," said Spears. "The entrance hall maybe, but not this auditorium. I will need another twenty at least. Blue team are stood by, so if you let me return to Hereford, I can bring in another twenty men." Harry paused for a second. This was to be a deniable mission. No one was supposed to know it was going on, and bringing in another twenty men was not what he wanted to do. People would ask questions if it emerged that forty soldiers had suddenly gone missing. It concerns about security were shared by the others.

"This is a major breach of the Statute of Secrecy," said Rachel, echoing Harry's thoughts. "Too many people know about this already."

"We're beyond that now," interrupted Frank, before Harry could respond. "We'll get them after the meeting." Harry didn't contradict Frank or overrule him, knowing full well the Auror was right. He had said it himself; the time for half measures was over. It was all or nothing.

"Okay," said the captain, satisfied that the debate was over. "That's the twenty men from blue team to secure the entrance hall and detain everyone, and twenty of us to cover your backs in the auditorium. That should be enough. One more thing though; let's say it works, and the magic is down, and they are defenceless, what then? We hold them at gunpoint for how long? And what of the civilians trapped in the building?"

There was a pause, and all eyes turned to Harry. This was the price of leadership, but luckily this time he could shift responsibility to someone else.

"Dumbledore and the remaining Order of the Phoenix will be there," said Harry. "They will tell you what to do. Everyone is to be detained until cleared. No one can leave until Dumbledore gives the all clear. Death Eaters are to be taken into custody. You're mainly there for crowd control."

"A million things can go wrong with this," said Frank, voicing Harry's main concern. However, time was short and this was all they had.

"Any better plans?" said Harry. "I'm all ears." There was silence in the room. "This plan is far from fool-proof, I agree, but it is the only one we have."

"Are your friends here even capable of this?" asked Frank, casting a condescending glance at Ron.

"Hey!" protested Ron indignantly, causing Harry to roll his eyes.

"Enough," said Harry, cutting him off before he could continue. "A fair question, Frank. They have been training in duelling and other Defence Against the Dark Arts. Their duelling ability goes beyond a normal student."

"But they are still only children," said Frank. "This isn't a game. They could get killed."

"We know this is not a game," said Harry. "But there is no one else. I don't like the idea of placing my friends in the line of fire, but I have no choice. You three cannot take on twenty Death Eaters alone. They will suffer just as much as anyone else if we fail, so they are just as involved as you or I."

"How long will the magic be down?" asked Rachel. "And we will get it back, won't we? Will strong wizards still be able to duel?" Arctic Thunder was at this point untested Harry realised, but according to the notes, it should work.

"No," said Harry. "The notes I took with the device say that it knocks out magic completely. It does not last for any given time. It is like a light bulb; you switch it on, magic goes off, then you switch it off, and the magic comes back on. As soon as Voldemort is dead and the SAS have disarmed the Black Watch, magic will come back on, and you will be back in control. From there, the Aurors - with the help of the SAS - will move the Death Eaters to cells and try and re-forge what's left of the Ministry of Magic."

"What is this signal you will give us to start the attack?" asked Frank.

"All hell will break loose," said Harry. "Frank, corporal, I'll leave you to sort out your plan for Lundy. Captain, you will draw up a plan for the ceremony itself. We need to be up by nine at the latest tomorrow, that's oh-nine-hundred hours. That gives us an hour to double check everything and go over it again. We must have left here by ten thirty hours. Let's get an early night. I will return to Hereford for Blue Team."

With that, he left the room. It occurred to him on the way up the stairs that it was Christmas Eve. This year, presents seemed to mean so little. With luck, tomorrow they would give the country a present they would never forget.

XXXXXXXXXX

Harry stared at himself in the mirror. The Boy-Who-Lived, the innocent defender of the light, was gone. The Dark Knight, the cold-blooded killer, had returned. Harry stared into the eyes of his reflection. They seemed much older than the rest of him, heavier, sadder. They showed the tiredness he felt, the severity of the situation. He wore the same clothes he had arrived in this world in. His black boots shone on his feet. His black combat trousers were darker than any night. Strapped over the top were the holsters. On his right leg was his primary wand and combat knife, and behind his back was his second wand. Hanging from the left side of his hip was his personal Stun-Baton. He had modified it further than it had been when he arrived, lengthening it to rival his sword. It kept enemies at a greater distance and felt more comfortable in his hands. Over his chest was his dragon-scale armour. All scratches and dents had been masterfully repaired and it seemed like new. Beneath the armour was his black jumper, which extended up his neck to his chin, and down his arms to his wrists, where a pair of black leather gloves took over. Over his shoulders hung a hooded black travelling cloak, held together by a silver clip. Over the top of the cloak was his Katana, which hung diagonally across his back. There was also one addition to his arsenal at this time. On his left thigh was a small black pistol, a present from the captain. Harry had not wanted it, and had rejected it, but as the captain had pointed out, he could not guarantee that he could get close enough to Voldemort, once the magic went down. If all else failed, he had no choice but to use a gun. It was there for emergencies and only emergencies.

The Dark Knight had returned. Snape had said that the cold-blooded killer was needed, not the Boy-Who-Lived. He had said that Harry had to become the monster again, to have any hope in succeeding.

"You're wrong, Snape," said Harry to his reflection. "This time you're wrong."

Harry had full control over his past abilities. His mind was set. He would kill a man today, but he would not become the darkness he so feared. We are who we choose to be, and he had made his choice. He was not his other self; the Dark Knight was dead. He was all that remained. Harry swished his wand and his entire clothing glowed for an instant before turning as white as snow. The only exception was his hooded cloak, which remained black as the night. He would not be noticed while wearing it, where as white stood out a mile. He was ready. Time to go to war, and possibly to death. All thoughts of returning home to his world were gone. Only two things mattered: save his family and kill Voldemort.

The time had come.

Harry descended the stairs to find the others waiting in the lounge. The DA all wore armoured vests, presumably from the supply that Rachel had stolen from Black-Watch armoury. The adults and some of the DA had Stun-Batons hanging from their hips, and a second wand in their pockets.

"Are we ready?" asked Harry, reaching the bottom of the stairs.

"Ready," said the captain. Those who were bound for Lundy were all wearing clothes that would not get them noticed. The two soldiers wore anoraks, hiking boots and combat trousers. They carried a backpack, the contents of which Harry was uncertain, but he assumed they contained a machine gun, handgun, and a few flash-bangs and grenades. The students were all going to Lundy, so they were dressed as though they were going for a hike, except that they also brooms with them, concealed in bags designed for guitars. Not many hikers carried guitars, but the guitar-cases would raise less questions than people carrying brooms. Harry just hoped they were not asked to open them, but with Frank, Sirius and Rachel there too - there shouldn't be any big problems.

The remaining soldiers who would take over the Ministry with Harry were also ready, dressed in full combat gear: black overalls topped by Kevlar vests, which were covered in pouches containing spare magazines. Each of them had a pistol on their thigh and a combat knife. They also all carried machine guns with the extended barrel of a silencer and a small laser. They wore helmets and gasmasks. They looked like true Special Forces, shrouded in black, with the inhuman face of a gasmask. Underneath their coveralls they wore magical body armour, which would protect them a little against the incoming spells, but not much. They had to keep out of sight. There were thirty-eight of them, now; eighteen had a red stripe on their arm and twenty had a blue one. Harry briefly wondered if they were to be Obliviated after this battle, or his offer of a working relationship with the Muggles would be realised. It was the Ministry's decision.

Harry checked his watch; it was half ten. Harry took a deep breath. There was nothing left to say. All they could do now was fight like hell and hope for the best.

"You'd better get going," said Harry. "Good luck and Godspeed."

"Take a hold," said Frank, offering an empty bottle of wine to the soldiers, while Rachel did the same to the DA. The SAS had been briefed on Portkeys and what to expect, but they were still a little hesitant. Their faces remained neutral, but Harry could see they were nervous. Just before they disappeared Harry truly began to appreciate the danger he was putting his friends in. The plan was all they had, but so many things could go wrong with it. If anyone died, it would be his fault and his alone. Was there another way? Had he missed something? Questions started flowing into his mind; the seeds of doubt had been sown. He was starting to second-guess himself. No, snap out of it, Potter, Harry scolded himself. This was the only way. If Voldemort won, they would all die. This way, at least they had a chance of survival.

"Right," said Harry to the remaining soldiers still in the room. He felt a little uncomfortable talking to the expressionless gasmasks that covered their faces. There was something inhumanly creepy about them. "We have ninety minutes until the ceremony. I need to deliver a letter. These Portkeys will drop you in the middle of London in a populated area. You are to hold positions until I arrive. Good luck."

The soldiers nodded, not saying a word. At this point, what was there to say? They all took hold of the Portkey and as Harry tapped it with his wand, the soldiers disappeared with a pop leaving Harry alone in the house. They would appear in what was a closed and abandoned shop. In there, they could hide until needed. He quickly tidied the room, removing any evidence that they had ever been there. The soldiers had cleaned it all out this morning, removing all evidence, leaving nothing for any forensics team to find. The only clues left that they had once been there were the four Land Rovers parked outside, which would be removed later before the lady of the house was revived. Aunt Marge herself was still unconscious in the bedroom upstairs. He would include that in his letter, so that even if things went wrong, someone would come and wake her and remove the Land Rovers.

Satisfied that their tracks had been covered, Harry concentrated on Hogwarts and disappeared in a ball of flame. It was fast becoming instinct for him to travel like this. He didn't really think about it anymore, he just did it.

Harry reappeared on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. He didn't dare to go straight into the castle in case he materialised in front of anyone. Instead, he appeared about ten feet inside the tree line, behind Hagrid's hut. Harry glanced both ways before stepping out of the trees. He darted into cover behind Hagrid's hut. He wondered what it was used for now, since Hagrid had been fired two years ago. To him, it would always be Hagrid's hut, not a storage shed or whatever it actually was. Harry missed his largest friend.

With a final glance around, Harry disappeared with a flash of flame and reappeared simultaneously to the side of the main doors. The doors were open, allowing a draft in. Harry cautiously glanced both ways. The sun was high in the sky and the weather was surprisingly pleasant for the time of year, though there was a chilly wind blowing through the valley. The lake looked a bit choppy from where Harry stood. He was warm enough in his clothes, and ignoring the wind, crept into the castle. He slipped into the shadows and up to the notice board. Sure enough, on a big sheet of parchment was a notice about the Inauguration. All students were to be in the Great Hall at eleven; that must be where everyone was. Perfect! He was due a bit of luck.

Keeping his footsteps as quiet as possible, Harry ran up the stairs two at a time, jumping the trick steps and running along the corridor in the direction of the kitchens. Part of him wondered what Rookwood had thought when the DA had disappeared off the face of the earth, leaving everything behind. Never mind, this was not the time to think about it.

Harry tickled the pear and the painting opened up, revealing the kitchens. The room was full of elves running about like headless chickens preparing all manner of foods for the feast. As Harry entered, one of them immediately came up to him.

"You are not supposed to be here, sir," said the elf. "Mistress McGonagall says everybody is supposed to be in the hall, sir."

"I know," said Harry, kneeling down to face the elf. "Is Perky here?"

"I is here, Master Harry Potter, sir," said a voice, and another elf joined Harry.

"Perky, I need the item I asked you to look after for me," he said. Harry didn't catch the response, but the elf disappeared and reappeared a second later carrying a familiar-looking backpack. Perky handed the bag to Harry, who checked it and then slung it over his shoulder. "Thanks, Perky," said Harry. Everything was in order. Now he only had one more job to do.

"Can you bring me a quill, ink and parchment? Just a little, enough for a note," he asked the elf. It only took six seconds for the eager elf to return with all that he had asked for, carried on a silver tray. That was what Harry called overkill, but he didn't say anything. He scrawled a quick note on the parchment and then turned to face the elf again.

"Perky," he said slowly, not sure how the elf would take the request. "I have a request from Headmaster Dumbledore." The elf's ears perked up at the name, and he glanced awkwardly around, clearly scared.

"The dark man telled the elves not to be speaking of him," said Perky, his voice hushed and strained. "He is to be giving us clothes if we does." Rookwood had clearly threatened the elves, but their loyalty was always to their true master, and Dumbledore's name was worth thousands of Rookwood's.

"But Dumbledore is still the Headmaster," said Harry, stressing the name.

"Perky cannot admit that he agrees or he is having to punish himself," said the elf. Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the remembered Dobby's episodes. He didn't have time to try and outwit a House Elf into doing what he wanted, and he certainly wouldn't admit that he was having trouble outwitting a House Elf.

"But you will do what your true master asks you to?" asked Harry. The elf glanced each way, checking that they were alone before whispering in a shaky voice.

"Yes."

"Thank you, Perky," said Harry, breathing a sigh of relief. "He needs you to borrow some Draught of Living Death from the Potions cupboard and put some in the drinks of the Black Watch Aurors."

"I is going to do it," said Perky.

Harry thanked the elf before leaving. Time was short. He pocketed the note he had written and made his way out into the Hall.

Ah! A thought had just occurred to him. He was going to have issues with this next bit. He had not thought about how to attach it. He didn't have a pouch or anything and that would be too big once he changed. He would have issues picking up a flat piece of parchment with claws, and wings were just as useless. He had no practice at this kind of precision manoeuvring – contrary to popular belief, moving as an Animagus was hard as one didn't automatically inherit the instincts of the animal in question. In the end, it occurred to him that he could crumple the note into a ball. Then he could carry it. Yes, that would work.

It also occurred to him that he didn't know where the owl's entrance came out on the roof. He had never been up there, but it couldn't be too hard to find. Now he just had to change. He had done it before, but it was a little different now he actually needed it. Also he had yet to master flight, but there had never been a better time to learn.

XXXXXXXXXX

"In one hour," began Professor Rookwood, standing in front of the staff table at the front of the hall, "the broadcast will begin." The hall was set up as per the previous broadcast from the Ministry. From here, they would all witness the events in the Ministry, and Minerva was sure it would be one to remember, one way or another. Minerva watched the speech with an anxious face. What was going on? What was Potter doing? He had to act today, but what was he waiting for? They had one hour; that was it. Her blood ran cold as she thought about what would happen if he did nothing. Did he even know what was happening? Surely he must. He had to do something; he just had to. Where the hell was he?

Rookwood droned on to the school, who were looking rather depleted since the nine students had disappeared last night. No one had noticed until this morning, and by then it was too late. Rookwood had spent a long time in his office, presumably informing Crouch. After that, he had interviewed the dorm-mates of the missing students, but no one seemed to know where they had gone. Minerva had a fairly good idea who was behind it, but she wasn't sure that Potter was stupid enough to put students into a battle. What was that boy doing?

Suddenly there came a loud squawk that cut Rookwood's speech short. All eyes glanced up to see a magnificent red phoenix soaring in though the owl's entrance. Phoenix song filled Minerva's ears as the stunning bird descended over the hall, bringing with it a feeling long forgotten in these walls: hope.

"Fawkes!" gasped Nicolas to her right. "Albus is alive, Minerva!" Minerva's heart skipped a beat, but then realisation dawned on her. That was not Fawkes. Oh, he hadn't! How foolish was that boy? She was impressed that he had managed to learn to fly, but this was a dangerous game, and it showed his ability to Rookwood. He would report to Crouch and all elements of surprise would be lost. Curse Potter's bravado!

The phoenix flew lower as it neared the front of the hall, coming closer and closer to where Minerva sat. Rookwood was forced to duck as the bird passed, aiming to slash him with its claws. Phoenixes are peaceful, Harry, thought Minerva, as Rookwood dived out of the way. Don't over do it! The bird looped around the back of the table.

"Dumbledore's bird," said one of the students. "He's back!"

"Nonsense," snapped Rookwood. "It's just lost." He reached into his robes, producing a wand as the bird swooped again, this time for Minerva. She watched in silence as the bird glided past her dropping a scrunched up ball of parchment in her lap before swooping past and back up towards the skylight, narrowly escaping a curse from Rookwood's wand, and then it was gone.

Minerva unravelled the parchment, and read the words, scrawled on it.

Professor McGonagall,

Keep watching. When we attack, take Rookwood down. Keep an eye on the Inquisitorial Squad. Disable the Floo. Send Madam Pomfrey to the Hospital Wing now. Injured will be sent straight to her - also expect Muggle casualties. Black Watch have been drugged. Hogwarts is yours again.

HP

P.S. Higher Croft Farm, Mary Tavy, Devon. Woman in stasis. Free her and remove evidence if something should go wrong. Good luck.

Muggle casualties? What did he mean? What was he planning? Minerva relayed the message to Nicolas, who sat to her right. He then managed to pass it on to Poppy, who promptly left, as Rookwood droned on about how special today was. He hadn't even mentioned that it was Christmas. The tree in the corner, no longer the central focus of the room, looked old and weltering even though it was new and under a stasis charm. What a sad Christmas, and now the Angel of Death was coming to the Ministry. Black Noel would seem like a picnic compared to today.

She just hoped Harry Potter knew what he was doing.

XXXXXXXXXX

It was eight minutes past eleven as the MS Oldenburg came alongside the jetty on Lundy Island. The crossing had been pleasant in that the sun was shining and the sea had been flat. However, the icy westerly wind swept bitterly off the Atlantic and chilled the passengers to the bone. There was no shelter on the deck save for the cabin, which was off limits to all but the crew. The lower deck with the bar was full of people having a quick drink before they arrived at the island; mainly hot drinks rather than alcohol. No one paid any attention to the party of men and children on the deck, who stood at the front of the ship watching the luscious green island drawing ever closer. The ferry had sailed from Bideford on time and had passed its counterpart from Ilfracombe mid-channel. As the ship docked, everyone disembarked and moved up on to the tarmacked area at the end of the jetty. There was a small pub and an ice cream stall to the left and beyond that the island itself. Who could eat ice cream on a day like this? thought Frank, shivering slightly beneath his anorak. Hikers and bird-spotters filed off in various directions along well-trodden paths lined with bracken and gorse, while the party of hikers waited. Nothing seemed special about them. They all wore normal clothes with anoraks. They looked like a school party with five teachers and twelve children. They were, however, the only ones who appeared not to be having a good Christmas day.

"Okay," said Frank, zipping his anorak up high around his neck. "This is it. Let's get into position. You all have your brooms?" He stared down at the group of twelve children, two soldiers and two other Aurors. So these were the heroes everyone was counting on to save the world? Ideally, only two of them would be here. This was a job for trained Aurors, and fully fit ones at that, he though casting a wary glance at Sirius, who stood beside him. Of course, that was impossible at this stage to find a better team, or any other team at all, as there was no one else. Frank just hoped that this bodge-job of an operation, manned with people he wouldn't trust to organise a parent's evening, didn't get them all killed. Part of him appreciated their courage, but he knew that he couldn't concentrate on his job if he was constantly worrying about them. He hoped to Merlin that Potter knew what he was doing.

Frank received nods from all those he had spoken to; they were set. They had fifty minutes left until the ceremony. That meant that they had half an hour to complete their mission and get to the Ministry. The timing was so tight, the team had no experience and there were a million variables that could go wrong, not to mention that the entire strategy relied on a sixteen-year-old boy defeating the most powerful Dark Wizard in fifty years. Still, they had to try.

"Let's go." Frank set off up the slope towards the northern end of the island. The path was tarmacked, and wide enough for a tractor, since there were no cars on the island. The road continued up the hill for perhaps one hundred metres and passed a tavern and three ornate country cottages, before melting away to a muddy track, spotted with rabbit and sheep droppings complemented with the occasional pile of horse manure, much to the Weasley boy's disgust. Frank shot him a silencing glare as they trekked up the hill. He set a quick pace, with which the others had to jog to keep up. The SAS were used to this kind of pace and strode along in single file after the Auror, their backpacks slung over their shoulders. Sirius and Rachel hung at the back, keeping pace and making sure the slower of the children were all right. Frank kept his eyes peeled for anyone in robes, anyone loitering or seeming out of place as they walked, his trained eyes picking out small details so easily missed. So far he had found nothing as he marched up the hill, the grass on which flattened under the harsh winter wind, and sprinkled with a light dusting of frost, which would soon be gone under the sun which shone in the clear, but chilly sky.

Frank was surprised that so many people were out and about on Christmas Day. Christmas was a time for families, which was why Frank hated Christmas as it brought back painful memories. He couldn't understand people going out for Christmas. The whole point was to stay at home with the family; people didn't appreciate what they had until it was taken away. He wished he had one more chance to spend Christmas with Alice, Neville and what would have been their second child. If it had been a boy it would have been called Ira, and if it were a girl it would have been Guinevere. What he wouldn't give to have them back, but he never would thanks to Harry Potter, the boy he was now following perhaps to his death. Fate had a wicked sense of humour.

Frank suddenly realised that in his musing and anger, not only had he stopped checking for potential hazards, but his pace had quickened and although the two soldiers were up to it, the students were struggling. What was Potter thinking bringing them along?

They walked for nearly a mile before they reached the top of the hill, where the road merged with a field, through which a muddy track was still visible, but was overgrown by gorse and brambles. Frank continued through the field, keeping a fast pace. The wind was stronger now that they were out of the valley. After about one hundred metres, the trail forked; one continued straight, while the other headed off at a forty-five degree angle to the right. The signpost read Cliff-Top Path.

"Rae?" called Frank over his shoulder as he came to a halt. The others were in a line behind him and it was another ten seconds before they were all grouped around enough to hear, due to the wind. Rachel hadn't heard his summon, so he repeated her name.

"Do you know your IP?"

"What's an IP?" asked one of the children.

Frank shot him a glare, but Rachel answered politely. "Insertion point," she said kindly. "And yes, Frank, I know where it is."

"Then this is where we go our separate ways," said Frank, gesturing to the sign. He would take the coastal path with half of the students. "Right," he said, addressing the kids. "Split into the groups we decided last night." He watched as they split into two groups. He had taken the time to learn the names of those who would be coming with him. He had both Weasleys and the Mugglebborn girl, Hermione. There was also Cho Chang, the Chinese girl, and then Amelia's niece Susan and a ginger girl called Hannah Abbot. He was also taking Corporal Dixon with him, while Rachel took Sirius and the Medic, Myles. It seemed that they were ready.

"I'll give you a call when we're in position," said Frank to Rachel, turning to head off up the coast path.

"Oh, and Frank," came her reply after he had gone a few steps. He stopped and turned back to face her. "Merry Christmas." Frank smiled to himself, despite his general dislike for this season. He nodded and then turned back to face the soldier who was coming with him along with the six students. With a wave of his hand he started off up the path, gesturing for them to follow him.

Rachel also gestured for her team to follow her and set off along the path they had originally been on.

They were visible for perhaps another minute or so before the paths were separated as the main one Rachel was using sank into a depression in the land, while Frank's skirted a hill towards the cliff top. Of the eight of them, seven carried guitar cases inside which was a broom. It did look slightly suspicious, but no one had yet approached them and Frank's eyes had not picked up on anything. It was another hundred metres to the top of the cliffs. There was a fence ten metres from the edge, stopping people from getting too close, but still giving them the view. Frank glanced each way up the path, making sure they were alone, before he hopped the fence and rushed into a patch of gorse from where he couldn't be seen from the path. Safe inside the patch of gorse, he turned back to the others to see that already two had made it across. He kept a watch as the others quickly made their way into the hiding place.

"From here we have to fly," said Frank. "They'll be watching the paths, and this is the only place to descend without being seen. We'll follow the cliff around to the next bay. The entrance is at sea level inside the bay. We need to stay against the cliff, so people above can't see us. Keep it tight."

He was removing his broom as he spoke and the others followed suit, unzipping the black padded cases. "Let's get ready," said Frank, checking the paths once again for any passers-by. Dixon removed his backpack while the others got their brooms out. He reached inside and pulled out a small metal object. The eerie metallic click of a pistol being cocked followed as the SAS man readied a pistol extended by a silencer and slipped it into a holster beneath his left arm. He slid two black objects that Frank assumed were refills into his pockets before giving the Auror a nod. Frank stood up and mounted the broom, gesturing for Dixon to get on behind him. Nervously, the soldier swung his leg over the broom behind Frank. He was probably wishing he could abseil down, but this was more efficient and it didn't leave them like sitting ducks if anyone saw them. All six students were ready. Frank happened to know that three of them were Quidditch players, so this shouldn't be too bad.

"Hold on," said Frank to the corporal. "These things move fast." He felt the corporal's arms grab his waist tightly. They were ready. "Follow me, stay close to the cliff and do what I tell you. Let's go." The order was sharp, but they didn't have time for manners. With a deep breath, Frank kicked off and headed towards the cliff-edge. As it reached the edge, the broom turned ninety degrees vertically downwards and shot straight down towards the jagged rocks and icy waves below. Frank heard the gasp of the corporal behind him and felt the man's arms tighten around him. He suppressed a smirk as he dove towards the waves. Frank pulled out of his dive as he neared the water, maintaining a height of perhaps two metres above the waves. He kept to within the same from the cliff as well. The brooms glided silently over the waves, skimming towards their targets. Thankfully these had fences to stop hikers getting too close to the edge of the cliff, so as long as they stayed close to the cliff, they were invisible. Frank led them around the cliff for almost one minute before coming to a halt on a corner. The cliff, which was just over a metre to Frank's left, seemed to end, but in fact turned sharply left and into the bay. They were at the entrance to the bay. Once they rounded this corner, there was a chance of being seen. However, they had to wait.

"Around this corner," he said as everyone came close. "Is the bay with the bunkers entrance in it. Once we get the go-ahead from Rachel, head for the entrance as fast as you can. This is it, gentlemen. Be careful."

XXXXXXXXXX

Rachel waited until Frank had gone a few feet before setting off towards the North end of the island with Ernie, Luna, Terry, Anthony, Katie, Seamus and Sirius along with one trained killer, the soldier named Myles. They moved at a brisk walk, which meant that they overtook most of the hikers enjoying a quiet day out at Christmas, who meandered along the path at a leisurely pace. What could this odd ensemble of silent hikers be in a hurry for?

The path reached a T-junction after one hundred metres with a farmhouse at the junction. A tractor was parked in the entrance to the farm, with the owner halfway inside the bonnet of the machine playing with the engine. Rachel turned left towards the east, checking that everyone was keeping up. On the right after fifty metres was a style. It was a small wooden ladder that allowed hikers to climb over the walls that kept sheep in, since the footpath went through the farmer's field. One by one, the nine of them climbed over the style and into the field, startling the sheep as they did so, which ran off, bleating as their field was invaded by the hikers. Once they were all over, Rachel led them along the grassy path, slightly darker than the other grass from where it had been trodden before. About fifty metres into the field, Rachel saw what she was looking for. A few metres to the right of the path was a clump of long grass, in the middle of which lay a round sheet of metal - a manhole cover.

The nine of them converged around the hole, staring down at the hatch, which was rusty and overgrown with moss, lichen and covered in mud. Sirius pointed his wand at the hatch and removed the long grass and moss with a quick Reductor Charm. Rachel glanced all around them, making sure that no one was watching. The curtains were drawn in the farmhouse, and the only movement was the farmer with his head inside the tractor. Along the other side of the wall, two intrepid hikers wandered along the track, only their hats visible above the wall. They were alone. Rachel shivered in the icy breeze as Sirius finished removing the grass. The others huddled round, with the added advantage of sharing heat. While Luna Lovegood seemed completely oblivious to the cold and seemed to be staring into space, Katie Bell - whose father had once been an Auror, Rachel remembered, until he had been killed in action was shivering and looking very pale.

With the debris removed, Rachel could see the hole more clearly. It was a dome-shaped cover and had a wheel about eight inches in diameter on the stop of it.

"Like a submarine," noted Seamus. "Twist the wheel and it unlocks." It wasn't exactly rocket science. Sirius sank to his knees next to the hatch, using the other's bodies to hide what he was doing from passers by - not that there were any. This was not the scenic part of the island. Sirius grasped the wheel tightly and tried to turn it. It refused to budge, and after a few seconds, Sirius hissed in pain and grasped his shoulder, his face contorted in pain. His arm was not fully healed. Rachel hoped it didn't mean he couldn't fight. They were going to need him.

"Private Myles," said Rachel, looking up at the soldier. "Can you budge it?" The soldier seemed to have muscles growing out of his muscles, she noted, before quickly forcing the thought aside. This was not the time to be thinking about men. Myles knelt down by the hatch and grasped it as Sirius had done. Rachel glanced at her watch as Myles heaved. It read eleven twenty-eight. They were fast running out of time.

"Come on," she said under the breath.

"Rusted solid," announced Myles after a few seconds of trying. Rachel saw the children's faces change to shock and fear. They stared blankly at each other and then, inevitably, turned to Rachel for answers. She didn't let her concern show.

"What do we do now?" asked Terry Boot, staring down at the hatch.

"Blow it?" suggested Sirius.

"Too loud," said Myles. "The bunker is made of steel. The blast will echo for miles and they will know we are here. However, I did bring cutters, mainly because I assumed they'd be locked in a sealed room." Rachel breathed a sigh of relief. That was why they needed professionals. It was fortunate that they thought ahead. It never occurred to Rachel that they would not able to get in, and chances were that Potter never considered it either. The soldiers really were useful. Potter had been right. Rachel had been a tad sceptical at first, when she heard that they were to use Muggle manpower.

Myles stepped forward, removing a small cutting torch from his backpack as he did. Rachel noted that the Purebloods amongst the group were watching the cutter with fascination. Macmillan and Goldstein stepped back in shock as a strong blue flame erupted from the end of it.

"Stand back," said the soldier, kneeling beside the hatch. The wizards took a step back as a fountain of yellow sparks erupted from the hinge as Myles brought the torch down onto it. Ernie Macmillan seemed mesmerised as the torch melted the hinge, dripping white hot metal down onto the grass. Rachel checked her watch again. Thirty-one minutes past eleven. Frank would be pissed; they had fallen behind.

It took three minutes for the soldier to cut through the hinges and the lock of the hatch. That done, he stood up, extinguishing the torch and removing his visor. The hinges and lock had been surgically removed.

This was the back entrance to the bunker, the emergency exit, so in theory it would not be guarded, but she was taking no chances. "Wands," she said.

Sirius knelt down, aiming his wand at the hatch, just in case there was anyone underneath it. With a deep breath, Rachel also aimed her wand at the hatch, taking one final glance around.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" she hissed. With a creak, the cover lifted free; Rachel breathed a sigh of relief. They were in! She dropped it on the grass to the side. The SAS soldier quickly took off his bag and removed the weapon; a pistol equipped with a silencer and cocked it with an eerie click. Rachel ignored it.

"Lumos!" Sirius muttered, igniting his wand and shining it down into the hole. Rachel dipped her head into the hole, shining the light down the passage below in each direction, checking for any signs of movement. From her position, she could see a thin corridor about a metre wide and two metres high. Pipes ran along one wall and the floor looked damp. The place stank of stagnant water. Rachel pulled her head back up and turned to the others. This was it. The hole was ready. Now, they found out if this had all been in vain.

"This is it, get ready!" she said as she dropped down into the corridor. Extinguishing her wand, she took two steps forward, staring into the gloom, allowing her eyes to adjust as Myles dropped down beside her. He was wearing an odd contraption on his head that looked like an odd visor, which held a small pair of binoculars in front of his eyes.

"Night vision," he whispered, apparently able to see her expression in the darkness. One by one the others descended into the passage. As they did, Rachel pulled out her Frog-Card.

"Harry Potter," she said as the last of them dropped down into the corridor with a small splash. Her voice carried in the darkness, so she reduced it to a whisper.

"Yes," came Harry's voice as his face appeared on the card.

"We're starting our attack now!"

---

AUROR'S NOTES

Here's the next chapter, I hope you enjoyed it. There's not a lot I can say about chapter 16 that the last line doesn't sum up. I'll leave it at that. We are nearing the end of the fic, I'm afraid. The fic is complete on my Yahoo Group, Stranger Trilogy (Stranger Underscore Trilogy in case the coder removed the underscore). You can find it by searching google. Anyhow, the group contains the chapter files for the complete fic and news about part two.

Enjoy

Jono
SerpantSorcerer