A noisy uproar overwhelmed Harry upon his arrival at the Ministry. Someone grabbed him roughly by the collar. "What is your wife's preferred broomstick?"

"The Firebolt Victory, Model 2.0," Harry answered. The person let him go.

"Sorry, Potter," Dawlish replied. "Needed to make sure no one's being impersonated, you know how it is."

"Absolutely, no problem."

The older Auror got Harry up to speed as they caught the lift to a conference room near Kingsley's office. "Looks like that Muggle reporter who did herself in was not magical…she was under the Imperious Curse. So, this Destruere Nex group hasn't broken the Statute of Secrecy, since, technically, it was not a magical person who spoke to the Muggles."

"Damn," Harry swore. "That's smart of them, keeps the Muggles from getting involved…and they're probably scared half to death in any event."

"Yep," Dawlish agreed. They nearly jogged to the conference room.

The lines in Kingsley's face had deepened since Harry had last seen the man about a week ago.

"How haven't we heard of this group before?" the Minister barked. "Do we have any information on them?"

"Well, if they're set up near where that televisoned attack took place," Savage pointed at a red dot on a map, "that would place them on the outskirts of a rural Muggle town. It would be a good place to build up support without worrying about outside interference."

"We'll need to do recon around that area later today," Kingsley declared. He turned to Harry. "Potter? Can you and Proudfoot do that?"

"Yes, sir," the Aurors replied.

"Good. Okay, let's see what else we can determine about this little group…" Kingsley muttered. "It appears the attack on the Muggle train was random. However, the houses are…" his face fell as he corrected himself, "or rather, were…"

"Lived in by Muggle relatives of Aurors and other members of the Ministry, sir." He'd just managed to maintain his professional tone—his own cousin had been killed in a "random" attack just a couple of weeks earlier.

"Damn blood supremacists." Harry just remembered to lower his voice before he had cursed. Though Shacklebolt and many new heads of departments had weeded out the bigotry that had marked the rule of Fudge and Umbridge, several people believed the Ministry had gone too far. A few editorials in The Prophet had recently called for a small re-introduction of "wizard pride," and took offense at the attempts of the Magical Creatures Department to improve the living conditions for "sub-human" species like elves and goblins. Harry wondered if Hermione's department had suffered from any attacks until the sound of a quill scribbling yanked him out of his inward focus.

"So, Destruere Nex is Latin for destructive, violent death, then." Dawlish underlined the words. "Sounds like we're dealing with another round of Death Eaters here, Kingsley."

"Yes, that seems to be the case." He glanced up at the clock. It was just going on 7:30. "I will be getting in contact with the Muggle Prime Minister shortly to discuss precautions we could set up to try and limit casualties should future attacks be in store. For now…" he looked back at the clock. "How about you all go home, get some rest, and report back in around noon."

With that, the team of wizards disassembled.

Harry arrived home to find a distraught Ginny crying at the kitchen table.

"It's h-horrible. All this happening again." Her breath hitched into Harry's neck as he wrapped her up in a hug.

"You shouldn't have to go through this again, Harry," she murmured. "Nor the other Aurors. We deserve some peace, don't we?"

"Yeah…we really do." Ginny kissed him hard and bit his bottom lip. "Could we have some peace now?" She wiggled her eyebrows at her boyfriend.

"Could I get a raincheck, love?" She sighed. "Sorry, Gin. I'm just not in the mood right now, and I'm pretty knackered."

"Alright." She kissed his forehead. "Get on to bed, then, Mr. Potter, and when you wake up, there will be a large brunch waiting for you."

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley," Harry joked. That earned him a swat on the back of the head and a "Shut up, Potter" as he walked off to his bedroom.

After a two hour, potion induced nap, Harry woke up to the smell of waffles, hash browns, and bacon cooking on a magically enlarged griddle.

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were helping themselves when Harry walked in with a yawn and a stretch.

"Feeling better, dear?" Ginny asked.

"Loads, thanks, Gin," he replied, giving her a less than chaste kiss. "And thank you so much for cooking breakfast—or is it lunch by this time?" he laughed.

Ginny blushed at her boyfriend's compliment. "Yes, well, Ron and Hermione helped too."

"Hermione, what are you doing here?" Munching on toast and eggs at home at 10:00 on a weekday was a distinctly not Hermione thing to be doing.

"Taking a bit of a personal day," she shrugged. "Creswell owled, said he's been getting Howlers all day—apparently the Destruere Nex riled up some of the more radical opponents of the Ministry. And Ron mentioned that I haven't used a lick of vacation day since I started at the Ministry, so I figured…"

"Why not relax for once?" Ron finished the sentence, looking positively gleeful at his achievement—he'd Hermione to skive off something for the first time since she'd stormed out of Divination class in her third year.

"What do you do on a day off, though?" she wondered.

Ron laughed and nearly choked on his waffle in the process.

Hermione rolled her eyes at her boyfriend's overzealous eating. "Anapneo."

Ron smiled. "Thanks, Hermione. And you can do whatever you like on a day off! Catch up on sleep, watch TV, play some wizard chess…" Peeves, the owl George had recently purchased for shop business deliveries, pecked at a window.

Ron opened the window, and the large black owl zoomed around the living room. "God, I swear he's related to Pig. Stupid thing…"

"I guess Weasleys just aren't allowed to have normal animals," Harry commented, grinning.

Ron snorted. "Got that right. Accio Peeves!" The owl made like a bullet for the redhead, but his days as a Gryffindor Keeper allowed him to catch it easily enough.

He looked over the letter. "Bloody hell! We're nearly sold out of our line of defense products! Looks like I've gotta go in early and order some more."

He gave Hermione a quick kiss. "Don't worry too much about…everything, dear. I mean, I know you'll worry some, but don't…err…"

"Go mental?" she commented, using one of Ron's favorite terms.

"Yep, exactly." He turned to his sister and best friend. "See you lot round dinner, then. Thanks for the breakfast, sis." He popped into thin air.

As Harry and Hermione magically cleaned up the plates, Ginny went to get on her Quidditch robes—she apparently still had practice that day.

"It's wicked that you're still in the playoffs," Harry told her just before she left.

"Yeah," she smiled. "Think you could come to the semi-final on Sunday? I always feel like I fly my best when you're there."

Harry nodded. "Of course, dear."

Hermione left the room to allow them a lengthy goodbye kiss.

"I love you. Good luck at practice."

"Love you too. Be safe."

And so, only Harry and Hermione were left at the house. Harry grinned at her. "So, what are you going to do with that day off?"

"I was thinking of popping into the Ministry—and before you tell me off, it's not to work," she added.

"You know me too well, Hermione," he smiled. "So, what are you going to do?"

"Convince Kingsley that we should set up some sort of transport to St. Mungo's to get those Muggles proper medical care," she replied, her tone suggesting that it would be no more difficult than catching the Knight Bus to get somewhere.

"Err…so you're just going to get…what, twenty something Muggles into St. Mungo's without anyone noticing?"

"Well, again, if I had some Ministry help, it wouldn't be impossible."

"But…Hermione…" Harry shook his head at her unyielding idealism. "That sort of thing's just not done. There's too much risk…who knows if St. Mungo's has enough Healers to go round…"

"I'm sure they do," she answered shortly. "After Pettigrew blew up that gas line, there were at least a dozen major injuries…I looked up the details at one point, you know, since it didn't make sense for Sirius not to get a fair trial," she added, and Harry couldn't help but marvel at her memory and thoroughness when it came to work related details. "And they treated all the injured witches and wizards. So why is this any different?" she asked, eyebrows raised.

He sighed. "It's just…some people at the Ministry think wizard status is being stripped of its importance, and…hearing about the kind of rescue mission you're talking about is the type of thing that might give the Destruere Nex even more incentive to attack. And it sounds a bit like a…" he bit his lip. "Saving people thing," he mumbled.

"That's a load of bollocks, Harry, and you know it!" Hermione narrowed her eyes. "No one wants to help cause they're Muggles, they're inferior." She put air quotes around the word and continued hotly, "And I'd think you of all people could understand how horrible it is to feel like that…"

"You think I don't want to help them?" His voice was dangerously quiet. "I do, Hermione, and I'd love to throw every one of those bastards that attacked them in jail. But people in the Ministry don't think like you do! People…other people care about appearances, and agendas, and getting ahead." He cut her off swiftly. "And I know, it's horrible, it's not right, but there's only so much you can do. You've gotta be practical sometimes."

"What, so wizards can maintain their superiority?" she retorted, getting nose to nose with Harry now.

"No, so you can survive!" he yelled back. "In case you didn't notice, the Nex are attacking Muggles, and I can't help thinking that you're going to be the next target, and I'm not letting them hurt you!"

Hermione softened at Harry's sweet (though often annoying) over protectiveness. "I get that you want to keep me me, Harry, and I appreciate it. But you're not stopping me," she continued with quiet determination. "After all, you've been doing dangerous stuff for your entire life, and my worrying has never dissuaded you, am I right?"

"Yeah," he muttered.

"So, I'm doing this. And again, thank you for the concern," she added kindly. She looked at the clock. "You said you've gotta get back to the office by around noon. Shall we get ourselves put together and then Floo in?"

"Sure," Harry nodded.

They arrived half an hour later—it was a quarter to twelve. "I'll see you later, then," Harry said, giving Hermione a hug. "Good luck."

"You, too. Be careful," she implored.

"You say that like I'm not," he replied with mock indignation.

Hermione snorted. "Because you never get yourself into risky situations." She gave a quick wave, then walked toward a large marble staircase. And as Harry went to the lift, he couldn't help wondering when he'd last spoken to Ginny about something other than food or Quidditch.