AN: *Insert huffy disclaimer here*
AN2: Very little actually happens in this chapter besides the main big event. Holy crap there's a lot of talking though. And a lot of thinking. Like, wow.
-:-
Chapter Fourteen: Flight
"Harry"
His name was spoken softly as he walked into the headmaster's office. Warm flickering light filled the circular room and as always Harry took a moment to observe the eclectic collection of instruments and baubles that the eccentric headmaster had collected over the years.
"Take a seat."
Moving calmly the teenager sorcerer took his accustomed seat across from his ancient mentor. Albus' eyes were rimmed with darkness from lack of sleep and liver spots had begun to appear across the backs of his hands. Harry had never seen him so old.
"You are I think, wondering why I asked for your presence yes?"
Harry gave a firm nod and spoke in calm tones for the first time since entering the office.
"Hermione and I both are curious as to the nature of this meeting. I would have thought you had said everything you needed to in the debriefing earlier."
Dumbledore gave a wan smile and the customary twinkle returned to his ice blue eyes.
"Indeed, however some things cannot be said in hearing of public ears. How are your studies going?"
The abrupt change of topic nearly caught Harry off guard but he was too used to the older man's meandering conversation style to be thrown off so easily.
"Poorly with all that has happened of late, training and preparing has become forefront in our minds, however we both believe that we are ready for our OWLS."
Dumbledore nodded and steepled his fingers
"What about your scholarship examination at the Wizarding Education Authority?"
Harry ran a hand through his head as he thought about his answer, Hermione sent him a reassuring series of thoughts that calmed him somewhat from his nervous, tense state.
"We're about as ready as can be sir, there aren't exactly many resources we can study from, I guess it'll be more of a practical examination than a written one?"
Dumbledore nodded gravely.
"As it is an examination of sorcery the examination will focus on your control, imagination and power. Rather than your comprehension, as sorcery is one of the most instinctual of all magical fields. I do believe that both you and Miss Granger will do superbly given your levels of power and your general talent with sorcery. The examination will be held two weeks after the end of OWL examinations, which despite my requests for them to be postponed, are going to proceed during their usual time period later this month."
He swept his hands across the cloth on his desk, smoothing out invisible wrinkles in the fabric. Harry sensed he wasn't quite finished with what he wanted to say and waited patiently.
"You are so proficient with the discipline that I believe you may even surpass my own scores in that test."
Harry was shocked, understandably so and simply concentrated on keeping himself from leaping about with the surge of excitement. Though he was sure most of that came from Hermione, who was leaping about with excitement back in their quarters.
"That is not why I asked you here today however."
'Here it comes' Harry thought blithely.
"You performed some incredible sorcery in the battle just passed my boy. Some of the most ingenious and overwhelming displays of magic I have ever seen came from you that day, I am concerned however that it took far too much from you, are you recovering aptly?"
Harry shrugged his shoulders, doing his best not to blush with pride.
"I'm recovering well enough, between Hermione and I we… recharge? Our magical reservoirs very rapidly and I think I could probably do a repeat performance of yesterday's battle now if I had to, I don't know if I would live through the experience but I could do it."
Dumbledore nodded, seemingly lost in thought, Harry waited patiently as the old man thought to himself. Eventually Albus spoke again.
"The French are stirring."
Harry raised an eyebrow at the non sequiter
"Miss Delacour's death at the end of the last school year has caused a great deal of turmoil across the channel. Monsieur Delacour has overridden many of the long standing trade agreements between English and French magical companies and is seeking a boycott of all trade between England and France. While we do not rely overly on our foodstuffs or other essentials from across the channel, many of our exotic potions ingredients and other luxury goods come through France from other countries. While this isn't an immediate threat it does mean that the little income that the ministry gets from trade will soon be completely obliterated. Magical countries do not have shipping lanes or aircraft trade lines to trade with distant countries; we trade neighbour to neighbour, usually across borders."
Harry raised an eyebrow slightly, unsure of how he fit into this
"What does Monsieur Delacour want? What would alleviate the pressure on the trade boycott?"
"He wants you to stand trial before the French Magical court for Murder."
Harry was flabbergasted, plain and simple
"But… Fleur betrayed me, she was the one who got us into that mess, she more or less got herself killed, Valmortis, under Voldemort's order's no doubts, actually killed her. How is any of that my fault?"
Dumbledore shook his head in a disappointed fashion.
"While our government is aware of Voldemort's return the French government has cut most of its communicative ties to Britain. Last they heard the Fudge administration was still adamant that you're delusional and Voldemort had not returned; As such Monsieur Delacour believes that you killed his daughter, the heir to the distaff Veela title of Le maison de la lune, one of the five ruling Veela families."
"Oh"
Harry's eloquent statement hung in the air for a second before Albus concluded gravely.
"Indeed."
Harry's mind was racing; he couldn't risk having to go to France to stand trial. He would be vulnerable there, surrounded by enemies, and away from home where he needed to be, and that would just be during the trial, what if he couldn't convince them of his innocence and they locked him up? He needed to be here, for the war, Hermione needed him.
"I'll not go."
"I'm afraid I must insist Harry."
The young man bolted from the chair so fast he might have blinked.
"You what?!"
Dumbledore stood slowly, wand not yet drawn but Harry doubted it would be far behind, he was vaguely aware of Hermione sprinting through the castle toward him.
"Britain cannot afford to lose this trade in times of war, if you have to go on trial to satisfy the French and avoid our economy being crippled then that's what needs to happen. It's for the greater good Harry."
Harry was in mild shock, not two minutes ago this man had been talking about how he and Hermione would pass their examinations and have better scores even than him, and now he was turning around and essentially condemning Harry to imprisonment, he was certain that the Communications blackout between France and Britain would prevent anyone from corroborating his story, it would be his word, and underage British lord, against that of the father of a murdered heir to the Veela government. Who knew if Madame Delacour would wade into things, if she did Harry doubted he'd ever see Britain again.
"Who are you? You're not the Albus Dumbledore who's taught me for so many years."
Albus shrugged finally pulling his wand from a sleeve of his voluminous robes.
"You've seen a face of me, one of many faces. I've lived for six hundred years Harry, there is much to me you do not know, furthermore; do you really think I would suggest sending you to France if I thought there was a better option?"
Harry growled, actually growled, under his breath and with a flick of his wand, fired a wave of magic towards his mentor, the sorcery was near shapeless, but Harry's mind intended for it to restrain and bind.
It never reached the older man who batted it away like so much chaff, it didn't really worry Harry, and he hadn't put any power into it at all. He stepped backwards towards the door and threw up a shield, time to get the hell out of here.
Hermione was nearly at the statue and he knew that between them they could hold off the headmaster as long as they needed to escape, but if any of the other teachers intervened they were screwed, they needed to get out, and fast.
"Harry, wait."
The words of the older man rolled over Harry like so much dirty air, not even worth breathing in as the teenager shattered the door behind him with a carefully placed blasting sorcel.
"You will return from France Harry."
For the first time since Harry had entered the room he detected a lie. Until now the older man had been perfectly truthful, but this was a bald faced lie. It was all Harry needed to spur him on.
He uttered his word of power and blinked to the bottom of the spiral staircase which was already conveniently wide open, Hermione had given the password it seemed. She spared a moment to brand his lips with a kiss before uttering another word of power, a sonorous note of raw magic that flooded the way Harry had come, filling it with a miasmic gas that would confuse and choke all who chose to pass through it. She was apparently not in a forgiving mood.
The pair of them blinked through the school, using the 'line of sight' restriction to their advantage by blinking to the end of corridors, then turning a corner before blinking again, rapidly travelling through the school in an almost untraceable fashion. When they got to the seventh floor corridor it was already filled with students, Regiment members all who had apparently been told by Hermione to await their return, many of them were already packed. Harry and Hermione's shared trunk was propped up against the wall.
Many of the regimentals exclaimed in worry and tried to question their two leaders but Harry quickly called for quiet.
"Professor Dumbledore has lost our trust, he's actively hunting me, and I need to get out of the castle, Hermione is coming with me of course, and I'll bring as many of you with me as will follow, but I won't order you to come. We'll be heading to Wales and we won't be back for a while, so decide now if you're coming with me, or if you're staying, I won't hold it against those who decide to stay."
Fred Weasley yelled from the back of the crowd
"What about our squad mates in the hospital wing? Won't they get left behind?"
Harry grimaced at the thought of transporting injured fighters.
"No, we'll be taking them with us, any other questions?"
"What about the war?" Came from Neville "We can't just be running after everything we've done to train!"
Harry grinned wryly
"Do you really think I'd ask you to do that, we'll be running to live, but we'll be here to fight when we're needed."
No other objections were raised and to Harry's amazement every single regiment member got ready in record time to leave the castle.
Harry sent a unit to collect the injured from the hospital wing, the idea being that a group of the regiment going to see their injured comrades wouldn't be looked at strangely, by the time anyone realized they were gone it would be too late. He did give each squad in the regiment a pair of portkeys, a feather and a marble.
"Use the feather first with the activation code 'Flight', it will take each squad to a separate place in the British isles, from there each squad should use the marble, activation code 'World' which will take you to the safe house. Ready? Right, let's get moving."
Harry shared a long careful gaze with his soulmate. Her hand slipped into his, their fingers entangling in a natural, habitual movement. He bent down and shared a chaste kiss with her before speaking the activation code, whisking them away into the night.
"Flight"
-:-
While forty odd teenagers were port keying across the country Valmortis and his personal guard were running tirelessly through the midlands of England. They had slaughtered a farmhouse filled with people the night before for food, Valmortis partaking of the dinner their victims had been eating.
It was tiresome to travel on foot such as they were but they had little choice, Valmortis, while a powerful wizard, was not one who recovered quickly from large expenditures of energy, another price of necromancy no one had bothered to mention to him until he was far too deep in its arts.
One thing this extended journey did do was allow him time to think, Mr Potter and his mudblood whore had shown a lot more power than he had been expecting, and the student militia was far more potent than his spies had indicated, apparently he needed new spies.
The losses suffered that day by his undead army had been expected, many of the vampires had been sick of unlife and one last hurrah had been all they had wanted. Now with Voldemort's minions wiped out they were down to the quick of his plan.
He was playing a dangerous game, any number of things could go wrong here, Voldemort could sniff his deceit and slaughter Epine, the forces of 'light' could scout his location and eradicate him and his bodyguards before he had a chance to recover. Epine's powerful hidden magic and independent personality could backfire horribly if they came to the surface, Fleur Delacour wouldn't take well to being enslaved.
He spared a glance for the undead beauty at his side; she was a powerhouse of magic and physical prowess, a weapon that he simply had to aim at his foes for them to be torn asunder. But she was also fragile, should she encounter Mr Potter too soon it was entirely possible that the bond they had shared, however involuntarily, could resurface. It was the same body after all, if a little changed.
He cast his thoughts back to those lone nights in Nurmenguard, listening to Grindelwald's teachings as the aging dark lord taught him everything he knew before he passed away. From those teachings came the seeds of a plan, utilising the most potent of necromancies he would engineer the perfect dark queen, a figurehead of power completely subservient to his will. And when he eventually passed on she would carry his teachings to the entire world, ushering in an age of magical purity and meritocratic power.
There were only a few obstacles remaining; not least of which a powerful Dark Lord.
-:-
Epine was torn.
One the one hand she was with her father, and very little else mattered, she trusted him.
On the other hand being that close to the castle had been almost physically draining. Not due to the proximity, but due to her efforts not to head in that direction herself.
There was something at that castle, something from… before. That drew her in like a moth to a flame. It was powerful and destructive, yet comforting, and warm.
She wanted it.
But it was gone now, dust on the wind to her supernatural senses. The incredible desire had vanished with the distance and all she had left to her now was the memory of that gravitational force that did it's best to draw her in.
What was it?
No… Who was it.
-:-
On a cliff face in the middle of nowhere a sharp sound like snapping plastic filled the night air. Two teenagers were disgorged onto the rocky plateau; the first, a dark haired tall male with an aura of power about him both physical and arcane, the second a lithe and vaguely petite female with wavy brown tresses who quickly rose from the slight crouch she had been in and stood as tall as her five feet allowed. Both teens carried themselves with poise and grace, the female like a dancer; elegant and lithe, the male like a jungle cat, all power and restrained violence. They were quite the pair.
Their eyes swept the terrain once before a single word was uttered and they were whipped away by the magic of the second portkey, leaving the cliff just as barren and desolate as it had been just moments before.
-:-
All across the island, and even some places in Ireland and France, more teenagers, usually in groups of three but sometimes two or four, were appearing via portkeys and, after a brief scan to make sure they weren't compromised; they activated their second portkey and headed to the same location as their peers. A couple of minutes later another wave of teenagers, the wounded and their escorts, went to different sites before disappearing again.
The exodus of the Regiment from Hogwarts was successful. They were on their own now.
-:-
Harry had identified many of the Potter properties with help of a couple of the family elves over the summer holidays. Few he had actually gone to, but during the Christmas holidays he and Hermione had decided to scout out a safe house for the regiment should they need one.
The issue was that few buildings were capable of housing thirty odd teenagers for any length of time, even in the Potter portfolio. Fortunately few did not mean there were none, and Potter manor was ideal for their needs.
Harry and Hermione were the first to arrive; the elves were already lined up and ready to greet their future lord and lady. Harry twisted on the spot to watch the other arrivals as Hermione went down the line to inquire after the health and (more importantly to the elves) the efficacy with which they had been working.
It was an archaic tradition but one that Harry and Hermione were determined to follow, if only not to give the elves (many of whom were getting on in age now) a collective heart attack. The lord of the household was expected to be aloof of the servants, and the lady was expected to be aloof of the businesses the lord conducted. In practise for the two teens this meant little because of their bond but Harry knew that the appearance at least had to be maintained.
As Harry watched the rest of the Regiment arrive and form up for orders he wondered how his mother coped with being restricted, at least publically, from the business side of the Potter holdings. He had to assume she and James discussed things later and that James knew her well enough to make decisions for both of them. He had the strangest feeling that Hermione knew the answer, but he couldn't be sure exactly why.
As this thought trickled over their link he caught a feeling of apprehension from his lover and turned to fix her with a gimlet eye; there was something she was hiding from him, not willingly, but it was happening nonetheless. She reassured him that he would know in time and, at least for now, that settled him. He trusted her implicitly; the idea that that trust could be betrayed was a worry he didn't want to have to endure.
Hermione joined him not long after and slipped a hand into his, comforting him and reassuring him of her loyalty both in the physical realm and through their bond. She could not tell him exactly what she was hiding, no matter how hard he tried. A Fidelius? On information? His mother's work perhaps? He had no answers but he suspected, and was reassured, that he would get them in time.
At last the rest of the healthy Regimentals had assembled and the Elves saw to the others, taking them to rooms so that they could continue with their recoveries. Harry sighed internally as he observed them all watching the two of them beadily. They trusted him, and followed him like the leader he had become, but at the end of the day they were still teenagers, and teenagers liked having answers to their questions.
Harry's voice rose confidently in the vast entrance hall of the manor
"Today in France the Veela royalty demanded a suit of charges against me, and demanded I be extradited to France to go on trial for the murder of Fleur Delacour; the distaff heiress of one of the ruling Veela families. I am of course innocent, and everyone with any sense would agree given the information we have.
However the French do not have this information due to the communications blackout between the English and French ministries, and they are convinced of my guilt. As such they have boycotted trade routes into England and are attempting a blockade in retaliation for what they see as the British government harbouring a fugitive."
He could see the same question in everyone's eyes; why not just go to the hearing?
"Hermione and I came to the conclusion that it is unlikely I would ever return from France should I go there, either due to permanent incarceration or execution. Why? Because there's no way the weight of a British teenager, no matter my fame, would ever hold up in magical France against the political pull of the five royal families of the French Veela.
I would be charged, and punished for a crime I did not commit, and would be unable to participate in the conflict here. I'll be happy to set them straight when this war is over, but for now I can't go anywhere, and that's just how it has to be. Dumbledore saw differently and tried to forcefully take me from the castle to France. As for why you are here, you are the First Regiment of Hogwarts; you're titled thusly and were charged to defend its halls.
However, you're also human beings, with the ability to make your minds up for yourselves, and you did, you realized that I would be where the fighting is thickest, and that to defend Hogwarts you'd have to fight abroad from her grounds. Maybe you just like my orders more than Dumbledore's. Either way you're here because you chose to be, and I couldn't be more thankful, or proud."
Wry grins and outright smiles lit up on most of the Regiment. And after a heartbeat every single one of them snapped to salute. The Regimental salute had been something of a surprise for Harry; the Regimentals had gotten together and hammered out a short sharp, snappy salute that they could use in formal situations. The gesture was a simple snapping of the feet together with one arm brought up in front of them parallel to the ground, elbow held at ninety degrees and fist clenched.
En masse it looked militaristic and formal and it sang to the very 'boyish' part of Harry that liked the idea of military tradition and all that came with it.
"At ease, we'll be here a while and you need to all go and find rooms. Oh, as for where we are, welcome to Potter Manor; we're on sixty acres of Welsh farmland and forest here with about six acres for the house and gardens. We've a pool out the back for when things get hotter and there's a nice running track through the forest for exercising. We'll meet in the foyer here at six sharp tomorrow for training. Any questions just call for a Potter elf, take your time to familiarize yourself with their names now while they're here and they should be able to point you in the right direction if you get lost.
Finally, op sec. We're safe here from the order of the Phoenix and even Dumbledore can't get in here if I don't want him to. The ward lines at the edge of the property are very clear and you should have no problem spotting them, ensure that you don't cross over them for any reason if you want to remain here. That said I'm not holding you here, you're free to return to the castle at any time, though you'll not be welcome back. None of us will be able to trust someone after that.
For now that's probably enough, we'll debrief further in the morning, dismissed!"
-:-
Hermione stayed silent while Harry addressed the regiment, she was still digesting what had happened; Dumbledore had ostensibly tried to kidnap Harry, they had fled the castle and were now at Potter manor, they had left the castle behind.
Hermione had left a message for Hedwig addressed to this property, the owl would pick up the letter on her own and courier it here such was the familiar's talent. Crookshanks was of course already out of his travelling basket and snooping around the manor.
Oh the manor; the beauty of the place had stunned Hermione speechless when first she had seen it, and had it been a more casual visit she imagined that she would be similarly rooted in place with awe. The floors were typically either hardwood or stone depending on the floor and the walls were covered in frescos and paintings of exquisite quality and the sheer amount of wealth on display was astounding.
Harry was a staggeringly rich individual, or would be one day, and this house was a hallmark of the Potter's incredible affluence. Indeed it was the symbol of the combined thousand years of Potter heritage and, while the manor had been rebuilt several times, the latest construction of the building was over two hundred years old. Any muggle building of the same pedigree would be falling apart at the seams without constant maintenance but this one was in perfect condition. She suspected that between the elves and the magic used in its construction Harry wouldn't have to pay a Knut restoring the beautiful structure, nor would any of his great grandchildren.
That was not to say that Hermione did not have her gripes with the place. For a start everything was proportioned with the Potter genes in mind; door handles were a few centimetres higher than she was used to, the stairs were steeper and deeper than was average, and many of the chairs were just a bit too high for her to comfortably sit on. It was as if the manor had been made for giants to sit in comfortably and, looking at Harry's height at only fifteen, she couldn't say she disagreed with the notion.
In all likelihood the pair would pick one of the smaller properties to live in permanently, neither she nor Harry had particularly opulent tastes and she was certain one of them would go crazy one day and renovate the entire place out of frustration with how many times Hermione had nearly skinned her knuckles on a doorknob or stubbed her toe on a stair.
She wrapped her arm around Harry's waist and snuggled against his side. It would be nice to be able to be able to snuggle the crook of his neck but she honestly couldn't reach comfortably. He'd have to lean down to accommodate her. As it was he slid an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close against his chest before kissing the top of her head affectionately. His voice, now soft and smooth like chocolate, came muffled through her hair.
"We need to warn Sirius."
She nodded absently into his chest; too affected by his musk to do anything else. In times of stress or conflict Harry's natural musk seemed to ramp up several levels of sexiness. Like a pheromone designed to incapacitate women much in the same way a Veela incapacitated those who threatened her with her allure.
Or maybe it was just designed to get her knickers off, she'd never rightly know.
Either way she had to make an effort to focus on him and after a moment simply merged their minds together to let his naturally calm mind collect her and keep her steady and away from her teenage hormones. A stream of thoughts from his side of their incomplete merging nudged her and she heard his voice go through her loud and clear.
"Do you want to head up to the room and unpack us? We're going to be here a while. I'll call Sirius in the meantime and I'll meet you at Padma's room in five minutes to see how she is?"
She sent back an affirmation before disengaging physically from him and heading to their room. The master suite was, fortunately, not too far from the entranceway. She suspected one of the former Potter wives had been a practical sort and arranged many of the essential rooms in fair proximity to each other inside the enormous building.
The structure was shaped like a cross with one axis much longer than the other and the intersection placed centrally between them. The arms of the longer axis curved towards the front of the building in a blocky crescent. Overall the effect was similarly shaped to a drawn bow with a nocked arrow when viewed from above. The shorter axis of the manor stretched north to south and housed the foyer and the dining and meeting rooms as well as the ballroom towards the back of the building. The west wing housed the guest wings and the kitchens, the far end of the wing contained the enormous library of the Potter holdings. The east wing housed the family suites, offices and recreation rooms. Below the five storied building were three levels of cellars each decreasing in size but increasing in value of possessions; the first level housed the pantries and wines and was accessed via the kitchen. The second layer housed the personal Potter vaults. While much of the family's wealth was stored in Gringotts a sizable portion was kept in the private vaults beneath the manor, accessed via the master suite on the first floor the staircase to the vaults was hidden behind a bookcase (clichéd to be sure) and passed through four floors, but only stopped at two.
Finally in the third level of the cellars, and accessed via the library that spanned all five floors of the upper structure, was the Potter archives. The library above was meant for research and the documentation of nature and magic, recreational books were expected to be personal and below, in the archives, were the annals of the Potter lords. Thousands and thousands of journals and records kept by lords, ladies, and even elves and servants of the Potter household. It was the most priceless treasure of the Manor and one that was most jealously guarded, for it contained a thousand years of memories, history, and priceless magical knowledge.
Accessible only by blood members of the household access to the Archives would normally be granted to heirs of the house or other deserving blood relatives by the lord of the estate. However Harry personally had no idea of the archives, and though Hermione knew of them, she could neither tell Harry nor access them herself.
When he came of age she would be able to tell him about them just as she would be able to tell him about his mother's journal, but Hermione herself wouldn't be able to access the archives until she had become pregnant one of Harry's children. The magic was fickle about such things; while currently she was closer to Harry than many wives could ever hope to be to their husbands, she was not related by blood to any of the Potters. However, when she had added to the Potter line permanently herself with the offspring of one of the Potter men, then she would be technically be related by blood to Harry, although only up and down some generations.
The connection would never be a legal one and she would always be his spouse, something she was rather looking forward to in fact, regardless it would be enough for the magic of the place and she would be free to peruse to her heart's content. She had frowned upon the practise upon reading of it in Lily's journal. It seemed such a silly restriction, though a logical one upon further thought. Regardless it seemed like an awkward incentive to get knocked up. It was perhaps fortunate that she would truly cherish any children she had with Harry, they would never be means to an end for her.
There it was again; she returned time and time again to the thought of having a family with the wonderful man who she shared her mind with. She was sixteen for crying out loud, far too young to be thinking along such lines. Shaking her head in equal parts amusement and annoyance she continued towards the master suite.
To her further mixed annoyance and amusement the Elves had already unpacked everything for them; even their books already filled the numerous bookshelves in the master suite of the Manor. Much in the same way that the Library was purposefully for research purposes, the private bookshelves of the various rooms and suites within the manor were specifically for personal tomes and each new inhabitant of a room was expected to fill the bookshelves with their own books and journals.
When a member of the family passed on the books in the shelves would either go into the archives; should they be records of life, business or magic, the Library; should they be tomes of information or discourse, or the bookshelves in the recreational rooms of the manor should they be novels or poetry. The elves regularly curated the books in such rooms to ensure that particularly mature content was kept in one of the vaults until an of age member of the house requested such a book.
As Hermione backtracked towards the guest suites where Padma would be staying she reflected on another facet of the manor that would eventually drive her bonkers; elven efficiency. Everything was done before she could get her hands on it, books organised, pictures straightened, clothes washed or laid out for the day, dishes cleaned and meals cooked; though that was Harry's area of expertise.
Hermione was, though never would she admit it, a creature of control. She desired to have things in an order she had set forth and if she didn't attend to something personally she couldn't be sure it was done right. It was why Harry was the leader in their relationship, he knew how to delegate, how to give other people tasks and trust them to be done well. She would go absolutely mad trusting people to do all the things Harry asked of them.
In domestic life she was sure that even though Harry was the one more likely to be content to stay at home she'd probably gravitate to it. If only to ensure that everything that needed to be done was done, and done well.
Many times she had wondered if she would end up a housewife simply because of that driving personality trait, she had no answers yet, and probably wouldn't until they had left school and started working. Somehow she suspected Harry would do what he did best: uplift her and give her the opportunity to seek her goals. That could simply mean him giving her memories of him doing everything around the house so that she didn't go spare.
Harry's consciousness wafted through her mind like a cool breeze, setting her mind to rights and brushing away her errant thoughts. Right Padma, thanking Harry again for his ability to help her focus and not ramble she picked up her steps and let her feet carry her to their squad mate, and friend.
-:-
The raven haired young man couldn't help but grin; Hermione was overthinking things again. She always would, it was a part of her that Harry knew well; the driving need to think about everything at once and not set anything down for later.
She soon arrived at the door where he was waiting for her and they headed inside their friend's room.
The meeting with Sirius had gone well; he had understood why they had fled and had supported not only the decision but also the ramifications and had promised not to give Albus any information.
They had chatted briefly but they both had things to be getting on with; Sirius was prepping for a raid on a potential ex Death Eater safe house. Who knew what was still in those obscure buildings.
As the two teens entered the room they were fixed with a baleful glare from their squad mate, though the rebuke was not what they were expecting.
"You had this amazing house and you NEVER TOLD ME ABOUT IT?"
Harry couldn't help but laugh as he handed Hermione into the chair next to Padma's bed while he stood behind it. His bond mate answered the accusation.
"Well to be honest neither of us thinks about it much. If it had come up we probably would have told you."
The Indian girl harrumphed as petulantly as Harry thought anyone could manage and kept her face straight for several seconds before it broke into a look of concern.
"Are you okay Harry?"
He understood, she wasn't asking about his physical health; anyone could see that he was fine. She wasn't asking about the betrayal of Dumbledore as many of the Regiment had seen it coming; rather she was asking how he was feeling about abandoning Hogwarts in such a time of strife. He didn't have a good answer for her.
"I'm not sure Padma; I don't think it's sunk in yet. When it does you'll be one of the first to know though, okay?"
She nodded firmly at him after holding his gaze for a moment. While they didn't have the friendship he had had with Fleur Delacour, Padma was more like a normal friendship than Harry thought he had ever had. She didn't put up with his shit, but at the same time she was aware of when he didn't want to be pushed, or needed someone to check on him. They laughed together and he was sure they would cry together if anything happened that warranted the response. But it was totally platonic, like siblings.
He was glad to have her in his life, a friend.
-:-
The two teens stayed a while longer with their third before heading back to the master suite. Hermione had closed herself off from Harry, probably unconsciously as she focused particularly hard on whatever mental bone she was chewing. He wasn't worried, she'd tell him in time, but he did feel somewhat lonely as they walked along hand in hand. It was a weird feeling.
He attributed it to the fact that Hermione and he were in almost constant effortless mental communication, requests, statements, queries, discussions, all of it flowed between them like water ninety nine percent of the time. But in rare moments like these when one unconsciously retreated into a train of thought it often left the other feeling very alone.
It was at times like this that Harry could not help but focus on his love. It was probably a natural psychological reaction to being separated from her that his attention and thoughts would be focused on her while they were separated.
He remembered vividly the first time they had communicated via their minds. It had been a scary experience, feeling so open and vulnerable, and it had been incredibly tiring. But as time went on and the two lovers became closer and closer that feeling of vulnerability became one of comfort and safety; what once was a void, has suddenly become a bustling hub of affectionate communication. They had quickly found that it was impossible to hide casual thoughts from one another. Passing attraction to other people had initially been something of a trial for them; Hermione would notice one of the seventh years' sculpted chests, or Harry would be caught staring at a particularly shapely ass.
Either way both of them had learned to shrug off the passing attractions that they felt for other people, especially when those attractions more and more frequently became comparisons between the object of their attention and the lover in their mind. That sculpted chest might not be quite as lean as Harry's, or that ass might be too hard and muscular, not at all like Hermione's firm but not 'hard' posterior.
It became a defence mechanism for them at the start to retreat into themselves when they were jealous or embarrassed; many times Hermione had caught Harry staring at her breasts or ass and, caught, Harry had retreated back into himself and tried to avoid contact while he calmed down. They had also learned things about each other that they may never have done so before: Harry for instance was incredibly possessive of Hermione, whenever he saw another boy looking at her in a lustful manner his mental hackles would rise and magic would hum along the surface of his body, even while he remained perfectly calm on the surface.
It was something Hermione might never have picked up on if they had not bonded but, armed with awareness she gave no hint of acknowledgement to the people who gave her lustful stares and simply turned her attention to Harry instead, reminding him that she was his to hold and love.
Similarly Hermione was incredibly insecure; not classically beautiful, or particularly busty she often found herself feeling dejected at the sight of other more beautiful or generously endowed women and would retreat from contact with Harry out of self-pity.
Harry of course would have none of that and would shower her with tiny bit of attention and affection that let her know that he only had eyes for one girl in any meaningful sense.
Fleur of course had been the big issue between them. Not ever openly, but Hermione had always resented the beautiful, elegant and exotic Veela for her friendship with Harry. There had been a period of time the previous year when Hermione had genuinely feared for her relationship with him and Harry had been blind to it until she had collapsed into his arms sobbing her heart out.
Since then Harry had become almost supernaturally aware of Hermione's thoughts and emotions, even given their bond. And had perfected the art of giving absolutely no attention to the bodies of other girls and had been able to master the art of platonic touching. He privately loathed himself for making her that frightened and worried for their relationship and vowed to never let things get that bad again.
That was another reason why he felt so alone and vaguely lost when Hermione retreated into herself like this. He had forged part of himself around her and ensuring that she never felt the need to fear for their bond, the inability to continue that part of himself felt like something had been torn from him, however briefly the connection might have been paused.
-:-
Hermione intense focus on the next couple of days was shattered abruptly when she realized that she hadn't heard a thing from Harry in minutes and she instantly dropped the unconscious walls around her mind and let her lover back in. Much in the same way that Harry had forged part of himself around her, she had done so for him. While Hermione's fear was of rejection and loneliness, Harry's fear was of inadequacy and failure. More so even then that, the deeper set fears were that she would develop disdain for him and lose respect for him not only as her partner, but as a man.
Harry's childhood rarely reared its head anymore but Harry still doubted himself and his ability to be a man from time to time. Being degraded and beaten as a child had really battered at his ability to have confidence in himself and maintain self-respect. Being obviated from her mind was like her smacking him in the face and telling him he wasn't good enough to see her thoughts. It was irrational and daft but she had no idea how to clear his mind of the self-degrading thoughts that she knew rattled through his mind.
The truth was that Hermione couldn't have more respect for him in any way shape or form. He had given himself to her utterly and without reserve, moulded himself into a man that anyone who mattered to them could be proud of and was a true leader; one who did so through example and mutual respect for his underlings paired with a strong moral compass and a burning drive to achieve not just success, but perfection.
He was not above reproach; he was jealous and possessive, stubborn and slow to forgive, but no one was perfect, and his flaws were not insurmountable to their relationship, typically they never even caused trouble. At the end of the day though one thing shone above all others that, provided it did not change, would encourage Hermione to respect him regardless of any flaw or character detraction anyone could think of.
And that was his selflessness; time and time again Harry had shown that he was capable of giving of himself to protect others, giving of his time, his wealth, his freedom, even she was sure if it came to it, his life. Fleeing from this trial was the right thing to do, but she could see how it chafed with him. If he didn't have so many obligations in Britain, and her to be with, she was sure he would submit to their judgement just to have trade opened back up between the two countries, no matter the consequences to himself.
Frankly it was a good thing he had her, because she was sure that without her he'd do something stupid eventually after someone less noble manipulated his selfless nature into giving up something too precious for him to lose.
They reached the master suite again and they disrobed together, often helping one another out of articles of clothing until they were both naked in the moonlight. She often stared at him in such low lighting and marvelled at the way his skin, so pale from the Scottish weather, almost shone like silver in the low light.
She allowed her hands to trail over his muscles as he swept her into his arms and carried her to the massive oversized bed.
With one smooth stride he stepped up onto the bed and laid her down in the middle, lowering himself atop her as he did so, covering her petite body with his own larger frame. They were level and she stared into his eyes unblinkingly for several seconds as an intense wash of emotions rolled from his side of the bond to her; his love, adoration, devotion, and no small amount of passion. Tenderly she reached up and cupped his jaw, revelling as she always did in the feeling of his stubble under her hand. Softly, and with only the moon as their witness, they both whispered into the darkness as they held one another, hoping the moon would never tell of their words.
And she never did.
-:-
At the far end of the residential wing of the Manor and occupying the ground floor of the farthest reach of the building was a small chapel. It had seen many religions over the last fifteen hundred years or so between the various sects of Christianity that had adorned its halls and the few Wizarding religions that had sprouted up over the millennia. In the time of Harry's father, and grandfather for that matter, it was adorned with the simple trappings of a nameless Christian doctrine.
There were no symbols to tie the building to the Baptists or the Catholics, the Protestants or the Anglicans; it was a simple building, for simple faith and it was perfect for Harry.
Some time ago Hermione and her family had introduced him to the idea of religion, of faith, and though it hadn't initially stuck, the concept had grown on him and eventually it had become something of a lifeline for Harry when things were looking particularly grim.
News had come with the dawn that Valmortis and his guard had apparated from their path, apparently even though Dumbledore wished for Harry to be in France on trial he was not so foolish as to cut off their lines of communication. They were ultimately still on the same side and it would have been foolish for the ancient wizard to deny the regiment access to much needed information. If it were just Harry and Hermione that had ran maybe Dumbledore would have severed their lines of communication but with the entire Regiment there denying the information would have removed a much larger resource from the battles to come.
Regardless they now knew that Valmortis had recovered sufficient power to apparate what they assumed was long distance to where the forces of 'light' estimated Riddle manor to be. This meant that in the next few days it's likely that there would be another assault. Voldemort's forces had been halted at every turn; terror strikes had failed, outright battles had been lost, armies had been wiped out. He needed a decisive victory, no matter how small, to encourage the darker elements of Europe to join him.
And it needed to be fast. Word from agents across the channel suggested that the French Veela were mobilising an insertion unit intended to take Harry forcibly from England. If the Veela arrived and found a war going on the whole of Europe would rise up to forcibly stomp on what was left of Voldemort and have the British owe them a favour. Despite the magical community's relative isolation on the British Isles the British magicals still to this day yielded the highest number of wizards per million muggles worldwide, and the number of magicals capable of powerful spellcasting was nearly four times as great as other magical communities.
Whatever it was about Britain that encouraged such numbers also meant that in any sizable worldwide conflict having British magical forces was vital because of their numbers and raw power; the purebloods in England might still have power, but the vast number of muggleborns born in the country meant that there were plenty of people willing to travel abroad and find high paid work elsewhere. Being responsible for saving Britain from a magical dark age would be a feather in the cap of any nation who managed to achieve the feat.
Because of all this Voldemort wouldn't be able to risk waiting for the Europeans to make their move, he'd have to strike quickly to gain support in the darker European countries to gather enough troops to hold off a concentrated attack from outside Britain's borders, not to mention the threats to his power from within.
It was a personal frustration to Harry as he knelt before the altar in the Potter manor chapel that they couldn't simply send out an SOS to greater Europe, not only would the European magical powers gain unprecedented leverage over Britain it was also communicably impossible on an official level. They would have to struggle through this alone, and hope they could deal with Voldemort before the Veela discovered the war going on in the country and all hell broke loose.
Sighing Harry prayed again for patience from the nebulous power he still wasn't quite sure about.
-:-
Training had gone as normal that day, if somewhat more intense; somehow being out of the castle made everything more real for the Regiment. Threats were internal as well as external now and no one could trust anyone but the people they took their meals and shared a room with. Many relationships had sprung up between squad mates in the Regiment and, while Harry wasn't sure of the effects it would have on each squad, he wasn't about to forbid his friends from having relationships with one another when he slept with his second in command.
Hermione had hypothesised that they would see an uncommon number of three way relationships spring up, casual ones to be sure, but for the mixed gender squads it was possible that they would want to bond even closer than normal, and it wasn't even uncommon in wizarding culture for there to be multiple partner relationships, though usually it was multiple females and a single male due to the patriarchal society the customs had spawned in.
With all the relationships popping up Harry had authorised the sharing of rooms inside the manor and had declared a blanket dismissal from duty after eight in the evenings for recreational purposes. The whole Regiment had been incredibly tense after the Battle of the Bridge and with several of the Regimentals still bedridden with injury the need to forge relationships both romantic and platonic had surged to the fore between the members.
It was an almost fascinating phenomenon to see the previously very loyal but nuclear squads burgeoning into battle groups of three squads who all shared close friendships with one another. While each squad still existed separately as a unit they also interacted with two or three other squads in a casual and friendly environment that Harry couldn't help but be proud of.
Furthermore as the Regiment settled into its new living quarters, so too did they settle into much more complex training scenarios; firefights against simulated death eaters, close quarters battle with various undead and dark creatures. Even a few banishing rituals that were discovered in the Potter library were practised by the more academically inclined squads.
The largest shock though had come when Harry and Hermione had explored the building the elves referred to as 'The Garage'
-:-
Opening the roller doors with a grunt Harry was immediately struck dumb by the sight in front of him. He didn't have a huge amount of experience with muggle ordinance but what was squatting in front of him like an angry troll was clearly a tank. Hermione, who had a viewpoint to the side, also noted fairly a fairly expansive armoury at the back of the structure. Someone in Harry's history, probably his grandfather, had been an avid collector of World War Two British arms and, apparently, armour.
The guns were barely serviceable but it raised an interesting conjecture; what exactly would happen if you fired a bullet at a wizard with a shield up?
They had shut the roller doors for the time being after promising each other to have a look later and floo called Sirius asking for some rather unique equipment.
-:-
The next day several muggle firearms cases were brought to the garage by Potter elves, presumably from Number Twelve Grimmauld Place in London and once they were opened Harry, Hermione, Fred and George sat staring dumbly at eighty muggle weapons. Thirty nine millimetre L9A1 pistols, thirty L1A1 Self Loading Rifles, ten L110A2 Minimi Light Machineguns and ten L118A1 Sniper Rifles with ten magazines worth of ammunition per weapon with two actual magazines apiece.
It was an intimidating array of muggle firepower and not to be taken lightly, also not to be taken lightly was the task given to the two tricksters of Hogwarts: 'Find a way to conjure ammunition for these weapons en masse."
The final thing that had come in the requisition order was a case containing service manuals for a handful of world war two era tanks that shared a resemblance to the vehicle they had stashed away. Harry and Hermione very much doubted they'd get a chance to use the imposing vehicle in combat but after having tossed a few spells at it they'd found it almost impervious to anything they could throw with a wand. Harry personally suspected the tank was enchanted up to its rivets but he had no way of proving it. The vehicle would be an imposing and practically unstoppable weapon if they could get it to a battle, but there were few places they could deploy such a weapon without it instantly alerting the muggles to their presence and it would be obviously useless indoors.
-:-
While the Weasley twins got to work duplicating and conjuring rifle and pistol rounds the rest of the Regiment was training hard, they wouldn't to fire the muggle weapons until Harry and Hermione had a firing range ready but they were learning to clean and service their weapons both mundanely and with magic. It was a slow process made more difficult by the trial and error process needed to actually handle the weapons and Harry quickly realized that they were getting nowhere. A week after they had arrived at the Manor he finally admitted to his soul mate the thing they both already knew.
"We need to get dad in on this."
-:-
AN3: I told you the French reaction would be relevant eventually. I did tell you that right?
I'm not even going to apologize for how late this chapter is, I think it's clear by this point that my update schedule is borked and the chapters are just going to be late, sorry.
I'm sorry for the overly expansive description of the manor… I literally could not resist. Everyone who has a 'Potter Manor' always seems to do it differently in their story and this was the design that I found most striking. I'd link a picture but hates that kind of thing. Also… Clearly I've finally made a decision on whether muggle weapons will be used by the Regiment.
AN4: I was asked recently why I named the Regiment the Regiment, instead of the Battalion, the Company, the Legion, or some other something suitable. A variety of reasons come to mind, but I think it's best explained by Wikipedia, while not always completely accurate Wikipedia is still a good source of general information and if you wish to get a better idea of why I did what I did you should look at Wikipedia's page on regiments. Tldr: A group of men (and women) under the command of a single leader with the express benefits of increased morale and loyalty to the Regiment itself, rather than an overall organization. It seemed ideal.
AN5: Review Responses:
Lupinesence: Thank you very much.
Jkarr: Too bad indeed, the end is not yet clear however
Shadow Dragon: Ah yes, I guess it was more of a lime, /shrug, don't count Fleur out of this story just yet. She definitely won't be getting together with Harry, for obvious reasons, but her character isn't completely gone.
Vegasman: The best kind of answers.
Anotherboarduser: Thanks! And um, yeah I guess I did miss a few things in the explanation. I'm not gonna lie, getting everything I want to down about how these undead operate is challenging when I'm constantly redesigning some of the finer points. It's a habit I get into and it's frustrating.
Noble: At least it's not a super cliffy like what I left the end of chapter sixteen of the first instalment, that was just cruel.
Beyondthesea: Trust me, I'm looking forward to writing that encounter as much as you are to reading it. I have the outline ready to go but the details are still up in the air. And yeah the Umbridge/Morgana thing is a recent change to the plot, and by recent I mean six months ago. Her character was initially going to go in a completely different direction but here we are lol.
Talonwalker: Quite welcome, and thank you for your review. I'm sorry this took so long to produce.
So much up in the air right now; The Veela, Valmortis, Voldemort, (Lots of V's apparently) Dumbledore's two faced behaviour, the muggle stuff, will the injured squad mates be ready for battle come the next engagement? Will I shoehorn the tank into a battle because awesome? Epine's nature and how much free will she has, the European mercs that could spring the whole thing wide open, maybe even break the statute of secrecy? I'm eager to see how my mind wants this to all play out. While I had the first instalment, and most of this one planned along with certain key events such as the ending, much of the rest of the series is still up in the air and the journey to getting to a lot of it is still very much in flux. Like, these muggle weapons were literally only decided last night, and they're going to make big changes to the plot.
Tune in next time for Chapter Fifteen: Captain where the Grangers come out of hiding and the purebloods get a rude wakeup call and crash course in the dangers of Muggles. As always thanks for Reading and other Shenanigans. See you next time!
LGreymark