A/N: Thanks so much to stella8h8chang for the beta-read of this chapter -- the "non-magical persons illegally carrying wands" was her idea. There are huge portions of the first section that are not beta'd, however, due to some last minute changes that I made. I think I've picked through this portion myself enough times; if I've missed anything, please let me know. I'd also like to give a quick shout-out to Dr. Shanty--their last review inspired the ending of this chapter. Thanks!


Chapter 12: Power and Control

The harsh plink of heavy rain hit the glass panels of the front of the shop. Long streams of water rolled down the clear surface.

Daphne kept her forehead pressed against the cool window of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, but it did nothing to soothe or calm the rising waves of emotions that she had been feeling for a while. She held a book, The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore, closed shut, her finger marking the page where she had last left off.

She had Side-Along Apparated with Arthur Weasley into Diagon Alley four days following the coup. It had started raining as soon as they had arrived, the drops falling harder than normal, and only a few bodies roamed around the streets. Witches and wizards ran for cover, throwing Impervius Charms over them or simply seeking shelter. Walking close to Arthur under the large bubble of an Impervius Charm, she had noticed that several more stores had been boarded up or bore traces of Alarm Shields around their storefronts. Presently, it seemed to Daphne that the coup was doing nothing for the businesses in Diagon Alley.

She had also watched as witches and wizards walked with their wands at the ready, striding purposefully toward their destinations, avoiding any contact or conversation.

(It is raining, after all.)

(But that's never stopped us before!)

Daphne had noticed a larger-than-normal number of witches and wizards scurrying into the dank recess that was Knockturn Alley. She was reminded of large sewer rats, running along gutters filled with running water, seeking scraps of food and other sundry bits of refuse.

She had also noticed a sudden increase in black, green and silver clothing around her, even among the sparse crowd that barely filled the street. It was as if every person who had ever belonged in Slytherin House or had even the remotest relationship to Slytherin House had crawled out of the woodwork.

It appeared that Molly Weasley's instincts had been correct; Slytherin seemed to be king. Daphne gave a very silent thank you and vowed to do something nice for Molly; the older woman had stayed up the better part of the night before, sewing the Slytherin shield onto a few black and green shirts and jumpers that she owned.

Arthur and Daphne had approached the shop after slogging through the street. He had to stay for a couple of minutes to discuss a few matters with the twins. But Daphne needed to ask him something first.

"Um, Arthur?" Daphne had started, a little awkwardly and timidly.

He gave her a worried look. "Daphne, what is it?"

"I- . . . I sort of, um. . . . Could you do me a favor? Please?"

"Certainly. Just ask me."

Daphne let out a small breath of air. "I wrote a-a letter to someone. And I . . . um, would you be able to send it from the Ministry?

"Why of course! Who is it for?"

"Michael Corner." She handed the parchment to him. "I didn't put anything that's, I don't know . . . questionable or anything that would get anyone in trouble. You can read it if you need to." She shrugged. "I just need to know if he's okay."

Arthur smiled at Daphne, but it was with a hint of sadness. "Absolutely. That's perfectly understandable." He did a quick scan, simply to make sure everything was in order, and he looked back up, smiling and nodding. "It is good, and I'll send it off straightaway." He rolled up the parchment and stuffed it in his robes, just as Fred and George came down from their flat above the shop to greet him.

That had been four . . . maybe five hours ago. Now, Daphne stood behind the window of the shop, her head leaning against the surface. She watched as the world seemed to drown under the grey skies and dark deluge. Her lip twitched upwards, but she wasn't smiling. Every so often, the only sound she could hear beyond the thunder and rain was her own shaking breath.

Until about fifteen minutes ago, when Fred started tinkering around with their wireless.

Inside the shop, she could hear the crackling of static as Fred twisted the dial, trying to get a clear signal. Suddenly, newly-empowered Minister of Magic Pius Thicknesse's deep and loud voice bellowed forth from the device—

"—Let us all remember the bravery of Rufus Scrimgeour, who courageously faced down the Mudbloods that entered his office, that struck him down despite his final stand against them!"

Daphne turned around slowly. "Really? They're going with that story? Scrimgeour was killed by Muggle-borns?"

Fred snorted. "Better than saying he was killed by the current Minister of Magic and his Death Eater cronies, isn't it?" His voice was filled with sarcasm.

"—Mudbloods shall no longer take what is not rightfully theirs! I shall urge all my listeners to inform us if you have information about Mudbloods near you. Do not approach them. Do not touch them. They may try to take your wand! CALL THE AUTHORITIES IMMEDIATELY!"

Daphne shivered. "Turn that crap off. It's disturbing and cruel."

"Won't get any arguments from me there, Greengrass." With a flick of his wand, Fred shut the wireless off.

The shop now silent, Daphne's ears picked up another sound; something was belching and gagging. Looking at Fred's black shirt, she saw a huge, wriggling "S" in green and silver and a banner with "I 'heart' Slytherin" just underneath it. All around the symbol, little snakes were burping up hearts and flowers.

She shook her head. "You wore that shirt yesterday."

Fred nodded. "Good memory on ya, Greengrass!"

"Isn't that pandering? The twins don't pander."

"Ah!" He wiggled his finger at Daphne. "It's not pandering if we wear our 'Slytherin Tribute' shirts all for the sweetest snake currently in our employ!" He clasped his hands together and batted his eyes.

Daphne gave Fred a flat look. "Thanks, I . . . think." She pointed at him as she started to walk back to the counter. "You know that shirt'll have to be washed at some point. Pretty soon, you're gonna start smelling like the arse crack of a mountain troll."

"Had some experience with a troll's backside, then?" George interrupted, grinning at her. He walked to the front of the shop wearing the exact same shirt as Fred.

Daphne threw her fiercest glare at them. "You've . . ." she paused, figuring out a decent comeback, "got . . . the . . . headofatrollsbackside." It came out as an awkward mumble. Fred and George smirked at each other.

George turned back to look at Daphne and the book she was holding caught his attention. He pointed at it. "Is our favorite employee—"

"Your only employee," she said, raising an eyebrow to George's smirking face.

"—Actually reading something?" He moseyed up to Daphne and tried to get a peek at the book.

"Er . . . I just picked up that wretched 'biography'," she bent her fingers like quotation marks next to her head, "that that Skeeter bint wrote about Dumbledore."

George wrinkled his nose at her, clearly disgusted with the book himself. "Why the hell didja buy it?"

Daphne shrugged. "I was curious."

"You do realize that a portion of the Galleons you wasted on that piece of rubbish goes to her, right? So, basically, you're telling her that it's okay to make a profit on a pile of shit!"

Daphne looked at the tome sheepishly. "Er . . . I hadn't thought—"

George shook his head, his red hair grazing the hole on the side of his head where he had lost his ear. "Well, if we run out of toilet paper, at least we've got something we can use."

He winked at Daphne as she threw a rag at him.

The sound of a belch and fart heralded that the shop's front door had opened. All three heads snapped towards the front . . . and all three let out a relieved breath when Arthur Weasley strode through the shop to meet them at the counter. The air around him shimmered with water drops as they touched the bubble of his Impervius Charm. He lifted the protective spell off of him.

"Dad," Fred said, with a reassured nod. Arthur shook both of his sons' hands.

"Have you three been holding up all right?" He made eye contact with Fred, George and Daphne, and she couldn't help but notice Arthur's slightly dazed appearance. He was also breathing a bit too quick to be normal. The three of them looked at each other with quizzical expressions.

George was the first to talk. "Nothing's happened so far today. You're the first person to walk in here. Is there something—"

"Good." Arthur spoke brusquely. "Daphne, I sent your letter off. And," Arthur pulled out a sealed parchment that had been rolled up, "this came for you today. Express owl."

Daphne's heart gave a leap upon seeing her name written out in that strong, slanted cursive that she knew so very well.

She knew exactly who had written that letter.

"Michael." She smiled as she took it. However, there was far too much happening in front of Daphne for her to open it at that moment; she would save the letter for later when she could fully and completely enjoy it.

"Thanks so much, Arthur." She gave him a grateful bow.

"And I also brought these." Arthur reached into his robes, and pulled out a set of documents, as well as what looked like three cards.

Fred's brow furrowed as he picked up one of the cards, which had a picture of him grinning and winking. "What's this all about?"

Arthur quickly locked the door from the inside and cast a Privacy Charm around the interior of the shop. "These are identification cards, similar to ones we have as Ministry employees." Arthur shrugged off his robes. "The Ministry is about to implement a new decree, stating that all witches and wizards must register their blood status with the Ministry."

Fred, George and Daphne looked at Arthur with total disgust. "Register?" George hissed. "What the hell does 'register' mean?"

Arthur pulled up a chair to the counter. "The Ministry's going to start interrogating Muggle-borns. The decree was approved the night of the coup."

Daphne looked at Arthur with a troubled expression. "Why aren't they announcing it now?"

As if to answer her question, he pulled out the latest issue of the Daily Prophet.

"Front page."

The twins surrounded Daphne on either side, and all three converged upon the article, hissing and swearing at its contents.

"They can't! Dad . . . I mean," Fred, for once, was at a loss for words, and no joke seemed to be able to come to his lips. "how? The Muggle-born population is small, but not insignificant."

Arthur's face grew even more serious. "They've already started conducting 'interviews' with Muggle-borns." He shook his head. "They're using the so-called 'element of surprise'." Arthur snorted in disgust. "They've already gotten to twelve families — they've interrogated and tortured them, and had their houses razed to the ground or burned down. Miraculously, I don't believe they've killed anyone. Yet."

Daphne and the twins looked at each other, the silence between them thick and heavy with meaning.

"This was the same night as Bill and Fleur's wedding?" George asked. "Did they do this while they burned down Dedaleus Diggle's home? Or while they were torturing Tonks' family?" There was a bitter, vicious tone to George's voice that Daphne had never heard before from the twin.

Arthur nodded.

"Were we even able to do anything? Help anyone?" Fred asked after a few moments.

"Kingsley and Tonks are working with other Order-affiliated Aurors and members to see if we can get them out of Azkaban—"

"Those bastards are holding Muggle-borns in Azkaban?! On what grounds?"

Arthur looked at Fred and spoke somberly. "On the grounds that they're Muggle-borns, son."

Fred gave an angry, guttural growl. "I don't believe it! How can they—"

"They're charging them as 'non-magical persons illegally carrying wands'." Arthur shook his head. "It's inhuman what they've been able to do over the last couple of days. The laws they've created and changed—"

"It's because they're the ones in power, right?' Daphne said quietly. "They can do whatever they want." She looked at Arthur, who nodded.

"You're right," he responded somberly. "The Order still exists, but the Death Eaters are now in control of our entire system. Legal. Political. Everything. That means they've got control of all of our spells and prophecies, and they can make the rules and laws. They're the ones who made You-Know-Who's name Taboo. They're the ones who've marked Harry Potter as 'Undesirable No. 1'. They're the ones that continue to push the idea that he's involved with Dumbledore's death. We can only do so much before we risk our own imprisonment." Arthur looked at his sons and Daphne with a serious demeanor. "I will do whatever it takes to protect all witches and wizards, and to watch out for our family, first and foremost. That means I'll continue to work at the Ministry, and act the part of an obedient employee, but I'll be helping out the Order with information gathering and rescue operations, so long as we," Arthur gestured among the four of them, "can remain off the radar."

"What do you need us to do?" George stepped next to Fred and both brothers stood with their hands on their hips, curled in defiant fists.

Arthur couldn't stop a smile from escaping onto his face. "Well, and mind you, your mother isn't going to like this," he said with a grimace, "but the Order will need you to help with relocation plans and organization." Arthur unfurled a map that had been rolled and folded in order to best be concealed in his robes. "We've secured a few scattered locations with Order-aligned safe-houses. These are old Auror safe-houses that even the Ministry knew nothing about, used by Aurors for various missions and assignments. Kingsley is the lead in this assignment. What we're going to do is route Muggle-borns, Muggles married to a witch or wizard, and Squibs who the Ministry will be targeting for registration, interrogation, or . . . anything else," Arthur's jaw flexed, "to these safe-houses, where they'll wait for papers to be drawn up so they can be transported out of the country for the duration of the war. They can choose to stay as well, but," Arthur sucked in a breath, "it may be a tight fit."

"But they're just going after Muggle-borns right now," Daphne said. "Why would they go after Muggles and Squibs?"

Arthur looked at her somberly. "Why not? Death Eaters and You-Know-Who's followers are trying to keep themselves working within the machine of our legal system and government, but they're also going to be operating outside that same system." Arthur shrugged. "They'll go after anything and anyone that upsets their idea of the 'natural order' of things, that doesn't fit in with their idea of the ideal society for witches and wizards. Muggles that are connected to our world might get caught in the middle of their violence."

Daphne turned her eyes downward.

(Blaise Zabini.)

(Would they do the same thing to a pure-blood wizard who's in love with another wizard?)

Arthur regarded the twins with a grave expression. "We'll need you and your brothers to help with bringing everyone together."

Fred and George looked at each other, grinned with determination, and nodded. "Done and done."

Arthur had a grim smile on his own face. "I don't know how many we'll be able to save, but, hopefully, it'll be enough." Turning to Daphne, he addressed her. "We'll close down the shop for a few days to prepare and secure the safe-houses. You can help Fred and George with any orders that come through the mail."

Daphne was barely listening to him, or barely allowing what he was saying to register. Instead, she turned her card to face Arthur. "How did you get mine? I'm not a Weasley or—"

"Well, all I want to say about that for now is," Arthur winked and smiled at her, "Dumbledore's not the only one with connections."

Daphne looked at him, her brow furrowed and troubled.

"Daphne, your card, this pass, is legal. It's above board, and you shouldn't worry about it." Arthur leaned toward her and motioned with his finger for her. "Besides, consider this a thank you of sorts."

"Huh?" Daphne grunted, clearly confused. "Why would you need to thank me?"

Arthur grinned ruefully at her. "You've deflected a little heat off of the Burrow for the moment. Apparently, Runcorn and Yaxley informed, well, whomever it is that they report to, that we've let you stay with us. And, with you being . . ." Arthur's voice drifted away, but he gestured at the robes she was wearing. Daphne looked down, and realized she had forgotten she had on her robes. Her Slytherin crest was displayed quite prominently on them.

"They're going easier on you because you've got a Slytherin in your house?" Daphne asked him, her voice filled with incredulity.

Arthur shrugged again. "They don't seem to be too concerned about what we're doing at the Burrow ever since it got around that you're staying with us." He looked at her very carefully. "Daphne, believe me, I didn't anticipate this reaction when I told Molly she needed to make sure you were wearing your school robes. My first thought was only that it would keep you safe and that it would stop any unsavory individuals from bothering you."

Daphne stared at Arthur for a few moments . . . and then started chuckling. "I'll be damned! Look, if me advertising my house affiliation makes things easier for you lot, I'll do it." She looked at all three Weasley men. "I'll be the biggest, best damn Slytherin girl you've ever met!"

Arthur laughed and the twins snorted. "Okay," Arthur began, still laughing lightly, "Fred. George. Can the two of you go on and close up the shop? We'll need to start preparing and coordinating the evacuation. We've got to move slowly, though, and not raise or alert anyone as to our activities. We're anticipating this mission could last into the winter, depending on various factors—"

"Sure!" George looked at his brother, "you're stuck with us."

Fred smacked his father on the back and smiled. "Through thick and thin."

Arthur smiled and nodded. "Well, the first thing we need to do is—"

Daphne turned her back on them as they started discussing plans about the safe-houses. She pulled out the letter, anxious to read it.

Handling it more carefully than anything she had ever held in her whole life, Daphne's eyes flew down the page. Her face fell as she read. The tone of the letter was oddly formal for Michael. His humor and penchant for making little sarcastic quips seemed to be non-existent; it felt like Michael hadn't even penned the note.

And then Daphne got to the bottom of the letter and she smiled. And she continued to smile, biting her lip and blushing furiously until she got to his name at the very bottom of the page.

So, she went back up to the top of the letter, taking notice of the date because Michael had sent this missive only yesterday, and that, as much as anything, accounted for the bizarre tone of his message to her.

(He's trying to be careful with what he says.)

(But the boy sure knows how to finish a letter! And how to make a girl feel warm inside!)

She read it once more:

August 4, 1997

Fair Miss Greengrass,

Hello! Well, it's been far too long without any word from you. I wanted to keep the lines of communication open between you and I. I know that I'm an awful letter writer, and you've complained thoroughly about various aspects of my writing. But, I did have someone look over this message to make sure I'm saying everything right and that everything looks good — spelling and grammar and other things, you know!

So, we three are all doing very well. We've been at Tony's for a couple of days now. Terry sends his love. Although you may need to get that checked out by a Healer. I've got no idea where he's been!

And Tony's sitting in the corner glaring at us, well mostly at Terry. He keeps telling Tony that it's going to be his mission this year to make sure he gets some . . . um, a girl this year. That's all I can say about that.

I really hope everything is well where you're at, and the family is okay. We haven't received any news that anything is other than all right. Hopefully, I'll hear from you soon.

Oh, I almost forgot. This note would not be complete without some words that I know you're familiar with. Just so you know: I think these words mean a lot more than anything I could've written in this message. So . . . I leave you with these two passages from your favorite poets—

Hey Jude,

Don't make it bad.

Take a sad song and make it better.

Remember to let her into heart,

And then you can start to make it better.

--

Hey Jude,

Don't let me down.

You have found her, now go and get her.

Remember, to let her into your heart,

Then you can start to make it better.

Yours,

Michael

She was biting her lip now, feeling her chin tremble.

(He is something else, isn't he?)

"Daphne," Arthur addressed the Slytherin girl. Daphne jumped up and turned to face the elder Weasley, making sure to wipe at her face and compose herself. "Are you all right?"

"Y-yeah," She nodded, smiled and held up the letter. "It's from Michael." She continued to smile as she looked back down at it. "He's all right. He wrote this yesterday. He's with some friends of his too." Daphne's voice drifted away as she rubbed the edge of the letter. "They're all safe. Nothing's happened to them."

When she looked back up at Arthur, she saw he was smiling warmly at her. "That is truly good news, Daphne. Truly!"

"It is." Her face fell, remembering why Michael and Terry went to stay with Anthony Goldstein in the first place. "Arthur, Michael and Terry's parents are Muggle-borns—"

"We'll look into it, Daphne. There are a couple of Order members at the Ministry that are smuggling out any and all information about known Muggle-borns currently living in the British Isles and Ireland." Arthur nodded. "We'll make every effort to help them." He smiled at her again, and Daphne felt herself growing a little bit warm with the comforting thought that Michael's parents would hopefully remain safe.

"We're done here." Arthur said after a moment. "Fred and George will close up the shop and I'll go ahead and take you home—"

Daphne suddenly remembered the thoughts she had had earlier, about another friend of hers, one that might actually be nearby. Her friend who was the very image of pure-blood superiority . . . and who was in a relationship with another bloke.

And, suddenly, the need to see him took precedence over anything else. Considering what Arthur had said earlier, about the Ministry going after any wizard that upsets their supposed "natural order", Daphne had to make sure that he was safe.

"Um, Arthur, would it be all right if . . . well, I've got a friend that's staying here in those flats next to Diagon Alley, and I haven't seen him, well, them, since school ended. Would it be possible to try to visit him? Them, I mean? Er . . . p-please?" Daphne asked nervously. She wrung the bottom part of her robes but kept her eyes trained on Arthur.

"We can, Daphne. But we should be quick about it."

Daphne nodded. Arthur cast another Impervius Charm around them and together, they left the shop and walked forth into the continuing deluge.


A/N: Lyrics are from "Hey Jude" by John Lennon and Paul McCartney, written in 1968.