Many thanks go to brianna-xox, fredfred and Otium for betaing. They improved the story a lot.

Chapter 5: Reinforcements

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, May 6th, 2001

When HMS Hood had heard Hermione needed to run a few experiments with her, she had expected to be on the sea, demonstrating her guns, and her speed, and her armour. She hadn't expected to sit on a chair or stand around for hours, only moving when told to while the witch was waving her wand around and casting spell after spell, in between dictating notes to a self-writing quill.

"Harry and Ron already tested me," she said, frowning.

Hermione sighed. "While I love the two dearly, they are not - boffins, you'd say."

"And you are?" Hood peered at the girl. She didn't look like a scientist. No lab coat, even. But she certainly acted like some of the scientists Hood faintly remembered.

"I'm the closest to a boffin you'll find in Wizarding Britain." The girl sounded both sad and proud at the same time. And angry, though Hood couldn't tell what made her angry. Apart from the mystery of her existence, and Hermione's continued lack of understanding thereof. The witch's mutterings had made that clear.

"But you ran tests yesterday. So, why aren't we out on the sea now?" In her natural element. Even water beds - marvelous as they were - were a pale imitation of real sailing.

"Because those tests revealed that you have an obvious dual nature, and my theory is that it depends on whether or not you're acting like a ship, or a girl. After I finish my tests here, we'll head to a secluded spot on the coast, and repeat the tests with you in your 'rigging', as you call it."

Hood blinked. It sounded as if the girl had found a way to make sailing less comfortable! "Shouldn't we work on finding ways to sink the Bismarck instead?"

"That's part of what we are doing." Hermione held up a 12.7×81mm 50-calibre bullet, one of Hood's Vickers. "This has been created like the shells the Bismarck fired at London."

"I'm not like her!" Hood stood up, glaring at the witch. To be compared to such… to that Nazi abomination!

"You're more alike than you think," Hermione said. "You both represent the 'spirits' of a sunk warship. You both can walk on water, and use magic to reproduce the firepower of the sunk ships. And you both fight in similar ways."

"She's a Nazi monster! I'm a ship of the Royal Navy!"

"Yes." Hermione took another note.

Hood craned her neck, but from her angle she couldn't read it. "And you know all my weaknesses!" Her weak deck armour, her lack of a real refit… it had been humiliating to list that.

"No, we know the weaknesses of the battlecruiser you were. Not the weaknesses of the being you are now." Hermione looked at her. "We need to know if there are magical ways to hurt you. Spells, potions, enchanted weapons."

"A big gun will hurt me!" Hood said.

"Maybe even a handgun will hurt you - if it's enchanted correctly."

Hood scoffed. "I won't even feel that. In fact, I didn't feel your magic sling." She grinned.

The witch frowned. "That wasn't a magic sling, but a spell. A Banishing Charm, to be precise."

Hood shrugged. "You shot a rock at me, it bounced off. Looks like a sling to me." Hermione scowled. That was a hit! "Nor did your 'Piercing Curse' hurt me." They hadn't tested a 'Blasting Curse', yet.

The girl cleared her throat. "You said you were called. That means someone, or something called you. We need to find out how this happened, so we can duplicate it."

Hood understood that. She needed a fleet to sink the Bismarck, especially if the Nazi battleship had escorts. Or, worse, more capital ships. "Good." And it would be very nice to have… well, she never had a sistership, but she had friends. After the dinner with Ron's family, she had realised just how much she missed having friends around. A family.

"No, it's not good. I'm not making any progress there. Other than something rather worrying." Hermione seemed to hesitated a second, then sighed. "You said you identified two of the escorts you fought."

Hood nodded. "Yes. Two Type 1934 Destroyers. Max Schultz and Leberecht Maas. I sunk Leberecht Maas," she added, proudly.

"I looked them up. Both were sunk with most or all of their crew." Hermione kept looking at her.

Hood met her gaze. "Like I was. And Bismarck."

"Yes." Hermione sighed. "It might be coincidence, of course. You didn't recognise the light cruisers, after all."

She scoffed. "Those were crewed by amateurs or fools. They would never have made the cut in the Royal Navy. Their captains should have been court-martialed."

"But you didn't recognise the design."

Hood shook her head, her ponytail whipping around. "No, I didn't. Were they built after I sank?"

"No. The Kriegsmarine didn't build any light cruisers during the war. They only built the Emden, Königsberg, Karlsruhe, Köln, Leipzig and Nürnberg."

"Oh." Hood didn't understand that. "Maybe they were captured ships. Definitely light cruisers though."

"Maybe." Hermione didn't look convinced. "In any case, it is obviously possible to call more of those ships. So, it should be possible to call more of your type of shipgirl. We just have to find out how."

From the look in the witch's eyes, Hood could tell that this would be a long day.

London, City of Westminster, May 6th, 2001

"This is excellent, Ron. Do you eat here often?"

Ron Weasley smiled at his father. "Not that often. It was a favourite of Hermione's parents and she took us here a few times."

"Ah." The older Weasley nodded and took another bite from his entrecôte.

"How are the muggles handling the current crisis?" Ron asked mostly to break the silence - he expected that he'd have been informed if there was anything important happening, since he and his friends were still ready to transport Hood should she be needed.

"They're sticking to their story of a terrorist attack, and also claim that another attack was prevented yesterday." With a shrug, the older wizard added: "I don't know how plausible it is - the Prime Minister seemed less than convinced that the reporters would believe it."

Another minute passed until Ron's dad spoke again: "Harry's at the Ministry."

Ron nodded. "He's keeping an eye on Dawlish, and the reports from the pickets near Azkaban."

"And Hermione is examining Hood while you are keeping an eye on the muggles through me."

"That's the gist of it." Ron shrugged. He had a cellphone to keep in contact with the muggle military as well, but his father knew that.

The older wizard sighed. "Ron… you don't have to fight this battle alone. You are not alone."

Ron frowned, and fought down the sudden burst of anger that rose inside him. "Old habits die hard." With a scoff he added: "It's not as if things changed much. Bloody Ministry's still useless. And there's no one else. Like usual."

He couldn't keep the scorn out of his voice.

His father pressed his lips together and took a deep breath. "We worry about you."

Ron knew he should let the matter drop, but he couldn't. "Like you 'worried' in our sixth year, when you did all you could to keep us from fighting Voldemort? You almost lost us the war!"

"We didn't know, Ron."

"You didn't want to listen. Not to a few children. You all thought you knew better. Despite Dumbledore's notes." Ron wasn't eating anymore. "We had to do everything alone. Malfoy Manor. Gringotts. Nott. No one but Sirius helped us there." He scoffed. "You even believed that we just wanted to avenge Dumbledore."

"We didn't believe that!" His dad was raising his voice now as well.

"The Order did! We heard McGonagall talk to Kingsley when we were hiding from the Aurors."

"If she had believed that, she'd have informed the Aurors that you had been the ones to kill Lucius." The older wizard sighed and closed his eyes. "Merlin! You just told us that the Dark Lord wasn't dead, and that you had a secret mission from Dumbledore. And then you started killing. Or so it looked to us," he added, before Ron could tell him that they had searched for the Horcruxes. "And why would Dumbledore have given such a mission to a group of children, instead of to the Order? It didn't make sense, Ron!"

"We couldn't tell you about it! The risk of someone leaking the information was too great." Ron snorted. "Something you should have been familiar with from the last war."

"We had no traitor in our ranks this time."

"You don't need a traitor. You just need a prisoner and some Veritaserum. Or torture." That was how they had found out how to get into the home of Nott.

Ron's dad sighed, but but didn't contest that.

"And if the Order had killed a few Death Eaters earlier, maybe more of you would have survived when you finally started fighting," Ron said, and immediately regretted it. "Sorry."

Arthur nodded, slowly, but didn't say anything. There hadn't been many members left. McGonagall, Flitwick, and the Weasleys had been the only survivors when Kingsley had disbanded it after the Ministry had been retaken. And Ron was convinced the Weasleys had just survived because the entrance they had been holding hadn't been attacked by the main force of the Death Eaters, but the vampires and werewolves. A diversion, Harry had called it. Something else no one ever mentioned at a family gathering.

The two resumed eating, and stayed silent for a few minutes. Then Arthur tried again. "Ron… it's different this time. No one is doubting you. We want to help you. Even the Ministry is doing what they can."

Ron scoffed. "They can't do much. Early warnings is about the best they can do. And they hate us. Or why do you think Rita Skeeter gets away with her lies and slander?"

"I don't think that's the reason, Ron. Three people living together like you are… people are not used to that kind of arrangement."

He glared at his father. "How we live is no one's business but our own! We're happy, and that's all that counts!"

His dad hesitated, then said: "But are you really happy?"

Ron closed his eyes so he'd not lose his temper. "Dad, it works for us. This is not just a 'war thing', as Mum put it. It started when we were on the run from everyone, yes, but wouldn't you expect us to have broken up by now, if that had been all it was?"

"I'm not certain you ever returned from the war, Ron," his dad said so softly, Ron almost didn't hear it.

They spent the rest of the meal in silence.

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, May 6th, 2001

"Alright, we're done with the tests. Thank you for being so patient." Hermione Granger smiled at Hood. She was quite certain that the battlecruiser had hated every minute of the tests - at least those that had required her to stay still. "It'll take a while until I have the results though."

"Don't mention it. I know how important this is." The battlecruiser nodded at the witch, but did leave rather quickly.

Hermione kept her smile up until the door had closed behind Hood, then sighed. While it was true that she wouldn't have the final results until she would have finished analysing the data in detail, the preliminary results were rather conclusive.

She pressed her lips together while she looked at her notes. While she still didn't know how exactly Hood had been created, or 'called', as the ship described the experience, everything she had tested pointed at a necromantic ritual as the source. Soul magic.

Hermione was more than passingly familiar with this field of magic - she had studied it in depth to create the ritual they had used to seal Voldemort's shade. She had researched death and souls extensively.

And Hood's existence was tightly linked to a lot of both. Not like a Horcrux. But there were some parallels. Hermione was certain that without a lot of deaths, the ship's spirit, shade, or soul, whatever it was, wouldn't have been formed.

Unfortunately, she didn't know if that meant the Bismarck's spirit would return after sinking once again. Or if the they would be able to seal it. That would require more study.

But she needed to find out how Hood had been called first, before making plans about dealing with the Bismarck. Harry and Ron had mentioned new plans, but she knew them. They didn't think it would be enough. They needed more shipgirls to win in the first place.

Hermione checked her watch. It was past lunchtime. She would get something on the way to her grandmother's house.

A few hours later, the witch was back at Grimmauld Place, poring over the finally deciphered notes of Alois Fickleton. Unfortunately, the Seer's writings were not as clear or precise as she had hoped. And they were extensive. Very extensive. The man rambled over pages and pages of notes, going into details of spells any student learned these days in their N.E.W.T. year. But she had found the crucial passage:

'There will appear an enemy, full of rage for past grievances against them and theirs. They will rain down fire and destruction on the Ministry from the air and from afar, their attacks so mighty, many muggles will be killed just for being nearby - just as they have been killed before. Normal means will be useless against this foe reborn from death and dark magic.

Such I was told as having said. As having seen. Such I have studied. An enemy, impervious to our magic. Commanding the air. Able to lay waste to both wizard and muggle buildings. A danger unlike any we have seen so far - and yet familiar. Reborn. The conclusion is clear, though the solution remains elusive. Without being able to study this enemy in detail, I will not be able to prepare a spell to deal with them. Not usually, at least.

But I am not just a Seer, but also the Head Unspeakable. An unknown danger can be dealt with, if I approach the problem from a different angle. A different concept, even.'

Hermione eagerly read ahead, skimming pages of speculation and arithmantic calculations until she reached the notes detailing the spell that Fickleton had inscribed on that stone she had found. This was what she had been looking for. This would… She blinked, then cursed. Loudly.

"I've found the spell the Unspeakable used to call Hood," Hermione announced during dinner. "But we can't use it as it was cast."

"Why?" Ron frowned. "You just said it called Hood."

Hermione sighed. "It did. But Fickleton didn't create a spell to summon a battlecruiser in the form of a girl. He created a spell to summon an enemy of the enemy he had 'seen'." She snorted. "So, his spell reacted to and needed the Bismarck to be attacking." She scoffed. "He didn't even know that it would be a shipgirl. He thought it would be a dragon, undead or resurrected. Incidentally, he didn't seem trust his own spell that much either - he's the reason we have no dragon reserves in Britain anymore."

"So… how long until you have his spell adapted to work as we need it?" Ron's tone and smile left no doubt that he was certain of her success.

Hermione smiled, tiredly. "I'll do my best, but I'll have to focus the spell on shipgirls, and I'll have to find a way to make it work without having an enemy present." She didn't mention the other conditions. The need for a ship to have sunk with many of its crew. The necromantic aspects. She didn't know how Hood would take that. But she knew Harry would react - he would blame himself for destroying the Resurrection Stone, should he know the ritual would involve souls.

No, she would keep quiet about this. And do her best. As usual.

London, Ministry of Magic, May 6th, 2001

Repair work on the building was continuing rapidly, Harry Potter noted when he walked through the atrium. Not that he had expected anything else - the damage it had taken when they had stormed it after the Battle of Hogwarts had been repaired in less than a day. The physical damage, at least - the deaths hadn't stopped hurting. They had found Percy lying in a pool of blood, his lungs rotted away, in the Floo Network Authority's offices, where he had opened the connections for them. There hadn't been much quarter granted to anyone following that. And Ron had been a wreck for weeks, afterwards. Harry sighed - he and Hermione had comforted their friend. But sometimes he wondered if they should have retreated to Grimmauld Place, instead of back to Hogwarts, where the rest of the Weasleys had been.

When he waited for the lift he noted to his surprise that Aubrey Fawley chose to wait next to him. Usually, Harry and Ron had a lift to themselves. He let his wand slip into his hand. Just in case.

"Dreadful business, this attack," the older wizard said while the doors opened.

"Yes." Harry glanced at the man.

"Kingsley dead… I couldn't believe it." Fawley shook his head. "Everyone thought he'd stay Minister for a few more years, at least."

The political shuffling had started, Harry realised. He had expected that many would not want to step forward and campaign for the post, not in the middle of the current crisis. The Ministry under attack, the Statute threatened - those were not the kind of things a Minister would want to deal with at the start of their first term. Or at any other time. Unless of course they wouldn't have much of a chance to get elected in normal times. He nodded. "I'm certain we'll have a new minister soon," he said. "I doubt that Selwyn would want to stay acting Minister for much longer."

"Precisely!" Fawley said, beaming. "But picking the next Minister is a delicate affair. It has to be someone who can lead us in this crisis. Someone with the full support of everyone in the Ministry."

"It should be someone who can work closely with the muggle Minister," Harry said. "This crisis cannot be stopped by the Ministry alone. Without muggles, the last attack couldn't have been stopped."

"The last attack?" Fawley asked with wide eyes.

"Yes, there was another attack yesterday morning. It was stopped before it reached London, though." Harry smiled. "So, it's imperative that the new Minister is well-versed with muggle customs."

The lift reached the floor of the Auror offices before Fawley recovered enough to continue their discussion.

Harry had barely entered the offices when one of the new Aurors informed him that Dawlish wanted to talk to him as soon as possible. He still checked his mail and memos before he went to the Head Auror's office.

Dawlish didn't comment on his late arrival. "There you are, Potter. Have a seat."

Harry nodded and sat down.

"I've read your report about the battle yesterday. Two of those creatures killed. The other three driven off. And a horde of Inferi destroyed. Good work."

Harry shrugged. "We failed to destroy the main threat. They'll be back."

"They're still on Azkaban. We're keeping an eye on them."

"That's a dangerous and difficult mission."

Dawlish waved his hand. "They stay out of range, and simply observe. A bit more uncomfortable than a normal stakeout."

Harry didn't think that scouting an enemy in a war was comparable to staking out a criminal's hideout, but didn't think it was worth starting a dispute. He'd check with the Corps later, to see how the pickets were organised.

Dawlish pulled out a parchment and handed it to him. "The team examining the remains from the first attack has raised the possibility that this was done by holdouts from Grindelwald. Possibly Prussian muggleborns who escaped after his defeat with the help of muggles."

Harry laughed out loud. "Really?" He shook his head. "Didn't they listen to Hermione? Grindelwald wasn't involved with the Nazis. No, we're still investigating, but it looks like this is the work of surviving Death Eaters."

"What?" Dawlish bared his teeth. "The Death Eaters are gone. There's no one left!"

"There were several left, on Azkaban." Harry smiled briefly.

"Have you any proof for this… theory? Or is this some ploy to discredit Macmillan?" Dawlish narrowed his eyes.

"Macmillan's running for Minister?" Harry scoffed. "Bloody idiot." He shrugged. "No, we don't have proof yet. But we're working on it." They couldn't tell anyone that Voldemort's shade was kept in a crystal in the Department of Mysteries because his soul could not pass over. Much less how they had achieved that. That kind of magic was highly illegal. And very dangerous.

Dawlish didn't look convinced, but nodded. "See that you do."

"We're focusing on stopping the threat. We can examine the remains afterwards." Harry grinned. "We need those pickets to stay sharp too, so we know when the enemy's moving again."

"They'll do their job. Do you need anything else?"

He shook his head. "Not at the moment, no." It was up to Hermione to crack that spell. Or craft it. Like in the war. She had cast the sealing spell twice - once to deal with the soul shard in his scar, and once when Voldemort had walked into their trap at Hogwarts. Or rather, had been lured into it. In hindsight, that had been a far too dangerous plan, but they had been desperate at that point. He stood up. "I'll be going then."

He was on the way to the Floo connections in the atrium when he heard his name being called out.

"Harry!"

He turned around, wand slipping into his hand, tense, before he recognised the voice.

"Luna?"

The blonde witch beamed at him while she crossed the atrium. "Yes."

"I thought you were still tracking the Jackalope in America."

She shook her head, sending her ponytail swishing around. "How could I track an animal that will still be there for years when Britain is experiencing an invasion by spirits? I had to return so I could study them before you destroy them!"

"Ah…" Harry was at a loss for words. Luna wanted to study those monsters? That would be far too dangerous! But how to explain it...

"And I wanted to meet the exorcist you have found!"

"The what?" Harry's train of thoughts was getting derailed.

"I heard that you have a blonde witch as a guest, and she isn't me. Which means she had to be important for the invasion. Otherwise you'd not have taken her to your home, much less let her stay. And since we're being attacked by spirits, the most plausible explanation is that she's an exorcist!"

Harry stared at his friend. Hermione would… well, she'd act annoyed, but she liked Luna. Or she'd have never agreed to let her have a guest room at Grimmauld Place. "Let's talk about this at Grimmauld Place. Incidentally, do you know anything about magical ships?"

Luna blinked. "Is Britain under attack by the Flying Dutchman? Do you plan to steal the Ship of Durmstrang to fight it?"

Harry winced. He should have never told Luna about Gringotts.

Thames Estuary, Britain, May 6th, 2001

HMS Hood was happy. After all those tests, hours spent either standing still or following rather unorthodox orders while Hermione waved her wand around and muttered incomprehensibly or took notes, she was finally back on the open sea. Or at least as open as the Thames Estuary. But she could sail! And what a joy was it, to sail, with her hull as pristine as if she had just been built, and all of her systems working perfectly!

She smiled widely while she took a tight turn, leaving a wake behind her. Her directors tracked the aeroplanes in the sky as well - purely as an exercise. Not that any were in range of her 4-inchers. The only flying contact in range was Ron, who was flying behind her on his broom. Just in case she needed to be deployed somewhere else.

Which was not impossible, given magic. If the Bismarck could use magic to repair herself, or if some of those 'Death Eaters' were repairing her… She frowned. If her nemesis had that kind of support, she would not have sailed, but been apparated right into the middle of London!

Hood took a deep breath. Sooner or later she'd have to face the Nazi battleship again. And the two surviving escorts. And whatever other ships that monster managed to procure. As if she wasn't powerful enough by herself!

She wished the Royal Navy was with her. The Navy she knew. Her comrades in arms. Not this gutted Royal Navy of the twenty-first century. That had discarded so many of the ships who had sailed with her, sent them to the scrapyard as if they were rubbish! And so many had sunk during the war. Reading those histories had been painful.

She closed her eyes. She knew she was not fair. Almost childish even. Times had changed. The age of the battleship had passed long ago - shortly after her sinking, to be exact. And the Royal Navy had adapted, just as it had adapted to the end of the age of sail. Still… she couldn't help feeling that this wasn't her Navy. And not just because she was now a girl as well as a ship.

No, she couldn't even mingle with them because most of them were not allowed to know about her. You could not belong to a Navy like that.

"Is something wrong?" Ron asked suddenly, surprising her.

She hadn't noticed he was closing in. Sloppy! She turned around to face him. "No, I'm just… missing my comrades. The ships I knew." My family, she added, silently.

"Oh." Ron nodded slowly. He was sitting up on his broom, one hand on the handle.

It looked very uncomfortable to Hood, but magic probably took care of that. Magic could do a lot, Hood knew. But it couldn't beat the Bismarck.

"You miss them."

"Yes."

"I understand." The wizard sighed. "There are a lot of people I miss. The dead, and the… well, distant."

Hood turned and started to slow down, circling around him while she came to a stop. She knew about missing the dead - all too well. But… "The distant?"

He shrugged. "We're not as close to our families as we were, before the war. You probably have noticed during dinner that the mood was a bit strained at times."

She hadn't, actually. Compared to some captain's dinners, the mood had been very familial. She nodded anyway. It seemed the thing to do.

He sighed. "We've changed, and they don't like it." He shook his head. "They'll come around. At least my family. Hermione's though… they already have trouble dealing with magic. Dealing with us and our relationship…" He sighed again, louder.

"Ah." Hood was not quite certain what the family was objecting to - times had changed in that area as well, as she had found out when she had read a few magazines.

Before she could decide if she should ask for a more in-depth explanation, her radar picked up two contacts approaching her. She turned around, and her 4-inchers swiveled to target them. "Two brooms flying towards us," she informed Ron, as soon as she had visual confirmation.

"Two brooms? Must be important if Hermione's flying that far out." Ron straightened.

It wasn't Hermione. Unless she had dyed and straightened her hair. And dyed her robe. The other broom rider was Harry, so Hood relaxed a bit.

"Luna?"

"Hi Ron!" the other witch yelled, waving so wildly, Hood feared she might slide off her broom into the water.

Swimming in those robes would be hard. Unless there was magic to help, Hood thought.

"Hi Miss Hood! I'm Luna Lovegood! I'm so excited to meet you! You're the first spirit I can interview - the ones in America vanished when I saw them, for some reason! Do you remember how you were born? And what made you take this form? Were you in love with your captain, and wished to be a girl? Or were you cursed by a jealous mermaid, hoping to banish you to forever to the shores?"

The battlecruiser blinked. She saw Harry smile and shrug to Ron, who was smiling and shaking his head.

"Hood, meet Luna. One of our closest friends."

Hood turned her attention back to the witch, who was poking with her wand at the battlecruiser's rigging. "Oh… are those crewed? Maybe with tiny spirits? Or are they alive? Or is it a part of you, controlled like an extra appendage? Or is this your true form, and the body we see is just an illusion?"

Luna, Hood decided right then and there, certainly was not one of the 'distant' Ron had talked about.

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, May 6th, 2001

"... and have you ever heard of Nargles? Those are tiny invisible animals, kind of like your crew, if you had one, I mean."

Ron Weasley smiled to himself when he left Hood and Luna in the living room of the house. It was good to see the blonde witch again - of all their friends and family, she was the only one who had never judged them, no matter what they had done - killing, lying, living together. She had been one of the few they had been able to trust in their sixth year.

"Is Hermione still at the Ministry?" Harry asked as Ron was passing the kitchen.

"Yes." He stopped and entered. His friend was making pasta. "She wanted to do some research in the Unspeakables' Library, after she had poked and prodded Hood for much of the day."

"She hasn't copied that one yet?"

Ron sighed. "Some of the enchantments are giving her trouble. And with all the rest…" He shook his head. Some of the Unspeakables had taken their knowledge into the grave… or into the Veil, in the case of some. Those experiments with muggles and muggleborns... "Should I go and fetch her before she forgets the time?"

Harry briefly stopped cutting the vegetables. "I don't think so. She'll come home to examine or experiment on Hood, at least."

Both men chuckled. "Hood will probably be relieved. Luna's interviewing her at the moment," Ron said.

"More like interrogating her." Harry laughed. "She already interrogated me."

"Well, she always does that after returning from one of her trips." Luna was spending a lot of time in foreign countries. And she usually stayed at Grimmauld Place when she was in Britain. He doubted Luna had spent more than a few months in total at the Rook. After her father had been killed by the Lestranges, she hadn't had anyone left, and Ron knew how she hated to be alone.

"She cut this one short, once she heard about Hood," Harry said. "She's agreed not to publish anything until we've cleared it though."

"Good." Ron doubted that the Bismarck read The Quibbler, but other dark wizards did. "How are the muggles reacting to the battles?"

"Well, the newspapers are all over the place with their editorials and reports. The massive rocket bombardment couldn't be covered up, and everyone is speculating what they fired at. The government just said that there was a classified operation, but that only fueled the rumours." Harry pointed at a stack of muggle newspapers. "I bought one of every one. For our library."

Ron eyed the stacked paper, and shook his head. "As long as they don't suspect magic…"

"Some do, but no one is taking them seriously."

For a moment, Ron felt some sympathy for those people. To be correct, but nobody of consequence believing you… he and his friends had been there. Then he remembered what would probably happen if magic was revealed. Hermione had thought a lot about that. She had said so, and neither Harry nor Ron had ever asked her about it, but Ron was certain that she had been pondering how best to reveal magic. Back after the war, when Wizarding Britain had not wanted to forget it had ever happened. The witch had come to the conclusion that revealing magic would cost a lot of lives, for various reasons. He didn't doubt her reasoning.

Ron checked his watch. "If she's not here at six I'll fetch her." He had worked up an appetite trailing Hood. "Until then, I'll make certain that Luna doesn't drive Hood mad. The girl's still not used to being human, after all."

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, May 7th, 2001

Hermione Granger stared at her notes, which filled an enlarged parchment that covered the biggest table in the Black Library. She had to solve this. Everyone depended on her. Somewhere in the North Sea, maybe on Azkaban, was the Bismarck, possessed by Voldemort's soul fragment, preparing to attack Britain again. She was probably creating more monsters already. Hood alone wouldn't be able to stop her. The wizards were not enough - Harry and Ron's efforts had proved that. They needed help. More shipgirls. But she didn't know how to call or create more of them.

It was not as bad as back in the war though, when she had been under similar pressure. Not as hopeless. And not as questionable. She shuddered, remembering when she had touched Voldemort's soul while sealing it. She knew the price for the dark arts, and would never follow in his footsteps. Not for anyone.

"Hermione!"

She jerked, almost ruining the word she was writing, and turned her head. "Is the Bismarck attacking again?" she asked.

Her friend blinked. "No, I don't think so."

Hermione relaxed some, and checked the clock. It wasn't time for dinner, yet.

"What are you doing?" Luna peered at her notes, her long hair almost but not quite brushing over the parchment.

"I'm trying to reverse-engineer the spell that created Hood." Hermione pointed at the centre part. "Unfortunately, the spell that was triggered was prepared by a Seer, and the notes are rather vague. The spell was dependent on several conditions been met. Recreating the exact circumstances, much less the runes used are nigh-impossible. So, I've been working from the other end."

"There's a lot of death there," Luna said, twisting a strand of of her hair around her left index. She didn't say it with even a hint of the disapproval or concern that, in Hermione's opinion, many others would have shown.

The witch took a deep breath. "I'm certain that the spell needs that to work. Hood was sunk with all but three of her crew. 1418 men died with her. There's a lot of power in that many deaths. But I don't understand how that power was used." Using past deaths for magic instead of sacrifices was not possible, according to her research. Many wizards had tried. Though none of them had used sunken warships. "I've recreated the part that gives a ship a human form." That had been easy, comparatively. Advanced Transfiguration - Conjuration, in this case. "Even the rigging, in theory. But the spark, the soul that turns it from animated matter into a creature, a shipgirl… It has to be tied to the dead crew. But I don't know how. I'm not certain that anyone knows." With the possible exception of the Bismarck. Creating life like this was the stuff of legends. All the magically created species had had living animals or humans as a base.

"Did you try asking the dead?" Luna cocked her head sideways.

"Asking?" Hermione wondered if Luna knew about the Resurrection Stone. "I doubt even the Seer who cast the original spell knew what he was doing. I do not think the human crew would have known."

"They say ghosts are the results of wizards or witches being too afraid of dying. I'm not quite certain. Binns doesn't seem as if he had been afraid of dying. I think he just wanted to keep teaching. Many dead would like to return. Finish what they left. Help those who remain." Luna smiled. "Asking them nicely might do the trick."

Hermione blinked. It was absurd. You couldn't ask the dead. But… the Hood had said she had been called back. Returned to do her duty. She had been sunk trying to protect Britain. Her crew had died with the same mission. Then, after decades, the Bismarck had returned, in a warped, different form, but still the battleship they had fought… When she had attacked, a spell had been triggered that had depended on Wizarding Britain needing help against an enemy as well. That had called Hood. This spell was the key. If Hermione tweaked that, implemented this aspect… Her eyes widened when she realised what was missing.

"Thank you, Luna!" she said while she hugged the girl.

"It was my pleasure," Luna said, smiling serenely.

Hermione was already rushing to the back of the library. She now knew what she had to do! She only hoped she would have enough time left.

North Cape, Norway, May 8th, 2001

Bismarck smiled as she slowly came to a stop in the middle of the ocean. She had arrived. Here, beneath the waves of the Barents Sea, was the resting place of the ship she had traveled so far north to call. She was like her little sister, and had suffered a fate just like her own. Sent out to hunt merchant ships, she had been separated from her escorts, and hunted down by superior forces. Fighting against all odds, she had been sunk, together with almost all of her crew.

Her most recent additions, Friedrich Eckoldt and Z26, were circling around her. The two destroyers had found their end in these waters as well, and were still adjusting to having been returned to serve. They were eager though - Friedrich Eckoldt had been sunk without even fighting back, completely surprised when the ship she had thought was a German cruiser had turned out to be the HMS Sheffield.

They were not as eager as Blücher, the heavy cruiser on her left flank. She had been sunk by outdated coastal artillery in her very first battle. To erase that shame and humiliation, the cruiser would do anything, Bismarck knew. The battleship had had to use force to keep the girl from attacking Norway right after she had been raised, and the ship had been restless ever since.

The three destroyers she had brought from Narvik, Erich Giese, Wilhelm Heidkamp and

Anton Schmitt, were more disciplined. All three were guarding the fuel Bismarck had brought with her. Not all of the ships she had hoped to find had been able to return. Some had been broken up, scrapped. Nothing for the souls of the dead to hold on to but the spirit of the ship. If there had been such souls in the first place - many ships had been beached or scuttled, the crew escaping as the ships were destroyed. Those needed fuel to be called back, and even then, they would be weaker than the others.

Not as weak as Narcissa though, Bismarck knew that thanks to Friedrich Eckoldt. The destroyer had been beached in the Battle of Narvik. Her crew had escaped to fight on land while she had been destroyed. She was eager, if a bit clumsy, but by no means as inexperienced as Narcissa and Alecto had been after they had been created. Although that could have been due to the fuel used to form her - the sacrifices had been muggles, but they had been sailors at least. Comrades of the fishermen still huddled together in the lifeboat towed by Erich Giese. Or it might have been because her wreck had not been scrapped. More experimentation was needed, Bismarck knew that. Fortunately, there was no shortage of subjects for such experiments - there were many ships who had been scrapped, and there were many muggles to use.

This ship here wouldn't be weak though, or require such fuel. 1932 men had died here, in the icy waters. Bismarck could feel their souls crying out for vengeance. And vengeance she'd grant them. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply, and reached out to her kin. Down deep, she felt the ship stirr. Wake. Become aware. And rise from her grave.

Soon, a head broke the surface in front of her, followed by a pale body. Shorter than hers, not as curvy either, but hard and lean. Cold eyes met hers.

Bismarck smiled. "Welcome back, Scharnhorst."