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

Chapter 6: Reunions

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, May 8th, 2001

"We've lost her," Harry Potter said, shaking his head. He was smiling, though, as he looked at Hermione's working room in Grimmauld Place. She had moved what looked like half the books of their library there, and was scribbling notes down while frantically using both a slide ruler and an abacus.

"Oh, yes. Who's on feeding duty?" Ron leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed, and smirked. "I'm with Hood, and she wants to go out."

"I'm expected at the Ministry," Harry countered. "And Hermione will be needing Hood anyway."

"I can feed her!"

Harry turned around and saw that Luna had managed to sneak up on both him and Ron again. He didn't know how she did it - since Malfoy Manor, no one had managed to sneak up on them. He still felt guilty that he hadn't been at Hogsmeade, or maybe Sirius and Remus would still be alive…

"Alright." He smiled at the blonde witch. "But don't just feed her sweets."

Luna laughed. "She won't let me!" Then she scrunched her nose and touched her finger to her lips. "Though it may be good for her - sweets give you lots of energy for studying!"

"Start with sandwiches, please. There are some in the icebox."

"Reminds me of our seventh year," Ron said, still looking at Hermione. "Right after Hogsmeade."

Luna cocked her head sideways. "That was when you found the way to seal Voldemort."

"She found it," Harry said. "I was too busy… " he winced. Sirius and Remus had died in that ambush, and he had felt so guilty for not having been there with them. He and his friends had only arrived at the end of the battle. Just in time to drive the Death Eaters off, but too late to save his godfather and Remus.

Ron nodded. "All of us had been losing hope. Too many had died already, with not much to show for it."

Harry nodded. Not even Luna knew that they had found out about Harry's scar at that time as well.

"Anyway. We were in the living room, moping, and Hermione was in the library. I thought she was just, you know, keeping herself busy to cope, but suddenly she yelled, with glee, and when we found her, she was just like that." Ron waved his arm at the witch who had almost disappeared behind a stack of books. "So… I'll check on Hood. I'll be out on the sea."

"Don't get eaten by a Leviathan!" Luna said.

"Don't worry. Hood would blow the thing away." The redhead grinned, and left.

"I should head to the Ministry," Harry said, sighing.

"Are they still infected with Nargles?"

He snorted. "More like greed and stupidity."

Luna nodded slowly. "Nargles can be dealt with, but greed and stupidity are things not even magic can cure," the blonde said, more seriously than usual, in Harry's opinion.

"Are there any Leviathans near Britain?"

Luna shook her head. "No. The last one was sighted in 1861, near the Orkney Islands. It had probably lost its way, searching for whales. They harpooned it."

Harry didn't comment - his friend shared Hagrid's view of animals. If she hadn't opted to become a naturalist and expert magizoologist, she could have become a teacher at Hogwarts. Though judging by her sneer when she had told Harry and his friends of that offer, she didn't have many good memories of the school. He cleared his throat. "I have to go as well. Dawlish will need an update, or he might do something foolish."

Luna chuckled. "He's like a Nargle preserve!"

London, Ministry of Magic, May 8th, 2001

"What's so funny?" Dawlish glared at Harry.

"I've just remembered something Luna said," Harry Potter said, trying not to image a flock of tiny invisible animals nesting in the Head Auror's hair.

"Lovegood," the wizard muttered. "The complaints we've had about that rag of hers!"

And Harry's amusement was replaced by anger. He didn't mind, much, when people made fun of him, but if they made fun of Luna… that was too much like how her house had treated the witch at Hogwarts. He didn't say anything though - he wasn't here to have a row.

"Anyway," Dawlish continued, apparently unaware of Harry's reaction, "What is the status of your case? The acting Minister's breathing down my neck; she wants results. And Fawley is not much better; the man's not Minister yet, damn it!"

"We're working on a way to kill the creature, but that kind of thing takes some time," Harry said.

"Is that why Granger hasn't been seen much lately?"

Harry shrugged. "She's the expert for that kind of research."

"That kind of research?" Dawlish asked, a hint of a smile on his face - he probably hoped to find some leverage on Harry's friend.

"The kind of research that let us deal with Voldemort, after Dumbledore had failed." Harry grinned when Dawlish scowled. The Ministry might not feel grateful for having been saved from Voldemort, but they certainly were careful of offending those who had defeated the Dark Lord. Even if they had to be reminded of that fact from time to time.

"So, what can I tell the Minister?"

"We're working on it, and we're ready to defend the Ministry until we're ready to counter-attack. Be ready to evacuate the Ministry though, just in case." Harry could tell that Dawlish didn't like hearing that.

"That's about the same I told her yesterday," the Head Auror said.

"Things do not change just because a Minister wants them to. Selwyn should know that, given her past." Harry smiled.

"Have you been talking to Fawley?" Dawlish stared at him.

"Once," Harry said. "He was interested in my opinions on politics."

"I see."

Harry doubted that. But ultimately, what Dawlish believed and spread didn't matter much. Not when they were facing an invasion by a possessed battleship and her fleet.

He really hoped Hermione was making rapid progress. He had a feeling that they didn't have as much time as back in their seventh year.

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, May 8th, 2001

One of the first things HMS Hood had done after she had returned to service - once she had the time to spare, duty came first - had been to read up on the Bismarck's fate. Even turned into a girl - a monster girl in the Nazi ship's case - knowing how she had been sunk the first time should have helped in planning her second sinking. Or so Hood had thought. She had skimmed some of the other books concerning the war Hermione had gathered, but she hadn't studied them. She had focused on the current state of the Royal Navy.

Until now.

So many ships had been sunk after her own defeat. Prince of Wales. Repulse. Barham. Ark Royal. Hermes. Eagle. Over a hundred cruisers and destroyers. But she had expected that - war was terrible.

But the number of ships scrapped after the war was over… Renown. Furious. Queen Elizabeth. Warspite. Valiant. Malaya. Revenge. Royal Sovereign. Resolution. Ramillies. Nelson. Rodney. If she had survived her name would have joined that list, Hood was certain. And even King George V and her surviving sister ships had been scrapped ten years later.

She was the only one left. The last of her generation, and the generation following her.

She sighed, closing the book. It felt like Britain had abandoned its Navy. Turned its back on those who had sacrificed so much for their country. The books said that the country had been too exhausted, too poor to keep the ships, but it still felt like a betrayal. Replacing old ships with new ones was one thing, but reducing the Royal Navy to a third-rate force…

She sighed and closed the book, with a bit more force than was necessary.

Too much, as it turned out, since Ron looked up from the book of naval tactics he had been reading. Both of them were in the living room, after they had returned from the sea.

"Are you alright?" the wizard asked.

"I'm fine," Hood said.

He chuckled. "No, you're not. You're worse than Harry."

She frowned. "What?"

"You're not exactly subtle. Something's eating you."

She saw he was smiling at her, with what looked like a gentle expression. She briefly pondered deflecting the question. Mention the Bismarck. Make him think she was thinking about the next battle. She discarded that notion though - she was a battlecruiser, not some submarine. She sighed again. "I'm the last one left. All the other ships I knew are gone - sunk or scrapped."

"Ah." He nodded, slowly, his smile vanishing. "I know that feeling."

"You do?"

"Harry, Hermione and I are in a similar situation. Too many of our friends died in the war, and we've grown distant to most of the remaining ones."

"You and your friends keep mentioning that war." They didn't go into details though.

"Yes, we do." Ron looked at her.

"Is there a book about it?" Hood knew better than to ask him, but she was still curious about how wizards fought.

He chuckled, but he didn't sound amused. "Skeeter wanted to write a book. Hermione stopped her. She is planning to write one herself - but not yet. And no one else really knows what happened in the war."

"Oh."

He was looking past her, at the wall. Or at his memories. "We lost half our friends in the Battle of Hogsmeade. That was in what would have been our seventh year. We hadn't gone back to Hogwarts - we had begun to fight before the school year had started. Mum had a fit when she found out, but there was nothing she could do - we had prepared for that for months. Harry's godfather, Sirius, financed us. We had a safe house no one knew about, and we had tents prepared as an alternative. And we had a plan. Well, Hermione had one.

"Things went well at the start. We secured a few soul anchors. We caused quite a ruckus, but we didn't care - we knew what we were doing, even if no one but Sirius believed us." He snorted. "But we were starting to realise that we didn't know where the other anchors were. That we wouldn't find all of them in time. And then the Dark Lord returned. The Ministry was not prepared. The fools had thought he was gone for good, and didn't do anything about his followers. The Order was not prepared either - without Dumbledore, they were pretty much a lost cause."

Hood nodded, even though Ron wasn't looking at her and sounded as if he didn't even remember who he was talking to.

"And Voldemort exploited that. He sent a few of his goons to attack Hogsmeade, during a weekend when the students were visiting the village. They were going for the children. They had lists of all the muggleborns." Ron pressed his lips together and closed his eyes. "Aurors responded, trying to stop the massacre."

Hood was horrified. Killing children? That was what Nazis did!

"But Voldemort had wanted that. Half the Aurors responding were his followers. As was their commander. Or he was imperiused - we don't know. He didn't survive." Ron scoffed. "But we know what happened: The traitors struck right when the Order and the teachers arrived to help. Struck many of them and the other Aurors in the back. We - Harry, Hermione and I - arrived just in time to see Sirius and Remus die, back to back. Harry lost it. Charged in screaming. Hermione and I followed him, of course.

"We lucked out - killed their leader right away, which threw them into disarray. The surviving teachers and Aurors rallied, and we pushed them back, through the village. If a number of the Death Eaters hadn't been busy killing kids, they might have beaten us. As it was, we drove them out. We had won - or so we thought. And at a terrible cost." Ron took a deep breath. "Our friends, the older Gryffindors, did what they could to save the younger ones. They were brave, but they were disorganised and not really trained. McGonagall wept when she found them where they had made a stand, in the ruins of Zonko's. Neville had led them, or so we heard. If Ginny hadn't been on a date with some Ravenclaw, she would have been with them - the rest of the Quidditch Team was there."

He shook his head. "The next day, the Minister had to step down. A new one was elected. Another traitor. Voldemort had planned for that. The entire massacre had just been a ploy to get his follower elected. He easily took over the Ministry after that."

He looked at Hood. "But we beat him in the end. And we'll beat him again, this time. Trust me."

Hood nodded. But she couldn't help feeling that their victory would be a very bloody one.

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, May 9th, 2001

Ron tossed and turned in their bed. He shouldn't have had told Hood about Hogsmeade, he thought. It had reminded him of the war. And the other battles and losses. And of the Battle of Hogwarts.

"Here they come!"

Ron heard Seamus yell from the top of the Astronomy Tower, and looked up just in time to see a series of Blasting Curses hit it, sending stone fragments and parts of the Tower's wall down to the courtyard. Seamus was almost blown clear off the roof, but managed to stay on top, using his wand to send spells at the approaching broom riders. Another volley of curses struck the Tower, and Ron saw the walls starting to melt.

"Seamus! Get out!" he yelled, casting curses of his own at the broom riders circling overhead, but it was too late - the weakened walls crumbled, and the entire top third of the Tower started to topple. For an instant, Ron saw Seamus balancing on the remains of the roof, then he vanished in the cloud of dust and smoke thrown up by the first volley. A few seconds later the top of the Tower crashed into the courtyard, cutting off the screams of the half-a-dozen Hufflepuffs who had been stationed there.

Dozens of students were now casting curses into the air. One of the Death Eaters was hit and fell from his broom, but the others evaded the spells and started to climb. Until McGonagall conjured a flock of eagles trailing nets in their claws right above the enemies. Half their number was tangled in the nets before they could react, the others dodged the nets, but two of them flew right into curses cast from below. Then the eagles turned to stone, and the entangled Death Eaters were ripped off their brooms, and smashed into the ground.

"Yes!" Ron yelled. They could do this. They could win.

The gate to the courtyard was blown open, wooden shards shredding two Ravenclaws who had been too close. Through the gap screaming men and women charged, led by a wizard Ron recognised at once: Fenrir Greyback. Tonks's murderer.

Flitwick moved to face the monster, his wand dancing in his hand. Motes of light appeared all around the broken gate, flitting around for a second, then suddenly homing in on the attackers. Where they hit Shield Charms flared and shattered. Greyback was struck by a dozen, and his body seemed to fall apart at the seams, Others were left with bloody gashes and cut limbs, their angry yells turning into screams of pain as they fell to the ground. The Charms teacher flicked his wand, and debris and enemies alike shot up, higher than the walls reached, spinning wildly. Then, with a snarl worse than the sneer of a Gringotts guard, the wizard pointed his wand down, and the whole mass was driven into the ground, shattering on the cobblestones.

Flitwick smiled grimly, and took a step forward, repairing the gate. Ron took heart - they were doing better than expected. Greyback dead, and the courtyard was holding. Maybe…

"You-Know-Who!"

Panicking screams followed as the students looked up and saw Voldemort float above them, without a broom. With a sneer on his inhuman face, the wizard pointed his wand down, and spells started to hit the defenders on the ground and on the walls.

Ron and Harry took cover while Flitwick rushed to protect his charges - exposing himself in the process. The Dark Lord sent Killing Curses at him, but the diminutive teacher dodged, and his own spells flew at the Dark Lord.

That wasn't going according to plan, Ron thought. They had to lure the Dark Lord into the Chamber of Secrets. Flitwick knew that, so why was he engaging Voldemort? "We have to do something!" Ron yelled at Harry. Hermione would be already on the way there - she had been observing the other side of the castle.

"Right!" Harry started casting curses at the Dark Lord, followed by Ron.

Their Piercing Curses were shrugged off by Voldemort's Shield Charm as if they were hexes. Cutting Curses were even less effective. They knew other curses though. Black Curses. Ron cast a Poison Cloud while Harry's Fleshripper was dodged, and the Dark Lord briefly vanished in the yellow cloud. When he emerged smoke was rising from his whole body, and he was mad. A rain of flaming spears descended on the courtyard, and Ron saw Justin get impaled by one. The Hufflepuff screamed as he was pinned to the ground and slowly burned. Flitwick rushed to his side, extinguishing the fire, but the gesture cost him - another spell hit him, collapsed his shield and smashed him into the outer wall with a sickening crack. Justin was hit as well, and part of his side flattened. His screams ended and he didn't move anymore. Flitwick was dead or unconscious, and the defenders fleeing.

It was up to Harry and Ron. They each cast another curse at the Dark Lord, to get his attention, and then rushed through the next door, into Hogwarts proper, as soon as the Dark Lord turned towards them.

Ron glanced back and saw the courtyard was filled with fire. Then he saw the Dark Lord swoop through the wall of flames, coming after them. After Harry.

"He's chasing us!" Ron yelled, running as fast as he could. "We have to hide!"

They ran up the stairs, Harry activating the armor suits lining the hallway. They were barely moving, Ron saw, before Voldemort destroyed them. Second Floor. Myrtle's bathroom.

Ron was panting when he entered the bathroom, his feet splashing water all around while he ran through the puddles on the floor. Harry was opening the entrance, and Ron tackled him, pushing him down the slide with himself on top.

There would be no holding action.

Behind them, curses hit the wall and ceiling. Voldemort was too close. They reached the bottom, rolling over the padded mats they had placed there, then jumped to their feet and ran to the Chamber proper. A few transfigured animals bought them enough time to turn the corner before their enemy reached the ground.

Hermione was in the middle of the Chamber, and Ron gasped when he saw their friend. The witch was bleeding from a gash on her left arm, her right eye was swollen shut, and her clothes rent. "Hermione!"

"I'm fine!" she yelled. "Get into position!"

"Trying to hide in the Chamber of Secrets, Potter? Do you think I'm such a fool as to fall for such a ruse?"

"Come and get me!" Harry yelled back.

Laughter answered him. "Do you expect me to rush into your trap?"

Ron ground his teeth and looked at Hermione. The witch was checking their map on the ground. "He's not yet in range," she whispered.

"I expect you to flee!" Harry yelled back.

Ron glanced at the map. The last gift from Sirius and Remus - an improved Marauder's Map. He could see the feet representing Voldemort slowly float closer, almost touching the line.

"Hidden explosives?" Voldemort laughed. "You planned to collapse the tunnel and bury me alive? Even if that had worked you could not kill me!"

Hermione tapped a coin, then cursed when nothing happened. "He found the charges."

Ron cursed, then glanced at his friend. Harry slipped his Cloak of Invisibility on and mounted his Firebolt.

"Harry!" Hermione yelled. "Don't!"

But Harry was flying towards the Dark Lord already. He had to lure the monster into the Chamber, if their plan was to work. And he was the only one who had a chance of doing it.

Hermione touched the runes surrounding the crystal set in the floor in the centre with her wand, and Ron saw lights dancing over the stone, tracing the designs. It had taken them a week to prepare and mark the Chamber.

He saw spells flash in the corridor, and heard the Dark Lord yell. Harry must have hit him - or angered him. Either would work.

"Will you collapse the tunnel with Potter in it?" The Dark Lord yelled, and more spells flashed. The ground shook even. More spells hit the Chamber proper now - the Dark Lord was closing.

Then Voldemort entered the Chamber, sneering. And Hermione and Ron activated the trap. Ron slit his palm open with a Severing Charm, and let his blood drop onto the runes. Hermione did the same. And Harry probably was bleeding already. Three sacrifices. One crystal.

Voldemort started to scream. They had him.

Ron closed his eyes. They had beaten the Dark Lord once. They would beat him again. It even felt like the days before that battle - the anxious waiting for the enemy to strike while Hermione pushed herself to exhaustion trying to finish the ritual they needed for the trap.

They'd win once again. They could not afford to lose.

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, May 9th, 2001

Hermione Granger closed her eyes and leaned back in her seat. She had pretty much solved the problem. There were a few details left, but she now knew how to call shipgirls. 'Calling' was what she had chosen as the term for this. It wasn't quite Summoning, since they did not exist before the ritual, but neither was it Conjuring - the ritual did not allow her to choose their form, or character. And there had to be a need for them. A need to return for their country.

Once this was over, she would have to discuss the exact category this ritual fell into with McGonagall. The old witch loved discussing Transfiguration theory, and new breakthroughs. Although she would hate that they couldn't write this up and publish it - just as Hermione did. But this knowledge was simply too dangerous. Another Dark Lord using this was just one horrible possibility among many. If someone called up the ships of the Imperial Japanese Navy, no matter their aim, the shipgirls might go attack the United States again. She doubted the various magical enclaves and countries of North America would be able to handle such a crisis, even if they were not waging war against each other almost all the time. Hell, if the Americans knew how to call shipgirls, they'd try to use them against each other as soon as possible. Though the wizard enclaves might wipe out the native tribal nations left in the Midwest first, before turning on each other.

Hermione pressed her lips together. Even if she managed to keep this secret, the genie was out of the bottle. People had seen the Bismarck. And Hood. And if she managed to call more shipgirls - and she would! - more would be seen. The ICW was already talking about investigating the attack, and while the British delegate was doing what he could to avoid an official investigation - no country wanted that to happen to them - Hermione was certain that various spies for other countries were already in Britain.

The Bismarck wouldn't be the end of this, she knew that. And she had an inkling of what would be needed to keep Britain safe. She sighed. It never ended.

"Hermione?"

Opening her eyes, she saw that Hood had entered the library. For a battlecruiser, the girl could move quite stealthily, at times. "Yes?"

"I was wondering…" Hood trailed off, and coughed.

"You want to know how far along I am with researching the ritual."

Hood nodded. "Yes."

"Well, I've cracked the main problem. What's left are details." Details that could mean the difference between success and dangerous failure, but there was no need to tell Hood that. Hermione had created rituals before, and she knew she was one of the foremost spellcrafters in Britain. She didn't know how she'd match up with those in the rest of Europe involved in the same kind of work - the spells she and her colleagues produced were rarely, if ever, published - but given that she had managed to find a way to stop Voldemort, she assumed she was not too terribly outclassed.

Hood smiled brightly. "Good! We need more ships! We need a real fleet!"

Hermione nodded. The battlecruiser was more right than she probably believed - though then again, Hood was used to a Royal Navy that ruled the seas.

"Which ones will you call?" Hood had walked over to her table, and was leaning on it, staring at her notes.

Hermione took a deep breath, and pulled up her historical research. "I've made a list of the most promising ships." She handed a sheet over to the other girl.

"Prince of Wales, Repulse, Electra, Achates, Dorsetshire, Sikh, Cossack, …" Hood looked up. "Those are all ships who hunted the Bismarck."

"Yes."

"What about Victorious, Ark Royal, King George V, Rodney, Renown, Ramilies, Norfolk, Suffolk, Sheffield? They fought and sank the Bismarck."

Hermione took a deep breath. She didn't know how Hood would react to her next words. "They did, yes. But they survived the war, and were scrapped." When she saw Hood frown, she quickly added: "Or, like some destroyers, they were sunk, but did not lose enough crew."

"What?" Hood was staring at her.

"In order to call a ship back, she needs to have sunk with enough of her crew." The results of her research had been clear: If a ship had not taken enough souls down with her, calling her back as a shipgirl was unlikely to succeed. The same went for scrapped ships. Magic needed the souls, and the hull as a focus. Although she could think of some - dark and evil - ways to compensate.

"We… I … I'm only here because so many of my crew died with me? I was called back because I failed to save my crew? I needed them to die?" Hood was trembling. "I'm a… I'm a monster..."

"No!" Hermione said, more forcefully than she had intended. She had to clear this up fast. If Hood had a breakdown… a suicidal warship with 15-inch guns was not something Hermione wanted to see, ever. "You're not like them. You're a spirit of a warship. A ship without a crew is just a mass of steel, without any use. A crew without a ship is just a bunch of men, useless on the sea. You were formed when both died together. The magic drew both the lingering memories of your crew, and the hull they had lived and fought in together, and gave it a new form. You." This was a rather simplified explanation, and neatly avoided the topic of souls and how those were used by the magic. Something Hermione really didn't want to discuss with Hood. Or anyone else. It was rather close to sacrificial magic, after all. As, incidentally, was the ritual she had researched to seal Voldemort's spirit.

"Ah." Hood was breathing deeply. Calming down, Hermione hoped. "So… I'm not an abomination?"

"No. You're the embodiment of the wishes of your crew. Called back to protect Britain once more." Probably, Hermione thought.

"And those who survived the war cannot be called back?" Hood asked, sounding rather frail right then.

"Not with this ritual," Hermione said, shaking her head. There were other rituals she could think of, but she wouldn't cross those lines. When Hood slowly nodded, she added: "I think we can also call back Hermes, Glorious and Courageous. And with Courageous, Acasta and Ardent. They were not involved in hunting the Bismarck, but I think they'd come back as well." And there were more ships, of course. More cruisers and destroyers. But they'd need battleships, battlecruisers and aircraft carriers more.

Hood nodded. "Glorious and Courageous as well as her escorts certainly - they have a score to settle with the Nazis. Hermes… I don't know. Maybe." She suddenly smiled. "It'll be good to have them back anyway. When do we start?"

"I'll have to iron out the details still. Tomorrow at the earliest." She'd have to take a Pepper-Up Potion or two… but time was running short. The news of missing fishing trawlers near Norway worried her.

London, Ministry of Magic, May 9th, 2001

"Mister Potter! Or should that be 'Auror Potter'? Nominally, you're still a Ministry employee, aren't you?"

Harry Potter looked at the rather agitated acting Minister for Magic and did his best not to sigh. Hyacinth Selwyn was hard to stomach on a good day, and neither of them had had a good day since the Bismarck had attacked London. "Yes, ma'am." He ignored Dawlish wincing slightly behind the witch.

"So, as an employee, you, ultimately, answer to the Minister for Magic - me." The witch glared at him, both her hands flat on her desk.

Harry briefly considered telling her off. The witch was a bigot, if not quite as bad as some of the other members of the Wizengamot, and he was heartily sick of dealing with those idiots. But he needed the help of the Ministry to deal with the Bismarck and her fleet, if only those brave or poor witches and wizards picketing Azkaban. So he answered: "Yes, ma'am." He even tried not to sound too patronising.

She must have noticed his attitude anyway though, since her glare grew worse. "Now, what are you doing? John here pretty much tells me you're working on finding the monster behind the attack on the Ministry, but it is apparent that he doesn't know anything concrete. Tell me what is going on!"

"I'm terribly sorry, ma'am, but the case involves matters that fall under the sole purview of the Department of Mysteries. As such, I cannot reveal any information without explicit permission from the Head of the Department."

"What? Everyone knows that Granger is holed up in your house, working with you! I want to know what is going on! The ICW is breathing down my neck, the Wizengamot is in an uproar, and you are trying to keep me in the dark about this whole affair!"

Harry was envious that Ron was with Hood today, and sighed. "As I said, I cannot disclose such information, ma'am. We are working hard on eliminating this threat, once and for all. We have repulsed another attack before it came close to London, but we're anticipating a third attempt."

"I already heard that from John here! I want to know what you are doing, not some platitudes! Stop trying to confund me with empty words! And don't try to deflect this on Granger! She's not here!"

"Revealing crucial information such as what you are asking for would endanger the whole operation." Harry wanted to hex the stupid witch, but controlled himself. He noticed Dawlish growing tense. Apparently, Harry still hadn't developed what Hermione called a 'poker face'.

"What? Are you insinuating that I cannot be trusted?"

Harry didn't think the witch would appreciate his honest opinion of her. "You said that you are under pressure from the ICW and the Wizengamot. Neither can be trusted with this information."

"I can be trusted with it! I'm the acting Minister for Magic!"

"Ministers have been compromised or magically controlled in the past. Unless you can resist an Imperius Curse and have mastered Occlumency, you cannot be trusted with such vital information."

"That is ridiculous! No one is immune to the Imperius Curse!" Selwyn was almost frothing at the mouth. Dawlish was keeping quiet.

Harry simply smiled.

"What? Are you claiming… that is…" She was gaping at him.

"I threw off the Imperius in my fourth year, ma'am," Harry said. "Not even Voldemort managed to control me." Both Selwyn and Dawlish shuddered. He sighed. "Ma'am, we're doing what we can to deal with this. We learned in the last war that we cannot trust anyone with crucial information. Just tell whoever is pressuring you that we're working on it, and that we'll not react kindly to any attempt to hinder us." Harry leaned forward and spoke more quietly. "Just let us do what we need to. And maybe remind everyone trying to meddle in this exactly who defeated Voldemort." He smiled. "And tell them that you can't tell them anything else for security reasons."

Selwyn closed her mouth, and slowly nodded. She understood then. Dawlish even grinned - the man was a better politician than an Auror, in Harry's opinion.

On the way home, Harry stopped in a pub to watch the news. The owner knew him and his friends, and turned the volume up a bit as soon as he spotted him, then served him a soda without asking.

Harry's good mood disappeared as soon as he saw the report from a devastated Norwegian village, though. The houses in ruins, hundreds dead or missing. He cursed under his breath. It was possible that the Bismarck was simply testing her weapons, or venting on defenceless muggles. But it was more likely, Harry thought, remembering Hermione's explanations, that the Bismarck needed sacrifices.

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, May 9th, 2001

Harry Potter was not surprised when he told Hermione about the missing Norwegians and she simply nodded. "You expected this, didn't you?"

"Yes." Hermione sighed, and tapped her pen on her notepad. "Or rather, it was an educated guess. If the Bismarck is limited by the same mechanics we are, then she'll need sacrifices for some of her most obvious summonings."

"I guess we should be glad then that the Royal Navy had some disastrous battles with huge loss of life," Harry said.

"Oh, yes. There might be some alternatives that would not require actual sacrifices, but they all depend on large numbers of people dying."

Harry didn't ask if she planned to research those alternatives - he knew she would. Just in case. That kind of preparation had saved their lives more than once during the war. "Alright. I'll leave you to it."

"I'm working as fast as I can," Hermione said.

"I know." He smiled when he left.

Luna was outside Hermione's Lair, peering at an empty portrait frame. Harry had never seen a painting inside, just an empty canvas, but Luna was convinced that someone visited while every resident was asleep, and kept trying to catch the elusive visitor. She turned towards him as soon as he had closed the door, though, so she had been waiting for him.

"Harry! You're doing it again!"

"What?"

"You know what I mean."

He thought he did. But it wasn't something he wanted to talk about. Not even with Luna. It didn't look like he'd get his wish - the blonde witch pouted and walked right in front of him, her hands on her hips.

"You're excluding everyone again. Like in the war. You, Ron and Hermione. You don't trust anyone else."

"We trust you," Harry said. Luna had proven that she could be trusted. She had never doubted or betrayed them.

"Well, I don't count. Ask Rita." Luna grinned, very briefly. "But you don't trust anyone else. Not the Ministry, not the Weasleys, not McGonagall." She shook her head. "You can't win every fight alone."

"We're not alone. We have Hood, and we are in contact with the Ministry and the Prime Minister."

"None of them know anything about what you are doing. Not even Hood knows much." Luna glared at him. "I asked."

"Operational security." Harry frowned. Luna should know better. The more people knew, the greater the risk of betrayal was.

"Ginny didn't betray you." Luna frowned back at him.

"I know she didn't. But if we hadn't told her, Snape wouldn't have been able to read her mind and find out," Harry spat out.

He remembered it as if it had happened last night.

They had prepared for that mission for months. Hermione had devoured all the books on wards and Curse-Breaking. Harry's friend had pestered Bill for some tutoring so much, Fleur had thought the witch was after her fiancé, which had resulted in a rather memorable scene at the Burrow. Harry and Ron had trained equally hard with Sirius. Defense, duelling, curses and counter-curses. And they had picked Dobby's brain about Malfoy Manor until the poor elf had had trouble finding his way around Hogwarts. And on the night of the new moon, they had finally acted.

"How much longer?" Ron whispered, face hidden behind a muggle-style ski mask, glancing nervously around the bush they were hiding in.

"Don't rush me! Manipulating the wards so we can pass through them without alerting the owner is difficult!" Hermione whispered back while she continued to weave a complicated pattern with her wand.

Harry touched the small bottle hanging from a cord around his neck. All of them wore the same. It contained Malfoy's blood, and unless Hermione had made a mistake when she created those necklaces, it would allow them to pass through the wards - once Hermione had finished adjusting them.

Only two others knew of their plans. Sirius, who had trained them, and Ginny. Harry's godfather had really wanted to come with them, but his exoneration was still shaky, and being discovered breaking into Malfoy Manor would have meant he would go back to Azkaban. And that would kill him, Harry knew. Fortunately, he had accepted that they'd need him to bail them out, should something happen. Ron's sister had spied on them, and had thought they wanted Malfoy's blood for a dark ritual. She hadn't been repulsed that much by the idea, Harry had noticed, but they had told her the truth anyway.

"And done!" Hermione whispered, smiling widely. "The Death Eater's lair is open to us!"

The three had crept out of the bush, and through the wardline. None of them were using magic to hide - just in case there were spells checking for magic. Hermione hadn't been able to exclude that possibility.

It didn't matter - in their mottled dark clothes, and without the light of the moon, no one spotted them as they made their way to a side door of the manor Dobby had told them was used by the elves to enter the spice garden. Ron made short work of the door's lock - he had learned that from the twins - and the three were inside. Harry had the map memorised, and they quickly passed the kitchen, empty at this time of the night, and the music salon, until they reached Lucius's office.

That was warded as well, and Draco's blood wouldn't help there. But there were more ways around such defences than breaking the wards. Hermione cast a Silencing Charm on the door, and Harry and Ron blew it apart, wards and all, with Reductor Curses.

Lucius was sitting behind his desk, gaping at them. He grabbed his wand, but he was too slow. Harry's Disarming Charm slammed into him and smashed the Death Eater and his seat into the wall behind him. Harry caught the wand while Ron bound and silenced the dazed man. Hermione repaired the broken door. All in less than twenty seconds. As they had trained.

They didn't lift the Silencing Charm until the man had been fed three drops of Veritaserum. Then the interrogation started. And the disappointment.

Lucius knew that the Dark Lord had not died for good, but didn't know how this was possible. He suspected some sort of ritual, like last time, and wondered who would be the chosen helper. All the same, the wizard had already been preparing for his master's return. Stockpiling potions and other supplies. Strengthening his influence in the Wizengamot. And blooding promising recruits by murdering muggles. Hermione made the mistake of ordering the man to list all his crimes, and he complied. So many deaths…

When Lucius told them about the murder of the Prewett twins, Ron almost killed him. When he told them about the plan to frame Hermione for the murder of a muggleborn, a plan he only abandoned because Dumbledore killed Voldemort, she almost killed him. In the end, after the man had spilled all his relevant secrets and crimes, Harry killed him with a Piercing Curse to the head. None of them had ever considered letting the man live. Not after his confessions.

Even so, the mission was only a partial success. They had not found out where the Horcruxes were - other than by inferring from how Lucius was granted the diary - but they knew the Death Eaters were getting ready for Voldemort's return - and how. And the loss of Lucius would hurt those preparations.

They were just about to leave the manor when Sirius warned them. Aurors were about to enter - they were already talking to a house elf. Someone must have betrayed them! And the only other one to have known about this was Ginny.

The three rushed out, barely managing to avoid the house elf before the creature found the corpse of his master. They disillusioned themselves, this time - Aurors would be watching all corners - and ran to the ballroom. Hermione swept her wand, and all the doors and windows opened. They heard cries of alarm from outside, but not even the best Aurors could watch the entire front of the wing that had been opened now. Harry mounted his Firebolt, Hermione straddling it behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist, Ron mounted his broom, and they were off, directly into the dark sky of the new moon.

A minute later, they apparated to the Shrieking Shack, where they hastily changed clothes and then rushed back to Hogwarts. Harry checked the map before the left the secret passage, and they had another nasty surprise: Aurors were inside the school. Shacklebolt was even walking with McGonagall past the statue the three were hiding inside - if they had not stopped, they would have been caught.

"And I'm telling you, Minerva, it is possible. Potter and his friends have been acting very oddly ever since Dumbledore died. You know what they said about the Imperiused Death Eaters. I'd not put it past them to attack the Malfoys to avenge the Headmaster."

"Kingsley! Attacking, yes. But murdering? In cold blood? I refuse to believe that. Severus must be mistaken, or they told tall tales to Miss Weasley. They have to be in bed already. Maybe…"

"A tryst?" Shacklebolt's voice was full of doubt. "The three of them together?"

"Miss Granger is too proper for that!"

The voices faded.

Harry looked at Ron and Hermione. "If we can't make it back to the dorm in time, we can use that as an alibi."

Ron gaped and Hermione gasped.

"It's better than a murder charge," Harry said.

Hermione had bitten her lower lip, then nodded. "I know an abandoned classroom which has been used for that, according to the other prefects. We can set things up…"

Harry smiled. While it hadn't been true, then, it had made them aware of the possibility. And seeing how everyone had reacted to that - especially Ginny - had triggered some defiant reactions as well. When they had made it real, a year later, they...

"You've been lost in the past again, Harry!" Luna interrupted him. "You're too young for that!"

"I don't feel young," Harry said. He patted the blonde's head. "Let's get something to eat, alright?"

She sighed, but nodded.

Orkney Island, Scapa Flow, May 10th, 2001

HMS Hood stood on the beach, her feet in the surf, gazing out at the sea. Behind her, Harry, Hermione and Ron were drawing circles and runes onto the stone floor they had turned part of the sand into. They were working magic, preparing the ritual. Hood couldn't help them with that. Apart from Hermione, no one understood the ritual, even Harry and Ron were just following her quite audible orders. Hood grinned - she wasn't the only one the witch bossed around. She just hoped they would hurry, and start. She knew the enemy was out there, preparing to strike. They had a fleet now, judging by the missing Norwegians. Human sacrifices… back when she had been a ship, that had been nothing more than a sailor's tale. Not a horrible fact.

Another wave lapped at her boots. She almost rode it back out to the sea. She was a ship, not a girl. A battlecruiser. She needed the sea. Needed to sail. And she needed her fleet. Escorts to screen her. Cruisers to support her. Battleships and battlecruisers to cover her. And she needed friends. Family. She was no witch, nor normal human. She was unique. And she didn't want to be. Not when it meant she'd be alone.

She knelt down and cupped a handful of salt water in her palm, sniffing it. It smelled the same as before. No taint. No blood. Not like in her nightmares. This had been her home port, during the war.

And Britain was at war again.

"We're ready!" Hermione said, excitement colouring her tone.

Hood turned around. The witch was standing in a circle, wand in hand. She wasn't wearing her robe though, Hood noticed.

"Let's get started then," the battlecruiser said. "All I have to do is wish for my friends and comrades?"

Hermione nodded. Harry, Ron and Luna, who hadn't been ordered to help preparing, apparently, stood in the circle as well, forming a triangle with Hermione in the centre. "And sing!" Luna added.

Hood closed her eyes when Hermione started chanting. The words sounded alien to her, not quite Latin. But the urgent need, the desperation they conveyed, the determination - Hood was familiar with that. Over 1400 times.

She thought of Prince of Wales, who had been at Hood's side when she died, unable to help. And who had been sunk herself, with Repulse. Glorious, shelled to death by German ships because her ignorant captain made a fatal mistake. Their escorts, sharing her fate. Were they not burning with the desire to return, to finish what they had started? To make up for their failures, as Hood was? To be part of the Royal Navy again? To do their duty again? To be together again?

Hood remembered their sorties. Their exercises. Their battles, scant as they had been. And of course, the hunt for the Bismarck. The most important fight of her own life. The reason she had returned.

Behind her, the chanting stopped. She felt a tingle surround her. Magic. Then the three started to sing. There was but one song for this occasion, and Hood readily joined in.

"Rule, Britannia! Rule the waves..."

When the song ended, Hood saw the air shimmer, further out. The water seemed to froth, to foam. Then a figure, no, more than one, started to rise out of the sea. Water flew down their bodies, down their rigging, as they rose. The sun glinted on the barrels of their guns as they started to move, confused at first, then falling into familiar formations. The leaner figures, destroyers, fanning out in their smaller riggings. And the capital ships forming a line in the centre, massive 15-inchers seeking targets.

Hood barely took notice of the witch collapsing behind her - she was out in the surf, her rigging appearing as soon as she had enough water under her keel, and her boilers heated, rushing towards the fleet that arrived.

The escorts parted before her, their eyes widening when they recognised her. But Hood only had eyes for the girl in the centre. A shade smaller than herself, but with the slightly more muscular figure of a King George V-class battleship. HMS Prince of Wales.

"Hood… but how…" the girl asked. "Where are we? We heard the call… but we sunk… what happened?"

Hood grinned. "We're needed again. Britain expects us to do our duty. For Queen and country!"

The ships snapped to attention. Prince of Wales, Repulse, Dorsetshire, Electra, Achates, Firedrake, Sikh, Cossack. Hermes, Glorious, Courageous. Acasta and Ardent. Even HMAS Vampire.

The Royal Navy was back. Her navy.