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

Chapter 7: To Battle!

Norway, Sandnessund Strait, May 10th, 2001

Bismarck stared at the place where her sister ship had sunk. Unlike herself, her sister had died in shallow water. Instead of going out fighting, like Scharnhorst and herself, she had been killed after spending years hiding in a narrow fjord, a mere distraction for the Royal Navy, until bombers had finally killed her. She hadn't even been able to rest in peace; her wreck had been cut up, plundered, pieces and parts carried off. It was an ignoble end for one of the mightiest battleships of the Kriegsmarine.

But she would return and take revenge. Bismarck would see to it. She took a deep breath. They had taken her sister apart, broken her up, but even without a wreck as a focus, her spirit lingered. As did the souls of the 1204 men who had died with her. She reached out and touched the fragments and shades, feeling their pain. Their hatred. Their desire for vengeance. Feeling and fueling.

She looked over her shoulder, at her escorts. Erich Giese, Wilhelm Heidkamp, Anton Schmitt, Friedrich Eckoldt and Z26 straightened. Each of them was towing a raft or lifeboat, or a fishing boat, filled with Norwegians they had taken from the village they had raided. They were dazed from spending hours inside the storm that hid them from the eyes of the muggles. Weakened and dying.

She scoffed. She had planned to use those sacrifices to raise her sister. But they wouldn't do. Her sister deserved more than to return as a shadow of herself. Bismarck needed more. More muggles dying. More death to fuel the ritual. To give the lingering spirit a form fitting her.

At her command, a dozen 2 cm FlaK 30 turned and aimed at the raft behind Erich Giese. A second later they started firing. Hundreds of shells tore the raft and its occupants to pieces. A few muggles escaped immediate death, jumping or falling into the water. It didn't save them - her guns tracked them, and killed them.

Bismarck closed her eyes, ignoring the screams of the muggles in the other boats and rafts. She had felt those deaths. She shivered. She could use those deaths. It was not as efficient, compared to a proper sacrifice. Much had been wasted. But enough power remained. She looked at her escorts, at Blücher and Scharnhorst. They were staring at her, confused. She smiled.

"Kill the muggles!"

Their eyes widened, for a fraction of a second, before they jumped to obey, eagerly even. The muggles' screams were cut off as dozens of FlaKs opened up on them, snuffing their pitiful lives out, shooting their corpses until the sea was stained red. And she felt their deaths. Drew power from them.

It wasn't enough to grant her sister the form she deserved. But, Bismarck thought, her smile widening as she let the storm fade, revealing the lights of Tromso, there were more than enough muggles right there. In range of all her and her fleet's guns.

Tromso was burning. Bismarck's fleet had wrecked the bridges and causeways of the island first, cutting off escape routes. Then they had started to shell the city. The destroyers had sailed closer, like sharks, all of their guns firing as fast as possible, wrecking houses and streets. Blücher, Scharnhorst and herself had stayed back - the island was so close, and so small, even their secondary armament could cover all of it easily. They had kept firing, even when muggle planes had arrived - Bismarck had nothing to fear from muggle aeroplanes. Once their anti-aircraft guns had shot down one of those 'jets', the others had retreated. A few wizards had arrived on brooms, but had fled as quickly as they had come. Cowards, all of them.

Hundreds, thousands of muggles had died. Bismarck had felt their lives end, had gathered the power their deaths netted her, each trickle adding up. She felt as if she was bursting at the seams. So much power! Enough to summon her sister! Enough to summon even more of her comrades!

She started the ritual, felt and saw the water starting to churn. The tall, muscular form of her sister rose from the sea, pale limbs twitching as she sailed again, after decades. Red eyes met hers, blinking in wonderment. Tirpitz was back. Her sister slowly started to smile.

But Bismarck was not yet done. She closed her eyes, and reached out. She had enough power. More than enough. She didn't need to be at the site of their sinking to call a ship back. Hissing, she focused. Another, slightly shorter form started to rise from the water. Gneisenau. Wrecked and sunk by German soldiers in Gotenhafen to close the port, she was restored now, her guns which had been stripped returned. A leaner figure followed, an eager grin on her pale face. Admiral Hipper. Blücher's sister ship. Scuttled in the last days of the war, raised and broken up, she too had now the chance to take revenge.

Bismarck faced the new arrivals with a smile, hiding how exhausted she was. She had done what she could to restore the ships, poured all the power the massacre of Tromso had granted her into them. They were not as whole as Bismarck herself, or Scharnhorst. Not even all those deaths could make up for what was missing. But they would be more than able to visit upon London and the Ministry of Magic what they had done to Tromso. And this time, Hood would be the one to be hounded by a fleet, hunted down like an animal, and reduced to a wreck in an uneven battle.

She would have her revenge! On all of those who had vexed her!

Orkney Island, Scapa Flow, May 10th, 2001

Ron Weasley knelt next to the collapsed Hermione. A quick Diagnostic Charm - one she had insisted he learn, a more sophisticated one than the one in the Aurors requirements - told him that she was fine, just exhausted. He sighed with relief and shook his head. "Stupid witch overdid it again."

Harry healed the cut on her hand with a flick of his wand and snorted. "She's always been an overachiever."

Both chuckled. Their love was fine. Ron cast a Cushioning Charm and they laid her down on it, Harry brushing some of the hair that had escaped her ponytail from her face. Neither mentioned that they were feeling a bit lightheaded themselves - the ritual had been exhausting.

"Wow… look at all the water dancers!"

Luna's exclamation drew Ron's attention to the sea. He blinked, then grabbed his Omnioculars. "Merlin's Balls!"

"What?" Harry asked.

"She summoned a dozen shipgirls!" Ron said. "No, more than a dozen. Fourteen."

"It's like an Ice Maiden ballet, only on the surface."

Ron didn't share Luna's cheerful opinion. The girls gliding over the water did look impressive though. Two of them were as tall and lean as Hood, and similarly dressed - armored boots and gauntlets, skimpy skirt and shirt. One of them had a more substantial belt though. And a more substantial bust. Battleships or battlecruisers - their rigging gave them away. Three more girls wore shields on their left arm. Tall, slim ones. Flight decks, he realised. Their boots and gauntlets were not armored, and their rigging lacked the bigger guns. One of them straightened her arm, the shield - the flight deck - leveling, and he saw a tiny aeroplane take off from it - and suddenly grow in size. It was a biplane, and it flew towards Ron and his friends.

"Hey!" Luna was waving, and jumping up and down.

The plane waved with its wings as it flew over their heads. Ron didn't see a pilot. "I hope the muggles don't panic," he whispered - small planes had caused panic in some areas, after London. Then he studied the shipgirls again. There was an average-sized girl, athletic but not too lean, standing near Hood. The smaller girls - about 5 foot, he guessed - were all quite athletic. Not quite a Seeker's build, but close. He counted eight, sailing circles around the others. Those would be the escorts. The destroyers. Hood had been clear on the need for escorts.

"It'll take us a few trips to get them all to London," Ron said.

"The house will be full!" Luna beamed at him. "It'll be almost like being back at Hogwarts, but better! They seem to be very friendly!"

They better be friendly, Ron thought. If they were hostile, then Britain was doomed.

"How many did we summon?"

Ron glanced back. Hermione was standing, but still supported by Harry. He wanted to tell her to sit down and rest, but he knew she wouldn't listen. And they needed to get the girls down to London. And get ready. "Fourteen. Two battleships or battlecruisers. Three aircraft carriers. One cruiser I think, and eight destroyers."

"As planned then." Hermione smiled. "I hope it'll be enough."

So did Ron.

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, May 10th, 2001

Luna hadn't been correct. This was worse than Hogwarts. Hogwarts at least had a kitchen staff able to feed hundreds of students. Grimmauld Place had Harry to cook, and Ron to cast the Doubling Charm until his arm felt as if it was about to fall off. Those girls could eat! Each of them seemed to eat as much as Hood did. At least they were now full, and Ron could massage some life back into his wand arm.

But apart from food, the girls needed rooms as well - quarters. Dobby would have been in heaven. The elf had taken over the house after Kreacher had been killed for his betrayal - by Hermione, even - and had thrived for the few months until he died in the Battle of Hogwarts. Without Dobby, Harry and Ron had to do all of the work - Hermione was off in her lair, preparing the ritual to seal Voldemort's soul, so it was ready when needed, and Luna…

Ron blinked. Where was Luna? He hadn't seen her since they had arrived, and the destroyers had started to scout out the house, causing a ruckus - that weird girl who looked like she had nicked half of a Durmstrang robe, Cossack, had almost broken the pantry door.

He found Luna in the living room, flipping through the photo albums. Those covering their younger years. Those Harry had made for Sirius' first Christmas as a free man. She must have heard him entering since she looked up and smiled. "I need to thank you for letting me help you with the ritual."

"We're grateful for your help," Ron said.

"Yes, you are. Which is a very good thing."

That sounded… if that had been a Slytherin, he'd call it arrogant, but for her honest voice. "Err…"

"A year ago, you'd not have let me help. Nor anyone else." Her smile widened, but she sounded sad.

"Ah." Ron had to admit that Luna might be correct. "Well, things changed. We have a homicidal sea monster attacking us."

"Things may have changed, but more importantly, you've changed. You all." Luna sighed.

"We have?"

The blonde witch slowly nodded, her voice turning serious - or as serious as Luna could be. "You're no longer three people who are lonely together."

Ron frowned. "We were not lonely. We had each other."

She kept looking at him, cocking her head sideways a bit. "And that was all you had."

And that had been enough, for years. Each other. Ron remembered the day - the evening - things had changed. A week after they killed Nott, only to find out that Voldemort had another body already. A week, holed up in Grimmauld Place, utterly alone, despairing. Harry hadn't spoken more than a few words in days, hadn't left his room at all. Hermione had buried herself in books, had slept in the library several nights - if napping with her head on a desk could be called sleeping. And Ron himself, he had been, well, angry at everyone, but mostly at himself for not having been quick enough to... whatever he might have done. And for not being able to save his two best friends from themselves. He had tried to talk to Harry, without success. He hadn't known what to say.

And he had tried to talk to Hermione, with the same result. She had ignored him, not even looking at him while she researched. He doubted she was even aware of what she was researching, as long as it kept her busy. She had been so out of it, she hadn't used her wand to summon a book, but had climbed on a chair to get it, and slipped.

He had caught her in his arms, and for a moment, both of them had seemed frozen. Then she had sagged, laid her head on his chest, and cried. For hours, or so it felt. At some point he had sat down, on the floor, with her in his lap. He had held her, and cried as well. She had started talking, between sobs, about her nightmares. About her guilt. About her failures - imagined or real, he couldn't tell. He had talked about his own nightmares, until she had fallen asleep in his arms, in his lap. He had let her sleep, even though his legs had started to grow numb. She had needed the rest.

He had fallen asleep as well, and had slept until he had been woken up, not by a nightmare, but by Hermione. Who had been, if not completely, mostly back to normal. Taking charge. She hadn't had a nightmare, for the first time in a week. And had dragged him off, to sleep with Harry, so their friend could get some comfort as well. And she hadn't taken no for an answer, blasting Harry's door when he had refused to open it.

They had slept together, in the same bed, all three, then. Just slept. They didn't go further that day, no matter what others thought. That part of their relationship happened later. But none of them had ever slept alone since that day.

"You've been lost in the past! Like Harry!" Luna pouted at him.

He smiled. "I've just remembered how we became, well, us."

"Oh." Her eyes grew wide. Then clapped her hands. "I've always wanted to know how that happened! Who did kiss whom first? Were you all together from the start, or did two of you form a couple, and the third joined in later? Or did Hermione make a schedule for her time with you and Harry?"

Maybe, Ron thought, being more open wasn't an altogether good thing…

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, May 10th, 2001

Dinner at Grimmauld Place was far more hectic and packed than any other meal Hermione Granger remembered - and that included the summer in 1995, when the Weasleys and several Order members regularly filled Sirius's kitchen.

She had had to defend her usual seat by threatening to cut anyone encroaching on it off from Harry's food, or she'd have been shoved to the side by the horde of ravenous destroyers. They looked like athletic teenagers, fifth to sixth years, but they were far stronger than even Hagrid - and hungrier than Norberta. Harry and Ron were casting Doubling Charms constantly, again, and whatever appeared on the table was grabbed and devoured. Luna seemed to love it - she was grabbing sandwiches and trying to feed them to the destroyers.

Hermione looked at Hood, who was leaning against the corner, plate in hand, then pointedly at the carnage. She knew they had better manners than that.

The battlecruiser shrugged. "We're in a state of alert - replenishment has to be done as quickly as possible so we're always ready to sortie."

"The pickets at Azkaban haven't noted anything unusual. I think the Bismarck's still near Norway," Harry said, taking a small breather before continuing his casting.

Hermione briefly pondered how to expedite the whole process. If she enchanted the table, or the oven, maybe, to multiply food placed on or in it… No, it would be better to enchant a plate so any food that was taken off it was replaced, with another plate for the original food. She sighed. She had spent the afternoon preparing the sealing ritual they had used on Voldemort, and she was too tired to do such frivolous work… then again, seeing the appetite of the shipgirls, it wasn't exactly frivolous. They would need quite the number of skilled wizards and witches to keep them supplied.

Looking up, she suddenly noticed an owl outside the window. The animal was tapping its beak against the glass, but the noise was lost in the cacophony caused by the new arrivals discussing their duties - and the food. It was Arthur's owl. With a flick of her wand she opened the window, and the disgruntled-looking animal dropped a scroll on her table while knocking over a pitcher of lemonade.

Nothing a quick Cleaning Charm couldn't fix. Hermione cast one while she opened the scroll. As soon as she started to read, she felt like she had been kicked in the stomach.

"What's wrong, Hermione?" Harry asked.

She shook her head as the room gradually fell silent. "Dear Lord… it's from Arthur, and the Prime Minister. There has been an attack on a Norwegian town, Tromso." She took a deep breath. "It was shelled for an hour in the early morning. The death toll is estimated to be in the thousands - they've recovered over two thousand bodies so far, and are far from done. Twice that number of wounded, at least."

"The Bismarck did it?" Hood asked.

"Not just the Bismarck. The Scandinavian Ministry had wizards on site. They reported several creatures walking on water - at least ten."

That sent a mix of hisses and muttered curses through the assembled shipgirls. Hermione understood their reaction. Taking on The Bismarck with her two remaining escorts was one thing, but ten of those monsters?

"Couldn't they stop them?" Prince of Wales asked.

Hermione read further, shaking her head. "No. The Norwegian military lost one fighter, though they're not certain if the F-16 was shot down, or crashed because the pilot made a mistake while flying low. The Scandinavian wizards lost two of their broom riders."

She looked at her friends. That could have been them. Judging by their expressions, they were aware of that.

"Why did they attack that town?" Ron asked. "Was there anything related to Bismarck or Voldemort?"

"The Bismarck's sister ship, Tirpitz, was sunk there," Hermione said. "She was salvaged after the war." She closed her eyes for an instant. "That's why they attacked the town. They needed more deaths to raise her, without a hull left." A lot more deaths. She shivered at the thought.

"They massacred a town for that?" Harry spat out. He looked livid.

"They didn't manage that," Hermione said. "Tromso has, had a population of about seventy thousand." It could have been far, far worse.

"They'll be coming for us now," Hood said. "We need to get recon flights up to cover the coast. In case they'll attack somewhere other than here."

"They won't," Harry said. "Voldemort tried to kill me several times after I managed to survive his first attempt. He'll come for the Ministry again."

Glorious stood up. "I'll go and launch a patrol!" She as well as Acasta and Ardent were halfway to the door before Hood managed to stop them. Hermione winced - the carrier had launched her planes right after she had arrived at Scapa Flow, and she had wanted to keep the patrols going even over London. Only the fact that the sound of her planes over London would cause a city-wide panic had persuaded her to go without a patrol in the air while she was in London. She was obviously determined not to repeat her captain's mistake that had resulted in her being sunk by Scharnhorst and Gneisenau.

"Alright, we'll apparate you to the Thames Estuary. You can start launching your aeroplanes," Ron offered.

Ron grabbed Glorious's hand, Harry took the two destroyers, and they apparated away.

"We'll need to deploy Hermes and Courageous as well, to cover more of the coast," Hood said. "We can't afford to miss the enemy's approach."

The two carriers nodded with grim expressions.

"We'll need to inform the Prime Minister as well, so they won't be mistaken for the enemy," Hermione added. She ignored the scowling that remark caused - the new shipgirls didn't know yet how much their country had changed.

And it looked like they'd have to fight before they did.

London, Ministry of Magic, May 11th, 2001

"We're facing the biggest threat to the Statute of Secrecy since it was instituted! The Scandinavian Ministry is blaming us for it! The ICW is starting an investigation! What are you doing?"

Acting Minister Selwyn was screaming. Harry Potter had never seen 'Horrible Hyacinth' like that - she had completely lost her composure. If they were not in her office, safe from eavesdroppers, she'd be out of her office by noon. And yet he had to tread carefully here, or her panicked actions would make defeating the possessed Bismarck even harder than it already was. He spoke as calmly as he could: "The Statute of Secrecy is not actually in that much danger, Madam. I spoke with the Prime Minister last night and measures have been taken to hide the involvement of magic."

"The muggles have pictures of the attack! Of those monsters! I've seen them!" Selwyn waved some muggle newspapers around.

"Those are the muggle versions of The Quibbler, Madam," Harry said. "Those are not serious newspapers." He felt guilty about maligning Luna's magazine, but it wasn't as if the Ministry took The Quibbler seriously anyway.

"Are you certain?" The witch looked at the newspapers with an expression of distaste.

"Yes. The muggle governments of Norway and Britain have already taken steps to discredit those pictures." And the video recordings. "Though even without those measures the muggles do not suspect magic." At least not the majority. He pointed at a blurred picture of a shipgirl firing her guns. A German destroyer, unless Hood was mistaken. "Do you see that? That doesn't look like magic. That looks like muggle technology." Of course the experts would know that something didn't add up - the attackers appeared out of nowhere, and used weapons which had been decommissioned and destroyed decades ago. But even among those who came to the correct conclusion there wouldn't be many, if any, who'd risk both criminal prosecution and the scorn and ridicule of the public and their peers and actually claim that this was done by magic. But that was too complicated for Selwyn in her current state. "You can assure the ICW that the Statute of Secrecy is safe."

"Until they attack the next muggle town," Dawlish cut in. "Why exactly did they attack that town? There was nothing special about it."

Harry took a deep breath. "We believe it was a test. A test for their new recruits."

Both the Minister and the Head Auror gasped. "What?" Dawlish stared at him. "They recruited more monsters?"

"Yes."

"And… that's why you asked me to double the pickets! You think they will attack Britain!" Dawlish shook his head.

"Yes." Harry nodded. "But we are prepared for them."

"We are?" Selwyn blinked. "Why wasn't I informed of this?"

"Security precautions, Madam Minister," Dawlish said smoothly - the man had recovered quickly. "And plausible deniability."

"Don't feed me that line, John! What did you do?" The acting Minister was waving her wand around, even more agitated.

"We've made allies," Harry said, "who fought and beat those monsters before." That was the story he and his friends had come up with, to hide the fact that they had summoned the shipgirls. "They've sent a force to defeat them."

"What allies?" Selwyn looked like she was about to have a stroke. Her wand twitched, and Harry tensed up. He wasn't about to let her - or anyone - cast at him. Dawlish was listening openly and, Harry thought, eagerly.

He would disappoint them though. "Allies who value their privacy," he said.

"I want to meet them!"

"They do not want to meet you," Harry said. Which was a good thing - Harry didn't think Selwyn's attitude would go over well with the Royal Navy shipgirls.

"What did you tell them Potter?" Selwyn trembled. "What lies did you spread?"

They had told Hood some stories about the last war in the time since the battlecruiser had started living with them. Predictably, she hadn't had any desire to talk to the current Ministry. But Harry couldn't say that to the Minister. "Madam, they only revealed themselves due to the attack on London. They do not want to have any contact with the Ministry."

"They're in contact with you!" The witch sneered.

"Yes." Harry inclined his head. Like Dumbledore used to, when faced with a recalcitrant student. Like Harry had been, at times.

The acting Minister stared at him. "What's your plan, Potter?" she whispered.

"We want to defend Britain from those monsters." Harry was certain that Hermione was already making more plans, for the time after Voldemort's next defeat - she did not think the shipgirls would fade with the threat gone - but for now, they were concentrating on dealing with the Kriegsmarine.

"So go and deal with them!" Selwyn sank into her seat, glaring at him.

She was probably already realising that things were changing, Harry thought. As, a glance confirmed, was Dawlish.

"I'll need to talk to Dawlish about coordinating with our pickets."

"Do so! Just go!"

The two wizards left the Minister's office. Dawlish shook his head once the door had closed behind them. "Are you planning to run for Minister?" he asked.

Harry shook his head. "No. None of us have any interest in that." The paperwork alone would be murder, and dealing with people like Selwyn all day… that would lead to actual murder. Hermione could barely stand her meetings, and she was ignoring most politics, office and regular. "But," Harry continued, "we might have some concerns, from time to time."

Dawlish snorted. "Traditionally, that's done with bribes. But I guess you don't need bribes, huh?"

Harry chuckled. "Now, I need to talk with the one in charge of the pickets - all of them. We might need their help."

"They're not good in a fight. I can ask for volunteers, veterans, instead," Dawlish said. "There are a number who'd jump at the chance to fight at your side."

And among them would be friends of Dawlish, and a few others, likely. Harry knew that. But he also knew just how dangerous the upcoming battle would be. They'd need that help.

Especially if they had to take Azkaban for the ritual to seal the soul fragment.

"Alright. Gather them, and have them ready at noon. But they'll have to be good flyers."

The dozen Aurors and Hit-Wizards who were assembled when Harry arrived at the Ministry were a mixed group of rookies and veterans. Too few veterans, sadly. Harry nodded at Elias Brown, a grey-haired Auror who had survived the ambush at Hogsmeade, and at Bess Elwes, who had been cursed at Hogwarts. He didn't recognise the others. Ron probably would have - his friend had paid more attention to the rookies.

He cleared his throat. "Alright. You all volunteered for this. We're expecting an attack on the Ministry by the same enemy who has attacked before, and who has taken control of Azkaban." Some of the rookies paled a bit. "That monster has spent the last few days gathering more of its kind, and then blooded them in Norway." Brown and Elwes looked grim, and more rookies paled. "But we haven't been idle either - we gained allies who fought those monsters before." Harry was certain that they had already heard that - rumours travelled faster than paper aeroplanes in the Ministry. "Do you all have your brooms with you?"

They nodded.

"Good. We'll apparate to the coast, where we'll set up and brief you." He took out a map, unfolded it with a flick of his wand, and highlighted the beach at the Isle of Sheppey. "Let's get going!" With that, Harry apparated.

A few minutes later the last of the volunteers had arrived at the shore, where a few wizard tents had been put up. Harry cast a privacy spell. "Alright. If any one of you reveals what I'm about to tell you, then you'll find out first-hand what kind of curses Hermione researched to protect the secret." It was a bluff, Harry knew that - or mostly a bluff. He glared at them until he was confident that they understood the need for secrecy. "We're facing evil sea spirits who possess the powers of old muggle warships."

"What?"

"That sounds like something taken straight from The Quibbler!"

"Why did they attack us?"

Harry ignored the comments. "They can walk and run on water, and you all know what their weapons can do."

"Merlin! We're dead!"

He resisted the urge to rub his forehead in frustration. What did the rookie expect when he volunteered but to fight the enemy that had attacked the Ministry? "We're not going to fight them directly. Our allies - other sea spirits - will fight them." He continued, raising his voice to drown out the speculations. "They have protected the British islands against those threats before, without involving wizards."

"Can't they do it alone?"

Harry glared at the speaker. "What's your name?"

"Henry Burke."

A pureblood, of course. Harry sighed. "We're the targets of those spirits. Our allies came to help us; the least we can do is to fight at their side."

"Why are they attacking us?" Burke asked. The man didn't seem to give in easily.

"As far as we can tell, that's because of something Voldemort did during the war. A deal, an alliance, we don't know." Harry rolled his eyes when half the assembled Aurors and Hit-Wizards shuddered when he mentioned the name of the Dark Lord. "You have two missions: First, you'll serve as support for our allies. You'll be on brooms, and you'll cast healing and repairing charms as needed. That will be very dangerous, since you'll be right on the frontlines. The second mission depends on where we'll fight the enemy. If it's near Azkaban, you'll assault and take the island once the enemy is engaged with our allies. Only then, or you'll end up dead before you reach the rock." Harry was certain a few of the group already regretted having volunteered, but the shipgirls needed the support. "Brown, you're in charge of the group. Elwes, you're second in command. Stay here, practise the charms needed, and be ready."

"Alright, Potter," Brown said.

"I'll check in with our allies." Harry nodded, and apparated across the Estuary to Courtsend, where the shipgirls were gathered - with the exception of the carriers and their escorts, who were deployed along the coast.

Hood greeted him with a smile, sailing close to the shore. "Harry!"

It seemed shipgirls were always happy when they were at sea. Or happier. "Hood. Any news from the patrols?"

"Not so far. Ron said that the Navy's submarines have picked up some acoustic tracks in the North Sea, but they couldn't identify them."

"Is he still with the Prime Minister?" Harry's friend was acting as a liaison, like Arthur.

"Either there, or with the military nearby." Behind Hood, the other shipgirls had started to gather.

"Do you think the Bismarck will try to sneak into London?" Harry asked.

"If they're coming from Norway, their escorts will need to replenish. At least those who were called there," Hood said. "But we don't know if they replenished in Norway - or if they even need to." Suddenly she cocked her head sideways. She was listening to the radio, Harry knew. Then she smiled. "Courageous's planes have spotted them. They're headed to that island, Azkaban." Then her smile vanished. "The planes spotted four battleships and two heavy cruisers. And escorts." Hood turned to the other shipgirls.

"England expects that every ship does her duty."

North Sea, Dogger Bank, May 11th, 2001

HMS Hood dropped into the slightly rough sea with a splash, and immediately shot back up as her rigging materialised. Next to her, Prince of Wales did the same. A bit further away, Repulse made a greater splash - the older battlecruiser hadn't been dropped into the sea from a broom before. She recovered quickly though and took up a position to port and to the aft of Prince of Wales.

"This time you're going to let me take the lead," Prince of Wales stated.

Hood knew that the Bismarck would gun for her anyway, but nodded. Her friend still felt guilty for 'letting Hood down' in the Denmark Strait. Dorsetshire was on the way to Hood's flank. Above them, Ron and Harry disappeared - apparated away - to fetch the rest of the fleet. And the wizards who'd serve as their repair crew.

"Courageous to Hood: Enemy fleet is holding course. About a hundred and fifty miles from your position."

Hood acknowledged the message. The Bismarck and her unholy escorts were sailing straight towards Azkaban. The Home Fleet would intercept them before they reached their base.

More splashes. Whooping noises. The destroyers were arriving, apparently having enjoyed the trip. Sikh and Cossack were already cutting through the waves and moving in front of Hood. Acasta and Ardent looked lost for a moment, then fell in port of Repulse. Thirty seconds later, Electra and Achates were dropped, followed by Firedrake and HMAS Vampire, all of who rushed to complete the screen.

Meanwhile, behind them Hermes and Glorious arrived, dropped by Hermione. It was rather close to the coming battle, but it meant they'd be able to launch and recover more strikes before the battlelines clashed. And given what they were up against, they would need that advantage, Hood knew. The scout planes had reported four battleships, without identifying them, but Hood was certain, based on their speed, that they were facing the Bismarck, the Tirpitz, the Scharnhorst and the Gneisenau. The most modern and most dangerous German battleships. And two heavy cruisers.

She let her gaze sweep over her fleet. A British battlecruiser dating back to the Great War, one modern battleship, a treaty cruiser. And herself. The battlecruiser who had been sunk three minutes into her first real battle. This would be a challenge. But the Royal Navy would rise to meet it. As they had done before.

Courageous arrived, followed by broom riders. Aeroplanes started to launch from all three carriers and the wizards and witches quickly gave them a wide berth. Fairey Swordfish from Courageous and Hermes, joined by Sea Gladiators, Gladiators, more Swordfish and even Hurricanes from Glorious.

Hood saw the aeroplanes zip overhead, flying towards the enemy, and felt her heart lift. She turned to her fleet.

"Cruise speed ahead."

North Sea, Northeast of Dogger Bank, May 11th, 2001

Bismarck glared at the sky. That annoying aeroplane was still shadowing her fleet. It was keeping its distance, far out of range of her FlaK, but it didn't let them out of its sight for long. She was tempted to send up her floatplanes to deal with it, but the enemy was likely crewed by wizards, and this was an attempt to lure them away, into an ambush.

It didn't matter anyway - she had a fleet with her, and her old enemies would be crushed by it! Soon they'd reach Azkaban, where they'd pick up Max Schultz and Narcissa and replenish the fleet - there was still fuel left on the island, in the deeper cells. And then they would strike at England. Sink Hood, if the battlecruiser dared to show up, destroy the Ministry of Magic, burn down London…

"Aeroplanes ahead! Dozens of them!"

The warning from Z26 interrupted her pleasant thoughts. "What?" She turned her attention to the front sector, searching the sky. Where… there! Z26 was correct - dozens of aeroplanes were flying towards them. When she recognised them, she gasped - Swordfish! Those had crippled her before, leading to her sinking. But that had been a lucky shot for the flimsy planes. They wouldn't get lucky today!

Her escorts started to fire, clouds of FlaK shell explosions dotting the sky. Her own 10.5 cm FlaK 38 started to fire as well. Soon the smaller calibres joined in. But the aeroplanes were not deterred. They dived, descending to fly just above the tops of the waves. One veered off, trailing smoke, crashing into the sea, another followed, but the rest leveled out and pressed on.

"Evasive maneuvers!" Bismarck ordered.

"Aeroplanes above us!"

The panicked scream from Tirpitz alerted her to another attack. Looking up, she noticed aeroplanes high above the fleet, starting to dive. They were caught between dive bombers and torpedo bombers! She cursed, then she recognised the planes. Those were no dive bombers! "Ignore the diving planes, those are fighters!" she ordered. "Focus on the Swordfish!"

A British fighter strafed her, the machine gun bullets hitting her superstructure without much of an effect. Another followed. All over the fleet, fighters buzzed over the ships. They didn't matter. The dozens of torpedoes about to be dropped into the water were the real danger.

Bismarck spotted several of the gnats making an attack run on her, and turned towards them. Her FlaK fired, and one of the Swordfish disappeared in a fireball - her gunners had learned from their mistakes! The others dropped their torpedoes, but the heavy fire had thrown off their aim - Bismarck threaded the fish. Near her, Scharnhorst's gunners shot down another plane - a fighter, this time.

"Gneisenau, evasive action!"

The shout from Erich Giese made Bismarck whip her head around. The smaller battleship was the target of four Swordfish, and it seemed her FlaK was ineffective - they were lined up perfectly, and just as Bismarck's own gunners started to take aim, the torpedoes dropped.

For a moment, Bismarck held hope. Torpedoes were not that reliable. They malfunctioned. Failed to explode. Ran too deep. Ran in circles. For a moment, it looked like the frantically turning battleship might evade. Then the first torpedo hit, and Gneisenau screamed. Another hit, the battleship's leg was buckling, part of her rigging torn off, she started to list… and vanished in an explosion.

Bismarck cursed. That shouldn't have happened! Gneisenau was stronger, better armored than that! A lucky shot, again! How much luck did those British bastards have?

"Hipper!" Blücher's yell drew her attention to another attack. Three Swordfish had dropped their torpedoes near the heavy cruiser. Admiral Hipper was in the middle of a turn, and once again Bismarck had to watch helplessly as one of her ships was struck. Two hits, with such force that she saw parts of the cruiser's rigging fly through the air. Hipper was listing heavily, but she hadn't blown up. Two torpedoes - the cruiser should be able to handle that.

But she couldn't. Hipper's list grew as she tried to hold the bleeding hole in her leg together, her face a grimace of pain and panic. She even tugged on her leg, as if she could, like Münchhausen, pull herself out of the water, shortly before she toppled, rolled over and sank beneath the waves.

Bismarck stared, face impassive, while the FlaK fire petered out as the last surviving aeroplanes made their escape. Two ships sunk - a battleship and a heavy cruiser - in one attack. Reports started to come in - all of the fleet had suffered some superficial damage from the fighters, especially the escorts. And Tirpitz, who had also been struck by one torpedo, but counter-flooding had saved her.

Bismarck shook her head. Tirpitz was her sister ship. She had weathered worse attacks before finally succumbing to massive bombs! But she hadn't had a proper hull for her raising, and so she had come back weaker than before. Like Gneisenau and Admiral Hipper.

And the enemy had aeroplanes, at least two carriers' worth. Three probably. Bismarck sneered. It would be more difficult than she had thought, but they would sink all of those British ships, and avenge their sunken sisters!

She closed her eyes and reached deep inside herself. Aeroplanes would not be able to fly through the storm she was calling up to protect her fleet.

North Sea, Northeast of Dogger Bank, May 11th, 2001

HMS Hood was smiling widely when she heard the reports of the first airstrike. One battleship and one cruiser sunk, more damaged! A far better result than she had expected. Now if the next strike was as successful, then they had this in the bag.

"Weather's worsening around the enemy fleet," Courageous reported.

Hood cursed. If there was a storm brewing - contrary to what the weathermen had predicted - then that was the Bismarck's doing. To prevent another airstrike, no doubt. Which meant they would be facing a fleet at least as strong as theirs, without support from the carriers during the clash. The odds had just changed again. She heard Hermione berate herself over the radio for not having thought of that, and chuckled. That was war. Plans had to be adjusted all the time.

Radar wouldn't be affected by the storm, and they had another surprise left, at least. Hopefully, it would be enough.

"Prince of Wales, full speed ahead! Fleet, match her speed!"

She heard her friend mutter under her breath as she increased her speed. Prince of Wales hated to be the slowest ship of the formation, to hold the rest back - but it couldn't be helped. They needed to stay together, if they wanted to win this.

Behind them, the wizards flew on brooms. They'd be affected a lot by the storm as well, but maybe their magic could help them last. Without them, the odds would be even worse. But the Royal Navy would persevere. Tradition and duty demanded it.

The returning aeroplanes passed overhead, waving with their wings as the fleet, especially the destroyers, cheered, with HMAS Vampire wildly swinging her hat around before resuming a more proper decorum.

The storm ahead was growing. Optical rangefinders would be almost useless at long range. And only Repulse, Prince of Wales and herself had radar. At least the Germans would have it even worse.

The fleet sailed on, the raunchy banter between the destroyers that hid their anxiety slowly giving way to grim silence. The sea was rough now, the waves high. The destroyers were struggling - but it would be worse for the Germans. Much worse.

Her radar picked up the enemy van at the same time as Prince of Wales's did, shortly followed by Repulse's. "Adjust course fifteen degrees to starboard!" she ordered, to angle her approach and unshadow her rear turrets. Repulse and Prince of Wales followed suit, while the destroyers adjusted their positions relative to the approaching enemy.

She started to aim her guns, adjusting the solution. They were almost in range. "Harry, fire window!"

"Firing window," Harry responded. A second later, she heard an explosion overhead, and thousands of small aluminium strips filled the air above the fleet. They had been cut to half the wavelength of the enemy's radar, which Hermione had easily found in the historical works.

"Adjust course ten degree starboard!" Hood ordered, and once again, the fleet complied. That would throw off whatever firing solution the enemy had managed before their radar had been blinded.

"Fire once in range. Focus on the contact in front." That was either the Bismarck, or the Tirpitz. Hood hoped it was the Tirpitz - according to Hermione, the Tirpitz, as well as Gneisenau, were very likely to be weaker than their sister ships due to the circumstances of their summonings.

She heard shells whirl overhead - they were already in range of the German 38 cm guns - but they were going wide.

Ten seconds later, Prince of Wales's guns spoke. For a moment, Hood was jealous - her friend's guns outranged her own. The fast battleship fired one more time until the enemy was finally in range of Hood's own guns, and Repulse's.

"Fire!"

Eight 15-inch shells rose from the muzzles of her guns and flew towards the enemy, disappearing into the storm raging ahead. The enemy answered with volleys of their own, but they were blinded by the storm they were hiding in, and the window - kept up by magic spells, and renewed by Harry and Ron - prevented the German radar from ranging them correctly while their own worked perfectly.

Already the leading ship had been hit twice. Hood noticed a battleship in the rear of the enemy formation, slower than the rest. "Shift fire to the enemy at the rear!" she ordered. It was either damaged, or an older model - either way, it would be an easier target.

Prince of Wales was a bit quicker than herself and Repulse, but soon ten 14-inch shells and fourteen 15-inch shells were straddling the new target.

"Adjust course fifteen degrees starboard!" The enemy was trying to close, drawing them into the middle of the storm, but Hood had no intention of obliging them - she would be exploiting their current positional advantage for all it was worth by steering away from the enemy.

The next volleys scored several hits on their target, and it started to slow down even more. Hood grinned. First blood would go to the Royal Navy.

A few enemy shells splashed uncomfortably close though - they were adjusting their aim as well. Probably tracking the shells, somehow. Or guessing really well. Hood suppressed her fear of plunging fire touching off her magazines. They had the advantage now. Another volley was in the air, arcing towards the enemy, disappearing in the storm, and Hood's radar recorded three more hits. The enemy ship had slowed down so much, it had to be severely damaged and taking on water!

A nearby miss shook her through, causing slight damage to some plating. A lucky shot, she told herself, returning fire. Their target had fallen out of formation, and was left behind by her comrades. Hood almost felt pity for the doomed ship. Then she remembered Tromso, and snarled while her guns spoke again.

More hits. The enemy was dead in the water now. Sinking, most likely.

"Shift aim to the leading enemy ship!" Hood barked. Not a minute too soon - already she could see the smaller enemy ships picking up speed, racing ahead, towards her own screen.

The fleets were about to clash.