I'd like to thank thekingofsweden1, rpeh and brianna-xox for beta reading. Their work and diligence has improved the story a lot.

Chapter 8: Plots Exposed

London, Diagon Alley, August 28th, 1999, 18.15 hours

"According to the Daily Prophet, the Wands of Britain have proven their valour and skill by rescuing the Greengrasses."

Lucius Malfoy smiled at his wife's words, though he was already on his guard - Narcissa was quite adept at hiding biting criticism in effusive praise. "I've never doubted them."

"And yet my dear sister escaped." The pureblood witch frowned at him.

Lucius barely saw Draco whispering to Dobby as he fought back a sigh. "There was nothing the Wands could have done, dear." He had checked the reports, and the memories of select mudbloods. Who would have thought Bellatrix could learn how to fly without a broom?

Narcissa sniffed. "Another chance missed to claim my ancestral mansion."

"Even if Bellatrix had died, your other sister, her daughter, and your cousin would still be around," Lucius pointed out. His wife's fixation with Grimmauld Place was growing more irritating.

"It would have been a first step at least." Narcissa daintily sipped from her wine.

Draco scoffed, drawing Lucius' attention to the fact that he was reading the Daily Prophet at the table. Before he could scold his son - and the house elf that had brought it to him - Draco put it down. "Mudbloods! Almost losing to a weak-minded rabble in the thrall of some creature!"

"You're talking about a very powerful creature, son. Your aunt was the Dark Lord's most trusted follower; she is by no means weak-willed," Lucius explained, wondering once again if he should have told Draco the truth about the Dark Lord. But at the time, his son had been too young, too impulsive. Too Gryffindor. And afterwards… He'd do it once Draco decided to settle down.

"Indeed. Bellatrix is many things, but weak-willed? Do not underestimate this 'creature', Draco," Narcissa said. As much as she hated her sisters, she took offense when anyone insulted them. Lucius knew that from personal experience.

"Yes, mother."

"To think the Greengrass family came close to becoming extinct," Narcissa said. "Neither daughter has yet founded a family."

Lucius knew that tone. He exchanged a glance with Draco, who looked pleadingly at him, and nodded. "It would be far too crass to talk about marriage right after such a horrible event, dear. Unbecoming of any old family." Daphne, marrying Draco? Lucius would personally kill her if everything else failed!

His wife was fuming, he saw that, but she didn't say another word. A Black would rather die than conduct herself in a crass manner. Well, a Black other than Bellatrix.

For a while, the family ate in silence.

"May I read the official report, father?" Draco asked suddenly.

Lucius looked at him. His son hadn't shown much interest in the details of his work so far. He smiled. "Of course. It's good of you to take an interest in such matters." For Narcissa, he added. "But after the meal, of course."

Later, in his study, he handed the preliminary report to his son. Draco skimmed most parts but the actual fight, mumbling some names. Was he maybe worrying about his dalliances? Lucius had already spoken with the key Wands, but showing the entire family cared about them would help morale, the Minister thought. As last night had proven, they needed the mudbloods to beat the Dark Lord.

Maybe his son was growing up. It wouldn't be the first time a young wizard became a man during times of war. Lucius had done the same, after all.

London, Diagon Alley, August 29th, 1999, 20.45 hours

Wand-Leader Hermione threw the last report she had to write on the 'out' pile on her desk. Finally done! She leaned back, ignoring the jealous expression of Dean, who was still writing his reports, and stretched her arms over head. The Wands had been buried in paperwork this afternoon, but the young witch had felt she had been singled out - she had had to write reports as 'acting Wand-Commander' as well, just because she had been in command for a few minutes.

Now though, she had finished her task, and could leave for Diagon Alley. Meet with Antoine, check up on Luna, head to room 11 at the Leaky Cauldron… It was tempting, but she had another task left still.

She needed to find those retired Obliviators who had saved her from her muggle parents. She tried to suppress the doubts that she harboured, the nagging feeling that the reports she had read did not tell her what had really happened. It was inconceivable that the rot she had discovered among the Obliviators reached that far back. It had to be inconceivable.

And yet, she wouldn't be able to shake this feeling until she had tracked Keagan Banks and Ottokar Merriweather down and interrogated them.

She grabbed a roll of parchment and stood up. "If anyone is looking for me, I'll be down in the Wills Registry."

"Updating your own will?" Dean looked at her. "Are you and that tourist that serious?"

Hermione chuckled, ignoring the emotion that question brought up. "I'm just covering the bases. Theoretically, the attack on Greengrass Manor could have been motivated by someone slated to inherit the estate." Greed was behind many crimes, after all.

Dean snorted and shook his head, indicating what he thought of that theory, but went back to his own report as she left.

A few minutes later, she entered the registry. As expected, no one was around. She dropped her request on the desk of the clerk in charge, who'd see it in the morning, checked for witnesses, then went into the archives. The witch had memorised all the close relatives from the family registry, and it didn't take her long to discover that Banks had inherited his great-aunt's home in Durham. Merriweather was trickier - his family had a lot of members. She finally found a cottage in Pembrokeshire that he had inherited from his great-uncle in 1990.

On a whim, she checked the family registry again. Both Banks and Merriweather had inherited their estates despite the bequeather having multiple closer relatives. Banks's great-aunt had disinherited her own children. Hermione couldn't help but suspect foul play - it would have been easy for a trained Obliviator to modify some memories, and arrange an inheritance...

She'd have to be very careful approaching these two, Hermione thought as she left the archives.

London, Diagon Alley, August 30th, 1999, 06.30 hours

Lying on her side, her head propped up by her off-hand, Wand-Leader Hermione trailed her fingers over the chest of a sleeping Antoine, up to his face, and over some of his freckles. She smiled when she saw him grimace and scrunch up his nose, still asleep, at her touch, and withdrew her hand.

"I'm becoming a scarlet witch," she mumbled. "I didn't even think of returning to the barracks yesterday." She didn't really feel guilty about it though. Being with Antoine just felt right. Luna said he made her happy, and she was inclined to agree.

She leaned over and kissed him on the lips, which woke the wizard up.

"Too early…" he moaned, squeezing his eyes shut.

Chuckling, she shook her head. "You'd never make it in the Corps."

"Probably not," he admitted. "Not that I'd be able to join anyway, right? You're all muggleborn."

"Yes," she said, wondering where he was going with this. They hadn't talked about blood in a while.

"And you're the best wizards and witches in Britain."

"Yes." She smiled proudly, then blinked. What...

He smiled wryly. "And yet the purebloods look down on you. Weird, right?"

She nodded, slowly, then shook her head. "We're trained for this. They aren't."

"Oui, I've seen Aurors in action, they really are not trained enough. Wouldn't have lasted half an hour back…" he trailed off, sighing. He must have remembered the war, she thought. "Do you have time to eat breakfast with me?"

"If you don't take too long getting up and dressed." Hermione grinned at him, glad to see that topic dropped. "Unless you'd prefer to do something else in the time I've left…" she licked her lips, and his eyes lit up.

Outside Pembroke, Pembrokeshire, United Kingdom, August 30th, 1999, 22.40 hours

Wand-Leader Hermione, wearing her invisibility cloak, studied the cottage near the coast of Wales. Ottokar Merriweather, retired Obliviator, lived there. Alone, according to the records she had seen. As expected from a centuries-old house, the wards were quite strong. She wouldn't be able to break through them quickly enough to catch anyone inside - or avoid the response of the Corps. Fortunately, she had other options. Especially since this area was registered as magical, and wouldn't trigger an alert at the Ministry.

Out of her bag, she pulled a box with four frogs inside. A flick of her wand had them confused into thinking it was mating season, and an Amplifying Charm later the area was filled with croaking loud enough to drown out a dragon's roar.

It didn't take long for Merriweather to leave his cottage, wand in hand, to deal with them. To his credit, he seemed to expect someone else to be around as well, since he was looking around and had cast a Shield Charm in advance. He didn't think to cast the Human-Presence-Revealing Spell though, not even when he left the warded area. Amateur, she thought, as she sent two Piercing Curses followed by a Stunner at him.

His shield shattered under the first curse, the second holed his leg, and the Stunner took him down before he could scream. She had expected that, and had aimed at his legs so she'd not accidentally kill him.

She hadn't expected the red curse flying at her from the window of the cottage though. Fortunately, she had excellent reflexes and was invisible, so she managed to dodge the spell by dropping to the ground. Rolling to the side, she berated herself - her instructor had taught her to keep moving when casting while disillusioned. Now she was facing someone in a warded house, who had probably already called the Aurors.

She could summon Merriweather, and flee. But her plan to obliviate him afterwards was already foiled - the other wizard would know of the attack. And she couldn't get to that wizard; breaking through the wards would take longer than even the response time of the Aurors. She cursed under her breath - she had been sloppy to assume he was alone, and lacked a backup plan - and sent a few spells at the cottage, seeing them splash against the wards without effect. With a bit of luck this would be seen as another Fanatic attack, or a simple attempt at theft. They'd not suspect a Wand.

Then she apparated away. She had a house in Durham to visit.

Near Durham, County Durham, United Kingdom, August 30th, 1999, 23.05 hours

Keagan Banks had a bigger, older house than his former colleague. Even stronger wards too. Hermione had another batch of frogs, but to use the same trick twice would be foolish. Not to mention that she would run into the same problem if the man had visitors. But she had a plan. Instead of the box she pulled out a vial and a small pouch with a lock of hair out of her bag. She picked a single hair from the lock, then dropped it into the vial.

A gulp later, she felt her body change, taking the shape of a 16 year-old Cho Chang. Back in her fourth year at Hogwarts she had decided to go with Marietta Edgecombe's body to teach the two Ravenclaws a lesson, but she had kept the hair from the older witch as well. A quick transfiguration changed her nondescript robes into a copy of the latest fashion from Teen Witch Weekly, and a few drops from a flask gave them the correct smell of firewhiskey.

The picture of a drunken teenage witch, she deliberately walked into the wards. Her yell of pain when they pushed her back hard enough to make her stumble wasn't as fake as her appearance.

"Hey! What's wrong with you?" she shouted. "That hurt!" She didn't quite hit Chang's snobby accent. Not that it would have mattered - Chang was now quite a bit older.

She closed her eyes briefly, then walked into the wards again. "Ow! Merlin damn it!"

That did it. The front door opened, and Banks peered out, wand aimed at her.

"Tyron? That you?" She squinted at him.

"You've got the wrong house, Miss."

"Uh? But I apparated just like I learned." Hermione stood up on shaking legs. She didn't need to fake that - she was not used to this body, and the wards did hurt. Swaying on her feet, she shook her head. "We celebrated our licenses, you know."

The former Obliviator sighed. "You're drunk."

"Tipsy!" she protested, giggling. "I just had a tiny bit!"

"You'd better use the Floo to return home."

"Thank you!" She smiled at him and walked once again into the wards before he could stop her, though this time she yelled even louder, and stayed on the ground.

Hermione heard him mutter about 'stupid bints' and walk towards her. When he shook her shoulder, she rolled onto her back with her wand pointed at him.

"Stupefy!"

Near Durham, County Durham, United Kingdom, August 30th, 1999, 23.20 hours

Levitating the retired Obliviator into his own home and securing him hadn't taken long. Using gloves, Wand-Leader Hermione opened his mouth and administered four drops of Veritaserum to the man. It might be a slight overdose, but she was certain the man would survive it.

"Rennervate!"

Banks woke up with the dull expression of a potioned man. He showed neither fear nor anger at being bound to a chair - the Veritaserum was working. Hermione activated her Dicta Quill and started her questions.

"Who are you?"

"Keagan Banks." Prompted, he stated his birthdate, address and family.

"Were you working for the Obliviator Office back in 1983?" She leaned forward, watching him carefully.

"Yes."

"Did you recover a muggleborn child named Hermione Granger in 1983?" She almost stumbled over the name. Granger. She had a family, apart from the Corps.

"I don't know."

For a moment, she feared he had been obliviated. Then she told herself it had been sixteen years. Witnesses rarely had a good memory, especially after such a long time. She pulled out the copy of the report. "Is this your signature?"

He squinted at the parchment. "Yes."

She let him read it. "Does this report state the truth about what happened during that incident?"

"No."

Hermione drew a hissing breath. "What parts are untrue?"

"The muggle abuse."

"The child abuse by the muggles?" She held her breath.

"Yes."

Hermione closed her eyes, and fought to concentrate. She still couldn't assume, didn't know… "Was the child hurt as stated in the report? Broken bones, bruises, lacerations?

"Yes."

"By whom?"

"Ottokar."

"Merriweather?"

"Yes."

She hissed. "Are you certain?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"For the report. Some Healers don't like to fake files."

Some. Not all. The rot had spread more than she had feared, even back then. "The report claims you obliviated the parents. Is that true?"

"Yes."

The young witch wondered if the man had started to fight the potion, he was rather evasive compared to other subjects she had interrogated. Although as a former Obliviator, he would be well-versed in the mental arts. "What exactly did you do to them?"

"Stunned them and set fire to the house. Made it look like an accident."

Her parents were dead. Hermione had no family in the muggle world. She ground her teeth and focused on the interrogation again. "Why did you do this?"

"Orders."

Orders? What? "You were ordered to do this?"

"Yes."

"By whom?" Who could have ordered them to do this, and fake the reports? To murder and lie?

"The Department Head."

Merlin! How far did this conspiracy reach? "Cornelius Fudge?"

"Yes."

Fudge… he was still Head of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. But according to all she had heard and had observed, he was weak and easily influenced… could he have hidden his true nature like this? So close to Minister Malfoy, for all those years? She trembled. "Was there any reason given for those orders?"

"Orders from higher up."

Hermione froze. There was only one person above Fudge. The Minister himself. That couldn't be true. Not him. Fudge had to have been lying. But why? Why would he have done this? Maybe he had been imperiused, but again, for what purpose? And by whom? Maybe Banks had been memory-charmed, but again, to what purpose? No one knew she was investigating this. What aim, what goal would it serve to lie about a muggleborn's family? She knew one possible reason, of course. Even if it couldn't be true. "How… " She took a deep breath. "How many reports about muggleborns being abused by muggles did you fake?"

"I don't know."

Frowning, she reworded the question: "Did you fake more reports about muggleborn children being abused?"

"Yes."

She hesitated, then pushed on. "Did you fake all of them?"

"Yes."

Once again she wanted to stop, but she couldn't. She had to know. "Did you ever see any muggleborn child being abused by muggles?"

"No."

Merlin! Herself, Dean, Colin, Sally-Anne, Seamus… everyone in the Corps 'knew' they had been saved from magic-hating muggles! It couldn't be true! He had to be lying, or be manipulated. But her training made her continue the interrogation. Her training, and her need to know the truth. "Did… did the Minister know about this?"

"Don't know."

"You don't know if he knew?"

"Yes."

She shouldn't ask the next question. Her training had taught her that. But she couldn't help it. "Do you think the Minister knew?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Fudge wouldn't have done anything without his approval."

Fudge. It came back to Fudge. He was the key. She would have to interrogate a department head. Without getting caught. Merlin! Could she do this by herself? And yet, if she didn't, she'd never know just how far this rot had spread. And even though she dreaded the answer, remaining ignorant was not possible.

She asked a few more questions, learning details that made her feel both enraged and sick. She came dangerously close to killing the man on the spot. The things he had done… "Did you obliviate and memory charm purebloods as well?"

"Yes."

"Who?"

The rather long list included his own family, which she had suspected already, and numerous others. Sometimes for petty reasons, sometimes for worse. Once again she had to fight her temper or she'd have killed the man. Taking deep breaths, she noticed that he seemed more lucid. With an evil smile, she turned her wand on him.

"Obliviate!"

London, Diagon Alley, August 31th, 1999, 06.00 hours

Ron Weasley woke up in Hermione's arms. A situation he was becoming quite used to lately. Late last night she had come to his room, straight from work. She hadn't said anything, and he hadn't asked after she had deflected his first question, but she had been different. Not quite shocked, but much more … emotional than usual. Not just passionate during the act, but clingy afterwards, as if she needed to hold on to him or she would lose him.

He wondered what had happened. She hadn't been like that after the battle with the Dark Lord. And yet he couldn't ask, not without raising suspicions. She was a Wand-Leader, after all. And at risk from the Dark Lord himself. A risk she had no idea about; she didn't even know that the Dark Lord had returned, from what he could tell.

He longed to tell her, warn her, and yet, he couldn't think of a way to achieve that without ruining his cover. And his brothers were close to finishing their lethal inventions. Even if he managed to capture Hermione to keep her safe, her friends would likely die. And she'd hate him. Even more than for lying to her and deceiving her and exploiting her love.

He closed his eyes, feeling like the worst wizard in Britain. At least that burglar hadn't revisited Percy's room. Maybe his brother's cover had held.

He felt her waking up. Her arms started to move around, wrap closer around him while she was still asleep. Then she stiffened, for a moment, realising she was hugging someone. Then he felt her relax, and her arms and hands wander around, after she remembered who she was with. And then…

"Good morning, Antoine…"

He felt her breath on his neck while she whispered into his ear, and stiffened himself.

"Good morning, Hermione."

She tugged at him, pulling on his back while she slid on top of him, a smile on her face. Licking her lips, she seemed to hesitate for a moment, almost as if she was shy, before he pulled her down into a kiss.

He managed to forget his guilt until she had left.

London, Ministry of Magic, August 31th, 1999, 10.15 hours

Wand-Leader Hermione ignored the usual frantic preparations of the Corps for the Hogwarts Express' departure on September 1st. She had a mission of her own. Cornelius Fudge. She needed to find a way to interrogate him without anyone knowing about it. He was the key in this investigation. The one who was behind this… those crimes. And his interrogation would prove that.

It wouldn't be easy. Fudge wasn't paranoid, but he was security-conscious. He usually had a guard and his secretary with him whenever he left the Ministry for an official reason. Not that he did that often since the attacks by the Fanatics had started - he had taken to almost exclusively traveling via the Floo Network. His home would be warded of course.

But, Hermione thought with a smile, he had a weakness. Two actually. His secretary, Dolores Umbridge, didn't like the Wands, and let them know it at any opportunity. That included sending Wands on guard out on menial tasks as if they were mere unskilled workers. Like fetching meals for her boss, or other purchases.

And that meant that it was an open secret among the Wands that Fudge had a mistress. If she could take the witch's place with Polyjuice, she'd have the perfect opportunity to dose the man with Veritaserum. But for that, she needed to know who his mistress was. That wouldn't be too easy. A Tracking Charm on the next gift Umbridge sent a Wand out to fetch was a possibility, but she would have to be very careful with those. Or… some of the gifts had been clothes. Anthony had complained a lot about having to fetch dessous. Maybe she should check with Madam Malkin's.

Further plans were interrupted by Dean arriving in their office.

"Did you hear about the last attack?"

"What?" An attack by the Fanatics? Or was he talking about her own actions last night?

"Yes. Someone tried to kidnap Ottokar Merriweather. Fortunately, his nephew John Merriweather was with him, and managed to save the man."

"John Merriweather?" He had been the wizard at the cottage?

"Yes, our suspect. They claim it was a Fanatic, but they seldom attack alone. I think this was related to our investigation," Dean said.

Hermione didn't let her nervousness show. Did he suspect it had been her? "Do you think our suspect took over the family business when his uncle retired? And that he is in trouble with the unknown source of that illicit wealth?"

Dean nodded, and Hermione felt relieved. "Yes. Either a victim, or a greedy partner. Either way, we can use this as a pretext to investigate him further, right?"

She nodded. "It's not quite enough to dose him with Veritaserum, but we should be able to take a very close look at his finances. And maybe at those of his nephew."

Dean grinned, and she smiled, but she wasn't that happy about it. If their investigation uncovered more of what she already knew, then Dean would know about it - and he didn't know Occlumency.

She was in a bind. For the first time in her life, Hermione hoped that they'd not find anything in an investigation.

Outside Pembroke, Pembrokeshire, United Kingdom, August 31th, 1999, 15.40 hours

"Yes, sir, we need to investigate the entire area. That includes the house," Wand-Leader Hermione said politely while Dean and Colin were already searching the cottage - a bigger task than expected, due to several expansion charms applied to its interior. Ottokar Merriweather looked outraged, but he didn't explode. Pity, Hermione thought - she had her wand ready and could have stunned him at the slightest provocation.

"Is your nephew here?"

"No. He's at work," the wizard spat out.

She nodded. "We'll question him there then. Now, please describe the attack, from the first time you noticed something amiss…" Her Dicta Quill was already taking notes.

The wizard glared at her again, looked back to the kitchen where Colin was inspecting the pantry, then started to talk. "I was talking to my nephew when I heard this infernal noise from giant frogs."

"What were you talking about with your nephew?"

"Huh? Family business." He briefly looked alarmed, then settled down.

"Ah. Please continue." She'd not be able to dig further than that. Not yet.

"I went outside, to deal with whatever was there, when I was attacked. Blew a hole in my leg, then I knew nothing anymore." He rubbed his calf.

"You were attacked with two spells then?" She knew she had cast three spells.

"Three. One spell shattered my Shield Charm."

"Did you have time to cast the Shield Charm?" Hermione asked.

"Yes."

"So, did you see the attacker before you were hit?"

"No, I did that before I left my house."

"Ah." She nodded. "Did you expect an attack?"

"Can't be too cautious these days," Merriweather grumbled.

"And yet you went out alone. Not even with your nephew," Hermione said, only her expression turning the statement into a question.

"He was covering me from the window."

"That was brave of you. But also foolish."

"We drove the attacker off. You didn't do anything!"

"Are you certain it was just a single attacker?"

"So my nephew said."

"Did he see him then?"

"No, but he said the spells all came from the same location."

Hermione nodded. She needed to be more careful with that tactic. "Do you have any idea why someone would attack you?"

"No," he said, glowering.

"Do you own anything a thief might target?"

"No."

"So, it was a random attack, which you didn't expect, but were prepared for." She kept her expression bland while Merriweather ground his teeth. "Do you have anything else to add?"

"No."

"Thank you for your cooperation, sir."

Dean left the man's study, nodding at her and patting his pocket. He had copied all documents he had been able to find then. Colin finished taking pictures of the last room.

"Do you have a cellar?"

"No," Merriweather said, too quickly.

Hermione pondered searching for the entrance, but decided against it. She didn't have a solid enough suspicion yet.

"Thank you, Mister Merriweather. We will do our best to capture your assailant."

"You'd better," the man grumbled.

The three Wands left, apparating to the Ministry as soon as they had left the wards. Once back in their office, Hermione cleared the big table. She frowned at Dean when she discovered a box of half-eaten take-out. At least it had been put in stasis. "I can't leave you alone for one evening, huh?"

"One evening, yes. But lately, it's more like almost every evening," Dean retorted. He was grinning at her, though.

She didn't quite blush. Part of her felt warm, remembering the reason why she was missing so many meals with her team; part of her was happy that any further absence of hers might be blamed on that as well. And another part of her felt guilty for lying so much to her closest friends.

She pushed those feelings away. "Let's see what you found."

"I have all his records!" Dean emptied his pockets, and the table was covered in tiny scrolls that were quickly unshrunk.

"Good work, Dean. Now let's see what the man tried to hide with all that parchment."

Colin looked eager while Dean groaned, but they would all do their duty.

London, Ministry of Magic, August 31th, 1999, 18.30 hours

"Alright. Merriweather's records do not show any sign that they have been tampered with," Wand-Leader Hermione summarised the results of the last few hours.

"It was a bust!" Colin exclaimed, obviously annoyed.

Hermione shook her head. "No. It simply means that he's using channels that do not leave records."

Dean nodded. "The muggle world."

"Only partially. Even if he fences the loot there, muggles can't pay him galleons. For that he has to use wizards. Or goblins," she added.

"Only a fool would use goblins to fence illegal loot. Whether it's stolen or illegally imported muggle goods, they'd blackmail him and drain him dry." Dean smirked.

"Which leaves us with wizards. Wizards willing to break the law."

"Knockturn Alley!" Colin piped up, looking excited.

"Exactly," Hermione said, pleased that her youngest team member had caught up. "With the scope of this - all Obliviators have shown unaccounted-for wealth - they have to have something set up there." She didn't mention her knowledge about the crimes against purebloods.

"How do you want to do it? Shake them down, or undercover?" Dean leaned forward.

"Undercover. If we shake them down, someone might warn our targets," Hermione explained.

"Is there a chance they might use memory charms on those wizards?" Dean asked.

"There is, but if they regularly sell whatever they bring back from the muggle world, they can't obliviate everyone all the time; they need to have structures set up." Hermione smiled. "And we'll find them." Banks had mentioned his contacts during the interrogation, but those had been replaced or retired in the years since. Merriweather was likely still doing that kind of business, if his nephew was so close to him, but he was out of her reach, for now.

"Good! We can't track them in the muggle world, but Knockturn Alley is in our jurisdiction," Dean said, sounding very satisfied.

She looked at her friends. "Exactly." Checking her watch, she added. "And it's dinner time."

"Dupont waiting?" Dean asked.

She grinned. "I hope so." They'd go dancing again.

"We need to meet the wizard who makes you stop working on time," Dean said. Colin nodded.

"You did," Hermione pointed out.

"Properly, I mean."

She stared at him for a moment. He wasn't jealous, she was certain of that. She couldn't see a logical reason not to introduce them to Antoine. Though an illogical, selfish part of her wanted to keep Antoine all to herself, and maybe to Luna, she nodded. "I'll arrange it. Not today though," she added, when Dean perked up with a glint in his eyes. "Without a warning, I'm not going to spring you two on anyone but a suspect."

Hermione left their office while her team members chuckled. Antoine was - hopefully - already waiting for her.

London, Diagon Alley, August 31st, 1999, 22.51 hours

Ron Weasley was going to hell. In a houndbasket. Or whatever the saying was - his dad sometimes mixed them up. The lies he told were just piling up. He knew his lover was in danger, as was her best friend, and he needed to warn them, without endangering his own family. Or himself.

He closed the door to his room at the Leaky Cauldron, casting a few spells on it, for privacy and security. When he turned around he saw Hermione's robe on the floor, and her smiling at him wearing … were those?

"Do you like it?"

"I wasn't aware Wizarding Britain had that kind of lingerie… certainly another reason to move here!" he said, smiling.

Her face fell for just a second, before she smiled again. "I transfigured them myself, actually."

"You did a good job." She would have had to have a picture at least, as a model. He didn't mention it, of course - as far as he knew, possession of 'muggle items' was prohibited.

"Thank you."

The witch stepped closer, a sly smile on her face, and ran her wand over his robe. He almost didn't hear her whisper.

"Wingardium Leviosa."

His robe flew over his head, landing on a chair, or maybe a lamp. He didn't care. He gathered her in his arms, and carried her to the bed, all thoughts of deceit and dangers forgotten.

Later, lying next to each other with her head on his chest, he finally said what he had wanted to say the whole evening, but always had found reasons - excuses - not to. "You know, I wondered…"

"Hm?" She looked up at him, pushing back her brown mane with one hand.

"Luna was mentioned rather prominently in that article, wasn't she?"

She frowned slightly, though the way her nose seemed to scrunch up just a bit was adorable, he thought. "It's her father's magazine, and she was present. And without her, we'd not have known about the attack, not in time to save them."

"It's not that. It's just… the attack failed, and that monster might take it personally. What if it plans to go after the Lovegoods?" He saw her open her mouth, and went on before she could say something. "It happened back… " he trailed off. "You know. The enemy going after prominent people, to make an example out of them."

She drew in a hissing breath, seemed to ponder something for a bit, then nodded. "The Greengrasses are still considered to be the enemy's main target. It makes sense, of course - the enemy wanted them dead, yet they still live."

He made a note of this small indiscretion about the Wands' orders.

"But," she continued, "the Lovegoods are also in danger. I've given Luna a communication mirror, so she can alert me if the Rookery comes under attack, but…"

"You think it's not enough."

She nodded.

"I may be able to help you with that." It would help his mission, he told himself. The Order did expect an attack on the Lovegoods, and hoped this would lead to another battle between the Ministry and the Dark Lord's forces.

Ottery St Catchpole, Devon, United Kingdom, September 1st, 1999, 10.20 hours

Ron Weasley stared at the house that looked like a giant chess piece. A rook, to be precise - though more in the style of the muggle chess sets he knew. At least, he couldn't see the trebuchet wizard rooks usually had on the top to shoot the pieces they took. Shaking his head, he said: "Now I know why you wanted us to apparate, instead of taking the Floo network."

Hermione, standing next to him, chuckled. "Yes. It's a very impressive sight from the outside - as long as you haven't seen the inside yet."

"What do you …"

His question was interrupted by a loud scream: "Hermione!"

Luna Lovegood had spotted them, and was rushing towards them. He could see the Wand's eyes widen, before the blonde crashed into her and the two tumbled to the ground.

"Oof! Luna!"

"What? We're not in Diagon Alley, and the grass is soft."

"Never mind."

Hermione untangled herself from her friend and slowly got up. Luna shot to her feet, and tried to tackle Ron. Being much taller, much heavier, and more muscular than Hermione, he stood his ground, though he swung her around once to keep her from hurting herself by crashing into him.

"Whee!" she yelled, finding her balance again. "You should keep that one, Hermione. He's fun!"

Before either Ron or Hermione could comment, she had grabbed their hands and started to drag them towards her home. "Come, come! Father's waiting! I think."

Ron exchanged a glance with Hermione, expecting her to be slightly flustered, but she was just grinning at him. The reason for her mirth became obvious as soon as he stepped into the house. The Lovegoods' home was cluttered with all sorts of exotic things, covering the walls, the shelves, and peeking out from under couches and inside half-closed chests and trunks. Stuffed animals, both magical and muggle - at least he thought they were stuffed; one seemed to move as soon as he was not looking at it. Body parts and skeletons, thankfully not moving. African tribal masks, American native headdresses, staves and trinkets of all kinds. Muggle guns next to a muggle helmet, and what looked like a washing machine with a TV antenna on top of it made him feel a pang of nostalgia; that looked like his father's office. And parchment and books, more of either than he had ever seen outside the library in Beauxbatons, or the Ministry in Paris.

"I understand now what you meant," he said, and Hermione's grin widened while she nodded.

"Ah, there is our Heroine!"

"Daddy!"

"Mister Loooof!"

Luna's father was hugging Hermione, lifting her off her feet even. "I have to thank you so much for saving my little girl! I thought she was safe, but apparently, the Greengrasses had been dealing with illegal snake egg smugglers, and attracted the attention of the Indian nagas, who sent an assassin their way. Probably. I've not yet ruled out the possibility of the half-naga, being the result of an affair between Astoria's father and a naga, come to restore the family honour."

Definitely Luna's father, Ron thought, while Hermione smiled - it looked a bit forced to Ron, but that could be because her ribs had to hurt after that hug - and Luna nodded sagely.

"And you must be the wizard who finally caught Luna's best friend's heart! Well met, Mister Dupont!" Mister Lovegood offered his hand, and Ron shook it, then blinked when the man suddenly leaned forward, studying him.

"Hm…" The blond man walked around Ron, who fought the urge to turn to keep facing him. "Tell me, Mister Dupont, do you have British relatives? You remind me of my former neighbours, the Weasleys."

"Err… I don't think so, sir. Though I can't exclude the possibility that some of my ancestors might have had ties to Britain, before they moved to Québec. Centuries ago," Ron added. His parents had never mentioned that 'poor, eccentric Lovegood', their former neighbour, was sharp enough to almost see through his disguise.

"But he cannot be a Weasley, father!" Luna cut in. "Weasleys all have red hair!"

"That could be a glamour, or a curse!" Her father declared, nodding to his own words.

"What?" Ron said.

"Indeed! Let us check!" Mister Lovegood continued as if he hadn't heard, and aimed his wand at Ron.

For a moment, he was torn between drawing his own wand and starting a fight, and apparating away. He could blame old trauma from the war, he bet. He decided to stand and do nothing instead, hoping whatever the wizard was about to cast wouldn't turn his hair red.

It didn't, to Ron's relief.

"No curse, and no glamour," Lovegood said, sounding disappointed. "That would have been a great story though - a relative of the Weasleys, back in Britain!"

Ron forced himself to sound curious and ignorant. "The Weasleys, sir?"

"Blood traitors," Hermione muttered from where she was skimming a book near a pile of musty tomes.

"I would not call them that, myself," Mister Lovegood said, with a glance at the Wand. "They are an old family, very brave, all of them. Gryffindor to the core."

"Loud too, Mum said," Luna added.

"Yes. Molly had a temper. They were our neighbours. Back when the Dark Lord waged his war, they fought for Dumbledore. And when the war was lost, they left with him. Even Muriel Prewett did, and she was not even a Weasley."

Ron heard Hermione scoff, but ignored it, for now.

"They had been prominent supporters of Dumbledore, so they couldn't have stayed, even if they had wanted to." The man sighed. "The Minister had their house razed to the ground."

"It was an interesting one! I saw pictures. Taller than the Rookery. All angles and shingles and wooden…" The tip of Luna's tongue stuck out from her lips while she apparently tried to find a word for walls that rhymed with 'ngles'. "... boards." She finished, with a disappointed expression.

"Interesting," Ron said, in as bland a voice he could form.

"Not as interesting as this house!" Hermione said, slipping her arm into his. "Can you give us the tour?" She added, with a beaming smile.

"Of course! We've found a few more interesting things since you last visited!" Luna stood up from the stack of books she had been using as a seat. "Some we found in our own attic!"

Ron's smile slipped a bit when she added: "They shouldn't be dangerous anymore."

"I would recommend an escape tunnel," Ron said, later, discussing the threat to the house, and possible ways to protect the family.

"But then we'd surrender the Rook!" Mister Lovegood said. "We can't do that!"

"And Hermione will come to save us, with all her friends!" Luna said, beaming at the witch sitting next to Ron around the oval kitchen table.

"Just as a last resort," Ron responded. "Houses can be rebuilt, people can't." His parents had said that often at home.

Hermione nodded, leaning forward. "I would feel much better knowing that you can flee anytime you choose. Otherwise, I'd be worrying about your safety in the middle of the battle."

"Oh!" Luna jumped up, sending her chair sliding back against the wall. "We can't have you distracted! Antoine is distraction enough for you! Father! We need a tunnel!"

"Very well. I shall see if we can purchase one." Mister Lovegood nodded.

"What? Purchase?"

"The goblins are said to use instant tunnels to raid their dwarven neighbours," the man started to explain.

Ron hadn't ever heard of dwarves. "But… that would mean others knew of it. And could sell the secret to your enemies."

Hermione agreed. "It's best to dig the tunnel yourself. I can teach you a few charms that would make it easily, if you want."

"Or we can use the Voracious Mole!" Luna said. She turned to the door, then stopped. "I mean, if we had one."

Hermione groaned. "Luna… please don't tell me you violated the rules about importing magical animals again!"

"Alright!" Her friend chirped. "I won't then!"

"That's not what I... never mind." Hermione sighed.

Ron had the distinct impression that this was not an isolated incident.

Beauxbatons, September 2nd, 1999, 22.45 hours

Albus Dumbledore put the report of young Mister Weasley down on his desk and pondered its content. The Lovegoods' home was certainly no old wizarding manor. Its wards wouldn't keep the Dark Lord away for any length of time. The protection granted by the various plants surrounding the area - Whomping Willows, mostly - would not slow down Voldemort either, though the Lovegoods would know that, after the daughter had seen him fly away.

The house wouldn't serve well as a battleground; the Death Eaters would be gone too quickly for the Ministry's response. Theoretically, that would make it an ideal target for Severus to recommend to Voldemort to strengthen his position and regain some of the trust he had lost. Though with the escape tunnel that was being dug - by means that Mister Weasley had declined to describe - that would soon change. And given the Dark Lord's vanity, he might want to attack those who had labeled him a 'half-naga' anyway, and Severus would not gain anything from the sacrifice of that family.

Besides, Albus told himself, Severus would still be trusted since it had been his contribution, his help, that had made the Dark Lord's 'return from death' possible in the first place. None of the Death Eaters still loyal to Voldemort had managed to accomplish that. Severus had delivered the ritual that gave the Dark Lord a new body. A ritual that Albus had found. He wondered, sometimes, what Tom would do should he find out that his new, inhuman appearance was due to Albus's careful modification of the ritual, and not a side effect that could not be avoided. If only Albus had dared to alter the ritual even more. If he could have built a physical weakness into the ritual without the Dark Lord spotting it...

Sighing, he leaned back. Their best opportunity was another attack on the Greengrasses. Severus was optimistic that Lucius would agree to letting their new location slip soon enough. That would have to do.

The Lovegoods would have to hope that the Dark Lord delayed his attack long enough for their escape tunnel to be completed, or for the Wands to be able to respond in force even quicker. If they underestimated their enemy, then both the responding force and the Lovegoods would be killed. He didn't think they would, not after facing the Dark Lord in person, but they still did not know who he really was.