I'd like to thank brianna-xox and fredfred for betaing. They improved the story a lot.
Chapter 21: Foul Play
London, Diagon Alley, September 30th, 1999, 15.30 hours
"Exiles out! Exiles out!"
Ron Weasley heard the shouts of the crowd from far away. And if he was guessing right, it was around where Diggle's house was located - Dumbledore's friend had just taken possession of his ancestral home yesterday.
"Who'd have thought they'd go that quickly from rumours to riots?" Tonks, wearing another disguise, muttered next to him.
"This seems to be happening a bit too quickly," Ron said. He had spent months in Britain, and he thought he understood the population quite well by now. And this was unusual.
"You think this is the Dark Lord's work?" Tonks almost stumbled as she asked that.
"I fear it is. First the rumours, now this." Ron cursed. "And merde alors! The Wands will play right into his hands!" He started running. He didn't know what he could do, but he had to do something.
"What do you mean?" Tonks fell in next to him.
"They will try to disperse the crowd, and…" Screams and explosions cut off his explanation.
The two were about to round the corner when they found themselves facing dozens of people running towards them, fleeing in panic. And behind them, in front of the Diggle House, he saw smoke rising from craters in the street, and bodies on the ground. And Wands exchanging spells with robed but not masked people.
He pulled Tonks to the side before they were trampled, ducking into the entrance to a shoes shop while the crowd rushed past them. "Too late!" he snarled.
"What?" Tonks asked, wand out, and apparently trying to get a clear line of fire to the battle.
"Rumours, a riot, and now a massacre." He shook his head. Ron would bet half his gold that whatever spell had blown up the street and many of the rioters hadn't been cast by the Wands. With those who were able to run gone, he could see the carnage. Screaming, bleeding people on the ground, some crawling over bodies, trying to get away while the Wands in front of Diggle's house finished off the attackers with their usual efficiency.
"Fiendfyre!" Tonks shouted next to him.
He whipped his head around and saw a giant snake made of flames pounce on the Wands. They raised a stone wall that deflected the cursed fire, but one of them was caught outside its protection, and vanished in the flames.
"Merlin!" Tonks muttered.
Ron was conjuring more walls, to shield the others in the area. If they were quick enough they could contain the fire that way...
He heard screams from behind him, and turned in time to see another fire-snake in the street - headed towards him and Tonks. Without thinking about it, he tackled her into the shop, hoping the owner had a fire ward.
They did. The flames clashed against the windows and he felt a heat wave strike them, but neither the front of the shop nor Tonks and himself were burning. The wards wouldn't hold for long though; not against Fiendfyre.
"We need to to flee!" he shouted, trying to apparate while he stood up. Apparition was blocked. He pulled Tonks up and started towards the back of the shop. The metamorphmagus stumbled over a display of waterproof sandals, but Ron caught her and dragged her with him.
They had just left the main show room when the fire ward broke down and the flames rushed in, turning shoes, sandals and even lavaproof boots to cinders. Tonks whipped her wand around and a stone wall shielded them for a bit longer. Long enough for Ron to blow the back door open with a Reductor Curse even though breathing became difficult as the flames consumed the air.
The two ran out. Tonks cast another wall behind them while Ron tried to apparate them again. This time it worked, and they found themselves back at the Leaky Cauldron. He spotted brown robes in the middle of the assembled crowd there, and pushed his way through the panicking wizards and witches. Behind him, Tonks crashed into a corpulent witch, and both went down in a tangle of limbs.
"Death Eater attack on the Diggle House!" he shouted, once he was close enough to the Wands. "Imperiused people and Fiendfyre! Anti-Apparition Jinxes all over the area!"
The Wand-Leader at the front nodded towards him - the only acknowledgment Ron got - and led his team into the Alley. Ron heard the cry of 'Fiendfyre' spread, and the sounds of multiple Apparitions when fear won over curiosity among the people around him.
While Tonks managed to get up, cursing at the other witch, Ron watched another part of Diagon Alley burn.
London, Diagon Alley, September 30th, 1999, 15.55 hours
Wand-Leader Hermione was torn between doing her duty, and checking if Ron was safe when she heard about the attack on Diagon Alley. Duty won. She told herself that she couldn't do anything anyway, if Ron wasn't safe. And that the best way to keep him safe was to do her job as a Wand. Which was currently to help stop the fires raging in Diagon Alley.
Fortunately, the Death Eaters who had started the fires had either fled or were dead, or so the first responders reported when her team arrived at the location, and efforts to contain the Fiendfyre were already underway.
Walls of stone - thick enough to resist the cursed flames long enough to be replaced and reinforced in time - had been erected in the side alleys separating the burning part from the rest of Wizarding Britain's merchant mile. Wands on brooms were floating above the burning houses, sending conjured streams of water into the burning ruins. And other Wands were pulling bodies from the site, sending both those who could be helped and those already dead to St. Mungo's.
She turned to Dean and Colin. "Alright. Bubble-Head Charms up, we'll push on to the site of the incident."
"Joy," Dean muttered. "On the frontlines again." Colin was already taking pictures.
Hermione snorted. "At least we're just fighting fire, not Death Eaters."
"Just," Dean said, sending a stream of water ahead and wincing when it turned to steam on the stones close to the burning shop at the corner.
Hermione winced as well. This wouldn't be easy or quick.
It wasn't.
Hermione stared at the remains of the house one of Dumbledore's 'old friends', Dedalus Diggle, had reclaimed just a day ago. Nothing was left but rubble and a few stone pillars whose enchantments had stood up to Fiendfyre better than the rest of the house.
Then she looked at the crater in the street, noting how the cobblestones had been blown away by the spell that had caused it. They would have turned into deadly projectiles, smashing into, or even through, those wizards and witches the blast itself hadn't killed. Many of them would have been alive, but wounded. Unable to flee as the battle raged around them, as Wands exchanged curses with Death Eaters and rioters. And then the fires would have started, the heat quickly growing untenable. Bubble-Head Charms and Cooling Charms would only have prolonged the agony of those who'd managed to cast them.
She was now looking at the remains of the victims. They had been burned so badly, she couldn't tell Wands from Death Eaters or passers-by caught up in this catastrophe. Some she wouldn't even have recognised as bodies without her training. Colin was still taking pictures, despite having vomited earlier. Dean was not showing any emotion.
And she really needed to see Ron, hold him, know and feel that he was safe. But she had a job to do. He would understand. She hoped.
"Alright. Did anyone find spell residue?"
Dean shook his head.
"I didn't get any either." She hadn't expected to find any, not after Fiendfyre had swept over the area. "We'll need to depend on the memories of the survivors of this battle to analyse this."
"It's the same kind of attack we had before," Dean said. "Death Eaters."
"But this time they were hiding in the crowd," Hermione said.
"Traitors."
"Or victims of the Imperius," Hermione said. "At least some." Most of the rioters wouldn't have been under a spell. The Dark Lord didn't have enough followers to control so many. But as today had shown, he might not need that many to strike at the heart of Wizarding Britain.
"The ones who stayed and fought, maybe." Dean scoffed. "Don't know many purebloods who'd fight if they could run, unless they were under the Imperius."
Hermione glared at him. Such talk was dangerous, given the rumours going around. Even if it was mostly true. She looked around. No one but Wands were close enough to have heard that, even with some spells to help. She didn't call him out on his remark, even if she should have - she had talked like that too often herself to not feel like a hypocrite.
Kneeling down next to the charred remains of a rioter, probably, she checked the crater with a charmed measuring tape. After reading the results, she shook her head.
"Found something?" Dean stood next to her. Colin joined them as well, curious as usual.
She nodded. "The crater is smaller than those we found in the Nott and Malfoy Manors. So, it wasn't the Dark Lord himself. And based on the slight angle of the crater, the Blasting Curse was cast from the roof on the other side of the street." She pointed away from Diggle's house. "None of ours were there. Which means," she added with a grim expression, "That the Death Eaters didn't want to strike the house, or the Wands guarding it. They wanted to strike the rioters."
"But…" Colin blinked as he understood.
Hermione nodded. "The Death Eaters want the British purebloods to think we attacked them."
And they might have succeeded too.
London, Diagon Alley, September 30th, 1999, 18.49 hours
"Hermione!" Ron Weasley called out when he saw his girlfriend enter the Leaky Cauldron, which had been turned into a makeshift information post it seemed, with lots of people coming and going and leaving notes with Tom the bartender. The witch turned her head, spotted him, and her tired, anxious face lit up with a smile. She almost knocked over a hag on her way towards him, and an instant later she was hugging him. Hard.
"I worried about you…" she whispered near his ear.
She smelled like smoke and burned flesh. For a moment, he feared she was hurt, then he realised what she would have been doing, and relaxed. "I didn't want to distract you, in the middle of this…" he whispered. They needed a simple way to tell each other they were alright. Maybe a special coin that would vibrate, like Luna had.
"Stupid."
He didn't know if she meant him, herself, or both. He saw Dean and Colin step closer. The older Wand was grinning, the younger was staring. Others were staring at well. And whispering. Dean stopped grinning and now was glaring around, and people refused to meet the wizard's gaze. Colin looked confused, then angry. They must have overheard the whispers.
"Let's sit down," Ron said, loudly enough so the two Wands in Hermione's team heard it as well, and would know they were included. A few minutes later, Tom had served them drinks and they had cast privacy spells.
"Rumours are going crazy. They claim that the Wands killed all the purebloods protesting the takeover of Britain by Dumbledore's exiles."
"Bloody purebloods," Dean muttered. "Stupid fools."
"It was a setup," Hermione said. "The rioting wizards were killed by Death Eaters, or people under their command, to make it look as if the Wands did it."
"I thought so when I saw the attack," Ron said.
"You saw it? I need your memory!" Hermione pulled out a vial and removed the stopper.
Ron nodded, pulling out the memory of the incident, and making a mental note to tell Tonks not to reuse that particular face. "Tonks and I had to run from the Fiendfyre." He didn't want Hermione to discover that in the pensieve without warning.
The witch tensed up. "How bad was it?"
He winced, then out his hand on hers, squeezing gently. "We made it, but we were lucky."
She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. "You almost died then."
He nodded. He wouldn't lie to her.
She wiped her eyes with her hands, muttering curses under her breath.
"I'm sorry," Ron said. He was - for hurting her. Not for risking his life though.
"It's how we met," Hermione said, smiling sadly.
He understood what she meant. She would have done the same. Had done the same in the past. And would be doing the same again. Even if it hurt them.
Dean cleared his throat, and Ron tore his attention away from Hermione. Colin was fidgeting with his camera. "What can we do about those rumours? I almost hexed that idiot insulting us."
"Who? What did he say?" Ron asked. He had a feeling that it had been mostly Hermione who had been insulted.
"That we were Dumbledore's tools. That we're oppressing the purebloods," Dean said while Colin nodded.
They probably used less neutral language too. Ron sighed. "What can we do about it? If people believe that…"
"We tell them the truth," Hermione said. "That the Dark Lord murdered people to frame us."
"People will claim that we're covering up our own crimes," Dean said.
She shrugged. "Some will, but some will believe us. We'll take pictures from all the memories we can gather. If The Quibbler publishes them then that should persuade at least some of the purebloods."
"Hopefully," Dean said.
"I'll do my best!" Colin piped up.
They'd all do their best, Ron knew. He just hoped it would be enough.
They had to defeat the Dark Lord quickly, before things went completely out of control.
London, Ministry of Magic, October 1st, 1999, 08.45 hours
"Hermione? Sarah wants to see you!" Sally-Anne said, peeking her head into the Investigative Branch's offices.
Wand-Leader Hermione put the reports from Diagon Alley down and stood up.
Dean frowned. "She should know we don't have anything yet. We haven't even started with the pensieve sessions."
"My pictures have been developed," Colin said, holding out a stack to Hermione.
"Thanks." She copied them and took the copies with her.
Sally-Anne was waiting for her. Hermione would have preferred to think about what she'd tell the Wand-Commander on the way to Sarah's office, but she knew that wouldn't work. Not unless she told Sally-Anne off, and she wasn't about to do that. The Corps needed to be united in this crisis. And Hermione couldn't afford to annoy Wands anyway. Not while she was in a relationship with Ron.
"So… I heard your lover was there when the attack started!" the other Wand said as soon as they started walking.
Hermione flinched. "Yes. It was a very close call," she said in a flat voice. He had come close to dying. His description had been clear about that, and she wasn't looking forward to see it in his memories.
"Oh. I'm sorry." Sally-Anne sounded sorry - for a few seconds. "But he's alright, right?"
Hermione nodded.
"Good! Have you heard the latest rumours? They claim Dumbledore is taking over Britain with us to oppress the purebloods!"
"I heard." Hermione had seen the glares and glances as well.
"That's so stupid! The purebloods called Dumbledore, after all."
"He expected them to call him though. And he did arrange things so they'd depend on him," Hermione said. That was known in the Corps, after all.
"I know. But still, they called him, and expected us to follow their orders. Now they claim he uses us to oppress them? That makes no sense."
"We could oppress them if we wanted," Hermione pointed out as they reached the hallway to Sarah's office.
"But we don't want to." Sally-Anne knocked on the door. "Hermione's here, Sarah!"
"Enter." Came the response.
Sarah was not behind her desk, but standing in front of the enchanted mirror showing Diagon Alley. The smoking ruins of the Diggle House, to be exact.
"Good morning," Hermione said while Sally-Anne closed the door behind her.
"Good morning." Sarah looked at her with an unreadable expression.
Hermione straightened up. "We haven't yet been able to study the memories of the witnesses, but we have taken their statements, and the initial conclusions indicate that the riot was orchestrated by the Dark Lord's followers in order to provoke a fight, use that to murder dozens, and frame us for it."
"Thank you. I didn't call you to talk about your investigation though. I'm aware that you only have preliminary results so far."
Hermione winced. She seemed to have spoken in haste. "Sorry, Sarah."
The Wand-Commander made a dismissive gesture with her hand. "I've called you because of your relationship with Ron Weasley."
Hermione raised her chin slightly and tried not to let her sudden nervousness show.
"According to the rumours, he fell in love with you while undercover, and revealed his identity to you."
"That's true." Hermione didn't know where Sarah was going with this.
"And then you verified his honest intentions with Veritaserum."
Her talk with Sally-Anne had been more successful than she had expected, Hermione realised. "He offered to let himself get dosed. I took that as sufficient proof, given how unlikely a deception was under the circumstances."
"I see." Sarah turned to look at the smoking ruins once more.
Hermione waited, not as patiently as usual. She still didn't know what Sarah wanted.
"Do you plan to marry him?" Sarah asked, without taking her eyes off the mirror.
"Yes," Hermione said.
"These rumours spread by the Dark Lord are hurting us," the Wand-Commander said after a pause. "They stir up the population, and weaken the country." She pointed at the crater. "That will do even more damage to the Ministry, and to us. Too many believe the lies, even though we've informed the Daily Prophet and The Quibbler about what really happened."
"We haven't finished the investigation yet," Hermione said.
"I know. But we cannot wait. Diagon Alley might see another riot if we let things go on."
Hermione couldn't argue with that - she had seen some wizards dismiss the newspaper in the Leaky Cauldron as lies. "Yes."
"And the last thing we need are rumours that lovestruck Wands are being manipulated by cunning exiles."
Hermione stiffened. Was Sarah about to tell her to break up with Ron?
"Even worse when it's the Commander."
Hermione blinked. Oh! Did that mean... Merlin!
Sarah turned back towards her. "What do you know about Sirius Black?"
Hermione swallowed. She didn't know how to answer that.
London, Diagon Alley, October 1st, 1999, 12.15 hours
Hermione was still feeling guilty when she was on her way to lunch with Ron. Not because she hadn't been able to tell Sarah anything that the Wand-Commander hadn't already known about Sirius Black after her dates with the wizard. That was actually a good thing - Hermione hadn't been forced to choose between betraying Sirius's confidence, or lying to Sarah.
No, she had felt guilty because she hadn't been able to help Sarah with her dilemma. The Wand-Commander couldn't exactly interrogate her paramour with Veritaserum, and rumours to that extent wouldn't have much credibility. Not with Sirius appearing to be one of the most trusted friends of Dumbledore. But hiding the relationship would be impossible - or close to impossible. Sarah was the leader of the Wands. Her security wouldn't allow her to sneak out for a date without half the Corps knowing. But to break up… could it be called breaking up if there had only been a few dates, at most? She wasn't an expert on such matters anyway.
She was still pondering the problem when she reached the restaurant where Ron was waiting. And Luna. And Harry. And Ginny.
"Hello." Hermione tried not to feel irritated. She had expected lunch with Ron alone, but Luna was her best friend, and Harry was Ron's.
"Hermione!" Luna stood up and hugged her. "We've been waiting for you!"
"Ron was about to start ordering," Ginny said, earning a glare from her brother.
Hermione kissed Ron, then sat down next to him, checking the menu even though she knew the selection by heart.
"Have you read the special edition of The Quibbler, about the riot in Diagon Alley?" Luna asked after they had ordered.
Hermione had. It was an atypical article, without any of the quirks often present in the magazine. No comments about how ashwinders would have been able to use the fires to breed. No other fantastic beasts being mentioned. Just the raw, sad truth. Or rather, the deduced facts. "I did. I think you covered the incident well."
"Hopefully it'll help with all the rumours. People have been glaring at me!" Ginny said. Harry reached over and rubbed her back.
"They're not glaring at us now," Harry said.
"That's because this is a restaurant that catered to half-bloods and muggleborns," Ron said. "The laws have changed, but British purebloods still don't frequent it. British purebloods who did not go into exile, I mean…"
Hermione wondered how many among Ron's generation of the exiles saw themselves as British purebloods. And how long the distinction would remain. Out loud she said: "The Dark Lord seems to be focusing on the purebloods with his propaganda."
"Well, the half-bloods certainly wouldn't want to return to being second-class citizens," Ginny said.
Hermione shrugged. She didn't share that opinion. "Some of them might not have taken well to the Wands no longer being obedient servants." Slaves in all but name, even.
"Their illusions have been shattered," Luna said. "They didn't consider the fact that Egypt was ruled by Mamluks at times."
"The Dark Lord can't promise half-bloods much though, not without losing support from the pureblood fanatics," Harry said. "Which is ironic, given his own parentage."
"You mean his naga ancestry? Or are the rumours true that he is not a half-naga, but is a descendant of a common grass snake?" Luna had pulled out her notepad and quill.
"I was talking about the Dark Lord being a half-blood," Harry tried to explain.
"Of course. Half-wizard, half-naga. Or half-snake." Luna smiled brightly. "We'll have to publish this new revelation about him possibly faking naga ancestry. Maybe the naga houses will take steps to punish him for this transgression against their honour!"
Hermione exchanged a glance with Ron, smirking at Harry's expression. She doubted that nagas read The Quibbler, or would care, but stranger things had happened. Which reminded her of Sarah's troubles. "How's your godfather doing?"
"Chasing your leader," Harry said. "According to him, quite successfully." He frowned. "She's not the vengeful type, is she?"
"She's a Wand." Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Do you think he's toying with her feelings?" Why else would he ask that, she wondered.
"I don't know," Harry answered. "He hasn't had many relationships that lasted longer than a few weeks."
"Not many that lasted longer than a night, you mean," Ginny added, scowling.
"That's not true," Harry retorted. "That's just what the witches who expected more than he ever promised claim."
"Daddy says that a wizard will settle down as soon as he has found the right witch, but not before," Luna said.
"Well, Sirius certainly is looking very hard," Ginny said.
Harry frowned, but didn't contradict his girlfriend.
Ron chuckled. "Who knows, maybe Sarah is the right witch for him. Wands certainly are great witches," he added, with a smile to Hermione.
She smiled back. Then she sighed. "No matter what the nature of their relationship, they face trouble though. Rumours claim that Sirius is seducing her to use the Corps for Dumbledore." She caught Ron wincing, and nodded.
"Rumours among the British purebloods, or among the Wands?" Ron asked.
"Both."
Harry scowled. "If Sirius hears this, he'll be even more determined to chase Sarah. I can already hear him declare that the Dark Lord will not be allowed to ruin his chances with a witch."
"Voldemort probably wants that. It plays right into his hands," Hermione said. "Adds credibility to the stories."
"Why doesn't anyone suspect that Sarah's seducing Sirius to control Dumbledore?" Luna asked. "It sounds rather unfair!"
"It's rather far-fetched." Hermione knew all involved reasonably well.
"That never seems to matter where rumours are concerned," Ron said.
He was correct, Hermione knew. And, she realised, that might help Sarah. At least with the Wands who might take offense at a pureblood exile trying to seduce the Wand-Commander.
London, Ministry of Magic, October 1st, 1999, 15.30 hours
Albus Dumbledore was right on time for his meeting with Wand-Commander Sarah. There was not a minute to be wasted, in his opinion, not with the Dark Lord on the run. A cornered beast was usually twice as dangerous, after all. Sirius was with him. The younger wizard had insisted. Albus hoped there was more than just stubbornness and wounded pride behind it, or the animagus's presence might turn out to be more hindrance than help.
Sarah received them in her office, in the company of Benjamin and two Wands serving as guards. Miss Hermione wasn't among them. Albus hadn't expected her - news of her relationship with young Mister Weasley must have made the rounds, and even if there was no suspicion on her, as Albus had heard, Sarah would not be the leader she was, had she placed the witch in a position where she might have to choose between betraying her love, or her family. Or Sarah might not trust the witch. He hoped for the former.
"Good afternoon, Wand-Commander."
"Hello Sarah." Sirius sounded more subdued than Albus had expected. Not boisterous or defiant.
"Professor Dumbledore. Sirius." The Wand-Commander's voice was even. Guarded. "You asked for a meeting to discuss the next steps in the war against the Dark Lord."
"Indeed." Albus smiled, managing - or so he hoped - to turn it from a diplomat's smile into a honest one. "The recent attack on Diagon Alley proves that even when forced from his last hideout, he is still a danger to Wizarding Britain that will only grow stronger and more powerful given the opportunity. He cannot be allowed a moment's respite."
"The attack also has revealed unrest among the population. The British wizards do not trust the Corps as much as they did in the past. And at least a part of them has grown suspicious of you, sir." Sarah stood straight, and met his eyes without flinching.
He was tempted to read her mind, to discern her true thoughts from what she would use to sound him out, or as a bargaining ploy. He didn't, though. He had already strained their trust in him, perhaps even broken it. Another transgression would utterly shatter it, no matter how convenient it might be in the short term. "That is true, but the purebloods' fear of us - of us both - will not be laid to rest if the Corps focuses on keeping the peace at home. They are manipulated and encouraged by the Dark Lord; removing him from the picture will do far more to quell such unrest than anything else." Without Voldemort, they'd not see any way to defy the Ministry.
"Do you consider the British purebloods so easily led astray then?" Sarah asked.
"In a word, yes." Albus snorted. "They haven't really impressed me with either wit or spine. Unlike the Wands." He didn't like to make this about blood, but Wizarding Britain had been taught for a generation that blood mattered. It was rather ironic that Lucius's lies would turn out to be proven correct in such a twisted way, with the muggleborns' blood now mattering since it was the reason for their training and upbringing.
"That sounds like flattery," Benjamin said.
"You haven't heard much flattery then," Sirius answered, apparently taking the other wizard's words as an invitation to enter the conversation himself. "The best flattery is the truth," he added with a smile towards Sarah.
The Wand-Commander didn't react, not visibly at least. "Leaving that aside, having us deploy in force to fight the Dark Lord will leave most of Britain defenseless. How can you know that the Dark Lord is not planning on this?"
"We can track him wherever he moves to," Albus assured her.
"Your spy was killed," Sarah said.
"I did not rely on Severus to track the Dark Lord," Albus said.
"You either have another spy, or… the boy!" Benjamin exclaimed.
Albus nodded. Another of his secrets revealed. "I do not have to tell you that revealing this would endanger both Harry and our best strategy."
The Wand-Commander nodded and Albus hoped her frown was due to her considering his advice patronising, and not because she felt distrusted. "If we strike at the Dark Lord, then there need to be some changes to the plan we used before."
Albus kept his smile from widening. He was now certain she'd agree. "Of course. What do you propose?"
An hour later, the meeting had turned into a planning session, a very productive planning session, in Albus's opinion. Sarah's proposals had been as ruthless as he had expected, and entirely suitable for dealing with Voldemort and his followers - although dealing with the Horcruxes would still require his personal intervention. Albus wasn't about to share that secret with the Wands. Not just because of the danger of Tom finding out about his knowledge, but because the Wands' training had left them a bit too prone to using the Dark Arts, in Albus's opinion. They were not dark wizards and witches, but they freely used certain tools most would shy away from. Another problem to be addressed after Tom had been dealt with.
"So… with that out of the way, do you fancy a cup of tea together?" Sirius smiled at Sarah.
The wizard obviously either didn't notice, or ignored Benjamin's frown, Albus thought. Knowing Sirius, he would be betting on the latter, were he prone to gambling. He wasn't that fond of Sirius' flirting himself, but at least the wizard had waited until they had come to an agreement about their attack on Voldemort.
Sarah hesitated, though after a glance to Benjamin, she pushed her chin forward and nodded. "I think I do."
"Splendid!" Sirius offered the witch his arm, though that just earned him a raised eyebrow. The wizard didn't seem to let that deter him though.
Albus turned his attention to Benjamin. The leader of the Investigative Branch of the Wands of Britain was both smart and influential, and his reaction to Sirius' courting of the Wand-Commander might be illuminating. A faint shaking of his head was the only visible reaction to Sarah and Sirius moving to the teapot in the corner giving Albus no further clues to his opinion. The wizard might disapprove of the match because Sirius was a pureblood, or an exile. It might be due to Sirius's character - Harry's godfather generally took some time to get used to, more so for wizards. Or it might be due to the Wand harboring some feelings for the Wand-Commander himself. Albus chuckled, ruefully, at the realisation that he might have been able to solve this puzzle, had he been more interested in gossip.
Benjamin hadn't missed Albus's reaction, and his frown grew more pronounced. "Do you think this is amusing?" he asked in a voice low enough so it wouldn't carry to the couple in the corner.
The professor shook his head, and answered in a similarly low voice: "Not in particular, though young people in love is a sight I am quite fond of."
"He doesn't look the type to be in love. Or not for long," the Wand commented.
"I wasn't aware you knew him," Albus responded mildly. "Unless you base this judgment on certain articles in the press."
"Do you claim that his reputation is entirely the work of journalists with an overly active imagination?"
Albus sighed. "No. But those articles were, at best, sensational. While Sirius certainly appreciates the witches, as the saying goes, he does not deceive them about his intentions." Not to Albus's knowledge, at least. "The Wands do not strike me as the sort of witches who would read more into a wizard's courting than was intended and offered."
Benjamin didn't comment on that, but asked: "And what does he intend?"
"That," Albus answered, "I think is a question best asked to the two directly concerned."
From the way Benjamin's frown deepened, the old wizard deduced that such a question wouldn't be asked anytime soon. At least not to Sarah.
London, October 1st, 1999, 19.48 hours
Ron Weasley found Harry and Ginny in a rather sombre mood when he arrived at the safehouse. He wasn't surprised - Dumbledore would have informed Harry about the attack planned for the next day as soon as possible. His sister and his best friend were holding each other, and barely moved to greet him.
He sighed, sitting down on an old armchair. Hermione should be joining them in a bit. She was stuck at the Ministry, preparing for the attack, or so he assumed - she hadn't gone into details.
After a minute or two without any word from the two on the couch, he cleared his throat. "I can leave, or you could move to the bedroom."
That earned him two glares. Progress, of sorts.
He held up his hands. "Sorry."
"No, you're not," Ginny claimed. "But keep it up, and you will be."
"Save your anger for the Death Eaters," he shot back.
"I've got enough for everyone," his sister said.
"While I know better than to try and get between two Weasley siblings in a fight," Harry said, "Now certainly is not the time."
Ron nodded. "Sorry. Just…" he trailed off.
"Jittery about tomorrow?"
"Yes." He sighed. "Sort of."
"You've been in battles before," Ginny said, almost accusingly.
"Yes." With his real identity now known, he would be able to fight in the upcoming battle. "But I've never fought in a large battle. And not with the Wands."
Harry understood. "You want to be with Hermione in the battle."
"And I don't know if I can, or should." He sighed again.
"Did you ask her?" Ginny sat straighter in Harry's lap.
"I haven't had the opportunity yet," Ron admitted. Or rather, he hadn't thought to talk about that, despite knowing that there would be another battle.
Ginny shook her head and muttered something Ron was certain was a rude comment about boys, or about himself. Louder, she said: "Well, ask her. Then you'll know."
He almost snapped back that Hermione would need to be here to be asked, but held his tongue. Losing his temper wouldn't do any good to anyone.
He didn't want to think about it, but this could be the last evening for one or all of them. He'd rather not spend it arguing.
The Weald, Kent, Britain, October 1st, 1999, 22.17 hours
The Dark Lord Voldemort carefully closed the door behind him before climbing down the stairs to the lowest level of the basement. No one but him had ever set foot in this room. This laboratory, to be precise. He looked around. The spells had kept the room in the same condition he had left it, decades ago. The massive marble table. The oaken shelves, crammed full of notes and tomes thought lost by most. And the circle etched into the polished stone floor, lined with silver and the remains of red candles, and caked with dried blood.
He had worked great things here, crossed boundaries few, even among the most infamous dark wizards of the past, had even dared to approach. And in his brilliance, he had succeeded where so many had failed before him. And after all this time, he had finally a use for his creations.
He opened the door at the other side of the room, revealing a long tunnel lined with alcoves on both side.
A flick of his wrists, and the figures in the alcoves started to move.