Remember What I Forgot

by AlwaysThatGuy

Ten years after the defeat of Voldemort and fall of Harry Potter, footage emerges of a friend long thought dead. Finding him alive and unaware of his past, Hermione does what she does best. But with other factions in play and with nothing as it seems, how far will she go to find out the truth of what happened? H/HR.

18. Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

Thursday September 10th, 2012

The first person that emerged from the ominous blue smoke that filled Diagon Alley was marching with a single-minded purpose down the Alley, and past the two men.

This wouldn't have been strange behaviour on its own, as many people were in a hurry as they moved about their business, but this warlock was mumbling incoherently to himself.

"Just like wands they are. Yes. Wands. Yes, they are. Just like wands."

He repeated it. Over and over again.

His eyes were also wide and vacant. His skin pale and clammy. His robes were dishevelled and covered with dirt, ash and what could only be blood.

And half his face dripped with blood from an open wound along his forehead.

It was enough to slow them down from a full-blown run to a cautious walk. They did not know what they were heading into. They just knew that somewhere in the billowing, heavy, thick blue smoke, were the sounds of screams and the din of chaos.

They had their wands out as they moved, more carefully now. They couldn't see more than a metre in front of them as each step was taken with more trepidation than the last.

Ron swore when his boot came down on a can that rattled loudly as it was sent flying across the alley and presumably into a wall. Draco gave him a look. Ron just nodded that he was okay, and they pressed on. They tried to move as quickly as they could, despite the rising fear in their guts.

Not that either man would show it to the other. Not that Ron would let on that he was afraid.

Draco was the same. They had too much pride for that. Too much pride for either of them to stop. They knew they had to press on, so press on they did.

It was through the first set of smoke, when it had slightly started to clear out when they got their first actual viewing of what they were walking into.

It almost brought them to a halt.

There were bodies on the street. Some were motionless on the ground, and uncommonly for the dead in the magical world, they were surrounded by halos of blood that spread out and ran down the cobblestones.

Not to say that gory and ghastly deaths didn't happen, of course it did. Especially in crimes of passion. But most of the time, proper Dark Wizards just gave you the green dream and you were done. No mess.

This was a mess.

They weren't all dead. Some lay with horrific wounds, open chests and arterial bleeds. They were screaming the human screams of sheer desperation that pierced Ron's soul. But he couldn't stop.

Even worse were those who still walked. They staggered around, mindless in their shock and their horror. Some bled. They bled from horrific wounds that had not yet registered in their minds. They did not register the fact that they were doing their best to hold their insides where they belong.

It was likely a small mercy that they did not recognise this fact.

Others didn't bleed, they just stared around them as if they were unable to comprehend what was going on. As if the horror was too much for them. As if they had broken, which they very likely had.

But he couldn't stop. If he stopped now, then he would be tending to more wounded later. There were just too many of them, and the two wizards needed to get to the source.

So, he moved past them, offering them a silent apology that he knew they couldn't accept. There was nothing he could do for them.

They moved back into the blue smoke and pressed on.

Draco didn't seem to react at all as he too moved further along the Alley, and deeper into the blue smoke. Ron almost envied the man's ability to switch off his emotions like that. He wished he could switch off the fear in his gut. The utter feeling of it being all so very, very wrong.

The blue smoke began to clear as they pushed up the Alley, and they could see further. It provided no comfort, as the blue smoke was replaced by grey and black plumes that billowed from Ollivanders.

The entire upper floors of the store were ablaze. Fire leapt from the upper windows and with an eager hunger, seeking the bright fresh air of the Alley to fuel its insatiable need.

Both men paused to look at the wandmakers shop that was ablaze. They were awed by how the flames danced merrily from the window. How this fixture of Diagon Alley, the finest Wandmaker in Britain, and possibly from the world, had had his shopfront and workshop torched just like that.

It was as though someone had destroyed something sacred. It was not the done thing. It was against the rules.

It hadn't been seen since Voldemort had last risen to power.

Both men emerged from the blue smoke and into the open.

And that's when all hell broke loose.

There was a roar of explosions in front of them.

Ron only just managed to grab a hold of Draco and tackle him behind the outcropping of a storefront before the air he had previously occupied filled with lead. They crashed down onto the cobblestones, hearing the snaps and hisses of the rounds that passed by them.

Rounds that continued to fill the air next to them as both men tried to regather themselves.

Rounds that came from the firearms of the group of men who were standing outside Ollivanders.

Ron was thankful as the rounds hissed past them in cover and cracked against the stone, for his reflexes, born of years of duelling and training. They had come just in time to save both of their lives.

He had just never realised how loud war with muggles could be. His ears rang from the gunfire.

Muggles? In Diagon Alley?

Ron crawled further behind the out cropping as several rounds cracked on the outside, spitting bits of spark and stone.

"What is the point of having an entire Corps of people entrusted in the defence of this world, if they aren't around when you need them to defend it?" He heard Draco spit as he angrily rubbed his cheek.

His perfect pale skin was split open and blood rushed down from a cut that had been opened up from a chip of stone that had been a result of the incoming fire.

Ron had time to send him a quick look, before casting a shield charm and sticking his head out from behind the outcropping.

He saw the flash of the shield as a series of bullets struck it.

There were seven of them located about 50 metres away.

They were all dressed identically in grey. From head to toe. He could see they wore grey helmets on their heads, and big bulky masks on their faces that had a pair of grey cylinders attached to the outside. Ron didn't know what they were, but it did a good job of hiding their faces and making them look less human.

But the rest of them, from what Ron could see, was muggle military gear. He remembered briefly again, for the second time in several weeks, the rudimentary training he had received on Muggles.

They wore big bulky vests which were covered in all matter of neat and tidy equipment and pouches.

Emblazoned on the front of these vests, Ron could just make out one word.

"Police."

Ron saw enough that they were in positions of advantage. They were all behind the cover of columns or in door frames with long sight lines from where they had positioned themselves. They could effectively cover themselves, and all the way down the alleyway from where they were set up.

Ron knew that his chances of hitting them at this distance were slim. They were all behind cover and he had to try and be accurate while casting spells that required wand movement. They had all the advantages, and Ron had none.

Ron sent a quick Reductor curse as the stone column one of the muggles was using for cover, but it harmlessly bounced off. The reinforcement of Diagon Alley at work.

He cursed out loud. It could never be easy.

The klaxon sounded again drowning out all the noise of the street.

He pulled back behind the cover and sent off his patronus to Robards.

He wanted to send "Where in the bloody hell are you?". But he didn't. He was more polite to his boss, despite having to hide the bubble of fear that had built up inside of him.

"We're outnumbered." He said to Draco, accepting that the situation was far out of hand. "And they have the advantage of range and cover."

Draco nodded, his face contorting into a sneer. He was unhappy about his cheek, and it showed. Whether this had been compounded by the fact that it had been muggles who had caused him the damage, Ron couldn't say.

And he didn't have time to speculate.

Ron noticed that the bullets striking the side of the outcropping were being fired at measured intervals and from different places. It spoke to Ron of training and discipline. That was less than ideal. It was very much less than ideal.

For about the millionth time in his life, Ron wished that Diagon Alley was not covered with an anti-apparation bubble. He could really use the sudden appearance of an army of Aurors and Hitwizards just arriving all over the place and hitting at the entrenched muggles.

But it was not to be. That couldn't happen. The wizarding community had decided it would be safer that way.

Ron did not feel safer. Quite the opposite. He felt very bloody far from safe.

"Right." Ron said, thinking quickly. "I don't know where our back up is, so we're on our own for now. We need to do something here; we are sitting ducks." As if to prove his point, another round struck the stone next to him.

"I'm going to case a shield charm and move to the far side of the alley behind that shop front there." He pointed to a shop that was adjacent but in front of the shop he was behind. "While I do that, I need you to give them something to think about, got it?"

Draco nodded to him and gripped his wand in front of his face. He closed his eyes briefly and Ron got the impression he was calming himself for what was to come.

"Ready?"

"I'm ready, Ron."

"Good." Ron spared his wife and his unborn son a final thought. He hoped with all his magic that he would live to meet that boy inside of her. He made a silent promise to himself that if he got out of this one, he would never ever let the boy down. Ever.

"Go!"

XxxxxxxxxxxxX

Thursday September 10th, 2012

"Have you seen my car keys?" James called up the stairs to Hermione.

He was greeted with an incoherent reply.

"What?" He yelled back.

He was greeted by another incoherent reply, that he swore was even softer than the last. He shook his head and rolled his eyes. James didn't know why she would do that. Why she would reply at a tone even softer than the one she had previously used. Didn't she know that he shot guns for a living? And that those guns were loud?

She knows. She knows better than anyone. Better then absolutely anyone. She saw. She saw so much.

She saw too much.

He shook off the unbidden thoughts and made to continue his search. He had spent just enough time dwelling on those topics for one day, thank you very much. His keys had to be around here somewhere.

James hated losing things. He loathed it. Part of his military experience had instilled in him a sense of always placing things back where he found them. Of using an ordered system. Everything within its place. Like how his keys went on his key loops that sat near the door. Key loops that were frustratingly empty.

That's what you get for not putting them there. You've never let fatigue stop you before.

He cursed himself as he walked into his sitting room.

Which was when it called to him.

Not in a literal sense. Not in a manner that it was yelling out to him from across the living room, shouting at him as it danced around him doing the cancan. It was more that its presence called to him in his mind.

He knew it was there. And it seemed to know he was too.

His wand.

He paused as he looked at it. As he stared at it. He could almost feel the warmth of it. He could feel it from across the room. He could almost feel those stars that shot from the end of his wand when he waved it aimlessly, just the night before.

Had it truly been the night before? It felt like last week.

It was awake. It was present. It was there.

Like a zombie, and without a single conscious thought he moved to the mantlepiece and picked it up. He felt it in his hand. The polished wood handle. The power that seemed to emanate from it. The force that he could feel flowing from it as he held it.

It felt comfortable. It felt solid. It felt right.

And like that, voices danced through his head. They were quick and they were distorted. Some voices he recognised. Hermione's, Ron's, and his own.

Some he did not. A stern female voice with a Scottish brogue. A squeaky male. A kindly older man.

A young, but desperate man.

A man whose voice was so drawled in arrogance that it made James get his back up, just by its mere presence.

The words were latin. He didn't understand them. Not in terms of translation. But he understood them in terms of what he could do with them.

He didn't know where they had truly come from. Whether they had come from the deep recesses of his own missing memory, or if they were left over from Hermione's' mind, and his brief excursion in there.

He shook his head. In that moment it didn't matter. Because the voices that swum in the back of his head seemed to tell him what to do.

They knew, and because they did, he did.

He knew. He knew what to do. He just didn't know how he knew.

James took a firm and knowing grip of his wand. He thought of his keys of all things.

And Hermione's voice entered his brain again. It was soft. It was tired. Tired and happy. "I really think you've got it!". The voice rang with delight.

He looked at his wand once more and shrugged.

"Accio Keys." He said. His voice was hardly that a combination of determination and want. It was more half uncertain and half confident. A strange mix of knowing how to do something without knowing how to do it.

A feeling that was odd to anyone but James. To anyone who had not lived their life with that sense of unknowing.

And he did it.

His car keys flew from the kitchen and he caught them easily in his hand.

He stared at the keys as they nestled in his hand. He felt their familiar weight, their hard exterior. He felt them as he squeezed his hand around them and the reality set in.

He had done magic. Intentionally.

"How did you know how to do that?" Came the same voice that had previously bounced around his head. However, this voice was real, and it was tangible. It was coming from the entry to the living room.

He spun and saw the voices owner. She had her arms folded across her chest and an eyebrow raised. Her mouth was pulled up into a soft smile. A smile that spoke of pride and wonder. A smile that had a small degree of hope behind it.

He smiled back at her and shrugged, his wand in his hand falling easily by his side.

"I don't know. But something tells me you might have played some part."

Her small smile bloomed out to cover her face and she rushed around the lounge, throwing herself at him. She hit him like a freight train, and it was a miracle he retained his footing.

He caught her as her arms wrapped around him.

James had a thought then, that maybe Hermione had secretly trained in a manner of grappling or wrestling in her time. Because the strength she could summon to wrap around his body, pushed all the air out of his lungs and left him breathless and feeling like he was being compressed.

It was his experience that most people generally had to cut off an airway for that kind of sensation.

"Hermione. I'm going to need to breathe at some point!" He gasped out.

She sobbed, but she didn't let off.

He chuckled as he hugged her closer and kissed the top of her hair. He would let her have this moment. She deserved it.

He ran his hands over her back and held her close. He could feel her relief as he held her. He could feel in her that there was a newly found gleam of hope. Like he now had the tools to survive. Like he had gotten exactly what he needed.

A part of him held that he had gotten that when she had come stumbling back into his life. But he suspected she knew that from the things she had seen in his mind.

The intoxicatingly flowery smell of her hair filled his nostrils and he sighed. He loved that smell. He loved her hair.

He just loved her.

She finally looked up at him and James could see that her eyes were lined with tears. Her face was streaked with the marks of those that hadn't been caught up in his shirt.

"I'm sorry." She whispered.

"No, you aren't." He said back with a smile. "And I don't think you should be."

She smiled. A sad, watery, hopeful smile.

For a moment, all the trauma that had come spilling out that morning was forgotten. For a moment it felt like he hadn't been to war. And for a blissful moment it felt like they would share in that moment for ever. That she was Hermione Granger and he was James Black. And they were two blissfully happy people.

"Can I ask you something?" He said, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Of course." She replied, a small smile on her face.

"Any chance you're interested in giving some pointers to the Knights defence for the rest of their season? If they tackled half as well as you, they would actually win some games."

Hermione smacked him on the chest with a smile. "You're an idiot. You know that right?"

"Well, I didn't think I was." He said, smirking at her when he couldn't quite pull of the wounded look that he was going for.

She shook her head. "Should we be getting to the hospital?"

"We should." He said and gave her a quick kiss.

She smiled another watery smile, and embraced him again. He smiled into her hair as he ran a series of kisses along her crown. It was a nice moment. It was a moment that existed free of the morning, free of the outside, and free of the all the stress that waited for them outside the front door of his home.

It was just a nice moment between two people in love.

A moment of course, that had to end.

They had to get to the hospital. They had to go see Lucky. At least they had to separate for a good reason, not a bad one. Lucky was awake. Lucky was back. He could make things right with his best mate.

"We have a lot to talk about, James Black." She said to him, her voice heavy with happiness, but cracking with a sob. "How you remember how to use your magic could be important to getting your memory back."

"Add it to the list?" James said lightly. His mood for a deep conversation right there being short. It had been one hell of a morning. They had already felt, seen and talked enough.

He really should stop thinking things that would tempt fate, because at the moment the doorbell rang.

It was loud and clear and echoed through the house.

He turned to look at this front door. He wasn't expecting anyone. He let out a thoughtful breath.

"Coming!" James called in an easy-going voice, before walking over to his bag that had been placed next to the fireplace and digging out several items that was hidden there.

Hermione watched him. He could feel her disapproval as he pulled the items from the bag.

He easily placed the slide back upon the receiver with practiced hands, keeping it locked back.

The magazine fed straight into the Glock and he released the working parts, quickly conducting a press check to make sure the round was seated. It was not that he didn't trust Glocks -he did- it was more that it was a learned behaviour, and it wouldn't be undone.

He gently slid the pistol down the back of his jeans and approached the door.

It was with a slight moment of surprise that he realised his hand was shaking. A small hit of adrenaline flowed through him.

And he shook. James never shook.

He understood adrenaline induced reactions to stress. But he had never really had them. Never really had the shakes, or the vomits that often occurred after such a situation. But here he was. Like a leaf in the wind.

Concerning.

He paused. Taking a moment to flex and unflex his hand, before giving it a shake. He cleared his mind from the bubbling thoughts that threatened to sneak back into his mind, unbidden and unwelcome. He didn't have time for them right now.

He didn't have any time at all. He had spent enough time with them for one day. For one year.

For the rest of his fucking life.

He let out a breath.

"Who is it?" Hermione's voice called from the entry to the living room, as she leaned against the wall.

James turned to her and offered her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "I may have been a wizard once, but even I can't see through wood. Unless you know a spell for that? Something tells me you might."

He made the joke as much for himself as for her. Something to keep it light. To remove the tension that was building in his chest. To calm himself down.

She gave him a look. A look that said she was unimpressed. A raised eyebrow and a half-rolled eye.

But the hint of the smirk was all he needed as encouragement.

Fuck I love that woman.

He saw she was holding something in her hand. A long piece of wood, half concealed against her side.

"I can't tell who it is." She said, giving him a look.

Great minds think alike.

He raised his forcibly stilled hand and he opened the door.

XxxxxxxxxxxX

Ron cast the strongest shield charm he could and sprinted for all he was worth.

Draco, for his part, stepped out and there was a loud bang. Ron had to turn his face away from where the muggles were to avoid a blinding light that had been cast from the end of Draco's wand. It didn't last very long, but it gave him a small amount of time.

Time was everything.

Draco followed up with a series of stunning spells that he shot towards the muggles who were hiding behind the shopfronts.

Ron tried not to look at them, as it caused the panic to rise amongst his fear to see the muzzle flashes of the rifles as they fired at him. And fire at them they did. He could feel it in the pit of his stomach to see those flashes and know that he should be dead. That each flash sent a little metal bullet at him.

And that those bullets were only stopped by a simple charm and strength of will.

And the volume of fire was awesome. Not in the sense that it was wonderful or cool, but in the dead set awe he felt as a number of muggle guns turned towards him and flashed. They had recovered very quickly from the shock of the bright light and the cacophony from Draco's initial spell.

The stunning spells landed all around them, and Ron glanced over to see how easily they would adjust their position from behind cover to stick out from different angles and return fire, never giving Draco a clear shot at what they exposed.

They moved easily behind the cover to fire at Ron.

His run was probably only four seconds, but it felt like a complete eternity.

He began to see the flashes of his shield charm. He felt the impacts against it. Felt himself continue to pour more and more of himself into the charm in order to keep it strong and prevent anything from penetrating the shield he kept up.

The shield that was saving his life.

He heard the little snaps as the bullets travelled close to him. He didn't know it, but it was the sound of them breaking the sound barrier on their deadly journey through the air. It was likely a good thing that Ron didn't know it, because then he would know how close those bullets had to be for him to hear it.

Way too close.

His final few steps into the shop felt like they took as long as the rest of the journey. But words could not describe how thankful he was as he finally made it into the shop and heard the smashing of glass as several rounds followed him in. Thankfully none hit him.

A shop keeper and several customers were lying on the floor. They were cowering and crying.

The loud, deafening gunfire had them lying down and holding their ears.

"Auror! Auror!" Ron screamed at them. "Stay down and be prepared to cast shields. We will have you out of here as soon as we can!" He yelled at them.

He didn't know if he was trying to convince himself, or the people in the shop. Likely both.

He still hadn't heard anything back from Robards or any other Auror.

Where in Merlins names are they?

He moved to the wall and tried to catch his breath. Ron was not unfit, but his breath came in gasps and the adrenaline flowed through his veins.

He looked over and saw Draco was still behind cover, casting stunning spells at the muggles, who were continuing to maintain a constant stream of fire that made it harder for him to move and to cast.

Ron knew that Draco should cast a shield, but it would greatly hamper his ability to use his offensive magic. Ron had to respect the man's bravery. He was gambling his own protection to use offensive magic against the deadly accuracy of the muggle return fire. He hadn't given even the slightest sign of fear, even though he had plenty to lose.

He cast another shield to protect himself as he looked over at the muggles who had invaded Diagon Alley.

He was again greeted by several bullets that hit his shield. This was getting out of control.

Ron offered a soft thanks to Merlin that the muggles appeared to be content to stay put. They weren't pushing it, nor were they attacking and seeking victims.

It was almost like they were on the defensive. Like they were guarding something from their positions scattered around Ollivanders.

But why would Muggles want wands?

His mind ticked over it. Was this a mission to get wands, or to deny wands?

He stowed it. He didn't have time to worry about the ultimate strategy of their mission, he had time to worry about the tactics of the assault. He had time to worry about how they were going to repel it.

The overall strategy didn't matter in that moment because he could reach several logical conclusions. They had reached their objective. And they would be looking to escape after. Ron knew that they hadn't brought enough manpower to launch a serious and sustained assault on Diagon Alley.

He also knew that the point of the attack was not to just cause carnage, if it was, they would still be moving and they would be still seeking victims.

But they weren't. They were stationary. This was a raid.

This was more than just proving to the magical community what muggles could do. Much more.

And Ron wanted to know why they wanted the wands.

So, what was he going to do about it?

He again chanced a quick look before he was forced to duck his head behind cover. But that look made him see something that stood out to him.

Well, it stood out against the series of grey dressed muggles who were shooting up the centre of commerce and trade of Wizarding Britain, of course.

It was one of the muggles. He was hovering around near the entrance to the shop. The bottom floor had not yet caught fire, and he seemed to be hanging around near the door as if waiting for something.

Ron fired several stunning spells towards the closest muggle in order to give him something to think about. They didn't hit, but he managed to bounce one off the outcropping that the man was hidden behind.

He had enough time to see the man hop deftly back behind cover, but when he popped back out, it was at a different height, and even less of the man was exposed.

And he sent a series of bullets flying at Ron that caused Ron to dive back behind cover.

That had pissed him off.

Ron took a leaf out of their book and rolled out to the side with his shield in order to get a better look. He cast his eyes back down to the one by the door. He was pacing back and forth. There was something about him though.

Something that just seemed a bit odd. Like the man wasn't as comfortable as the others.

Muggle gunfire forced him back behind his cover and into the store.

He pulled out his coin and sent another message.

Where in the name of every hair on Merlin's face, is every other bloody Auror?

As if on cue, a silvery hippogriff bounded out of nowhere and arrived at Ron's side.

He heard Robards gruff voice come through the beak.

"Hold fast, Weasley. I'm bringing in reinforcements. We are using floo's and portkeys to get most of the teams out at Gringotts and we will move to reinforce your position. Another team will deploy from the Leaky Cauldron. We will meet them in the centre."

Ron sighed the greatest sigh of relief he could. Help was on the way.

But a thought occurred to him. If they came from either end of the alley, they would be playing exactly into the muggle hands.

They had both sides of the alley well and truly covered. Ron was hardly able to poke his head out without someone trying to blow it off. If the Aurors came charging up the alley, they would play straight into those open fields of fire.

The Aurors would be required to scatter and would be out of range to truly cast their best offensive magic at the longer ranged Muggle guns.

Think Ron. Think!

And think he did.

A plan began to form in his mind, and he thought of his soon to be born son as he sent a Patronus to Robards.

It had to work.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

"Mac?" James asked with surprise.

"How are ye, James?" Said the big man in his brogue.

James smiled at the big man. "On your way to the hospital aswell mate? Need a lift?"

Mac looked at him with an unreadable expression. "Aye. I'll be heading over in a wee minute. Just thought we might have a yarn before."

"Sure mate, anything, what's this-"

James's words fell to naught as he took in the fact that Mac was not alone.

Two men were standing back on his front lawn. They didn't look nervous, or shy. James could tell instantly that they weren't the type of men who weren't even the slightest bit concerned about offending him or causing him a reaction. They knew him.

And he knew them.

Well, they had met. They had met some time ago.

A decade ago, in fact. Probably not far off bang on a decade ago.

James cast a filthy look at Mac before he stepped out onto his porch.

"Detective Inspector Thompson and Detective Sergeant Piddle." His voice betrayed no emotion in his 'greeting'. "All's well from Scotland Yard I trust."

"Corporal Black." Rufus called back, his hands not leaving his coat pockets. His voice was even and calm. "Always well in Scotland Yard."

Paul said nothing but gave him a nod.

James gave him a slight twitch of his cheeks that could have been misconstrued for a friendly smile, if it had been friendly, or if he had actually smiled.

"It's actually Detective Superintendent and Detective Inspector now." Rufus said lightly. James could see the hint of friendliness in his eyes. He was attempting to alleviate the tension.

"Onwards and upwards then, eh?" James said sardonically.

Rufus played into the little game. "Of course. No higher though, Any higher and I'm a politician. And Paul is off the tools."

James nodded with a small mirthless smile. "Any higher for me and I'm an administrator."

Rufus gave him a friendly nod of the head.

James turned on his heel. The pretence dropped. The game ended with a growl.

"What the fuck is this, Mac?"

He turned to look at the big man. Mac didn't baulk under James's angry glare. He just fixed him with a steady stare back.

"A yarn." Mac said, by way of answer.

"Something you are well known for then?" James said sarcastically. He turned back to the two Policeman on his front lawn. "A yarn, or another interview?"

"James." Hermione's voice led her out onto the porch. "Is everything alright?"

James turned and looked at her. She had one hand in her jacket pocket, and James knew it would be tightly gripping her wand.

"Good question, Hermione." He turned to the two Policemen standing on his front lawn. "Is everything alright?"

"It's just a conversation, Corporal. That's all."

James tisked out his mouth as he took the whole situation in.

He glared at Mac, who stood evenly on his feet with his arms crossed across his chest. It was not in an aggressive way, far from it, but in a comfortable way. Mac was seldom uncomfortable.

He turned back to Hermione. "The Police have come to visit us Hermione. Aren't we blessed? All the way from London."

Hermione raised her eyebrows as she looked over at the two men who were standing on the lawn.

"Oh."

"Oh, indeed." James said, venom dripping from his voice as he turned back to Mac. "I don't know if I am too keen on another interview thank you gentlemen. Good to see you after so long though."

His eyes didn't leave his big friend, who did nothing more than slightly cock his head.

"I'm calling in an '07." Mac said, looking James squarely in the eye.

James could feel the anger building up inside of him, ready to burst. "An '07?"

"Aye."

He let out another long and slow breath between his teeth as he stared at his mate.

"An '07? For these two?" James asked, a mix of anger and incredulous.

Mac nodded.

They stared at each other for a very long moment. Neither the big man, nor the shorter man willing to back down from the stare. A stare of mates turned hostile.

Finally, with a grimace, it was James who broke. He had no leg to stand on here. Mac had said the magic words. He would honour his word. Mac knew it, and so did James.

"Well get the fuck inside then."

He turned and looked over that the two policeman who were standing on his lawn.

"Coffee or tea?" He said, turning and walking back into his house without even waiting for an answer.

If nothing else, he would always caffeinate his guests.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

A grey clad figure came running out of Ollivander's and took an unsteady knee next to the pacing man. He had a large backpack on and Ron would have to be as dense as a troll to not know what was in there.

Wands.

Ollivander's wands.

The best wands in the business.

Ron shot several stunners at the muggle soldier who was closest to him. He had to duck away behind cover again as several bullets followed him up. It was worth giving the soldier something to think about.

Ron knew he had to stop the man with the wands. He didn't know what the muggles wanted with them, but he knew that it couldn't be anything good.

He popped out again to send more spells and jinxes flying at the muggles. He stuck mainly to stunners though, he needed them immobilised and unconscious. He needed them away from their weapons.

He also needed them distracted.

Between Draco and himself, they were doing okay. Neither had been shot, which Ron thought was a nice change, but then, they hadn't managed to immobilise any of the muggles either.

And it was then that the rest of the team decided to show up. And in force.

They advanced up the alley in pairs. One Auror moved forward with a shield up, protecting themselves and their second, who was casting like mad at the muggles from behind the magical cover.

It was some relief then when the muggles shifted their fire towards the approaching Aurors, Hitwitches and Hitwizards.

But Ron noticed that they didn't just shoot rapidly and desperately. They still fired measured shots at the advancing DMLE people.

Bloody Hell!

Ron took the moment to look again at the two grey clad figures that had caught his eye. The taller one, that had first caught his eye had turned and was shooting at the approaching Aurors.

If it hadn't been for the fact that the other muggles were clearly disciplined and well trained, he might not have caught it. But it was the differences that separated the tall man from the other muggles.

He just seemed less – controlled. His movements, compared to the fluid and smooth actions of his mates, were more janky, less practiced. He didn't seem comfortable with his weapon, unlike the other muggles.

Ron had a suspicion about him. And he was determined to find out whether he was right.

He shot a few stunners of his own towards the man, and was greeted by some return fire, but It missed by a wider margin.

But as he popped up again to send spells, the muggles started to move.

One at a time, and with a continuous stream of fire, one man would break cover and sprint back to another bit of cover. A second man would cover the first as he moved.

Ron was impressed. It meant they could move and keep the Aurors slowed up at the same time.

And they had chosen to move early. These muggles knew they had the advantage of distance. They knew they could accurately shoot a lot further then Aurors could accurately send spells, and they were taking full advantage of this.

The Aurors continued to push up the street. Ron glanced out and saw that they were almost in line with Draco and himself. This was good. This would mean he could push in and join the attack. Pushing the muggles back to where they could be contained.

He took the advantage to cast a few stunners towards the withdrawing muggles. He didn't manage to hit any, but he managed to get close enough that they had to duck back behind cover.

He ran out through the now shattered window of the store and bolted to a nearby column, seeking cover behind the stone. He cast several more stunners, careful not to expose himself anymore than he had to.

One of his stunners managed to bounce of the ground right next to one of the muggles, who leapt behind a column of his own.

Ron sent several more bolts of light flying at him to give him something to think about.

It enabled the Aurors to push forward, working in pairs, one behind the shield, one sending a steady stream of stunners, jinxes and curses at the withdrawing men.

"Draco!" He called across the open Alley.

Draco turned to him, having heard him over the din.

"The tall thin one!"

He saw Draco pop out then step back behind cover. He nodded to Ron.

He sent several stunners towards the man in question, who leapt behind a storefront and out of sight.

Ron popped out to send his own stunners when one of the muggles popped out of cover with his weapon held slightly elevated. Ron could tell, even from the distance, that this weapon was different.

It had a larger barrel then the others, and when it fired, it didn't lead off with a deafening crack like a person apparating, but more of a dull, deep, whump sound. It was joined by several others.

Ron saw a cylinder bounce of the store near him. It was shortly followed by two more.

"Watch out!" Ron screamed as he dove back behind cover to avoid the cylinder, half expecting it to explode.

But it didn't.

It popped.

Ron saw white smoke shooting from the bottom of the cylinder. He glanced over to see that the others were doing the same.

The muggles were using smoke as obscuration to cover their escape. The wizards needed to push through and keep up the pressure.

Ron turned to the advancing Aurors, who were wary of the white smoke that shot from the cylinders.

"Push through! Don't let up! Keep the attack going!"

Ron sprinted from cover with a shield up, to lead by example.

It was when he first inhaled the smoke however, that his mistake had become clear. It was not smoke for obscuration. It was gas.

His eyes immediately began to water and itch. His skin crawled as if it was being bitten all over by insects.

He coughed and he spluttered. A disgusting array of snot and phlegm built up in him and he began to spit on the ground.

"Watch – " he coughed out. "Watch the smoke." He screamed desperately. Trying to hold his breath enough not to breath as he ran through.

Merlin's long white curly bloody beard!

Ron desperately cast a bubble head charm on himself, which provided some relief.

But now his head was covered and he had no means of removing the gas from his skin or his eyes. He coughed again and spat, disgustingly, on the inside of the bubble. He could see his phlegm and snot dripping down it as he desperately ran to a nearby bit of cover.

Bloody Muggles!

Ron cursed out loud as he undid the charm and shot water on his face. Desperate to clear his eyes enough to see.

He could see the other Aurors emerging from the white smoke having similar effects.

They couldn't see. They were struggling.

Ron had a moments realisation of absolute horror.

"GET OUT OF THE STREET!" He screamed.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

Thursday September 10th, 2012

"Thank you Corporal." Said Rufus, as James set a mug of tea in front of him, and another in front of Paul.

"James." He said with emphasis. "I've never gone by rank before, and since this is just a 'yarn'," James glanced at Mac whose mug looked like a child toy, clutched in his big fist. "Why don't you call me that."

Rufus nodded back. "Rufus then."

"Paul."

"Mac."

"Hermione."

"Well, aren't we all just getting along famously." Said James sarcastically as he took his seat and reached over to Hermione, taking her hand.

He felt her reach out and begin to stroke the back of it. It provided him a measure of comfort. He had no idea that physical comfort could be so relaxing for him, but when Hermione did it, it was.

He looked over at her and met her eyes. There was concern there. But she offered him a gentle smile and he returned it. A hint of warning danced briefly in her eyes.

They sat there awkwardly for a moment as the Police sipped their tea. James, Hermione and Mac sipped their coffee.

He then asked the question that he was torn about.

"Should Hermione be here for this?"

James didn't want her to leave. She had been his rock. But if this was about military business, having her around while she was not involved may seem suspicious. It may seem that she was as involved as she actually was. If nothing else, he wanted to maintain the illusion for as long as possible that Hermione was just a doctor that he was madly in love with.

She would never, ever be 'just' anything. But they didn't need to know that.

She disagreed. He could tell. He could tell by the fact that her nails were biting into his palm, and he wouldn't have been surprised if they drew blood. He had to fight to keep the grimace from his face as he felt like his hand being crushed by her grip.

How did she get so bloody strong?

He looked over at her and her expression was clear. She was not going anywhere.

Stubborn witch.

"Aye." Mac said. "I think she should."

Her hand let off the pressure. Just. He felt the feeling begin to return to his fingertips. He didn't give anything to hint as his pain, instead choosing to look at her again. She had raised an eyebrow at him, and there was a glimmer behind her eye. It was almost smug, but there was a hint of concern to it.

Why would they want her here then?

"Right." He said finally and took a sip of his coffee. It was time to push forward. "Have it your way then. Been spying on me long, Mac?"

He turned back to a man he had thought had been his mate for a long time. He wanted to move the conversation along. He had another -actual- best mate to visit.

Mac didn't react in any visible way to any person present at the table, except for James. He was offended. Briefly.

"I ain't spying on ye pal." Mac said. "I'm keeping an eye on ye."

"Same thing."

"Nae." Mac said. Fixing James with a glare of warning.

He felt Hermione squeeze his hand in warning and he could almost tell her thoughts. "Please don't punch on with another one of your mates in your back yard. I just healed your lip after the last one."

He'd be three for three in less than a week if he did.

"James." It was Paul who spoke. James turned his head towards the big burly cop who was cradling his cup of tea. "Perhaps you might let us explain, then?"

"You had best." James said. Earning his hand another squeeze from Hermione. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like one of my best mates has been spying on me for Plod for the last, what, eight or nine years."

Mac again fixed him a glare that only James could read. He knew there was warning there, but he didn't care. They had been through absolutely everything together. Everything. They had been through '07.

And now he was claiming it for him to listen to what the Police had to say.

"Perhaps." Rufus said, speaking at last over the brewing tension. "I might begin, and we can catch each other up to speed. We aren't here to accuse you of anything, James. In fact. We are here because we think we might be able to help each other."

Hermione spoke next. Clearly, she was with Rufus on this. She had had enough of the barbs that they were throwing at each other.

"I'd be interested to hear what you have to say, Rufus."

Rufus fixed her with a smile. It was a knowing one. A knowing smile that James rapidly disliked.

What does he know?

Rufus took a sip from his mug, with an almost dramatic flair. Then he began to speak.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

Ron's warning was not quick enough for Dartmouth.

The Hitwizard took two rounds to the chest that sprayed blood out behind him as he collapsed. His head hit the ground with a sickening crack as he fell.

The other Aurors and Hitwizards scattered for what cover they could find.

The fallen man coughed up blood from his position on the ground.

Dartmouths second, Bicksly, glanced over at his fallen partner and desperately ran over to him. But he took one in the leg as he did so. He collapsed on the ground and screamed as his leg sprayed with blood.

They weren't far. If he was quick, Ron could get them.

Ron desperately cast a shield charm and ran over to Bicksly, who was closer, and dragged him back behind the cover he had just sought.

The volume of fire as he moved was phenomenal, and he had no cover. The rest of the Aurors and Hitwizards were back and stuck in the gas, or too busy trying to clear themselves behind cover to advance.

"Stay down Dartmouth!" He screamed to the man who gave no indication that he could hear. He gave a faint gurgling sound as his only reply.

He quickly cast a charm that cut the bleeding off from Bicksly's leg. Ron could see that the blood had covered his pants and had hit his Hitwizards uniform coat. His blue coat had been splattered with the bright scarlet that had sprayed from his leg. He needed to get him to a healer and quickly. That charm wouldn't hold and it wouldn't heal. But it would stop him losing any further blood, and lessen the pain, for now.

Ron took several deep breaths and cast another shield. His strongest yet. He ran out and grabbed Dartmouth and dragged him back behind the cover.

It was difficult. He was doing it one handed as the man was limp and could prove no assistance in the effort. He had left his spirit on the cobblestones where the rounds had penetrated his flesh.

Ron dragged him, watching and feeling the bullets bounce off his shield and hoping against his own magic that he had the perseverance to pull through. To pull this off. It wasn't in Ron's nature to leave them there, vulnerable and screaming.

At least the witches and wizards he had passed earlier had been free of further threat as they were around a bend from Ollivanders and out of the line of fire. The fallen Hitwizard had had no such luck.

He thought of his son. Not yet born. Not yet here to know his father. Not yet in life, still in the womb of his beloved mother, and Ron's beloved wife.

He needed to get back to them. He needed to return. He needed to be there for them. He needed to meet the boy.

It was what kept his shield strong and unpenetrated as he dragged the man behind cover.

Would he have red hair? Would he be all Weasley? Or would he be a Lovegood, blonde and aloof?

In that moment, he really didn't care. As long as the boy was happy and healthy, his mother too, that was enough for Ron. Ron didn't care if the child was sorted into Slytherin, or if he hated the Cannons. He could do all that, and Ron would love him all the same.

Ron just wanted to be there to love him.

Ron focussed on that as he continued to drag the limp Dartmouth back to cover. He used those thoughts to ignore the flashes of his shield, to ignore the drain that they took upon his energy as he fought to keep the charm up and active over the impacts.

Ron didn't even know if he believed Dartmouth was alive. He couldn't hear if he was still gurgling over the din of the gunfire. If he was, he was well beyond the healing ability of an Auror. Trauma of the muggle kind to the torso was not strongly emphasised in the medical teachings at the Auror academy. Healing of the magical injuries however, was.

And these injuries were not magical.

That teaching mentality needed to change, and quick. Especially if battles like this were going to become a part of life.

Ron got him back behind the cover and lay him next to Bicksly, who had stopped screaming as the pain relief charm had done something to dull the agony.

"Look after him." Ron barked.

He sent several more stunners down towards the muggles.

"I need to move." He was drawing too much heat on the wounded. He needed to push forward and keep the pressure on them.

And move he did.

He kept up his pursuit of the muggles down the Alleyway. It was imperative he stayed on them. If he stopped, it would all go to hell.

The plan would fail. And Ron didn't even want to think about what would happen if the Muggles managed to break free.

Ron knew that right now the Muggles were making a very good account for themselves. They had just severely wounded two Hitwizards, and all the attacking muggles were still up and running. It was two nil. If something wasn't done to arrest their movement and pin them down, then they would have the momentum and the freedom of movement. The raid would be a success and it would send shockwaves through the world of magic.

The magical community would lose faith. They would lose faith in the ability of the Auror Corps to protect them.

Then the world would get even more complicated. Witches and Wizards loved nothing more than taking things into their own hands. It accounted for roughly half of his caseload.

Ron took cover just in time for several more bullets to strike the shopfront he was hiding behind. He looked over and saw that Draco had advanced on the other side of the street and was not far behind him.

Grouped nearby were about three Aurors, their blood red coats standing out against the drab of the Alley.

Two uninjured Hitwizards were further down the Alley on Ron's side. Their blue coats recognisable, and the bubbles on their head still firmly in place. He couldn't blame them, whatever that gas was, it had been awful.

He looked down the Alley and saw that the muggles were continuing in their determined withdrawal back towards The Leaky Cauldron.

Good.

Now he just had to hope that everyone was in place.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

Thursday September 10th, 2012

When Rufus had finished his story of stickmen, disappearances and strange happenings, James remained silent.

Hermione fidgeted in her chair. She had always been muggle minded, having lived in the best part of both worlds for most of her life. She had to have known there would be some impact on the muggle world, but perhaps she had never taken a moment to appreciate just how much it could have happened.

Perhaps she should have done something about it.

No.

She had to quash those thoughts. She had done her part. Muggles were living healthier, longer lives because of her work. Because of the programs she had started that enabled healers out into the muggle hospitals in order to determine better practices and promote joint learning.

Not to mention the 'wonder drugs' that had found their way into the muggle pharmaceutical world. It had been her compromise, and her life's work.

Stopping attacks on muggles by wizards was the path she had not taken.

James looked thoughtful and took another long sip of his coffee. He didn't know it all. He didn't know everything. But he knew enough to know that he had some answers to some of the questions.

Some.

"You're concerned it's all starting again." He said finally.

Rufus nodded.

"And you kept tabs on me because of all this?" James said to Mac. Who gave him a slight nod.

"Seemed like the right thing to do."

James nodded again.

His anger had cooled somewhat. It didn't burn away in him anymore at the betrayal. The practical side of him, the commander and the soldier, understood. He would have done the exact same thing. He would have kept tabs on the person who was responsible for the end of such a war.

In fact, James thought that it would have been a dereliction of their duty to do anything else.

He didn't exactly know what to say, so he took another sip. He wasn't yet ready to pay them that concession.

"You've every right to be pissed, James." Paul said, breaking the silence that had fallen over them at the table.

James didn't reply. He would let the big man speak. He didn't seem like a man who minced words.

"But you should be most pissed off at me."

James cocked his eyebrow at that.

"Do you know why they let you enlist in the end?"

James shook his head slowly. "I figured they got bored and gave up."

Paul offered him a small grimace.

"I have two siblings. A sister and a brother. My brother, at the time, was a Squadron Corporal Major of the Life Guards." He explained. "He later became the Regimental Corporal Major. He has spent his whole life in the Household Cavalry. His whole adult life."

Hermione knew enough to follow, but not much more than that. She knew about the SAS, but the other Regiments were all still a mystery to her. It was true, Hermione Granger did not know everything.

Just most things.

"It means he has lived, worked, and served with whole bunch of officers. Officers who are a something of somewhere. Sons of the gentry. Sons of the nobility. They still have pull."

Hermione snuck a glance at James. He was paying rapt attention. Mac was still unreadable to her.

"As powerful as MI5 is, and powerful they are, even they are not immune to some politics. So, some favours were called in, some promises made and some back-room deals sorted. End result, you took the queens shilling."

James fought hard not to show his emotions. He had had no idea that this had happened. He had no idea that the man before him was a large part of what had ended his torture at the hands of the government.

That Peyton had done this for him.

He wanted to be grateful, but it felt hollow. It felt empty. He didn't know exactly how to feel about that.

Bit of that going around at the moment.

"Thought I was helping. But I'm starting to figure it, that maybe we played right into their hands, yeah? Because suddenly you were getting places. You made the Regiment. Won the medal. So that's what they got. They got a war hero. A war hero they could use."

Paul looked at him, dead in his eyes. His brown eyes bore straight into James.

"They turned you into a bloody weapon. And a weapon you are. Aengus has told us that Mrs Jones seems to have made it all personal like, using you for your current jobs."

James's turned towards Mac.

"Aengus." He breathed. "No one calls you that. The only reason I know your bloody name is because I have to fill out your reports."

Mac nodded. "My family does."

James's eyes shot between Mac and Paul. "Family?"

"Aengus is my nephew. He's me sisters' son." Paul said.

"Ah." James said. And the understanding started to flow. It started to make sense now. "So, family connections got you to spy on me?"

"I kept an eye on you, pal. Made sure you were alright is all. Kept an eye out for any stickmen that might have come and caused more trouble. And it seems that the stickmen are back, don't it? That's who we've been fightin'. That's who near as to succeeded in killin' Luck."

James gave him another long look and took a sip. He decided to change track.

"None of this answers my question. Why is Hermione here?" James asked. A coy question, but he had a feeling they were arriving at the point.

"Because she's clearly a stickwoman."

James felt Hermione's grip squeeze his hand. Mac didn't mince words. He never had.

"Right. Why-"

"And you're a stickman."

A pause settled over the conversation as James looked at Hermione. Hermione looked at James.

They had a silent conversation. Having been in each other's heads that morning had led to them examining each other and hoping they were reading the other correctly.

"I saw you reach for Luck, pal. I saw him flash before those green flames hit him. Like something protected him, shielded him. You forget I was there?" Mac said, with almost a hint of sarcasm in his tone. Almost. "And he was as fookin' close to death as they come. So, you come out pal, and you tell us to guard the hospital door. You stay in there with Hermione and Peyton. Next thing, he's going to be fine. What kind of baw juggler you take me for?"

James stared at him. He felt like a moron. Mac had been in the Regiment for longer than James. He was a smart man who said very little. He noticed things. He was and had always been, a highly perceptive man.

And James had completely underestimated him.

"MI5 now has them a weapon who happens to be able to do the things that the people they be fighting can. They got a stickman on their side. Leading one of their teams."

James thought on that. That part had started to rub. Really rub.

"Look, James." Rufus said with a carefully controlled tone. "No one's here to bring you in over this. As I said, I think we can help each other. That's what we are here seeking. Help."

"What sort of help?" Hermione asked.

"I swore an affirmation when I joined the job that I would enforce the law and work to make the community a safer and better place. It has been my life's work to do so. But all through the last, 'war', if that's what you want to call it, we were helpless. We couldn't do anything."

He fixed James with a long look.

"Then along you came, and it all stopped. And we can go back to normal, you disappeared into the Army. Then you come roaring back onto the scene – in an entirely dramatic fashion, I might add – and so to do these stickmen."

James said nothing.

"I'm only seeking the ways and means to protect the community from these events. From disappearance and memory losses and the deterioration of mental health of otherwise perfectly sane people. I am seeking to stop any collateral damage for these wars that happen amongst the secret peoples."

James turned and looked thoughtfully at Hermione. She raised her eyebrows to him.

Rufus meanwhile turned over to Paul, who gave him a nod.

It was as though he reached a decision. He nodded back to Paul.

"On Monday, six members of the CT SFB Branch of SO-19 went missing."

James shot Rufus a look.

"Define missing." He breathed out. "Missing presumed dead, missing presumed defected, What?"

"Missing as in missing."

"How do you lose half of a Police tactical team?" James asked.

Rufus shrugged. "We don't know. They signed onto the range as normal for a live fire training exercise. They answered their first two hourly checks to range control. After they missed two more, the range master went down, and they were gone. Completely gone."

James felt Hermione squeeze his hand.

"Even their vehicles were gone. All their gear, weapons, everything. It's like they just disappeared. Except it's a live fire range. There is one road in and one road out. And range control sits on that road. There's no way they would have gotten past them without being seen by a person or a camera."

James shot a glance to Hermione. This was not good. This was not even slightly good.

"James." Mac chimed in. "It was Monty's team."

"Fuck." James breathed out, tilting his head back and letting out a long sigh. "Fuck." He repeated really stretching out the syllables.

"A friend of yours?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah. His team was the last team that we ran training for. Just finished up with them before our last trip. They were a good team, solid blokes. Good lads, really switched on. We generally rotate around the teams for training so that we are all singing of the same sheet of music should a serious CT task ever happen."

Hermione nodded. "Sounds like one has."

James just nodded as he continued to stretch his neck. "It sure does."

"Monty is as solid as Sergeant as you will ever meet in SO19." Paul interjected. "I remember him as a young Constable. He's only gotten better."

James nodded at the assessment.

"Anyone else"

Rufus nodded.

"There have been some disappearances. And not just from the Police. Many of them are government workers. Bureaucrats and managers. I don't know how MI5 or MI6 have fared from all this. They don't exactly share."

James just nodded again. It was escalating. He didn't like this. He didn't like it at all.

But first, he needed to know something.

"How do I know you aren't working for MI5? How do I know this is not all a loyalty test from Mrs Jones."

Rufus took of his glasses and began to clean them with his tie.

"I honestly have no idea what she is up to. I have no idea what she is planning. Judging from what we have been told, it would seem to me like she is poking a bear that should not be poked."

He put his glasses back on.

"And if that bear attacks, someone is going to have to pick up the pieces. And that's where we come in. I just want to minimise any damage to the community, and to our people. I just want to save lives if I can."

James looked thoughtful. Mac leaned forward and stared at him, drawing his attention.

"If they're lying. I'll kill them myself."

Rufus gave a tentative smile. He didn't know if Mac was joking. James did. Mac was not joking. Not at all. Not even slightly.

"We aren't soldiers, James. We're cops." Rufus was urging him now. James wouldn't have said it was desperation in his tone, but there was something. Something pushing him. Something that was almost like need. "The last thing we want to see is violence on our streets, violence in our community. The last thing we need is another shadow war putting bodies on the ground. But if that is what is happening. We need to be prepared. We need to know what we are up against."

He turned to Hermione. She met his eye. He knew without asking that exactly what he was thinking about doing. Her lips pursed together, but she gave him a light nod.

"I'm sure there are laws against this." He said.

"There are."

"I'm sure we are bound by them."

"We are."

"What if I don't know or recognise them?"

Hermione gave him a slightly mischievous look.

"It wouldn't stop you even if you did."

James gave her a small smile back.

"What were you proposing, Rufus?"

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

He didn't have to wait long. They rounded the corner. The Aurors and Hitwizards continued to send a barrage of spells at the Muggles, forcing them to pick up the pace as they continued to move towards the exit.

They continued to keep a steady and controlled volume of fire at the advancing Magical Law Enforcement arms, but they were being greeted with enough return spells that the fire was less effective.

They were also getting tired. Ron could see. They had slowed somewhat. All the weight of that equipment and the heavy masks must have been dragging them down.

Perfect. Time, I need, and I need time.

They had been sprinting and shooting under stress for almost three hundred metres at this point. That would tire anyone out.

It had certainly exhausted Ron. Who had the extra pressure of managing a shield charm during his sprints between cover. Who had to keep applying stunning charms at the muggles. To keep them busy.

Ron managed to get close behind another concrete column.

He took a breath. Another. A long, deep breath. He filled his lungs up with as much air as he could. He let his magic flow through him. He let the magic and the oxygen blend to sustain him.

He creeped out from behind cover that only the bare minimum was exposed. He aimed at the nearest grey muggle. His hand was steady as he took careful aim.

They were maybe twenty metres away. A difficult shot when accounting for wand movement and casting. But not impossible.

"Stupefy" he whispered.

The bolt of red light shot from the end of his wand. Ron saw as the grey muggle turned to move further down the alleyway when the bolt struck him on the side of his vest.

He went completely limp as he fell to the ground. He didn't even raise a hand to ease his fall. He just fell. Face first into the ground.

Thank Merlins short and curlies for that!

His sense of victory was very short lived.

The remaining muggles sent a volume of fire at him that he had not yet suffered under. He had to cower back behind cover as bullet after bullet struck the stone barrier, sending sparks and chips flying everywhere.

They were clearly unhappy about his little victory.

And the bolt of red from his wand had really helped them identify where he was. Something they were taking full advantage of. He might aswell have shot out a big arrow that pointed back at him and screamed like a howler.

One of the muggles ran forward and dragged the other behind cover.

That would slow them up.

Ron watched as cylinder flew over from the shopfront where the stunned muggle had been dragged. It landed right next to Ron.

"Do they ever quit?" Ron whinged to himself as he cast a bubble head charm.

It was pointless though.

The cylinder exploded into nine explosions, sending flashes of light and deafening noise around the place.

Ron had to cover his ears as best he could from the charm as the grenade's explosions threatened to perforate his eardums.

It finally ended and all he heard was ringing. A ringing in his ear and a headache that made him feel like his head was about to explode. The concussion of the explosions had left him blinking and struggling.

Bloody, fucking, muggles.

He blinked away the concussion's aftereffects. Opening his mouth and extending his jaw as best he could to alleviate the pain from the grenade. He took a mental note. 'Silencio'.

He shook his head and deactivated the bubble. He needed to focus.

FOCUS

He chanced a look over his shoulder and around the stone column in time to see the grey suit sprinting away, as fast as he could with his mate over his shoulder.

He didn't have the time to aim, due to the volume of return fire that was keeping him behind cover.

But it was fine.

They were there.

Ron cast his shield and popped around in time to see the first muggles sprint into the three-way intersection that led down Knockturn Alley.

And everyone was in position.

Bolts of red light that were too innumerable to count flew at almost point blank range from the concealed Aurors and Hitwizards who had been lying in ambush for the retreating muggles.

Three dropped instantly, including the one carrying his mate. They fell to the stone in undramatic fashion. Face first. No attempt to arrest the fall, nothing. They were down, and they were out.

The remaining four leapt for cover and were saved by virtue of being further down.

One more went down as he dove behind cover, but was hit by a witch or wizard who was in Knockturn Alley, with a clear shot to the flank.

That left three of them. Ron was annoyed to see that the tall and lean one was amongst them. So was the muggle who had been inside Ollivanders. Ron just had time to see the backpack muggle leap through the shattered windows of the shop next to them.

Several red bolts followed him in. But Ron didn't think that muggle had been struck.

"Draco!" He screamed across. "The tall thin one! Now's our chance!"

Draco nodded and both men broke cover to get as close as possible. Ron slid behind a shop front and looked over to see Draco had stayed out of cover, his shield up as he advanced.

The remaining grey muggle was shooting at him.

Ron knew exactly what he was doing.

He was giving Ron a chance. He was providing the diversion.

The man was uncomfortable. His back was to a stone column that was located just before the intersection. He was protected from the ambush teams that had been set up. But he wasn't protected from Ron.

The wizard was looking frantically around for an escape. Ron knew that it would be next to impossible to get out now. They were covered on all three sides.

Ron took the chance that Draco provided. He leaned out and took a breath. He took aim. He took a long breath, and he cast.

The red light shot at the grey muggle.

Who quickly cast a shield that stopped the spell. The power of Ron's cast however, had destroyed the shield as quickly as it had been created.

That confirms that then.

Ron broke cover and began to cast spell after spell at the wizard, who was pushed onto the back foot. He had nowhere to go. His back was against the column, and if he tried to move, he would have been hit by the ambush team.

The wizard's wand moved with desperation as he tried to block the volley of quick, accurate spells that shot from the end of Ron's wand as he advanced. Ron had him dialled in. He cast stunning spell after stunning spell.

He knew he could send a series of jinxes and other charms, but Ron knew better. He had seen too many witches and wizards in his time try to get creative and showy when they were pressing the advantage. But the pause as they changed their spells could easily allow that advantage to slip away.

Ron would not make that mistake. Ron could cast good strong stunning spells all day. And the continued barrage of spells meant that the wizard was getting desperate in his attempts to block each spell as it hit.

The wizard had to get lucky each time. Ron just had to get lucky once.

The voice of his instructor at the Auror Academy resonated in his head. "If you're thinking, you're not casting."

The wizard tried something unwise. He started trying to shoot his firearm at the same time as he blocked.

He tried to do two things at the same time. He did both poorly.

The bullets went far and wide, and the attempts to deflect were getting more and more desperate.

So, Ron pushed it.

Step by step he pushed in on the wizard.

It was only when he was good and satisfied that he had the wizard right where he wanted him that he finally changed tack. He pulled out the good old 'Harry Potter' special.

"Expelliarmus!" Ron called, his bolt of red light striking the wizard on the wand. He was not prepared for it. Both the firearm and the wand came screaming out of the wizards hands.

The firearm clattered on the ground near Ron. And Ron managed to capture the wand.

As he took a moment to celebrate his triumph, he realised his own fatal error.

While he had been so caught up in his duel, he had failed to realise that he could no longer hear gunfire in the Alley. He could no longer here the last muggle firing on Draco.

But the gunfire had not stopped for the good reasons.

The remaining muggle had realised he couldn't hit Draco, so he had popped back behind cover and laid in wait. He had known Ron was advancing.

Ron had pushed too far. He had stepped into the sights of the last muggle. The muggle who was now over to his flank, with a clear shot. It would take too long for Ron to try and spin to cast a spell in defence. He wouldn't even be able to get his shield at the right angle. It was too awkward.

The world slowed right down. It all seemed to happen at an agonising pace.

Ron had time to see the muggle push the firearm in front of him in its journey to point at Ron's head. He could somehow make out the controlled motion as he brought the weapon to bear.

Ron could see Draco was sprinting forward, clearly realising what was about to happen, but with no angle to cast anything to stop the muggle.

Ron wasn't much of a gambler. But he had no choice. So, he gambled everything he had. He bet it all on the one thing he hoped against hope was true.

"Stupefy!' He bellowed at the disarmed wizard.

The bolt of red light shot from the end of his wand and struck the wizards with so much force it caused him to bounce off the stone pillar and slam into the wall of the shopfront that it stood next to. His helmet smacked into the concrete with a thud, and he slid own the wall.

He didn't move.

It happened so quickly that the muggle had only managed to get his weapon up. He could almost see the muggle's finger squeezing the trigger. It was slow. Agonising, painful, unbearably, slow.

He closed his eyes.

Ron thought of Luna. He thought of his unborn son. Of Harry. Of Hermione. Of his big red headed family.

He had no time to do anything else.

But the bullet never came.

Ron opened his eyes in time to see that the muggles weapon went slack in his hand. The man's eyes went wide behind his mask, just as Draco slammed into the side of him and knocked him to the ground.

Ron had been right.

Draco stunned him where he lay.

And the battle of Diagon Alley came to an end.

He didn't register the team of Aurors that approached the store front after the last muggle. He didn't register their entry, or the lack of gunfire that followed. Nor did he register that they came back out, alone. No muggle in sight.

The fatigue of the day hit him. Everything that had happened, everything that he had seen. The hollow sense of victory.

But Ron didn't feel any sense of relief. Diagon Alley had survived the attack. But who would survive what came next?

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

Still Thursday September 10th, 2012

"Well, look what the cat dragged in!" Lucky's accent reached outrageous levels as James rolled his eyes and Hermione shook her head.

Anyone would have thought that Lucky had just woken up from a good, long, refreshing, nap. One that Hermione could really use right about now.

When James and Hermione had finally arrived at the hospital, he was sitting up and he was animated. Lucky had his big trademark grin on his face and was as full of energy as Hermione had ever seen him.

"About time. I was beginning to think that you'd forgotten about your old pal Lucky!"

"Fuck me, you are already too much. This has been nice. I think we'll go. Good to see you Luck." James said in fake exasperation. Turning for the door.

Hermione swatted him on the arm.

"Don't be a prat, James." But her eyes gave away her mirth.

Lucky just laughed from the bed. "Ouch mate! You can't pick on me like that. I'm severely wounded remember? I nearly died in heroic fashion, diving in front of a bomb for my best mate. And when I finally come too, he wounds me like this. I shan't ever recover!" Lucky's voice was all humour. It was clear even to Hermione that there was nothing behind it. No barbs. No anger or disenfranchisement. Nothing. He was just that good humoured.

Lucky was Lucky. And after the day they had had, Hermione almost wanted to cry in gratitude. They needed his sense of humour right now.

She stole a glance at James. They could both use his lightness in the world in a time like this.

Peyton, who was holding Lily next to the bed, swatted Lucky in turn. "You said you weren't going to be a dick."

Lucky just laughed at her.

"Known me for what, seven years and you still fell for that? Jesus, woman. I thought you would have caught on by now!"

Peyton swatted him again. But she had a smile on her face.

"He woke up this full of energy. I don't know what you did to him Hermione, but feel free to undo it." Peyton said, giving Hermione a look of gratitude that was hidden underneath the jokes.

Lucky just grinned at everyone in the room. Nothing could break his mood.

His smile and his laughter was infectious, and Hermione could see James's face light up.

He beat Hermione over to his best mate and the clasped hands, before James leaned in and they wrapped arms around each other in a brotherly hug.

"How're you feeling mate?" James asked, marvelling at his recovered best mate.

"Mate, I feel unreal." Lucky said, clasping James on the shoulder. "Dunno what you did to me Hermione, but I feel sen-bloody-sational!"

His eyes left James and moved over to Hermione, who was standing back to let them have their moment.

She blushed under his gaze and shrugged. "I didn't do much."

"Pigs Arse." Lucky said with a big smile. He waved her over. "Well come over here then. You don't get to save my sorry arse without at least getting a proper hug out of it."

Hermione smiled and took her hug from the happy Aussie.

"Thank you." He said to her during the hug. His accent dropping away to normal levels and genuine gratitude infiltrated his voice. "For everything."

She pulled away and he gave her a look, before he shot a pointed glance over at James. He smiled at her. And she blushed right back.

"It was nothing, but I do need to run some checks on you now that you are awake. Make sure everything is healing nicely" Hermione told him as she stood up and took James's hand.

She smiled at the look he gave her. Hermione breathed a long and happy breath in that moment with him. She could almost feel how he felt. How strong his emotions must be behind his happy green orbs..

"Uncle Jim! Aunt Myne!" A small voice demanded their attention, and the new arrivals turned their attention to the happy little girl that nestled in her mother's arms.

"Lilymonster!" James said.

For a moment, just a moment, everything was good. Everything was great.

Hermione realised that she was beginning to live for those moments. Because everything was not good, and everything was not great. But in those little moments, she could pretend. She could forget about everything else and embrace that moment.

And she would live there.

But they would not last. And the highly logical and practical part of Hermione's brain would never truly switch off.

Even when she wanted it to.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

"I'm sorry, mate."

James said as he thrust his hands in his pockets while he stood next to his best mate. His head lowered. Hermione was talking to Peyton and Lily in the corner, being careful to give him the privacy he needed to have this conversation.

"Why?"

"What do you mean why? I nearly got your sorry arse killed?"

"And?"

"And? And? As hard as it is for me to admit, I am kind of fond of having you around."

James finally looked at his mate who was looking at him incredulously. Like he was apologising to him for something outside of his control. Like he was apologising for an economic crisis.

"Mate. Shut up."

"What?"

"It's not your fault."

"It is my fault. It's definitely my fault. You told me we shouldn't go in and I decided that we should. So, we did. And you nearly died."

Lucky looked at him. He gave him a long, searching look. Then his eyes narrowed. "What's up with you?"

"What do you mean what's up with me? I'm trying to apologise."

"Yeah, I get that. But there's more to this. What's going on?"

"What's going on is I didn't listen to you and you nearly died!" James said, fire rising slightly in his voice.

Lucky looked unconvinced, but he allowed it momentarily.

"What else were we going to do?"

James shrugged. "I dunno, alternate entrance? Call EOD. At least call in a specialist." James didn't know how much Lucky remember about what had happened. He wasn't keen to dive into that conversation. At least not yet. Besides, he knew a lot more now than he did back then.

Lucky snorted, before he broke out into a full-blown laughing fit.

"EOD? Ya kidding?"

James shrugged. "Why not?"

"Oh, I don't know mate, might have something to do with us being blown up by a floating green skull. I don't know that Explosive Ordnance Disposal exactly covers that during the training."

He put on a bad, stereotypical example of an upper-class toff accent when he spoke next.

"Rightio chaps. Next IED we will cover is a floating skull of light with a snake for a tongue. Best way to disarm this is really simple. All you gotta do is – "

Lucky paused for a second and he met James's eyes. They narrowed as they made contact. His voice returned to its normal level and normal accent as he continued. Almost as if what had happened in the shack had made its way back to the forefront of his mind.

"All you gotta do is raise your hand and use some kind of magic to protect your mate."

James just looked at him. He didn't know what to say. So, he said nothing.

But someone else did.

A woman. A woman spoke. A woman who had not been standing in the room just moments before. A woman who had entered in almost silence.

The last woman in the world that James needed to see at that particular moment.

"But Lance Corporal Brookes. That's exactly what needs to be done."

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

A/N:

Firstly, A very Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to everyone still reading. And a Happy Holidays to those who don't celebrate Christmas. I hope you've had time with your family in these uncertain times.

This was another long chapter, but I wanted to challenge myself by writing the 'Battle of Diagon Alley', to give my first example of a major skirmish between Muggle forces and Wizards, and how that may look from the Wizard perspectives. From what I have been reading in the responses to this work, people have been interested to see how that would play out. I hope you enjoyed it, because we aren't done.

As a note, it's my opinion (and my set up in this story) that Wizards would be pretty clueless as to the capabilities of Muggles in direct combat. So I tried to show that. But I tried to be fair to show that Aurors can adapt and have many tricks up their own sleeves. So hopefully that showed through for you all.

It was a challenge to write. And there will be fallout from this.

The old adage "Things are going to get worse before they get better." Comes to mind. I'll let you decided if they are going to get worse or better from here.

Sorry for the delay on this one, I truly am. It's that time of the year where Work kicked off to keep me busy, and then family time. Sprinkle in a little bit of writers block, to top it all off, but we got there.

Also these chapters are long, but they are what they are. I hope they keep you engaged throughout. I'm looking into getting a Beta, as the editing time of these long chapters is getting out of control.

Anyway!

I also wanted to offer my most heartfelt thanks for those of you who commented about the last chapter. That was a difficult chapter to write and the response seemed to be overwhelmingly positive. So my thanks to you for that!

Another big thanks to those of you who take the time to comment, review, favourite and follow. Honestly, you push me to continue to strive and deliver the best work I can.

Cheers,

ATG

PS: Aren't Thursdays just the longest days?