"Trying to fit sixteen of us in the one room always feels a bit like overkill," Marietta commented, summoning the basket of crisps to herself from the other side of the room.
"Luckily," Fred responded, "since Jake's not here this week, we've only got to fit fifteen of us in the one room."
"All better, then," Marietta said, making a face in response to Fred's wink.
"On the subject of Jacob," George cut in, "We got a rather ominous letter from him, detailing his concern that something's coming. He says his father's been having meetings at their house and that whatever they're planning is probably related to a separate plan for an Azkaban breakout." At this news, the room quieted, all of the members of the self-titled "Guard" turning to give George their attention.
"He told us to be aware, and to check in on Harry—"
"—Which is easier said than done," Fred cut in, "Seeing as we aren't supposed to be near him—"
"—But we did anyway, and he seems to be doing as well as could be expected," George concluded.
"What we're more concerned about—obviously in addition to whatever Jake's dad and his mates are planning—is Jake himself."
"I was surprised that his parents let him home, after he helped with the fight in the forest last year," Rissa said, frowning. "But he said they didn't mention it all last summer or over the Christmas holidays, and his mum is the one that's been insisting he stay around home so much."
"Which doesn't bode well," Andrew said, and Marietta could read the concern in his face. "My dad tried to get me to come be with him when he was trying to make me join the Death Eaters. There's no actual evidence that Jake's dad is one, too, but there's a hell of a lot of reasons to assume it."
Everyone seemed to be processing what this could mean for Jacob Urquhart—it was not a pleasant thought to dwell on.
"Well," Cedric began, "It would be stupid to ignore Jake's warning, but we should also keep that concern in mind—" here, he nodded to Fred and George. "Luckily," he said, grinning in Marietta's direction, "there are fifteen of us, so we should be able to divide and conquer a bit. If we divide into three groups, we can have five people on each front—watching Potter, keeping an ear to the ground for any rumblings about a possible attack somewhere, and keeping eyes on Jake so we can pull him out of his house if we need to."
"We'll be on team watch Harry," Fred volunteered. "Since we've got information from Order meetings too."
"I'll be with them, so I may as well be on Potter watch, too," Lee said, which for some reason made the Twins grin. "And Kim and Gil would help to have around, since he's in the Muggle world with his aunt and uncle—magical transportation and muggle liaison office will be good ones to have on it."
"I'll watch Jake," Rissa volunteered. "My parents might say something about him before something happens."
"Corrie, Andrew, Marietta, Angie, and Ced, you should listen for any news about some big event. You're most likely to hear something. And Katie, Patty, Kim, and I can join Rissa, since we'll all be around here if we're needed to jump into action." The others nodded, at Jack's plan, Katie giving a thumbs-up.
"Before we go on to the next order of business," Cedric said, "Has anyone noticed anything strange or concerning recently?"
Marietta knew she should be paying attention to what was being said, but all she could focus on were the serious faces in the group sitting around her—even the twins and Lee Jordan were carefully listening and nodding along to what was being said, and usually quiet Gil Ossett was detailing a recent piece of information that had passed through the Muggle Liaison Office as though he was reporting to a superior officer.
We shouldn't be soldiers, she wanted to scream, we just barely got out of school. It had been a year now, for the oldest of them, but that wasn't enough. She had read, recently, a history of the first wizarding war, and it had been harrowing: Lily and James Potter, of course, dead at 21. Marlene McKinnon, dead at 20. Frank and Alice Longbottom, tortured until they were non-responsive at 22. Gideon and Fabian Prewett, dead at 25 and 26. Benjy Fenwick, Dorcas Meadowes—and the list went on. How many had died, trying to save their world? And how long had the peace they'd achieved lasted—twelve years? Thirteen?
And now the members of the Guard were taking their places on the front line, ready to kill and die in the name of freedom, their lives being given to a fight that belonged to the generations before them, in which they'd been forced to choose a side.
Marietta wasn't naive enough to believe that life was fair, but she was angry enough to complain about the fact that it wasn't.
"…thanks everyone. Now Lee, you said you had something?"
"Right, thanks. Do you lot remember those old radios the twins and I had?" Lee paused and got general assent, then continued. "Well, I pulled them out back in January and started working on expanding the spell so that everyone could hear it, if they had the right code word, adjusting the spell that we used with the Herald. I've only done a few test runs with George, but I think I've got it working. It's a contingency plan, really—a news source in case everything falls apart. We figured that the Prophet is in the hands of whoever controls the Ministry, so it would be good to have a station that's separate from them."
"How would people know about it?" Corrie asked. Lee shrugged.
"Word of mouth—we tell the Order, they tell anyone they think needs to know. It's the sort of thing that spreads pretty quickly. And we don't want to be too obvious about it, anyway—it wouldn't do to give the other side a target."
"Does it have a name, or are you expecting people to call it that-station-the-bad-guys-don't-control?" Katie asked.
"He's already said the name," Fred said, looking deeply offended.
"Honestly, don't you lot listen?" George followed up.
"Apparently not," Jack said, his voice dry, "but we'd be delighted if you informed us, I'm sure."
"Well, we don't want heat on ourselves, obviously, and we don't want to put it on someone who is currently flying under the radar, like a member of the Order or one of you," Fred said.
"And naming it after Dumbledore seemed like it would just remind people that he wasn't around anymore," George added.
"So," Lee butted in, "When I was choosing the name for my radio station that you two are only going to be making guest appearances on, I thought there was only one place I could turn: the Boy-Who-Lived himself. I played around with some names, but eventually I landed on the perfect name—simple, catchy, and straight to the point: Potterwatch."
"So…you're going to be watching Harry Potter?" Marietta asked, and Lee shrugged.
"Sort of. Hopefully we won't have to use it at all, but if we do, the idea is to give updates on what's going on, including giving people the reminder that Harry Potter is still out there fighting You-Know-Who. He really doesn't deserve the weight of that, but people have faith in him, and they need something to hold onto. So…it's more that we're reminding people that Harry's there to watch than actually watching him ourselves."
"It's good to be prepared,"Andrew said, "But I agree—hopefully it won't be necessary."
/
"Any updates on the plan to move Harry?" Angelina asked, and everyone turned to Lee and the Twins, the only ones privy to the Order's plans. Fred made a face.
"There's a plan, but it has about five steps and twelve people too many for my liking."
"Normally I'm a fan of complex plans, but this one feels overcomplicated," George confirmed, looking none too pleased himself.
"The Order doesn't trust the Ministry," Fred explained, "so they've decided that the only way to get Harry to our house secretly is to fly him to a secondary location and then take a private Portkey from there."
Kim frowned. "Why do they have to take him somewhere first if he's using a Portkey anyway?" she asked.
"Because they're planning to leave the day before his birthday," George told her, "to throw off the Death Eaters. Only, that means that if they leave from his aunt and uncle's house, they'll set off the Trace, and the Portkey won't be private anymore. If they do it from within a witch or wizard's house, the magic will cover for the signature."
"Won't someone just be able to watch and follow him?" Andrew asked, feeling increasingly unsure about this plan, especially in light of Jake Urquhart's warning to watch Harry.
"They would," Fred agreed, "Only there's going to be seven of him, with seven different companions. Mad-Eye's giving six of us Polyjuice, and we'll pretend to be Harry." There was general silence, and then Gil interrupted it.
"Well that's dumb as hell—you're more likely to be attacked doing that than if you just fill out the paperwork for a Portkey with the Ministry."
"I'll make the Portkey," Kim offered, and everyone stared at her. "I'm authorized—I'd just need a signature from someone in the Muggle Liaison Office, and Gil can do that. As long as it's been registered by the office during official activation, it won't set off any alerts. And if the paperwork is misfiled—or, Merlin forbid, burnt away in a sudden and inexplicable fire that lights on my desk, leaving no one able to read the start or destination of the portkey—it doesn't make any difference whatsoever. It's the keying that matters, just like in wards, and that's done when we activate it."
"It's true," Gil confirmed, "I've signed the papers a few times over the past year, too, for Muggleborns and Half-bloods visiting family. There's not a certain person in our office that needs to authorize them, and no one looks too hard at the forms anyway."
"I can get it done Monday," Kim said, "and you can tell the Order that they should stop making plans that put thirteen more people in danger than necessary."
/
The wooden door looked as though a good hit would send it bowling down, so Kim knocked very gently on it before pushing it open.
"Yes, hello—what's happened now?" A man she knew by sight to be Arthur Weasley asked her. Kim checked to make sure she'd closed the door behind her, then held out the scarf she had in her hand.
"I have the Portkey you ordered, Mr. Weasley," she said, and he reached out to take it, eyes suddenly bright with understanding. "And the paperwork—I'll need a signature, if you don't mind."
"Of course, of course," he said, and grabbed a quill from his desk to scrawl his name.
"Right, then—let me activate it for you—it's set to leave tomorrow at nine o'clock pm and arrive at the house of Edward and Andromeda Tonks, is that right?" she asked, though she knew it was. The Order, though willing to change their plans, hadn't been willing to send a Portkey straight to the Burrow.
"That's right," Arthur confirmed, and Kim set to work enchanting the Portkey, ending with the flourish that imprinted the seal on the form on the scarf, giving its users Ministry clearance. Once the bond had set, she stepped back from the desk.
"Is there anything important in that bin, Mr. Weasley?" she asked, pointing to the metal wastebasket at the foot of the desk.
"No," he responded, looking bewildered, "nothing I need."
"Excellent," she said, and sent the official form into the bin with a flick of her wand, then promptly set the whole thing ablaze. In a matter of seconds, the papers were reduced to ash. "What a shame," she said. "Seems a hassle to remake the form—I think I'll just call it good enough." She vanished the ashes and nodded to Arthur Weasley.
"Have a good day," she said, and strolled back into the hallway of the Ministry, trying to look casual and not betray how fast her heart was pounding.
/
That night, the first more widespread test of Potterwatch was performed: at nine thirty, Lee Jordan reported to the listeners of ten radios scattered across London:
"A rousing success—if I wanted the program to literally live up to its name, I could send a twin to barge into their younger brother's room and report on the lightning bolt on his friend's head. But he's really a shy boy, so I'll leave him be."