Adrian put on his most comfortable clothes, the ones he felt most able to move about in, and headed down to the kitchen.

"I don't suppose you've found a healer to bring along?" he asked as he entered the kitchen, and Sirius, Kingsley, and Lupin all turned to look at him. "I didn't know you were going along," he added to Lupin, who shook his head.

"We didn't, and I'm not—just here to be sure everyone who's going along knows the plan." The question was clear in his voice. Adrian rolled his eyes—though he was more scared than irritated, and he was pretty sure they all knew it just as much as he did.

"I'm only agreeing to this because Sirius said there might be civilians caught in the middle of things."

"There are," Lupin agreed, not acknowledging the rest of what Adrian had said except with a nod of his head. "Our reports say there are only two Death Eaters—we think one is Nott, and the other may be Selwyn—so help who you can while Kingsley and Sirius are getting rid of them. Ideally, that'll be over quickly and you can help anyone who needs it without worrying about them, but—" he shrugged "—no plan survives first contact."

Until now, living with them though he had been, Adrian hadn't really known who was in charge of the Order—he'd thought Sirius, or maybe Kingsley. But he had no doubt in his mind now, hearing the businesslike, yet still reassuring, tone Lupin used to speak about the war.

"Any other notes—er, Professor?" he asked, and was met with a smile.

"Only to stay safe, and that I'd appreciate it if you called me Remus—it's been four years since you were my student, after all."

"Right—I'll do that…Remus." It felt weird to say, and Sirius's snorted laugh didn't help.

"Be nice, Pads," Remus chastised, "And stay safe, all of you."

From there, everything moved quickly. Kingsley brought Adrian to their destination via side-along—since he hadn't been a part of any of the reconnaissance, it would have been risky, bordering on stupid, to try to apparate there himself.

Things were smooth, at first. Adrian ran a broad diagnostic spell, which he'd been practicing the past few days. It had been designed during the last war, to locate anyone who was injured on the battlefield quickly. He broke off from Sirius and Kingsley to knock on the door to the first house that got a read. When there was no response, he tried the door—locked. He checked the house with another spell, one which gave more information: one head injury, and a fairly severe case of blood loss. Not things which should be left untreated

Muttering an apology, he got to work unlocking it, working his way from Alohomora to a somewhat complex unlocking sequence they'd learned in arithmancy. This did it, and he slipped inside.

"I'm a healer," he announced, carefully making sure his hands were in view, so the residents didn't feel threatened. "I have blood replenishing potion, and I can do something about sealing those cuts, if you'll give me a look."

A man stood from behind the couch, trembling slightly as he rose.

"Give me the potion," he demanded, though his voice was too hoarse to be frightening.

Adrian pulled it out, setting it on the table near the door.

"You can take it, but I need to handle the cuts, too, or it won't do any good." He watched the man's eyes flick down to the floor, where the other injured person must be. Picking the potion back up, Adrian made his way over to the couch, trying not to flinch as the man pulled out his wand.

"Don't come any further!"

"I'm only here to help," he said, continuing to move forward. The wand remained trained on him, but the man didn't make a move to shoot. Finally, he was in sight of the floor, where a woman was lying, apparently unconscious. Bad, he thought, and immediately bent down to give her the potion. He had to use a spell to get her to swallow it, and did the same with a second dose before turning his attention to the cuts. They were deep, across her arms and back. He cleaned them first, and then closed them as well as he could, conjuring a bandage to go over them. It was ten minutes before he was confident that he'd steadied her vitals enough that she could support herself, and that he could help the man. His case was simpler—a concussion, with no major damage done. Adrian set the healing on its path, unable to do more.

"Take this tonight, if you can," he said, pressing a vial of dreamless sleep potion into the man's hand. "And check in on her regularly to make sure her breathing's normal." He didn't bother to mention that she should go to Mungo's—if that were an option, he knew, she would have been there already.

When he stepped back out into the street, it was to see Sirius duelling both Nott and Selwyn, Kingsley leaning against a building behind him, with another figure on the ground nearer to Adrian.

"Fucking hell," Adrian groaned, and then—after ensuring that the third Death Eater, who he recognized as Jugson—would be out of commission for a while, he jumped in at Sirius's side, drawing Nott's attention long enough for Sirius to take Selwyn down.

"Go help Kingsley," Sirius shouted, turning to engage with Nott once more. Adrian wasn't complaining about that. He made his way over to Kingsley, running a diagnostic (only stunned, seemingly, with some nasty side effects from being slammed into a wall) and patching him up. The focused zone he had entered as he'd worked on healing the woman returned as he stopped the bleeding from the small cuts littering Kingsley's back and head and mended a few fractures in his bones. When he was confident that he'd done as much as possible, Adrian woke him up, just in time to hear a loud crack behind him. He turned to see Sirius standing alone.

"Nott took Selwyn with him," Sirius explained, jogging over. "Just as well—don't know what we're going to do about Jugson as it is. We don't exactly have somewhere to put him."

"I thought it was just supposed to be the two of them."

"It was," Kingsley agreed, "Jugson snuck up on us—almost got Sirius."

"But you got him first."

"Yeah, and then Selwyn got me."

"But you're fine now," Sirius said, grinning at him. "Better than if I'd been fixing you up—we should always have a medic along."

"Well, you're going to get to practice your healing, because there are a lot of people who need us, and I don't feel like working myself into exhaustion. What did they want with these people, anyway?"

"They didn't want anything," Sirius said. "They just already hadn't gotten something. Most of the community is made up of a group who turned away from joining the Death Eaters. They abandoned their leader when he signed on. Moony thinks the Death Eaters have been trying to kill them slowly, never letting them heal between visits. We'll have to try to convince them to move, now—I imagine that'll be a less enticing game, now."

Adrian thought back to the woman's injuries, and to the fact that she hadn't been able to go to St. Mungo's. And a leader, who had joined the Death Eaters…

"It's a werewolf community?" he asked, surprised. Sirius nodded in confirmation.

"I thought they…nevermind," he broke off, deciding that he really didn't know enough to make his presuppositions reasonable. "You might have told me that—not because I won't treat werewolves, don't look at me like that. I'd have made sure I didn't bring along my potion knife, is all, so I could be sure I wouldn't accidentally hurt them."

"You have our apologies," Kingsley assured him.

"Yeah, well—I'll hear it all at the meeting next time, anyway. Now come on—there's some people in here."

As they worked, Kingsley and Sirius mostly bandaging or handing out potions as instructed, Adrian felt a sort of peace. This is good, something inside him said. And it felt good, using his skills to help people; aiding the cause by healing, not hurting. Taking his anger and pushing it to the side, because these people didn't need it—they needed someone calming, ready to help.

"Welcome to the Order," Sirius said, as they left the last house to rejoin Kingsley, who'd gone to speak to the leader about the danger coming for them when the Death Eaters returned.

"It was getting embarrassing, not being a part of meetings happening in my own living room," Adrian joked, and then added, "I think I'm glad to be in it."

/

"We should bring back that paper from fifth year—the…whatever it was called."
"Why would we bring back the Hogwarts Herald, Daphne?" Pansy asked, voice dripping with disdain. "Are you suddenly wanting to go into journalism?"
"Because no one's ever talking about anything interesting these days, and the gossip column was good," Daphne insisted. "I get that we're like, bringing about great change, but I had to learn from Emma that Amanda Hopper finally dropped Zacharias Smith."

"That is bleak," Pansy admitted, looking considering. "But Diggory and Gifford had time to run a paper, on account of not having lives. Draco and I just don't have the time."

"I didn't expect you to make it—like I said, I know you're doing bigger things. I'd be glad to take it on, only I'd need to get it cleared. And," Daphne wrinkled her nose, "I'm not going to write any boring articles, so if we have to have a full paper, we'll need to hire a Ravenclaw or just forget it."

"Well," Pansy said, sounding thoughtful, "if I don't have to do anything, I wouldn't mind having a gossip column back. And I don't see why we'd need the rest of the paper. Just call it 'The Life and Times' instead of the 'Hogwarts Herald' and it can be released as a column instead of a paper."

"That's perfect," Daphne said, giving Pansy the biggest smile she could.

"I know it is," Pansy said, rolling her eyes (though, Daphne noted, she still sounded pleased). "Just…write something out explaining what it is so I can make it official. And don't call it a gossip column, or it will never slide."

"I'll do it now," Daphne agreed, hugging Pansy before grabbing her bag and heading to the library to do just that. Once there, she settled down at a table off in one of the corners, pulling out a roll of parchment and beginning to draw up a proposal for a 'student interest column' to be circulated around the school.

"What're you trying to do, exactly?"

Daphne looked up at Theodore Nott, who had slid into the chair opposite her, putting on a puzzled expression.

"Write a proposal for a column?"

"Daph, you stopped caring about gossip back in fifth year, the same time you stopped spending so much time with Pansy; there's no way in hell you're trying this hard to bring back the Hogwarts Herald for its gossip column."

"In case you hadn't noticed, Pansy and I are friends again. And I'm allowed to have interests that come and go."

Theodore leaned forward, his eyes piercing hers.

"No, you're Pansy's friend again—she's not yours, no matter how much time you spend with her. Your friends are Blaise and both of the Patil twins and Terry Boot, and maybe even Ginny Weasley, though you're subtle about all of them except Blaise—who, by the way, stopped spending time with Draco and the rest of us the same time you did with Pansy."

"Merlin, Nott, I can have multiple friends."

"Yeah—but Pansy isn't one of them. You might have her fooled, but whoever that was talking to her back in the common room, it wasn't you. So, what are you trying to do? Why do you want a column so badly?" Daphne dropped her puzzled look, narrowing her eyes at Theo.

"Why do you want to know?" she shot back, and he flinched at the acidity in her voice. "Worried I'll write something about you? Or are you just trying to get me in trouble with your father and his friends?"

"Fuck off, Daphne—I'm not Malfoy." To prove the point, he thrust his left arm forward, the shirt sleeve rolled to his elbow showcasing bare skin. "I don't want to kill anyone."

"Excuse me if I don't think that the half of the Death Eater supporters who are lobbying for oppression are in the right, either." Daphne was treading on dangerous ground, and she knew it. But she also couldn't stop herself. She'd grown up with Theodore, had been good friends with him, and even now, she couldn't really believe he'd turn her in for saying what she was.

"Who says I'm a supporter?"

"Your father—"

"Has been following a maniac for decades, and has murdered who knows how many people on his order. That sort of thing tends to make you grow apart from your parents, as you grow up."

They were both silent for a moment, Daphne fingering her quill nervously as she tried to get a read on him.

"What are you really asking me, Theo?"

He looked as nervous as she felt, and his mouth opened and closed a few times before any words came out. When they did, it was in an even lower voice than he'd been using.

"Everyone knows Potter started a club back in fifth year, right around the time you and Blaise and the rest of your lot started spending time with each other and not the rest of us. And everyone knows that something happened with the Bletchleys at the end of the year, and that it led to the arrests. And nobody missed the messages in the Great Hall and every major passageway telling us that something called 'Dumbledore's Army' is recruiting, which started right at the beginning of the year. It doesn't take a genius to guess that the two groups are the same thing."

"And your goal with this detective work is what? To turn us in?" Daphne winced as she heard her own confirmation of Theodore's theory that she was involved, but he only scoffed at this idea.

"Don't be stupid, Daph. My goal is to figure out if I'd be allowed in."

"Why?"

"I've just told you that I don't agree with my father—do you really think I want to live in a world he's helped to build? It would be a nightmare, honestly—no upward mobility to speak of."

"Noble," Daphne said drily, and Theodore rolled his eyes.

"As if you and Blaise are doing it for entirely altruistic reasons. Nobody's saying it's not worth helping Mudbloods—Muggleborns, sorry, old habits—just that it's not the only reason, or the one that's going to most directly impact me."

"Fine," Daphne decided. "We have a meeting tonight—I'll bring you along. But if you make one move that indicates you're not really with us—" Theo raised his hands in surrender.

"Yeah, I got it. In any case, it'll be way easier for you to tell people you're just hanging out with me than to convince them not to be offended that you're ditching them for your sister again."
"Or they'll be more likely to try to come along," Daphne pointed out.

"We'll deal with it then," Theo didn't sound concerned. His eyes fell once again to the proposal Daphne had started, and he looked back at her, once again curious. "So—why do you want to bring back the Herald?"

It would be, Daphne decided, pointless to lie to Theo about this, considering what he now knew. Instead, she just looked around to confirm that no one was able to hear them.

"The same reason we made it in the first place," she told him. "To get uncensored information out to the DA when we don't have a meeting, or when something they need to know is…too long for our other form of communication."

"And you're doing that via gossip column?" Theo asked, and Daphne laughed.

"A gossip column is ideal, because it won't have to have a specific release schedule. It can supposedly just release when I hear something that feels worth talking about. And there's always something I could talk about at Hogwarts, so I can just release them as needed. Unless something really big goes down, in which case I'll have to write up a column for it anyway, or Pansy will get suspicious. The real communication will be hidden underneath."

"I don't remember the Herald having that feature."
"It was there, if you knew how to look."

"So, is Blaise working on this with you? I assume a lot of charm work is involved."

"Blaise is a bit busy helping run an underground student resistance," Daphne said, grinning at the surprise on Terry's face. "But Susan Bones is a dab hand at charms, so I imagine we'll be alright."

/

Andrew was worried. The Ghosts had spread their Muggleborn refugees out over three summer houses—his Uncle's manor, Antony Selwyn's house, and the Carrow Estate, and everything had gone smoothly. But it wasn't a long-term solution. It wasn't, really, even a wonderful short-term solution, because there was always a risk that one of the owners would decide to stop by or send a house elf along, nevermind that this had never happened before.

"We need to figure out something that's more secure," he told Cedric, not for the first time.

"I know," Cedric responded—also not for the first time.

Numbers weren't an issue in terms of space, but the more people they brought in, the harder transportation became. Jack had either paired up or was working on making wands for many of the Muggleborns who had lost their own, but anyone under seventeen would still not be able to apparate on their own without being traced.

"They need to just be back at Hogwarts," he muttered, and then froze. Why not, then?

"Weasley said they're full-time in the Room, yeah? And that they've worked out how to get food in there, for whoever's staying there during meals?"

"Yes—mostly for Neville, from the sound of it," Cedric confirmed.

"Then they have a place for us—they've gone to the trouble of securing it already. We can't bring everyone, obviously, but if Angie's meeting with Thomas and the Creeveys pans out, that'll be three Hogwarts-age kids, and we've at least got MacDonald, Jones, Cooper, and Finch-Fletchley already, maybe a few more."

"If we can figure out how to get them into the school, it would work," Cedric agreed, though he looked less than certain about the possibility.

"Easy—we made passages out of the castle back in seventh year; they can do the same. And we can coordinate it with the mirrors."

"Some of the older ones may want to join the Order," Cedric mused. "We can use Potter's mirror to talk with whoever's in charge over there, see if they're open to recruits."

"That could work, too—it's not perfect, but we won't need to find as big a place that way, at any rate."

Before they could plan further, the door slammed open, Marietta on the other side, rolls of parchment filling her hands.

"I've got an idea," she announced, marching over to the couches and dumping her armful onto one of them, keeping hold only of a single roll.

"It seems to be the time for them," Cedric said cheerfully, and Marietta grinned at him, and then handed the scroll over. Andrew came up behind him to read it, though he wasn't quite sure what he was looking at.

"As you know, the Death Eaters set up a taboo on that git's name, and they're using it to track people—the Snatchers are, at least, and they're bringing them in. What you may not know as much about is the fact that the taboo is a spacial spell—you can't set it up over the whole world, but you can have it project over a certain area—in this case, all of the UK, and probably Ireland as well. There's a lot of technical work that goes into sustaining that sort of spell, but for now, you can basically think of it like it's a station on the wireless. Are you with me?"

"I think so," Cedric said, and Andrew nodded.

"Alright—so, the thing about wireless networks is that you can access them from anywhere within them, so long as you have a wireless to listen on—a receiver. And, from all my reading, it seems that the Taboo works the same way, only it's more secure, since the Ministry is the only place that's tuned in. So, when someone trips the Taboo, they're the ones to find out, and the Snatchers are mobilized right away."

Cedric was studying the roll of parchment more carefully now.

"I don't suppose there's a way we could tune in for ourselves?" Andrew asked, and Marietta smiled.

"We could if we knew someone who knew their way around hijacking radio signals, and if we had someone who had in-depth notes about how this sort of spell is put in place," she said. Andrew returned her smile.

"Lucky for us we've got you and Lee, then."

"Do you know—I rather thought so, too."