A/N Now I'm all caught up. I have 1k words of the next chapter done. I know what comes next, but the immediate scene is giving me some trouble. Here's hoping I get it done soon!

Chapter 32

Three cryptic letters and one illegal Portkey found all four Prewetts standing in a deserted alley near the edge of the Iranian capital city, Tehran. A few appearance-altering charms and they were making their way to the appointed tea house.

Since they couldn't speak openly by owl post, they hadn't been able to disclose their plan to Yuri. Not at all sure the Russian expat would approve, all they could do was hope he'd agree to help them.

Hermione tugged anxiously at her black chador as they walked. It had taken more than one sticking charm to keep her hair properly covered, her curls continuously slipping free around her face as if by magic. Her modern, western sensibilities had much to say about the recent oppression of Iranian women, but that wasn't why they were there. She could respect local customs if it helped them defeat Voldemort.

It was the recent revolution, in fact, that made Iran appealing for this meeting. With the magic and muggle governments still in conflict, none of the magical officials would care about one fugitive Russian wizard. Since they had offered to come to him in a bid to earn his good will, he'd chosen the one place close to home where he didn't have to dodge Russian Ministry agents.

Yuri saw them as soon as they stepped through the door. He was sitting beside a low table surrounded by brightly coloured cushions. They hadn't altered their appearances overmuch, hoping their darkened complexions and transfigured clothing would disguise them as non-westerners. His dark eyes were curious as he tracked their movement through the crowded room.

Before any of them spoke, the subtle shimmer of magic fell around them with a flick of Yuri's wrist. He beckoned for them to sit with him and poured them tea.

"What was that spell?"

The Russian wizard gestured vaguely. "It would be trouble if locals hear us speaking English. Now they hear only casual conversation in Persian. Now…" He crossed his arms over his wide chest. "Tell me, my English friends. What is it you need from Yuri, eh?"

Having decided it would be best to be direct, Hermione got straight to the point. "How well do your radiation containment spells work in practice and do you think you could help us get ahold of some radioactive material?"

Dark eyes narrowed and flicked between them—reassessing, considering. He did not speak for several agonizing seconds and Hermione feared he would get up and leave. Instead, he closed his eyes, sighed and picked up his tea.

"What is plan?"

"Remember that Dark Lord we mentioned?" Gideon set his elbows on the table, resting his chin on his hands.

Yuri nodded. "He is one with horcrux?"

"Yep. We need to take him out, and the horcrux he keeps on his person at the same time. Problem is, any magical means we've thought up ends with him likely still alive and many others dead."

Yuri cut him off, waving a hand. "What you are asking, it could leave countless dead."

"We know that." Hermione sat up straighter meeting the gruff man's eyes. "That's why we want your help. The radiation, that is something Voldemort won't be able to fight against. It's not a projectile he can arrest, not a spell he can redirect, not a poison he can detect. We've seen the future, Yuri, and what it will take to kill him."

Thinking of Harry, of her younger self yet to be conceived, of her parents, of Fred and everyone else they had lost, she banished the tears that threatened as George slid his hand into hers. "The cost was so great. If we can end him and his followers in one fell swoop, we have to do it."

There was another long pause in which Yuri watched them thoughtfully before he asked again, "What is plan?"

"Well," she glanced around the room, suddenly acutely aware they were discussing possibly nuking the United Kingdom. "That, actually, sort of depends on you. We have a few loose ideas, but we need to know more about the spells your team developed before we decide anything."

Yuri laughed ruefully. "Why should I do this thing, eh? I have already helped you in your war more than I was authorized. You have more of our secrets than anyone should." He shook his head. "What would my people do if these spells got into the heads of our enemies? They could figure a way to break them and then we would be vulnerable again. No, this is too much. Sorry. I can not help you."

As he made to stand, Hermione reached across the table, grabbing his arm. "Wait! Please. I know this is a lot to ask, Yuri. We didn't come without something to offer in return."

Pausing, his eyes lingered on her hands before lifting to meet hers.

"Information for information, from the future."

One thick brow rose in interest. "Da? From the future?" Yuri waited expectantly, still half seated and ready to leave if what she offered was deemed unimportant.

"There is a nuclear facility in one of the USSR's satellite states." With a heavy sigh, Yuri sat fully and gestured for her to continue. There was little information available about the Soviet's nuclear programs but Hermione has still spent the last day and a half in muggle libraries researching all she could on the subject. Hopefully, she remembered the details about the meltdown correctly.

"Did you hear about what happened at Three Mile Island this spring in America?" When he nodded, Hermione thanked the back issue of The Guardian she'd found at the library. "Something like that, but much worse, and in one of the Soviet satellite states. In my time, even after the Soviet Union collapsed, the true numbers of dead is debated and unclear."

"Gav-no. When? Where?"

This time, it was George who answered, his voice hard and his face grave. "No. You agree to help us, and we'll give you the year, month and location."

Yuri peered shrewdly across the table at them. The silence stretched on and Hermione began to wonder if they had over estimated his generosity and just how much the other man cared about his muggle countrymen. They were asking him to take a monumental risk for them.

They were all taking a monumental risk. She knew how mental their half-plan must sound, especially to someone that had seen the horrors of nuclear weapons. But they were out of time and ideas.

Their interference was about to come to a head, with Severus at the center. It was only a matter of time before their thefts were discovered, and if that happened before they were ready to kill Voldemort then everything would be ruined.

Hermione had sometimes wondered if they should have been more patient. Perhaps they should have waited until Slytherin's locket had been left in the cave to make any major changes to the timeline. Then all of the horcruxes could have been gathered and dealt with at once and some plan that included the Order could have been worked out. Another big battle, another showdown.

But no. They knew what lay that way. It was Dumbledore's plan. It was the wait-and-see 'plan'. It was the allow-others-to-die-needlessly-instead-of-acting 'plan'. She and George had seen one final battle and neither of them fancied another.

This plan, with Yuri's help, would work. They would defeat the Dark Lord and all of his followers and end the war decades early.

"You have backed me into corner, friends." He shook his head once. "I could help you with both things you ask." Shrugging, he glanced around the room. "I know a man. A wizard that is a… procurer of rarities, curiosities and dangerous items, both magical and muggle. When we needed raw materials to test our spells, it was to him that I turned."

Hope bloomed in Hermione's chest as she watched the gruff Russian take a deliberate sip of his tea.

"As for spells… this is not something I can simply scratch out on napkin and pass across table." He shook his head and waved a hand. "I will send one of my people to where you are staying. He will take you to this man I know and then go back to London, help you with plan and spells."

George relaxed, letting out a relieved sigh. "Thank you, Yuri. We know this is a lot to ask."

A profound sadness stole across the other man's face at George's words and he sighed. "No, I do not think you do. I hope you never do."

GH

They waited in a small rented apartment on the edge of the city for a day and a half. Just as Gideon had decided he'd had it with waiting about, there'd been a knock on their door. A young man with a thin mustache and wide, black rimmed glasses greeted them in thickly accented English and stepped through.

He introduced himself as Ambrosi, a Georgian Unspeakable sent by Yuri. After a brief summary of his credentials—he had studied Nuclear Physics at a Russian muggle university and now utilized what he'd learned in his work with Yuri—he had produced a Portkey.

"This will take us to Yuri's contact. Please." Indicating that they should take hold with a nod, the quartet glanced around at one another anxiously before doing as they were asked. They had decided to trust the Russian expatriate, and he had sent them this man. With a familiar tugging and a 'pop' they were gone.

They reappeared in an ancient-looking coastal city. The buildings were stone, nearly every one boasting a red tile roof. George glanced beyond the low cliffs and city wall to the ocean beyond. It was a stunning blue that reminded him of holiday travel advertisements. The kind his family had never been able to afford.

"Where are we?" George was the first to recover from the trip as they began to follow Ambrosi.

"Croatia." He waved a hand vaguely around the city. "This is Dubrovnik. Come, magic section this way."

He led them up a narrow cobblestone street that overlooked the sea before cutting down an alley. There was a nondescript door at the back, upon which Ambrosi tapped his wand several times. It opened, just like the entrance to Diagon, and they stepped through.

The small magical shopping district looked as though it might have once been vibrant and joyful. It looked exactly like a coastal resort town. But, much like their own country, the atmosphere was heavy with mistrust and fear. These people were fighting a war, too.

George took up the rear of their party as they followed Ambrosi up a narrow flight of stairs to a second floor shop. From the small landing, they could just make out the shimmering blue of the afternoon sun glimmering on the ocean over the rooftops.

He must have been staring too long. Hermione grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze, a 'come on, Love,' whispered under her breath. Ambrosi led them through the shop and began speaking to the proprietor in what sounded like Russian as George meandered to the till.

There were wide windows on the side facing the sea, letting in light and capturing the serene feeling without any of the tension from the street below. It was strange, as he walked along the main aisle, his hand running along the shelves, something familiar niggled at the back of his mind. He stopped at a set of mixing bowls with an ominous aura.

Frowning, George looked around the small shop again. There were all manner of artifacts. Magical, muggle, some obviously illegal while others seemed oddly out of place.

The memory hit him with a jolt. It was the bright, airy windows and the months passed that had thrown him. It had to be.

Turning from the mixing bowls, George practically jogged to the till. Eyes agog, he shouted, interrupting the unintelligible conversation.

"Darby!"

Five heads turned to stare at George questioningly. The man, looking a bit younger than he remembered but definitely the same Filch-lookalike he'd met in Diagon, smiled in amusement.

"That's me, laddie." He gave George a look over and shook his head, smile never faltering. "Can't say I've seen you before, and I do get around quite a bit."

"George?" Hermione looked between him and Darby, the answer to the unasked question slowly dawning in her eyes.

"It was you! You sold me the Izmenit Proshloye, in Diagon Alley. You told me you got it off a guy in Kazakhstan and showed me how to use it."

Darby arched a skeptical brow. "Is that so? We haven't been to Diagon in over a decade." He gave an affectionate pat to the worn wooden counter between them. "What was it, did you say?"

"It's a time device." George suddenly felt the weight of the emotions he'd been feeling when he first met Darby. His voice, at first animated, now came out quiet and measured. "You said I needed it."

Hermione, having dropped his hand once she'd coaxed him into the shop, now reached for him again. She smiled up at him, a little sadly, as if she knew exactly what he was feeling. He felt a now familiar surge of warmth at her closeness, at her smile, at the silent reminder that she loved him and that he was not alone anymore.

"Well…" At the address, George turned back to Darby who was looking between the pair with keen interest. "Did you? Need it, that is?"

"I guess… I did."

The older man smiled and slapped the counter. "I've yet to be wrong. Now, back to business. I'm told what you need now is a nice bit of uranium."