CH22: Chekov's Key

October 18th

12:31pm

Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire

Voldemort

Even at midday, with the curtains drawn over the tall glass windows, Voldemort's study was a dark place. Candle light lit the room with a flickering green glow, paying homage to his magical heritage. Sat behind his desk in a high backed chair, Voldemort poured over a map Magical Europe. The map was unlike any modern muggle map, for as muggle nations toppled and fell, magical ones endured. As the Dutch fought for independence from the Napolean led French and established the Kingdom of the Netherlands in the muggle world, the magical communities immediately splintered into Flanders, Belgium and Luxembourg. Transylvania, non-existent in the muggle world, served as the only sovereign vampire nation and intruded on muggle Romania.

'Soon the remnants of this country's folly will be swept away,' Voldemort traced a bony finger over Flanders and Belgium. 'Here… neither country has any formidable defences and from there I can launch assaults on France and Germany.' Casting his eyes eastward to the corridor country of Bulgaria who's export of wands had given them incredible political leverage over south eastern Europe, effectively taking over much of the Balkans. 'I will have many allies here, and with enough pressure, Hungary and Romania should fall in line.' Voldemort leaned back into his chair and mused, 'with these staging grounds the ICW will have to split their forces, making my ascent to Lord of the Wizarding World inevitable.'

The Dark Lord's ambitious machinations were interrupted by three knocks at his office door. With a lazy flick of his hand, the door swung open to reveal a Death Eater, in the inner circle as shown by the intricate carvings on his mask.

"Yaxley," the Dark Lord addressed him, "I sense an air of confidence about you, what news do you bring?"

"My Lord," Yaxley reverently spoke as he fell to one knee and bowed his head. "The Longbottom Manor was empty, barring Old Augusta. She put up quite the fight, but fell to our numbers."

"Whilst it pleases me to know another blood-traitor is dead," the Dark Lord began, "there is more."

"Yes, my lord." Yaxley rose from the ground and reached into his robes. "These," Yaxley said, bringing to bare a rolled up stack of papers, "were found in Scrimengour's desk."

"Ah the curse breakers managed to open it." Voldemort took the papers and returned to his chair flicking, his eyes dancing across the confidential knowledge gleefully. Once he'd completed the paper's he looked at Yaxley with an expression of sadistic glee and ordered, "find her."

October 18th

4:24pm

Black Chateau, Isle of Man

Daphne

Magic had run its course and, where yesterday she had nursed an incredibly painful injury, today she sat comfortably at the meeting table. After weeks of distrust, Daphne had debated whether or not to bring certain members back into the fold, but they had proven themselves in the fire and by staying loyal. What remained of the command team was less than before.

Harry and Daphne still shared the responsibilities of command as the figure heads of the war effort. Kinglsey handled auror intelligence, Moody took auror training and Shafiq headed operations. With Dedalus and Podmore dead, Elphias Doge had taken over admin of the camp. Damien still toiled away drawing up plans for the future and Neville had sequestered himself to the greenhouse. Bill and Fleur were their resident ward experts and were of particular importance for this very meeting. Sally Merrithorpe, head mediwitch, was invited but not present as she had to oversee the new medical building. Tonks and Sirius were also invited as legacy members but only the former deigned to join them.

"Three houses," Damien spoke, his steady voice betraying his true feelings, "three well protected, unplottable houses."

'You fear for home,' Daphne guessed, 'as do I.'

"This can't be a coincidence," Shalim bargained, "Voldemort shows up on mass just as the wards happen to fail? Unlikely."

"It's not," Bill confirmed. His wand sat on the table in front of him and he spoke without letting his gaze waver from it. Daphne imagined the eldest Weasley son must have let his insecurities cloud his judgement for some time before he rested on outside causalities. "The way the wards collapsed… it had all the signs of sabotage."

"I have seen such magic with the goblins, but it is unlikely that Voldemort has gained their allegiance, we would know." Fleur's insights were not spoken without consideration. Had the goblins joined Voldemort's side, there would have been activity in Diagon Alley, the only known goblin structure in the British Isles.

"We know the ministry confiscated Goblin artefacts as part of treaties." Daphne sat straighter in her chair as she asked, "does the phrase 'the net' mean anything to anyone?"

Those who had worked at the ministry shared conspicuous glances with each other. Kingsley was the one to finally bring their veiled thoughts to life. "The net is an old ministry myth. The story goes that goblin spell weavers created a sophisticated network of the sacred twenty eight's properties as potential targets for attacks."

"None are better with wards," Fleur cemented, a rare admission of inferiority from the haughty woman, "it would be no surprise that they could find unplottable homes."

"Supposedly, at the end of the rebellion, the goblins yielded the project to the ministry… who promptly destroyed all traces of it." Moody's mouth pulled back into a slight sneer at Kingsley's recounting which piqued Daphne's interest.

"Something to add, Moody?"

"Aye lass," Moody growled. "The net existed, this is fact, but destroyed? Tosh. Reckon the ministry kept it locked away." The grizzled auror cast a disappointed eye towards Kingsley and asked. "You think the ministry would pass up on that kind of power?"

"No," Kingsley agreed, "I was simply telling the story as it was. If the net did exist only the minister and maybe the Supreme Mugwump would have access to it."

Daphne reached into her shirt and pulled out the key hanging from the thin loop of string. "Where there's a lock there is a key." Daphne had certainly kept the key between herself and Harry for a while but with Harry's disappearance, the raid on Gringotts and the famine, no one's attention could be spared to decipher its true purpose. "Some of Scrimengour's last words were 'protect them' as he handed me this key. Could he have been talking about the net?"

"We have to assume that he was, and that Voldemort has access to it." Harry, who had been uncharacteristically quiet throughout the meeting, seemed to be much more involved now that immediate action had been introduced to the discussion. "The longer we delay in shutting it down the more likely we'll face an attack here at the chateau."

"If we are attacked? What then?" Damien once more considered the unconsidered. "Most of our fall back options have been destroyed."

Harry's face looked as though it were obvious. "Hogwarts."

"With Snape in charge?" Tonks asked uncomfortably.

"No, we'll take it from Snape and fortify the castle better than we could ever hope to here." Harry looked decidedly too excited about removing Snape but the sentiment was shared by too many at the table to be questioned.

"That may not be necessary," Daphne said, bringing everyone back to the task at hand. "Everyone think of where in the ministry it could be hidden, the department of mysteries, law enforcement, improper use of magic, anywhere such a device could be located."

"But we have no idea what it looks like, or how big it is." Elphius Doge looked around the table, hoping to find someone to prove him wrong. "We're searching for a niffler in an enchanted forest."

Daphne leaned back and closed her eyes, searching her memories for Rufus Scrimengour. Anything she had found odd, anything involving a key or a secret room. Only one memory stood out, when the minister had stood at his window, looking down on his constituents, fumbling with what Daphne now assumed was the key to this 'net.'

'A way to fight the dark forces more aggressively… is this what you meant? Great Morgana! That could be it!' She opened her excitement filled eyes, brought to life by a mystery potentially solved and spoke solemnly.

"I know where it is."

October 19th

2:27pm

Black Chateau, Isle of Man

Daphne

The second Daphne stepped through the doors of the chateau and onto the grounds, the biting cold wind assaulted her bare skin. It was nearing winter and so each day was plagued by either rain or ice cold winds and a constant state of dampness.

Daphne wrapped herself in her coat as she made her way into the camp. As she walked, Daphne noticed the movement of the witches and wizards in the camp had a certain energy about it. There was a marked drop in suspicious glances and hostile gestures. The camaraderie was returning which made her smile.

Halfway down the path she came across a group huddled around a large bonfire. Three men and two women sat close together on spruce logs that had been taken from the forest nearby. Daphne pulled her coat tighter and attempted to bass by unseen but luck was not on her side.

"Greengrass!" One of them called out. "Where ya off to?"

Daphne stopped and prepared for confrontation. 'No doubt there are some who blame me for the last few months.' Turning to the men and women she spoke clearly, "the auror tent."

"You got a sec? We'd love to hear about the time you fought Voldemort at Azkaban."

'What is this? Mockery?' Daphne studied the man who was speaking but saw no sign of malcontent. Instead, she saw a little face pop out from behind him, a child, wrapped up like the rest of them in warm coats. 'Not mockery, a lesson… I've got time.'

Daphne pivoted from the path, towards the bonfire and planted herself on one of the thick logs that acted as seats. "Very well," she said as she adjusted herself, "I do not have much time but I will answer what I can."

"What was Azkaban like? Was the minister actually there?" one of the women asked.

"The prison itself was a mess, as Harry and I climbed the spire looking for the minister, the walls were crumbling all around us." With a child present, Daphne realised she should probably leave out the sorry state they'd found that auror in on the cafeteria floor and the rest of Scrimengeour's team. "We eventually found the minister, defiantly opposing Voldemort. We joined him, but he fell during the battle."

"Fates bless him." That same woman muttered followed by a chorus of the same. Daphne had lied of course, but she knew that no one was hurt by honouring the deceased minister. If they couldn't bring back the body she'd at least bring back a good story.

"What was that like? Fighting him?" the child asked, adoration in her eyes. Daphne found that odd but as her mind got caught up in the memory of the battle, she paid it no more attention.

'Exhilarating.' Considering her audience though, she didn't think morbid fascination was the right way to describe a fight to the death. "Moves and countermoves. Voldemort is not only a skilled duellist but he also knew how Harry and I fought together."

"And is young Potter up to the task?"

"No." Shock value was not something to be dismissed. Daphne was deliberately short for effect and she found herself enjoying the confused glances the group shared. "Not alone. We have fought Voldemort three times and each time Harry has ended up alone and on the brink of defeat. Together though…" Daphne let the sentence fade out to look at the little girl sitting next to her father and put on a fake smile. "Nothing is impossible."

"Thanks for the story Miss Greengrass," the father said as he outstretched his hand.

Daphne took it and shook it, her keen mind caught the gratitude in the father's actions. "You are welcome," she said when she let go. "Keep warm and eat well," she bade the group as a farewell.

Daphne left them there and continued towards the auror tent. As fun as telling stories was, they were planning a difficult infiltration mission and the twins had made some upgrades to their vigilant vests for Daphne to test. Awaiting her behind the large red tent was a death eater dummy on a wooden stand, wearing what Daphne assumed was one of the newest vests.

'Gods forbid they witness the test,' Daphne thought bitterly. Fred and George Weasley had certainly profited an obscene amount from the war, not in galleons but in data collection. With so many in the camp, they had a large sample size to test their commercial products. Of course, they hadn't charged a dime, not for a single product, but they had discovered much about their future market no doubt. 'Cunning, perhaps Weasley red would've been at home in the dungeons.'

Daphne walkedup to the dummy and ran her hand along the fabric. 'Still they are unique in their craftsmanship.' Close inspection of the vest found defensive enchantments in minuscule links running along the threads of material. 'Stronger… but by how much?'

"Should I leave you alone with that?"

Daphne swiftly turned and came face to face with Astoria who's eyes sparkled with mischief. Having been so focused on the intricate spell weaving, Daphne had missed Astoria's approach. Daphne stepped forward and embraced her younger sister briefly only to step away and give her a pointed look. "You know too much for a fourteen year old."

"Yes, yes," Astoria waved Daphne off as she took a seat on a wooden crate, swinging her legs back and forth. "And I'm too crass for a pureblood lady. You sound like mum."

"Hmm." Daphne's hum of acknowledgement was devoid of positivity. "And how is mother? And father for that matter."

"Maybe you should ask them yourself."

'Insolent sprite.' Daphne's wand came up fast as she cast diffindo on the vest. If that hadn't conveyed her thoughts clear enough, the challenging raised eyebrow did the trick.

"They had a fight last night." Daphne walked up to the vest and investigated the damage. The chain link spell protection was still in place with no sign of impact. "They fight a lot now." Stepping back, she looked at Astoria to see her joyful expression had turned demure. Her parents fighting wasn't a usual occurrence, for the most part, their relationship was incredibly constructive. But on the rare occasion their emotions got the better of them, it was often about Astoria's illness. 'Bad enough she's got the curse, let alone having to deal with our parents' fears.'

"It's not your fault." Daphne moved to where Astoria was sitting and crouched down in the dewy grass to meet her downcast eyes. "You shouldn't have to deal with that."

"I know," Astoria said, bringing a wave of relief over Daphne. The last thing she wanted for her little sister was to feel guilty about her own affliction. "Because it wasn't about me, it was about you."

'Me?' Daphne was confused. Years of being the golden child had racked up a certain surety in her mind that she could do no wrong. But that all changed with how she had handled Harry's capture. Those two pillars of support had been shattered under Daphne with only her to blame. It wasn't Astoria's illness or her father's work ethic or her mother's reclusiveness or even the war as a whole that was tearing apart the Greengrass household, it was... 'Me.'

"I see." Daphne unconsciously stepped back in line with the dummy and slashed her wand across her body. A dark purple curse materialised in an arc and tore the vest and dummy in two. As the magic dissipated, she felt it recede in her body like a tide returning to the ocean. Her heavy breathing slowed and the world around her became real once more. 'Strangers can overlook my actions, but my own family can not?'

"Daphne, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Astoria." Now it was Astoria's turn to raise a challenging eyebrow, which disappeared in her fringe. "I'm holding it together." But as she embraced her sister again, she wondered just how much longer she could hold it together, for a storm was coming, and she'd already weathered so much.

Author's Note

Hi all,

We start it off with a little outer world building. I will explain it a bit more here as I didn't want to do a massive info dump in the actual story.

In the muggle world, the Kingdom of Netherlands gained sovereignty in 1815 after Napolean's final defeat at waterloo. Modern day Belgium seceded from the KoN only 15 years later in 1830 and was granted much of Luxemburg's land. Flanders was a county in Netherlands, one of the largest and most politically significant counties of European history.

Now the magical context clues that canon leaves us are as follows. Flanders has a national team in the quidditch league meaning they have to be a country. Considering the county's size, I wanted to give the magical equivalent something similar. My thinking was that if this Flanders country is so strong, where would the Netherlands fit in? Answer: they don't. The Kingdom of Netherlands was a purely muggle invention, leaving the land to be divided up between Belgium and Flanders. There are Dutch wizards, but they fall under whichever region they were born in.

Transylvania is its own sovereign country in canon and has its own ministry of magic. In this story though, that ministry pales in comparison to the vampire kingdom in the same region, to the point where the vampire kingdom is almost like a mob to the government. (Might be explored in a possible sequel?)

Not much is said of eastern European magical society. We know Krum is from Bulgaria and that they have a quidditch team. There are dragons in Romania and Charlie works on a reserve there. Gregorovitch is a famous wandmaker and most probably has been around for a while like the Ollivanders. It's stated that Durmstrang is located in the far north but it was founded by a Bulgarian witch; Nerida Vulchanova. So, compiling all that together, I've decided to make it so Bulgaria is the centre of magical society in eastern Europe. A combination of a booming economy (wand making), the best education nearby (Durmstrang) and all the political leverage that entails has made Bulgaria a superpower in the magical world. Their territory stretches from the black sea to the eastern borders of Croatia.

Enough about pseudo-Europe though, if I make a sequel, I'm sure it'll be explored more.

That damned key is finally relevant, lets goo. With so much going on, there was no point to bring up the key. I'm leaning to daphne's sort of hero reputation for her character more than atmosphere. Seeing how others, adults and children, perceive her directly leads into her conflict with her parents and her own internal image of herself. Right now, there are two characters that are in Daphne's corner besides Harry; Tonks and Astoria. The father and daughter are mirrors of those two, Tonks brings an adults perspective and understands Daphne's sacrifice whereas Astoria will always adore her big sister, no matter what.

Sorry for the big note, got lost in the sauce a little bit.

Hope you all enjoyed and had a happy holiday!

RevanchistVII