CHAPTER 104: THE MUGGLE WAR, PT 3

With a *crack* of Apparition, Professor McGonagall reappeared on the forest ground.

"It's not just Hogwarts," she said heavily. "I don't know exactly what is happening, but the Ministry is in complete chaos. Apparently there have been attacks just about everywhere. The visitor entrance to the Ministry has been closed and there was a group of Aurors in the Atrium, like they were expecting trouble there. I could hardly find anyone to even speak to; most of the competent people were either gone or completely swamped. Shacklebolt told me that if we weren't in any immediate danger, we'd better stay where we are, because that put us in better position than most people!"

"That's crazy," Harry bit. "We're completely exposed here."

They were sitting in a small circle away from the others: the Hogwarts staff and Michael, Harry and Hermione. Some of the teachers had raised an eyebrow when Harry inserted himself and Hermione into the meeting, but Professor McGonagall had immediately included them, asking Hermione to send her Patronus to Professor Dumbledore. The Headmaster, it turned out, was still alive, but he was occupied and had little more to say than to put Professor McGonagall in charge of the student body.

"I spoke to a man on the magical maintenance team," Professor McGonagall continued. "For what he could tell me, there have been bombs on several major magical sites away from Muggle cities, at least some of them nuclear bombs. Muggles are also clearing the areas immediately around other places like the Ministry and St. Mungo's, so they might be planning to attack overnight. They even supposedly managed to get into Diagon Alley. The man only knew second-hand information, but what he said sounded plausible, and we already know several family houses have been attacked. If we're going to relocate, I have no idea where to. Nowhere in the wizarding world seems safe."

"Nowhere near Muggles either," Professor Sprout murmured sadly. "Present company excepted, of course."

Michael just shrugged. Harry would have expected him to be more uncomfortable as the only Muggle in the group, but his one week of teaching at Hogwarts had made him more familiar with magic, and Professor McGonagall had explicitly invited him into this meeting. Petunia had also been invited, but she had preferred to stay with the younger children. "Of course. But why not take the children abroad? Hermione can take anyone anywhere at will, can she not?"

"Tensions abroad are not as great as here," Professor Snape conceded. "But I wouldn't dare go anywhere near magical sites there, either. The risk that foreign Muggle governments will take the same view is too large. For that matter, as far as I could tell, the British Muggle government has been completely dysfunctional for some days. These attacks may well have been perpetrated by a foreign agency, and in that case we do not want to relocate to the seat of their own power."

"It might not have been any government at all," Michael contradicted him. "I'm not an expert in military security, but for what little I know, the command chain to fire nuclear weapons allows for several shortcuts in case of emergencies. I've even heard of an American facility where the launch codes were all set to a sequence of zeros, although I'm not sure whether that's true or just an urban legend. Regardless, I would guess that it was simply someone in our military."

"Perhaps," Snape shrugged, "but I wouldn't gamble on it. Being near magical areas, whether here or abroad, is a greater risk than staying put."

"What about abandoned areas abroad?" Hermione suggested.

"You forget Apparition!" Professor Flitwick squeaked. "It's important not to be completely dependent on a single phoenix, Miss Granger. If anything happens abroad, the children won't be able to Apparate home, or even Apparate at all, if they've never been anywhere close enough."

"Not to mention," Snape added, "other magical governments might not be too pleased if we take our war to their borders. Consider this. We are in a random piece of forest in the middle of nowhere. No one even has a reason to suspect we're here, and the foliage stops notice from above. Even in the unlikely event that someone in an airplane would notice us, they would not be able to tell us from Muggles. We have complete obscurity, in short. Add to that the number of people – staff and students – who may contribute to warding the area, and I imagine we are safer here than we would be anywhere else."

"But we have no ward stones," Professor Sprout protested. "It would take at least a day to find a good set and adjust them to the location."

"We don't need them, Pomona!" Professor Flitwick squeaked. "We can group-cast a large shield, and sleep in turns to keep it active. I'll get all the N.E.W.T. students in the Charms and Defense classes to join in! It will only be needed for one or two days at most, until things calm down enough that the children can safely go home. We'll put on some Notice-Me-Not, large-scale Protego, Muggle repelling, maybe Disillusionment..."

"Wait," Harry cut in. "Would this be the kind of thing that causes an empty patch on a photograph, or not being able to look down from a plane, or maybe people arriving somewhere they weren't intending to go? Because I'm pretty sure that that will also draw the wrong kind of attention."

Flitwick nodded. "You are right of course, we should avoid such issues. I'll take care of it."

"And what about dark wizards? We're all focusing on Muggles right now, but should we be afraid for any Death Eater activity while we're here?"

"Since many of the Death Eaters have children at Hogwarts," Professor Snape said impatiently, "I expect they would prefer not to endanger them."

"Right, I guess we have a plan then!" Flitwick got up, and started calling out for his N.E.W.T. students. With some final words, Professor McGonagall ended the meeting and the other teachers and Michael got up and dispersed. Harry, however, stayed put. There was little he could do to help, and he had a few things to think about.

What about Professor Quirr– Voldemort? he wondered.

I vote that we just call him Tom Riddle from now on, Ravenclaw suggested. It is more comfortable than the word 'Voldemort', more convenient than 'You-Know-Who' and, unlike 'Professor Quirrell', may actually refer to the original person rather than a front.

Fine, fine, Harry thought, Riddle. Shouldn't we be worrying about what he's doing?

I am going to put forward the opinion that he caused this, Slytherin suggested. It's a little too convenient that not only did the husband of a witch find out about the bomb in time to get a warning off, the attack also took place at dinnertime, when it was very easy to get everyone out of Hogwarts because almost the entire school was collected in the Great Hall.

In that case, Hufflepuff said ponderously, he never wanted to kill any of us. He's just making a point about nuclear weapons.

And royally biasing everyone against Muggles in the process, Slytherin added grimly. The destruction of Hogwarts will be a powerful rallying point. And we already know he probably doesn't want to kill us – we're going to have to rule the country, remember?



This may mean that we're in no danger from him, at the moment, Ravenclaw said thoughtfully. And by extension, the other students are safe because they're near us. But I would not assign this a greater than eighty percent probability. Then again, if he wants to harm the students, he could probably succeed no matter what we do.

"Harry?" A voice to his side asked. "What are you thinking about?"

Harry turned his head to see Hermione, still sitting next to him. "Just considering what might be going on. I'm not sure how much danger we're in, here."

"Well, is there anything we could do to be in less danger?"

Harry looked grim. "That's what I'm trying to figure out."

"One of our cadets noticed something peculiar during a test flight," the voice emanating from the telephone explained. They were on speaker, with several of the officers listening in.

The captain, as the senior officer, was the first to speak. "Peculiar? Was magic involved somehow?"

"That seems extremely likely," said the RAF officer on the other side. "We found that the young pilot had diverged from his scheduled flight plan, yet he couldn't account for the divergence and was confused about his own decisions. Given his excellent track record, we suspected that something more might be at play, and sent in others to scout the area where he must have gone off target. We have pinpointed several locations, lying in a rough circle, where the planes seem to go off track. We have not been able to confirm anything beyond that, however."

The captain frowned. "Do you think you have been found out? A sudden large number of planes would surely be suspicious."

"Not that suspicious in the area, we regularly test our flights there."

"I see."

"We are pulling our people away from the place to avoid notice regardless," the voice continued. "But we will fax you the coordinates. As you are the nearest military base, you may have to make preparations to respond in case of enemy action. We are also notifying the major police stations."

"Understood. Thank you for the information."

The call ended, and the captain looked around.

"We are not engaging," she spoke firmly. "We will be on the alert in case specific action is warranted, but I have not the slightest intention of sending troops into magical territory without good reason. Despite what some would have us believe, we are not at war with these wizards." She glared sternly at the faces in the room.

"According to the Major –" one of the lieutenants started to protest.

"The Major is acting on his own volition! His words made it very clear that there was no legal basis for his commands. I will not support this madness and throw us into something we have neither understanding of nor business interfering with. Am I clear?"

"Yes Ma'am."

Randall didn't say a word that might reveal his true feelings, even as he inwardly seethed at the captain's cowardice. He kept his face calm as they debated briefly on the preparations to be done, before finally the lower officers were dismissed and filed out to their respective duties.

No engagement. With barely a moment's thought, the captain had rejected all initiative towards the wizards, even further intelligence-gathering. How much more evidence did she need to see that they were at war? The government had gone silent – missing? – while power plants were destroyed, planes were crashed and civilians were attacked left, right and center. Their own high military command had recognized the reality of the situation and taken the unprecedented step of ordering the armature of the general population. Yet despite all this, the captain saw only strict rules, standardized protocols and risks. She didn't see the terror of the people. She hadn't seen the tears on the face of Randall's eight-year-old niece when she learned that she would most likely never have the use of her right hand again, after a doorknob had chewed on it. She hadn't spoken to the dozens of terrified people who'd joined them in the cafeteria of that hospital, many of whom had friends or relatives losing fingers or their whole hand, or who had got heavily injured just a week before. She, apparently, was happy to sit in a bubble of imagined safety, waiting until the world collapsed around her.

It didn't matter. The captain would end her shift soon, and then he would be the commanding officer, as long as he didn't breathe a word of his plans. He would, naturally, have access to the coordinates for the wizardly presence. And then – well, they had been given explicit orders from the Major to arm responsible elements of the general population. The captain might not be happy with his insubordination to her, but once she woke up, she'd be too late to do anything about it.

In the end, Harry simply decided to keep watch. He could push himself to stay awake until 4am, go back in time six hours, sleep under the invisibility cloak Dumbledore had given him, and then stay awake for the rest of the night. If Tom Riddle came near, Harry would know by the feeling of Doom. It wasn't much of a protection, and he'd be a little sleep-deprived, but he felt better for guarding the students all the same.

First, however, he needed to discuss with his parents.

He found the both of them with a group of students playing Hints. "Mum, Dad, can I talk to you in private for a bit?"

They immediately followed him. "What's wrong, Harry?"

Harry cast a silencing barrier. "I don't know how safe the two of you are here. I had you brought to Hogwarts because it was pretty well protected, but what Flitwick and the older years are setting up here doesn't come anywhere close. It may be better if the two of you actually go to Canada."

"No." Surprisingly, it was Mum who answered. "We're needed here, Harry."

Harry blinked. "How so? What can you do?"

"We can distract the children. Keep them from panicking – a lot of them were very restless before I got them all playing games. Most of your schoolmates are really upset, and your teachers don't have the time to comfort them, or to keep them busy."

"And what is more," Dad added, "all these children have just been attacked by Muggles. Many have lost everything they had. Add that to the way we have been portrayed in that strange newspaper in the last few days... I would say the most important thing we can do right now is to stop that seed of hatred from taking root. Show them that Muggles are just like them, like your mother has been doing by being her usual loving self." He fondly wrapped an arm around his wife's waist.

Harry hesitated. His parents were right, they could do a lot of good here, but –

"Staying here might really be dangerous, though. We're in the middle of a war where all three sides may have it in for you."

Dad frowned. "If that's really true, are you planning to come with us?"

"No," Harry slumped. "I'm needed here."

Mum snorted. Dad nodded. "Then we're staying. Don't worry so much, Harry. I would say the adults have it in hand. Your teachers made a good case that it's safer here than anywhere else."

Only if you can Apparate. But it was probably true that being near Harry was a protection in itself, and so was being near Hermione, as she would be able to take care of most emergency evacuations and would not discriminate against Muggles. "All right, then."

He left his parents behind and went to find Hermione, and then to have some words with Professor Flitwick.

With a burst of flame, Hermione appeared on Platform Nine and Three Quarters.

She looked around. No evidence of Muggles nearby. Perfect.

The platform would certainly fit all the students, and since it existed in an extended magical space could not possibly be seen from satellite photos. There were weaknesses, certainly – most importantly, the barrier that separated the platform from the rest of King's Cross Station. The magic that allowed interaction with the mundane world was rooted in the barrier; it it should be destroyed, then at the very least the Air-Freshening Charms would cease working, meaning a slow suffocation for all within, while the space itself contracted until nothing remained. But that only made it a bad long-term solution. If another emergency evacuation should be necessary, the platform seemed like a pretty good bet to hide for a few hours, safely away from Muggle eyes and still inside the country, so Apparition would not be an issue.

She gave herself a little nod, and went to check the home ground of a native (and now mostly dead) tribe in the Amazon as a second backup location.

Magical lanterns were conjured and hung between the trees, the last pieces of dinner eaten. The foliage overhead was enchanted to merely look thick and dark, so no passing airplanes would see anything unusual. Insects and small animals were dispelled to the edge of the ward line, which Flitwick himself drew up: a golden circle that surrounded the camp site, the basis to build heavier wards on top of. Most of the staff and the older students joined in, adding layer upon layer of protection to the wards, and setting a line of Muggle repelling charms ten meters away from the main wards. The group shielding was a work of art, with teachers awarding House points to those N.E.W.T. students adding the best protections to the shared project. Many of the younger students watched; others passed the time holding small duels or playing games with each other. The atmosphere grew a bit more relaxed; whatever may have happened to Hogwarts, everyone here was still alive, and safe.

Finally, sleeping bags were conjured, the lights extinguished, and students and staff prepared for the night. Harry sat himself down by the large tree he had selected for his later self to sleep underneath, and watched the older students who guarded the wards, staying awake to maintain the shield. Every half hour, he invisibly walked around the ward line, watching, listening.

It was well past midnight when they came.

The former Defense Professor stared in surprise at the many hundreds before him, the Muggles who had touched the detection webs he had woven in a wide circle around the campsite. He had not done this. Somehow, some way, these people had come by their own initiative.

Perhaps it wasn't surprising; many things had happened these past days that he had not set into motion directly. Attacks from wizards on Muggles and Muggles on wizards alike... It was truly a marvel how easily people allowed themselves to be manipulated. A few nudges here and there, that was all it had taken for the whole thing to take off magnificently. But how had these Muggles known to come here?

Silently, he entered the mind of one of the men and searched for answers, but he found only anger, a thirst for revenge, and a large amount of alcohol. The next three were not much better. But the fifth, at last, had a plan, and knew the exact place they were going to.

It was his own circle. The Muggle- and machinery-repelling lines, spelled to be raised when a large object passed through his detection ward. He had placed it to protect the children of Hogwarts after their flight, as they were a little too exposed for his tastes, too vulnerable for sudden attack from the air. But apparently, the wards themselves had drawn attention. He silently smirked. Perhaps he was responsible after all.

Never mind, he could stop it easily; he could kill them all before they managed to get much further, or simply knock them out, or send them away without memories of their intentions. But should he? Here was a golden opportunity. The Muggles were many, but the children of Hogwarts were trained well; if it would come to a fight, they should be able to hold their own. With losses, perhaps, but that was not unacceptable. If the worst of the risks could be averted –

His hands already held the parchment, and with a flick of his wand, a list of conditions appeared on it. Another flick, and the paper disappeared.

In another place, his servant would receive the instructions, and wait for two hours without further awareness of the outside world. Then his servant would test the conditions and give the answer to the child with the Time-Turner, who would return to the present and read it. If the answer was YES, the child would send it to him before five minutes had passed. If it was anything else, or if she found that time travel would lead to a contradiction, he would simply not receive an answer. It was the safest precaution, the best way to guarantee that his actions would not ruin his goals. If he did intercede, choosing the safe course, the conditions would almost certainly be satisfied. However, if allowing the Muggles would not affect the conditions either, if every future path was safe, then there was nothing to prevent his servant from verifying the conditions; in that case, the most likely stable time loop was one where he received a YES. If the decision to allow the Muggles to pass through would have adverse effects, then there was no stable time loop where he received a YES; most likely the time travel would not be permitted, and he would never receive an answer. Either way, he knew what to do. There was a chance of false negatives – he might be prompted to interfere when there was no need to, if Time caused issues – but an answer that it was safe would always mean that it was safe.

A new parchment appeared in his hands, with a large capitalized YES written on it.

The former Defense Professor smiled a cold smile and lifted his wards.

Filius Flitwick was roused by a hand on his shoulder and a whispered voice. "Professor, I think there's people nearby."

"You don't need to whisper," Harry Potter's voice spoke impatiently from not too far away. "We're behind a one-way silencing barrier, remember? And is there any reason why we wouldn't want to wake everyone up?"

Filius was already wide awake and casting a number of sense-improvement charms: augmented listening, dark vision, far sight. He shushed his students and turned his senses outwards. There were people there – many! They were dressed in dark clothes, many with hoods, and carrying items Filius did not recognize.

"Where are they?" A man asked in a low voice.

"Invisible no doubt," another voice sneered. "Try checking whether there's stuff you don't see."

"Hey, look over there!"

Squinting to see even with his magically improved eyesight, Filius found what the men had seen and his breath choked. Beneath the moonlight glinted a tiny fragment of silver, a fraction of a line; a small part of the foundation of the Muggle repelling wards which had not been cast carefully, and had been overlooked by the warding group.

"Oh yes, we're at the right place all right!"

Filius muted his extra senses and turned to his anxious students. "They're looking for us."

This was bad. The outer warding circle, since it was the largest and furthest away from the people maintaining its magic, was very light. It would have kept unsuspecting Muggles from coming too near the campsite, but unfortunately it did not seem like the word unsuspecting applied to these people.

"WAKE UP EVERYONE," Harry Potter's Sonorus-strengthened voice reverberated over the campsite. "HAVE YOUR WAND READY. BUT STAY PUT."

"Do you want everyone panicking?" A sixth-year student nearby snapped at him as people all around jolted awake and questions of "what?" and fearful crying sounded everywhere.

Harry Potter just shrugged. "I want them to be prepared."

Filius wasn't going to spend time on the argument. "Sixth and Seventh Years!" He shouted in a tone of command. "Reinforce the wards!"

He focused his hearing outwards again.

"I... How did I... Where am I..."

"They've done something here to confuse you, and make you want to go away. Chill."

Whamm! An explosive of some kind had been thrown and gone right through the Muggle repellers, landing on the forest ground and lighting up the area in a burst of flame. Filius yelped and canceled the hearing charms, then quickly healed his ears. The explosive hadn't hit the wards – the ten meter distance had been a very good idea, even if it did cost more magical energy to maintain it like that – but nearby, several young children started crying loudly.

"Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall spoke clearly, over the terrified sounds from the students. "You have explored alternative areas for evacuation, haven't you?"

"Yes Professor," Hermione Granger said from somewhere nearby. "Platform Nine and Three Quarters should work pretty well."

"Go check it out. Children, group up. Young children together, I want you out first. Older students, do not abandon the shield. We should have plenty of time to get everyone out of here."

Boom! Crash!

The smell of petrol filled the air and smoke pricked his eyes, even as the fire sizzled out quickly. Some of the Muggles had managed to hit the shield with some kind of fireworks. They might not be able to look directly at their target due to the Notice-Me-Not enchantments, but they could figure out roughly what the line was that they couldn't pass, and simply aim right ahead from there. The campsite was large enough to be hit by such a strategy. But Minerva was right; their shield was powerful, the Muggle weapons nowhere near strong enough. With this many people pouring their strength into the wards, nothing that wouldn't also kill all the Muggles around them had a chance of penetrating it. Magical attackers might have tried other tricks, but Muggle abilities were too limited, in variation if not in power.

Filius smiled confidently as he fed more magic into the shield.

With a burst of flame, Hermione appeared on Platform Nine and Three Quarters.

It took her a moment to register the human figures all around the platform, the soldier uniforms, and then it was already too late to react. She heard the blasts of gunshots even as she felt a sharp pain in her stomach, side and chest, and then someone cursed and another voice shouted "stop!"–

With a faint feeling of longing to just go home, she fell down on the stone ground, the pain starting to numb as the blood streamed out of her body and all sounds turned to a distant buzz. She didn't even feel the flames engulf her as she sank into darkness.

Explosions were coming from all directions. More and more Muggles were collecting just outside the edges of the wards, hundreds of them.

Harry was tensing up. Where was Hermione? She was supposed to have been back in about ten seconds, but she'd been gone for several minutes now. The younger. students had been neatly divided into year-groups, each year split into two or three. That was one comfort: at least his army was near him. But the greater situation was getting more and more worrying. Harry wasn't sure whether he should be more anxious about what might be happening that could hold up Hermione or about the rest of them, but the simple fact was that the evacuation plans were all centered on Hermione and Xare. If for whatever reason they were inconvenienced, the students would have to use side-along Apparition, which was difficult because most of the people capable of doing that were needed to maintain the shield. Nor could they go after Hermione without at least a few powerful wizards available, and the teachers would probably prioritize the many over the one right now.

There was one obvious solution. End it quickly. Then they could get the hell out of here and launch a rescue mission, if Hermione still hadn't come back.

"Be ready," he said out loud. "You only need one hand to hold your neighbor by the shoulder. Keep your wand in the other. Pass the word, make sure everyone's prepared for battle, as long as they keep holding on to each other."

"Who died and made you the boss?" A second-year nearby asked.

"No one did," Harry said calmly. "But I don't think any of the teachers has ever led a battle. Those who fought in the last war all followed Dumbledore, and he's not here right now."

"Eh, I wouldn't be so worried," Ron muttered from somewhere nearby. "That shield's going to hold for a while."

"It costs you nothing to have your wand ready," Seamus snapped at him. "Are you thinking of something, Harry?"

"We can't just sit and wait while they whittle away at our wards," Harry answered. "They're bound to try something smarter sooner or later. We stop them before they do that."

Dean, who was also standing near him, frowned. "Do you know whether the shield lets our spells through?"

"Not right now," Harry shook his head. He had checked this with Flitwick some hours ago. The Charms Professor had explained that they were using a version of Protego Maximus, which protected from most kinds of attacks and spell fire, but was fully symmetric: anything that could go in, could go out. The students could make it so that no spells were blocked, but this would leave the group exposed to hostile wizards. So Harry had suggested to use two layers of Protego, one with protection from spells and the other without. "But Flitwick and the others can drop the layer that blocks spells, keeping us protected from anything Muggles can throw at us while we will be able to curse them at leisure."

"Or we just use Killing Curses," a nearby Slytherin suggested. "I bet they go through the shield."

That was, in fact, the first point Harry had thought about, but he wasn't going to mention that. "No. We don't want to give them an extra reason to start trying to kill us, and it would cost far more magical energy than a Somnium. I'm going to talk with the Professors. Just keep your wands out, okay? And see that everyone else knows that, too."

He struggled away from the mass of bodies and looked around for Professor Flitwick.

"Potter! Why are you not holding hands?"

Harry looked up in Professor McGonagall's face.

"Hermione hasn't returned, Professor," he said, ignoring the hot ball of fear in his chest at saying those words. "We have to end this, quickly. The attackers seem to be entirely non-magical; they have weapons but no defenses. We should be able to take them all down in five minutes without any casualties. We can drop the spell-ward and mass-Somnium the lot."

Professor Flitwick came hurrying over, apparently having overheard the conversation. "I was just thinking it might be best to go on the offense, Mr. Potter! Massed spell fire will not hit all the attackers, but it will make them more hesitant to come close, I think."

"We don't even need to hit many," Harry shrugged. "Just leave them there long enough so their friends can see that they're still alive. Then summon some of the bodies. That should stop the others from throwing more explosives, as they would hit their friends before they would hurt us. And then we can nego..ti..ate..." He trailed off, suddenly realizing that the sound of explosions had stopped.

In the distance, outside the wards, a single man had managed to pass through the Muggle-repelling barrier; thrown, apparently, by three tall men behind him. The man's frantic scream cut off as they turned to look at him, and he shook, but composed himself, and scrambled up from the ground. A tall, muscular man, he looked imposing as he spoke: "Come forward, then, if you're hiding there."

A complete silence was his only response. Even inside the wards, conversation stopped as everyone turned to listen to the man.

"You murder our people," the man spoke with a passionate hatred in his voice. "You corrupt our leaders. You torture and mutilate our children. This is going to end tonight!"

"Filius, if this goes wrong, you're in charge," Professor McGonagall said quietly.

"Wha–"

With a *crack* of Apparition, Professor McGonagall disappeared, and reappeared outside the wards.

"Ah," the man sneered. "At last you dare to show your face."

"Your anger is misplaced, sir," Professor McGonagall said feelingly, "There is no one here but seven hundred school children and a handful of teachers. We were forced to evacuate when our school was bombed. We mean you no harm."

"Children?" The man repeated incredulously, even as a few of the distant shadows stirred. "So your kind starts young, too? What did they teach in that school of yours, murder and torture?"

"Disable the Disillusionment and the Notice-Me-Not," Professor Flitwick commanded. "They are managing to target us anyway. Try not to look too combat-ready, everyone."

With a ripple in the air, the dome became visible. Several people behind the Muggle-repelling line jumped in shock.

"Bulbali", McGonagall cast, shooting three bulbs of light in the air, which stayed there. The bulbs lit up the area, casting Muggle and Magical in a yellow-white light so all could see the students clearly.

"Children," she repeated. "No, we don't teach them to murder or torture. They learn to make healing draughts, for example, or transfiguring one object into another, or charms to move items they cannot carry."

"Those are supposed to be children?" The man snorted. "They look like they're about to shoot us. And we all know that your kind can look like whatever they want to look like!"

"You are seeing only what you want to see," Professor McGonagall said sharply. "These are children, almost all the magical children between eleven and seventeen in our country. They're our hope for a better future!"

"No," the man bit. "They're our future enemies. If those are real children, which is a big if, they're just the next generation of our enemies." He turned to the people behind him. "Don't you see the murder in their eyes? Those supposed children are little monsters, set to grow up just like their parents! I say kill them before they get the chance!"

There was cheering and roaring behind him, and all around the now-visible campsite, but Harry thought he also saw quite a few people shifting. Not everyone was comfortable fighting children, and not all of those people could make themselves believe that the students were only pretending to be children. But there were many who still looked eager, their faces now lit up by the glowing orbs, looking out over the children; many cheering, egging each other on. Too many. The children did look battle-ready, Harry supposed. There hadn't been enough time from McGonagall's snap-decision to try talking to the Muggles to get all the students looking terrified and maybe crying. But the Muggles were also riled up, mob-spirit overriding rational thought.

"We are not your enemies!" Professor McGonagall exclaimed. "Some witches and wizards do evil, yes, but that's just the worst of us, just like the worst Muggles hurt other people. Most of us are not like that, most of us just want peace. Magic is so much more than what you've seen! It can be used for so much good!"

"And yet you don't!" The man yelled. He was beyond reason. "Where are the wizards protecting people? Where are the healers? If magic can be used for that, it's all the more unforgivable that you just kill and maim and torture!"

"Drop the outer Protego layer," Professor Flitwick commanded behind the wards. "Be ready everyone. Just don't let them see you casting, and do not attack until I say so."

"We are not all like that!" Professor McGonagall exclaimed again. "Our people can live together, we do not need to fight!"

The man smiled humorlessly. "Oh, but we do. You see, we have no intention of letting your kind rule over us." With that, he pulled a grenade from his pocket, tore out the pin, and threw it at her. Her wand flicked upwards and the explosive flew into the air, away from humans, where it exploded harmlessly. But the action left her open and in that same moment, three more bottles were flung at her from the distant repelling line, and slammed into the woman even as Harry – standing right behind her inside the wards – yelled an inaudible warning.

Flames exploded around her body, reaching high like a bonfire before she collapsed, because she had not shielded up before leaving the wards. Harry looked up in shock as the man pulled a gun and shot repeatedly at the burning body to make sure she was really dead.

"Take this as a warning," the man yelled. "You are not undefeatable, and we will not accept your superiority!"

Harry just stared at him, and at the people behind him, still bathed in light from the bulbs which had been Minerva McGonagall's last magic. The man was shouting something more, and Flitwick was yelling to reactivate the Disillusionment, but it passed Harry by as he looked at the mass of people in a wave of disbelief. And in that moment, finally watching the Muggles closely in full light, he noticed that many of them were holding the same peculiar shapes in their hands. He squinted, and his heart sank when he saw what the items were.

Gas masks.

In a rush of insight he realized that while the smoke from the Molotov Cocktails, grenades and fireworks that still clung to the air hadn't penetrated deeply into the camp site, it had managed to pass through the wards, and that the Muggles would have seen that when the Disillusionment was lifted. And he realized that he could smell gasoline and burning, even though all the explosions had happened outside the wards. The shield blocked objects and probably liquids, but it was clearly permeable to gases.

"Bubbleheads!" He screamed, at the same time the man yelled "Now!". His wand snapped up. "Sonorus! CAST BUBBLEHEADS! Bublio!" Behind the speaker, people jumped into motion and sudden blasts rang through the night sky.

Hermione woke up with the taste of blood in her mouth. She felt a little faint, but not hurt. She was lying on something hard and wet... the floor?

She opened her eyes and the world spun a moment, but there was Xare, sitting on her chest, her eyes looking wet. The bird gave a soft caw and fluttered up.

Where am I?

She sat up and looked around, thoughts coming sluggishly at first. Was this... her parents' house? How had she got here?

The platform... The soldiers... As memory returned slowly, she felt queasy. She was sure she had been very close to death. Xare must have taken her to safety, healed her...

The forest! How long had she been unconscious? The clock said it was five past two, but what time had it been when she left?

With a jump, Hermione was on her feet, Xare on her arm in the same instant. Get us back!

Almost none of the older years got the Bubblehead Charm off before the tear gas grenades hit.

Harry watched, helpless to do anything, as the shield just evaporated, the people maintaining it no longer able to concentrate as they were doubling over, coughing, choking. The next volley of tear gas grenades fell all over the camp site, where maybe one in ten of the remaining students had managed to cast a Bubblehead Charm, and then another rain of explosives hit, this time not blocked. "Prismatis!"

The timely prismatic wall took the hit, but Harry was flung to the ground by the impact, the breath knocked from his body. Dizzy for some moments, he finally lifted his head from the ground to look at what was happening around him.

The sight that met his eyes was one he would never forget.

Broken bodies were scattered across the ground. How many were merely unconscious, how many had died in that instant? Wizards and witches could take more than Muggles, their bodies' natural magic preventing the worst injuries, but there were limits, even with purely mundane damage. Men (and women?) in gas masks ran through the chaos; the Muggle repelling line must have fallen along with the rest. Some had brought guns and were firing at the many wounded, others were throwing explosives. Children were screaming in pain, others merely flailing around on the ground, coughing and choking. Others were still up, Bubblehead Charms active. surrounded by Protego shields or Prismatic Spheres. There was a glimpse of golden fire in the distance – Hermione? Curses were flying around, the attackers falling where they stood, but they were too many. It was the chaos of battle, as half the school had been training in for most of the year, but this time it was lethal, and not everyone had been part of an army. Children, their black robes charred or burning, were falling, or blasted away by all kinds of explosives. Fires were spreading from tree to tree, burning those who had been knocked out, or who were too heavily wounded to move. Blood spilled out in liters, and in the distance someone screamed a word:

"Avada Kedavra!"

The small part of Harry that wasn't screaming at the sight realized that the attackers were never going to survive this. They didn't know what they were dealing with, so they had made assumptions and stupidly thought that they could win an actual battle against an unknown foe, where the other side had magic. Too many of the older students already wore bubbleheads, and they had shields that could withstand anything that wouldn't also kill the people nearby, and Professor Quirrell had taught them the Killing Curse, and they had seen their friends die in front of their eyes and could easily summon up the hatred required...

Do these people deserve to die?

Harry honestly didn't know. These were child-murderers and bigoted vigilantes proud in their ignorance, but they were also fathers and brothers who were frightened and might believe that they were just doing what was necessary. One thing was certain, though. If this massacre ended with all the attacking Muggles dead, it would become very hard to achieve peace.

He jumped up.

"Sonorus! DO NOT KILL THEM! IT WILL ONLY MAKE THINGS WORSE! ARMIES, WORK TOGETHER! USE BUBBLE-HEADS! Finite."

There was a moment where the curses stopped, and Muggle heads turned to look around for the source of the sound. And then other voices went up in the brief silence.

"Pinini Army, to me!"

"Mighty Bulls!"

"Gryffindors, protect the fallen!"

"Expecto Patronum!"

"Hetero Protego!"

A shimmering blue sphere appeared around Harry just as another explosion hit, and he was thrown backwards, saved only by the powerful shield some anonymous student had cast on him at the last moment. His body hurt like hell – had he broken bones in his back? – and he didn't think he could stand up anymore, so he just kept lying there. Just a few moments. There were more screams around, he heard, more choking and gasping, still more explosions. But there were also curses, and there was co-ordination. Children were working together with each other now, applying everything Professor Quirrell had taught them...

Draco was coughing, retching; his eyes burned, his throat was on fire. He'd dropped his wand somewhere, but he couldn't see, so he couldn't cast –

"Karete Rif. Bublio."

Instantly, his eyes cleared and a bubble appeared over his head. He blinked and looked up, seeing a fourth- or fifth-year Hufflepuff girl who was already moving away, running towards the next spluttering student.

His wand! Draco looked down and located it quickly. Now he could –

Blam! Draco's head snapped to the left where, not six feet away, a Muggle was shooting some kind of Muggle wand at the already falling body of the Hufflepuff.

No. This can't be happening. This can't be real.

With a smooth motion, the Muggle turned his black wand to Draco.

"Prismatis!" Draco reacted by sheer reflex just as another loud bang! emanated from the Muggle's wand, and something bounced off the prismatic shield.

"Somnium! Prismatis!" A girl's voice. In the chaos of the battle, he hadn't seen Padma approach, but now she was standing right next to him, extending his shield.

"It won't hold for the bigger explosions," she panted, "but I don't think they'll dare do that, with their own people running around here."

Draco didn't respond. He was still staring at the Hufflepuff, who was slowly bleeding out on the ground. And now that he was looking, he saw more bodies strewn around the forest ground. He felt sick to the core.

"Snap out of it, General!" Padma bit. "We need to regroup, get more people behind the shield."

It was the "General" that did it. Draco breathed deeply and nodded. This was not the time to be in shock. Fortunately, he had almost a year of training to fall back on. He looked around, forcing himself not to stare at the fallen.

"Bones!" He yelled, spotting the first-year behind a tree nearby. "Cover us. Padma, retreat to that oak!"

Neville was backed against a tree, three Muggles approaching with some kind of metal thing they were using as a shield. His prismatic shield had blocked the first shots they'd aimed at him, but now one of them was holding some small metal ball. He didn't know what it was, but it couldn't be good.

There was nothing for it. He dropped his shield and ran towards the attackers. "Special attack, Chaotic Leap!"

He didn't know who caught him – they probably weren't chaotic legionnaires, because he was twisted sideways, like the levitation hadn't been coordinated well or was done by a single, stronger person, but it was enough. With three quick Somniums, his attackers fell down. He landed in a roll, and looked around for whoever might need his assistance.

The shimmering blue shield around Harry had disappeared long seconds ago, but Harry was already on his feet, wand in hand, ready for a Prismatis but not yet casting it; you couldn't cast spells from behind a prismatic shield, and others might need his help. There was shouting all around, but it was hard to see far through the smoke drifting everywhere. He took a tentative step, ignoring the pain in his body, looking around.

Someone grabbed him from behind and yanked his head back hard against a tree, snapping the bubble. His wand was wrested from his grip, and a gun placed against his forehead. In his last second, Harry stared into a pair of blue eyes, full of hatred...

The man collapsed. Petunia Evans-Verres was standing behind the man with a thick branch in her hands. And there was another gunshot, and she gasped, and fell heavily on the ground as blood burst from her chest, and there wasn't time to do anything, only a wish that this wasn't happening...

But this time, Harry had no Patronus to protect him, or the people he loved.

Another gunshot cracked, and the masked man who had shot at them fell over.

The normally-so-dignified Professor Verres-Evans, his clothes torn and splattered with blood threw the gun away, and limped towards his wife and child. "Petunia!"

Suddenly, a golden light filled the forest, and a will of some kind pressed down on Harry. The screams cut off abruptly, and everything froze. Father's progress stopped. The student running past Harry halted in mid-bounce.

Dumbledore.

A shrill and wonderful sound pierced the forest, as the phoenix sang its battle cry, and as the masked men fell to the ground in a surge of power, the fires went out, and the golden light crept over the ground, surrounded defenders and attackers alike, healing their wounds where it passed.

He really was the most powerful wizard in the world.

But time had slowed down, not stopped. Harry couldn't move his head, couldn't yell, couldn't cast any spell, as he watched his mother die in slow-motion.

Blood fell from her chest and mouth, at a speed of one meter per minute.

Her eyes started to widen. Her mouth started to open.

And then the golden light reached her and enveloped her; her chest healed, the bullet that hit her dropped to the ground.

But it was already too late. Her eyes continued to widen, her mouth continued to gasp, and then time resumed. A small shock ran through her body and she exhaled, just as Harry could finally move again and half-jumped half-fell to her side.

"No, Mum, please don't."

There was a small ripple of something in the air, a feeling of care and worry, of curiosity and frustration, silly giggles and gossiping and an immense amount of love, of all that she was; a ripple that was soft and almost inaudible and yet too vast to be understood, and it faded before Harry could get a grasp on it, as the light in her eyes dimmed.

No...

Michael Verres-Evans knelt down beside him, his face screwed up in agony, as he put his hand on his wife's neck. He hadn't felt it, like Harry had, but he had seen it happen.

"Please tell me magic can undo this." His voice choked.

"There is no magic that can bring back the dead," Harry intoned hollowly. "Yet."

"Maybe science can..." Michael turned his tear-streaked face to Harry. "Her brain wasn't hit, if we can get a doctor to her now –"

"We can't." Even if he found Hermione, and got her to use Xare to move Mum into an emergency room on the spot, the enmity between Muggles and wizards would mean that she was more likely to be attacked there than helped. "But I can do this." He grabbed his wand from where it still lay on the ground, leveled it at the body, and poured everything down his arm into his hand...

"Frigideiro!"

"Hypothermia?" Professor Verres breathed as Petunia's body cooled down. "Can you get it to 5 degrees exactly?"

Harry nodded. It'd been one of the spells he and Hermione had experimented with, a lifetime ago, so he was able to control it exactly. The cold would protect her from brain damage. "But I'm not sure what chance a doctor would have, even if we got her to one before she warms up."

Father hadn't felt it, the outpouring of something as she died. But Harry had.

There's something more to dying than your brain not working anymore.

"But I'll find some way of using magic to do it." He was half-speaking to himself.

"You just said that there was no magic to bring back the dead." Tears were streaking father's face.

"Yet."

"Harry, you're eleven."

"Maybe. But I'm not going to let that stop me." Harry looked into his father's eyes, his gaze turning cold. "I already did two things believed impossible, this year. I will do this too. I swear. On everything I hold sacred, I swear, I will challenge Death and bring Mum back, and my other parents too, and Professor McGonagall, and the people who died last week... Everyone."

He expected his father to protest, with all the usual too young and Petunia would not have wanted you nonsense. But the professor just shook his head sadly, and looked down at his wife's body.

"It was your voice, wasn't it?" He asked a while later. "Shouting not to kill them?"

Harry just nodded.

"And I did kill." His voice sounded pained, now, and he stared at his hands. "I'm sorry. I can't even believe I did that. If you'd asked me yesterday whether I would ever... But when I saw that man shoot at you and Petunia –"

Harry said nothing. He just hugged his father long and hard.

"You're not a child anymore." It wasn't a question, just an observation. "I don't know whether you've gone into puberty or just skipped it, but you're not who you were before. You're taking command, deciding on other people's lives. And people listen. What happened to you?"

"I grew up," Harry said simply.

They sat in silence, waiting for whatever might come next.

With a flash of phoenix fire, Dumbledore appeared by their side. He looked older than Harry had ever seen him. It took the man only a moment to take in the sight of Petunia's body, and he choked back a pained groan.

"Headmaster," Harry said icily. "Where were you, when a bomb was about to hit the school and the children in your care had to be evacuated? And where were you when a mob of crazy Muggles attacked them?"

"Later," the Headmaster bit. "Dr. Verres, can I take you elsewhere? I have no capacity to protect you better here than in another place, and I fear for what the survivors may do when they realize that there is still a Muggle among them."

"A hospital would be good," Michael Verres-Evans grunted. "She's still 5 degrees, isn't she, Harry?"

Harry nodded. He had been regularly reinforcing the Frigideiro. His father gently took the body of his wife in his arms.

"Not Britain," Harry urged. "Not anywhere where You-Know-Who would find him. Go to a dark alley or something, don't let them see you phoenix in."

"I am not a fool," Dumbledore answered harshly. "I think I have seen a bit more of war than you have, young Ravenclaw, even counting your experiences in the last week."

Harry nodded. "I had to be sure."

"You're not coming?" his father asked.

"No dad, going into the Muggle world would be suicide, even if it's not Britain. It'll be hard enough for you to explain what happened without fearing that they'll attack me. But we will see each other again. I promise."

"I love you, son..."

Then Dumbledore reached out for his arm and the two of them disappeared with a flash of fire.

Harry found Hermione and Neville together, mourning over the corpse of Hannah Abbott. The girl, apparently, had bubbled up in time, but then jumped into a fight with two of the Muggles as they were shooting at children still blinded by the tear gas.

Ron Weasley had died in a similar way, as had several other Gryffindors; too brave to stay behind and hide and leave the older students with fully functional Protego shields to protect the unconscious and blinded and sneezing students. Undoubtedly, the outcome was better because they had fought. Su had lived, because Neville had pulled her out of a fire. Cho Chang, the second-year seeker, had managed to drag herself away when Ron engaged the Muggles throwing Molotov Cocktails in her direction. Several students had been saved by Parvati's use of Aguamenti on any burning bodies she saw. The heroic students had saved many who would otherwise not have lived. But the price had been really, really high.

The battle had lasted not five minutes, but in that time, about 80 of the approximately 700 Hogwarts students had died, and two members of staff: Professor McGonagall and Professor Vector. Most of the dead students had died in the first minute of the battle, when explosives rained down just as the shield had fallen. Many had been wounded, but they lived, and would soon be well again; between two Phoenixes and magical healing, gun wounds and third-degree burns were almost trivial.

Ernie MacMillan had died. Zacharias Smith. Pansy Parkinson. Michael Corner. Ron Weasley. Hannah Abbot. Roderick Murphy. Fay Dunbar. Kate Olney. Nitin Divekar. Mildred Peebles. Terry Boot. And those were just the ones from Harry's year.

Harry fought back his tears. To cry was to give up, and he wasn't going to give up. He had promised the Demented last Monday that he would find a way, and he'd promised his father today, and he would. He would bring them all back, no matter how. Hermione hadn't frozen Hannah, and Harry had been in too much shock to think about doing it for any other casualties than his mother before it was too late, but given the impossibility to sustain the temperature for long, and the expected lack of co-operation from the families, that wasn't likely to have helped regardless. There would just have to be another way.

He sat himself down by Hermione and Neville in silence, but he didn't mourn. He thought.

"It's my fault," Hermione whispered eventually.

Harry just looked at her. "No more than it is mine."

"What are you talking about?" Neville protested. "If you hadn't dragged all those unconscious children to your parents' house it would have been far worse!"

"I was responsible," she said with a choke. "If only I hadn't been too preoccupied with escape to consider that we might have to fight! If only I'd protested when Professor McGonagall said that the most vulnerable children should be together, rather than mixed with the stronger students – I'm an army general, I should have realized that that was a lethal mistake! If only I'd thought to send my Patronus to Professor Dumbledore straight away. How could I not have thought of that? If only I'd reacted a little sooner to those soldiers, or gone to the Amazon first..."

Harry just threw an arm around her, and held her tight as she sniffled on his shoulder. He couldn't say that she shouldn't blame herself, because it would be unfair to deny her the guilt that he assigned to himself as well. But they could at least give each other some comfort.