The Potter Conspiracy

A/N: Thanks for reading and reviewing!  I appreciate the feedback.

Disclaimer: Don’t own it.

Chapter Twenty-Five – Tempus Fugit

November 22nd, 1995 – outside Bristol

“Shhh, Christopher…don’t make a noise,” came the urgent whisper.

Christopher Lambert nodded obediently in the darkness and tried not to whimper, gripping his mum tightly.  The only sound he could hear was the tense breathing of his mother and father as they listened for noise in their house.

They were huddled into the closet of the master bedroom, hoping against hope that the noise from the yard had been local hooligans rather than wizards.  It did not pay to be a squib in the present climate.

A loud crash suddenly echoed throughout the house, and all three of the Lamberts flinched violently.  Martin shakily pointed a handgun at the door to the closet, knowing that he might have to defend his family with his life.

He had obtained it illegally only three weeks ago, and he wasn’t entirely sure how to use it.

The sounds of muffled whispering and intermittent crashes reached their ears, and the family of squibs knew that it was only a matter of time before their hiding place was discovered.  Whoever was in their house was certainly not there to visit.

Christopher’s eyes spilled silent tears and he pressed his face more firmly into his mother’s breast, desperate for the situation to be over.

As the voices grew nearer to their hiding place, Martin cocked the gun and pointed it unsteadily at the door, ready to pull the trigger the moment it was opened.

There was a hushed whispering outside the door, then several things happened at once.

The door to the closet suddenly exploded inward in a shower of wooden shrapnel, causing all three inhabitants to shriek in surprise.  The gun went off in Martin’s hands four times, nearly deafening the family in such a tight space.  Christopher wailed in terror and tried to crawl over his mother into the safety of the hanging clothes.

The noise quickly ceased as the gun flew from Martin’s hands and into the waiting grasp of a tall young man in red Auror robes.

“Fucking muggle toys,” the man spat, standing in front of the ruined door to the closet.  “You’re pathetic, squib.”

The man, whom Dana Lambert noticed was handsome and perhaps 25 years old, tossed the handgun over his shoulder and leveled his wand at the family.

“P-please, leave us be,” pled Martin. “We don’t have anything you want.  We can’t hurt you.  Please.”

The Auror snorted and looked at a short, balding man in similar robes who stepped into the family’s view.

“Look at this sad sack of shite, Reggie; whining like a little baby…don’t worry, squibbie, we’ll find a use for you before it’s all said and done.”

Though the men wore Ministry robes, just two months ago no one would have known them for Aurors.  Their demeanor carried no trace of professionalism or common courtesy.

The tall man stunned Martin without further comment, and then reached in to the closet to pull his limp body out.  Dana tried to hold on to her husband and shield her son at the same time, but it was to no avail.

“No!” she screamed.  “Please!  I’ll do anything you want.  Please don’t hurt us.”

“It turns me on when they beg like that, don’t it you, Darren?” replied the short, balding Auror, and his smile made Dana shiver in terror.

The squat man reached into the closet and tried to yank Christopher forcefully from her arms.  She refused to let go, and her tight grip on him pulled the pair completely out of the closet.

Newly minted Auror Reggie Cates, fresh from a stint in Azkaban, kicked the woman brutally in the ribs.

“Let go, ya bloody slag,” he hissed, and slammed his boot heel into her nose.

Dana cried out as blood poured from her nose and she lost her hold on her son.  Christopher screamed in terror as Reggie held him up by the arm.

“Please, I beg you,” she whimpered through her tears, “He’s only seven!  Seven!  Don’t hurt him.  Please…please let him go.”

The tall Auror, Darren Kilgore, a distant relative of Pansy Parkinson, bent down and whispered to the desperate woman.

“He’s a dirty little squib, just like his dirty squib whore of a mum.  Maybe he’d like to see just how much of a slut his mother is, hmmm?”

Kilgore laughed at the sound of despair that came from the woman’s bleeding mouth, amused by her continued pleas.

“Le’ go!  Lemme go!” Christopher screamed in fright, twisting in Reggie’s arms and trying to return to his mother’s embrace.

“Oy, watch it, you little turd!” laughed Reggie, and kneed the little boy in the stomach, sending him crashing to the ground with no breath in his lungs.

“Shall we take them in, or have a little fun with the missus first, Darren? She’s got black hair—you know how Leonard likes the dark ones.  We should call him in.”

“That’s a capital idea,” Darren smiled.  “Go get the both of them, and I’ll be sure to keep the lovely lady entertained.”

Reggie, finding this immensely amusing, laughed at the look of horror that crossed Dana’s face, but both men suddenly fell silent when a bright light reflected across the ceiling of the room.  It had clearly come from outside.

The two looked at each other apprehensively for a moment.

“What do you reckon that was?”

“Dunno.  Likely Leonard was just having some fun, but…maybe we should just take the squibs and leave.”

Kilgore considered this proposition for a moment.

“Nah, Travers would ha—,” he began, but stopped when a thin bright light sped through the darkness of the room and struck him right between the eyes.

His head rocked back and he collapsed to the floor in a heap, blood oozing from the wound in his forehead and his brains leaking out the back.

Reggie stared dumbstruck at his downed partner for a moment, then looked up incredulously at the darkened door to the hallway.  He could see nothing, but knew there was someone there when Christopher was summoned from his grasp and sent careening into his mother.

He had just enough time to raise a shaky shield before a bludgeoning curse flew from the doorway and obliterated it, sending him reeling into the rear wall with a loud crunch.

He shook his head and tried to move, but soon realized that he was embedded within the drywall.  He looked up dazedly and saw the outline of a man shimmer into existence before him.  He watched in shock as the man snapped his wand and then leaned toward him.

“I heard what you said,” whispered the face, whose features he could now clearly see.  “The only reason you’re still alive is because that little boy is watching.”

Reggie tried to stutter out a response, but he was disoriented by his injuries and stunned that the person speaking to him so chillingly was a mere teenager.  A famous one.

“Please,” he choked out, alarmed by the look he saw in the brilliant green eyes before him.  “I’ll—,” he began, but the wand that was pointed at his head fired a spell and everything went black.

“I told you to wait!” said a huffing voice from behind him, and Harry Potter looked up to see a pink-haired Tonks standing in the darkened doorway.  Her eyes roamed the room for threats, but there was nothing more to see but the whimpering boy in his mother’s arms.

“Sorry,” Harry shrugged.  “It sounded like they were about to apparate away.”

“Yes, well, don’t do it again.  Good job, I suppose,” muttered Tonks, entering the room and waving her wand over Harry’s first victim.

“He’s dead,” Harry said dispassionately.  “The other one’s stunned if you want to take him.  What happened outside?”

Tonks muttered to herself and moved to examine the man embedded in the wall.  “Jules and I took out two bad guys outside….using stunners, I might add.”

Harry ignored her implied criticism and knelt next to the whimpering boy and his shaking mother.  She was gripping him tightly, and seemed unable to speak.

“Are you alright?” Harry asked him gently.  He was still shivering in fear against his mother, breathing as if every breath might be his last.

“You’re safe now.  Those men can’t hurt you,” he whispered, trying to sound soothing.  “Let’s get your dad up and about, shall we?”

Harry enervated the boy’s father, though it took a moment for him to come to, then applied a mild healing charm to the mother’s face.  She perked back up immediately and took in her surroundings in confusion.  Her eyes settled on Harry and she began crying in relief.

“Oh, thank God; thank God,” she wept, and hugged the now sobbing little boy to her chest.

“Thank you; thank you so much,” she cried at Harry and Tonks, who were both observing the scene quietly.

Martin Lambert nodded at the pair silently and knelt to embrace his wife and son in a massive hug.

“You’re welcome,” Harry replied sincerely.  “Glad we could help.  But it’s a house elf you should really be thanking.”

“You need to come with us now, ma’am, sir,” Tonks added in an official tone.  “There isn’t time to pack your things, but someone will come back with you tomorrow.  We need to leave here immediately.”

Martin Lambert nodded and helped his injured wife and son to their feet.

Tonks pulled a small ring from her pinkie finger and enlarged it to the size of a frisbee.  Harry removed the stunned man from the wall and levitated his body on top of his dead partner’s, where he dropped it roughly.  He stepped on both of their bodies so that they would be portkeyed out as well.

Their group was soon joined by Savage, who stepped into the bedroom levitating two other stunned bodies behind him.

When everyone was gathered in a circle and grabbing the ring, Tonks made eye contact with each person in the group.  Satisfied that they were ready, she nodded and spoke the activation phrase.

“Victory,” she said, and the group disappeared in a bright flash of light.

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Bones Manor; Front Lawn

The next morning found a small group consisting of Harry, Tonks, Proudfoot, and Savage gathered on the Bones Manor front lawn.  It was time for Harry’s daily training session, and he would be facing off against all three of them.

It had been almost a month since the fight to control the wizarding wireless.  Since Auror Blankenship had died while saving Harry’s life.

No one mentioned it to him anymore, and he appeared to be handling it well, but it was evident to all observers that Harry had a harder edge now.  In operations against the Ministry or Death Eaters, he employed a ruthlessness that even the most hardened fighters in Bones’ group noticed.  His first spells were invariably lethal ones, as Ministry Auror Darren Cates learned the previous evening.

The last few weeks had provided Harry with invaluable fighting experience and training.  Though there were no large-scale battles between Voldemort’s forces and those allied with Bones, there were plenty of smaller skirmishes in the fight for Britain’s future.

The house elves of Hogwarts, Bones Manor, and several other light families were being used to perform reconnaissance throughout muggle and magical Britain.  Whenever Death Eaters or Ministry Aurors showed up to snatch someone, a team from Bones Manor would respond and put up a fight.

The raids of Bones’ teams were mostly successful, and they were slowly chipping away at Ministry resources.  The trouble was that even the House Elves couldn’t be everywhere at once.  Given the size of England, it was often a matter of blind luck that the elves were able to detect and locate a potential conflict in time.

The resulting situation was that much of magical Britain had gone into hiding.  Madam Bones’ speech to the masses had finally convinced many confused citizens that a true civil war was being waged in their midst.  Those without adequate hiding places often tried to seek the protection of Hogwarts, and several of Harry’s missions had involved protecting refugees from Ministerial harassment.

Even those refugees who arrived safely in Hogsmeade, however, could not be guaranteed safe passage to Hogwarts.  The village was contested territory.  Ministry Aurors patrolled the streets in teams, some lying in wait for unsuspecting passersby.  Order members and Aurors from Bones’ teams stood guard secretly, helping out whenever they could, but rarely risking a major engagement.  There were a few small skirmishes here and there, but for the most part people went about their business as quietly and inconspicuously as they could.

Other magical locations in England, particularly Diagon Alley, had become virtual ghost towns.  With the Ministry consolidating power, it was particularly unsafe to visit Gringotts.  The only people who could safely walk the streets were well-known purebloods or those who had already sworn an oath of allegiance to the Ministry.  Those unwilling to do so had simply disappeared.

Minister Fudge had reassured everyone in the Daily Prophet that the situation was under control, and that the Ministry’s measures were aimed only at preserving the peace that Bones, Dumbledore, and Potter were threatening.  Not many believed it.  There were rumors of executions and kidnappings, and most of the muggleborn and squib population were unaccounted for.  Bones and Croaker dearly hoped they were in hiding.

Their side had received a boost when a dozen of the true Aurors from the Ministry finally saw the writing on the wall and abandoned their posts.  Their initial loyalty to the Ministry was forgiven once they passed a veritaserum test.  With their ranks swelling, Bones and Croaker knew that they were becoming ready to handle a large-scale fight.

Both were worried that one was coming soon, and both expected it to take place in Hogsmeade.

Today Harry’s training would involve perfecting the idea that had occurred to him several weeks previously: to use wandless magic to levitate a shield while fighting, allowing him to attack and defend simultaneously.  If he could spell-chain his attacks against his enemies while maintaining a portable shield for cover, he would become a fearsome opponent.

The trouble with his idea was two-fold.  First, it took absurd levels of concentration to perform wandless and wanded magic simultaneously.  Second, his shield, a polished orb of steel that leapt into existence when he unshrank it, could not sustain many powerful hits.

Hermione and an Unspeakable were working on ways to provide Harry with multiple metal shields, and on how to enchant the shield for strength.  His current shield was destroyed instantly by a direct hit from a killing curse.

So while others worked on research, Harry focused on gaining control of his wandless magic.  He soon learned that it was limited to light summoning and levitation, but it was enough to get the job done.  With daily practice, he had grown adept at levitating the shield before him almost unconsciously.

“Alright, Harry-kins,” said Tonks, twirling her wand casually, “just stingers from you today.  I don’t want to wake up in the hospital wing.”

“I won’t forget,” Harry smiled.  At a whispered word a small metal ball leapt from his hand and formed into an oval steel shield.  He levitated it before him with his hand.  “And you lot don’t forget that you’re just using stunners.”

“We won’t, Potter,” Savage grinned, while Proudfoot snorted.  The tall blond Auror had gained some respect for Harry over the past few weeks, but he was still wary of his youth and inexperience.

At a nod from Harry, his three opponents stepped back and disillusioned themselves.  They would be attacking him from three directions simultaneously while he shielded himself and attempted to counter-attack.

If he managed a hit with his stinger, the opponent was considered dead.  If he was hit, he would wake up when they enervated him.

Harry stood stock-still and stared into the space around him, waiting for something to happen.  His first priority was to prevent someone from sneaking up on him.  His hearing and instincts had improved from such exercises, and he could usually tell when a spell was about to be sent his way.  His quidditch-honed reflexes paid huge dividends, and he could react to an incoming spell in an instant.

A silent stunner suddenly flew at him from six feet away, and Harry dodged it quickly rather than shield it.

He moved hurriedly to his right and waved the steel shield to his left as light erupted from that direction.  An array of stunners collided with his shield as he simultaneously sent a massive burst of water in the direction of the first attacker.

A shield sprang into existence ten feet away, and Harry painted the area with stingers while covering himself with the shield.  There was a startled yelp, and Savage lost his disillusionment.

“Shite!” he yelled, shaking his hand.

Harry ignored his small victory and turned back to the left, just in time to be met with a hail of nearly spell-chained stunners.  Another barrage opened further to his left, and he was forced to bring up a protego with his wand to fend off both attacks.

The barrage continued from both sides, and Harry had to remain defensive to avoid being stunned.  He grimaced at the concentration required to deflect so many spells at once.

Finally he sensed a lull in the pace to his right, and dropped his protego to unload a series of stingers in that direction.  They were blocked with a shield, but Harry had already sent an array at the attacker’s feet.  At least one of them hit.

Tonks yelped and materialized on the ground, rubbing one of her feet crossly.  Harry paid her no mind, but focused on where Proudfoot might be.  His fusillade had stopped when Tonks went down, and now Harry paced the ground warily, ready for anything.

He felt a sudden movement to his left, and instinctively ducked just as a stunner flew over his head at point-blank range.  Harry levitated the steel shield directly into the space occupied by Proudfoot, earning a loud grunt.

A single stinging hex later and Proudfoot was on the ground in front of him, rubbing his shoulder and looking very pissed off.

“You were only supposed to use stingers, Potter,” he groused.

Harry smiled and shrugged, happy with his victory.  “It wasn’t a spell, so it wasn’t against the rules.  You’re just a sore loser.”

“Hmph,” Proudfoot grumbled.  “Don’t get cocky, Potter—we’re only using stunners.”

“And I was only using stingers,” Harry grinned.  “But don’t worry—that was only the second time I got all of you.  The hero gets to win sometimes too, doesn’t he?”

“That he does,” Tonks agreed, joining her colleague.  “Well done, Harry-kins.  You’re getting faster by the day.  If they can find a way to get you more than one shield, you’re really going to whip some arse.”

“Too bloody right,” Savage muttered, and gingerly held up his dangling hand.  “I lost all feeling in my hand!”

Tonks snickered and hit Savage in the bum with a stinger of her own, though it was much less powerful than Harry’s.  “You should see his piercing curse, luv.  I call it the ‘Potter Special.’  You don’t want to be on the other end of it; trust me.”

Harry grinned at the by-play between the two, and now saw what Parvati meant when she insisted that Tonks and Savage were a couple.  They were never openly affectionate, but there was just enough intimacy there to suggest that the pair were more than friends.  Tonks called everybody ‘luv,’ but it sounded different when she directed it at Savage.

“Get it together, Savage,” Proudfoot barked, wiping grass off his robes.  “Again, Potter.”

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An hour later, an exhausted Harry lay on the ground and stared up at the sky.  They had repeated the exercise dozens of times, and the score at the end was virtually even.  Harry won the early contests, some of them easily, but as time wore on it became harder for him to maintain his focus.  Proudfoot never hesitated to take advantage of him whenever his concentration wavered.

Proudfoot and Savage had returned to the Manor to clean up, but Tonks was sprawled out next to him, keeping him company as he recovered.

“You did good today, Harry.  You’re really earning everyone’s respect, you know that?”

“Mmmhmmm,” Harry murmured, so tired that he was unwilling to answer further.

“Just remember,” she began, then hesitated.  “Just remember to keep your cool when it’s the real thing.  Don’t start firing off killing curses at everything that moves.”

Harry opened an eye and regarded her.  “When have I ever fired a killing curse?”

“You haven’t,” Tonks supplied quickly, “but remember that we need to take prisoners sometimes.”

Harry closed his eyes and exhaled.  “I know.  But I’m not going to stun those people in a fight, Tonks.  If they’re working for Voldemort, they’re as good as dead.  But I won’t execute them if they’re defenseless.”

“I know,” Tonks replied, and ruffled his already messy hair.  “I’m just making sure you’re alright.  Are you still doing those meditation exercises?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry muttered.  “Parvati practices with me every day.”

“I’ll bet she does,” Tonks grinned.  “Is she wearing any clothes when she does?  Because you know that’s not really meditation.”

Harry flushed only a little at Tonks’ insinuation and stuck out his tongue at her.  “She’s always fully-clothed, for your information.  And, yes, we do meditate.”

“Well, keep doing whatever it is you’re doing, Harry,” she smiled.  “It seems to be working.  Your mood is a lot better and your concentration improves every day.”

“Thanks, mum,” Harry murmured, his eyes still closed.  “Now leave me alone, please.”

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Bones Manor; The Infirmary

“Knock, knock,” Harry said loudly as he strode into the room.

Parvati, Susan, and Hermione looked up at him from the poultices they were preparing for the healers.

“I need to borrow Parvati for an important meeting,” he said to the group, smiling at Parvati.

Susan snickered loudly.  “I’ll bet…and what kind of ‘information’ will be exchanged at this meeting?”

“That’s classified, I’m afraid,” Harry grinned, and held out his hand for Parvati.

Parvati finished the poultice she was preparing and wiped her hands on an apron she wore over her t-shirt.  She quickly took off the apron and moved to Harry’s side, where she wrapped her arm around his bicep.

Harry smiled at her and turned to look at Hermione.

“Any more luck on the bracer, Hermione?”

“I’m going to try again this afternoon,” she replied politely, if tensely.  “Unspeakable Bungard thinks we can make it work soon.”

“Thanks.  That will be a big help when it’s ready.”

“I’ll do my best, Harry,” she promised, and he knew she would.

For the past few weeks, Hermione had been doing whatever she could to re-earn Harry’s trust and respect.  They had had a long conversation about why she betrayed him in the first place, wherein she had tearfully explained that she was just a stupid little girl who made a bad mistake.  It didn’t assuage his bitterness to hear her reasons, but he was glad she was able to speak openly and make a full confession.

Her loyalty to him had been overpowered by the respect she had for Dumbledore, but now she was beginning to understand how mistaken her assumptions had been.

“The twins say their extendable ears are getting better too,” she added.  “I think we might be able to get rid of the string soon.”

“Good,” smiled Harry.  “That will be a really useful way to spy.  Malfoy could be watched 24 hours a day.”

Since Harry had informed everyone about the twins’ invention, Hermione had been corresponding with them about ways to improve it.  Her mood had improved greatly as she found more and more things to do to help the war effort.

When the conversation appeared over, Parvati squeezed Harry’s arm and spoke to the room.

“Sorry, girls; duty calls, you know,” she said, smiling brightly.  “I’ll talk to you later.”

She pulled on Harry’s arm, and the two left the room together.

Parvati didn’t miss the look of disappointment that flashed across Hermione’s eyes when they left.  She had been very good about giving both of them their space, but it was clear that she was jealous of the amount of time that Parvati now spent with Harry.  She had been supplanted, most likely forever, in Harry’s affections, and there was nothing she could do about it.  It was a bitter pill to swallow.

“You weren’t really doing anything important, were you?” Harry asked her in the hallway.

“I wouldn’t have let you drag me away to snog if I had been,” she smiled.

Harry gave her a look of confusion.  “Who said I wanted to snog?  I wanted to practice meditation again.”

Parvati looked at him closely, then grinned.  “You’re a terrible actor.”

When they made it to his room, she pushed him in gently and kicked the door shut behind her.

“So you finished your training and decided it was time to ravish your girlfriend, huh?”

Harry shrugged.  “Have you seen my girlfriend?  She’s bloody gorgeous, so you can hardly blame me.”

Parvati smiled widely at him.  Harry’s confidence was growing daily, and he could now flirt with her without blushing heavily.

The pair had been growing slowly closer over the past three weeks, particularly since Parvati started tutoring him in an Indian form of meditation.  The mastery of occlumency eluded him, but he had made progress in learning to relax and control his emotions under her guidance.

She was no expert in the art, but she knew enough to instruct Harry in the basics.  It gave them an excuse to spend time together, and helped Parvati feel like she was making a contribution to the war.

They rarely spoke of Benny Blankenship, or of Harry’s burning hatred for Bellatrix Lestrange, but she could tell that he thought of the fallen Auror often.  He had confessed to her that he regularly saw Bellatrix’ taunting face when he was training.

Their physical explorations had been limited to kissing and a little groping on top of their clothes.  They were progressing slowly, but at a rate they were both comfortable with.  After learning more about his childhood, she understood why he wasn’t more aggressive with girls.

Parvati giggled when he playfully pushed her onto the bed and then lay down next to her.  His mouth sought out hers, and soon their tongues were wrestling playfully.

Harry’s hands roamed up and down her sides, taking comfort in the warm body that was pressed against his.  Soon he let one pass gently across her breast, testing her reaction.  Parvati sighed into his mouth and deepened the kiss.

She picked up his hand and moved it underneath her shirt near her stomach, and Harry took the hint.  His hand gingerly explored the soft skin of her belly, slowing work its way north.  The heat radiating from her skin excited him immeasurably.

His hand came to rest on a silky-feeling bra, and his heart began racing as he felt the firm flesh beneath it.

“Just push it up,” Parvati whispered, drawing her mouth away from Harry’s just long enough to speak.

“Are you sure?”

At her nod, Harry gently pushed the bra up and over her breasts, letting his palm rest on her nipple.  He rubbed his palm gently across it, and it stood to greet his caress.  Parvati moaned and pulled his body closer.

Harry massaged her breast gently, in awe of its softness and firmness.  He wondered not for the first time in the past few weeks why he hadn’t pursued girls earlier.  Yet another thing he could blame on Dumbledore.

Before he could devote his attention to her other breast, Parvati grew impatient.

“Hang on,” she whispered, and sat up on the bed.  She pulled her t-shirt roughly over her head, then reached behind her back and undid her bra.  In a matter of seconds she lay topless before him.

“Wow,” Harry whispered, and pulled back to look at her.  “They’re…I mean…you’re beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she smiled shyly.  “Now don’t you think you should take your shirt off too?”

Harry obeyed, and the pair spent the next hour laughing and focusing on each other rather than the horrific things that lay outside Bones Manor.

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Malfoy Manor; The Dueling Room

Lucius Malfoy winced as a stray bludgeoning curse collided with the wall behind him, mere feet from his head.

He glared for a moment at Travers and then pulled his wand, lest he need to cast a shield for his own protection.

Travers glanced at him uneasily out of the corner of his eye.  “Right.  They’re not perfect, as you can see, but they’re getting better.”

Malfoy nodded and returned to watching the training exercise that their newest recruits were undergoing.  New Death Eaters and new Ministry Aurors were mixed together randomly, though all of them had in common a taste for violence and a thirst for unearned glory.

“Who’s the tall one with blond hair?” Malfoy whispered curiously.

“McTavish,” Travers replied.  “His grandmother was a half-blood, but he’s got the right attitude.  He spent some time in prison in France, and he’s good with a blasting curse.”

Malfoy nodded appreciatively.  “Good.  Make sure they’re all proficient with blasting curses and anything else with a wide-area effect…they’re going to be needed soon,” he added, looking Travers in the eyes.

Travers nodded, the message understood, and moved back into the melee to bark orders at his newest recruits.

Malfoy exited his own dueling room quietly.  It had been expanded to accommodate the training exercises, and was taking quite a beating on a daily basis.  With the war heating up, he had abandoned all pretense and begun training the Ministry’s newest employees at his own home, all of it under Travers’ watchful eye.

As he strode toward the guest wing of the Manor, Malfoy wondered absently how many of the men he had just watched would be alive in a week’s time.

He was now much more optimistic about their situation than he had been weeks ago.  A steady stream of thugs, mercenaries, and pureblood bigots had swelled the ranks of his Aurors and the Death Eaters, even if they routinely lost people in occasional skirmishes with Bones and her fighters.  The trouble was that these new recruits weren’t highly trained, and there was no telling how they would react against fighters with actual Auror training.  He knew they would find out all too soon.

Despite his optimism, Malfoy was still worried about the upcoming operation in Hogsmeade.  The Dark Lord wanted to control it or wipe it out as a prelude to isolating Hogwarts.  So far both sides had avoided open warfare in the small village, but that would end on the approaching full moon.

It was the timing that worried him.  The enemy would be ready for an attack at so obvious a time.  It was literally the only time of the month that werewolves could be utilized.  He himself had no trust for the filthy creatures, and neither did the Dark Lord really, but he had been unable to talk his Master out of the theatrics of it.  He only hoped that Greyback and his pack could create enough chaos to give them an advantage should a full-scale battle erupt.

As Malfoy stepped into his guest wing, he acknowledged the Death Eater guard in the parlor and paused a moment to watch two small children playing with animated figurines in the corner.  They seemed oblivious to the danger they were in, and he preferred it that way.  They were easily controlled with sweets and toys while their parents were ‘persuaded’ to cast their lot with the Death Eaters or the Ministry.

He left the children behind and forcefully threw open the door of an adjacent bedroom.  The door crashed against the wall, and an old man and his daughter who were sitting on the bed flinched at the sudden noise.

“Good afternoon, Lord Talbot,” Malfoy said ingratiatingly.  “I trust you have had enough time to make your decision.”

“Now see here, Lucius,” said Ezekiel Talbot in outrage, rising to his feet.  “I am a respected member of the Wizengamot, just as you are.  You cannot hold me here and threaten me without consequences.”

Malfoy simply stared at the man, allowing the silence to take on an ominous tone.  When he finally spoke, the old man had already begun to sweat.

“Consequences from whom, Ezekiel?  The Wizengamot exists only on paper, and only when I want it to.  Most of its members are in hiding, too afraid to leave their homes.”

The elderly Lord Talbot seemed to have no response to this.

“You are only here out of the goodness of my heart,” Malfoy continued.  “If it were up to my…superior…you would have been eliminated already.  Now are you ready to swear an oath of allegiance to the Ministry, or shall I call in my colleagues to test the strength of their spells on your grandchildren?”

The woman with Talbot bristled at Malfoy’s threat, but the old man put his hand on her forearm to calm her.

“You would do this to my family, Lucius?  A family with a name older than yours?  You bring shame on the Malfoy name.”

Malfoy hissed in annoyance at the old man.  “I grow tired of your disrespect, Talbot.  You are alive only because I am merciful.  You will swear an oath never to oppose the Ministry or its agents, or I will annihilate your family.  Choose.”

In truth Malfoy’s motives had little to do with mercy.  He was simply a more refined sadist than his Master.  Whereas Voldemort was willing to wipe out an entire society in blind rage, Malfoy understood the true dynamics of the master/slave relationship.  That is, it was impossible to have masters without slaves.  His ideal was a society based on pureblood superiority, where an elite few lorded it over the inferior populace.  He had no desire to slaughter his inferiors if they could be convinced to submit willingly.

Those like Talbot, who came from proper pureblood stock that were aligned with neither the Dark nor the Light, Malfoy thought it wise to preserve.  He had managed to talk the Dark Lord into refraining from murdering them for the time being.

When he didn’t receive an immediate answer from the proud patriarch, he pulled out his wand and took a step toward the door.

“Very well.  Perhaps you should say goodbye to your grandchildren.  It appears that the preservation of your bloodlines is less important to you than I thought.”

“No!” the young woman screamed, and Ezekiel Talbot sighed deeply and dropped his head to his chin.

“Wait,” he said softly, and Malfoy couldn’t resist smirking as he returned his wand to his robes.

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Twenty minutes later, seated at the ornate desk in his personal library, Malfoy made a mark in a ledger and smiled with satisfaction.  He closed the leather tome and pushed it away from him, then opened an inner drawer and pulled out a small journal.

It was old and weathered-looking, but the Malfoy coat of arms was emblazoned proudly on its cover.

The journal provided a safe means of communication with Draco at Hogwarts.  The younger Malfoy possessed a similar journal that would record whatever message the elder Malfoy wanted to send.  They rarely used them at the same time, but Lucius could convey protected messages to Draco whenever he felt the need.

He began to write, absentmindedly fingering the small silver ring behind his wedding band.  Much like the Weasleys’ clock, the ring gave him information about the state of Draco’s well-being and health.  It gave him much relief, to be frank, that the dark students at Hogwarts would have no role to play in the coming battle for Hogsmeade.

He had convinced the Dark Lord that it was better to keep the students out of Hogsmeade, just in case they should be needed for future operations within Hogwarts.  Truthfully, he didn’t want Draco participating in magical fights if it was avoidable.

Not only did he want to preserve his bloodline, but he knew that Draco was not nearly as skilled a magic-user as he fancied himself.  The boy was moderately powerful, it was true, but he lacked restraint and cunning.  He needed more experience before he was ready to play in such a high-stakes game.

Malfoy closed the journal and returned it to its resting place, then sighed and sat back against the chair.  He desperately wanted to get drunk and visit Belial’s, but there was no time to spare if he wanted to live through the next week.

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Hogwarts Castle; Astronomy Tower

Remus Lupin sighed and rubbed his forehead as he looked out over the grounds of Hogwarts.  The lights of Hogsmeade twinkled invitingly in the distance, belying the tension and fear that now pervaded the village.

He had just come from a meeting with Dumbledore, in which the aged Headmaster had yet again pled with him to approach the werewolves to gain intelligence.  Lupin knew that any such attempt would be met with instant death, but he found it hard to convey the futility of the idea to the old man without sounding like a coward.

He glanced behind him at the sound of the stone door opening.  Minerva McGonagall poked her head out and observed him, then stepped into the night air to join him.  She too had been in the meeting with Dumbledore, and Lupin guessed that she was here to console him.

She stood next to him and followed his gaze out toward Hogsmeade.

“He doesn’t really think you’re a coward, you know,” she said gently.  “He’s just very…frustrated.”

“I know,” Lupin sighed, and rubbed a hand through his graying hair.  “He thinks I could just spy on the werewolves like Severus infiltrated the Death Eaters.  They would smell my betrayal, Minerva.  It would be a waste of my life.”

“I understand,” she replied.  

The pair stood together in silence until McGonagall broke it, her voice laced with fatigue and sadness.

“He is not in control of the situation any longer, Remus,” she nearly whispered.  “He’s trying to reassert some of his old authority, but… I’m…I’m not certain that he knows what he’s doing.  Perhaps he is too old for this after all.”

Lupin raised an incredulous eyebrow at her remark.  McGonagall had always been Dumbledore’s most staunch supporter.  “I never expected to hear something like that from you,” he said softly.  “I knew things were strained between him and the staff, but…did something new happen?”

“No,” McGonagall sighed.  “I’ve just had some time to think about the past few years.  Albus has made some grave mistakes.  Mainly with Harry Potter.  And his supposed allies.  He kept all of us in the dark, and now we find ourselves at war with our own Ministry.”

Lupin nodded and then looked back toward the lights of the town.

“Harry Potter,” he murmured, somewhat bitterly, and shook his head.

McGonagall gave him a quizzical look.  “Do you mind if I ask you why you’re not closer to Harry?  With how close you were to James and Lily, I…well, I just don’t understand.”

Lupin didn’t answer her for a long while.

“I don’t want to be close to him,” he finally said.  “James and Lily betrayed me.”

“What?” asked McGonagall, shocked.

“They pushed me away.  I barely saw them that last year.  I found out later it was because they suspected I had gone dark.  That I was the spy.”

“I’m sorry, Remus,” McGonagall said after a few moments, squeezing his arm.  “I wasn’t privy to what was happening then.  But I’m sorry you didn’t get a chance to work it out with them.”

Lupin shrugged.  “Just a bad memory now.”

The two stared into the distance in companionable silence for several more minutes.  Neither had a desire to return to the increasingly cramped confines of the castle.  More than 1,000 refugees now occupied its halls, and the atmosphere was quickly becoming tense and claustrophobic.

“Something bad is going to happen,” McGonagall said eventually.  “I can feel it.  Hagrid told me that the acromantulas killed their leader and are moving closer to Hogwarts.  Even the centaurs are getting restless.”

“I feel it too,” Lupin returned.  “I could smell it in the air in Hogsmeade last night.  It smelled like…fear and anticipation.  I just hope nothing happens on the full moon.  I don’t want to be cooped up in the Shrieking Shack and unable to help.”

“If it does, we’ll be ready to respond quickly,” she said, trying to sound more confident than she was.  “And I’m sure we can get by without you for one night.”

“Let’s hope so,” he muttered, and stared into the distance, wondering what fate had planned for him in the coming days.

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A/N: Hope you enjoyed it.  Thanks to Voice of the Nephilim, BennyS, Heather Sinclair, scaryisntit, and Vikingfn0926 for their excellent ideas on the chapter outline.  Benny provided some great feedback on Harry’s wandless shield, and it was Heather’s idea for Parvati to help Harry learn meditation.  More on that coming soon.

Next chapter, Parvati provides Harry with some special entertainment, Draco bites off more than he can chew at Hogwarts, and both sides vie for control of Hogsmeade in a battle that involves all the major players.

What was that?  You say you want carnage?  Well, you’re in luck, because carnage is coming. :)

Thank you for your reviews!  Keep them coming, and I’ll do my best to respond to them.