Chapter 3, Taking the Initiative

“It’s about you.”

After a moment of stunned silence at Tonks’s revelation, Harry immediately waved Hermione over to join the conversation. But after a few moments thought while Tonks filled her in, he was no longer surprised. “It’s about me and Voldemort, isn’t it?” Tonks winced at his use of the feared name, but nodded.

“How did you figure that out so fast?” she wondered. Harry merely shrugged. It seemed that everything in his life always came down to that; why should this be any different?

“More importantly, how did you find this out?” Sirius wanted to know.

“I’ve been beginning to have a strange feeling about all this,” the pink-haired Auror confided. Part of it’s the way Dumbledore responded to you taking a runner like that. It’s like he doesn’t mind that you’re out of the way. We all thought he’d be insisting that we go and fetch you back. But instead he seems to want to keep his distance from you. Have the two of you had a falling out?”

“Not that I know of,” Harry replied in bewilderment.

“Anyway, the other thing was when Sturgis Podmore disappeared for a few days when it was supposed to be his turn on guard duty,” Tonks continued. “I got to thinking about what exactly we were supposed to do if someone turned up. I mean, Kingsley and I can defend ourselves, but what about someone like Sturgis or Molly Weasley? If some Death Eaters actually showed up they’d be in big trouble. So I thought, if one of us could get killed over this prophecy, I wanted to find out more about it.” She paused and looked around nervously, seeking approval. Harry, Hermione, and Sirius all promptly nodded that her reasoning made sense.

“So, yesterday I slipped into the Hall of Prophecies itself to look around a bit,” she revealed.

“I thought only Unspeakables could get in there,” Sirius pointed out.

Tonks grinned at her cousin. “Well, I wasn’t exactly myself at the time, was I?” And to Harry and Hermione’s astonishment she began to change right before their eyes. A moment later they were looking at a sallow skinned wizard with a mournful face.

“You’re a metamorphmagus!” Hermione cried excitedly. “I’ve read about them. But they’re supposed to be really rare.”

“Yep, not many of us around,” Tonks replied cheerily. “Broderick Bode, at your service.” She paused a moment and her heart shaped face and spiky pink hair returned. “Now, as I was saying. I snooped around a bit and found the prophecy. It’s labeled, ‘S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D. Dark Lord and (?) Harry Potter’.”

Harry frowned. “What do the letters mean?”

“Those are the initials of the Seer who gave the prophecy and the recipient,” Tonks explained. “They’re followed by the Unspeakables’ analysis of who the prophecy refers to.”

Hermione had been mouthing the letters over and over, trying to work out who they referred to. “Oh no, it couldn’t be!” she groaned. The other three turned to her. “S. P. T. – Sybill P. Trelawny. But I don’t believe it. She’s a total fraud!” She looked at Harry. “Granted, she was right about Pettigrew …” Suddenly Hermione fell silent and went pale. “Harry! Remember what you said? Dumbledore told you that was her second correct prophecy! What if …?”

Sirius broke in. “That would make sense, given the second set of initials.” Now everyone turned their attention to him. “There aren’t many wizards I know of that have three middle names.” Blank looks on the faces of his listeners indicated that none of the others had caught on yet. Then Tonks began to chuckle.

“Wotcher, Harry,” she grinned, poking him in the arm. “Haven’t you ever seen Dumbledore’s Chocolate Frog card?”

Harry shook his head slowly, trying to remember what the card said, while Hermione closed her eyes and wrinkled up her forehead in concentration, mentally leafing through Hogwarts, A History .

“Albus Percival Wulfric … something … Dumbledore,” she announced a moment later.

“Brian,” Harry filled in. “I remember thinking it was weird that he had one normal name.”

Sirius brought them back on track. “That means Dumbledore knows the prophecy, whatever it says. And is determined to keep it from Voldemort.” He frowned and turned to Harry. “And he’s never said anything to you about it?”

“No,” Harry replied with some irritation. “Now that I know it exists, things make more sense. He’s told me several times when I asked him why Voldemort was so interested in me that it was something he couldn’t tell me about until I was older.”

“I still don’t like the smell of this,” Sirius declared. “He knows something important about you and Voldemort and he’s keeping you in the dark about it. Not only that, but he appears to be distancing himself from you.” The other three murmured their agreement with his analysis. “It almost looks like he’s setting you up.”

“He’s been setting me up every year,” Harry responded heavily, in a low voice tinged with resignation. Hermione gasped, but the horrified look she gave him indicated that she had come to the same conclusion. The two of them took a few minutes to explain to Tonks what had happened to Harry in each of his first four years at Hogwarts. Too many things had occurred at just the right time and place for it all to have been a coincidence.

“I think,” Sirius decided after they’d finished. “That we need to get our hands on that prophecy.”

 

Harry and Hermione’s time in France wasn’t all plotting and strategizing. She wanted to take the opportunity to explore the country with him, not knowing when they’d get a chance like this again. Through the use of the Delacours’ floo connection, they’d visited the magical sections of Paris, Lyon, and Marseille, accompanied everywhere by a large friendly black dog. Madame Delacour and Gabrielle even escorted them to Beauxbatons for a day.

It was necessary to disguise their identities, of course, but they learned that Veela are masters of glamour charms. Madame Delacour turned Harry’s hair a sandy blonde color and even managed to make it lie flat. She also gave him bangs to cover his scar. Hermione, who’d always envied girls with straight hair, received long flowing golden blond locks reminiscent of Lavender Brown’s. Harry scored major boyfriend points when he observed that it looked pretty, but that he preferred her normal hair.

With her parents flying in for the weekends, they used this time to do sightseeing in the muggle portions of the country. They spent the first weekend in Paris, and planned to return there if time permitted at the end of the month. The second weekend was spent driving up the valley from Lyon to Dijon and the Bourgogne region, where Hermione and her parents had visited the summer before third year, touring cathedrals and other historic sites. This weekend, the day after the stressful meeting with Minister Bones, they determined that a relaxing day at the beach was in order, and headed south to the French Riviera.

Everything went fine until Mr. Granger saw Hermione’s swimsuit when she removed her coverup at the beach. As far as he could tell, her bikini consisted of a few small triangles of light blue fabric held together with bits of string. This was not the little girl he remembered from their last visit to France two years ago!

That thirteen-year-old girl had just graduated from one-piece suits to a conservative two-piece. This young lady, now nearly sixteen, was something else entirely. But before he could make a scene, he was headed off by his wife, who whispered in his ear, “Count your blessings – it could be worse!” and gestured to the other women on the beach. Glancing around, he could see her point, as some of them were wearing an entirely different kind of one-piece suit – bikini bottoms without a top. Grudgingly, he sat down on a beach chair and picked up a book, but he made certain that the two teenagers never left his sight the entire day.

Harry, who’d been finishing setting up the umbrellas, didn’t even notice Hermione’s father’s reaction. When he turned and got his first look at her his mouth suddenly went dry. He couldn’t take his eyes off her even if he’d wanted to. While he’d been eagerly looking forward to seeing her in a bikini ever since they’d first discussed the idea of spending the day at the beach, this suit exceeded all his expectations!

For her part, Hermione just smiled, very pleased with herself. She even managed to keep her blush to a minimum. She stretched out on the beach blanket, picked up a book, and propped herself up on her elbows. Patting the space next to her, she beckoned him to join her. Harry didn’t need to be asked twice. He whipped off his shirt and practically dove onto the blanket beside her.

It was a truly memorable day, just what they needed to take their minds off things. Fleur had taught them a sunscreen charm before she left to return to England, so they didn’t have to worry about sun exposure. And although Harry did notice the topless girls, Hermione was quite pleased that other than a bright red blush and a few glances he didn’t dwell on them, nor even hint that she should follow their lead. The young couple alternated taking brief dips in the cold water, short naps, pleasant hand-in-hand strolls along the beach, and long stretches of time lying on the blanket simply being with each other. Harry was content just watching her read her book, wondering how he managed to get this lucky.

For a brief moment, life was perfect.

-ooOoo-

Wednesday, August 25, Azkaban Island

“So, that’s the last of them, then?” the DMLE official asked the captain of the guards at the wizarding prison.

“Yes, and good riddance,” the captain responded with a shudder as the black hooded nightmares drifted onto the boat. “Those things always gave me the creeps.” The official nodded in agreement. There hadn’t exactly been a lot of volunteers for this assignment at DMLE headquarters.

“Where are you taking them?” the captain wondered.

“That’s classified information,” came the reply. The other wizard nodded his understanding.

“Are we getting any replacements?” This was an obvious follow-up question.

“The Minister contracted for a troop of security goblins from Gringotts,” the official revealed. “They’ll be coming in a few hours.” The captain scowled. He didn’t particularly care for goblins either, but he supposed they were better than dementors.

“We’ll put them right to work.”

 

Thursday, August 26, Ministry of Magic

Delores Umbridge nervously smoothed out her robes as she waited to be called in to the office of the Minister of Magic. As the Senior Undersecretary to Minister Fudge she’d been in a state of limbo since the change in administrations, while Minister Bones settled into office. She’d not had much of a relationship with the new Minister while she’d been head of the DMLE, but she hoped to rectify that. She’d worked hard, stepping on quite a few toes and doing a fair amount of back-stabbing to get to her position as Fudge’s second in command, and had no intention of giving it up.

“The Minister will see you now,” the secretary announced with barely hidden distaste.

Inside the office, Umbridge plastered a sweet smile on her face and in a high-pitched voice simpered, “Hello Minister, I’m so happy that we can finally have this opportunity for a little chat.”

But Amelia Bones wasted no time with pleasantries, coming right to the point. “Madame Umbridge, you are under arrest.” The toad-like woman’s eyes bulged out, but before she could choke out a reply, Bones continued. “For attempted murder and unlawful diversion of a restricted Ministry resource.”

“What!” Umbridge shrieked. “You surely don’t believe those lies in the Prophet !”

“I have all the evidence I need, including testimony from the captain of the guard at Azkaban and two others,” Bones snapped. “I cannot believe you thought you could get away with this!”

“Potter had it coming!” Umbridge screamed as she felt her arms being pulled behind her back in a set of magical restraints. “Somebody had to act. He was directly challenging the authority of the Minister! Everyone was bleating about silencing him, wringing their hands, but no one had the nerve to do anything about it. If he hadn’t gotten lucky somehow …”

Her words were cut off with a silencing spell and Bones waved her away. As soon as the Aurors had removed the unctuous woman from her sight she sat down and permitted herself a small smile of satisfaction. Now, on to the next task.

 

Friday, August 27, Ministry of Magic

At 8:00 AM sharp, Archibald Avery entered his office to find Gawain Robards waiting for him. Robards looked up and gave him a nod of greeting.

“Bones wants to see you in her office,” he informed the mid-level bureaucrat. “Some sort of ‘get acquainted with the troops thing’.” Avery nodded and followed the Auror captain to the lift, not stopping to wonder why such a high ranking official was playing errand boy. Once inside the lift he turned to face the doors and everything went dark.

Quickly pocketing his wand after casting the nonverbal stunning spell, Robards pulled a flattened old tin can from his pocket, attached it to his prisoner with a sticking charm and activated it. Stopping the elevator at level two, he got off and hurried to Auror Headquarters to report in and receive his next assignment.

 

8:01, Ministry of Magic

As ClaytonYaxley approached his office on level six he encountered Rufus Scrimgeour standing in the hallway. An uneasy feeling struck him and he tensed slightly as the Head Auror turned in his direction. When he was told Minister Bones wanted to see him he didn’t even wait to hear the reason, drawing his wand and firing off a curse. But Scrimgeour was ready and blocked it, and the two men circled warily, Yaxley calculating his best chance of getting out of the building and warning his master. He never had time to come up with any sort of plan, though, because the next spell came from behind him, as Scrimgeour’s backup moved up silently from around the corner. A few seconds later the portkey had been attached and activated, and the hallway was clear. The entire encounter had taken less than twenty seconds.

 

8:02, Malfoy Manor

Kinsgley Shacklebolt and NymphadoraTonks waited with an affected air of nonchalance for someone to answer the door at the Malfoy residence. Shacklebolt had claimed this assignment for himself, as it was considered to be one of the most critical, and Tonks had persuaded him to select her as his partner. Finally the door opened to reveal an extremely irritated Lucius Malfoy in a dressing gown.

“What is the meaning of this, calling at such an inappropriate hour?” he demanded.

“I apologize for the timing, but I have a few urgent questions for you dealing with Sirius Black. Since your wife is related to him …” Shacklebolt was cut off before he could finish his cover story.

“Make an appointment!” snarled Malfoy. The two Aurors had subtly moved apart so that it was difficult for Malfoy to keep a close watch on both of them. Shacklebolt raised his open hands in a placating gesture and began an apology, but Malfoy noticed that Tonks still had her hand on her wand.

Preoccupied with this threat, he didn’t see the silent stunning spell that emerged from the wand of the disillusioned French Auror stationed several steps behind his British partners until it was too late. A second later Tonks had added a petrifying jinx of her own, while Shacklebolt slapped a portkey on him and activated it.

As soon as the Malfoy patriarch disappeared, Shacklebolt and Tonks stepped into the entry hall, still on alert. Mad Eye Moody had been reactivated for this operation, and had visited each of the target sites during the previous night. Apparating from one to the next under his invisibility cloak, he’d scanned them all with his magical eye to determine the threat at each location. His report that only the Malfoy family was currently present at the manor had come as a great comfort to the assault team.

A minute later Narcissa Malfoy burst into the entry hall, followed closely by her son, only to be brought up short by the sight of two wands in their faces.

“Good morning, Aunt Narcissa, Cousin Draco,” Tonks announced with an obviously fake smile. “We’re going to need to borrow Uncle Lucius for a while. Oh, and by the way, please roll up your left sleeves.” Her face hardened and the matching grim expression of her partner let the two Malfoys know they meant business.

“How dare you!” Narcissa sputtered. But with a casual wave of Tonks’s wand the sleeve of her dressing gown ripped away at the elbow, revealing pale skin without a blemish in sight.

“Oh my, how clumsy of me,” Tonks declared airily. “I’m so sorry. I just don’t know where I get it from – do you know, was my mother this uncoordinated when she was younger?” While the pink-haired Auror was going on like this, Shacklebolt strode up to a shocked Draco and forcibly pulled up his sleeve. Nodding in satisfaction at the absence of a Dark Mark on the boy’s arm as well, he stepped back.

Ignoring Narcissa’s sputtering indignation, Tonks and Shacklebolt now cast a pair of spells each, silencing and petrifying their reluctant hosts. As they turned to rejoin their still disillusioned French colleague outside, Tonks had one more snarky comment.

“It’s such a pity that you’re not feeling up to receiving visitors this morning. I suppose we should come back again some time when you aren’t so indisposed. But I’m certain that you’ll be back on your feet by the end of the day. Bye now.”

As soon as they were away from the mansion, Shacklebolt summoned his patronus. To the ghostly white form of a lynx, he spoke a brief message before sending it off to the Ministry. Primary target secured, proceeding to secondary target .

 

8:10, Ministry of Magic

When Scrimgeour entered her office and nodded, Amelia Bones permitted herself a brief sigh of relief. All of the Death Eaters in the employ of the Ministry were now accounted for except for Macnair, who was still out of the country. According to the log sheet, he was somewhere in Eastern Europe. Her first action upon arriving at her office at 7:00 that morning had been to request assistance from the other European Ministries in tracking him down. The communication had been brief. Detain for questioning. Approach with extreme caution.

When Shacklebolt’s lynx delivered its message confirming the capture of LuciusMalfoy two minutes later, Bones even managed a quick smile. So far, so good!

 

8:15, Goyle residence

Tonks and Shack knocked briskly on the door of the shabby looking house a mile or so from the nearest town. They were answered by a tired looking, heavyset woman who reported with some annoyance that her husband was still in bed.

“I’m sorry to bother you, ma’am, but we need to speak with him concerning one of our investigations,” Shacklebolt announced. Without waiting for a response he pushed past her and moved quickly to the bedroom. Keeping to the plan, Tonks lagged behind to keep an eye on the woman and her children, who had now wandered into the front room, curious to know what was happening.

At the back of the house Shacklebolt burst into the bedroom without knocking, and Greg Goyle, Sr. was stunned before he could fully awaken. Another portkey, and another Death Eater was in custody.

“Waddya think yer doin?!” Shacklebolt spun to see a large teenaged youth in the doorway. Before he could incant a spell, the younger Goyle charged in and tackled him to the bed. But a bright red streak of light from Tonks’s wand had the Slytherin teen unconscious before he could even land a blow. Shacklebolt rolled out from under him and came up, wand in hand, alert for any other interference while Tonks petrified his assailant and checked his arm.

Back in the front room, they found the mother and her other children huddled together in fright under the wand of their French partner. Reluctantly, they stunned the whole lot of them. This operation was just too sensitive to risk any word getting out before they wrapped it up. Even so, this was far better treatment than their opponents gave to any innocent bystanders they encountered on one of their raids.

After sending another messenger patronus, the three Aurorsapparated to their next destination. Their final assignment was to serve as backup for the major raid of the day.

 

8:20, Knockturn Alley

Tonks, Kingsley, and the unseen French Auror arrived in Knockturn Alley to the sound of heavy spellfire. A mixed team of Aurors was storming a rundown rooming house. Following their orders, the newcomers moved to secure the area to head off any intervention by the numerous lowlifes who frequented the disreputable district.

Five minutes later the other Aurors emerged with three prisoners, all clearly bearing a Dark Mark. It was later revealed that two other Death Eaters had been killed inside. Five Aurors had been injured, only one critically, and no deaths had been inflicted on the light side. Discovering that the Auror in command had been porkeyed to St. Mungo’s, Shacklebolt, as the next most senior Auror present, smoothly assumed charge of the scene. The three prisoners were identified and portkeyed away to join their comrades, and after one final sweep of the area, Shacklebolt congratulated the remaining Aurors and ordered them back to the Ministry.

By 8:30 AM Operation First Strike had concluded. In a half hour’s time the balance of power between light and dark in wizarding Britain had shifted dramatically

 

Back on the second level of the Ministry of Magic, cheers filled the Auror ready room when the final teams returned from their assignments. French and British Aurors alike slapped each other on the back in congratulations and words of appreciation were exchanged. Celebratory butterbeers were passed around (anything harder was strictly forbidden while on duty) as the rank and file warriors eagerly awaited news from their superiors on the final tally for the morning’s activities.

Upstairs in the Minister’s office a command center had been set up, with updates magically appearing on a large display screen as each report came in. Only here, where they had access to the big picture, did the full scope of the situation appear. While no one wanted to celebrate prematurely, the excitement mounted with each passing minute.

At 9:00 a floo call announced that Swedish Aurors had captured Thorfin Rowle.

Finally, the anxiously awaited report came in from Russia.

 

Walden Macnair had successfully completed the first half of his mission, and was now nearing his second objective. He had located the hiding place of the traitor Karkaroff and administered the ultimate penalty for disloyalty to the dark lord. The body would likely not be discovered for months, if not years. Negotiating with the giants would be a different challenge, though.

He flashed his British Ministry of Magic diplomatic credentials to the Russian border inspector and assumed an imperious, bored attitude useful for dealing with low level government employees. He frowned when the inspector did not immediately wave him on his way, but rather paused to scrutinize the document. He eased his wand into readiness.

“Excuse me, sir, could you step over here please?” the inspector inquired, motioning him toward a closed door. Macnair wasn’t having any of it.

“Avada Kedrava!” Without waiting to see the young inspector fall, Macnair spun around intending to flee, only to be cut down in a hail of curses. The hired killer had performed his last execution.

 

10:00, Ministry of Magic

When the results went up on the big screen – Macnair: killed resisting arrest – shouts of triumph erupted from the Minister’s crisis team. The excitement did not abate when the details came through. The young inspector had dropped to the ground as soon as Macnair’s wand came up, and the killing curse had flashed harmlessly over his head. Minister Bones assured her Russian counterpart that she bore no ill will over the fate of her employee, and apologized in turn that his people had been placed in harm’s way. She accepted with delight his assurances that his Aurors would keep a close eye on the giant camp in the Ural Mountains.

The new Minister of Magic broke out in a genuine smile for the first time since she had taken office, as she closed the floo connection and stood to address her subordinates – her most trusted department heads, and especially her closest advisors. These were ones who’d labored long hours for the past week to perfect this audacious plan, the bold preemptive strike from which they were now about to reap the rewards – and no small amount of criticism. Scrimgeour, Robards, Moody, Shacklebolt. And Delacour, her liaison with the French Ministry.

The final totals now glowed in fiery characters on the screen above them.

Of the 34 Known Death Eaters (not counting the 10 already incarcerated at Azkaban):
25 captured
5 killed
2 – Pettigrew and Gibbon – still at large, whereabouts unknown
1 – Snape – at Hogwarts, vouched for by Dumbledore
1 – Karkaroff – unaccounted for but not considered a threat

Stripped of all but two of his supporters, Voldemort was still a formidable foe, but for the first time since his rise to power, now no longer seemed invincible.

Bones spoke a few brief words of congratulations, appreciation, and praise. But her concluding lines set the tone for the coming months.

“Today was a great victory for our side, but the war isn’t over yet. Our work has just begun, starting with tomorrow’s public announcement, where we’ll face another battle of critical importance in its own right – to convince the British wizarding public that our actions today were justified. And that might be as difficult a task as the one we just finished. So let’s get to work!”

 

12:00, A Secure Location in France

Lucius Malfoy slowly regained his senses to find himself in a dark room, by all appearances a dungeon, deep underground. As his realization of the situation became clear, his rage and indignation grew white hot.

“What is the meaning of this outrage!” he screamed, once he’d located the door to his cell. “I demand to be released at once! I swear to you, someone will pay for this!”

After a frustrating silence, a distant voice answered. “Shut your mouzz, Eenglish swine!”

Temporarily taken aback at this response, Malfoy paused a moment before responding. “Who are you?”

“Zatees none of your concern, Eenglishman.”

“You can’t talk to me that way!” Malfoy shouted back in frustration. “Do you know who I am?”

From between the bars a flash of light threw him back against the opposite wall. Fighting to retain consciousness, he barely heard the answer to his last question.

“You are nuzzing more zan a fool ’oo ’as found ’ees way eento my care. Bonnes vacances.”

In twenty-four similar cells, far below the surface of Paris, twenty-four other prisoners shook their heads in similar confusion, unaware that the Bastille was more than just a famous French historical landmark.

And to their horror, a blackened skull and snake permanently etched into each of their left arms soon began to burn. They were being summoned. But none of them were in any position to respond.

 

A few minutes later and 250 miles to the south and east, Harry Potter clamped his hand to his forehead and doubled over in pain, as his scar exploded in agony. The next thing he knew he was lying on the sofa, his head on Hermione’s lap, while Gabrielle and Madame Delacour looked on anxiously. Seeing the blood trickling from his scar, the French witch quickly conjured a damp cloth and passed it to Hermione. Whether it was the refreshing coolness and gentle touch of Hermione’s ministrations, or the loving concern they represented, Harry’s pain soon began to ebb. His eyes sought out hers, and his fervent gaze conveyed his gratitude even before he spoke.

“Thanks,” he whispered. “I think he’s really furious this time.”

“I was hoping he wouldn’t be able to affect you this far away,” Hermione commented discouragedly.

“I think this is a special case,” Harry guessed. “I doubt if he’s ever felt this kind of rage. He just nearly Crucioed Pettigrew and some other Death Eater into insanity. Madame Bones’s plan must have been pretty successful.”

“I’m sure we’ll hear all about it tomorrow, if not sooner,” Hermione concluded soothingly. “It’s probably best if you take it easy the rest of the day. We have a lot planned for tomorrow.”

“Maybe we could conjure rafts and float in that pond Gabrielle showed us the other day,” Harry suggested with a hopeful grin. Hermione smiled down at him and ruffled his hair playfully. She knew very well that he’d been eager to see her in that bikini again ever since their outing to the beach on Sunday. And truth be told, she enjoyed his reaction to seeing her in it.

“I suppose we can,” she sighed, feigning reluctance, but betraying it with a grin. “But I think this time you’ll have to rub sunscreen onto my back. By hand.”

-xox-XOX-XOX-xox-