London, Ministry of Magic, September 18th, 1999, 16.35 hours

Wand-Leader Hermione appeared in the Apparition Area for the Corps. She was safe. Alive. Before she could say anything, she felt herself float away from the area, deposited not so gently a few yards away.

"Clear the spot! Get the wounded to St. Mungo's!"

She was panting, coughing and covered with sweat. Her lungs hurt with each breath. Too much smoke, she realised. She blinked through eyes filled with tears - and not just due to the smoke she had flown in - and saw more Wands enter the area and disapparate.

"That's Hermione!" someone shouted, and once more she was lifted into the air.

"Hermione!"

"Dean?"

Her friend nodded, smiling widely. "You're alive! What happened? Jane alerted the Corps, and our first wave ran into an ambush!"

"What?" No, her team had been ambushed… she shook her head. Of course! "It was a trap… they were ready for us, the entire forest was a trap." She had to pause to cough. "Enchanted strangling vines, and Fiendfyre. The field was trapped as well. Anti-Apparition Jinxes everywhere."

"We heard that, yes. And our vanguard was just ambushed right where they appeared," Dean said.

"That's Hermione?" another voice cut in. Wand-Leader Benjamin. "What happened to the Minister's son?"

"We flew through the forest, away from the Fiendfyre…" She coughed. "He was the first to get away. Haven't seen him since then." Hadn't he appeared in the Ministry as well? What about Cleo? Jane?

"Hermione!"

Dean and Benjamin jumped to attention. Hermione followed their example, but had to bend over as coughs wracked her.

"What happened? Where is Draco?"

She repeated her report. The Minister turned to Benjamin. "I want that forest secured and those Fanatics killed or driven away! Save my son!"

"Yes, sir!" Benjamin saluted, and disapparated, presumably to inform Jane. The Wand-Commander would be at the front, directing the Corps. The Minister turned away, then stopped. "Get her to a Healer," he added, almost as an afterthought.

Dean helped steady her. "Can you walk?"

She nodded, coughing again.

"We'll take the Floo then." He started leading her towards the next Floo connection.

"What about Jane? Cleo?"

"I don't know."

She closed her eyes. "They knew we'd call for reinforcements. They didn't want to just ambush us, they also used us as bait."

Dean muttered a curse. In the background, she heard the Minister shout again. "The whole Corps is deploying?" She asked, between coughs.

"Yes. All but the skeleton crew. The Minister's son is in danger…"

"That's what they are counting on. They know we have to attack, no matter the cost, for Draco." She spat out the last word. "I saw Laura and Jasmine die. Teresa and Mabel disappeared scouting the forest. They must be dead as well. But Cleo and Jane…"

They had reached the Floo connection. Dean grabbed some powder and threw it into the fire. He dragged her with him while she was coughing too much to say the destination.

"St. Mungo's!"

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

London, St. Mungo's, September 18th, 1999, 22.35 hours

Hermione woke up in a room in St. Mungo's. She recognised the furniture at once. Dean was sitting on a chair next to her bed and Colin was dozing in a conjured armchair nearby.

Her lungs didn't hurt anymore. "Did you reach Antoine?" It felt great to be able to talk normally again.

Dean nodded. "I told him you were OK, but had to stay in St. Mungo's for a few hours. He wanted to come, but I told him it was a Corps operation."

"Thank you." She smiled. Ron wouldn't have had to worry over much. And Luna was on a trip to Sweden, looking for pygmy trolls. She wouldn't return until Monday. "Did you hear anything about the others?"

Dean drew a hissing breath, and she knew he had bad news. "Jane is dead. She never made it out of the forest, as far as I know. You already knew Jasmine and Laura were killed. They found Mabel and Teresa's remains - or so they think. Cleo's alive, but…"

"What?"

"She caught a nasty curse. She apparated directly to St. Mungo's, and they didn't recognise her."

Hermione winced. That sounded bad. But she was alive, at least.

"The worst is Draco, though." Dean's lips formed a thin line and she could almost see the anger boil up inside her friend.

"What happened to him?"

"He apparated to his home, but didn't think to inform the Corps right away. While we were charging a trapped, burning forest, he was already safe!" Dean ground his teeth. "If he had not wasted so much time changing his robes, we'd not have lost another half a dozen Wands in that pointless battle!"

Hermione closed her eyes. "Merlin!"

"Yes. I heard Sarah was blamed for the losses, even though the Minister ordered her to charge in and save his son, no matter the cost." He shook his head. "I can't confirm that though, just a rumour."

Hermione nodded. But for the Corps, even a rumour like this was a bad sign.

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

London, Diagon Alley, September 18th, 1999, 22.45 hours

Stepping out of the Floo connection, Minister for Magic Lucius Malfoy sighed at the sight of his wife. He had had better days. He had almost lost his only son and heir in an ambush by the Dark Lord. He had lost a dozen of his Wands, among them some of his best, in exchange for half that number of enemies. He had lost face in front of his Wands too, when he had lost his composure and ordered them to charge into an ambush to save his son.

"Good evening, husband," Narcissa greeted him with a clipped tone and a stone-faced expression. Only her eyes betrayed her fury.

And his wife was about to lose her temper. At least she was still controlling herself in front of their guards. Lucius couldn't afford to lose their confidence in him. That they didn't think much of Draco right now could be fixed, in time.

"Good evening, dear." He nodded at her, then at the two Wands guarding the Floo connection.

"I need to talk to you."

"Of course, dear."

He smiled, and followed Narcissa to the drawing room. His smile vanished, together with his wife's hold on her temper, as soon as the door was closed behind them.

"Draco almost died due to your stupid plotting! You put him against the Dark Lord, dared that monster to go after him, and he did!" Narcissa all but screamed at him.

He suddenly was very aware of just how much she resembled Bellatrix. For a moment he was tempted to cast a Shield Charm, even though his wife hadn't drawn her wand.

"You and your clever ploys and plots! Your loyal mudbloods failed to protect Draco! If he wasn't such an exceptional flyer, he'd have been killed! Burned to death like your useless animals! They couldn't even spot a simple trap!"

He ground his teeth. No one had spotted that trap, even though in hindsight, it had been obvious. He couldn't even blame the Wands, much - they didn't know about the Dark Lord.

"They died for our son," he said.

"As they should!" Narcissa spat.

That was entering very dangerous ground. Was his wife not just losing her temper, but her sanity? Like her sister? "They were under his command." In hindsight, he should have told Jane that she could overrule Draco for his own safety.

"And they failed him!" At least she wasn't banishing or wrecking the furniture. She stared at him. "And this disgusting ploy of yours ends! I will not have my son lay with mudbloods any longer!"

"As you wish," he nodded at her.

It wasn't a big concession. Hermione's loyalty was no longer a major concern, not after today's events. The entire Corps' loyalty towards Draco had suffered from his son's mistake, given that he had just barely escaped an ambush by the Dark Lord, and hadn't thought to return to the Ministry, but a mistake still.

"And he'll not take part in this war anymore. He'll stay safe until your mudbloods have killed the Dark Lord, or died trying!"

"That's not your decision, dear, but his, and his alone. Our son is a man now, and no longer a child to be ordered around." If Draco sat the war out, any chance of regaining the Wands' respect would be lost. He'd have to explain that to his son, if needed.

"His decision? You manipulated him! You made him think he should risk his life!" she hissed at him. "You encouraged him to fornicate with those sluts!"

"I did not," he lied.

"I'm not stupid!" She sneered at him.

He met her eyes. He wouldn't let her fear ruin his family. She trembled, then looked away.

"Curse you!" she said, sobbed. Then Narcissa started to cry.

He felt a pang of guilt. He knew he was right, but he didn't want to hurt her. Stepping closer, he put his hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry," he whispered. He was, but he'd not yield to her. Too much was at stake.

She didn't answer, but she didn't shrug his hand off, or pull away when he embraced her.

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

Beauxbatons, France, September 19th, 1999, 00.30 hours

Albus Dumbledore read the report from Severus again, frowning.

I informed the Dark Lord about Draco's task and suggested that the Dark Lord's forces ambush him. Sadly, he managed to survive, but the Ministry's forces were further weakened by the losses of some of their best Wands, even if a few of those with Draco escaped as well. I retain the Dark Lord's trust while Rabastan was punished for bungling the ambush.

He couldn't fault Severus. Draco's death would have hurt Lucius, maybe even driven a wedge between him and Narcissa, and the Dark Lord's trust in the spy would have greatly increased. Severus didn't know about Albus's other allies, especially not about Hermione.

No, if anyone was to blame, it was Albus himself, for not considering this when he had heard of Miss Hermione's new assignment. If he had told Severus not to take action against Draco the young witch wouldn't have been at risk.

It had worked out well though. The Wands' trust in the Malfoy family had been shaken, and Miss Hermione was alive and well. The deaths of the other Wands was tragic, but it would pit the others more firmly against Tom, and might even facilitate a peaceful solution once Lucius was killed.

He rubbed his beard. There was another opportunity thanks to Severus's action. Draco might have escaped, but he had lost the respect of the Wands. Severus should be able to convince the Dark Lord that this was a good time for Lucius to die.

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

London, St. Mungo's, September 19th, 1999, 09.30 hours

Wand-Leader Hermione and Wand Dean approached the room Cleo was recovering in at St. Mungo's. Wand-Leader Benjamin was standing outside, leaning against the door. He straightened when he saw them coming.

"Good morning Benjamin," Hermione said, nodding at her older colleague. Dean simply nodded his greeting.

"Hermione, Dean." Benjamin looked as if he hadn't slept at all. He looked her over. "I heard you were hurt as well."

Hermione shook her head. "Just some smoke poisoning."

"More than some," Dean added. "She was coughing so much, she had trouble talking." He ignored her glare.

Benjamin snorted. "You were lucky. Cleo caught a curse. A real bad one. Dozens of cuts, dark magic."

Hermione hissed. Every Wand knew what that meant. Scars at best. Wounds that never healed, at worst. If they lived.

"She almost died from blood loss, they poured Blood-Replenishing Potions in her while the Healers worked on her wounds. They didn't know how to close the wounds. No one knew the counter-curse, if any even existed. They finally managed to save her, but… it's not a pretty sight," Benjamin said while moving away from the door. "She's asleep, finally."

Hermione nodded, then entered the room. Cleo was in the single bed. An ugly knotted scar ran from the middle of her forehead down to her jaw, over where her left eye had been. Another was barely visible on her collarbone, disappearing under the blanket.

She knew this kind of scar.

Dean shook his head. "Merlin!"

"They must have used a scarring curse to treat her," Hermione said. "Dark magic." It was ingenious, in a way. Force the wounds closed with more dark magic. But while the curse saved Cleo's life, it would have left her with hideous scars.

She stepped closer, and looked at her friend. Her hair had been cut, but that could be regrown. Unless it was dark magic as well. She was pale, which made the scar stand out even more, and looked far more frail than Hermione remembered her.

"Get well soon," she said, placing a card on the side board next to Cleo's bed. "We'll get whoever did this to you."

"Yes," Dean said.

Benjamin was leaning against the wall when they left the room again. He looked at them, but didn't say anything.

"I still have to write my report," she said. "They didn't demote Sarah, did they?"

"What? Of course not!" Benjamin said. "What happened?"

"Cleo and I were the only ones who escaped. By sheer luck, if you can call it that," Hermione said, glancing back at the door. "Us two, and Draco."

Benjamin sneered. "I heard he ran, left you all to face the Fanatics."

"Not exactly. We had lost Mabel, Teresa and Laura before Jane gave the order to retreat. Jasmine died while we got on our brooms. Fiendfyre. Draco had the fastest broom, and outpaced us," Hermione explained.

"But you wouldn't have been in that forest if not for him." Benjamin scoffed. "He wanted his harem of witches, and wanted to play at being a leader. That's why you and Cleo were pulled from us."

"He wouldn't have been able to create his 'harem' if the Minister hadn't supported it," Hermione pointed out.

Dean nodded. "I heard it wasn't Draco's idea either."

Benjamin's face grew hard. "Are you certain?"

"We're not certain, but when has Draco ever been active in chasing criminals?" Hermione pointed out.

"He's been chasing witches," Dean added.

"And even if it wasn't his idea, the Minister certainly didn't stop him," Hermione said.

Benjamin nodded. "Sarah's getting the blame, but he ordered her to press the attack against a prepared enemy. Even though we'd have been too late to save Draco.

"Is it true he was safely at home while the battle was still going on?"

The older Wand-Leader nodded. "Yes. Didn't think to tell anyone."

"Didn't ask about his team either," Dean added.

Hermione thought she heard Benjamin mutter 'bloody idiot' under his breath, but she wasn't certain. She was certain though that he wouldn't keep his opinion to himself. He was too angry, he needed to talk to someone.

Rumours would spread. And hopefully, more Wands would question the Minister.

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

London, Diagon Alley, September 19th, 1999, 14.30 hours

"You're early," Ron Weasley said when Harry stepped out of the vanishing cabinet in his room in the Leaky Cauldron. Harry was supposed to search for the Dark Lord's current hideout with Dumbledore, but later in the day.

"Yes," his friend grinned. "I didn't want to leave you all alone and brooding, parted from your girlfriend for the day."

Ron sighed at his friend's antics. "Trouble with Ginny?"

Harry nodded. "Sort of. She wanted to come as well. 'Just to meet Ron's girlfriend', but…"

"... we can't take people to Britain just for that." Ron shook his head. "But you know that she'll be even unhappier with you for going ahead of schedule, and leaving her."

"Yes." Harry looked around. "Do you have a drink here?"

Ron narrowed his eyes. "Harry, are you trying to make her mad at you?"

"What?" Harry looked startled.

"You look like when you were dumping Jacqueline, and wanted her to dump you," Ron said, remembering that short-lived relationship. If Harry was pulling the same stupid stunt on his sister… they were not 15-year-old idiots anymore.

Harry sighed. "I'm not trying to make her mad. Not really."

"But…?"

"You know… what we are doing is dangerous." Harry sat down at the table.

"I know. That's why my sister isn't coming to Britain until the war's over." Ron was wondering what Harry was talking about.

"We're closing in on the Dark Lord and on Malfoy. Anyone of us could die during the next missions. Even with Dumbledore at our side."

Ah. Ron thought he understood now what was eating his friend. "Yes." He summoned two butterbeers from the chest in his room and handed one to Harry. "It is dangerous. Percy and Tonks almost died. You and I were lucky." He still had some nightmares about tentacles, from time to time.

"Yes, we were lucky. Luck runs out sometime."

"It just has to last a bit longer," Ron said, opening his bottle. Then he sighed. "Hermione was attacked by the Dark Lord's followers yesterday."

"I know."

"Her friend said she was fine, but she spent the night at the hospital in London." He hadn't seen her since then.

Harry nodded.

He would know about that, of course. Ron remembered how often his friend had claimed to be 'fine' after a Quidditch accident. "Yes. It was a close call, at the least. She was lucky."

Harry took a sip from his beer. "Don't you want to lock her up somewhere safe?"

Ron had felt that urge a number of times. "She'd kill me if I tried."

"What would you do if she died?"

Ron didn't really want to think about that, much less talk about it. "Do you want to know what I think Ginny will do should you die?"

"... yes."

Ron finished his bottle. "She'd go berserk and fly on her broom to Britain to take revenge if we don't let her join the mission."

"That's what I'm afraid of." Harry closed his eyes.

"Well, don't die then. Don't do anything stupidly brave, and you'll be fine. Dumbledore will handle the Dark Lord." Ron tried to sound as confident as he could.

His friend sighed though. "It's not that simple."

"What's eating you, Harry?" Ron was losing his patience with his friend. Before a mission, you were not supposed to talk like that. It was like Quidditch - if you went into a match thinking you'd lose, you'd likely lose.

"Dumbledore might not be able to handle the Dark Lord for me. Boy-Who-Lived and all, you know."

Ron stared at Harry's forehead, where the scar was hidden behind muggle makeup. "What do you mean?"

"We're kind of… connected. There is even a prophecy, that we'll fight each other." Harry looked past Ron, out of the window.

"Is that why you can sense his Horcruxes?"

"Yes. Dumbledore says I'm also protected by whatever my mother did before she died, but… he isn't certain it'll be enough."

"Dumbledore doesn't really put much faith in prophecies," Ron pointed out. The professor's arguments with Beauxbatons' Divination teacher were almost legendary.

"Let's just say there's a lot of facts backing this up." Harry stared at him. "I might have to die to kill him, Ron."

"Merde." Ron hadn't known about this. Harry had always had a devil may care attitude, taking risks on the pitch no one else did. And now this. "Since when have you known?"

"Few years."

"Those special lessons with the professor."

"Yes."

"He has a plan though, right? He's had years to prepare." Dumbledore had to have a plan.

"Yes, he has a plan to kill Voldemort permanently and save me. But he's not certain it'll work." Harry winced.

"Well, then we simply kill him non-permanently, and take another twenty years to work on a better plan!"

His friend shook his head. "I told him to go for Voldemort's final death."

"What?" Ron stood up. "Are you bloody crazy?"

"I'm not. But I might go crazy if he survives. We have a connection." Harry pointed at his forehead. "A piece of his soul is stuck in there. Whatever mom did has been keeping me safe, but… I'm starting to feel him. His emotions. Sometimes I catch glimpses of what he sees. Despite my Occlumency. And it's getting worse."

"Merde." Ron was horrified. To imagine that sort of connection to the Dark Lord… to share his thoughts… he shuddered.

Harry sighed. "I don't want to become a danger, or lose my mind. So… if the plan doesn't work out, please… "

"You have to tell her."

"I can't."

"You have to. If you don't, and you die, she'll always wonder if you didn't trust her. If you didn't think she was strong enough to handle it. Not good enough." Ron put his hand on Harry's shoulder. "Trust me, if you care for her, you have to tell her this."

"She'll kill me."

"No, she won't. She loves you, mec."

She'd probably make him wish that she had killed him, a bit. But Harry deserved it, a bit. To hide something like this, from Ginny, and from him… Ron tried to feel angry about it, but he couldn't. Not when he imagined what his best friend was going through, and what he was facing.

Harry sighed, and stood up. "I guess I better get it over with, then."

Ron nodded. "That's the spirit." He grinned. "If she kills you, do I get your broom?"

Harry stared at him, then chuckled. "You wish," he said, before stepping into the cabinet.

Ron kept his grin up until the cabinet was closed.

Merde.