Things were considerably less cheerful and calm in the Floo Network Authority’s offices.
Janice Bell looked around the room again for some kind of way out, but nothing seemed possible. She swore internally, going back over the night’s events.
The rest of the FNA workers and her had been called in abruptly around ten. No one had liked this, but you did what they said, these days; people who didn’t do what they said tended to disappear. The new head of the division, a Mr. Bullworth, had demanded that Hogwarts and Hogsmeade be completely sealed off from the rest of the fires, at once. He didn’t say why. When someone asked, he glared at her violently and said nothing. No one else asked. They did what they were told, but were not allowed to leave when that was finished a few minutes later; they were all told to stay there and await new orders. Williams had made tea for everyone, and they all sat about drinking it and complaining (obliquely and in whispers) about all this bother. Hours had passed. Mr. Bullworth went in and out now and then, but never had any new orders for them when he came back from wherever he had gone. Gradually, most of the staff fell asleep on their desks or on the floor.
Janice hadn’t. Most of the rest of them, as it worked out, didn’t have any children at Hogwarts. She did, and was worried about Katie. Of course, this could be anything, she’d thought, but she’d had a (now thoroughly justified) bad feeling about it all. She’d been starting to doze off anyway around two, with Bully out of the room again, when she’d started to hear odd noises from the direction of the Atrium. Shortly followed by a massive boom that shook the entire office, sent things crashing off desks, and scared the hell out of everyone.
A few minutes later, Bully had run into the room with two robed and masked Death Eaters, wands trained on the workers! They’d taken all their wands and lined them up against the wall. Janice’s initial confusion had given way to hot rage. That festered boil of pus, that hippogriff crap, had told them the new security measures were to fight the Death Eaters! Then Kingsley had given his little speech, but Bully had told them they weren’t going anywhere and were hostages.
She kept looking, seeing nothing, until*mdash;what was that?
A piece of paper a few feet away was flapping weakly. As she watched it, she saw the text of a Ministry memo sent to Mary. She thanked Merlin Mary was a slob, then realized there was no way to get to the thing or rewrite it. Unless…
It would never have occurred to most witches to try what she did next. Hogwarts taught its students in their first year that wandless magic was hard, clunky, slow, and occasionally dangerously unpredictable. Most of them didn’t question that: the Ravenclaws mostly were still soaking up knowledge instead of really analyzing it at that age, the few Slytherins interested in trying to exploit it quickly became frustrated with the learning curve or ridiculed for acting like house-elves, and all the others were having enough trouble with the magic they were supposed to learn to be trying other things. Few, if any, ever –turned the cornerâ€, sticking with trying it long enough to make it really work. Of course, goblins and house-elves, who had no choice, did make it work. But even for them, it was clunky, crude, (usually) harmless, and rarely able to beat wands.
Janice Bell, however, had not always worked in the FNA. She had started in Experimental Charms, at a desk next to a poster bearing these words: –If it’s stupid but it works, it isn’t stupid.†Then Voldemort had started his first reign of terror, her group was shut down for lack of funds, she was transferred to Floo for some stupid reason, and they were never put back together after Godric’s Hollow for some equally stupid reason. (She’d gotten good at reciting this to those who asked, without thinking about it enough to get angry.)
She focused on that memo. Fixing the words…no time for elegant, ink, move, this damn black rubbish has to move, just pool together—and suddenly it all flowed across the paper like a stain spreading, first forward, then in reverse. She took a deep breath, suddenly acutely aware of everything. Williams, at the other end of the line, shifted position against the wall, two masks across the room, damn she wished she knew where they were looking, no help for it, letters, letters, make letters…
It took only a few minutes, but it felt like hours. The strain was bad, but she had to keep going—
*****************************************************************************
A few minutes later, a piece of paper came struggling up the lift shaft. –Ministry memo†and –fluttering†would not have been accurate, because it looked like it had been used as a dragon’s nesting material, and –fluttering†implies a degree of gracefulness which this thing definitely lacked. The…thing…flopped out of the lift and onto the floor, and began lurching weakly toward Kingsley. He frowned, suspecting a trap, but a few spells revealed no evidence of that.
–Accio…Paper,†he muttered finally. It flew into his hand, flexing and flapping wildly.
It took him and the major, working as quickly as they could, a good minute to make sense of it; it looked like someone had poured thick ink onto the paper, then attempted to form a message by smearing said ink about with an old paintbrush. It was addressed to Kingsley in a similar fashion, although that was a little neater, probably because the spell couldn’t have made sense of it otherwise.
–DETH EATRS HLDNG US IN FNA. WILL SURR IF HELP,†seemed to be it, although some of the letters were smeared illegibly.
–F. N. A.?†the major asked.
–Floo Network Authority, on level six,†Kingsley answered. –This is rather…difficult. The hostages won’t have any wands, so if you set off explosions in there, they could be hit by flying debris.â€
–Do you have a map of the area?†Foxcastle queried, beckoning several other officers over.
–No, and I cannot describe it either. I have never been there. I can attempt to negotiate with them,†Kingsley suggested, as the officers looked concerned about that. He didn’t add that there were—or had been—two negotiation specialists in the Aurors, but he wasn’t one of them. It made no difference: they were not here, and he was.
–Well, we don’t have much to lose by attempting it,†the major answered after a moment. –My senior officers and I will try to devise an assault plan, but we are likely to take casualties if we attempt this.â€
Kingsley nodded grimly, then walked back to the lifts and amplified his voice. –Attention, Death Eaters in the Floo Network Authority offices,†he said. –If you release your hostages and surrender immediately, you will not be hurt, and we may be willing to reduce your sentences. If any hostages are killed, you will all be charged with willful murder, a crime punishable by life imprisonment in Azkaban.†He paused, trying to decide how to phrase his next statement, then settled on a wording. –We are prepared to consider reasonable requests, but cannot promise that we will accede to them. You may convey your response via a Ministry memo to Auror Shacklebolt. I know how to detect booby-trapped memos, so you may as well not try that. Shacklebolt out.â€
On level six, –Bullyâ€, much to Bell’s amusement, was having a fit.
–How did he know we were here?†he wailed at one of the Death Eaters. –That piece of dragon dung! I hate him! I hate them. Those half-breeds ruin everything!â€
–What d’yeh want us ter do, boss?†one of the Death Eaters asked. –Can we curse ‘em?â€
–Be silent,†the other one told him in much higher-class English. He added something no one else quite caught about thugs and blood purity commitment.
–What am I going to do?†Bullworth demanded. –What am I going to do?†His voice became increasingly shrill and whiny. –If the Dark Lord comes back and I gave up, he’ll kill us! But if we don’t give up, those Muggles’ll kill us! It’s not fair!â€
–Boss?â€
Bullworth turned around, ran through his office door, slammed it, and locked it. He could be heard shouting and wailing within. The Death Eaters looked at each other.
–Very well,†said the better-educated one. He pulled the other one close to him, and began speaking in a low voice, keeping his wand pointed at the FNA workers. Janice’s breath came fast and hard—what were they going to do?
–Right!†the first one declared loudly. –Good plan! That’s what we’ll tell ‘em!†Then he stopped. –But wha’ about our Dark Marks?â€
–Merlin blast it!†the other one shouted. –Right! New plan! Er…erm…damn.â€
–I want ter curse someone,†the first Death Eater said. –I been in the Death Eaters three months and ain’t cursed one person.â€
–You’re an idiotic sociopath,†the less idiotic one told him. –Let me—"
–Yer a weenie bugger!â€
–You do not even know what blood purity is!â€
–If yer so great, how come yer here an’ not at Hogwarts?â€
–Be silent!†the less idiotic one said, and pointed his wand at the other, who swung his wand around, and both yelled incantations at the same time.
*************************************************************************
Several minutes later, Janice was zip-tied in the Atrium and answering questions. These things were a bit tight, but she was much more interested in the Muggles. These shining metal wands, this sleek black material they wore, the little boxes that crackled and spoke…it was like a different sort of magic.
–Well, that was a stroke of luck,†Kingsley said. Given the state the two Death Eaters were in, the obvious retort was Except for the guy who has to guard the prisoners, but neither man had that kind of a sense of humor—or much of a sense of humor at all, when you got down to it. Kingsley examined the trail of purple slime one of them had left across the Atrium floor. Both had been hit by a fair number of nasty but ultimately superficial hexes, and were unconscious. None of the other prisoners admitted to knowing anything about why they’d been hit by so many.
–Bullworth,†Janice said with contempt, –seems to have locked his cowardly arse in his office. He’s still down there, as far as I know. No one wanted to try to get him out, they’ve had some nasty anti-intruder curses on the doors since the breach in September.â€
–Very well, thank you, put her with the rest of the prisoners,†Major Foxcastle ordered.
–What? Why?†Janice demanded, as an SAS man seized her shoulder and pushed her toward the far corner. –Merlin, I’m on your side!â€
–Major,†Kingsley began, –I have heard of this woman, and I see no reason to doubt her—"
–My orders are to detain all wizards and witches in this facility.â€
Kingsley opened his mouth, then closed it again. As this situation stood, it was doing no significant harm. Escalating it possibly would. He nodded curtly, first to the Muggle commander, then to Bell.
–I will send an officer to try to persuade this Bullworth to surrender,†Major Foxcastle explained. –If that fails, you should attempt to remove the…curses. Do you expect there to be any additional hostiles in this…facility?â€
–Possibly a few,†Kingsley told him. –But this is already more than what we usually had at night, aside from emergency responders. And the ‘Aurors’ are all either real Aurors, who are mostly…†His voice caught for an instant; he knew some of them. –…deserted or…dead. Or, Death Eaters, who are probably at Hogwarts.†He firmly got his composure back. –There was one night team in Magical Creatures when I was here last, but that may have changed. I do not expect they would be Death Eaters, so the lack of a message probably means there is no one there.â€
–Very well.†The major turned sharply and began addressing his officers. –Captain Macfie, I want a sweep of the second level. As, ah, Mr. Shacklebolt has detected no one on that level, you may use the lift if it functions. Lieutenant Mackinnon, take your men and secure the Department of Mysteries level outside the Department of Mysteries itself; do not enter that area unless absolutely necessary, which means you had better be buggered six ways to Sunday and have no other choice. Captain Thompson—where is Captain Thompson? Ah, yes—Sergeant! Instruct Captain Thompson to proceed to the Floo Network Authority with an escort and attempt to persuade a man locked in the manager’s office there to surrender himself; he should not attempt to enter the office under any circumstances.â€
A chorus of –Yes, sirs,†rang out. Men sprang into action throughout the Atrium: helmets were donned, weapon safeties disengaged, and formations formed. Wood, under Macfie’s command, moved quickly into position by the lifts. This time, when a sergeant pressed the call button, the sound of jangling and banging could be heard. Wood, Macfie, and most of the unit winced; that could be heard by anyone still in the building. The lift lurched up into the Atrium at last, and opened.
–Don’t enter yet,†Macfie ordered as the lift arrived. Wood watched as he ran back across the Atrium and began speaking with Major Foxcastle, gesturing to the lift. The…friendly wizard was soon called over, and they conferred briefly. Macfie nodded, saluted, and hurried back to his men.
–Right, let’s go,†he called. With a few –yessirsâ€, Wood and the rest of the men stepped into the lift. Wood noticed it swaying, and possibly creaking, under the weight—probably what the captain had been concerned about——but said nothing, taking position in the cab. His vision filled with helmets, assault rifles, and AT rifles, he heard rather than saw the lift doors close.
Kingsley watched as the doors closed behind the squad, then the Mysteries-level group and the negotiator in the other lift. He let out a breath, with time to think at last. Who had given the order to treat all the wizards and witches as hostiles, he wondered. Certainly no one had told him about it; if anyone had, he would have made his views known. But with Voldemort still on the loose, he did not want to try to go over Major Foxcastle’s head now. The last thing he wanted was for the SAS to stop listening to him. On the other hand, they couldn’t have everyone in Hogwarts detained—for one thing, the Muggles would need all the help they could get against Voldemort. He would have to speak with them about that. But he eventually needed to determine…well, what to do. With the PM’s authority, they could try to contain this, Obliviating everyone who knew the details of this operation. Without that authority…that could be a problem. They could not do it without his consent; to do so would make them no different from Voldemort, usurping power by magic from the duly elected Government of the United Kingdom. If the PM would not allow the Obliviation—or if tonight’s events, for some other reason, could not be covered up—
Well.
Kingsley decided to do something more productive (although, he wouldn’t admit to himself, a more accurate description was –finding a distractionâ€). He drew his wand and began preparing a Patronus for Hogwarts.
**************************************************************************
Talk continued in the Room of Requirement, but people had mostly returned to chairs, bunks, or the floor, dividing into groups of trusted friends to try to understand the situation. Hermione had been listening to some of the conversations, and was becoming worried about a few of the ones she was hearing. The celebration of the Ministry being taken from the Death Eaters seemed to have given way, in some quarters, to uncertainty, consternation, and even fear about Muggles now being in effective control of it. The ever-analytical Ravenclaws were reminding others that the Statute had been created to protect wizards and witches from Muggles as much as the reverse, and that that was with the capabilities Muggles had had then…
Hermione, herself, couldn’t swear they were wrong. Her father was Labour, and her mother Conservative (the dinner-table discussions were one of the many things that had made her what she was). Her mother had always been very confident in the military, talking about how it was the only thing between them and the Soviet Union’s oppression; her father had been much more suspicious of it. They had argued about the Falklands War for years after it was all over, and the missile defense systems even more so. She was trying to work this thing out for herself now, but that fundamental confidence in humanity’s getting things right in the end on the one hand was struggling with the knowledge of how easy it was to dehumanize a perceived enemy, and she simply couldn’t work out what was likely to happen. Could they trust the Muggles now? Or would they go back to the insanity of the past?
There were never easy solutions to political questions: the frequent debates in her house had taught her that. But now it was confronting her for the first time: the decisions they made today could alter the fates of millions. And she had no bloody idea what to do.
Harry, having heard most of what Hermione had, was feeling worse: his knowledge of Muggle politics and behavior was more or less limited to believing the opposite of whatever the Dursleys had said. His scar was still hurting badly, probably due to Voldemort being just across the room. Swearing under his breath, he finally stood and walked back to Hermione. She was staring into space, lost in thought, and jumped as he approached.
–All right?†she asked gently.
–Scar’s hurting. I’ll manage,†he answered, sitting down next to her. –What d’yeh reckon about all this?â€
–I honestly don’t know,†she said. –What if we can’t Obliviate them all? What if we cannot keep ourselves hidden any longer? What then? I…there are just too many unknowns in all this…â€
–I reckon we need a plan for if the Muggles, well, you know…â€
–There are too many unknown quantities there too,†Hermione sighed. –Maybe we should try to get some more rest.â€
–Suits me,†Harry agreed, rubbing his scar. –I’ll talk to Lupin, see if we can get everyone quieted down again.â€
–Hang on in there,†she told him. He nodded, then began scanning the room for Lupin, eventually spotting him sitting next to Tonks on a couch which had spontaneously appeared. They were leaning on one another quietly, holding each other up in more ways than one. Harry glanced back at Hermione, and for a moment there was this strange feeling in his head, like he had seen a signpost and followed it to something that was no longer there. He shook it off—probably just some more garbage from Voldemort, who was still out in the corridor, becoming increasingly enraged—and began hurrying across the room. At that moment, 3:21:42 AM GMT, Kingsley’s Patronus soared into the Room of Requirement.
–Attention, defenders of Hogwarts,†it said. –Take a moment to soundproof this room before I continue; Voldemort should not hear what I will say.†The voice paused. This was quickly done, as most of the people in the room focused on keeping sound from leaving it.
–Very well. COBRA and I have devised a plan. Around sunrise, Special Air Service personnel will assault Hogwarts and Hogsmeade from multiple directions. Persons in British military uniforms are our friends and allies. However, they may insist upon temporarily detaining some of you: if they do, please comply with their instructions. I will do my best to prevent this from being necessary. You can expect forces to enter from the Hogsmeade passage after securing the pub: those who wish to stay out of the action can then be evacuated. I realize that this information is rather…vague; I will attempt to provide more concrete information when it is available. In the meantime, I strongly recommend that you all remain where you are and not attempt any positive action. Shacklebolt out.â€
–Temporarily, eh?†someone shouted.
–Quiet!†Lupin yelled before chaos could break out again. –I promise you, we will resolve this…situation. Arthur, Harry, Hermione, will you all step over here please?â€
The hubbub lowered but didn’t die as Hermione hurried over, nearly passing Harry. Kingsley may have been a great Auror, but this wasn’t good timing…on the other hand, she couldn’t really come up with any better timing, so maybe he had just made the best of a bad situation…
–Arthur, you know about Muggles, you work with them,†Lupin said, sounding somewhat desperate. –What do you think of all this?â€
–I was Muggle Artifacts, not Liaison,†Arthur answered nervously.
–Nymphy,†Lupin cleared his throat violently, –Tonks, you?â€
–I don’t like the sound of it,†she said. –Death Eaters under Muggle control is one thing, but this…â€
Lupin scanned the group, and those around it, as though hoping some idea what to do was to be seen somewhere. Finding nothing, he dropped his eyes.
***********************************************************************
The lift, coming back up, banged open. Captain Macfie marched out and across the Atrium, followed by his men. He reached the major, halted, and saluted. The major returned it quickly.
–Sir! We have checked the entire second level. We found no one there, although some of the offices seemed to have been searched before we arrived.â€
–Very good, Captain,†Major Foxcastle answered. –Proceed to the next level and search it as well. Proceed down after that, unless anything unusual is encountered, in which case someone should be sent back to report. The facts that Mr. Shacklebolt detected no one there, and no one was there, do not necessarily imply that Mr. Shacklebolt is always right.â€
–Yes sir.â€
The Last Resort by William Brennan
Chapter Notes: Sorry for the long wait, I've been busy with school and things, and there's a big difference between the time required to do something like this and the time required to do it...well, less wrongly.