The day after the attack

The four year old boy stroked the cat under the chin as it purred contentedly. He giggled and reached for its tail. The cat whisked it away and he tried again. It moved and the game continued.

There was a crack from just outside the front door, followed by a knock.

The cat trotted out of the living room, much to the toddler's dismay. It transformed into a stern governess-type woman as it reached the front door.

"Who is it?"

"Mad-Eye Moody," said the voice from the door. "Is that you, Minerva?"

"Alastor?" said Minerva McGonall. "When and where did Sirius Black pull his first prank on you?"

"Damn you, Minnie," muttered the grizzled ex-Auror. "It was outside Albus' office. He charmed my wooden leg to insult my good leg. What did you ask him to do for his detentions?"

Minerva smiled. "He had to fill out his application form to Auror training. And create a new leg for you that had playback charms for your favourite operettas." She opened the door. "Do come in, Alastor." She looked at his grim and weary face. It had a few new scars. He was still wearing hospital robes as well. "Oh no! What's the matter?"

"Did you get the paper today?" he demanded. She shook her head. "Then you'll want to sit down," he said, clunking his peg leg into the living room. The toddler in it took one look at his face and began wailing. Moody rolled his eyes, which did nothing to help the situation.

"Oh, shush, Jonathan darling," said Minerva, picking the terrified infant up. "Look, it's only Mad-Eye." She turned the boy's face to her friend. Alastor smiled, or tried to. The child's eyes widened and the wailing grew louder.

"Bugger," said Minerva and cast a sleeping charm on the kid before laying him down on the couch. She glared at Moody, who shrugged sheepishly. He considered taking his glass eye out and levitating it so he could get a better look at the child - he liked children, he really did - but a glance at his friend's face told him to firmly can that idea.

"You should have put a glamour on yourself, Alastor!"

Moody shrugged, and muttered an apology. "Summon yourself a drink, Minnie." She did so with a worried look. A bottle of gin floated through the door, and she conjured a glass and some ice to go with it.

"I'm ready," she said.

"No you're not. Drink some of that grog first."

She rolled her eyes and took a few sips.

"Albus is dead."

She emptied the glass and prepared to refill it before giving up and drinking directly from the bottle. Moody waited for her to get through half of it.

"Explain."

"Someone found out that Aberforth owned and worked at the Hogs Head. They planted a Muggle bomb there. It blew up half the place, including Aberforth. I was with Albus in his office at the time. He knew something had happened to his brother - that bloody mental sibling connection between them. Fawkes brought us both to Hogsmeade at once. We walked in, and - fucking hell, Minnie! The place was like 1945 all over again! Bodies and shit and wailing and what not. Albus - I've not seen that look on his face since Janice died."

Moody took a deep breath. "We found Aberforth. He'd been dead for two minutes or so. Died instantly. He was near the bar - mostly. His hands and parts of his chest weren't there."

"Albus was completely out of it. He was holding the body, and his hands and robes were getting messed up with blood. I scanned the place for charms and then found that there was a silencing charm inside Aberforth. The bastards had placed a Muggle bomb inside Aberforth's body. Those things make ticking noises, hence the silencing charm. I threw my full shields up while shouting a warning but it was too late..."

Moody took a swig from his ever-refilling hipflask.

"I woke up in St Mungo's this morning. My shields were shattered and magical exhaustion had set in badly. They wanted to keep me there but I had to get this news to you. I didn't have enough strength to hex the Healers, so I took my leg off and bopped them on the heads with it and Flooed to the grocery store near this house. The one with the pickled banana poster in the window."

Minerva would normally have yelled at Alastor for this, but she did not. Instead she summoned another bottle, this time of single malt Muggle whiskey and poured herself a glass of it."

"What's the big news, Alastor?"

"Whether you like it or not, you're the Acting Head of both the Order and of Hogwarts now. You'll have to cut short your leave and get back there. There's a meeting scheduled for tonight, remember?"

"Yes, I was planning to come. Albus' office, right?"

"Your office now. People are going to assume it's not happening. We'll have to tell them it is. Hopefully half of them will show up while the other half prepares to flee the country or suchlike."

"That's the news?"

"That's the beginning of it. Albus said he already told you that Lily Evans is Professor Vanescu, so I don't need to tell you that. Speaking of whom, I'll send her a Patronus to tell her to meet her in your new office tonight at eleven. It would not be a good idea for her to be at the meeting, since she's a vampire and the Ministry is capturing all vamps. Someone in the Order might turn her in now that Albus is gone."

"But that's not the biggest news. This is : Harry Potter is the Boy Who Lived, not Paul. Albus fucked up in 1981."

Minerva dropped the glass. It fell on her robes and the whiskey in it began dripping to the sofa. "What? The Boy Who Lived is a Slytherin?"

Both his eyes turned sharply at her.

"That is not the correct response, Minerva."

"Sorry Alastor, it's such a shock - Albus is sure?"

"Was sure. He's dead, Minerva."

Minerva put her head in her hands and sobbed. Moody looked on awkwardly and took a few large gulps from his hip flask.

Merlin, he hated this.

Harry woke up in unfamiliar quarters. It was a bed that smelt of new linen and lavender and pine.

Wait a minute. Hermione also smelt of lavender and pine. And dusty old books whenever she spent a long time in the library, which was every other day.

The female in question walked into the room. He looked at her blankly, and then shook his head.

"Hermione, you - you - you look like Hermione!"

This was, indeed, true. His girlfriend was, contrary to her adamant position of the previous week, not wearing the strong glamour that the Headmaster had taught her. More memories returned as his brain woke up - he vaguely remembered having shared the bed with her - both fully clothed and not even in pyjamas and only getting under bedsheets in the middle of the night. Yet, given what they had seen the previous day, it had not seemed awkward at all.

She did not answer. Instead she jumped at him in the bed, causing him to thump his head against the backboard heavily. She did not notice. Instead she began to bawl mightily.

Harry was confused. Hermione had never cried like this before. He hugged her, awkwardly and then steadily more tightly as she pressed closer to him. He began to stroke her hair and say that it was going to be alright...

She turned to him and slapped him.

"How on earth can you say it's going to be alright, Potter? Dumbledore was killed yesterday! It's not going to be alright!"

And then she bawled again and pressed herself into him while his stunned hand-marked face paled and his jaw dropped in shock.

Suddenly realizing what she had just done, she pulled back. "My God, Harry, I'm so sorry, I -"

He pulled her in again, this time needing the close physical contact more than she did.

Sirius Black was busy. Around the country, vampires were being arrested and tied with Acromantula silk and being brought to the Ministry. To his immense relief, Lily had disappeared.

Had this been a year ago, he would have turned a blind eye to the way the other Aurors were taunting, and in many cases physically assaulting, the bloodsuckers. He would have even been helping such Aurors, considering that his best friend's wife had been killed by them.

But now that she was one of them... things were different, somehow.

"Jones! Valentine! Stop wasting your energies insulting that poor bastard! Get him to the holding cells and get out there and find the next vamp on your list!"

In Sirius Black's mental dictionary, everyone was a bastard and therefore it did not count as an insult.

Merlin, he hated this.

James Potter was not having a good day. He, like the rest of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, was being vilified by ambassadors from other nations for the blanket arrest order on vampires.

The Americans and Australians and Argentinians were threatening sanctions, and would probably be joined by several other nations. The only reason the Romanians and Slavics and Germanics were not threatening sanctions was that they already had them on, thanks to the British treatment of werewolves and other Dark creatures. But they were still making loud noises and threatening to call for Britain's expulsion from the International Confederacy of Magic for having the most stringent apartheid policy in the Magical world.

Of course, the Americans would probably pipe down soon enough, considering trade relations and all that. Commerce was too important for such things as Magical Being rights to get in the way. And that would keep Fudge's follies firmly in place.

Unless, of course, the American opposition won the upcoming election... it was a pity there was no way to influence those elections.

Merlin, he hated this.

The two children sat on the sofa. Hermione drank tea. Harry drank cold milk. They were both wearing glamours now that Hermione had recovered from her earlier breakdown. They had both tried the coffee that came with Professor O'Riordan's teacher's quarters, but it was clearly an acquired taste that they had yet to acquire.

Their trip to Hogsmeade the previous day had been singularly unproductive. They had learnt one thing though - they had to work on emergency falling charms.

Harry had been nearing Hogsmeade with his feline baggage when the pain struck his scar. Voldemort was very happy. In retrospect, they figured that this must have been shortly after the second explosion, when Voldemort heard that Dumbledore was dead. Fortunately, Harry had managed to almost reach the ground before he he couldn't fly any more, and cats could land on their feet after a twenty foot fall. Eagles were a different story though, and Harry still had some aches in his side.

Hermione wished Crookshanks was here. But that would be a dead giveaway, so he was with her parents in Cape Town.

She also wished that she could turn into her cat form so that she wouldn't feel so damn ... lost. But she and Harry had to talk.

Of course, she had thought that ten minutes ago as well, and they had yet to talk.

"I'm scared," she said, and pressed close to him. He pulled her closer. In any other circumstances this might have sent blood flowing to his nether regions, but not now.

"So am I," he said. "What now? Have you seen mu - Professor Vanescu?"

Hermione shook her head. "I talked to some folks. Someone saw a woman save her from another vampire and take her away."

"To the Ministry?"

"I don't know. I sent your fath - James an owl to see if he could find out." Hermione winced. Trying to keep their identities straight was hard. They had to do it in private, otherwise they might slip in public.

"Think he'll respond? He's not fond of .."

"This is an emergency."

"What if she's already in there?"

"We'll think of something."

Merlin, they hated this.

Harry's charmed notebook began to ring. He dashed to his robes and fumbled in its pockets before finding it. Hermione looked over his shoulder.

Harry, it's Mum here. I'm staying at Oya Aran's house. She's the new Potions teacher. She saved me, you can trust her. I'm leaving for Romania in a couple of days, to try and bring some help. But first I want to see you to say goodbye for now. Can you meet me in the Forbidden Forest, near the old oak where we used to have knife throwing practice, at three pm today? Bring O'Riordan if you can."

Harry glanced at Hermione, who cast the Tempus spell. It was just after ten.

"We can go earlier if you like. She doesn't know you're reading this now."

Harry nodded and began writing back. After a few minutes, he closed the book.

"We're meeting at two now. She can't Apparate there. Scared of the Ministry."

"The Ministry can't track Apparitions, can it? I know it claims it can, but..."

"She thinks they can if they really want to. And she's one of the most high-profile vamps in Britain, so..."

"I still can't believe this is happening." She swore in French, having picked up several new imprecations from the Beauxbatons crowd. Harry looked up, impressed. "Excuse my French," she muttered. "Well, to the Forest we go. Same method as yesterday?"

Harry winced. "No way in Hades. Potter is taking his pet kitty for a walk."

Harry ducked. But Hermione was aiming lower anyway.

"You do realize how many jokes we could get out of this," said Lily idly. "A vampire and a vampire hunter were sitting in a ..."

"Careful, Crina."

"... sitting in a car. What? What did you think I was going to say?"

Oya Aran raised an eyebrow. The other eyebrow might have been raised at well, but Lily couldn't see it from the passenger seat.

"You didn't really push your boyfriend out of a moving car, did you? And stop raising your eyebrow at me. It loses the effect if you do it so often."

"I put a cushioning charm and a selective silencing charm and a disillusionment charm on him first."

"Selective Silencio? Which one?"

"The one so that only I could hear him screaming."

"So this is my cue to avoid mentioning the fact that this car has no seatbelts, right?"

"I wouldn't push a vampire out my car."

"Should I be relieved?"

"See this button here?"

"The one that says eject? Oh. That's not for the casette player, is it?"

Oya grinned. "I love cliches, don't you?"

Crina decided to take the back seat next time she was in Aran's vehicle.

The two kids arrived at the rendezvous point an hour early, with a feline Hermione sitting on the shoulder of an undisguised and much complaining Harry. She jumped off and made a perfect four-point landing. One of her paws ended up on a dry twig. It cracked and she jumped again before she turned back into the figure of Professor O'Riordan. She gave him a pre-emptive glare to ward off any teasing.

The primary reason they had arrived late was so that if Lily arrived with the new professor, the secret that O'Riordan had an animagus form would be kept safe.

"Well, we've got an hour to kill. What do we do about it?" asked Harry.

"It's strange," said Hermione. "Free time. We've not had much of that. Stuff just keeps happening."

"Yeah." He pulled out a couple of knives. "Want to see what she taught me?" Niamh nodded. He conjured a piece of plith board and hung it on a large oak with a sticking charm, and then conjured several concentric circles on it. "There."

The first knife was about half a foot left off centre. He overcompensated with the second knife, landing it nine inches to the right of the bullseye. Hermione clapped anyway.

"I know it's not good enough yet," admitted Harry, "but I'm not using any magic. If I did, then they'd be on target. But this is why I'm a Seeker, not a Chaser or Beater. I can catch something, but throwing it is another story."

"How would you use magic?" asked Hermione, curious.

"It's not completely clear. We're not magically mature yet, so it's harder to control. Cedric could probably do it - in fact, I know he's doing it. He's a much better Seeker now than he was two years ago, and it's not just a matter of experience."

"You're not going to be mature for another two or three years, though."

"Tell me about it," muttered Harry.

Hermione resisted the temptation to say that she had just, in fact, told him about it. Things were too serious for that, if the pace at which Voldemort was moving was anything to judge by.

"Perhaps you can use the magic you have anyway to try and hit the target?"

Harry thought about it for a while, and then nodded. "Remind me to ask my teacher about it. Do you want to try throwing these?"

Hermione nodded. Harry lifted his wand.

"Wait, you're not going to actually Summon those two knives to you, are you?"

"I've done it before!" he protested.

"And you always catch them by the handle?"

Harry glared at her, and Summoned them anyway. He caught the first knife by the handle. The second one hit his palm by the hilt and dropped to the ground before he could catch it.

"See? No blood. And I'll get better with the catching."

"Harry!" she cried. "You can't do that?"

"But I've got cushioning charms on my hand!"

"Oh!" she said, stopping the start of a good rant. "Why didn't you say so?"

"You didn't ask - never mind."

Silence. He handed the knives to her. She threw them, biting her lower lip in concentration.

The first knife missed the tree. A rabbit in a bush behind the tree suddenly discovered religion.

He showed her how to stand and grip the knife better. And then moved her closer to the tree.

The second knife caught the edge of the outermost circle. The look of miffedness on her face was most amusing.

"Humph!" she stormed, and conjured a knife and threw it. It spun in the air, hit the board badly, and fell to the ground. She turned to look at him, her eyebrows raised.

"How come my knife spun and yours didn't?" she asked. He Summoned his two knives back to him, ignoring her protests.

"Teacher explained this to me," said Harry, dropping the determinant in referring to She-Who-Could-Not-Be-Called-Mum-In-Public. "These two knives are weighted differently so they don't spin. The ones you conjured are normal kitchen knives."

"Oh," she said softly, feeling the difference between the knives. "I suppose I can try conjuring these ones, but I'll need more information if the weighting is that important."

"You can?" asked Harry, excited. "I'm sure we can find a book on it! Probably a Muggle book, since wizards don't throw knives." He thought for a moment. "Unless they are butter knives loaded with marmalade, the wizard is Blaise, and the target is Draco."

"Did you get the photograph?" asked Hermione, her eyes shining.

"Naw. Wouldn't have mattered anyway. Blaise missed."

Hermione chuckled, before turning her attention back to the knife. "Why didn't your m - teacher suggest transfiguring knives?"

"i don't know," said Harry thoughtfully. "Transfiguration isn't her strong point. She's a Charms and Potions whiz. But you..."

Hermione smiled. "I think this can be our first joint research project." She thought for a moment. "Harry, since we're going to be doing a lot of fighting soon..."

"We?" asked Harry. "Not we. Me. I'm going to be fighting, you're going to be - you can help, I need your help, but you're not going to be fighting." He ducked his head reflexively.

"Potter," she said calmly. "This isn't about you, prophecy or not. Those bastards fucked with my parents' minds and tried to fuck with my life. I am going to fight and no-one, not even you, is going to get in the way. Savvy?"

Harry backed up a couple of steps. Hermione never swore. He had barely finished redefining the meaning of the word 'never' in his mentalese when courage returned and he stepped forward again. "But -"

"But what? Is this because I'm a girl? Rowena Ravenclaw was a witch and she was a better fighter than Godric or Salazar. Even Helga won a third of the duels she had with Godric. I may not be as strong as you, magically or physically, but I'm not staying behind."

"We'll discuss this later," said Harry coldly.

"No," replied Hermione. "You're being taught by a woman and you want to keep me away from a fight that is mine as well as yours."

"She's a vampire."

"When she was human, she defeated Voldemort. She wasn't stronger in any way, and it came at a heavy price, but she was smarter."

Harry sighed. "Look, Hermione. It's got nothing to do with being a woman. Well, maybe a bit, but my macho self will get over that. But even if I was gay and you were a guy, I still wouldn't want you out there."

"But I'm already out there, and I need to learn to defend myself. You can take care of Voldikins, but he's got people around him that the rest of us will have to fight. Besides," she said, making sure her silencing charms were working right, "I want to go around saying 'My name is Hermione Jane Granger. You messed with my father. Prepare to die.'"

Harry got the reference, thanks to the movie they had watched at the Grangers' residence just before the attack, and laughed softly.

"Fine," he said. "You win, for now." He took a deep breath. "So. We must be smarter. I've been thinking about that. We could coat these knives with potions that do various things, not just poison."

"Yes," mused Hermione, and made a few other suggestions before she suddenly remembered something. "Hey! You know who we should really get on board? Fred and George! The Weasley twins!"

"What? You want to fight the Death Eaters by politely asking them if they would like to have some freshly baked cauldron cakes and then have them turn into giant pigeons? Yes, I realize pigeons will be unable to use a wand and Kedavra us, but..."

"Yes, yes, I can imagine the guano wars when the pigeons fight back. But that's just what they sell to folks, Harry. They've got a lot of other stuff they work on. And I've heard the other Weasleys complaining about the number of explosions they cause at home!"

"Ohhhh," said Harry, starting to understand. "I see. Great, you can ask them - O Morgana, you can't, can you? Never mind. I'll talk to them myself when school reopens. They're practically Neutrals anyway."

They heard wings approaching, and Hermione hastily cast a disillusionment spell on herself while Harry transformed into an eagle and flew up into a tree. They both reverted to their visible selves when Crina Vanescu glided down into the centre of the clearing.

"Quiet, both of you," she said to their surprise. "I'm very glad to see you," she added, "but I need to sweep this place for tracking charms first. I'll go slowly so that both of you can take notes and watch."

Ten minutes later, Lily concluded that the place was free of intruders and watchers and magical recording devices. She added her own silencing and notice-me-not charms on top of the ones Harry and Hermione had used.

Then she opened her arms, and Harry rushed into them. Hermione stood a little apart, and Lily beckoned to her after a few moments to join them in a three-way hug.

"I don't have much time," said Lily Evans. "You know about Dumbledore, right?" They nodded, sadly. "Albus was important, but there are other people who are important too. Right now the people who knew him best are Alastor Moody and Minerva McGonagall. I got a message from Moody two hours ago, saying that McGonagall will be coming back to Hogwarts as Headmistress and to lead the fight against Voldemort. She's a better fighter than she appears, so don't underestimate her. You can also trust - I think - Oya Aran. She's got a vendetta against the Impali vampires who are helping Voldemort."

"Now, communication. I'm keeping my charmed notebook, but we've never tried this much of a distance before." She handed out two pieces of parchment to Harry and Hermione. "Those are Muggle and Floo addresses of friends of mine. Anything you send to them will get to me, though it may take a few extra days. You'll also find Muggle phone numbers there, and some basic Romanian and German phrases. Wait, Hermione, don't you speak some German?"

"Ja," replied Hermione, "aber nur ein bisschen." Yes, but only a little.

"Mum," Harry interrupted. "You can find me easily like you did with the First Task. Is there any way I can find you?" Hermione looked up with interest as well at her answer.

Lily thought about it and then nodded. "I'll need two rings and about an hour of work. Tell you what, I'll get those done today or tomorrow and send them through Professor Aran if I can't get them to you directly. I'm certainly not sending an owl. You'll keep one ring, I'll keep the other." She glanced at Hermione. "Make that three rings."

"You seem to be trusting Aran an awful lot," said Harry.

"Not really," admitted Lily, "though I think she can be trusted, and that's not just because I owe her a life debt. But in this case, the rings will need a key phrase to activate them. Hand me that paper, Harry, I'll write it down."

Mutely, Harry obeyed. When she had finished, she handed it back to him. His eyes widened when he read it.

"Really?" he asked.

"Really," she replied with a grin.

Hermione looked over his shoulder at the paper and chuckled.

"When do you think you'll be back?" asked Harry, serious now.

"A month if I'm lucky. It could be longer. I have a low status in vampire society, though I do have friends. I'll come back with as many as I can, but I'll be surprised if I can get twenty."

"What are you going to say to them?" asked Hermione, curious. "They have no reason to come to Britain, do they?"

"It's much harder now with Albus gone," admitted Lily. "But I'm going to meet with Minerva tonight and see if she can sweeten any deals. And I'll have to see Remus as well. He'll be well enough to follow me next week, I think."

There were suddenly three short howls in the distance.

"Werewolves? Now?" asked Hermione, looking around.

"No, that's Oya. It's her signal to tell me to get back out there. She drove me here - if I had flown I'd be shot down on sight if the Ministry were serious about getting me down."

She hugged Harry, then Hermione, and then Harry again.

"You be a good boy now. I don't know if I'll see you again before I flee Britain."

"Yes, Mum," said Harry, giving her another hug. "I love you."

"I love you too, dear," she said, kissing his hair. "And consider Hermione a maternal substitute in my absence."

"Ick! No, Mum!"

Lily smirked and blew him a kiss as she flew upwards and away, keeping low as she skimmed over to the edge of the Forbidden Forest where Oya Aran's highly recognizable Frankenstein's Monster of cars awaited.

A/N: Comparing British prejudiced regulations to South African apartheid policies seems reasonable. However, it is likely that many magical states, especially in Europe, will have some species-based regulations on their books, so it's really a continuum.

And there's no reason to believe Magical and Muggle nations and their boundaries will be alike, is there?