No Substitute for Victory

Harry Potter, Deputy Minister of Magic, sat at his desk surrounded by several Muggle books, Achtung!-Panzer, The Art of War, and several cheap paperbacks. He looked up from his work when he saw Hermione Granger standing hesitantly in the doorway of his office. "Great! C'mon in!" He waved her to a seat. "Hermione, I need your help."

"You know you don't have to ask, Harry."

"Well, it's a bit embarrassing, but it is something you're ideally suited for." He paused, and then rushed into the nut of his problem. "Percy seems convinced that I'm going to be the answer to his problems in fighting this war. We scored a big victory with the business of the old tablets, but the fact is that I really don't know much of anything about warfare. When I was living with the Dursleys, sometimes they'd watch old war movies on the telly late at night, but that's about the limit of my experience."

Hermione smiled, and nodded in the direction of the books on his desk. "It looks like you're getting a good start."

"Right. I'd like you to buy as many books as you can on the subject for me. I'd like you, and Ron if he's willing to go with you, to go into London and visit some Muggle bookshops." He handed her a chit with a figure on it, and saw her eyes widen when she saw the figure. "Take that to the paymaster's office for Muggle money; it should allow you to buy as many as you think necessary."

"I should say so!" She looked back at him, "I think we should visit the library as well, as there are going to be a few titles that we won't be able to buy, certainly, and you should read them."

"Good idea. I'm also sending two Aurors with you both, as bodyguards." He smiled, "I've made sure they're both Muggleborn, so they won't attract attention."

"Good thinking," Hermione said with a wry smile, remembering their experiences at the Quidditch World Cup.

"Hiya, Harry!" came a voice, and they both looked, and saw Ron Weasley entering the room, smiling. "Heard you wanted Hermione and me for a mission."

Harry and Hermione filled Ron in, and he looked somewhat disappointed, clearly having hoped for something more dangerous.

"It's 10:00 AM now," Hermione said, checking her watch, "so we'd best get moving. There's a lot to buy."

"And don't limit yourselves at all," Harry added. "Even if it's a book about missiles or something really Muggle, I might be able to use it." They both nodded, looking eager. "And if you want to buy lunch, or something sweet, go ahead. Just remember that the bulk of it is for books, okay?" Harry smiled, and they smiled in return, and left the office together.

Harry watched them go, and sighed, wishing he was going with them. Then he picked up the book he'd been reading, making notes and occasional sketches on a piece of parchment. An idea was blooming in his head, and the consequences to Voldemort's forces made him grin.

Many hours later, as Harry was going over the latest interrogations of captured Death Eaters he heard Hermione and Ron enter, staggering under the load of their purchases, their two bodyguards following, carrying packages and stuffed shopping bags as well. As one bag of books spilled out onto his desk, his face lit up as he saw the titles: On War; Life of General Montgomery; How to Make War; Devil's Guard; Patton; Strategy and Tactics; Rommel - The Desert Fox; Think Like the Enemy; and many, many more. "Thank you," he said simply.

"We also checked more out from a library, Harry." Hermione said, indicating a large bag in one of the bodyguard's hands. "You'll have to return them in a few weeks, so you should probably read those first.

"I will, thanks." He looked at all the books and sighed. "More homework!"

"Well, I'm glad you're doing it, Mate." Ron smiled tremulously at him. "This is more important than any Hogwarts test."

"You got that right."

They talked briefly of friendly things, and then they bade Harry goodbye while he was thanking the guards for their work. No matter how small, Harry made sure people felt his gratitude. Percy had drilled that into him one morning, "People enjoy being thanked, Harry. It makes for a friendly office." Stuck-up Percy might be, but it did seem like a sensible rule to follow.

Turning back toward the pile of books he hefted one out of the pile and looked at it curiously. As he flipped through the pages, his eyes widened as he took in the instructional photos on unarmed combat. He read slowly, and began making notes on paper, his breathing quicker than normal. This is good, he thought. Voldemort will never see this coming.

*

"I'm not sure I understand," said Benjamin Sato, as Harry and his two bodyguards stood inside the Rose Pavilion Dojo in the heart of London. "You say you want me to teach classes, but not here? In your place of business?"

"Yes, that's right," said Harry. He was dressed in his Muggle best: a three-piece suit, complete with watch, gold chain, and a neatly rolled umbrella. "I'm prepared to meet your price, with generous bonuses, too."

"For what purpose?" Mr. Sato was a beefy-looking man with a face that was pitted and cratered. Harry guessed he'd had acne as a teenager. He was dressed in a white gi, with a prominent black belt, whose ends were marked by six red stripes.

Harry felt that this was a man who deserved the truth; at least as much as he could afford to give. "I'm putting together a security force, one which must be top-of-the-line. Every single person my people or I have spoken to say you're the best! You'll be training people who have no idea what it means to fight with their bare hands; I want you to make them into something strong."

Benhamin Sato shook his head, his hands resting at his sides, but Harry could see that his heels were not on the ground; he was bouncing slightly, to be ready for anything. "Karate isn't about fighting or being able to beat your opponent. It's about discipline, and being the best person you can be. If you want to train your people to be killers, go hire a mercenary."

Harry stepped forward, and was pleased to see that Sato didn't flinch. "I don't want a mercenary. I want someone who will teach my people that even naked and unarmed, they don't have anything to fear." He handed his umbrella to one of the guards and then stepped back from Sato. "My people are engaged in fighting an enemy, a very deadly enemy who could level this entire building in an instant. We are fighting for our very survival, and though my people are good, they need more. They need discipline, they need an edge, and most of all they need hope. You can give that to them. But already, I can see you need to know what I'm talking about." He turned to his guards, "Denham, Fletcher, don't interfere. Just make sure we're not disturbed."

"Aye, Mr. Potter." The two of them turned and shut the door and flipped the sign to 'Closed'.

Harry walked to the far side of the room, and then turned, with his wand raised. "Attack me," he said.

Sato shrugged, and then launched himself in a blurring motion. Harry barely had time to cast his spell, "Immobilus!" dropping Sato to the ground.

"You are now held in the grip of an immobilizing spell." Harry looked at the Muggle, his body still in what was apparently a pre-attack form, with outstretched hands. "I am a wizard, the deputy Minister of Magic for England; as further proof, Wingardium Leviosa!" The Muggle floated in the air, soaring about the room as Harry directed with his wand. He turned the frozen man upside down, twisted him a bit, and briefly wished he had used Levicorpus instead, but then brought Sato down. "Finite Incantatum!"

Two hours and many explanations later, Harry had secured an agreement with Mr. Benjamin Sato, with an agreed-upon price, much lower than Harry had expected. "The chance to work with real wizards is a rare opportunity!" the overawed man said. He bowed them from his dojo.

Arriving back at the Ministry, Denham, son of a researcher at the Ministry of Magic, asked, "Was that wise, sir? It's a violation of the Muggle Secrecy Laws."

Harry chuckled, "The enemy treats them with contempt, and regards them as a prize in the struggle; they think that Muggles can teach them nothing. But that man can split a solid oak door with his bare foot, and no wand to help him! What does that say?"

Denham struggled for a moment, "An untapped resource?"

"Exactly." Harry saw Fletcher frowning, and turned to him. "You don't agree?"

"With respect, Mr. Potter, what good are close combat skills going to be in our war?"

"It's an added edge, an extra weapon that Voldemort will never expect. Here, let's try it," Harry was thinking back to the book he'd been reading, which had instructive photographs and instructions. He'd practiced a few of the motions before deciding that a skilled instructor was needed. Still, "Take out your wand," Harry drew his in turn. "Now, disarm me!" Fletcher shrugged and cast Expelliarmus, and the wand flew out of his hand. Denham caught it in one hand and watched expectantly.

"Now!" Harry stepped to one side, pivoted his hips and slapped Fletcher's wand, and it went spinning. Without warning, he stepped forward and slapped his foot to the back of Fletcher's knee, knocking the larger man to the ground. He caught the man by the hair and raised his hand. Then, he grinned. "See?" He let go, and Fletcher fell to the ground, his eyes wide and disbelieving.

Harry accepted his wand from Denham, who was grinning. He passed over Fletcher's, but the man didn't take it. He was still looking at Harry, in shock. Nothing like that had ever been done to him!

"You do see, right? That was with only one night's study, and a plan beforehand. Think what the Ministry troops will be like with heavy training?"

"Sir," Fletcher gasped, "I think you're going to take the war to a new level."

Harry nodded. "Yes, I am. I intend to make Voldemort pay dearly for making war on us. He'll have to walk through nine levels of Hell before his Serpent banner flies over our homes. For every wizard he kills, I'm going to kill three of his."

Fletcher and Denham looked at each other, and then as one they stood before Harry. "You can count on us, sir!"

"I know, and I'm grateful. Now, I have to go back to my office."

They accompanied him back, and only when his office door was shut did Harry shudder. I don't know where that came from, but it sounded good. He smiled wryly, and then started. Where were all the books? He'd left them piled on his desk, but now--then he spotted them, stacked neatly in a bookcase that hadn't been there before. But who--?

"Is Harry Potter pleased?" Dobby stepped out from behind the desk, and bowed. "Dobby saw the terrible mess Harry Potter had left, and knew that it must be put away properly. He gestured. "The stores office was glad to lend Dobby a bookshelf."

"Good work, Dobby." Harry smiled, and walked to his chair and sat down, feeling the day's labor catching up to him. "Do you think you could get me some dinner? I don't think I've eaten all day."

Dobby dashed out of the office, returning several minutes later with a tray loaded with a shepherd's pie, tea, milk, and even a dessert of bread-pudding. He set it in front of Harry. "Good?"

"Great!" Harry dug into the meal. After a moment he said, "You know, Dobby, I'm beginning to think I could get used to this. When this war is over, do you think you'd like to work for me permanently?"

The house-elf danced with glee and bowed before Harry, tears in his eyes. He didn't speak, but he didn't have to.

*

"Thank you for coming," Harry said.

"No problem, Harry." Arthur Weasley said, smiling. He glanced at his sons, Fred and George, who seemed a bit confused at their being asked as well.

"I've had an idea on how to deal a crippling blow to Voldemort's forces, but to do it, I need your help. All three of you, have exactly the kind of experience that I'm going to need." He stood up and passed over several glossy photographs, "Muggle pictures," he explained, "they won't move, but I think you get the idea."

Arthur Weasley's face blanched, while Fred and George seemed to blossom in their eagerness. "You think big, Harry," George remarked, while Fred nodded, catching his twin's thought without it being spoken.

"Mr. Weasley, you routinely take apart Muggle vehicles, and then learn how to make them work in magical circumstances. Fred, George, you're always making fireworks do unusual things. I need you to turn those talents to a far more serious avenue." He lowered his head and felt sad. "Sooner or later, Voldemort is going to strike in force, and when he does, we're going to strike back, harder! Something he's not just going to walk away in anger about. I want to make his forces bleed rivers of blood for every handful of power he tries to take."

The Weasleys looked at Harry, and then at each other. This wasn't the Harry Potter they thought they knew.

"I know I sound different," he remarked, and rubbed his head. "I've been given a difficult task, and I think it's starting to tell on me."

"Harry, what you need is an outlet--something to take the steam out of your blood. I've always had Molly and the children to go home to. You need to balance out your life, too."

Harry nodded, thinking back to one of the books on his shelf, The Nature of the Samurai. "Sound advice, Mr. Weasley. Now, I'm going to assign an entire team to you, personally. I want you to teach them everything you know about Muggle machinery, because eventually we're going to start manufacturing."

Mr. Weasley nodded.

"Fred, George, I think you know what your part in this is, without my telling you."

The twins nodded. "We'll get to work right away, Harry," George said.

"The lab you gave us is better than the dungeon at Hogwarts! We should have some prototypes in a few days," Fred added.

The Weasleys stood up. Arthur Weasley nodded to Harry, while Fred and George threw him mocking salutes. As one they turned and left the room. Harry watched them go, and felt satisfied. The next step in his plan was underway.

*

Hermione Granger stood in the doorway of Harry's office, watching as "The Chosen One" carefully clipped the limbs of the bonsai tree. Through her reading, she knew what he was trying to do, and it pleased her. Though a bit clumsy, his movements were careful, and his focus complete. Now and then, Harry would pause, carefully considering, and then use his scissors to cut off or trim an offending branch.

Hermione looked, and saw several scattered books littering the desk, Samurai Nature; Warrior's Heart; The Life of a Soldier; and so many more. For the first time, Hermione realized that the Harry Potter she knew and loved was slowly being subsumed by his monumental task. Though he might triumph over Voldemort, what would be the cost to Harry? How much of him would be lost in the war effort?

At last, Harry was satisfied with the little tree, and he looked up. "Thanks for waiting, Hermione. Are you finished?"

"Yes, here's my list of suggestions."

Harry started to run his finger down the list of names, when a courier stepped into the room. "Excuse me, sir, but we've just had word from Interrogations: You-Know-Who is going to attack Hogsmeade!"

*

Harry looked over the meeting table. At the far end, opposite him, sat Percy Weasley, Minister of Magic. Various cabinet members were seated on the sides of the long table, as well as Remus Lupin, Mad-Eye Moody, Hermione Granger, and several others. Harry knew his strategy was going to be met with stunned faces, but he was convinced it was the right one. So, he opened the meeting with the most controversial part of his plan, "Let them come. I want them to attack Hogsmeade."

"What? Are you mad?" Percy exclaimed.

Alastor Moody looked at Harry and grinned. "Crazy like a fox! I see where you're going, Potter."

Remus Lupin looked puzzled. "You'd better explain, Harry."

Harry tapped the papers in front of him, copies of which everyone else already had. "Voldemort is trying to demoralize us by laying waste to one of the most popular spots in the wizarding world. But if we know where he's going to strike, and when, then we can use that.

"First, we evacuate virtually the entire population of Hogsmeade to someplace safe--"

"Hogwarts," spoke up Hermione. "It's already equipped to deal with a large population, and the house-elves can feed and care for the people until the danger is over. With the school shut down, it's a perfect place."

"Brilliant!" said Harry. "Next, we staff the city with a small population to maintain the illusion that the village is still unaware of what's coming. We infiltrate the village with our own troops, and keep them ready.

"The Weasleys will also move in their creations. You did get those camouflage blankets I talked about?"

Fred Weasley nodded. "All done."

Arthur Weasley smiled grimly. "My section completed five more last night. How many do you want in Hogsmeade?"

Harry thought about the village, and then about the interrogation he'd read. "Not too many. The village isn't that big. Say, four?"

"Not a problem. I'll have them moved there in two day's time."

"Alastor, you've had the most experience fighting the Death Eaters. I need you to come up with a list of potential strategies and battle plans the Death Eaters might use. Thus far, Voldemort's shown no sign of changing his tactics."

Moody laughed harshly. "Easily done. You'll have it in a few hours."

"Remus, how goes the training of the Army?"

"Well enough. Unarmed combat is coming along fairly well. That Muggle you brought in is doing fine work." Lupin thought for a moment. "I'd suggest three platoons; that should give our forces enough firepower, especially with Arthur's creations on our side."

Harry looked at Percy. "Providing you agree, Minister?"

Percy Weasley smiled. "Good planning! Go to it!"

*

The attack came twenty days later, in mid-November.

It was in the early morning hours. The sky was just beginning to lighten, heralding the dawn, but this would be a dark day all the same.

Snow covered the ground, and beneath the cold blanket, the earth slumbered, dreaming of spring.

The Death Eaters moved in force toward the little hamlet. Rabastan Lestrange was leading the assault, with his beloved Bellatrix beside him. They were both grinning as they stealthily approached Hogsmeade. Years of confinement in Azkaban had fueled their hatred for law-abiding folk; they were the fiercest fighters for their master.

The Death Eaters spilled down the forested hillside like lemmings and ran for the village, with their wands extended. "Lay waste to the city," their master had told them. "Burn the houses, kill the citizens, leave no one alive! Let Potter and his minions see that I can take their most beloved treasures anytime I want!" They intended to follow his orders to the letter. Moreover, they wanted to.

"This is the life," said Amycus, grinning. "Steal, kill, take what you want, and it's perfectly all right!"

"Silence!" Bellatrix hissed, "There must be silence before we attack in force!" Then she pointed up toward a street where a lone citizen was running away. "There, that one heard you! You and Yaxley kill him before he sounds the alarm!" The two Death Eaters nodded and separated from the main group, sprinting up the street after the fleeing civilian.

Past empty shops and silent houses they ran. Their quarry was unidentifiable, dressed in gray clothing that was kind of hard to see in this early morning darkness. "Dibs on his head!" Yaxley said as he ran faster. He fired a spell, but the runner sprinted around a corner and then zigzagged onto a parallel street. Amycus guffawed at his friend's failure and hurtled around the corner, too.

But when the Death-Eaters emerged onto the new street, a metal monstrosity confronted them. It had a huge metal tube mounted on the front. The very man they intended to kill was busy yanking an invisibility tarpaulin off it! Yaxley turned to Amycus to ask what it was when the thing's long nose flashed fire, and it was the last thing the two ever saw, as a fiery explosion ripped them to pieces.

"What was that?" Bellatrix Lestrange shouted.

Greyback's werewolves grinned, oblivious to the sounds, only eager for a fight. With a full moon still high during the daylight hours, they were able to move freely, even though it was still many hours to nightfall. Even though their master, Fenrir Greyback, was dead, he'd trained them well. They howled in anticipation.

Then there was a vast roaring sound, and all two hundred of the Death Eaters turned toward their rear, and stared at three of the strangest machines they had ever laid eyes on. They resembled the cars that Muggles drove, but had hard metal treads instead of wheels. Worse still, they were flying like broomsticks, and had strange long metal noses at the top. Three of the noses spouted smoke and fire, and then there were three colossal booms, then three explosions tore through the ranks of Voldemort's followers.

"What are those things?" a witch screamed, and then looked at her werewolf her lover, Felix. He had fallen, and was writhing on the ground. "What happened? What's wrong with you?"

"Pain! AAAH!" Blood was streaming from several open wounds in the werewolf's side, and a small piece of jagged metal was lodged in the shoulder.

Another explosion resounded, and several more Death Eaters screamed as their bodies were torn apart. The witch had eyes only for her beloved, and she pointed her wand at the wound. "Accio," she said, and the shrapnel came free. It was solid silver, and she trembled at that fact. Felix was a deadly fighter, but now he was a quivering beast, unable to do more than shiver!

The flying metal vehicles were closer now, and they continued to fire, the explosions decimating the ranks of the Death Eaters, whose wands were having little or no effect on their metallic foes. Even worse, the vehicles had wands mounted on them with view slits for their operators, and the wands were firing Killing Curses left and right, with deadly accuracy, and devastating effect!

Rabastan Lestrange summoned a whip from nowhere and went to a knot of cowering Death Eaters and slashed out at random. "Get up! Fight, damn you! Your master commands you to fight in his name!" Then a concussive spell caught him in the back and he went spinning down into the mud.

Another roar sounded from the direction of Hogsmeade, and a fourth metal vehicle came clanking out from the town. Three Death Eaters flung themselves at it, firing hexes, but to no avail. With cold efficiency, the machine drove right over them, crushing them to death. Gears shifted, and then the ungainly thing took flight, like any magical car.

"Retreat!" called Bellatrix, who then went down to another staggering explosion, her throat torn open by a hail of silver pellets. Rabastan Lestrange saw her fall, and screamed her name and fought his way through the panic-stricken crowd. Two witches on either side of him died from Killing Curses, and he flung himself down to the cold ground again, crawling to his wife's side. Another explosion rent the air, and he felt something cold and wet land on his back, but all he could think of was his fallen wife.

Wanda Wilkes and a crowd of angry Death Eaters managed to rally three werewolves into frenzy, and they went charging down the slope toward Hogsmeade proper. "Get the citizens! We'll use them as hostages and buy our way out!"

One of the werewolves died from a Killing Curse, but the rest reached a house and yanked the door open. A little old man sat in a chair in the doorway with his wand drawn. "Time to die! Avada Kedavra!" Another of the werewolves was thrown back against its mates, and they all fell in a heap.

Wanda Wilkes struggled out from the pile of fallen Death Eaters and staggered away through the snow, her thoughts a jumbled mess. The cold was biting, but she could barely feel it. She looked back toward her once-proud friends and saw them being systematically dashed to pieces. Even that loudmouth, Rabastan Lestrange, was crawling like a baby! She leaned against a building as a sudden realization crashed through her mind. "This was a trap," she muttered.

"Too right," said a voice.

Wanda looked up and saw a red-haired young man holding a Quidditch bat. Then the bat came down on her head and the world went black.

"Guess these things are good for something besides Bludgers," Fred Weasley muttered, tucking the bat into his belt. He looked once at the raging battle, and then dragged his unconscious victim into an empty house.

White-robed wizards, nearly invisible in the newly fallen snow, came charging out of the forest and out of covered holes in the ground. They dropped enemy wizards and immobilized witches in their tracks. All of the Ministry troops wore two patches: one was the Union Jack, the other bore Harry Potter's lightning bolt symbol. "It means survival against all odds," he'd told them at the pre-battle briefing. "I lived where none should have; now we're all going to live! We strike like lightning, and destroy the enemy so completely, he can never rise again!"

A Death Eater man, bleeding from multiple wounds, staggered to his feet and tried to point his wand. A Ministry witch chopped his hand behind the wrist, then turned her back to him and yanked his arm across her shoulder, breaking the arm. As he fell she watched with grim satisfaction. "I'll be damned. It really works!"

Fireworks exploded over the battlefield, and the armored vehicles began to flank the few remaining Death Eaters into a small knot.

"Bella, Bella!" Lestrange finally reached his wife. He shook her body, and she groaned. He gripped her hand tight. "I'll Apparate both of us to safety, darling. Don't worry!" The two flickered, but Apparation didn't occur. Lestrange looked about fearfully, as another explosion sounded, and another dozen of his master's fighters tumbled to the snowy ground. "What's happening?" he cried out, and again tried to Apparate, to no avail.

As the few remaining Death Eaters huddled together, their wands pointing at the ground, a voice called out to them, "Throw down your wands and surrender, and we'll let you live!" There was clattering murmur as the wands fell to the ground.

"No!" Lestrange shouted. The sight of his disarmed and dying troops was almost more than he could bear.

A Ministry trooper moved forward and scooped up the wands and threw them into a collection bag. His yellow lightning-bolt insignia glowed in the morning twilight.

Five ministry wizards surrounded the Lestranges. "Surrender or die!"

Lestrange again tried to Apparate away, but though he flickered, nothing happened.

A young man approached and yanked away Rabastan Lestrange's wand. "It's over. Surrender, and we'll let you live."

"WHY CAN'T I APPARATE?" Lestrange shouted.

"Because the town and the surrounding perimeter is blanketed by a suppression spell," one of the Ministry soldiers supplied, looking satisfied.

"I know you," Lestrange muttered, looking at the lead man, "Ronald Weasley! I fought you at the Department of Mysteries! I'll not surrender to you, you blood-traitor!"

Ron rolled his eyes, and then had a happy thought. Kneeling down he yanked the boot off a corpse, and then walloped Lestrange on the head with the heel of it, knocking the Death Eater unconscious.

"Why did you do that?" asked Cornelius Chase, one of Ron's troopers.

"Simplified things," Ron said, dropping the boot. "Besides, when he wakes up, he can tell everyone he was beaten by a dirty heel."

There was a scattered burst of laughter, and Ron looked at Bellatrix Lestrange. "Is she alive?"

A Ministry of Magic witch examined her and then said, "No. Dead. Looks like she bled to death."

Ron looked at the gaping hole in Bellatrix Lestrange's throat. "Not surprising," he gestured. "Fred and George's shrapnel shells did a nasty job on her."

"Killed the werewolves, too. Bloody ingenious using silver pellets!"

Ron looked about as the few remaining Death Eaters were led away under watchful eyes. Then he remembered his orders. "C'mon. We've got to do a..." he frowned, "perimeter sweep, I think Harry called it. To make sure no one got away."

As the Death Eaters were herded away, one of them pointed at the rumbling tanks and asked, "What are those things?"

"The next step in magical warfare," was the answer.

*

Voldemort waited in growing impatience for the sign that his forces had taken the village. As the minutes stretched into an hour, he began to realize there was no signal forthcoming. Worse yet, he realized no one was coming back! The explosions and flashes of green light he'd seen had not been those of his faithful Death-Eaters!

What could have happened? These had been his elite, the hardest-trained wizards and witches he had! Surely the pitiful inhabitants of Hogsmeade hadn't defeated them all? What could that village throw at him but shopkeepers and barmaids?

Voldemort flinched as an explosion rent the air, and a gigantic yellow lightning bolt illuminated the sky. It glowed in the dawning light, and the Dark Lord knew the meaning.

"Damn you, Potter! Damn you!"