Sunday, Bloody Sunday

Chapter Twenty-Two — Same Cold Story

"Saturday morning’s paper before me

All is laid out in black and white

One little story lost on the last page

Told of a Charlie Anyboy."

-The Blenders, "Charlie Anyboy"

Sunday, November 9, 2003

Hermione wondered idly what had made her the unofficial, full-time James nanny. It wasn’t that she minded the job, really. James was wonderfully behaved, except for when he was hungry. He was quiet and slept at night, smiled and played happily during the day — he was the perfect little angel. However, a perfect little angel wasn’t exactly what Hermione was wanting at the moment.

She had work to do, and plenty of it. Papers to grade, classes to prepare for, George’s grief to deal with. Her own grief to deal with. But, no matter the reason for her designation as James’ surrogate mother, she sat curled up in the teacher’s lounge with the baby playing happily at her feet. Harry was off researching, once more, and she hadn’t set eyes on Ron since the fight in her classroom. It didn’t matter what Ron’s reaction was, she kept telling herself — but it was really a lie. She did care. She missed the friendship they’d lost when Harry had disappeared. It was too late now, though — too little, too late.

James burbled and grabbed at Hermione’s robe hem, grinning the whole time. With a sigh, Hermione slumped forward, propping her chin on a fist. "Well, little one, it seems we’re stuck with each other. Your dad’s become more of a work-a-holic than I ever was in my school days. And stupid Ron’s hiding from me. And Ginny’s moping over Malfoy, though I thank God she’s safe. I could talk to Demetrius... but he’s as dull a man as I’ve ever met. I wish George wasn’t busy today."

George. Now there was a topic of great confusion. She hadn’t slept with anyone since Ron, and he had been her first. And now... George stepped in, with his sudden devil-may-care attitude, and she’d fallen head over heals. Of course, having James to look after probably helped — it certainly gave the impression of a little family unit where none existed. They’d put the baby to bed in the evening and fall onto the couch in the front part of the three room flat to snuggle, which usually led to much more, a room away from the baby’s slumber. Then, they’d curl up in bed together and rise in the morning to the cry of the child. Only a few days of the routine, and Hermione’s maternal instincts had kicked in, in overdrive. It was driving her nuts.

As soon as Harry’d had time to grieve, the baby would leave her care. The relationship with George would return to one of mutual pleasure, until it became too much for either to handle, and the two would end up in tense situations as they worked together at Hogwarts. She’d seen it happen before, between Professor Sprout and Professor McKellun, the Defense teacher in her sixth year. And they were both dead now, anyway. Best to ready herself for the inevitability of the relationship’s end, as George found some nice witch to settle down with, and Hermione went back to being lonely. That would make it less painful, in the end.

With a sigh, Hermione flicked her wand to turn on the wireless. Though James was adorable, he wasn’t the most wonderful conversationalist. The wizarding radio blazed through a few stations of static before coming to rest on the regular news channel, the only channel she bothered to listen to. "-according to those officials claim to have seen Harry Potter on the grounds of Hogwarts. We’re waiting on a statement from Headmistress Minerva McGonagall as to whether or not the school is sheltering the Boy Who Lived, if he has returned to Britain at all."

"Buzzards," Minerva murmured from the doorway, attracting the attention of Hermione. "They’ve sent dozens of reporters to the doors since Albus’ death, and now they lie in wait for another story? Do they think that public pressure on the wireless is going to change my policies?" She made a noise of disgust and slipped into a chair across from the younger woman. The Headmistress then scooped James into her arms and settled him on her lap.

Hermione gave a slight smile. "How long are you going to keep his presence here unofficial? Dozens of students have seen him working in the library, and I’m positive the girl who saw George punch him reported home to her Death Eater father. It’s not a secret."

"No. It’s not secret." Minerva gave a sigh, shifting the squirming baby to a less painful position on her lap. "I’d like to keep him from the public until he’s at least powerful enough to Apparate once more. He needs the appearance of strength, at the very least."

"Minerva," Hermione began hesitantly, not sure whether reproaching a long-tossed aside topic was a good idea or not, "why is Dina Nott still attending Hogwarts? Or any of the other five with known Death Eater parents, or the half of Slytherin House with suspected loyalties? We’re weak, right now, without Albus. You’ve not yet been firmly cemented as Headmistress. Their being here puts the other students in danger."

As Hermione had thought, her questions weren’t well received. "This is a school. This is not a fortress of war. Those children of Death Eaters deserve to learn as much as any Gryffindor or Hufflepuff. Albus understood that, and I understand it, as much as it hurts to watch any of the students I’ve taught ride off into battle and die. I taught Sirius Black and James Potter alongside Peter Pettigrew and Lucius Malfoy. They weren’t heroes or enemies then — they were merely children. If we have the chance to teach one child of a Death Eater that killing isn’t right, then that’s one victory."

"One child like Draco Malfoy?" Hermione offered.

"Draco Malfoy, Severus Snape, Blaise Zabini — the dear girl’s been recovered from Malfoy Manor — each one was as much a triumph as Peter Pettigrew, Percy Weasley, and Roger Davies was a failure. Our job is not to teach only the ones who seem the most righteous, because who knows when we’ll end up with another Percy Weasley? Who could look at him when he was Head Boy and know he’d murder his own brother?"

Hermione nodded meekly, finally coming to a slow understanding of Albus’ treatment of Draco Malfoy, and Snape’s treatment of... everyone. The wireless played a new song by the Ash Tree Nymphs, covering her silence and Minerva’s soft cooing noises at the baby, who seemed to be enthralled by the older woman’s glasses. She opened her mouth to change the subject to something unrelated to the war, but the song on the wireless was suddenly cut off by an announcer’s voice.

"This is an urgent news report. A crowd of cloaked and hooded figures have just been seen breaking down the front door of the Ministry building in London. Aurors have been called to the scene, and our King’s Alley reporter will be coming on the airways in just a moment." The voice cut off and Minerva and Hermione exchanged alarmed glances.

The second voice came on over a bit of magical static. "This is Clio Morgan, reporting from the atrium of the Daily Prophet offices in King’s Alley. Just outside, at least a dozen Death Eaters are storming the Ministry building. The attack began about fifteen minutes ago, though the timing seems odd to me, even if it is a Sunday. While there are no doubt a good number of workers in the building, the election for new Minister of Magic isn’t to occur until tomorrow. Wait — half a dozen men in Auror’s robes have just appeared, and are now battling the Death Eaters."

Minerva rose to her feet, holding James close. "I have a terrible feeling, Hermione." James was passed to the other woman, as the reporter kept speaking.

"The battle seems to be going in the favor of the outnumbered Aurors! I can only see five Death Eaters left, and only one Auror has fallen — Zeus! There’s more of them! They Apparated in — the front of the Ministry just got blasted in, they’ve taken the Ministry! The Death Eaters have taken the Ministry of Magic! I can’t see any more Aurors outside, I think they’re all dead. Oh my... they’re coming for the Prophet. Gods have mercy -"

And there was static. Hermione was on her feet in a moment, James tucked close to her body. "I wonder if they’re trying to take all of King’s Alley? What are we going to do?"

Minerva had no time to answer, as the static stopped and the main studio came over the wireless again. "In one move, the Death Eaters have taken most of King’s Alley in London. This is Hyperion Jones on WWN. There’s someone yelling out in the hallways. If we go off the air, we have been taken by Death Eaters as well. Whoever is listening, please stay away from the King’s Alley section of London! I have a report that the interim Minister of Magic has been moved to an undisclosed location with most of the Magical Council, none of whom were working on this Sunday afternoon. I repeat, the Minister and Council are safe and in hiding. Wait, there’s someone coming up the stairs. Keep us on the air, Marcy? We’ll keep broadcasting for as long as we can. King’s Alley has been taken by Dark forces -" And the signal roared into static again.

Hermione shut off the wireless with a flick of her wrist. "Shit."

"Stay here with James. There will be a meeting of anyone who can make it to the staff room in a half hour. I think this is the end of our safety, Hermione." Headmistress McGonagall turned and swept out of the room.

She sat and stared at the wireless in shock. She’d been expecting some attack today, it was bloody Sunday, after all. But somehow, when Harry Potter was in Great Britain, the expected became horror.

~

The students safely locked in their dormitories, the staff of Hogwarts and their guests filed into the staff room in confused silence. George took a seat next to Hermione, Snape near Draco and Ginny, who were clutching hands under the table. Ron sat far from all of them, in the midst of the newer Hogwarts teachers, and a few seats from Blaise Zabini. The other Weasleys mingled with the older Hogwarts teachers. McGonagall stood ready at the head of the table — and ready they were, but for one member of the group. His entrance was impeccable. Cloak sweeping in dramatic fashion, no doubt learned from years of Potions lessons with Snape, Harry Potter crossed the room and took a seat near McGonagall.

"King’s Alley fell."

Minerva’s proclamation sent those assembled into an uproar, which reminded Blaise of nothing more than meetings of the House of Commons on a bad day. Demetrius shouted, Snape thrust to his feet and banged his fist on the table, Ron turned to scream across the table at Draco Malfoy and Ginny stood to protect her newly returned love. It was a good ten minutes before McGonagall managed to regain order.

"No one in office was in the Ministry building. WWN reported that the government officials have been relocated. Wizarding Britain hasn’t fallen yet. The question is, how did this happen?" McGonagall sent a piercing glare in Draco’s direction, and then Blaise’s.

When Draco shrugged helplessly, Blaise sighed and rose to address the others. "I think it was during the riot. It was incited by the Death Eaters. I’ve no doubt they must’ve stripped away a few of the wards while the mob was busy trying to get into the Ministry."

Minerva nodded shortly to Blaise. "Alright, then. Our government is still in place, for now. However, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Hogwarts is near the top of You-Know-Who’s list."

"Professor McGonagall — Minerva," Harry Potter spoke up softly, not bothering to get to his feet. "Use his name."

"Voldemort," she hissed angrily, glaring icily down the table. "Voldemort’s list. Because Albus is dead, he thinks us weak. We’re not. All the wards which were intertwined with Albus’ life force have been replaced by permanent versions — though, admittedly, some are weaker. An equal number have been tied in to my own life, and Molly found a spell that will transfer ownership of the wards down the line of command of Hogwarts. In the event of my death, Severus Snape will be the next Headmaster, followed by the other four Heads of House — Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and then Hufflepuff, as established by the Founders — and pass next to Professor Sinistra, Madame Hooch, Professor Dendron, and so on. Hopefully, it won’t come to that. Now, are there suggestions to other charms and wards which might be added to the ground in this time of need?"

It took a few moments before anyone spoke, all still stunned by the Headmistress’ casual disregard of the possibility of her death. Finally, Charlie Weasley spoke up from beside his parents. "There’s an old Romanian charm which keeps track of the number of people within an area at any time. We used it on the dragon’s."

"My grandfather, Claudius Malfoy, used that charm on the Manor. I could probably add my strength to yours to make it more potent," Draco offered. He and Ginny were practically curled up together, despite the arms of the chairs between them. Ron looked vaguely sickened, but Blaise triumphed silently.

"Good. I’ll leave the two of you for that. Anyone else?"

"Magic," Blaise heard herself saying. "It’s supposed to be illegal in the hallways, and Filch doesn’t use magic to clean anyway. If the castle is overrun, it might give us an advantage to have a magic damper in the hallways." Fred had put a magical dampening field on the front atrium of Voldemort’s rooms.

"But they’re using Muggle weapons too," George put in. Blaise found herself teary eyed and jerked her head to the side to stop seeing the face of her dead lover. He continued on, not noticing Blaise’s private anguish. "Percy..." there was a choke, "Fudge and Dumbledore were murdered using a Muggle weapon. A handgun. Ekletricity doesn’t work on Hogwarts grounds, but the handgun doesn’t use ekletricity. That’s how it worked inside of Fudge’s office. They might have the same idea."

Blaise focused on McGonagall, blocking out George’s face and voice. Fred’s face and voice, only overshadowed with a hopelessness and despair he’d never felt. "We’ll put the dampening ward, it was a wonderful idea, Blaise. There’s nothing we can do about the... handgun, was it? If they use those, the only thing we can do is hope they have bad aim. Now, Blaise, what do you know about upcoming attacks? And the hostages?"

"They’re all in the dungeon of Malfoy Manor," she answered mechanically. "Draco can tell you more about them. He went down to find them after he sent me through the Floo network. I knew nothing of today’s attack. I don’t know how long Voldemort has suspected my betrayal, though. Probably since F-fred -" Blaise bit her lips, willing away tears, and cursed her pregnancy-caused unstable hormones.

Draco saved her from attention, though his words were barely an echo across her mind. "They look to have been tortured. The moment I attempted to break the bonds, an alarm went off in the compound upstairs. Parvati told me to get out. She told me to warn Potter. I suppose they’ll be used as bait for a trap next Sunday."

"Seven hostages. Is that a significant number?" Snape demanded, surprising everyone by taking control of the conversation. "Draco? Ron? Potter? Is seven important?"

"Seven years of Hogwarts?" Potter responded.

"Seven days in a week," Ron countered.

"He came back to power when we were all fourteen. It’s a multiple, though that seems not to be the right answer," Hermione interjected.

Draco gave a shrug. "Or maybe he was just able to get ahold of seven of our yearmates. Though that seems highly unlikely. Voldemort does love his symbols."

Minerva shook her head. "We don’t know enough, and we’re out of spies. Predictions on his next strike?"

"Hogsmeade, next Sunday," Draco offered immediately. "We’ll be expecting it, but he must have insiders in the Auror force. I know there were plenty at the Ministry."

"That’s it, then. We need to have a plan of attack ready by Friday, with Hogsmeade in mind... George, I want you to do some scouting. Sniff out any traps that are already in place. Hermione, you’re going to help Harry and Ron with the research they’re already doing. I think tracing this spell will be incredibly important." Blaise noticed Harry and Ron exchanging guarded glances during McGonagall’s speech, but thought nothing much of it. "Poppy, I want you and Severus to make batches of healing potions. Get any classes who are able to make them during lessons this week, Severus. Charlie and Draco will work on the numbering ward... Madame Hooch, I want a patrol of the Forbidden Forest for the next few nights; be on the lookout for anything unusual. Am I forgetting anything?"

Blaise lifted her hand, noticing Molly and Arthur Weasley doing the same. The professors who hadn’t been named made slight nods as well. Minerva pursed her lips. "All the professors will be patrolling the halls, especially wary of the twenty-three students on the warning list — you all have it. Blaise... Molly, Arthur... you’re going into hiding tomorrow." Before she could shoot to her feet in protest, Minerva shook her head. "Please, I need to be sure some people are safe. Arthur, you’re next in line for Minister, if Deputy Minister Barrett dies. Molly, I’ll be sending you to help with a group of at-risk children who have been in hiding since their parents were killed. You’ll both go together, and take Blaise with you. And Blaise..." her voice softened, "I’m not going to let you risk that baby. It’s his only heir."

Though most of the others gave confused looks in her direction, Ginny and Draco met her gaze comfortingly. Blaise sighed and buried her face in her hands. She was useless again. Same old story.