Chapter Text
~One Month After~
The Swiss Alps were beautiful but cold, even in the springtime. The two women trudging up the side of the mountain past the tree line were well bundled up in warm Muggle clothing. They also had Warming Charms on them, which is why they appeared not to feel the biting sting of the wind.
Long blonde tendrils of hair peeked out of the hood of one of the women. “I feel certain that those marks we saw back there were signs that the Crumple-Horned Snorkack may actually be nesting in this area. I just want to check around the ridge to make sure we didn’t miss anything.”
“Of course,” her friend said, her luxurious fur-lined hood hiding her face. “Might as well be thorough. But then I’d like to go back to the village where—aagghh!”
“Astoria? What happened?” The blonde peered anxiously at her friend who was yelling and clutching at her arm. She tried to help her take off her jacket to see what was wrong with the arm. “Astoria?”
“Luna, I—I have to go. Argh! I can—feel him calling.” Astoria tried to wrench herself away from Luna, stumbling wildly in the snow.
“Who? What’s going on? Who’s calling?”
“It hurts! I just—I have to go now!” Black smoke engulfed her, rising quickly up into the clear blue sky, and then it was gone, headed south.
“Astoria? Astoria!” Luna shouted for her friend, trying to understand what had just happened.
~Three Months After~
“Harry,” the red-headed wizard said, pointing at a small glass cylinder with a flying figurine inside of it. The labelling on the side said, ‘Museum of Quidditch in Lagus, Ophidia.’ “Where did you get that?”
Harry pushed back the shock of heavy black hair that tended to lay across his forehead, and looked at the object in question. “Oh, a friend gave it to me. Why?”
The other man frowned, tapping his finger on his chin. “Do you remember which friend?”
Harry hesitated, doing a double-take to look at it more closely. “Now that you mention it, Ron. . . I don’t.”
“I have one just like it,” Ron said, still seeming confused. “I seem to remember a friend gave it to me, too, but I can’t remember who it was.”
“Do we know someone who went to the Museum of Quidditch in Ophidia?” Harry picked up the cylinder, shaking it and causing the little flying Quidditch player to suddenly have to dodge confetti and colored paper.
Ron considered it for another moment before he shrugged, unwrapping the sandwich he was having for lunch. “It must have been before the Capital shut down. A shame, I think I’d have liked to go with them.”
Harry snorted at that. “You only want to go now because you know we can’t, since we’re not Ophidians.”
“Maybe after they start letting trade go through again, we can get our citizenship visas and go.” It was clear Ron thought it would only be a matter of time.
Harry, on the other hand, wasn’t so sure. He poked his head around the door to peer down the corridor, and then he very quietly shut it, casting a Muffliato around the office, just in case. “Ron,” he said, hesitantly, “do you really think that Brittania will just submit to Ophidia’s demands?”
“Maybe.” The big bite of the sandwich that was tucked into his cheek made him seem comical as he thought about Harry’s insinuation. “Seems that way, doesn’t it?” Slowly, he chewed, before he asked, “You think people are going to fight it?”
With a serious look on his face, Harry said, “Don’t you think they should?”
~Six Months After~
“Dear, we have to go.” The man peered anxiously out the window of their sitting room at a street that appeared empty.
His wife answered from the corridor where she stood in a doorway peering into another room. “I know, I just…I just need a moment.”
He sighed, crossing over to her. “We don’t have a moment. The Resistance said they would only be able to get us out if we left right away. There’s nothing in that room.”
The woman turned to look up at him just as his arms came around her. She leaned her head on his shoulder, her unruly brown curls tickling his face. “I know. . . I just can’t help feeling like there’s something missing. Something really important that I can’t leave behind. And I stand here and I look at this empty room, and I just know if I look long enough, that I’ll remember what it is.”
Chocolate-brown eyes met her green ones as he tipped her face up to look at him. “We have what we need—each other—and that’s all we’ve ever needed. Just the two of us.” He pressed a light kiss to the tip of her nose.
Reluctantly, she let him guide her towards the front door. “Are you sure The Resistance can find someplace safe for us? How can we trust them? They have the same powers as those O-O-Ophidians.” Her tongue stumbled over the foreign word. “How do we know they aren’t going to try to enslave us, too?”
He ran his hands through his thinning hair and said, “We just have to trust them. When I snuck into those meetings uptown, I listened to that Potter fellow talk about his plans. And I have to say, he doesn’t send a chill down my back like when we heard that broadcast by High King Riddle. Potter’s group offered us a way out. That’s enough for me.”
There was a very low knock at the door. They opened it to find a small blonde woman with a strangely dreamy look on her face. Was this supposed to be their contact?
“Hope rises like a phoenix,” she said, her head tilted to look at him.
“From the ashes of shattered dreams,” he finished for her.
She nodded at his answer. “Mr and Mrs Granger, are you ready to go?” She walked inside and with a flourish of her wand, she shrank all of their luggage and placed it into a small bag that she held.
Mrs Granger’s eyes boggled at seeing magic performed for the first time. They’d been hearing all about it on the telly, but this was truly amazing.
Mr Granger peered out the door and noticed that there were no vehicles in sight. He was reluctant to walk down the street with a stranger in broad daylight. “Where’s your transportation?”
The woman smiled at them, putting the bag around her. “I’m it, I’m afraid. I’m taking you to a new location, where you’ll catch the first Port-Key to Australia. We’ve been trying to set up a safe house there.” Briskly, she waved them closer to her, grabbing each of them by the hand. “Close your eyes, I’ve heard that sometimes helps with the nausea.”
With a crack, they Disapparated.
“Sire,” Lucius Malfoy said, reluctantly interrupting the High King when he was sitting in informal council with his most loyal followers. “We’ve received a report of an illegal Apparition with an unregistered wand.” As he crossed the marble floor with the Mark of Ophidia, he conjured the parchments with the location and the faces of those who had gotten away. “The wizard who saw them says he knows where they went. Shall I send a team of Death Eaters after them?”
Riddle took the pictures, staring at their faces—at the curly hair and the warm brown eyes—and the names written underneath them. For several moments, he didn’t speak. When he did, it was to ask for a status report on the Resistance members.
They were calling themselves The Order or something like that.
Ser Malfoy was very clear in reporting that every Order member was accounted for, all of his Death Eaters were in position, and that at any time they could stamp out the tiny Brittanian Resistance. They were simply awaiting Riddle’s orders.
“Are you including Harry Potter? He’s the one that has been fomenting rebellion, am I correct?”
“Yes, Sire,” Ser Malfoy said with a bow. “On both counts. We have an entire team ready to take him down.”
“Do it,” Riddle ordered. “All of them.” He tossed the parchments onto the table and turned to walk up the dais to his throne. “Leave the Apparators be. They are unimportant, and I’m not going to chase down a couple of Muggles.”
“Of course, Your Majesty.” Ser Malfoy walked backward, bowing again. “It will be done, Your Majesty.” Before he left, he added, “Honor to the Great Lady and the King.”
Seated, Riddle stroked the arm of his throne, the tips of his fingers grazing the vine pattern — a casual gesture that the Council was becoming very familiar with. “Honor to the Great Lady.”