HP/LOTM: Visionary - 413

Chapter 413: The Exiled Trio in Britain

"We won!" The Egyptian wizard who had spoken earlier said it this time as a statement, not a question.

Seeing their commander flee, the surrounding Death Eaters lost the will to fight and began to retreat en masse. The Egyptian wizards seized the moment, harrying them as they Apparated and steadily widened their lead.

They chose to maim rather than kill wherever possible, grinding down Voldemort’s remaining effective forces and setting the stage for the next full offensive.

With the wizard war between the two continents over for now, the Egyptians quietly began handling the aftermath. They wiped the memories of witnesses in neighbouring countries, while loudly proclaiming Voldemort’s crushing defeat abroad to draw more wizards opposed to him into Egypt’s camp.

Voldemort’s side refused to back down. They completely lifted the Secrecy law, declaring that wizards were free to plunder Muggle wealth and conduct Dark magic research at will, drawing the world’s ambitious and ruthless flocking into Europe. At the same time, they announced to the outside world that they had won, claiming Egypt’s fighting strength had been heavily crippled.

Across the ocean, the American Magical Union and Eastern Xia both turned a convenient blind eye and quietly emptied their prisons of Dark wizards, which did wonders for the crime statistics in their own wizarding communities.

As for the ever-excellent British region, it continued acting as an offshore trouble-stirrer, both at home and abroad.

Every last capable Auror was deployed for one purpose: hunting down three young witches and wizards who, by age, ought still to have been sitting their classes at Hogwarts.

But thanks to the British Region’s vaunted four-step Humphrey Process, by the time they formally announced events to the public, they had already lost any real chance of catching them.

In a deserted patch of forest in the Scottish Highlands, Harry, Ron, and Hermione fell out of thin air.

Ron, never good at Apparition, had splinched himself. A chunk of flesh had been sheared from his shoulder. Worse still, as Hermione Apparated, a Death Eater had grabbed her, dragging them along to Grimmauld Place.

The Death Eater’s observation forced that secret into the open. Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, was blown, and the Order of the Phoenix, already short on safe houses, lost another base.

Hermione was at Ron’s side now, dripping Essence of Dittany over the torn flesh and wrapping fresh bandages around the splinched shoulder.

"Harry, I’m so sorry. I actually made it there, but Yaxley grabbed me and I couldn’t…" Hermione said, drowning in guilt for exposing the Black family home.

"It’s not your fault. We knew going in that fighting Death Eaters would cost us," Harry said.

He summoned a few sturdy branches with his wand and worked with Hermione to splint Ron’s arm.

Once Ron’s breathing had evened out, Hermione walked to the edge of the trees. With blood still on her fingers, she began to cast.

"Protego Totalum. Salvio Hexia. Repello Muggletum. Muffliato…"

"What are you doing?" Harry called, seeing her working spells in the distance.

"Putting up protective enchantments. You don’t want another Shaftesbury Avenue, do you?" Hermione said, glancing back.

"You can set up the tent."

"Where?" Harry looked around. There was no tent in sight.

"In the bag," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. She was very glad she had come with them. Left to themselves, they would probably have handed their lives back to nature by sheer incompetence.

Harry hurried over and opened her bag. A knitted dragon worked into the fabric caught his eye, but now was not the time for questions.

He pulled out a tiny tent, no bigger than his palm when it lay in his hand.

"This?" he said, baffled.

"Put it on the ground and use the Engorgement Charm," Hermione said, still busy layering wards again and again across the clearing.

She had learned this sort of multi-layered casting a long time ago from Aiden’s notes. She had not expected it to come in so handy.

Harry set the miniature tent down and pointed his wand. "Engorgio!"

The tent shot up at once, slamming into him and sending him flying. Hermione walked over, hauled Ron to his feet, and half-carried him inside.

That night, the flicker of the fire lit the young faces around it. There was nothing pleasant about the feeling of having left home behind and becoming refugees.

"By the way, Hermione, I saw a dragon crest on your bag," Harry said, thinking back to what he had noticed earlier.

"Yes. Aiden gave it to me as a birthday present before he disappeared. I wondered what he meant by it at the time," Hermione said, staring at the kerosene lamp with a strained smile.

"Wait, you’re saying he knew all this would happen and just let it?" Ron burst out. "Right, he’s a Seer. That bastard is probably hiding somewhere right now, watching us make fools of ourselves!"

He wound himself up higher and higher, finally yanking out his wand to let off a curse. Fortunately, Hermione was right behind him. A silent Expelliarmus snapped his wand out of his hand before he could burn the tent down.

"You idiot. Did you forget what we saw in Avalon? Aiden’s stuck there!" Hermione snapped, knocking some sense back into him.

"Sorry. I just… wasn’t myself," Ron muttered, head down.

"You’re just exhausted. Get some sleep," Harry cut in, shutting down the argument. They were all in the same boat now. If they started turning on each other, they truly would have no hope left.

Hermione put out the lamps. A quiet night closed around them.

The next day, sunlight filtered through the leaves in mottled patches. A ray straight into his eyelids dragged Harry awake.

The tent flap was ajar. It looked like his friends were already up.

Harry pushed aside the canvas and saw Hermione cooking while Ron sat beside her.

"Hey," Harry said, greeting them. Both looked thoroughly depressed.

"What’s wrong?" he asked, seeing their faces.

Hermione rapped the side of the radio. It crackled, then picked up the news the Ministry was broadcasting on a special frequency.

"Under the leadership of the great Lord Voldemort, we have conquered Europe. The front has now advanced to the Mediterranean, where yesterday we achieved an unprecedented and unparalleled victory…"

"She’s getting stronger. We have to move faster," Hermione said, her expression tight.

What neither of the boys had grasped yet was just how terrifying it was that Voldemort could muster an army of tens of thousands of wizards.

Listening to the same broadcast was a dragon dozing in the Hazy Realm—Avalon—and the man perched on his head.

"Heh. Thrashed by Edmund and running with her tail between her legs, and she still has the face to call that ‘unprecedented and unparalleled’," Oliver said, flashing a double V-sign before crooking a finger.

"No idea. Maybe she’s read one too many magical promotion manuals," Aiden said, exhaling. The power rolling up from the Deep Realm scattered before his breath.