Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, Les Misérables and the Scarlet Pimpernel. Since I'm tired of writing this down for every chapter, this applies for all chapters for this story.
A/N: Say hello to NaNoWriMo and my first attempt at writing a novel length story under a time pressure and minimum word count. Now, I've never done this before and I can only hope that you enjoy this particular bit of work. Before you read this one, you'd have to read Luna's Doodles with the chapter title "Light"
Please note that I'll be polishing this by December, so if you see any hiccups along the way, let me know by PM.
Thanks to frustratedstudent for our discussions on this particular story.
Harry takes in a long deep breath of the November air and walks around Diagon Alley, towards the Weasley Wizarding Wheezes shop. His peaceful smile, not minding the populace who is still at awe of him, reflects the wonders of the vacation he recently experienced in Paris.
'Not every day I get to spend time with Lily. Lucky though, I have time off before getting back to the Auror office.' Harry tells himself as he opens the doors to the lively shop. Dodging a flying bowler hat to the head, he sees George back at him.
"Welcome back, partner!" George welcomes, guiding him along to the back and their private quarters on top of the shop.
"How's the shop?" Harry inquires, seeing the various experiments being tested, from prank phones to perfume.
"Business is doing well. Ron actually came up with the 'Oddjob' bowlers that would make you sing one of the James Bond movie songs in falsetto. And it's becoming another hit."
"Good to know, George." Harry replies, giving George a quick handshake and then opens the door to the guest room.
Ron and Hermione are both sitting on the couch, blushing with crumpled shirts. Their eyes lock on to Harry and both look like deer caught in headlights.
"I was about to say get a room, but we are in a room already." Harry quips casually, closing the door behind him.
"Shut it you. Go away, specs." Ron retorts with a welcoming smile while Hermione straightens her pale pink comic-con 2014 shirt.
"Good to have you back Harry." Hermione adds, wrapping her arms around Harry for a moment before going back to Ron.
"Pickles," Ron whispers and Harry suddenly finds himself sloshed by pickle brine from behind. "That's for interrupting."
The three laugh it off as the plastic pickle bucket floats away from the three. Once the container is our of sight, Harry remarks, "Well played. Looks like I'll just have to sic Jamie and Freddie on you in the Christmas break."
Hermione and Ron look at each other and shiver, remembering the last time they were the victims of those two.
Harry cleans himself up with magic and moves his chair closer, changing the teacups into one large parchment and summons a bic ballpoint pen. He then writes one line in the middle.
The corsairs are in Malta
The effect was instantaneous. Ron immediately flicks his wand to close the doors and windows, while Hermione casts wards only used during confidential meetings between the Minister of Magic and the department heads during a crisis.
"What in the flying fuck? I bloody thought we kept the continent safe from those scum-sucking bastards!" Hermione rages, slamming her left fist into the table. Her eyes are razor sharp with unrestrained fury. "Turkey was supposed to stop the tide after the ICW gave us their word that they will keep everything under control!"
Ron holds Hermione's hand and shakes his head. "Let it be, mine." Turning his attention to Harry, he asks, "How did you get the information?"
"Auguste Enjolras. He kept watch over me and Lily in Paris, even if I didn't want someone to tail me like some diplomat." Harry explains, trying but failing to hide his irritation at the thought. "Before you ask, yes, the same Auguste who was with us in the Hagia Sofia, when a squib tried to blow up one of the wall with the C4 inside her charmed pouch."
Ron closes his eyes and shakes his head for a moment to process the repercussions of the news. "We'll have to hit this at the very root or at least close to it. Haven't you noticed that all our missions have been to respond to the Syrian crisis and ISIS in coordination with the ICW?"
"Ron, you aren't suggesting?"
"I am, love. I think it might be time to bring the fight to them." Ron focuses his attention to a pensive Harry. "What do you think Harry?"
Running his hand through his messy hair, he says, "We'll have to discuss this with Kingsley at least. If we fight, we'll be away from our families and might never come back. Do I have to remind you about that near miss in Kos?"
Early March 2014
On top of the flourishing green hills in the idyllic Cyclades, Hermione, Ron and Harry enjoy the commanding and picturesque view of the sea. The sun slowly sets and bathes the sand and surf with golden light. It reminds them of the peace and serenity they achieved after the war. The world, for that moment at least, seems perfect in its imperfection.
Harry's eyebrows furrow before he mutters, "I think our minders are here," holding his holly wand firmly on his hand. Two popping sounds are heard and the three catch the two people unaware as they apparate near them.
The three point their wands reflexively at the new arrivals. Upon closer inspection, they're both wearing robes with the ICW insignia of a globe, a crown of laurels underneath and a wand in front of the globe.
"I told you we should have walked here instead, Mikhail!" the shorter woman berates the tanned Chinese man with her.
"It saves time, Katherine." Mikhail remarks to his lithe blue-haired and pale skinned companion. "My apologies, I got too excited to see the British Trio."
Katherine slugs Mikhail on the left shoulder and, with a slight bow, she begins, "I am Katherine Watson and my idiotic companion is Mikhail Chung. We're your friendly neighborhood ICW 'minders', if you will."
"I hate that term. We aren't personal peons for those saggy-skinned old men to push around." Mikhail interrupts before continuing, "We're here to debrief you on the magical communities in this part of the world."
"But first, let's get somewhere comfortable." Katherine brings out a climber's rope and says, "Please hold on to this, it's a portkey to our operations area here in Naxos."
A tug later, they all settle down in a café overlooking the Aegean Sea.
Hermione gazes absentmindedly at the sea, while Mikhail explains the details.
"There has been a rumor of religious fundamentalist muggles searching and eliminating magicals in the war zones of Syria, along with those of other faiths. Normally, we would dismiss the thought, but as you can see," Katherine takes out photos inside a manila envelope and lays these down on the table.
Hermione inspects the photos closer and sees a rune written in Sanskrit woven into the right gloves of some of the aggressors. "It translates into indrajAlika," Hermione responds, "why do they have the word wizard there? Isn't that haram or forbidden?"
Mikhail's face turns grim and he replies, "That's the thing we need to know as well. One of the defector squibs told us that it warms up when they're touching a wizard, then they'll execute."
"Why not use wands?" Ron inquires.
Katherine nods and explains, "Not every country is as blessed as Europe to have wand makers such as Gregorovich and Ollivander. It's too expensive to even import in that country."
Harry lets out a sigh and asks, "I apologize, but what do you mean by forbidden? How can anyone forbid someone from magic he or she is born with?"
"In Abrahamic traditions such as Judaism, Christianity and Islam, the practice of magic is forbidden and is punishable by death. That's why the Statute of Secrecy was established because of the senseless loss of life. Before this, you can escape and be unseen, as long as you blend in with the community you live in. Being disowned for being magical child is also the usual route most families take in the Middle East." Mikhail explains, focusing his sight onto the sea. "I've seen too many magical kids get killed these past five years. We needed your help because you're the only active ones with hands on experience handling terrorists such as Voldemort and his Death Eaters. The ICW wants to recover as many magical as we can here first and take them to safety."
Harry, Ron and Hermione take a moment to look at each other, before Ron replies, "We're in. Where do we start?"
A week after
Ron sees a makeshift plastic raft in the distance, where other rafts evade for no good reason through his omniculars. "I spot one, Mikhail."
"Let's make our way towards them. Move silently with me, wands out," Mikhail whispers, with everyone moving single file with wands at ready. Harry behind Mikhail, Hermione in the middle, Ron after and Katherine keeping the rear guarded.
As they inch closer, they see a family of four with two girls bringing down their meager belongings on a patched up flying carpet. On the beach is a man wearing a ratty blue military coat with faded jeans and a messy shirt.
"Off to our next stop then, Naxos. Now where is the payment?" A man with a gruff tone and a French accent demands to the oldest of the group.
"We only have five galleons sir, have mercy. We just want to leave that warzone."
A spell leaves his wand and it blasts the man back into the water. Pointing his wand at the family before him, he shouts, "You have no use for the likes of me then. All of you, back to the raft! I'll send you back to Bodrum!"
"Enough!" Harry shouts, disarming the mean-spirited man before Mikhail could even react. Hermione follows through with a ropes and Ron finishes with a stunning spell. All hit their mark within a second.
While Katherine and Mikhail take care of the women and their belongings, Ron pulls the man out of the water.
"You saved us."
"We would do if for anyone. Let's get you out of here."
Horror dawns upon them when they could not apparate away after Mikhail and Katherine left for the rendezvous point in one of the hotel rooms in Kos.
A cutter hits the water near them and they look at the source. Twenty men in robes start to open fire at them.
"Take down that rat and those who foolishly save him! The ICW doesn't understand the hardship we go through, saving trash such as that! They've desecrated our home!" A Greek witch shouts before receiving a return salvo of canaries from Hermione.
Harry assesses the situation immediately. 'Anti-apparition ward, outnumbered nearly 7 to 1 and Ron's shield isn't going to hold much longer. We've only incapacitated three people for now. Should I bring out the other wand? Mikhail and Katherine are too far away and they have may have reinforcements coming in.'
Keeping the tied up man and injured father behind them, Ron pours more magic on his shield while Hermione and Harry go on the offensive.
Spells fly from both sides while Harry's left hand inches closer to the Elder wand. As his fingertips touch the Deathstick, it pulses faintly, almost as if begging to be unleashed in a fight.
Ron's shield fails from the bombardment and just as Harry is about to pull his other wand into the fight, a commotion happens from behind their aggressors.
Hermione notices the spells fly from behind the attackers which cause them to panic and lift the wards to escape.
Ron pants heavily while on his knees in the sand, Hermione begins to heal the wounded father and Harry keeps his wand pointed and on guard.
Three figures approach them hurriedly and Harry could now see that it was Mikhail and Katherine with a blond curly-haired man who resembles a cherub more than an avenging angel.
"We came as soon as we could. If it wasn't for Apolline, we wouldn't have realized at once that you were ambushed." Mikhail apologizes as the ICW duo begins to help out Ron and Hermione clear the place up before removing the muggle repelling ward in the area.
"I've been looking for this bastard for ages." The blonde man remarks then gives the tied up wizard a kick in the ribs.
"Repeat offender?" Harry inquires with a smile of relief.
"Like you wouldn't believe, Le Survivant," his demeanor changes from serious to lightly amused, "He always manages to slip due to technicality." His robes show him being a Lieutenant Captain of the French Auror department.
"Harry Potter. Please just call me Harry." Harry introduces himself with an open handshake. The man nods and shakes it.
"Auguste Enjolras. I hope we'll meet on better circumstances. I'm pretty sure we will have a couple of chances with the ongoing influx of wizards and witches fleeing the war in Syria. Can I take this man?"
"By all means Auguste."
Auguste looks at his pocket watch and apologizes, "I'm sorry I have to leave. Our team leader needs me to coordinate the next wave up north."
Harry nods and they both apparate away to their chosen destinations. 'We haven't even found any clues as to who is leading them at all.'
"We don't need a reminder, but even if we want to help, we have to keep England secure." Hermione informs them and making them realize the risk they would take compared to a few years ago.
"How about we call in the old D.A.?" Ron voices out his suggestion, but Harry shakes his head.
"We can't, they have their own lives now. The Auror office will have to hold the fort while I'm out."
"So we stop them at France before they land on our shores?" Hermione asks. Her face scrunches up from the possible aftermath of that course of action.
"I'll have to. I promised Luna I'll keep our family safe." Harry answers, removing all the wards and protections of the room. "I'll talk to Kingsley, but I hope it will never reach home by helping France now."
With that, the three go their separate ways to prepare for the coming storm.