A Dark Time For The Light

43

Harry told Draco of his conversation with Joe. “You know, there are probably thousands of part-Magicals out there, don’t you?. Just like Caroline and Joe?”. Draco was thoughtful. “Can Hermione or Josie or Ibrahim or one of those computer people design a whassit, web site, to attract the less Magical?”. The question hung there. Then as one, they grabbed jackets and headed over to the Bunker.

They held a breathless conference with their mates at the Bunker. Hermione knotted her brow so tight that Harry ran a gentle finger over the puckered skin, making Hermione smile, “If the North wind blows, you’ll stick like that”. She gently batted his hand away, chortling, “Shut up, I’m thinking. There’s a lot in what you just said. I always suspected there was a selection policy in place at Hogwart’s. I mean, how else would there have been a neat ten for each House each year?. Stands to reason, particularly as the actual births of Witches and Wizards can be a bit random. Okay, you’ve got your purebloods, but they are marrying out more and more, then there are the Muggle-born or Muggle-raised. Complete surprises to their families, but there nonetheless. I have always suspected there were many people who, for one reason or another, missed out on a Magical education”.

Draco shrugged, “It seems we’re slowly finding them, but think what a brilliant army they would make. It doesn’t need much Magic to do simple spells like we did, say, up to and including third year”. Ginny rejoined, “All very well, but wouldn’t it be a bit cruel to put non-trained demi-magiques out there on the front lines?. It’s not as if we can actually train anybody, is it?”.

Harry spoke up. “It would seem on the strength of it, that there are many, and I love your term Ginny, demi-magiques out there. Obviously more than us Magicals. We were the elite, the best in our vintage, so to speak, so that will probably put us on a footing of, say, ten of them to one of us. Add it up, plus the Muggles attached as family members, relatives, friends. These are the people we need to contact and rally behind us, if for no other reason than he has at most three hundred faithful Death-Eaters”.

Draco said softly, “My boss thought it was all barbaric, She wanted to pledge her sword, if she’d actually had one, to the Light. She’s a complete and utter Muggle, but she knows about Magicals. We need to spread our net a bit wider. I think that people like Jacinta would love to know more about us”. Hermione grinned, “I’m currently putting all I can remember of my textbooks online. Particularly Hogwarts: A History. But I’m having all sorts of problems with the computer, it’s agonisingly slow, the nodes have slowed and I haven’t a clue what to do, this is a job for an expert, which I’m not. I’m not great at writing code either”, she closed her eyes and rubbed them. “Ibrahim and I are good at the hardware end, but I need Jose for this bit”.

Harry spoke up, “Can she do this remotely?”, he glanced at the freaked faces around them at the thought of bringing a Muggle into the Bunker. Hermione slowly shook her head, “Sorry”, said small, “She’ll need access to the main server”. A cry of, “Let’s dowse her then”, from somewhere. Everyone agreed to that. Hermione was sheepish, “Actually I wasn’t dowsed either before coming here. Dean brought me straight here, so we could be together and the dowse done. She probably will think it’s about me and she can be dowsed in secret”.

Hermione explained the problem to her lover, then both explained it to a stunned Josie. “Fuck!. You mean, I get to go inside one of the hide-outs?. Cast one of your anti-memory spells if you like. I’ll help out. Can’t resist a challenge”. Hermione fed back to the Bunker. Tonks stepped out with Hermione to meet her friend in a neutral spot. She dowsed them both ruthlessly, standing there in her loose top and cargo pants, eyebrow pierced, bright blonde ringlets to her shoulders.

Tonks giggled as she withdrew her hands. “’Fraid not, Josie. Not even a demi-magique”. Ginny’s term had caught on, being perfect to describe the folk they were coming across. Not derogatory, just accurate. Josie shrugged, “I knew it was just your brains and gear, Hermione”. Her friend’s eyes teared. She grasped Josie’s hand,

“Come to the Bunker anyway, we still need your help and you’re not under the influence of any Dark Magic”. Josie was fascinated. They travelled to the East End and flitted under the quiet low bridges until they were at the secret door and knocked. Tonks vouched for their guest and they were in. Admitted. Hermione and the Witch with the odd hair going before her.

She descended the stairs feeling all eyes upon her. She spotted the computer at the far end of the long room and fixed her eyes upon it while secretly taking in the large canteen filled with nervous folk of all ages. She was being trusted in a way she’d never been trusted before. She clenched her fists and determined to be worthy of it. This had obviously cost Janey, no, Hermione so much, to get her in here. She sat in front of the machine and re-booted it, halting at the BIOS, then typed several things in, “Was this running slow?”, she aimed at Hermione, who nodded. “It’ll speed up now”.

At some point there was a bowl of food pushed in front of Josie. She glanced up and thanked the bearer, then was straight back to work, picking delicately at her food. Her movements a dance at the computer, she speeded it considerably, then loaded loads of hooky but reliable software, then re-configured the system, swigging at the beer she was offered, then the blunts. She re-booted severally and folk wondered. It was when she pressed a hotkey on the keyboard and the Internet appeared instantly, she sat back and grinned, “Done it, Janey”, she murmured. Not only their computer was faster, but the nodes accessing the hub were too. Hermione hugged Josie from behind, “You’re a fucking genius, girl. Thank you”. Josie leaned into the touches then demanded she be taken back to a place she could get home from. Hermione accompanied her. As her train arrived, Hermione raised her palms either side of Josie’s head and murmured a gentle ‘obliviate’.