The Granger Defense
Chapter Two: Defenseless? Not Defenseless at All
By Aaran St Vines
Harry paced the room, becoming obviously more agitated by the minute. . This was Hermione - and her folks. As sympathetic as he was for anyone else being attacked, and upset as he had been over Sirius passing through the Veil - THIS WAS HERMIONE!
"I'll fix some tea, deary," said Mrs. Figg.
Harry turned to her in desperation, "Have you ever heard anyone discuss how to Disapparate? If you describe it, I'll try to do it. I'm good at learning defensive spells, especially under pressure. Maybe I can figure out how to Disapparate right now."
"No, deary. Everyone goes to special classes at the Ministry Training Annex. They don't talk about it at home so you younger children won't try it. 'Fraid you'll splinch yourself."
Harry looked lower than low.
"I'll fix some tea, deary."
Flashback to late October of 1977 - - She turned quickly and startled him with her vehemence, "If you follow me for one more step I'll scream bloody murder!"
"I am not following you," he said. "I live in that building over there. I recognized you from class and I must say that I was concerned about your safety in this part of town. I was considering following you to your building to make sure you arrived safely but I won't follow you past my building. I will even wait here for a minute or two and let you get well ahead of me before I walk my last few hundred feet."
Only after he started talking did she recognize him in his winter coat with the scarf around his neck. She was horrified that she'd spoken to a classmate in that manner, this classmate in particular.
She had chosen this building to live in because she was unable to pay more. She was very concerned about debt. Even with tuition reductions for family income, financial prospects looked bleak until long after starting her dental practice.
She had started a filing job that very day in the administration building to supplement her loans. She was eating out of discount can goods and had meat only twice a week, but was considering economizing further.
When he stopped talking, she said, "I'm so sorry I yelled at you. I live in that building too, but I have never seen you there before. Of course, I've always either gotten back to my flat before dark or sprawled out on the couch at Meg's place. That's getting old. Meg doesn't mind but her flat mates do.
"Now that I have this job to help make ends meet, I'll have to walk home after dark every evening, at least until the afternoons get longer in the spring. I'd welcome your company. I'm a little afraid here at night. But I bet walking with a former SAS member has to be a little safer." She thought she was chattering, but she also hoped she was complimenting him.
He stiffened and slowed next to her while turning to face her. "I was never in Ireland. The fighting I did was...well, let's say I served with distinction by my standards, and if you do not care for former soldiers, I will escort you safely to your flat and never again come nearer to you than I do in class." He was holding himself erect as on a parade ground and turned as if given the order to march.
She touched his arm just enough so he could feel the slightest pressure. He paused, and she applied enough additional pressure to cause him to turn back to face her. Her voice held as much admiration as she could muster. "My father was a commando in the war. He speaks with begrudging admiration of the skills of the SAS, which as you might know, is high praise from his lot." She gave him a hopeful smile.
Just perceptibly, he softened his ramrod stance. She plunged ahead. "I respect what you did, serving our country. Meg and I have been friends since university. She was the only other woman in our year interested in dentistry. We're friends by proximity, but I don't hold her political opinions. We've agreed never to discuss a number of issues in order to maintain our friendship. But I'd wager you and I hold much more similar world views."
This was more than enough to either work or never work. She thought he was so handsome. He had let his hair grow a little more than at the start of term, it was still shorter than all the other men's hair in class, but the gray was not as obvious at this length. She admired his bearing and carriage, and she had to wonder if she wanted what her mother had wanted in 1941 when she had married her commando after knowing him only seven weeks.
This was the first man that she'd ever met near her age that reminded her of her father.
He softened. He loosened his guarded stance slightly. Finally, after what had to be only ten seconds but to her seemed a tiny eternity, he smiled and formally offered her his right arm. They walked slowly together in silence until they reached the front of the building. It was a comfortable silence, remarkable since they did not know each other very well.
He asked her flat number and discovered he lived in the same number that she did, just two floors below - she was on the third floor and he was on the first, one above the ground.
She realized the first move would have to be hers, so she took a chance. Her friend Meg had cursed him terribly at that first encounter, and she had been unintentionally not much better because of her silence. They were on the stairs and she was desperate for a way to continue her time with him. "Please let me fix you dinner. It's the least I can do after what my friend and I have put you through."
He finally smiled. "Can you cook?" She knew he was only asking in a joking manner. The look in his eyes made her feel that he was too kind to be mean-spirited. He wasn't questioning her abilities or calling into derision her invitation. He had a wonderful smile, she realized. She thought that he had a wise face that had perhaps seen more than he wanted to in his years of service.
She somehow knew she had finally met a man she could marry. It remained to be seen if he would be the one, but he might be the one.
And no, she could not cook.
Dentist Ted Granger was on the lift in the Medical Center heading to the car park levels below when he pulled out his mobile phone. He had seen a parcel left in a corner in the waiting room as he locked the door. He thought then about going back and placing it in the box kept for things lost. One or two personal items a week ended up in that bin. Most things were collected within a few days.
If his receptionist had missed it at closing, then she might miss it again on Monday and not be able to tell anyone calling to inquire, that it was there. He brought the mobile phone up to dial his office and to place a message on the recorder once the lift door opened. But he stopped before dialing. He remembered that the staff would not be there Monday morning. They would all be on holiday, as would he.
Still holding the mobile in his right hand, he stepped out into the garage level where he had parked his car. He heard and felt an explosion that rocked the building. He was about to turn and go back up to the first floor to see what had happened. Instead, Ted Granger looked up into the face of what must be, by Hermione's description, a Death Eater.
"Avada Keda..."
Flashback to the early Spring of 1978 - -
For the first time in months, she was not walking home with her "SAS chap" as she called him. Somehow, Meg had wrangled herself an invitation back to Madge's flat for a meal. Madge had finally learned to cook, a little. He'd taught her.
That first night had been a disaster in her kitchen. She'd burned everything she opened. He smelled the burning and heard her mild, frustrated oaths. He walked in and smiled at her. His smile did not condemn her cooking skills. He simply said, "Come with me. I can cook."
She had a few tears in her eyes that quickly dried. He gave her his right arm after she locked her door, and they walked down the stairs to his flat. Whereas he had to wait outside for a minute at her request so she could straighten a bit, his rooms were pristinely neat. Quite Spartan actually. What she could see of his flat was bare except for a couch, a small television, a desk with books alphabetically ordered and held by bookends, and a kitchen with shelved items arranged by category and further arranged by height.
In no time, he had a simple but delicious meal at the table and she marveled at his ability. They talked freely and openly about everything. He panicked at 10:37 because he had not studied as he had planned to that night. She could miss a night's revision because she was three weeks ahead of the course syllabus in every subject.
The next day after that first night, they happened to meet earlier in the walk home and made the most of the trip together. He offered to cook, and when she balked, he asked if she would help him with some of his difficulties in a particular class they had together. It seemed a fair trade. Both thought they were getting the better of the deal.
The next afternoon he walked out of a shop and almost right into her. They walked together, ate together, and studied together.
Thursday afternoon she came upon him reading on a bench. They walked together, ate together, and studied together.
Friday he was waiting for her as she came out of the administration building.
"Madge, please sit over here with me for a minute."
She became fearful when she heard those words. In that instant she realized he had come to mean a lot to her. She had fancied and had tried unsuccessfully to dismiss, that she might be in love. And that tone in his voice portended an end. She tried to keep her face calm.
He sighed and lowered his head into his hands. She placed her hand on his right arm. "Madge, I've misled you, and you have every right to be furious with me. I...We...I, that is, well, I planned all of this like a military operation. I've not been able to keep my eyes off you in the classes we share. I scouted out your walk home for over a week after I noticed one day that we live in the same building. I was following too closely on Monday when you first saw me because you were running late and I was afraid for your safety.
"You must hate me for misleading you. You've come to mean too much to me to let it go on further without telling you the truth. I must tell you now of my machinations and let you end our relationship before it really begins. Much longer and I'll not be able to stand the loss." He rose to leave.
"You want a relationship with me?" He barely heard her. He froze in place. He turned. She continued. "I want one with you. The second I saw you in class I decided I wanted to get to know you, but Meg queered that chance that first day. This has been one of the best weeks of my life. Don't go. Walk me home?"
That night they kissed good night.
That was late October. Meg and Madge were walking to her flat in late March.
There is a very seedy part of London, just like there are bad sections of every city. Tony Peet ran one of the worst gangs in one of the worst parts of seedy London. To be in his gang you had to have killed someone. They were bad and they were known as bad. The London police were finally doing something to curb gang activities. A third of Tony's ruffians were under arrest and he was feeling the pressure.
That very morning an Oxford professor of sociology had been on the television discussing gangs and gang related activities. He was a bit sympathetic towards them for some reason, but Tony thought he was insulting. Madge's SAS chap heard the interview while fixing breakfast and thought there would be nothing good to come from the broadcast.
That evening Tony and five others stole a car and drove to Oxford to find the professor and "send him to gang school," as Tony put it. Of course, Tony had no idea that the professor lived over forty miles away from the university. Tony felt at home in alleyways and found one. The manager of the shop across the street saw the gang members go in the alley and called the police. Twenty seconds later Madge and Meg walked arm-in-arm into that same alley, taking a shortcut to her building.
Halfway down the alley, the girls had walked into a trap. There were three gang members behind the girls and Tony and two others in front.
"Oi, me darlin's. Nice of you to come out to play wid Tony and his boys. I wants the redhead first," referring to Meg. "You can decide for yourselves who gets first dibs on bushy hair." Meg started to scream, but Tony saw it coming, stepped up, and backhanded her into shocked silence.
A rubbish bin lid sailed into the center of the tightening circle and the hoodlums spread out a bit, looking around. Madge's SAS chap skirted between the building and a gang member and ended up in front of Madge and right next to Meg who was whimpering on the ground.
In that quiet voice that Madge knew so well, yet with a chill in it that she could have never imagined, he said, "Why don't you boys run along and play somewhere else before one of you gets a skinned knee, or something worse."
Six clicks were heard. Six switchblades flashed in the limited light. Madge called shrilly, "Be careful, they have knives!" Panic caused the logical and rational Madge to needlessly state the obvious.
"Those aren't knives. This is a knife."
He had never let her hold his left arm. It was always his right arm he'd offered her. In that moment, a thought that had never quite made it into her full consciousness coalesced in her mind. 'He never hugs me with both arms unless we are in his apartment, and he always goes into his bedroom for a minute when we first arrive.'
Tony called to his cronies, "Get 'em, lads," and they were the last words he ever spoke.
The old sergeant had said it succinctly. "You are the bleedin' SAS. They don't call you in to mollycoddle the bad guys. You're out numbered. You're outgunned. By all rights you should all die. But you are the meanest, best-trained, best-equipped, most fearsome dealers of death on the planet. Tis sad but true, m' lads, when they send you in, the situation is grim at best. You must kill 'em all, and let God sort 'em out.
"All together, lads. One. Close with the enemy. Two. Anything's a weapon. Three. Hurt 'em to distract 'em. Four. Hurt 'em to disarm 'em. Five. Kill 'em! This is war! It's you or them!"
The gang member closest to Madge died first. He had not made a move but he held a knife within four feet of her, and SAS policy is to eliminate the nearest threats to the hostages first. The next closest gang member to a hostage was Tony, advancing near Meg. It only took a few seconds longer for Tony to be mortally wounded, also. The last recognizable look on his face was disbelief.
A third gang member was about to pierce our hero from behind. Madge screamed and her defender turned, and thus he was only grazed on the right collarbone. The blood from his wound caused Madge to scream again. The Fairbairn viciously slashed this third assailant on his knife arm. He dropped the blade and fainted - saving his life.
The fourth gang member gave Madge's boyfriend his worst wound of the encounter, a serious puncture high up in the left shoulder. The attacker was trying to stab him in the kidney area but missed because her former SAS chap was a whirling dervish in a fight. This last attacker would have a gruesome facial scar for the rest of his life. Had he not instantly dropped his knife and fallen to his knees, moaning and wailing while holding his face, he would have received a more serious scar, ensuring a closed casket.
Our hero looked like the wrath of God personified as he turned to the two remaining gang members. The Fairbairn and his hands were red from his battle and he seemed completely unfazed by his own dripping wounds. The two fled right into the arms of the constables who had finally arrived.
"Get us away from that madman," they both shouted.
Madge was about to run up and hug him when he slumped against the wall in pain. This pause gave Meg the opening she needed.
"I knew you were a killer. Two are dead and two more might die because of your bloody actions...." He was gamely trying to push himself back up after sliding halfway down the wall, but it was unnecessary.
The slap sounded like a small pistol shot. Madge roared at her former friend. "He saved you from rape and probably death, and this is how you thank him? Get out of this alley before I take his knife and kill you myself." Madge looked the part of a small avenging angel at the moment. Meg backed up quickly and turned, only to run away faster.
Madge turned back to him and asked as to his wounds. He simply said as if discussing the weather, "I've had worse. Are you all right?"
Just like him to think of her while bleeding from a number of minor scratches and two wounds needing numerous stitches. She knew now for sure that she loved this man. He had promised to make himself scarce while she and Meg walked home together. But he'd followed them in the shadows for their safety. He had risked his life and been twice wounded for her and for a woman he knew hated him. He was so kind and so honorable. She smiled. "You owe me. To return the favor of all of the tutoring I've been giving you, will you teach me to defend myself?"
He looked up at her and smiled wanly; the pain was overtaking his dwindling adrenalin surge. His answer was not an answer to that question, but it answered it nonetheless. "I love you," he said.
Her heart thrilled when she heard his words. She replied, "I love you, too."
Ted Granger had one last question for his daughter.
"Hermione, you told us that witches and wizards are physically just like us, but with magical abilities, correct?"
She nodded.
"Well then, they bleed if they're cut, and if they're shot or something, they could die, couldn't they? Or could they stop the bleeding or even death?"
Hermione gave him the look of concentration she'd inherited from her mother. He knew she was paging through her encyclopedic memory at light speed looking for as complete an answer as possible.
"When Mr. Weasley was attacked by a huge snake it slashed him badly and he was unconscious. He would have bled to death if someone hadn't gotten to him in time. Had he been awake he would have tried several possible methods to stem the blood flow. In this particular case, the snake had an agent in its venom that prevented coagulation, but under other circumstances, a witch or wizard could stop their own bleeding if they were conscious. However, if they could not speak a spell or if they did not have their wand, I believe they would bleed to death if cut badly enough. Every healing spell I know of requires a wand and a spoken spell or charm, but I suppose there may be others."
Her father then changed the subject to one where mother and daughter would become quickly engrossed. After he started the two of them discussing the next topic, he became lost in thought.
Later that night, after Hermione was asleep, Ted Granger took down his old dusty chest from his closet. They practiced their old skills. Then he and his wife made several "re-arrangements" of the house.
Hermione Granger opened the door and saw two Death Eaters on her front porch. She slammed the door shut immediately. 'They rang the door bell,' ran through her mind in amazement as she reached for her wand. At the same time, she slammed the door and turned to run, screaming to her mother.
A Reductor Curse blasted the door off its hinges and knocked Hermione down. Between the effects of the blast and the impact of the door, the explosion turned her, so that she could see the Death Eaters enter her home. The wind had been knocked out of her and she gasped for air. She blinked to remain conscious. She had two regrets in what she felt would certainly be the last moments of her life. Surprising the both had to do with Harry, and she'd have thought Ron might have been in her thoughts at such a stimes as well. First, she regretted that she would not be able to help Harry fight Voldemort. Secondly, to her amazement, she wished that she had kissed Harry, seriously, not just the almost sisterly kiss she'd given him at the train station over a year ago.
Dazed and struggling vainly to bring her wand out from under the door pinning her down, Hermione heard the start of the Killing Curse. "Avada Ke...." She also heard an odd metallic clacking sound that she thought familiar but could... not... quite... identify....
The Death Eaters in the car park were startled by their bad luck and their good luck. What did Muggles call the contraption? A 'bond'... or 'bomb,' wasn't it? Whatever the name, the Muggle explosive device went off almost five minutes after it should have. They had been waiting in the shadows in the car park. They were about to Apparate to the office to make sure the Mudblood's father was dead and cast the Dark Mark, when Ted Granger had walked out of the lift, right in front of them.
The leader of the two killers raised his wand and began the Killing Curse. He never finished, "Avada Keda-" because he was interrupted when Granger's mobile struck him in the nose. Though his nose was not broken, the impact was hard enough to cause both nostrils to bleed and to lacerate his right cheek. Tears clouded his view, but he raised his wand arm again to cast the spell.
He looked down as his hand involuntarily let go of the wand. Oddly, his wrist was bleeding profusely. Then the pain arrived at his brain. He clutched his hand and began to scream. He would be completely self-absorbed with his wrist for a few moments.
Granger made for the second Death Eater. In the few seconds it took him to move to the other attacker, he wondered if they really thought those masks were scary. At most they resembled something slightly comical out of a Hammer horror movie. To him, they looked, as the Americans might say, "Halloween-ish." However, if your victims were terrified of you before you appeared, then these clownish masks would do. The dentist also wondered if he was too stupid to be afraid or if he was in the fighting zone, that place where your mind and body automatically did what needed to be done, and you only thought about being scared afterwards. Later, he would smile ruefully at the thoughts that had visited his mind in these horrible moments.
He realized he was too far away for an identical attack as the first. He had hoped to cut this Death Eater along the wrist also. His daughter had told him that a wizard without a wand (or usable wand hand) probably could not hurt him, at least not with magic. He was working with all of the information he had and hoped it would be enough.
Clayton Nott was the younger brother of the inner circle Death Eater, Marcus Nott, and uncle to Theodore Nott, Slytherin in Hermione's year. Clayton was fascinated with the battle as it was progressing. His leader for this mission was at least temporarily incapacitated. Nott realized this was his chance to shine as a new Death Eater in the Dark Lord's service.
Clayton assumed the formal stance of a wizard duelist and raised his wand. He took a moment to adjust to the Blainfield Wand Fighting Grip. He moved his three outer fingers and thumb so they were pointed down, with his index finger pointing along the top of the shaft. This grip gave him extra accuracy in directing the precise assault spells he used so fondly.
When he looked back up, he noticed his target was closer than he'd expected him to be. That was strange. Nott had felt sure that the victim would be running away or cringing on the ground in terror. It must be that this Muggle was too ignorant to know he was about to die. Nott decided not to use any fancy spell-work. Go with the Killing Curse and be done with it.
As he opened his mouth to cast the spell, he realized his grip on his wand had loosened for some reason. By the time Nott realized that the first six inches of his wand had been cut off, along with the first two joints of his index finger, he was barely able to register that the blade that had destroyed his wand was moving swiftly towards his throat. Did this Muggle expect to kill him? Clayton Nott did not have enough time left with a functioning brain to determine what the intentions of his target had been.
Ted Granger, covered in the gory results of his actions, but physically unharmed, spun around before Nott had fallen. Now his shirt was red in back as well as the front the spray. Granger returned to the first attacker whose back was still turned to him. The gentle dentist finished his first assailant as he had the second. He dropped the body and reached down for the wand, snapping it in his hands. No wand, no wand spells. That seemed simple enough to him and he liked to be thorough.
Granger heard two quick pops and turned to see two more men in robes with wands raised, too far away to assault as he had these. At this distance, the highly trained and experienced warrior knew the odds were that he would fail in the end, but his old sergeant had always told him that the SAS was never sent in until the odds were that they would all be killed anyway. The former knife-fighting champion threw the Fairbairn with all of his might and accuracy and headed towards the wizards, hoping that they might be as incompetent in a street fight as the first two.
Harry was climbing the walls. He found himself nearly hyperventilating, his heart racing thinking about Hermione even being hurt, much less dead.
HERMIONE!
He recalled seeing her unconscious, perhaps even dead, in the Department of Mysteries. His world was almost shattered at that moment. Neville finding a pulse had kept him from giving up right then. However, he'd thought little of her in that state from moments afterwards, when Sirius went through The Veil. Now all of this came crashing down into his mind, and his anguish redoubled again.
He had to try to think logically.
The four Order of the Phoenix members had been gone less than ten minutes, and he knew, he KNEW it was too early for them to return with any information. But he also knew that they would know by now if the Grangers had already been attacked.
The more he thought about it, the more he realized that if the Grangers were all right, the four would be busy setting up wards or transferring them to a safe location or something. So he told himself that the longer he didn't hear from the four who'd just left, the better.
"AARRGGHH!!" Forget logic. All that might be so, but he could not wait without trying something. Hermione and her safety replaced all his other thoughts.
His desperation exploded into action. He pointed his wand at himself and cried. "Apparate!"
"Harry, dear, what are you doing?" asked Mrs. Figg. The concern on her face told that she knew full well what he was attempting.
"Apparato!" Harry shouted.
"Harry, please don't."
"Apparaticus!" Nothing, again. His wail of pain frightened Mrs. Figg more than his initial barging into her home. There was nothing more that she could do.
"Transfero!" "Transferindo!"
"Harry, they never say anything. They just get a far away look in their eyes and vanish." She realized that little bit of information might be enough to splinch him to death if it did not work. But this was Harry Potter - the Boy-That-Always-Lived-Through-Everything-Thrown-His-Way. He always accomplished the impossible, somehow. She lowered her gaze and stood back, and just as she raised her eyes again, she saw the most intense look of concentration she had ever seen. There occured the loudest Disapparation noise she had ever heard. It sounded as if time and space were being insulted right there in her sitting room. Harry vanished before her eyes.
Madge Granger heard her daughter scream, "Run!" and she heard the explosion of the door blowing in. Of course she did not run. Over 99% of the mothers in England would have either run to protect their children in some way or just run away. Few would have reacted as Hermione's mother reacted.
She was in the kitchen. She reached up onto the top of the refrigerator and swatted the fruit bowl and its contents onto the floor. She pulled down the oddest contrivance in the house other than some of her daughter's magical paraphernalia. Most of her wizarding devices were not as foreign to a suburban home as the MAC-10 machine pistol she expertly cradled in her arms as she ran to the living room.
The MAC-10 had been designed and manufactured by an American company. It was not very accurate except at close quarters. It was poorly balanced and the silencer, which was longer than the 10.5" gun, made the weapon even more unbalanced unless you practiced with it.
While still in dental school, Ted and Madge had married and had moved into his flat in the same questionable part of town. Even before marriage, he had bought the MAC-10, not because he liked it, but because he knew its light weight could be managed by his fiance with practice. He attached a crude wooden handle to the silencer to help with balance and control. The handle was not conducive to proper cooling for long-term firing, but that was not the issue. Everything Ted imagined they could face would be over before one clip of 32 bullets was fired.
It was illegal to own a machine pistol like the MAC-10 in England. Ted Granger, like most soldiers, had a profound respect for the law. But the former SAS member was not about to let a little thing like the law stand in the way of his family's safety. Before they were married, he took Madge out to the SAS training range. Former SAS members were allowed to use the range in off hours and he made sure she knew how to fire the gun as accurately as possible. The SAS did not condone civilians breaking the gun laws of the land, but the sergeant that managed the range had read about Granger's battle with gang members - and everyone in the SAS knew about Ted Granger.
Madge Granger did not like guns at all; they scared her. But she had known her new husband-to-be was right. She would never be able to make herself into a knife fighter - it was too gruesome, too up close and personal. The first time she fired the MAC-10 she barely kept the gun within a 90-degree arc, but after several weekend trips to the range, she was accurate enough to hit a man somewhere on his body if he was within 30 feet of her. She was deadly within ten feet.
Flashback to September of 1978 - Director's Office - Public Prosecutions Building
"Come in, Inspector, come in. You have completed the investigation, I assume?"
"Yes, sir, General, sir!" The inspector demonstrated his heritage with his crashing heels, severely straightened back, and shouted response. "Or is it Court Advocate or Prosecutor, now, sir?" "
I never read law, as you know, Inspector. Just like it is now 'Inspector,' I am Assistant Chief Executive in administration." There was no annoyance in his voice. "I suppose you could call me 'Executive,' but 'sir' will be sufficient. You have finished your investigation and that is the report?"
"Er, Yes, sir, Executive." With the slightest turn of one corner of his mouth, and with a bit of awkwardness, he took the manila folder from under his right arm and handed it to the other man.
The senior official read it quickly because there was little to read. "So, officially we have an unknown attacker with a machine pistol killing violent and murderous gang members and other such dregs of society?"
"It's all in the report, sir."
After reading the brief, the commissioner observed, "We have no idea why Tommy Peet went to that building or that particular flat. The fact that his brother, Tony Peet, died a few hundred yards away is irrelevant. While some unknown vigilante, as the Americans call them, is putting an end to Peet the Elder's latest crime spree, Ted Granger falls from a ladder while painting the walls of his and his new bride's new flat, breaking his arm, so he cannot be a suspect. The fact that Peet's bullet-riddled corpse was found in Granger's former flat is also irrelevant."
The commissioner did not look up as he finished his observations from the report. The inspector remained silent, assuming the comments were rhetorical questions if questions at all.
After several more moments of silence he said, "Excellent work, Inspector. Excellent. I am sure this will finish the matter."
The inspector crashed immediately to attention. "Sir!" He then turned to leave the office. When he reached the door, he was stopped by nine words.
"Sergeant Major, please close the door. Please be seated."
After closing the door and while returning to the chair, the inspector said quietly, "Yes, sir, General."
They stared at each other expressionlessly for several moments. Without a word, the Commissioner/General opened a drawer and drew out a bottle and two glasses. When he handed one to the other he said, "To absent comrades."
"They were the best of us, sir."
When they placed the emptied glasses back on the desk, the former general refilled them. The former sergeant major spoke unbidden, "The Grangers had removed all but his trunk from his old flat earlier that day. They had returned after midnight to retrieve it, away from prying eyes. Apparently, Peet crashed in the door, paper-thin it was, and Granger went to face him. Peet broke his arm with a pipe, the ruffian's weapon of choice, and was about to cave in his skull or some other body part when Mrs. Granger put six out of nine bullets in him from less than eight feet.
"Nice bit of shooting that, especially with a MAC-10, but then the sergeant that runs the range, he's the one that identified the gun make, said that she had improved handsomely over the previous few weekends.
"All of this is informed speculation, of course, but I believe that the young bride dragged the trunk to his former neighbor's, Mrs. Abernathy. Our Ted Granger had prevented the sixty-seven year old woman from being mugged the previous spring. Mrs. Abernathy is the one who alerted the authorities. Stated that she'd heard the sound of the breaking door, said that the sound woke her from her sleep - nearly stone deaf, she is. When I interviewed her, I noticed that she had a trunk-shaped low table covered by a braided rug in the corner with boxes, magazines, and whatnot haphazardly scattered on it and falling off. Rest of her flat was as neat as a pin.
"As the constables showed up to investigate, the Grangers made a big show of walking out, favoring his broken arm. They both had plenty of dry paint splatters on them and a few wet ones. Upon inspection of the Granger's new flat, there was all the makings of a fall from a ladder while painting."
The inspector/sergeant major finished his recitation and remained silent. Both men looked into each other's eyes for a moment. They finished their fourth glass.
The commissioner/general spoke, "Sir Cyril Philips is forming the cadres for his Royal Commission on Criminal Procedure. He has asked me to join its ranks. The Crown Protective Service he proposes will in due time eliminate the chance for such activities. Inspector, are you prepared to be incarcerated for this fallacious report, if need be? For my part in this, I will pay the price, if need be."
With the alcohol and the memories the former sergeant major's speech loosened, "Portsmouth would be a bleedin' holiday compared to the cell I would've been in if i' t'weren't for Granger. Bleeding Cong. With this," he tapped his right arm; it made an odd hollow sound, "I'd've never survived. Brought us all out... even your son, God, rest his soul."
The former general swallowed. "I never saw Granger receive the recognition he deserved. His country... we... I owe him. This is small recompense...."
"He received that medal 'cause o' you, General. Even if i' t'weren't published for all to see. He's not facin' charges 'cause o' you, sir. He'd get off, but it 'uld played bloody havoc with his schoolin'."
The general spoke with anguish in his voice. "It should have been THE medal, here in England, not just a medal off in some forgotten corner of the Commonwealth." For several long moments, they both stared at their glasses, recently refilled. The Major General/Executive said, "Tony and Tommy Peet don't have any more brothers, cousins, uncles, or anyone else that might seek revenge- do they, sergeant major?"
"No, sir." The former general stood and the former sergeant major with him. "To absent comrades," said the ramrod straight former major general.
"They were the best of us, sir. And Granger. Finest bloody, bleedin' knife fighter I've ever seen, includin' me in '42."
With a firing rate of 1600 rounds per minute, the MAC-10 would empty its thirty-two bullet clip in 1.2 seconds. The night before the attack, Ted had dry fired the gun with Madge enough to bring back her proficiency at releasing quick, controlled bursts.
As Mrs. Granger rounded the corner, she saw that Hermione was down and out of the line of fire. Everything in Mother Madge wanted to run to her daughter's side and tend to her. Warrior Madge knew that such an action would be fatal to Hermione and herself.
Madge knew the sound of the Killing Curse meant she had fractions of a second to save her daughter. The first burst of ten rounds sent three bullets into the wall and doorframe. Another two bullets flew through the doorway and out of the house to who knew where. Three bullets lodged in the chest of new Death Eater, Cyrus Pangborn - two in his lungs and one in his heart. One bullet caught him in the throat.
The Killing Curse died on his lips, unfinished.
Madge tried to conserve ammunition with the next burst. She held it to seven rounds so she would have more slugs for the second Death Eater. Because Pangborn was falling backwards, three of those seven rounds entered his cranium from under his chin. He was dead from several causes before he hit the ground.
One round from her second burst passed by the first attacker and hit the second in his left shoulder. This was Arbuthnot Pew. Pew was a very experienced Death Eater and a skilled duelist. He would not panic in battle and his reflexes were finely honed.
"Expelliarmus!" and the machine pistol went flying out of the woman's hands.
Pew had been sent to this house because it was known that the young witch would be here. He felt his experience was wasted on a student, and a Mudblood at that, but she had been trained in defense by Harry Potter. Potter had faced the Dark Lord on more than one occasion and lived. Pew had taken no chances and had sent Pangborn in first. He'd considered the young Death Eater as "expendable." However, Pangborn's suggestion of using the doorbell - an idea from the one year of Muggle Studies the lad had told no one of - had brought the young witch into easy range.
The pain in Pew's shoulder was blinding, so he raised his wand to ease his suffering. After all, the woman had not only lost her weapon, she had fallen on her face as the gun flew out of her hands. He could take a moment to relieve his agony before killing the two of them.
Big mistake.
Madge Granger's self-defense tactics were in the best tradition of the SAS. You do not have to defend yourself from someone who is dead.
She had not fallen. Madge took a flying roll to confuse her attacker and came up feet first into Pew. Her left foot hit him first, right in his face. His nose was broken and the pain in his shoulder was forgotten. Then Mrs. Granger's right foot connected powerfuly with Pew's stretched neck.
He wouldn't last long unless an emergency tracheotomy was performed. The mother lion had seen her cub attacked, and merciful first-aid was not in her plan. Madge took Pew's wand, broke it, and stabbed the sharpest end deeply through Pew's left eye socket.
Madge took a deep breath and decided she would be scandalized by her actions later. She turned and ran to Hermione's side and started to lift the heavy door off of her. Her daughter had a look of shock on her face. Hermione's sweet mother, who'd baked cookies with her, had tucked her in, and had told her bedtime stories, had just killed two Death Eaters in less than twenty seconds.
"POP. POP."
Mrs. Granger turned and saw the largest wizard she had ever seen pointing his wand at her. She realized she would probably not save her life or her daughter's, but Ted had told her to refuse to give up until several minutes after she had died. After all, by all conventional wisdom in this highly unconventional scenario, she should have died long before this.
As she launched herself towards the first wizard, it registered in the back of her mind that Hermione was shouting her name.
Thankfully, Bill Weasley turned to face Ted Granger at just the right moment. It wasn't that Mad-Eye Moody couldn't have blocked the thrown knife, but he had to see the knife to block it. Moody appeared facing in the wrong direction to see the blade coming at them.
Bill had learned a wordless wand flick charm to deal with sharp projectiles instantly hurled his way. The dangers of going into newly discovered chambers below pyramids were not limited to ancient and unknown curses. Poisonous darts were a fifteenth century B.C. Egyptian favorite.
Ted was on his way to attack the wizards by hand as soon as he'd released his knife. Bill went into a defensive posture and was about to stun him when Mad-Eye pushed Bill's wand down and lowered his own.
Moody said, "Ted. We are friends of Hermione." The familiar use of his first name, the lowered wands, and the cautious friendliness in the words from this very odd looking, older wizard stopped Granger. He assumed an attack posture right before them. They were not wearing the Death Eating clown masks.
"I am Bill Weasley. My brother Ron is a friend of Hermione's. Notice the red hair," he said as he swung his ponytail around to make the obvious even more so.
In one fluid motion, Mr. Granger stooped to grab his knife and reinserted it into his arm sheath. All of a sudden, a terrifying thought occurred to the dentist and he nearly shouted, "My family!"
"We have sent two of our best there to protect them." Moody spoke as if the subject was closed. They were walking towards the bodies but Ted was still looking at the two wizards warily.
Ted patted his hip where he kept his phone and started looking around saying, "Where's my mobile?"
Bill noticed the device and called "Accio Mobile!" Bill gingerly handed the blood covered mess to Granger who grabbed it as if nothing was different about it from any other day.
He speed dialed home and received a busy signal. The phone at his house had been disabled in the fracas. Absentmindedly he put it on his belt clip with a distant look on his face.
"Can you vanish us there or something?"
Bill looked at Moody who spoke, "It is called Apparation. Normally we would need permission to Disapparate a Muggle, but I don't care about that under these circumstances. But Granger, it's very dangerous for you. It's a 50/50 proposition that you'll be hurt in someway with only two of us trying to Apparate you there."
"Let's do it!" His desperation was obvious.
"I don't recommend it. I sent two of my best..."
In a flash that impressed the rarely impressible Mad-Eye Moody, the Fairbairn was at his throat, tip pressed at his jugular.
Moody's mad eye was whirling, and even though Granger was terrified because of that eye, he did not show it. Moody frowned for a second and then said, "I met Inspector Fairbairn once, before the war. He'd be proud of you. Put it away. You'll need the use of both hands to do this."
As Madge Granger launched herself into the air to hit the larger wizard, two things happened to lessen her vicious assault. Kingsley Shacklebolt dropped his wand and opened his hands to her. She also heard her daughter say the word "friends."
She was in the air with no way to stop, but now she did not want to hurt the man she was going to collide with. He caught her wrists and stopped their heads from butting, but their bodies thudded together. Though slightly winded, she uncoiled from his reach and headed towards her daughter.
A spell had the door flying off Hermione before her mother reached her side. Mrs. Granger hesitated for a moment and plunged down beside her.
Now that this second fight had been averted, Hermione returned to the shock of seeing, at close range, her mother efficiently and dispassionately dispatch two Death Eaters. "Mum... How did you... Where did you get that... You killed..." Hermione was badly shaken and her eyes were not exactly focused, though pointed at her mother.
"Hermione. Are you all right? Don't think about those bad men. They're never going to attack anyone again. Where are you hurt?"
"Mum. Where'd you learn to...?"
"Baby, don't worry about it. Your father was in the army. He taught me how to defend myself before you were born. I'll tell you all about it later. But we have to get you to a doctor."
Hermione stared into her mother's eyes for a few moments and then shook her head, took a deep breath, and said, "I'm really fine, Mum. I was dazed, but I have no broken bones or serious cuts, just a few minor scratches and bruises. I was merely immobilized by the door's weight."
Mrs. Granger quickly but expertly examined her daughter from head to toe, saw she was fine indeed, and gave her a big hug. The girl would have several hideous bruises on her upper arms, but bruises fade.
All during this brief examination Hermione was chattering nervously as the adrenalin of the moment faded, "Mum, you were magnificent. Where'd you get a machine gun? How'd you learn to use it? Was that Kung Fu?"
"I'll tell you about that in a minute. Gentlemen, will you watch my daughter for a moment?"
She hurried down the hall and soon they heard obvious retching sounds. They heard the water running for a bit and then she returned. Madge had a bit of toothpaste on one side of her mouth, but the bloodstains distracted the viewer from that fact.
There was a loud crack, not a pop, and everyone went into action.
Madge Granger rolled to the machine pistol and came up with it cradled in her arms. Lupin and Shacklebolt spread out with their wands drawn. Moody and Bill Weasley came out of a circle and drew their wands as well. The most startling sight was Ted Granger, still bloodied red all over most of his upper body and face. He was squatting in an attack stance, the Fairbairn was drawn, and luridly red also.
Hermione screamed and ran to her father. "You're hurt! Don't worry. I know several blood flow stemming spells and we can get you to St. Mungo's." His daughter was still in shock, to a degree, from the multiple shocks of her parents' most recent activities.
Mr. Granger looked to Moody who nodded as he lowered his wand. The knife was quickly sheathed and her father said, "This is someone else's blood. I'm not scratched, but that trip scared the he-, well, it scared me. My head's ringing like an all night drunk. Are you okay, Pumpkin? Madge?"
He saw the machine pistol and the bodies but no bullet holes were readily visible. He looked to Shacklebolt. Granger assumed Kingsley was the leader of this team because of his size. "Did she do this or did you?"
The large Auror said, "The scariest thing about this assignment was coming face-to-face with your wife before she drew back her claws." Then to Moody, he said, "I'll go back to the Ministry and send Handlers for the bodies. Can I assume I'll find the same thing only different at his office?"
"The office was blown up with no one in it." Moody related. "In the car park below the building you'll find two Death Eaters and a mess that makes him look sparkling white. We covered them with a Disillusionment Charm but you should be able to find the scene easily. Granger had killed both of the Death Eaters with his bloody great Fairbairn knife, pun intended, before we had arrived."
Kingsley nodded and was gone in a pop.
Hermione's mind was reeling with this latest report. "Daddy, how'd you kill two Death Eaters? When did you train Mummy to use a machine gun? I thought you were a medical orderly in the army." She had not called her parents "Mummy" and "Daddy" in nearly ten years.
"Not exactly, Baby. I was trained as a field medical orderly in the SAS in the army. I was trained to do more than tend wounds," he said with a rueful smile.
Moody turned in all earnestness to the family, "You have time to change but not to clean up."
There was a hugely violent loud ripping crack, not a pop, and once again weapons were drawn. At the opposite end of the living room there was a mantle over a fireplace. For a second Harry Potter was poised on that mantle, bent at the waist, wand drawn. He shouted in pain, fell off the mantle, and rolled onto the floor. Continuing the roll and coming up onto his feet, he stepped quickly to his friend.
Harry and Hermione embraced very warmly. For just one moment they looked into each other's eyes. Madge Granger noticed this, and so did Remus Lupin. The others probably did not.
Then Harry remembered why he was there, and pulled back from her. Desperately he asked, "Are you all right, Hermione?" He looked at the bodies, the blood, and the destruction and said, "Oh." Once again, he had raced to the rescue when none was needed.
Hemione, still feeling the effects of the adrenalin of the last few minutes, finally realized the means by which Harry had appeared. "Harry, how'd you Apparate here? You don't know how. You're too young." Hermione never ceased to point out to Harry what he could not do. Just because Harry had already done what she said was impossible had never stopped her.
"I just wanted to know you were okay. I've been stupid again." He lowered his head and his voice, and was about to go back into the funk he had been living in for the last few weeks.
The frantic look on Hermione's face showed that she knew not what to say to ease his pain.
"Nonsense!" Moody quietly roared. "Potter, your actions in this affair have been commendable." Then to all he said, "He forced us to act quicker than we ever would have. If there'd been Death Eater reinforcements arriving at either scene we would have been essential. No way to know, Potter, that the Grangers are death on Death Eaters. Finest bit of non-magical fighting I've ever heard of. Would be an Order of Merlin in it for you if I had anything to say about it."
Moody looked up. "Potter, are those the seat of your trousers up there in the wall? How did you Apparate here?"
Harry put his hands to the seat of his trousers. His eyes widened and he began to back away from Hermione. "Erm, I tried every Apparate-sounding word as a spell I could think of but none of them worked. I finally just closed my eyes and concentrated on this living room as hard as I could. The only picture I'd ever seen of it had been taken from the view of the mantle at Christmas time. I thought I'd appear where I was looking, not where I was looking from."
Had he arrived three inches farther back, Harry would have been seriously wounded.
At that exact moment, an owl flew through the smashed door, circled Harry, dropped a sealed parchment, and swooped out. Harry opened it but knew what it said. He read it quickly and looked even lower than he had before.
"I'm to be expelled and have my wand confiscated because I used magic once again while underage."
A second owl entered the broken door, circled Moody, and dropped him a note before exiting. He opened it and reported its content.
Mad-Eye said, "Shacklebolt intercepted the confiscation team and warned them of the Death Eater attacks and the chances of a second attack at this location. They were grateful for his "suggestion" that they were not needed here. He told them to report that Dumbledore would be by to explain everything soon. You're cleared for now, Potter, and you'll be fully pardoned soon. But it looks like you're still on Fudge's persona non grata list."
Moody cleared his throat to change the subject. "I was saying before you arrived so ceremoniously, Potter, that the Grangers need to pack and leave at once. As Shacklebolt said, more Death Eaters might still appear at any moment when this lot doesn't report back. Grangers, go pack a quick bag. You can change but not wash. You can clean up soon enough where we're going."
Madge and Hermione wanted to protest but Ted understood right away. One word from him and his family was back downstairs in less than five minutes with their essentials. In addition to some of their clothing and other personal objects, Hermione had two large book bags and her father had shouldered his dusty old chest. He was decked out in a non-descript all black outfit and was also wearing a harness waistcoat rig with a number of throwing knives attached and several bulging pockets. "More tricks of the trade," he said with a decidedly maniacal smile.
Mrs. Granger was carrying two clothing bags. She said, "What about this mess, the bodies, and the doorway?"
Lupin, Bill, and Moody pulled their wands and in ten seconds the door was repaired, the bodies were arranged on a plastic sheet, and the blood and destruction were gone.
Finally, Mr. and Mrs. Granger were amazed by an event of the day.
Moody growled once again, "You were going on holiday tomorrow so you won't be missed by neighbors, friends, or co-workers for several weeks. We'll have to watch this place to see if Voldemort does send others. There's a lot to ponder. You'll have to go to an Order hiding place temporarily - for your own safety. We may end up taking you to Hogwarts. I don't know."
All of a sudden, his normal eye brightened and his magical eye straightened in its socket. "What would you two think about teaching hand-to-hand combat, street fighting, and any other nasties to Aurors and Magical Law Enforcement Officers? I know I'd like to learn more about how you did this."
The senior Grangers looked at each other. They were a bit confused now that the excitement of the moment was draining off. They would feel completely exhausted in less than a half hour.
Moody saw their hesitation and assured them they need not reply right away. "Well, I'll have to talk to a number of people to arrange it - something that commonsensical is too practical to garner much Ministry support without a lot of effort. I'll ask you in a few days when you're rested and more settled. I'll know better then what's possible. You two are now on the top of Voldemort's Most Hated Muggles List regardless of whether he has such a list or not, so your options'll be limited." The three Grangers shared concerned looks.
Before they could begin asking questions, Remus Lupin urged that they leave.
"Professor Moody, how are we traveling to-, I mean, the place?" Harry remembered at the last second that only Dumbledore, the Order's Secret Keeper for twelve Grimmauld Place, could give out the address.
"We are going by Knight Bus." Then the old Auror continued muttering to himself loudly enough for all to hear, "Never taught a minute at Hogwarts, yet dozens of teenagers come up to me and jump right into conversations I am supposed to understand."
"Oh? One second please." Hermione ran to the kitchen and came back with a water bottle and a small medicine tin. "Motion sickness pills."
Bill cautiously walked out to the street and everyone crowded at the door.
"Wands and weapons out, ladies and gentlemen. 'Constant vigilance' I always say."
Bill raised his wand hand and the purple bus almost ran over his foot. The precarious assemblage of wands, baggage, knives, and a machine pistol scurried to the bus.
"Welcome to the Knight Bus - 'ey, thems is Muggles. You can't take Muggles on th' Knight Bus! This'un will get blood oll over..."
"Shut it, Shunpike. Get this bus headed to you-know-where, Ernie. Move it!"
"Yus sir, Mr. Moody, sir," said Ernie, and the Bus was off like a shot.
"I'll take a pill," said Mrs. Granger to her daughter. Hermione was already drinking from the water bottle to swallow her pill. Mr. Granger smiled queasily and nodded in her direction.
Stan said, "Oi. 'arry Potter. Choo know yer bum's showin'?"
Harry flipped around and blushed red enough to compete with a Weasley. "It's not my bum. I'm wearing pants."
Author's Notes
"Those aren't knives. This is a knife." - When I first wrote this I swear I thought I was being original. But then I was reminded that it is a line from the first "Crocodile Dundee" movie. Since then, I have tried to rewrite at least a dozen times. Nothing else works there. In my mind it is the perfect expression and sets the perfect tone. Credits to Paul Hogan.
Special Thanks - Besides my wonderful betas, thanks also go to Tarkas for answering a number of Britprickly questions.
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