Author Note: Well, you should be careful what you wish for.

Yes, like a bad bout of chlamydia, I'm back with a new story - a sequel to my recent fic The Alchemist's Cell. I genuinely did not intend to pen a sequel, but when the muse strikes I just have to answer. So to all of you who were kind enough to follow that story, this is for you. For those who thought it a good use of their time to tell me that they hoped my children get Covid and die - for stopping that story where I did - I cordially invite you to click the little 'x' in the corner and ewch i gael rhyw gyda chi'ch hun ... or words to that effect.

Summary:

Set sixth months after escaping Hogwarts, Harry and Hermione are now active members in the resistance movement struggling against the oppressive New Magical Order. With Dumbledore firmly subjugated, High Lord Voldemort hatches a plan to tighten his grip on Magical Britain, by developing a way to rip the magic from any dissenters who stand against him.

As magical war brews between international superpowers, Harry and Hermione must delve deeply into the ancient mysteries of alchemy, which may be the only protection they have against the sinister machinations of Voldemort. In an adventure that crosses continents, the power of Harmony is tested against factions of a world they never knew existed, all hunting for lost knowledge, a forgotten power of the Earth and the secret of the elusive Red Elixir.

"We should head back," Hermione urged, glancing up at the darkening sky. "They aren't coming."

Harry turned his head to frown at her. "They gave us all the money they had. They'll be here."

Despite his assertion, Harry was worried. Dobby, alert at his side, was agitated too. That was never a good sign. Bill and Fleur Weasley, lately married, flanked Harry to the right and left. The tips of their charged and ready wands flickered against the fog of the night. Bill arced his pony-tailed head in Harry's direction.

"Please ... just give it a few more minutes," he plead. "My mother will be ... emotional. She might not be moving at her best ... and her best never was that great."

"I will wait as long as we can," Harry promised. "It's not in my nature to accept a payment, then bolt at the first sign of difficulty."

"Thank you."

Bill nodded firmly at Harry. He forgot sometimes that Harry Potter was not yet seventeen, that despite becoming increasingly gnarled over the last six months, he remained infinitely noble. It was Hermione that Bill was more wary of. She was Harry's equal in everything but suspicion and ruthless caution, in which she was significantly more determined. Harry might give this as long as possible ... but that was only for as long as Hermione would permit him to.

And Harry rarely challenged Hermione's judgement on such things.

As it was, the boyfriend of Hermione Granger was quite content to defer to her logic and coolness more often than not. It had kept them alive on half-a-dozen occasions since Christmas alone. Discretion was certainly the better part of valour as far as Harry was concerned, and he was sure the twenty or so families they had smuggled to the safety of the continent would agree.

He was just anxious that Arthur and Molly Weasley would turn up and make it family number twenty-one. The Ratway hadn't failed yet, and Harry didn't want tonight to be the night when their luck finally ran out on them.

Hermione approached Harry just then, curling in tight at his shoulder, as was her way. She spoke lowly to him, her tone as grave as her expression.

"We cant wait forever, Harry. The channel tunnel wont be open for more than a few minutes. If the Weasleys aren't inside ...

"I know, I know," Harry heaved next to her. "We have to leave them to it. And don't remind me - again - about what happened with the Sprouts. I know you were going to."

"I will remind you as often as I have to," Hermione returned firmly. "If it keeps you alive, I don't care how much it hurts your pride. A meek boyfriend is far better than a dead one."

Harry snaked his arm around Hermione's waist and pulled her close. They tried not to talk about that night, that near miss. Every now and then Hermione woke in a fitful state, having relived the terror in her dreams, and Harry had to hush and soothe her back to sleep, usually at the cost of his own.

It was as close as they'd come to breaking their vow never to be parted again. And hugging like this was the only tonic to ease that shuddering horror.

Just then, two little pops pierced the still night, barely audible against the sound of the gently lapping waves of the English coastline. Harry whipped around, wand in hand, and Hermione did the same. Bill hurried past them and embraced his mother, as Arthur Weasley put down his heavy suitcase and hugged Fleur.

"You made it!" Bill hushed, his relief palpable. "We were getting worried."

"And rightly so," Arthur replied grimly. "We barely made it out."

"Out?" Harry asked, coming over. "Out of where?"

"The Ministry," Arthur explained. "I ... I had to know. About Ron. I had to see if I could find any shred of evidence about what had happened to him. But I wasn't as, er, discreet as I might have been. I was almost caught."

"And did you find anything?" Bill pushed.

Arthur shook his head sadly, but Harry shrugged that off as he stepped forwards.

"You went to the Ministry!" Harry cried. "You utter fool! Today? Of all days?"

"I had to know ..." Arthur tried to argue.

But Harry was livid. "You already know ... Ron's dead, Arthur! And if he isn't, then he's probably in such a terrible state that he wishes he was. I told you, I told you, to come straight here! You could have jeopardised our entire operation."

"He's my son, Harry!" Arthur moaned, his tone heartsick.

"Lots of people have lost sons and daughters to this, Arthur!" Harry returned bluntly. "What I'm trying to do is help make sure more aren't lost to it. And you go and waltz into the Ministry, even after I expressly told you not to go out in public. After I explicitly told you that I think we have a mole in amongst our scurrying rats. If they knew that we were helping you tonight they could have followed you, traced you here, exposed Brompton Road.

"The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, Arthur. Never forget that."

A bright flash of yellow just to their right suddenly drew all their attention. Harry watched as the now-familiar swirling mass contorted and solidified, forming a perfect circle as it snaked its way along the sandy beach. It came to a stop just in front of them. Harry was now looking along a jet black tunnel, that stretched out behind the circular portal and disappeared under the dark waves. Part of Harry wished, as it always did, that he and Hermione were the ones escaping along it this time.

But Harry was stolen from such wishful thinking as another Apparition pop echoed from the tunnel. It revealed a tall, classically beautiful witch, who looked even more glamorous where the shafts of moonlight dappled her coiffured black hair. Harry always found himself a little tongue-tied around her, until his girlfriend scowled angrily at him and Harry bounced back to Earth with a Hermione Granger-shaped thud.

"Good evening, Amelie," Harry began breezily, as the witch offered her dainty hand to be kissed. Hermione was never happy about this bit.

"Hello, Harry," Amelie Flamel replied in her dulcet French lilt. "Lets get these refugees on the way. Time is short."

Bill and Fleur ushered the Weasley parents forward towards the portal, helping stow their bags inside. As they passed Harry, Arthur stopped and turned to him.

"Harry - I hope you can forgive my indiscretion, or at least understand it. I know it was reckless but ... well, I'm sure you know. But something was going on at the Ministry, something big. You might want to look into it."

Harry frowned at this new information, but Amelie looked as if she, too, had heard this grave news.

"What is it?" Harry pressed.

"Walk with me ... both of you," Amelie nodded at Harry and Hermione, who fell into stride alongside her, as they moved away from the Weasleys saying their last goodbyes. When they were out of earshot, Amelie spoke again. "Mr Weasley is quite correct. There was an important conference taking place in London tonight. And it didn't yield good news."

"That makes a change," Hermione spat sarcastically.

"What was it this time?" Harry added.

"Macmillan Wolff, Supreme Sorcerer of the US Magical Congress, was here to meet with High Lord Voldemort, regarding the escalating troubles on this side of the Atlantic," Amelie explained. "The outcome was the reaffirming of the 'Special Relationship' between Britain and the US ... essentially, Harry, America has entered this War ... on Voldemort's side."

Harry closed his eyes heavily as the news settled on him. Hermione cried out in shock as she, too, digested it.

"Is it certain? Absolutely certain?" Harry insisted.

"It is," Amelie confirmed. "They gave a joint press-conference not an hour ago. This comes as little surprise, Harry. I know you were hoping for the Americans to have a change of heart, but let's be honest ... the ruling forces over there are equally as ruthless and committed to the elitist agenda as they are here. If not moreso."

"Perhaps ... but this really complicates things," Harry sighed deeply.

"Complicates, yes. But defeats? Not on your life," Amelie announced staunchly. "The battle lines are being drawn, Harry, but we have right on our side."

"I just hope it's enough," Harry replied lowly.

Hermione slid her arm around Harry supportively. "It will be. And we'll be ready to fight when we have to. The hall is booked, the band is playing ... now it's time to see if we can dance."

Harry leaned in and kissed Hermione full on the mouth, infinitely glad to have her by his side at these bleakest of times.

They moved back to the Weasleys and shared Amelie's news with them. Bill's low growl of anger reminded Harry just how close they were to the full moon, and stirred that sense of deep guilt within him. After all, it was Harry who had sent Bill with Remus Lupin, as emissaries to several werewolf packs, which ultimately led to Bill's injury ... and his love for very rare steaks.

"If things continue at this rate, there wont be much of a Britain left to fight for," Bill riled. "You might be coming along the Ratway yourself, Harry."

"Not until every last iota of hope has been exhausted," Harry returned firmly. "But, if I do, you can tell me what it's like."

"What? I don't understand."

"You're going, Bill," Harry insisted. "Take your wife, go with your parents. Get out of Britain. With Gringotts compromised we need someone to handle the assets of our new bank, including the money your parents gave to us to keep safe. That should be right up your alley."

"Harry, don't be daft," Bill replied. "It's dangerous here. You need good wizards, particularly now."

"You can't do any good here, Bill! I need you to go with Amelie, be of better use to her. One more wand wont make any difference in the here and now in Britain. But in Europe and Africa, where we can still find allies, one good wizard might give us a fighting chance to win this war."

Bill went to argue, then just shrugged in defeat, as he saw Hermione take up her lioness' posture at Harry's side. If both of them were in agreement, argument was pointless.

"Okay, I'll do as you ask," Bill conceded. "But what will you do?"

"The same thing I've been doing for six months," Harry growled sternly. "Keep giving Voldemort and Dumbledore as many little bloody noses as I can. If I keep at it, maybe one of them will eventually clot around their black hearts ... and we'll be rid of them for good."