Disclaimer—I do not own Harry Potter, The Blacklist or any of the characters therein. Nor, sadly, do I make any moneys from the posting of this fanfiction.

Here we are another Harry Potter/Blacklist fanfiction. A two shot this time! I know! I'm a wild woman. LOL! Enjoy.

Please read and review.

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Chapter One

Hermione made her way into the Department of Mysteries and straight over to her desk, hoping that for once no one would stop her on her way to finish up what felt like the endless paperwork. And yes, for once this didn't happen. No, something else did. She was passing by the meal break room and for once the muggle television set was on and three of her team were in there watching it intently. Curious as to what might be happening, she joined them. She absently made herself some fresh coffee, as she watched what had to be the news from the BBC. But what it could be about, she didn't know.

"What's going on?" she asked, as she was adding sugar to her hot beverage as well as the cream.

Even before she took a sip of her coffee she saw the one face on the screen that had her dropping her cup. The others turned to her in shock when the mug hit the ground unheeded by the one that broke it in the first place.

"Where is this?" she asked, all business. When all of them said nothing, she snapped, "Where is this?!"

"Russia," one of them answered. "Out in the middle of the Siberian no man's land. The only reason there's cameras there was because that man…" He pointed to the man holding a gun, who was pointing to each of the people individually in front of him. "He wanted to make this a public execution of those men. He's pirating all of the BBC's satellites. This is going worldwide as we speak."

The camera stopped on Raymond and she felt her heart nearly stop. Pulling out her phone, she sped dialed the one person she could think of.

"Viktor," she breathed. "Raymond…"

"I see," he said tightly. "What do we do?"

"Get everyone together," she told him, as she walked briskly out of the break room without looking back. "We're going to get him out."

…

She gathered a team of fifteen magicals, all working for Raymond. Trouble now came with the fact that she needed to know what was going on over there—information was power after all. Was this one of his gambits? Red was notorious for them, she reasoned, but who would know outside of him? She seriously doubted that Red had anything to do with this, not with the way that man kept jabbing the gun into his ribs. Hermione would call the one person she knew worked for him and she could trust—Mr. Kaplan.

If those were her only problems that would be more than enough. They would be dealing with enough issues what with there being magical and muggle. But quick travel was going to be impossible as a group if she didn't do something as quickly as she could. And so she did the only thing she could think of—she borrowed a jet. But not just any jet and getting it proved to be rather, well, more difficult than she reasoned on. But she got it, it was working, and fueled. Next was getting pilots, again, this proved to be difficult. But as they paid them quite a bit of money each, they proved to be very cooperative.

It was while they were in transit over to New York that she made the phone call.

"Hello?" the deep contralto voice answered the phone.

"Mr. Kaplan, this is Hermione Granger. Have you seen the BBC as of yet today?"

She could hear the woman grabbing her remote and turning on her television. There was silence followed by, "Oh my god."

"Exactly," she murmured. "Do you think he planned this?"

"With Red you never know, but…" She paused as she kept watching. "I'd have to say no."

"We need to get in touch with Raymond's employees. I have some of his people with me and we can go in together. Where are you currently?"

"New York," she muttered.

"Address?"

The other woman rattled it off. "They gave the time they're going to be executing them. We have six hours—if that!"

"Make the phone calls you have to make to gather a team of Raymond's most trusted people," she told her. "The closer to where you are, the better. If they're in different locations, we'll need names and addresses when we arrive at your home."

Frowning, Mr. Kaplan asked, "Where are you calling from?"

Hermione looked around the jet and smiled. "The air. We're about ten minutes from New York. We'll be at the address given to us within the next twenty minutes."

"All right, see you then," she answered and both hung up at the same time.

As promised, they were at the given address twenty minutes later. At the location was no fewer than another fifteen people. Mr. Kaplan made the introductions on her end.

"And this…" She indicated the large man next to her. "Is Dembe."

"Lovely to meet you all," Hermione said. "Viktor, tell them what we've been able to find out so far about the location."

He nodded and went on to speak. "They're being held in the middle of the Siberian wilderness." He pulled out pictures and handed them out to everyone there. "It's a fortress built there by an old Russian crime family and recently sold to the man who was being the ringmaster, as it were, on the telecast."

They all looked at the picture of the man, reading the information next to the image.

"He goes by the name of Alexi Tolya," Hermione said this time. "If that is his name, we weren't able to find out in the time we had. But by the time we're finished tonight, chances are that it won't matter." She looked over to all of them. "Let's get to the jet and the rest will be explained in transit."

They moved like a well-oiled machine and soon enough they were at the hanger. Mr. Kaplan stopped in her tracks at the sight before her.

"That's a Concorde!" she breathed in awe. "I thought they were no longer in service."

"They aren't," Hermione answered. "We borrowed this one." Smiling she said, "And not to fear, it was gone over with a fine toothed comb first. There would be no way I'd allow anyone onto it otherwise."

Mr. Kaplan relaxed at those words, going up the stairs to the airliner.

Viktor went over to Hermione next, asking, "You never told me what you left behind to take this jet's place."

"I'll tell you later," she murmured. "Right now, we need to be well on our way."

They flew from New York to Morocco for the first leg. They paid through the nose for the fuel from a local crime family, who refused to do business with Hermione. It wasn't until Dembe and Viktor began negotiations with them did they take any real notice.

"It's the twenty-first century," she complained to Mr. Kaplan. "I don't know whether to be pissed off over this attitude or resigned to it."

That had the other woman chuckling. "My wife said the very same to me the other day."

She thought it over. "I don't usually let it get to me. Such is the way when you end up doing what you wish anyway."

They refilled and went on their way to the U.A.E. where fuel she arranged for was awaiting for them. From there they went to Siberia. Landing outside of the place where they were holding Red along with five other men, they thought it would be best to do a surveillance run to see what was going on. A small team of scouts went to check on the grounds while others did a check via a satellite they were using with Russia's permission.

"How did you get them to let us use it?" Mr. Kaplan asked Hermione as she was looking over the compound.

"They don't want any part of this business," Hermione told her. "It's a right mess. If we're willing to clean it up without them looking the worse for it, they don't care as long as they get to claim credit for taking out the bad guys." She finished with the head count and looked to her. "And they're welcome to it." She looked over to Dembe. "I counted a perimeter guard of fifteen with twenty-five in the building." She worried her lower lip. "There's a cold room. Chances are that's where they have more personnel. They're expecting a raid."

"That's what I thought as well," Dembe murmured. "What's the plan?"

"Take out the electronics," she said. "Make it look like an act of nature or a random accident. Next the exterior guards all at once. If we can get the extra guards out of the building and hit them at the same time, all the better. We can't take a chance of one of them reporting in."

Dembe nodded. "Sound reasoning. But what of when we're in?"

She smiled. "We save our dragon, of course."

Dembe and Kaplan frowned at that.

"That's a joke between Raymond and myself," she murmured. "He's the dragon."

"Then what does that make you?" Mr. Kaplan asked.

Standing up, she answered, "Me? I don't know. I have to ask him once we have him out." She walked away, leaving both of them looking after her.

"Why do I get the feeling that there's more to her than meets the eyes?" Mr. Kaplan asked Dembe.

"Probably because there is," he answered her quietly.

All of the electronics were taken out along with communications in one action. Next was the guards once the extra men from the interior of the building came running out to see what was going on. They took them out, using one of them to get into the building before taking care of him as well. Once in the building they took care of those in every other room except where Alexi Tolya was still ranting to his cameraman and wildly waving around his gun.

"I'm telling you that there's no power!" the man told him as he was attempting to get the camera to work once again. He threw it to the ground. "Nothing!"

"Then what good are you to me?" Alexi snarled.

But before the older Russian could answer, the other man was shot in the head and fell backwards. Alexi spun around to face ten men all holding automatic rifles pointing straight at him. A woman dressed in black wool and heavy jacket stepped around the men, going straight over to him. She took the gun from him.

"This show of yours is over," she said, her British tones crisp as she spoke to him. "It is as they say, television is a fickle medium. Alas, you've been canceled." Handing the gun over to Dembe by the trigger guard, she said, "Give me the keys to the restraints on the prisoners."

He snarled and spat in her face. Closing her eyes, she wiped her face off, looking at it on the glove. It was as quick as a snake that she used the heel of her hand to hit his throat. He began choking as she walked closer to him. Knowing she didn't hit him hard enough to kill him she waited for him to catch his breath.

TBC…

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Chapter one is out to you! Well, what are you waiting for? You have another chapter to read! Go! LOL! Thanks for reading and please if you could review.