Disclaimer: Not mine.

Chapter 16 - Et Milites Foedavit

Azrael was beyond glad when he was able to escape the castle on Saturday afternoon, finally ready to put the first stage of his plans in place. Tucked away in the study of Hallows Manor, he stared down at the four letters on his desk. These four letters could quite possible be the beginning of his spy network, and hopefully a way to force Britain to fight for itself.

They were written on homemade parchment, written with muggle ink meant for fountain pens that could have been bought anywhere, and layered with as many spells meant to prevent the recipient from tracking down the sender as Azrael could manage without risking setting the parchment alight. He'd also put several secrecy charms in place as well as safeguards that wouldn't allow the letter to be read by just anyone. All in all, he'd done everything he could to ensure that the information would only go to whoever was supposed to receive it and that the recipient wouldn't learn anything about Azrael from it. Even the handwriting looked nothing like his usual style.

It only made sense that Azrael take precautions regarding his own identity, especially since a thirteen year old leading a resistance would raise eyebrows and he would be contacting some really ... curious people. Clever, curious, stubborn people that didn't necessarily know when to leave well enough alone.

These first four letters were written to Augusta Longbottom, Sirius Black, Bill Weasley and Alistaire Delacour. Azrael had verified that all of them were clean in this world, though he was nowhere near finished with his research as a whole. He still had a long way to go before he knew enough about the players on the board, both politically and in terms of the Second War.

Starting with these four in particular was a tactical move on several fronts. The first, and most obvious, was their occupations and contacts; the proxy of an ancient and noble house and a feared witch in her own right, an ex-auror teacher, a goblin curse-breaker and a man with serious connections to the French Ministry of Magic was nothing to sneeze at. The second reason was that while all of them were good people, and perfectly capable of fighting if necessary with other skills that would be useful in the meanwhile, none of them possessed the tenacity, skill or means to track down the sender of the letter. It was why one reason Azrael was holding off on contacting people like Snape and Dumbledore about joining his group; Dumbledore possessed the kind of insane genius that would let him draw the parallels between the sender of this letter and Azrael Hallows.

On the other hand, three of the four he was sending letters to had never met Azrael Hallows, and the other was dense enough to not notice if Snape had been polyjuiced as James. That lessened the chances of discovery massively.

The other reason that he wasn't including with Dumbledore at this stage was that Azrael was absolutely certain Dumbledore would disapprove of his methods. His organisation did not need that kind of confidence cut-down, and he didn't want anyone to start seeing Dumbledore as an authority figure, which they undoubtedly would if he started expressing his opinions loudly when people were unsure of what they should do in any given situation. No, better to wait until his organisation was fully established before bringing Dumbledore in; that way all the hiccups and questions would already have been dealt with by the time Dumbledore was involved, and people would already know how to deal with whatever problems might arise. Dumbledore's opinion would be both unwanted and unneeded.

With a sigh and a flick of his wand the four letters on his desk shivered and disappeared. Finally done with that bit of business, Azrael picked up the letter that had been delivered by a surprisingly fierce brown owl. Recognising the handwriting on the front as Richard's, Azrael broke it open with some hesitation. All that was written was the name of some café in London with the letters A.S.A.P printed below it.

Azrael stared at the letter thoughtfully. With luck, this meant that Richard had decided to agree to his request, but he wouldn't know for sure until he went. Azrael glanced at his cloak lying across the back of a chair. He still had time before dealing with everything else on his schedule and going back to Hogwarts.

Twenty minutes and transfigured muggle clothes later, Azrael stepped through the door of the café. It was only his heavily armed state that prevented him from twitching in discomfort when an alert ward went off as he entered. Reminding himself harshly that this wasn't an ambush, he bought a Pepsi and sat at an out-of-the-way table. It didn't take five minutes for the elder wizard to arrive, and with a quick bit of spellwork, eavesdropping on the unlikely pair without their knowledge became nigh on impossible.

Azrael sipped from his drink while watching Richard surreptitiously. The lawyer seemed a little nervous, though Azrael only noticed because he was familiar with the man's mannerisms from another world and time.

"Have you reached a decision?" Azrael asked bluntly. His social skills had taken a steep nosedive, what with the years of barking out orders and the following isolation, so he honestly didn't know how else to begin. Besides which, he didn't know this Richard well enough to treat him like the friend Azrael still saw him as.

"I have." Richard said, taking a sip from his coffee to steady himself. "I'm ... tired of watching the Purebloods trample over the law. I don't want to have to turn a blind eye to the unfairness and prejudice shown to muggleborns any more. If you give me the Hallows proxy ..." The lawyer took a deep breath and looked straight at Azrael, "I will use it to fight for the spirit of the law."

Azrael regarded the man solemnly, starkly reminded of both the similarities and differences between the two versions of Richard he had known. His Richard did not have the will - the hope - to fight for anything. Just a need for closure and a wait for death. This Richard was so much more alive, and Azrael felt a pang of empathy for his friend who had lived through the deaths of his family. That Richard had lost so much, to change so drastically.

"You understand that you will have to play the pureblood games, don't you?" Azrael warned him. "You can fight for justice, but you won't win without allies. The Wizengamot is too full of purebloods who benefit from the status quo. And fighting for a lost cause will politically damage the House of Hallows."

Richard swallowed convulsively. "I understand, and I will do nothing to damage the House of Hallows. But I will use my position to work towards equality in the future - play the long game, so to speak." He shook himself a little, as if to rid himself of the dark thoughts. "Besides, we might not be so without allies as you think. The House of Hallows has been out of the political arena for a while, but I've kept in contact with the Dowager Longbottom and Cyril Greengrass. We share similar views, and they might at least consider working with us, if not as official allies then on specific bills that we agree upon."

Azrael quirked an eyebrow, surprised and amused. "That sounds fine. I'm sure you're quite capable of navigating alliances."

"I do have one condition." Richard said softly. "I want Emmalyn to know the truth."

That wasn't an unexpected development, Azrael mused. Still ... "I can't tell her anything without a confidentiality oath."

The lawyer winced, but nodded. "I expected you might say that." He admitted. "There's a lot to lose if your past gets out. But if you're willing to tell her if she agrees to take the oath, them I'm willing to be the Hallows proxy for you."

Azrael let out an almost imperceptible sigh of relief. "Thank you." With a snap of his fingers, a pile of official documents appeared on the table. (Azrael really loved house elves sometimes.) With a grin, the Hallows heir shoved the paper towards Richard. "Read and sign. You'll need to add in that bit about your wife being privy to secrets of House Hallows if she takes a confidentiality oath yourself. I'll sign it when you're done, and then we can get Dobby to witness it."

"Dobby? Your house-elf?" Richard looked surprised.

The Hallows Heir shrugged. "He's reliable, there's no law against it, and he's insanely loyal to me. It's surprisingly secure."

Richard blinked but didn't question any further, turning to the paperwork instead. Legalese, he understood. Legalese made sense, unlike other things (people) he could name.

A few hours later and everything had been read and signed. A quick order to Dobby had taken the paperwork to the Goblins to be filed, and an announcement would be made at the next Wizengamot meeting and probably in tomorrow's Daily Prophet as well. It never did take long for news to get around the Wizarding World.

"Do you mind if we go through some of the laws that you want changed and upcoming bills that are going to be a problem now?" Richard asked. "With you in Hogwarts, we might not have a chance to talk in person before the next meeting, and I'd like some idea of what I'm trying to achieve walking in. That way I should also have a chance to contact Lady Longbottom and Lord Greengrass before we begin, to see if our goals are compatible."

Azrael agreed readily, and the pair spent the next few hours going through every law that Azrael could ever remember inconveniencing him and his friends, as well as the ones that his Richard had delivered particularly scathing diatribes about. Then they discussed ways to nullify those laws or have them modified to be less devastating, as well as manipulating the political arena so some laws would never be passed. (Umbridge's foul anti-werewolf measures sprang to mind.) Eventually they had gone through everything Azrael could think off, and the younger of the two stood and stretched.

"I'm going to leave." Azrael told the older man. "I can't think of anything else that would help you, and I'm not doing much to help right now anyway."

Richard grunted, absorbed in the notes they had made. Azrael rolled his eyes. "Just remember to charm all those notes so that no-one else can read them, won't you?" After receiving another acknowledging grunt, Azrael left the café and ducked out of sight before apparating back to Hallows Manor. He had to change into some hardier clothes, and then he was going to the Shades - he had some people he needed to talk to, and he had to fulfil that favour he owed Al.

Augusta Longbottom was a practical woman, so when she saw a letter on her desk behind the near-impenetrable wards of Longbottom Manor the first thing she did was scan in for any harmful spells or curses. The wards around the manor should prevent anything charmed to harm the Longbottom family from even entering the grounds, but given the fact that they weren't supposed to let unauthorised letters on the grounds in the first place, she supposed there was cause for concern.

Curiously, her spells came up negative for anything harmful, though there was an awful lot of secrecy spells involved, both to prevent her from telling anyone about what she read and to protect the identity of the sender. It was, she noted, a lot of effort to go to if it wasn't intended to harm her somehow, though it could be that her spells simply hadn't detected whatever harm the letter was supposed to bring her.

Unfortunately, it looked like the letter would destroy itself if she tried to unravel the secrecy charms, so she had no choice but to either open it or burn it without reading. If she read it, it might have some harmful spell that she hadn't detected or she might really want to tell someone of the contents of the letter but be unable to because of the secrecy charms. On the other hand, if she didn't read the letter she might be missing out on important information that someone had gone to great lengths to give her. It could be that the secrecy charms were only for the purpose of protecting both herself and the sender, if the information was particularly sensitive.

The question was, was she willing to possibly miss vital information for the sake of not risking her life, health and wellbeing?

The answer to that was obvious, of course. Augusta was a Gryffindor in her day and if someone was trying to hurt her, she'd rather have some idea of where her enemy lay than cower in ignorance, always thinking that someone might be out to kill her or her grandson. If the information in the letter was going to help her, then she would have lost nothing.

She ignored the tingling in her fingers as the secrecy charms activated, slicing open the top of the envelope without any fuss. A single sheet of parchment - homemade, she noticed - slipped out. The writing was uniform, too much so to have been written by hand. Likely some spell had been cast to make the handwriting unremarkable, she surmised. Yet another way in which she would not be able to identify the sender of the letter. If nothing else, the Dowager Longbottom was getting the impression that whoever designed this was quite paranoid. She'd suspect Alastor Moody on principle if she didn't know that the retired Auror had no patience for games like these.

The letter read, quite simply;

Lady Longbottom,

We are contacting you in a matter regarding your family. As you know, your grandson Heir Longbottom is a target of the Dark Lord who is regrettably very much alive. There is no doubt that he will eventually regain a body with the resources at his disposal and while we are trying our hardest, it is unlikely that we will be able to end his life before his return. Our goal is to work towards the Dark Lord's final death while limiting the damage he can do in the time he has left alive to the best of our ability.

Though we understand the danger of opposing someone so ruthless, we would like to ask for your aid. Our organisation operates on strict secrecy policies, so your identity would be known to only a few of our members. This policy is in place to protect everyone should a member be tortured for the names of their fellows. You will also be given means to disguise yourself for any meetings you may be asked to attend or for any duties that may put you in the public eye. In this manner, we hope to prevent the Death Eaters from targeting our homes and families.

Be warned, however; we are not like the Order of the Phoenix. While we do believe that the Death Eaters may wish to turn from their lord, we will not spare their lives in battle because they might someday repent when the cost is the loss of innocent lives today. If you are not comfortable being part of something that will cost lives, both ours and theirs, do not join. Please know that you are under no obligation to even fight if you do not wish to, let alone kill. We will not force others to compromise their morals for the sake of fighting under our banner.

All we ask is that you try your best to aid us in the ways that you are able. You may turn down any request that we make of you if you are uncomfortable with it. You may also leave us at any time, though be warned - if you leave, we will not take you again. Once you're out, you're out.

If you are interested in joining, please tap your wand to the parchment and say, et milites foedavit. We will send you the aforementioned means of disguising yourself and the letter will activate as a portkey at an arranged time to take you to a meeting with our leader. You have our word on life and magic that you may leave the meeting at any time you chose alive, unharmed and free from mind-altering magics. Going to this meeting is not a commitment; you will not be required to join simply by going. We have no interest in forced service.

If you are not interested, simply burn the letter. If you try to show the letter to anyone or anything else, the letter will burn itself. If you try to unravel the magics on this letter, it will burn. If you wait longer than twenty-four hours to reply to this letter from the moment you opened it, the letter will burn automatically and your negative reply will be assumed.

Please know that regardless of your reply to our offer of membership, Heir Longbottom is a minor and an innocent and in no way will we stand back and allow him to come to harm - like anyone else who has not chosen to fight the Dark Lord, he is a bystander who does not deserve to fear for his life every year and we will attempt to protect him as such. Being the subject of a supposed 'prophecy' does not give anyone the right to throw him in front of a highly skilled mass-murderer and hope that the problem will deal with itself. If the Wizarding World is to be free of this plague, then we must all have a part in what is to come.

We are Et Milites Foedavit, The Soldiers Sullied, and we will stand.

Augusta let the letter slip from her fingers onto the desk while her mind whirled away, thinking through the implications of what was written there. If whoever was behind this was truly determined - and Augusta would bet that they were, if they went to so much effort to contact her - then she had no doubt that they could make waves in the Wizarding World. After all, they must be extremely skilled to slip a letter past her wards and their sensible precautions with regards to the identity of their members lent credence to the theory that this organisation was at least a little intelligent.

(She had always wondered why Albus Dumbledore didn't do more to protect the identity of his Order, especially given the Dark Lord's habit of killing off entire families when he was enraged, but Augusta Longbottom wasn't the best person to ask for an opinion on the aging Headmaster. She could admit that she didn't especially like the old man.)

Another thing about this organisation - Et Milites Foedavit, she mused - was that they were shockingly well-informed. Even setting aside the prophecy, which only a handful of people were supposed to know about, they were also aware of Dumbledore's views on killing (though that was obvious to anyone with a brain and access to old editions of the Daily Prophet) and more, Augusta suspected that the line about 'not sparing Death Eater lives in battle because they might someday repent when the cost is innocent lives today' was a dig at Dumbledore refusing to fight with anything more than Stunners and restricting his Order to the same. While the Order of the Phoenix's chosen method of fighting was fairly easy knowledge to come by, Dumbledore's 'let's give everyone a second chance even when they're actively trying to kill us and have given no sign that they regret their actions even a little bit' drivel wasn't widely known.

She would bet anything she owned that Et Milites Foedavit had a spy in the Order of the Phoenix. She almost cackled with glee; she wished she could tell the old goat that his refusal to let anyone swear secrecy oaths had backfired spectacularly. The Headmaster had felt that demanding something so absolute would only inspire resentment, despite opposition from within the Order itself.

Augusta sobered quickly. Getting one up on the old man aside, there was far too much she didn't know. Assuming they were telling the truth, then opposing Voldemort was their goal, and if their spiel about not abandoning Neville to the Dark Lord was any indication, they were pretty serious about protecting her grandson and other innocents as well as being disgusted by the actions of Wizarding society as a whole. That was good; unless they were hypocrites, that meant they had a code of honour to abide by. Less chance that they would turn around and throw her grandson to the wolves, both figurative and literal.

Frowning, she added another item to the list of things that the organisation knows about - Neville's years at Hogwarts and the repeated attempts on his life. It was looking more and more like Et Milites Foedavit had a lot of fingers in a lot of pies, because Dumbledore had done a lot to keep events at Hogwarts out of the media and the Hogwarts rumour mill made everything so garbled that a plausible series of events was almost impossible to discern from the garbage the majority of the student population sprouted.

In truth, she'd thought more than once about sending Neville to a school abroad, but only Beaubatons and Durmstrang could match up to Hogwarts (even if the standards had fallen in the ancient castle in the last few decades) and Beaubatons was an all-girls school while Durmstrang wouldn't be safe with Karkaroff as Headmaster. Besides, it wasn't so much Hogwarts that was the target as it was Neville. Moving him wouldn't make him safer. As much as it pained her to admit it, Dumbledore did at least try to protect her grandson. Granted, he failed miserably, but things could undoubtedly have turned out worse if Dumbledore hadn't been there - Neville might have died.

But these people, Et Milites Foedavit or The Soldiers Sullied, were apparently going to be more direct in protecting the Longbottom heir.

Augusta looked down at the letter, eyes picking out the emblem embossed at the bottom of the paper. A simple sword wedged point-first into a solid rock floor, with a crack running through the floor from one side of the emblem to the other. Crossing a line, she supposed, and the sword was a clear enough message.

There was really only one thing she could do, because regardless of the potential consequences to herself she would secure her grandson's safety. If these people could provide that, then she would help them. If they were lying about their allegiances, then she would pay the price.

She wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing. Taking out her wand, she tapped the parchment and spoke the passwords clearly. The letter glowed for a second before the writing that was there only a moment before was wiped away, new words etching themselves in front of her.

We are honoured that you wish to assist us. Our leader is available to meet with you at a secure location tomorrow afternoon, Sunday the 4th of September at three pm. If you are available to meet at this time, please repeat your acceptance.

Warily, Augusta tapped the parchment again, repeating the name of the organisation. More words appeared, along with a vial of small blue pills.

Repeat your acceptance at the time of the meeting, and it will activate as a portkey and transport you to the secure location we have already mentioned. The blue pills are a curious mixture of Polyjuice and a glamour charm achieved with charms and enchantment. Crush one between your teeth to activate it while concentrating on what you want your appearance to be. Unlike glamour charms it will not be dispelled with a finite incantatem, and unlike Polyjuice it lasts as long as a glamour would as well as an almost unlimited shelf life. Come to the meeting disguised, but be sure you are comfortable with your image, because you will be expected to use that image as an alternate identity whenever doing the business of Et Milites Foedavit. At the meeting you will also be given a codename to match your other identity.

Thank you for your co-operation,

Et Milites Foedavit

Augusta thoughtfully let the letter slip from her fingers and sat back in her chair, lifting the vial of blue pills up to the light and inspecting them closely. She'd never heard that someone had managed to combine the effects of glamour charms and Polyjuice - it must be something that the organisation had invented. Their resources must be truly astounding.

For the first time in a long time, she wasn't as afraid of what was coming. She had lived through the war with Grindlewald and lost her parents, then the war with Voldemort and as good as lost her son. She hadn't been looking forward to more years of wondering when she'd lose family, of watching the Ministry be run by people like Lucius Malfoy, of watching Dumbledore's Order save lives only to let Death Eaters walk free.

But these people would kill the Death Eaters without hesitation. These people were at the very least not blind followers of Dumbledore. These people were cautious and powerful with spies in many places. These people would at least be able to do something against the Dark Lord, and that was more than Augusta was used to seeing in the last war.

So I've finally finished this chapter! Sorry people, but I'm now working full time so free time is rapidly dwindling, and all I want to do on my time off is sleep.

Also, Et Milites Foedavit is a google translate baby, so no bashing when the grammar is wrong or something - I don't know Latin, and probably neither does J K Rowling.

Enjoy, Shib. :)