"We are assured that novel methods will be adopted, and when we see the originality of malice, the ingenuity of aggression, which our enemy displays, we may certainly prepare ourselves for every kind of novel stratagem and every kind of brutal and treacherous maneuver...[But] even though large tracts of Europe and many old and famous States have fallen or may fall into the grip of the Gestapo and all the odious apparatus of Nazi rule, we shall not flag or fail. We shall go on to the end, we shall fight in France, we shall fight on the seas and oceans, we shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the air, we shall defend our Island, whatever the cost may be, we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender." --Winston Churchill, 1940
In 1944, as the Ardennes offensive (Operation Luttich) was stalling, Adolf Hitler made a desperate appeal to Gellert Grindelwald to support him openly. Hitler and Grindelwald had been in contact since the mid-1930s, each seeking to cement his position. Dismissing Hitler's claims as only more German propaganda about Aryan superiority, no one realized at first what he knew and what he meant.
In our world, Grindelwald refused; in this one, he agreed. The Allied response was slow. It took too long to belive that the enemy could really do magic, too long to formulate a response, too long to organize the wizards of Britain and the United States to openly and actively fight, when all any of them had done was quietly aid the anti-aircraft barrages with well-aimed Reductor Curses. The Allied armies were driven back to the Atlantic in disarray; a second evacuation from Dunkirk was only partially successful, and close to forty percent of the Allied forces in France were captured. Desperate, Dumbledore went forth to duel Grindelwald, hurried and unprepared, lost, and barely escaped with his life.
Operation Sea Lion was carried out in 1945, as the US was winning the Pacific war. It was Rattenkrieg all over again; battles were fought from street to street in the burning ruins of Greater London. But at long last, with most of the city nothing more than a huge heap of rubble, Britain held. Landings further north failed as well, and by February 1946, there were no German forces still operational in Britain. The United States, which had been furiously producing atomic bombs, and the Reich, which had made its first, were in a standoff. Peace negotiations began, and the 1947 Treaty of Manchester recognized Germany's conquests in Europe in exchange for no further interference with Britain, Sweden, Switzerland, or Ireland.
In 1948, Grindelwald and his supporters killed Hitler and his staff in a lightning coup. Grindelwald proclaimed himself Fuhrer, making Muggles second-class citizens, and declared the Greater Wizarding Reich.
Gryffindor Squad D (generally known as the Marauders) scrambled rapidly toward cover behind the first line of Slytherin sandbags. Several Stunned Slytherins were lying in the grass in and around them.
"James, check for mines. Sirius, watch for activity behind that rubble. I will try to contact B and C and determine what's happening. Peter, uh...conjure some water and fill everyone's canteen." Remus Lupin's ferocious stare made him look as though about to transform as he quickly scanned the area, then dropped to one knee and began muttering incantations.
"Right, Moony, mines," James said casually, sweeping his wand over the ground. "Wouldn't be surprised if Snivelly left a trap for us."
"You're not taking this seriously, James," Remus said, almost coldly. "You never do."
"Relax, mate," Sirius drawled, nonetheless scanning intently.
"And what do we do when it's the real thing, then?" Remus demanded.
"Well, with your luck, Moony," James said, "they'll attack on a full moon and you'll be in the Shrieking Shack."
"I think, well, then, wouldn't he be able to, er, hurt them if they came in?" Wormtail said, still trying to conjure water; he had about half a canteen's worth so far.
"That's not funny," said Lupin. "Ah, yes, here we are. B squad, do you read? Yes, Lupin here, where are you and what's your status?"
"Evans here," came a faint, tinny voice from the wand. "Lupin, the Slytherins counterattacked through the woods on the left, I lost two. We've fallen back to the house."
James stopped his mine-sweeping abruptly. He turned and leaned down by Lupin's wand.
"Well, Evans, I think we can come ASSIST you," he said in what he clearly thought was a deep, reassuring tone.
"We can not," Lupin said, pulling his wand away from James. "Roger your status, Evans. We have cleared the Slytherin forward positions. No sign of any other Slytherins. We are in a good position to capture the objective."
"Give it up, Prongs," Sirius put in. "I don't know why you keep mooning over her anyway, mate."
"It's meant to be, Sirius," James answered. "Even if we'd...won the war, or lost it completely, I would have fallen in love with Lily. It's not something that can change."
"In both of those scenarios, like this one, I still wouldn't take James over the giant squid," said Lily over the wand link.
"Oh, Lily, you don't mean - "
James and Lupin, without realizing it, had both stood up in the course of their argument. A Stunner whizzed to the left of James' head, and he cursed and dove to the ground. The other Marauders followed him rapidly.
"No, I certainly do not!" Lily said indignantly, hearing James swear. "What kind of girl do you think - "
Lupin raised his wand and began firing back. "Get behind the sandbags, now, move!" he yelled, then resumed shouting "Stupefy". Peter scuttled toward the sandbags, only to drop his wand and have to dive back toward it. The other three Marauders flung themselves behind the sandbags -- which James had never finished checking for mines. A flash of red light was the last thing they saw.
"Ghhhghnnh."
"James Potter revived," a voice said.
"Check," Madam Pomfrey, sounding annoyed as ever about the war games, answered. "Next?"
James, fairly accustomed to this by now, waited a few seconds till his head was in order, then stood up in one fluid motion and began quickly walking away. He was supposed to be checked for various things, but he didn't feel like hanging around here any longer.
Two policemen were walking their beats on a quiet Manchester street.
"Good weather, eh?" one said.
"Better than most," answered the other.
Two men came around the corner at the other end of the block. It was hard to see anything in the dark; there had been another alert, something about increased Reich communications traffic, and cities were on blackout. The coppers squinted at them as they drew nearer; one fumbled around his belt until he found his flashlight, pulled it out, and switched it on. The light shone right into the face of one of the two men, who rapidly averted his eyes.
"Sorry about that, my good chap," the policeman with the flashlight said.
"Quite all right," the other man muttered, still not looking toward the policemen. The first policeman had only seen the man's face for a moment, but he thought he had seen him before...they had passed each other by a few steps when he remembered. He had seen that face on a wanted poster for a Todessen.
"Oi! You! Stop!"
A jet of green light hit the first policeman, a man by the name of Nathan Smith, and he fell dead. His partner, Jacob Fisher, swore and dove behind a car parked on the side of the road as a second Killing Curse flew wide of him. Patrolman Fisher yanked his radio out of its holster and began yelling into it.
"Officer down, I'm under fire! I need backup right bloody now! Two probable Todessen, just south of Central Manchester AMB two, I need --"
A curse hit the car, blasting the roof apart. Flames and bits of glowing metal flew in all directions. Fisher ripped his gun out of its holster and started firing wildly in the direction the curses had come from.
Several bullets ricocheted off something, but he had no way to tell whether he was hitting anything.
Another curse hit the car and sliced into the gas tank, which exploded. Flaming metal tore through Fisher and killed him instantly. His last thought had been of whether reinforcements would arrive in time to catch them.
Perhaps they would; the alarm had been raised. A Home Guard squad and more police were running or driving rapidly towards the scene, and several wizard Air Guards were snatching up brooms and soaring toward the explosion. The two Todessen dashed away down the street.
"Damnit, Mulciber, why d'you always foul everything up?" one of them snapped to the other in between gasps for breath.
"Stop right there!" someone yelled behind them. Mulciber fired a curse randomly over his shoulder and something exploded behind him. Gunfire rang out from the other end of the street, but they had reached their destination, diving one after the other into an alleyway. They lit their wands, searching the ground and yelling at each other. The sounds of whistles and running feet filled the air.
"Found it!" Withers shouted. He snatched up an empty soda can from the pavement. Mulciber seized his arm, and they both vanished a few seconds later as Withers' touch activated the Portkey.
"Freeze!" shouted the sergeant as five policemen rounded the corner, guns with SCP (Shield Charm Penetration) rounds at the ready. "Damnit, where the bloody hell'd they go?"
A search turned up nothing. When a wizard arrived, he was able to confirm that they had taken a Portkey out.
The door to number 4 Privet Drive crashed open. Mr. Vernon Dursley burst out, shouting furiously at the RAF lieutenant. "I don't care about missile defence!" he bellowed. "This is our house!"
"Sir, this entire street is being appropriated for the installation of ICBM slash IRBM defence rockets. We need a system to cover this area, and since urban areas most need to be defended, that is where the installation is to be made." The RAF lieutenant took a long breath. "This is legal under the Appropriations Act 1953, suspending the relevant compensatory provisions of the Magna Carta. You and your family will remove yourselves and your property from the premises immediately, or all of you eligible for service will be automatically drafted. We can provide carpet transportation for your property as requested, and compensation will be paid as soon as the present crisis is over."
"Do you know who I am?" Vernon bellowed. "I am the director of Grunnings, a very important firm! Numerous contracts with the War Office!"
"Yes, sir, and from what I have heard, you were accused of attempting to bribe an appropriations officer."
"Let's go, Vernon," said Petunia, coming out of the house behind him. "You can only make it worse."
"She's quite right, you need to leave as quickly as possible," the lieutenant added. "There have been more Todessen attacks and my company is needed for patrol."
Vernon swelled like a balloon being inflated. The lieutenant sighed. He suspected this would be a long day.
The sun was setting by the time they got the Dursleys' things loaded onto four flying carpets and the Dursleys headed for the temporary housing the government provided in such cases. The lieutenant was exhausted. He and his men had spent several hours very carefully detaching apparently very valuable tile and paneling from the house prior to its demolition. The wizards in his company could have done this in about ten minutes, but Mr. Dursley insisted that magic would damage it and that it had to be very carefully removed by hand. Then he had a long argument with Mrs. Dursley about their son, who Mrs. Dursley maintained could not handle the "difficulties" of transportation out of here. As soon as that was resolved, the son in question had leaned over and poked the lieutenant in the eye.
"Glad to be shot of them, yes, Sergeant?" the lieutenant said as he watched the Dursleys fly away.
"Aye, right gits, they were," the man answered. "It's those kinder people that make things a good bit easier fer the Gerries. Don't we need ter be gettin' under way?"
"I will give the men five minutes...and then we need to move. No one's been covering the Godric's Hollow sector since this time last night. The last time that happened, the Germans slipped in a bunch of spies, and we still have not caught the lot of them."
There was a sudden crack as someone Apparated in at the end of the street. The lieutenant dropped one hand to his holster; the light was failing and it was difficult to see. Others raised their guns and wands. "Who goes there?" the lieutenant called.
"I am Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore," said a calm, sad-sounding voice from the other end of the street. "What are you doing here?"
The lieutenant did not lower his guard. "Advance and be recognized!" he shouted.
After confirming his identity, the lieutenant hurried over. "What brings you here?"
"Have you not heard the news?"
"No sir, we have been removing the resident of that house since noon," the lieutenant answered. "What happened?"
"The Todessen - we believe Voldemort himself - attacked a family in Godric's Hollow. They were personal friends of mine, and they are dead." The lieutenant didn't generally swear, but he had to bite his tongue to avoid doing it loudly. "Yet, and perhaps more importantly in the grand scheme, Voldemort himself appears to be dead or at least seriously weakened. Their son survived, and I came here to place him in the care of his relatives. But you said that they had been removed?"
"We...we just removed them, sir. The quarters we prepared for them, er, are not...are no good for two young children, sir."
"Here ye are, sir," said one of the men, handing the lieutenant a wireless. He automatically checked the anti-magic shield, confirmed it was intact, and switched it on.
"Again, we have unconfirmed reports that despite the death of both of his parents, for unknown reasons, Harry Potter survived. We are not permitted to provide more information at this time, and the War Office has declined further comment. The reason the sector was not patrolled remains unclear, but I can tell our listeners that it may have been an administrative error."
The announcer continued, but the lieutenant wasn't listening. He covered his face with his hands. "I'm going to be a buck private again faster than a V-5 can fly," he groaned. "Why did this have to happen to me?"
"I will handle your case," Dumbledore replied. "As far as I can tell, you are not responsible for what happened. But I hope that you understand my dilemma. I had hoped to give Harry here a normal life for at least a few years. Despite our best efforts, there are still many Reich agents in Britain, and Harry would not be safe if it were widely known where he was. Not to mention, imagine, if you would, being famous for something you couldn't even remember, which involved the death of both of your parents. My plan was for no one except his relatives to be told who he was."
The lieutenant nodded. "Well, Mr. Dumbledore, I do not know what else to do," he said.
"I contacted the War Office," Dumbledore explained, "and told them to report that Harry had also died. But that solves nothing unless we can find a place for him. Do you think we could make arrangements for Harry's relatives to be moved to quarters appropriate for him also?"
"Mr. Dumbledore," he said, "with all due respect, I would not recommend that he be placed with them. If...well, perhaps I could..."
"Are you suggesting," Dumbledore said, "that you and your wife would be willing to care for him for the time until other arrangements can be made? Obviously, this is quite out of order, but then so are the times we live in."
"It would be an honor, Mr. Dumbledore."
"Your name?"
"Lieutenant Henry Granger, sir. I was a dentist before being drafted, still do that now and again when it's needed in fact."
"Do you have any other children?"
"A daughter of the same age. It would be difficult for us, Mr. Dumbledore, and I would have to consult my wife of course, but considering the danger this boy is in...I mean, we all have to 'Keep Calm and Carry On', right? Do our bits?"
"What are your accommodations?"
"One of the off-base houses for married personnel, Mr. Dumbledore."
"If you will provide the address, I can Apparate us there."
A few hours later, everything had been settled. Mrs. Granger had protested violently at first, but had come around when the importance of this boy, the peril he was in, and the hopefully temporary nature of this had been explained. Harry was still asleep, now in a new crib Dumbledore had summoned. Across from him was the girl he would come to know as a sister: Hermione Jean Granger.
Island Fortress by William Brennan
Story Notes:
I was going to keep going with this, but I'm not sure where to go with it, and have, you know, real life to deal with. If anyone wants to steal this, go ahead, as long as you finish it.
Chapter Notes: The violence warning is not really this chapter, but if the cold war ever turns hot.