The Witch and The Hunters

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Page count: 6

They moved with the sort of quiet purpose that comes from having done this before—only this time the stakes felt older, heavier.

"Hoods up," Hermione instructed as Harry approached.

She met him halfway, a brief hug exchanging unspoken understanding before pulling back. Harry's gaze flicked to Sam and Dean, hooded and awkward in their borrowed robes, and Hermione simply nodded.

"They refused to leave," she said quietly.

Harry raised an eyebrow but said nothing. "Their death wish," he shrugged, unconcerned.

He handed her the rolled-up blueprints she'd requested. "Gift from Kingsley."

"Thanks," she said, rolling them open and conjuring a table. "Let's see what we're dealing with."

For twenty minutes, they divided the warehouse into routes and angles: stairwells, service doors, roof access. Hermione's finger traced all entry paths, countered by Harry's adjustments while the Curse Breakers worked—slow, exact hands pulling dark, deadly wards apart. Sparks flew, runes flared and fell, and the smell of ozone threaded through the air.

Hermione took a step back, scanning the gathered Aurors. Their faces were taut with focus, eyes sharp, weapons belts checked and double-checked. The weight of the moment pressed down, heavy as iron.

"Right," she began, voice calm but firm. "We go in together. This won't be clean, it won't be easy, but I have confidence in each of you. We know who we're up against: a mix of battle-hardened Death Eaters and desperate new recruits. Experienced or not, they're dangerous, so stay sharp. Watch for grouping, and don't give them an opening."

Harry added, "If anyone wants out, now's the time. No questions, no judgment." Silence answered him. Nobody moved.

"Five teams," Hermione continued. "Four inside, one on perimeter watch. Your squadron leaders are myself, Head Auror Hermione Granger, Head Auror Harry Potter, Head Auror Charles, Deputy Head Auror Valentino and Deputy Head Auror Lance. "

She gestured to the blueprints, laid out on the table. "I take the east entrance. Harry, the south entrance. Charles, west. Valentino, north. Lance holds the perimeter. Curse Breakers finish wards—then it's go. Port-keys on standby for both Ministries and St. Helga's Hospital. Once the final ward anchor drops, Anti-apparition wards will be raised. No one leaves."

She paused, letting her gaze sweep the group. "We move fast, we move clean, and we follow the plan. Medical evac points are set. Only lethal force if there's no other option. Protect the innocents and protect each other."

The senior Curse Breaker gave a curt nod—he was ready. Others murmured confirmation of belt security and stock. Hermione felt the familiar coil of adrenaline tighten in her chest.

"On the table, you will find the name of your squadron leader. Break into your groups."

"Good luck," Harry said, low and steady. Not pep, not bravado—truth.

Hermione inhaled, letting the hum of tension and magic around her settle like armour. She glanced at Sam and Dean again. Hooded, tense, stubborn—but there, beside her.

"Positions!" Harry called. "Three... two... one—go."

The world narrowed, laser-focused, every sense alive. The moment of preparation was over. What came next would decide everything.

~000~000~000~

"I thought she was joking when she said it was going to be a blood bath," Sam muttered, ducking low behind a dented oil barrel as sparks and smoke burst around them. The warehouse shook with the force of ricocheting spells, and the air smelled of burning wood, ozone, and fear. They'd been in this fight for nearly an hour, and it was only getting worse.