Chapter 3: Meetings and Attacks

The sun slowly peeked over the horizon and the ocean glittered beautifully as light first struck the island fortress of Azkaban. Mist and fog was swept away under the warm breezes that accompanied the sunrise and seagulls cried out as they woke from their sleep, eager for their breakfast meal. On the top floor of Azkaban Fortress, Harry Potter stared out of the window, idly watching two birds fight over a small fish, their war cries echoing around the stonewalls of the former prison. Behind him lay a long elaborately carved table made of thick oak. Seated around the table was the Council of the Order of Phoenix. Harry turned around and gave a brief smile to his friends as he walked away from the window and took the comfortable armchair at the head of the table.

"Good morning everybody," Harry greeted, his eyes flicking over his friends faces.

On his right sat Ronald Weasley, the Head of the Military Affairs. He had changed a lot from his Hogwarts days. His face had been heavily battered during the fights against the Death Eaters and large scars had been ripped into his cheeks and chin. A large portion of his ear was missing and his brown eyes, which had once been bright and optimistic, were reserved and hard. His ginger hair was scattered with grey and his face was beginning to show the faint signs of wrinkles, which was an uncommon thing to happen to a wizard considered to be entering his prime. Ron had once been an Auror, much like Harry, and was feared throughout Britain as being a Harry's second in command.

On Harry's left sat Ginny Weasley. Like her brother, Ginny had also once been an Auror. However, when Voldemort had invaded the Ministry, Ginny had been wounded horribly and was maimed for life. Her left arm had been completely blown off and had been replaced with a magical prosthetic, which allowed her to perform tasks with both hands. She walked with a terrible limp using a cane. Her face still had a scattering of freckles but a large burn covered her left cheek and she had been blinded in one of her eyes. Despite her injuries, she was considered to be the resident expert in potion making and spent most of her days using the limited supplies to create Healing Potions, Skele-Grow and various other potions that were useful to the Order.

Sitting next to Ron was Hermione Weasley, wife to Ron for twenty-seven years. Hermione was not physically crippled in any visible way, her face bore no scars, her hair was still bushy and thick, her cinnamon eyes still sparkled for knowledge, but she carried something that to her, was much worse than any disfigurement. Fifteen years ago, Hermione had been struck in the abdomen with a very nasty ripping curse, which has sliced into her internal organs. While the Healer's had been able to save her life, they were unable to repair all of the damage. Hermione had been six weeks pregnant at the time and the spell not only killed the unborn child but also crippled her ability to have more children. She would never have any more children. Her only daughter, Audi Weasley, was considered a blessing. Hermione was Head of Educational Affairs and spent most of her days teaching with the gentle affection she would have dearly bestowed on her second child.

Sitting next to Ginny was Luna Lovegood, who was Chief Healer of the Azkaban Medical Wing. Her long blonde hair was woven in an intricate mixture of braids and tresses and her blue eyes stared languorously into the distance, entering a world that was far away from the pain and injustice of her own. Luna was not married and was responsible for all medical matters of Azkaban.

On Luna's left, Neville Longbottom lounged in his seat. The once plump boy had physically remained quite similar with a large figure and a healthy tan. His eyes shone with gentle warmth and his hands were calloused and dirty. He wore old shabby robes with flaky mud in spread about in various patches. Neville was Head of Agricultural Matters, a department that was solely responsible for the food supply of every single person that lived on the island. There were two large greenhouses on the back of the island that had been magically expanded to double their size. Inside these greenhouses, corn and wheat and various other plants were magically grown within a week, harvested and distributed amongst the population. Neville was also responsible for the fishing production and on average, hauled in half a ton of fish every week. Fish, vegetables and fruit was pretty much all there was to eat on Azkaban.

"First, weekly reports everybody," Harry said and clasped his hands together as Ron cleared his throat gruffly, shuffling a several pieces of parchment in front of him. He glanced down for a few seconds before addressing the entire room.

"Right now, the Order of Phoenix has One hundred and eleven capable fighters," He said. "Eighty six of these fighters have been allocated to the DAI, Defence of Azkaban Island, while twenty five have been allocated the five five-man raiding parties. I've introduced a new training regime to increase the standard of proficiency and improve duelling skills. At the moment, there is one raiding party out of Azkaban… causing some trouble down in Essex on a Ministry Warehouse… just standard intimidation work."

"Thankyou Ron," Harry said as Ron sat down and his wife, Hermione stood up.

"At the present moment, Azkaban holds fifty three Muggleborn students below the age of seventeen. Nine of these students are only starting to enter the first stages of their education. There are currently four of them qualified Professor's instructing them in various fields, but focussing on Defence Against the Dark Arts, Charms and Transfiguration. I expect that in a month, eleven students will have… graduated. Of these eleven, three have expressed an interest in joining the DAI; two are interested in the agriculture department, one is seeking to become Ginny's Apprentice and five want to leave Azkaban to be with their families in whatever country we relocated them to." Hermione lectured, seemingly without taking a breath. Harry stared at her with amusement and she flushed slightly as she sat down.

"We…" Ginny started, as she stood up, her voice raspy and weak, before breaking off into a cough. Reaching into her dark robes, she pulled out a small vial of orange potion and popped open the top, downing it all in one go. She shook her head and tucked the empty vial back into her robes before continuing again. "We have a fairly decent supply of the general Healing potions. We only have seven advanced Healing Potions but I can have another four done by the end of the week. Our Polyjuice is running low as is our Veritaserum, but I started a batch two weeks ago and expect it to be finished soon. There is still a tiny amount of Felix Felicis left, but some of the Raiders are beginning to show the side effects. Some of them are having trouble what is humanly possible and what is not."

"Discontinue the use of Felix Felicis on anybody who has had more than three doses of it," Harry ordered. "And flush the systems of those who are experiencing the side effects. We don't need a Raider to suddenly decide that they would be able to take on Voldemort and getting themselves captured."

Ginny nodded and sat back down.

"Our hospital is clean," Luna said and smiled inanely at Harry¸ who nodded his head solemnly.

"That's good to know Luna," He said. "Anything else?"

Luna paused and looked thoughtful, her eyes peering upwards as if she was reading the back of her brain. "That's all," She finally said. "My hospital is clean,"

"Neville?" Harry asked the suntanned man, who as smiling at Luna's larking about.

"The current population of Azkaban Island is two hundred and twenty three… two hundred and twenty four if we include the new arrival, a Phillip Trentworthy. So far we've been able to grow enough food to keep everybody happy and supply our warehouses with enough food to last a month. We're good in grain, but our fishing is getting poor results. When are we shifting the island?" Neville asked.

"In about a week or so," Harry answered.

Neville nodded, satisfied. "Let's just hope we pick a good fishing supply this time," He said and sat back down.

"This meeting has been called because I've just received a report from a trustworthy source that indicates that Bellatrix will be amusing her Death Eater's at Morsmordre in two days time. The main entertainment will be the imprisoned Muggleborns." Harry said seriously, his emerald eyes darkening in anger. "This is something that I would prefer to prevent."

"We're going to attack Morsmordre?" Ron asked, frowning heavily as he considered the options. "It's a very well-defended complex, we could need at all of the Raiders for this. Even then it might not be enough"

"Only two teams will be going," Harry replied, leaning back in his chair. "I can't risk all of our competent fighters on one attack."

"Two teams?" Ron asked in disbelief. "Harry, with two teams I can guarantee that there will be casualties."

"With five teams, I can guarantee that there will be a hell of a lot more casualties," Harry said calmly. "Like you said, the complex is well-defended and I don't think we would be able to break into it."

"So what are we going to do?" Neville asked, frowning in puzzlement.

Harry lips curved into a smile and as he opened his mouth, the large set of double-doors opened at the end and a DAI guard dressed in a well-polished ebony dragonhide jacket entered, escorting Phillip Trentworthy, whose hands were shaking.

"Ah Phillip!" Harry called out joyously, a smile suddenly appearing on his serious face. "Come and join us!"

Phillip looked apprehensive and turned to glance at the doors behind him longingly, before the guard walked out and they slammed shut with a resounding bang. He gulped and slowly walked forward, taking the only available seat next to Hermione, who smiled nicely at him.

"Phillip, we were just talking about Morsmordre," Harry explained to the ratty-looking man with a smile on his face. "I believe you used to be a guard there."

"Yeah, that was where I worked, for both the Ministry and you, until I was captured." Phillip answered nervously.

"Phillip," Harry's smile disappeared and he leaned forward, his palms flat on the table. "I have just received some horrible news by an associate of mine. Bellatrix Lestrange is planning on murdering the Muggleborn children housed in Morsmordre."

"That is horrible news," Phillip agreed, his voice tinged with disgust.

"Ron and I were just discussing an attack plan, but we both know that it would be useless to attack the prison outright. It's well too guarded and defended." Harry said gravely.

Phillip nodded in agreement before he caught the speculative look Ron was giving him and it dawned onto him and he jumped from his seat, wringing his hands.

"Oh no!" He cried out. "I'm not going back to that place again!"

"Phillip, we don't want you to." Harry said relaxingly, standing up and walking around the table to stand next to him. He laid a comforting hand on Phillips back and rubbed it soothingly as he continued to talk in a calm and reasonable tone. "If you could just work with us for a few hours today, then we would be able to use your information to infiltrate the prison complex without so much as a shouted curse."

"You just want information?" Phillip asked in a small voice, looking dreadfully afraid. "But what if I get it wrong? Merlin, I could lead people to their deaths!"

Harry smiled comfortingly. "That's why I want your permission to allow Luna here, our expert in medical matters, to extract the memories from you. We will be able to study them ourselves and decide what to do without the chance that you may be wrong."

Phillip looked at Luna, who smiled serenely at Phillip and looked so innocent that he couldn't help but relax. "W-Will it hurt?" He asked softly, cringing at the thought of pain.

Harry's face turned sympathetic and he nodded. "I'm afraid so. If we want reliable information, we need it to be as accurate as possible. The slightest detail might be the difference between life and death. Don't worry; Luna will be able to give you a sedative that can block most of the pain."

Phillip sighed, looking forlorn, but nodded his head slowly. Harry smiled gratefully at the man and turned to Luna.

"Luna, could you please lead Phillip to the finest hospital bed in Azkaban and give him the strongest sedative we have available?" He asked politely.

Luna smiled softly and stood. She placed a pale fragile hand on Phillip's arm and gracefully led him away, opening the doors with a short wave of her wand. Phillip followed her and looked over his shoulder. Harry beamed at him in happiness and thankfulness and Phillip blushed, before turning his head to the front and leaving the room. The doors closed with a bang and Harry's smile disappeared.

"Ron, I want your team of analysts to go over Phillip's memories as soon as we have them. Also, tell the 1st and 3rd raiders to prepare themselves for an afternoon raid. I want to strike fast and hard and drive as many Auror's from Morsmordre as I can." Harry ordered quickly. "Ginny, I want the remainder of the Felix Felicis to be split up into ten different portions and be bottled and ready by this afternoon. Hermione, I read your request for wands for the Muggleborn students. Get their magical signatures and send it to the 4th Raiders. We'll pick them up later."

Ron nodded and saluted Harry briefly, before quickly striding from the room, a smile of expectation on his face. Hermione nodded and gathered her notes and walking away, while Ginny frowned.

"Should I prepare a new batch of Healing Potions as well?" She asked in a raspy voice. "It sounds like you'll be busy this afternoon."

"If you have time you can, but I think we'll be fine." Harry said and Ginny nodded, limping from the room.

"That was very manipulative, what you did Phillip," Neville said, a slight reproachful.

"Neville, Phillip is a coward who dreams of being brave," Harry said bluntly. "I wasn't going to waste an entire afternoon trying to convince him to help us."

Neville nodded, but he didn't look too pleased as he left the room, leaving Harry standing next to the oak table by himself, his green eyes unfocussed and his mind whirling as he plotted this afternoon's raids.

Diagon Alley had barely changed in forty years. Robed wizards and witches walked along chatting quietly while children darted between their legs, pressing their noses against the windows of the shops. The Leaky Cauldron was still the entrance point to Diagon Alley from Muggle London, but was largely unused and abandoned since the Fall of the Ministry. Inside, a group of six Auror's sat around one of the dusty tables, empty shot glasses and cards and chips scattered in front of them. One of the Auror's was smoking a long pipe, which emitted vaporous clouds of green smoke that smelt like a pair of used socks.

"I got… nothing," One of the Auror's said in disgust, a brown-haired man with a small beard.

"Ha! I win again!" Crowed another Auror, a dark-eyed man with short cropped blonde hair. "Chips come here!" He ordered, and the chips sprang from the table as they hopped towards him.

The other Auror's grumbled in good-natured disgust while the winner smirked and waved his wand. The cards shot off the table and zoomed into the air widely, swivelling and swerving to avoid each other as they assembled themselves into a freshly sorted deck, before gently floating down to rest in the winner's hands.

"Another game anybody?" He offered, just as the door that led to the Muggle world opened. Instantly Auror's shot to their feets, their hands diving into their robes as they pulled out their wands and levelled it at the intruder.

It was an old woman, short and squat, with a large boil on her nose. She was dressed in black robes and limped forward, a slender cane in her hand. She grunted every time her bad foot hit the ground and wheezed through blocked nostrils loudly.

"Halt!" One of the more zealous Auror's shouted.

"Shut up Moon," The blonde Auror said in annoyance as he put his wand back into his robes. He walked forward, kneeling down so he could face the old woman in the eye. "Madam, I'm going to need some identification?" He asked gently.

The old woman frowned and raised her head, her beady eyes squinting past the Auror's face. "Who said that?" She asked in a screeching high-pitched voice. "Whose there? I'll have you know that my Johnny is a Death Eater for the Dark Lord! If you lay a single hand on me he'll hunt you down!"

"Ma'am, I am an Auror," The blonde Auror said a bit more loudly. "I need some proof of identification if I am to let you pass!"

"Give it up, she's blind and deaf as a bat!" One of his fellows jeered.

"Who said that?" The old woman demanded loudly, swinging her head around. "I'll give you a spanking you'll never forget!"

The other Auror's laughed widely as their fellow flushed and returned to their game as the blonde Auror sighed in resignation.

"Ma'am, do you have a wand?" He asked slowly and loudly.

"Of course I do, I'm a witch, aren't I?" The old crone snapped angrily. She fumbled within her robes and pulled out a battered piece of wood. She waved it proudly, cackling in delight as golden sparks flew from the tip in a shower that illuminated the room.

"Ma'am, I need the wand to assertion your identity," The Auror said, reaching for the piece of wood. The old woman gave a panicked cry and took a step backwards, her cane flying up to slap against the man's hand, who withdrew it quickly with a cry of pain.

The other Auror's laughed at this, one of them spraying out a mouthful of alcohol as his face turned red. The blonde Auror flushed under the stares of his comrades and great angry.

"Who are you?" He demanded loudly to the old woman.

"You want my name? Well, why didn't you say so?" The crone exclaimed and with a flourish of her wand, blasted the Auror back with a bolt of orange-coiled magic. The Auror flew through the air before slamming into a wall and crumpling to the ground, while the other Auror's jumped from their seats, taken completely by surprise.

" Stupefy!" Somebody muttered quietly and one of the Auror's fell to a crimson ray of light in the back. Several Auror's swung around while the crone dropped her cane and sprinted forward, jumping through the air with her wand outstretched. A flare of magic burst from the tip of the wand just as the crone jumped behind the old bar, and an Auror have a muffled scream as he was lifted up and crashed into the rood, before falling down and thumping onto the ground.

" Stupefy!" Somebody else also muttered quietly, a different voice from the first invisible attacker. Another Auror fell in a blast of crimson magic while the other three flicked their wands sharply. Piercing blasts of magic tore through the walls, tables, chairs and floors. The building gave an ominous croak while the Auror's threw curses around. Magic tingled in the air, sparks cackling madly in the atmosphere of so much magic, while the bar exploded in a flurry of wooden shards as a well-directed curse tore through it. After twenty seconds of continuous cursing, the Auror's stopped.

They were all breathing heavily, sweat beading down their foreheads. They cautiously turned their heads, their eyes wide with fear but focussed with determination. One of the Auror's slowly stepped forward, his wand gripped firmly in his hand, and peered over the shattered remains of the bar. Amidst the broken bottles and shattered glasses lay a single torn robe.

"Well?" One of his fellows hissed anxiously.

"There's nobody here!" The other Auror hissed back, his eyes darting around nervously. Suddenly there was a tiny scuffling noise above him, and he frowned and titled his head upwards. Light blinded his eyes and a pulsing bolt of searing heat struck him on the forehead. He screamed in pain as he was forcefully pushed into the ground, his legs giving way under the enormous amount of pressure of the curse.

" Stupefy!" One tiny whisper muttered. From another section of the rood, a blast of crimson light rocketed towards the other two Auror's, who flicked their wands sharply. The stunning hex struck a newly formed globe of shimmering magic and exploded in a shower of spark.

" Avada Kedavra!" One of the Auror's bellowed loudly, and from his wand came a jet of dark green light. The air in the room roared to life and a blast of wind roared with the spell, which shot towards the roof where the stunning spell had came from.

There was a muffled exclamation of panic and suddenly something invisible thumped to the ground, sending a cloud of sawdust from the broken wooden furniture into the air. The blast of green light crashed into the roof and a rafter exploded in a burst of flickering green flames of death, casting an eerie light around the room.

"We have you…" One of the Auror's began, before a small figure dropped from the roof above the bar. It was the old crone, though the grey curls had partially fallen off and its face was determined and angry. The crone roared, a surprisingly deep sound from such a little person, and she flicked the wand quickly.

One of the Auror's gave a surprised yell as he was swept off his feet by an invisible force, like a fish on a fishing line, and flew through the air, landing on top of the invisible person. Both the Auror and the invisible person gave an audible grunt of pain¸ before another jet of green light lit up the room and the Auror gasped in fear, his eyes going wide with shock as a jet of green light slammed into his back, seeping into his very being and destroying any trace of life within him.

" Sweredi!" The small figure said in a squeaky voice and a white pillar of light erupted from his wand and rocketed towards the last Auror, who thrust his wand out and bellowed an incantation. A silver-tinted ebony shield formed on his arm and the Auror braced himself as the pillar of white sparkling magic struck him. The shield bore the brunt of the attack but the Auror screamed as his shield crumpled beneath the force of the attack, slicing into his arm painfully. The white pillar pulsed as it pushed against the weakening shield and the Auror stepped backwards against his will, as he was pushed further and further away from the old crone. Suddenly he lost his footing and stumbled, presumedly over a piece of debris, and the white pillar struck him in the chest. The Auror was blown back like a piece of straw in the wind. Bones snapped and limbs twisted into unnatural angles as the Auror bounced off the walls and floor, his eyes glazed over and his body limp, before he stopped in a bloody heap in the middle of the pub.

The battlefield was suddenly silent save for the harsh breathing of the invisible person. Six Auror bodies lay crumpled on the ground and while some had just been stunned, others lay in bloody heaps and one was dead. The tables and chairs had been knocked over and destroyed, some of the remains smoked, while the walls and bar had craters in them. Above, the flickering flames that curled at the end of a destroyed rafter illuminated the entire room in a sickly green glow.

"Duncan?" The old crone said squeakily. She flicked her wand and the dead Auror that appeared to be floating off the ground levitated off something invisible and was carelessly thrown aside. Moments later, something shimmered and wavered as a medium sized man with ordinary looks, shaggy brown hair and blue eyes dropped his invisibility spell, climbing to his feet with a hand clutched to his head, wincing as he did so.

"Flitwick?" He mumbled groggily.

The old crone waved her wand and the disguise fell off, revealing that she was in fact a he! Professor Filius Flitwick, once a teacher of charms at Hogwarts, now a Professor at Azkaban and leader of a Raiding team, stood where the old crone had. His eyes, which had once been warm and inviting, were slightly dulled. A layer of hardness covered his cheerful and bouncy attitude as he regarded the man in front of him.

Filius was one of the best duellers that Azkaban had to offer. When the Ministry had fallen and Hogwarts was on the verge of collapsed, Filius had led the remaining students to Azkaban and placed himself under the leadership of Harry Potter. He had then taught the young man everything he knew about duelling, until seven years later, Harry had surpassed him. Even then, Filius was the second most powerful and skilled wizard at Azkaban and only Harry Potter's bounty was larger than the one on his head.

"Do you know where you went wrong, Duncan?" Filius asked.

"I didn't silently cast the spell," The man answered dutifully. He winced as he clutched his head even harder and Filius could see blood seeping from the wound. "But I couldn't concentrate properly!"

"That is why Silent Casting is extremely difficult to use in battles," Somebody else said as they revealed themselves. It was a slender woman with billowy blue eyes and glittering dark hair. She looked frail, as if a slight wind would knock her over, but her presence radiated authority and strength and demanded respect. "Which is why elite duellers such as Filius here will say the incantation and lose stealth to gain speed. But you should have used a more powerful spell if you were going to incantate it, instead of a Stunner."

Filius raised his wand and approached the man. With a short flick of his wand, he levitated off the ground until he was eye-level to the man and ran the tip of his wand over the gash. The man gasped as golden light seeped from Flitwick's wand and flowed into the gash, until the cut closed itself and the wound had been healed.

"Melanie, where is Reilly and O'Connor?" Flitwick asked as he dropped to the ground, landing easily on his two feet.

The woman gestured with her head towards the muggle doors. "They managed to apparate into a Muggle taxi," She answered, a hint of amusement and exasperation in her voice. "They were trying to erase some memories when I left."

Suddenly the door that led to the Muggle world burst open and a man and a women rushed in, their wands in their hands and curses on their lips.

"Here they are!" Melanie said and shook her head in annoyance as the two newcomers smiled uncertainly.

"We just had to obliviate a muggle or two…" The man, who had white hair, dark eyes and a mischievous grin, said with a tiny grin.

"I would believe you Douglas," Melanie said sharply. "If you didn't have Kylie's lipstick all over your face!"

Douglas winced while Kylie, a short witch with blonde plaited hair, green eyes and dimples blushed prettily at the words and looked away.

"It was only for luck!" Douglas protested as he slipped his hand into Kylie's hand and squeezed it gently.

"Never mind," Filius interrupted. Despite his high-pitched voice and his small stature, the talking immediately ceased. "We do have a job to do,"

Douglas and Kylie both smiled a mischievous smile, their eyes glinting similarly with expectation and trouble.

"Merlin that look's scary," Duncan muttered.

Flitwick smiled at his team's antics and levelled his wand at the fireplace within the walls. He muttered an incantation, his voice rising in pitch and volume as he waved his wand in complex movements. The air tingled with magic and the fireplace began to glow weakly as Flitwick chanted. Suddenly the fireplace burst out with eerie green flames and Flitwick lowered his wand and shook his head dazedly.

"Are you alright sir?" Douglas asked, his trouble-making smile gone as he watched Flitwick with concern.

"I am quite alright," Flitwick squeaked. "There were powerful charms on that particular grate. However, I was successful. The Floo is down,"

"The silencing charms are still active on this building, which means nobody heard our little ruckus in here," Melanie said softly.

"Now is the time to act," Flitwick said, and suddenly his cheerful exterior disappeared completely. He stood tall and motioned his team towards the door that led to Diagon Alley.

"That's it," Harry said softly as he and his team peered over a fallen log within some woods. In front of them stood a large two-story house, deep within the abandoned woods of Scotland. Birds chattered playfully as the sun beamed down on them while large trees rose from the ground.

"It doesn't seem very well defended," One of his team members said nervously. His name was Davis, a new member to the group. He was replacing Max, who had died a week ago during a standard hit and run raid, victim to a skilled Death Eater. Davis had brown scruffy hair and dark-brown eyes and showed great potential. Unfortunately, he was rather nervous around Harry.

"Sir, do you see that clump of bushes over there?" Robert asked. He was in his seventies and limped on his left leg, with auburn hair and a grizzled face. While his physically handicap prevented him from being the fastest moving fighter on the battlefield, his talent at duelling listed him as one of the top ten duellers at Azkaban. "It doesn't sway with the wind,"

"The detail is extraordinary." A woman in her eighties muttered. Wizards and wizards lived longer than muggles, so Bowden only appeared to be in her fifties. However, her hair was greyed and her gaze was steely and unrelenting. She radiated a sense of authority and power from her body. She had once been the top Ministry Auror instructor and in Azkaban, only Flitwick and Harry could match her skill with a wand. "But the fools forgot to place reality compensating charms,"

"There are four clumps of bushes like that," A voluptuous woman with smoky green eyes and lustrous raven hair murmured. Jordan had been a Slytherin in her first year when Harry was in his sixth year and was one of the students that Flitwick had brought over when the Ministry had fallen. She, like the rest of Harry's team, was very skilled.

"Does everybody remember the plan?" Harry asked. At their confirming nods, a dark smile appeared on his face. "Alright. Remember, move hard, move fast and show no mercy. These aren't normal Auror's doing there jobs, these are Death Eater's. They're stronger, faster and more skilled. After the alarm sounds, we have four minutes until their reinforcements will show up. At the four-minute mark, we'll apparate to secondary target. Go!"