(Author's Note: edited to remove the interrogation scene. It was completely ridiculous and out of character for Luna – honestly, what was I thinking?)
Six black-robed men stood in a circle around a pillar of green flame, arms folded, blank masks held up towards a tiny figure suspended within. Beyond the weirdly flickering circle of green light, there was only darkness. A more fitting and atmospheric meeting place for this evil cabal would have been impossible to find.
"Excellent, my brothers," their leader, Kilburn said. His voice, normally high-pitched and reedy, had been magically deepened and smoothed out for the occasion. "Everything has gone according to plan. Before the week has passed, England shall be ours."
"And then… the world!" Paxton Yaxley, his number two, crowed. He started to laugh, but subsided when nobody joined him. Nobody said it aloud, but he was only the second in command because his older brother, Jan Yaxley, had been a Death Eater of high rank.
"It is far too early for a diabolical laugh, Yaxley," Rathbone told him. He had a soft, scholarly voice that was strange to hear from his massive cloaked form. "Until our ritual is complete, we are still vulnerable."
"Yeah, about that," Yaxley asked. "What're we waiting for?"
"Planetary alignment."
"It's always something like that," he groused. "I don't see why we can't just do it already!"
"Would you like to try?" Rathbone offered. "I am interested to see what would happen to you. It would be… instructive."
"You know what, that would be fun," Flaherty agreed. He was the designated torturer, though since the cabal had only just formed, he hadn't had much of a chance to operate in his official capacity. "I could use the inspiration."
"Man, if you're already running out of ideas…" Willis, cabal treasurer, started.
"It's not that. I just think it'd be nice and juicy. It's been a while since I've seen a good dismemberment, or would his flesh melt off…?"
"Is that pervert doing anything over there?" Yaxley asked, leaning to the side. "I can't see him through the fire. Is he…?"
"Enough," Kilburn cut in. "We have only a short time to prepare. If the Ministry is going to try to rescue our captive, they will have to do it tonight. Are our defenses in place?"
"Everything except for the wolves and bats you wanted," Yaxley reported, suddenly all business. "We might have had more luck with them, but our vampire couldn't get his act together."
"Giff me a break!" Waldorf protested. "I'm new at diffs!"
"We shouldn't need them anyway," Kilburn said dismissively. "Anything that could threaten us here wouldn't be deterred by wolves."
"Actually, if they were to employ a Gytrash…" Rathbone started.
"Come now, what are the odds of that?" Willis snorted.
"What do you know about it?"
"Anyway, Rathbone, Flaherty, stay here with me. The rest of you, take your positions. We tricked the Ministry once, but that doesn't mean they can't still find us."
They all murmured their assent.
"Once we've done this small thing, the whole world will tremble at our name!" Kilburn raised his arms, framing the fire and the tiny figure within dramatically. "All will fear the Death Vomiters!"
Willis whispered something. Yaxley sniggered.
With a disgusted sigh, Kilburn turned away and waved his wand. "Finite," he muttered, and the oppressive darkness around them suddenly retreated, revealing the towering walls of a hedge maze beneath a beautiful noon sky. Birds twittered cheerily in the distance and a lone contrail tracked silently overhead. Behind him, where the flames had been, stood a simple marble fountain, but the pale figure of an unconscious boy was still suspended over it, slowly turning.
"It almoft makef you feel bad, doefn't it?" Waldorf commented, looking up at him.
"Dude, what kind of vampire are you?" Yaxley jeered.
"What do you mean you've just found my boy!?" Draco Malfoy cried, beating his fists on the Minister's desk. "You said that two days ago!"
"It was a false lead," Minister Shacklebolt explained calmly. "The boy we tracked down turned out to be a Death Vomiter on Polyjuice Potion, and the Aurors we sent were detained by Albania's Magjiautoritet."
Malfoy staggered back from the desk, absolutely beside himself. Robes disheveled, thinning silver hair unkempt, eyes darting about wildly, he couldn't have been farther from the self-assured, demanding creature that had invaded Kingsley's office a week before. After making a series of squeaking sounds in his chest, Malfoy finally managed to shriek, "What kind of Mickey Mouse operation are you running here, Shacklebolt!?"
Kingsley ignored the insult, clasping his hands and resting them on the vast ash expanse of his desk. Normally it was covered with a thick layer of paperwork, but he had cleared it in advance, expecting a lot of dramatic desk-pounding and sweeping of arms from his visitor. "I sent another Auror to interrogate the Death Vomiter."
Malfoy looked up, a faint gleam in his eyes suggesting that he hoped the interrogation had been unpleasant. "And?"
"They're hoping to take advantage of the planetary alignment tonight to perform a Furari Legato ritual."
"A planetary-?" This was the first spell Malfoy had ever heard of that would depend on the positions of the planets. It hailed from an ancient tradition that the Wizarding World had long since left behind. "A what?"
"By killing the only heir to the Malfoy name with a particular spell at the moment of alignment, Kilburn hopes to become the inheritor of your family's legacy, at least as far as any enchantments or magical devices are concerned. Is there anything that Scorpius would inherit as a Malfoy that you could see the Death Vomiters being interested in?"
Malfoy had turned grey. It seemed that he hand an idea.
"That might be something we need to talk about," Kingsley said. "But now is not the time. Our first priority is seeing to your son's safety. They've taken him to a Muggle tourist attraction in Castlewellan and concealed it with a series of spells. I've dispatched a specialst—"
"A specialist? A specialist!?" Malfoy gasped. "One Auror!?"
"One of our best," Kingsley affirmed, unperturbed.
"If it were Potter's boy," Malfoy shrieked. "You would have sent half the Ministry!"
"If it were Potter's boy," Kingsley countered. "Potter himself would be out there, wouldn't he?"
Malfoy swallowed the rest of his tirade, eyes bulging.
"Please understand, Mr. Malfoy—this ritual isn't the Death Vomiter's only objective. They've planned several attacks to coincide with our rescue attempt, so, with the original rescue party in an Albanian prison, we have no other Aurors to spare. We've given her a few hours to prepare and enlist help."
"Who?" Malfoy gritted, looking as if he had just swallowed a lemon whole.
Kingsley opened his mouth but then paused, considering. "Actually, you might know her."
The sun was starting to set, painting the world a gentle orange. Puffy, dark blue clouds filled the eastern sky, promising rain later that night. Muggle families were sitting down to dinner, unaware of the fantastic battle that was about to play out in their midst.
A Death Vomiter named Barnaby sat next to the hedge maze's entrance like a gargoyle, dozing on and off, a vast, round shape swathed in coarse black robes. He hadn't bothered to don his mask—nobody could see the maze anyway, right? His round, friendly-looking face was turned to the sky, drool emerging from the corner of a surprisingly small mouth. Just as his dream was nearing its passionate climax, a twig snapped nearby.
"Uh-wha-?" he gasped, sitting up.
A tall, willowy woman was walking towards him, light blue robes swishing about her sandals. A silky mass of dark blonde hair swung behind her, graceful fugitive strands shooting out every which way. She had an elegant, thoughtful face and huge, misty gray eyes. At the moment, she was looking around as though lost, having happened upon this heavily protected and expertly hidden hedge fortress by blind chance.
"Oh, hello," she said pleasantly, drawing to a stop. "Is this the Castlewellan Peace Maze?" Any muggles who were somehow able to see through the concealing spells wouldn't have recognized it—the yew walls had reared to a horrifying height, laden with menacing ambulatory plants and ominous shadows. Thick, twisted thorns thrust skyward like grasping claws; say what you want about them, but the Vomiters had a flair for drama.
"Shove off, lady," Barnaby replied shortly.
"Well, there's no reason to be so rude."
"I'm serious. If you don't get out of here, I'm gonna hex you good!"
"This seems to be the place, then. Could you put your hands behind your head for me? It'd be a lot easier for both of us if I just arrest you."
"What are you, an Auror?" he asked, grasping his wand. It was then that he noticed her badge, which had been eclipsed in his attention by her eyes. "Buh—you are! Don't—don't think I'm scared of you! Just because-!"
"BOO!" the woman cried, waving her arms.
Barnaby yelped and jumped back, fetching up against the wall. He still had his wand in a death-grip, but hadn't brought it to bear.
"There's a wrackspurt floating by your left ear," she told him with an eerie little half-smile, dropping one shoulder towards him and raising her wand arm like an old-west gunfighter. "Just a friendly warning, it might slow you down a little."
Barnaby drew, snarling, "Cruci-!"
"Wingardium Leviosa," the woman countered, almost lazily, and his curse shot over her head. Barnaby tried to take aim again as he was drawn into the air, but the Auror's wand continued to track him, and she finished her attack with a similarly mellow, "Deprimo."
WHUMP! Barnaby would wake in a prison cell six hours later.
"Lovegood? Loony Lovegood?" Malfoy groaned.
Kingsley raised an eyebrow. He'd expected another explosion, but Draco just looked like he was about to cry. "Luna, you mean."
Malfoy dropped into the visitor's chair and buried his face in his hands. "The safety of my Scorpius is in the hands of Loony Lovegood? What in all the… what… what made you idiots think that that half-blooded psychopath would make a good Auror?"
"Well, you might start with the fact that she is a good Auror," Kingsley answered, lowering his eyebrow with an effort. He was of two minds—on the one hand, he had sympathy for Malfoy as a concerned parent, and preferred to think that it was just anxiety that was making him act like such a git… but on the other, he had little patience for pureblood chauvinists, and even less for people who didn't respect the Aurors under his command. "As I said, one of our best."
"And… and who's with her?" Malfoy asked, dreading the answer.
As soon as Luna stepped into the hedge maze, rubbery vines shot out of the walls to attack her. "Molis Ignis," she said calmly, and blue flames blossomed around the end of her wand. She got a nasty surprise, though, when the leading vines wrapped fearlessly around her wand and snuffed them. More came whipping after, snaring her limbs and holding her still for a thicker set that started to slowly wind around her throat. "Uh-?"
Then they were severed in a silver flash, falling to writhe in the grass at her feet. Professor Longbottom (currently on sabbatical) interposed himself between Luna and the regrouping vines, resting the Sword of Gryffindor across his shoulders. "That's a Norwegian Lightning Throttler," he explained, raising his wand. "They're fireproof. Let's see… Livorunco!" With a high-pitched, almost inaudible wail, the vines shot back into the walls. "How's that?"
"Lightning Throttler?" Luna asked, massaging her neck.
"Crazy name, huh?"
"It seemed awfully slow to be called 'Lightning Throttler.'" After a moment of bemusement, Luna shook her head. "Right then, let's get on."
Try as he might, Malfoy couldn't summon up a complaint, even though whenever he tried to picture Neville, all that would come to mind was the sniveling first year whose Rememberall he'd stolen. He hadn't been on hand to see Neville's conduct during the Battle of Hogwarts, or he might have been more enthusiastic. "The Herbology professor?"
"Consider the terrain." Kingsley didn't feel the need to explain himself, but he could see that the cadence of his deep, slow voice was having a soothing effect. "The Death Vomiters have removed all of the enchantments we put on that maze to keep Muggles safe, so they might be relying on the dangerous plants for their defense. Professor Longbottom won't have any trouble seeing Luna through them."
"That's… fair," Malfoy conceded. "But last time you said there was a dragon. What are they going to do about the dragon?"
"We don't know if their dragon is there, but if it is…"
"So there is a dragon," Neville said sourly. "Damn."
The creature stood in a small court before them, snout buried in a steaming cow's corpse. It was shaped like a stout velociraptor, with only tiny wing nubs emerging from its powerful shoulders. The rounded scales of its back and limbs were sapphire mottled in navy, while its belly was covered with serried gold plates. Dark armored eyelids flicked up over bright red catseyes. Its tail lashed back and forth like a whip as it noisily enjoyed its kill.
"That's… a Jordanian Redhood, isn't it?" Luna ventured, squinting.
"Good eye," Charlie Weasley commended, pushing between them. His robes lacked sleeves, showing off his muscular, scarred arms. With his wild, flowing red hair, he almost presented the classic image of an 80's action hero, but he was redeemed by his intelligent green eyes. "Big one, too."
"I've never heard of those," Neville commented. "Are they ill-tempered?"
"Moderately," Charlie allowed.
"Dangerous, then?"
"Ludicrously. They spit venom, as if the fire wasn't enough. And they have a tremor-sense, so don't try to avoid them by turning invisible or masking your smell."
"She's pretty," Luna observed.
"Pretty what? Pretty terrifying?" Neville asked wryly.
"I think I can handle her," Charlie said, striding forward. "Are you kids good for the rest of 'em?"
"Unless there's an army of Inferi or—" Luna started, then broke off in a startled yelp as the dragon straightened and showed off the reason for her name.
"Ksaasssssss!" she snarled, cobra-like hood bursting out around her head. Her long, blunt snout dropped open to reveal three rows of fire-blackened teeth and two flailing forked tongues. Her eyes had popped open into huge, terrible red orbs.
"Easy, now, that's a girl…" Charlie said quietly. Luna and Neville started to edge uncomfortably along the wall, wishing they'd planned for this contingency a little better.
As soon as he heard the name 'Weasley,' Malfoy's stomach plummeted. However, he could again find no good reason to complain. He couldn't name any other dragon experts offhand, and it made sense that Lovegood would fall back on one that she knew personally.
"Are you all right?" Kingsley suddenly asked. His tone had shifted—he didn't sound apologetic, exactly, but he seemed to realize that he might have been baiting the younger wizard a little.
"Yes, considering," Malfoy replied stiffly. "Are those three all?"
"There's one more." Now the Minister was hesitant. Knowing Malfoy's prejudices, he wasn't sure if it would be a good idea to name the last member of their rescue party. In the back of his mind, he wondered what the Daily Prophet would make of it if he were forced to subdue a wizard under his protection. "The Death Vomiters miscalculated by using this alignment for their ritual, instead of waiting."
"How?" Malfoy asked, hungry for good news.
"Well… it's also the night of a full moon."
Luna and Neville came to a T-intersection and drew to a stop. The night was eerily silent, though they took heart from the lack of draconic roars and screams of agony behind them. To either side, the corridor vanished into the silvery gloom, seemingly empty.
"Well, which way?" Neville asked.
"Mmm… we went left, then right, then left…" Luna murmured, staring into space and gesturing with her pinky finger. "I'd guess that we should go—hm." She deflected a stunning spell with an offhand flick of her wand. "Well, that helps. Let's see… oh, it's a real mouthful…" She made a series of wide, dramatic gestures. "Exigo Pateo Extorqueo!"
Death Vomiters suddenly snapped into focus, as if it had only been a trick of the light that made them look like patches of the walls and grass. Cover blown, they opened fire in earnest, and Neville and Luna were forced back to back.
"There are four or five of them on your side," Luna said conversationally, warding the first volley of hexes off with practiced ease. "Want to trade?"
"What?"
"I've only got three over here."
"I'm good," Neville grunted, catching a jagged purple curse on the Sword of Gryffindor. The spell's light swirled and flickered around it like flames, then sank into the blade and vanished. Its Goblin-wrought metal would absorb only what made it stronger, and apparently this curse fit the bill.
"They sure aren't very professional."
"Mm."
"It's not like fighting Death Eaters at all. Remember when they-?"
"Luna," Neville interrupted, his voice dripping with affection in spite of his best efforts. "Shut up."
"Aarrh!" one of the Vomiters on Luna's side crumpled, stunned.
"Screw this!" Willis cried, sidestepping to avoid his falling body. (His presence probably explained how the Death Vomiters on Luna's side were holding out for so long.) "Use it! Use it!"
"Use what?" One of Neville's opponents paused to ask, only to be bowled over by a conjured twenty-pound squash. "Uwahh!"
"Never mind, I'll do it myself!" Willis grabbed his remaining comrade's robes and used him as a shield against Luna while he turned and yelled, "Vegitiblus Horriblis Maximus!"
Neville paused in his frantic defense for just a moment, thinking, That can't be a real spell, can it?
But sadly, it was. Something emerged in the darkness behind Willis—an elephantine mass of twisted thorns and lashing vines, stumping along on four legs and quickly gaining speed. "What did you just-!" the shield cried as he was thrown at the monster and Willis beat a hasty retreat.
The Vomiters on Neville's side seemed to know a good idea when they saw it, breaking ranks and fleeing. For a few seconds, it was a turkey shoot, but then Neville noticed two figures who didn't conform.
"Now, Waldorf! While they're distracted!" the smaller yelled.
"Fank you," the larger replied, irritated. "I'm sure they didn't hear that." He threw himself fearlessly at Neville, spreading his cloak wide like the wings of a bat. This reminded the professor uncomfortably of Severus Snape, even before he actually took flight. Attacking without magic, the batlike appearance, flight, the difficulty pronouncing s's, the fact that his stunning curse had absolutely no effect…
"Vampire!" Neville cried.
"Busy!" Luna retorted. So far, she'd tried setting it on fire, depressing the ground under its feet, blocking its view of them and throwing an explosion hex at it, but the thorny juggernaut just kept advancing, now a hellish wall of flame.
Neville braced himself, readying the Sword of Gryffindor. The odds were good that his weapon could hurt a vampire, but he didn't expect that his reflexes would be faster than that of the magical undead. Could this be the end? I just wish I knew any spells that would help against a vampire! What do they think I am, an Auror? Oh.
Luna must have had a similar thought at that moment, because, as one, they gracefully took one step back and turned, trading places.
"Planta Supplanto!" Neville roared.
"Rigomotor Mortis!" Luna sang.
"Umf." Waldorf said as he collapsed, paralyzed, at Luna's feet.
"GRARR!" the monster added, breaking apart into its constituent plants and taking root once more, flames guttering out. For a few seconds, all was silent. Neville rested his hands on his knees and blew out a few long, steadying breaths.
Luna prodded Waldorf with her sandal. "Hey, would you mind telling us which way to go?"
"Away," Waldorf replied sullenly.
"Please, how do we find Scorpius?"
"I'm not telling you nuffing!"
"Why not?" Luna asked. "I can't imagine the Death Vomiters were treating you well. I'll bet they mock your lisp and surprise you with sunlight spells."
"Yeah, I know the type," Neville put in. "They always bring vampires on with flattery and appeals to your dark majesty or whatever, but then they just use you as a meat shield. They knew Luna here's a big time auror. Why didn't they give you more help?"
Waldorf looked at them thoughtfully. "Well... the ritual'th gonna be at the center, tho if you go the way I came from..."
Meanwhile, at the maze's center, Kilburn watched them in the fountain's water and smirked. "This won't do at all…" he murmured, his voice back to its usual unimpressive pitch. "Willis, regroup and go at them again. Ask Binford for help, if you must. And Waldorf… Locomorde."
Neville whipped his sword up to parry a trio of orange bolts that came streaking in from the darkness ahead, but they veered off and twisted around their targets, flashing and sizzling menacingly. A stunning spell cracked out at Luna and she deflected it handily, twisting her arm to ward off one of the orange bolts as it tried for her again.
"What-?" Neville started, but had to skip forward to avoid another pass.
"They attack if you take your attention off of them," Luna said, knocking a jagged purple bolt into the ground where it inflicted massive internal injuries on a poor earthworm, then ducking the three circlers crossed over her head. "Inconvenient, huh?"
"Well, what are you scared of!?" Willis yelled from the shadows. "Hex them, you imbeciles!"
"But what if your Stay Sharps misfire?" a minion asked. "Those buggers hurt!"
"They won't misfire, because I cast them!" Willis snarled impatiently. Every time someone spoke, Luna and Neville were distracted for a moment and had to avoid or dissuade one of the beams. This was quite an uncomfortable situation, but fortunately, it didn't last too long. "Oh, for-! Waldorf! Take them!"
Luna whirled and pointed her wand at the advancing vampire, but one of the Stay Sharps stabbed through her bicep, leaving a scorched wound the size of a quarter and distracting her for the critical moment. "Sol-!" was all she managed to choke out before Waldorf roughly seized her wrist, shoved her head back, and then, rather than biting her lovely exposed neck, shrieked in pain as the Sword of Gryffindor plunged into his stomach.
Released, Luna twisted around Neville's crouching form and threw up a "Largus Protego!" against the squad of armed Death Vomiters he'd turned his back on to save her. Definitely a Gryffindor, she sighed, fit to burst with gratitude.
Then the remaining Stay Sharps snapped in. Luna managed to dispel one, but the other shot through her stomach, Neville's shoulder and Waldorf's groin in one go. All screamed. They reeled for a moment, then, overcome with rage, Waldorf grabbed the front of Neville's robes and hurled him over the wall into the next corridor.
Luna might have been able to single-handedly fight off the vampire and Death Vomiters, but at that moment, a horrible, inky feeling spread from her Stay Sharp wounds. She fell to her knees, wand dropping from suddenly nerveless fingers, breath hitching, and wishing, in her heart of hearts, that she had thought to tell Kingsley off for launching such a dumb operation in the first place. One Auror against a whole legion of dark wizards? Honestly!
Then, just as Waldorf's hands closed around her in a grim parody of an embrace, a warm scent like blood and cinnamon washed over her. The vampire had a split second to look up in surprise before he was wrenched into the air with inhuman strength.
"Gerrof!" he screamed, throwing a punch that would shatter pavement—then finding himself knocked flying instead. He landed gracefully amid the spattering arcs of blood from… what?
A long, sleek form, trailing gorgeous, shining brown fur, vaulted at him with mercurial grace and a rasping roar. Wicked, five-inch claws flashed out on whip-like limbs, scoring deep bloody Xs across his chest. He found himself staring into a snarling predator's mouth full of pearly fangs, and couldn't for the unlife of him imagine why such a creature would have minty-fresh breath.
Luna rested her forehead on the ground, collecting herself. In spite of the awful pain from her wounds and the imminent danger they were in, she couldn't help but smile. "Just in time, Lavender," she murmured.
"A werewolf."
"Yes, Mr. Malfoy, Lavender Brown is a werewolf."
"A werewolf." Malfoy stood up, very slowly. His eyes were crazed, his lips were trembling and his face was absolutely white. "A were…wolf…"
"Mr. Malfoy…" Kingsley started, tensing.
Malfoy's wand came out. Kingsley's hand rose. A filing cabinet behind him exploded into a shower of red and purple sparks. As the cinders drifted down around them like weirdly colored snow, Kingsley looked calmly up at his guest's livid face and maintained an iron grip on his wrist.
"Do you feel better now?" he asked.
"Like hell I'm going to trust my boy's safety to a werewolf!" Malfoy snarled. "Let me go, Shacklebolt!"
"I don't think that would be a good idea."
"A werewolf! Have you lost all sense!? I'm going down there myself! This instant!"
"I don't think that would be a good idea," Kingsley repeated. "Do you know why you're here?"
"Let go!"
"Because you're the rightful owner of whatever it is they want. If they're willing to kill Scorpius to get it, they'll kill you, too. I'm not there fighting the Death Vomiters myself because I'm protecting you."
For a moment or two, Malfoy looked baffled. He had been so focused on his son's safety that he hadn't even considered the threat to himself. It was the closest to showing an admirable trait that Kingsley had ever seen the man, and it was gratifying. "I… can… take care of myself…" he said stiffly.
"All the same," Kingsley replied, releasing him. "We prefer to be safe, rather than sorry. Until Lovegood returns with your son, we're considering you at risk. Why don't you have a seat?"
Malfoy did, heavily.
A pair of low-ranking Aurors poked their heads into the room. "Is something wrong, sir?" one asked.
"Took you long enough," Kingsley answered with good humor. "Everything's fine."
"Right, sir."
"Sorry, sir." They bowed out.
"Maytagus," Malfoy said dully, swinging his wand. The cinders obediently swirled into a ball and dropped themselves into the wastebasket.
"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy. Now, before it becomes a problem between you and the Ministry, you might tell me what it is."
Malfoy looked up at him for a long moment, then relented. "It's…"
"…the Macguffin," Rathbone said with relish. "In just two hours, it will be ours."
"Beg pardon?" Flaherty asked. He had been looking up at Scorpius and planning the series of cuts he would perform with Chisakiru to prepare him for Kilburn's final spell. "Is that what we're doing this for? What's a Macguffin?"
"It is a magical device created by the great dark wizard Angus Macguffin. If we have the Macguffin, the Ministry will surely fall before us! And then…!"
"Yes, yes, and then the world," Flaherty finished, irritated. "Very nice. But what does it do?"
"It is an artifact of incredible power!"
"But what does it do?"
Rathbone floundered for a moment. "I… do not know," he finally admitted.
Flaherty turned to him, eyes widening. "We're doing all this and we don't even know why?"
"Look," Kilburn cut in impatiently. "Angus Macguffin was the most powerful dark wizard in the world until Grindewald came along, and this thing, whatever it was, was his life's work. I don't know how the Malfoys got it, but they were scared to use it even when You-Know-Who was running the Ministry. Sounds like a good deal to me, how about you?"
"Sure, fine, whatever," Flaherty muttered, lining his wand up again. He'd get to cut someone up, so the particulars didn't bother him.
Kilburn looked into the fountain again and observed the four intruders. Neville was sitting alone in his corridor, muttering blackly and pressing a mashed herb of some kind into his Stay Sharp wound. The rangy, oddly well-groomed werewolf was loping after Waldorf, who seemed to be crying. The dragon happily paddled her legs in the air while Charlie rubbed her belly, cooing, "Who's a good girl?"
There was just one spot of good news—the Auror seemed to be down for the count, and Willis was advancing to finish her off. However, as he focused his attention on her, he could hear her voice faintly. Was she… singing?
"Willis!" he cried, forgetting to cast Apsumauris. "Kill her!"
But it was too late. Luna surged to her feet, entirely healed, and thrust her wand right into the treasurer's chest. "Expelliarmus!" Willis was blown off of his feet to tumble into his fellows as Luna caught his wand from the air and wielded both in a furious attack.
Kilburn's jaw dropped as curses ripped up and down his ranks of minions. They tumbled away, some simply stunned, others dancing jigs they couldn't stop, or vomiting slugs, or clutching at front teeth growing out of control, as well as an unfortunate few borne aloft by ears that had turned into wings. The Auror easily slipped between their disorganized counterattack, blasting them down two-by-two, until only Willis was left, clutching a subordinate's wand and shaking like a leaf in the midst of his moaning, writhing command. "I'll… I'll take you on!" he quavered.
Luna leveled both wands on him, but then, seeming to take pity, tossed his back. He reached for it, lips already forming, "Avada Ke-!" before her jinx struck home and he reeled back, waving his arms in a panic. "Uwaah! What the-! Ahh! Ow!" The mucus in his nose was turning into a swarm bats and attacking his face, making vicious little squelchy sounds. The dreaded Death Vomiter beat a hasty retreat, stumbling over his fallen allies and yelling apologies over his shoulder until he disappeared around the corner.
Luna never saw him again.
"How the hell did she heal herself?" Kilburn squawked, this time forgetting that he'd left his spell on. "That was a sung countercurse! I could count the wizards who know those off on one hand! Who could have taught-?"
"Headmaster Severus Snape, though I'm sure he didn't mean to," Luna informed him, grinning, then casually poked her wand towards his view. The water that had borne her image erupted, dousing the three Death Vomiters. When Kilburn had swept his sopping bangs out of his face, sputtering, the fountain was clear and sparkling. "Send them all!" he roared, amplifying his voice to ring through the whole maze. "All Death Vomiters converge on region four! Don't let that slag leave this maze alive!"
Rathbone smiled. It was really the first time he could remember his boss sounding like a genuine evil overlord.
Neville had no idea where area four was, of course, but some mistreated sentry plants (Yaxley had forgotten to water them the past three days running) were happy to point the way for him. They also helpfully warned him that a Death Vomiter was sneaking up behind him at that very moment. He twisted just in time to avoid a volley of tiny metal spikes, mentally shutting out his informant's yelp of pain and his fellows' sardonic comments.
"Lucky!" the attacker snarled.
Neville blinked in surprise. "Bartholomew Binford?"
"In the flesh!" Binford confirmed proudly. To be honest, though, he really had little cause to be proud. He was a genius of… no, better to say that he was an idiot savant of misusing Muggle artifacts, particularly power tools. The device he held now would have been recognizable to a Muggle-born as a nail gun, but Neville had no idea what it was. He could see, however, that several enchantments were layered over it, including a ball of crackling electricity capping the end of its power cord, burning an orange ring into his vision as Binford swung it about.
"I don't have time for this!" Neville growled, thrusting his wand forward. "Loc-!" Binford fired another volley of nails, though, and the Herbology professor was forced to change his spell in midstream to "Impedimentia!"
Unfortunately, the thrice-enchanted nails were not so easily impeded. Neville grunted as one caught his arm, wrenched sideways by his dive for cover. His wand flew from his hand, rolling away as he recovered his feet in time to parry as Binford swung the crackling end of his power cord, proving that whatever amazing metal the goblins had used to forge his blade, it was non-conductive.
Now, the Death Vomiter had actually hit upon an interesting idea for a weapon with his magical nail gun, and in the hands of a Hong Kong action star, it had the potential to be unbelievably awesome and stylish. Fortunately, in the hands of a man like Binford, it was more awkward and silly. He managed to get one more volley of nails off, beating a strident tattoo against Neville's masterful guard, then collapsed to the ground under a full body-bind spell, potential wasted.
Neville paused to smash the nail gun with the flat of his sword, tried to think of a witty quip, then shrugged and rushed off to find Luna.
Gently questioning another Death Vomiter, Luna found that they were holding young Scorpius just a few hundred yards away. However, as she started forward, she decided that he'd given that bit of information up a little too eagerly. Wheeling about in that distinctive way of hers that made it seem like a random whim, she meandered back and sat next to her subject, using one of his fellows as a cushion.
"Wh…wh…what do you want now?" he asked nervously.
"Something just occurred to me," she answered negligently. "Veritus, again, if it wore off." It wasn't really a truth spell; she'd made Veritus up as a bluff long ago, but so many dark wizards seemed eager to believe that Aurors had incredible superpowers that it had become a habit to open with it. "Now, tell me how many Death Vomiters are along the way to Scorpius."
"I'm not telling."
"Well… you definitely think you're telling the truth," Luna allowed, with a very slight smile. "But I think you'll come through for me."
"Forget it."
"I could Imperius you."
"Pah!"
"You're right, of course. I wouldn't do that. But, you know, there's still at least two hours before the alignment." She forced her smile to grow a little. "That gives me plenty of time to sit here and think of unpleasant things to do to you."
The subject looked up at her, suddenly unnerved. Her eyes might have been huge silver coins for all the emotion and humanity they showed. He'd have taken heart if he could see the frustration behind them, but he had never been the sharpest tool in the shed. "Okay, fine! There are seven of them!"
"You're lying, Ricardo," Luna said tonelessly.
"How did you know my name?" Ricardo cried, so frightened that he'd forgotten that he was wearing a name tag.
"I know many things," Luna said, her tone making the simple statement a pronouncement of apocalyptic doom.
"Okay, okay! Twenty of them! And seven more in the gallery with the boss!"
"Oh, thanks. Well, have a good sleep."
"Huh?" Ricardo grunted, then abruptly conked out as Luna waved her wand over him.
Twenty seven, on top of all the Death Vomiters she and her friends had already fought through? And that wasn't even counting the ones crowding around region four looking for her! Where had they all come from? She imagined the consternation of her fellow Aurors at dozens of sites all over Britain, who by now must be realizing that the dreaded attacks were not forthcoming and they'd all been had. Even though it meant more work and mortal peril for her, it was still amusing enough to make her giggle, a little.
But there was still the question of what to do about the twenty seven before her and the however many behind her. She needed a way to disrupt and confuse them, as well as pointing the area out for her allies. They'd made a plan for just such an occasion, but she'd really hoped to avoid it.
Thinking back, she'd marvel at how heavy the wand seemed in her hand as she lifted it, and how much speaking the incantation really felt like vomiting filthy rags. (She knew from experience—some of the Dark Wizards she'd encountered used some nasty tricks.) Nevertheless, her voice didn't falter as she called, "Morsmorde."
When the Dark Mark exploded overhead, the effect was immediate. A great commotion rose among the assembled Vomiters. "The Death Eaters!" one cried jubilantly. "The Dark Lord has returned!"
"No he hasn't, you gullible moron!" another snarled.
"What d'you mean?" a third asked. "He's due back any time now! Nothing can kill the Dark Lord! I'll bet he killed Kilburn and…!"
"What!?" a fourth gasped. "If he killed Kilburn, I'll kill him!"
"You can't kill the Dark Lord!" The first crowed. "It's him, I know it!"
"The hell are you talking about?" the second snapped back. "Voldemort is dead!"
That tore it. Eschewing his wand, the wizard next to him whirled and punched him in the ear. All at once, curses were flying everywhere, as well as their unfortunate targets. Watching from his gallery, Kilburn amplified his voice again and roared for order. They might have actually listened if Lavender hadn't crashed into their midst at that moment, braying like the damned.
When Luna and Neville arrived just moments later, it was to a scene of horror. The lanky werewolf, no longer impeccably groomed but matted with blood and sweat, eyes crazed and rolling, ribs heaving, covered with wounds from a variety of hexes, stood in a field strewn with fallen Death Vomiters. She dropped to all fours and advanced, sleek muscles coiling, tongue lolling beneath clouds of reeking steam. Her movements were jerky and pained, and constellations of bloody spots followed her across the ground.
"Lavender… baby…" Luna gasped, taking a step towards her.
Neville caught her arm. "I don't think…"
"It's okay," Luna brushed his hand away. "She promised not to hurt me."
"I… I don't think…"
Luna ignored him and walked towards the werewolf, holding a hand out as if to pet her. The moon peeked through the ponderously rolling clouds on the horizon, its sullen red light filtering dimly through the hedges about them. Lavender crouched, ears flattening as a high-pitched, winding snarl rolled from her throat. Neville gripped his wand but didn't bring it to bear—if their erstwhile colleague were to strike, Luna would be dead before he could cast in any case.
"Lavender Brown," Luna murmured, her soft voice rising and falling to a strange cadence. "Lavender Brown… Lavender…"
The werewolf reared back and howled. It was a concrete wall of sound, slamming into Neville's face, driving spikes into his ears and icicles through his chest. He gritted his teeth and covered his ears, terrified for the first time in ages; not of the howl, but of a thin, keening note of a human scream twisting through it.
In the deafening silence that followed, Luna said something.
"What?" Neville gawped, twisting his pinky in his ear.
"What time is it?"
"Uhh… 3:16 AM."
"Haa…" Luna sighed heavily and rested her hands on her knees. "I had that right, then. I was worried I'd be off by a few minutes."
"What are you…?"
"…hurts…" Lavender whimpered.
Luna quickly knelt by the now-human Lavender, murmuring reassurances and singing countercurses under her breath. Neville gallantly offered his outer robe (as one might have expected, her clothes hadn't come through the ordeal very well), which settled enormously over her suddenly narrow shoulders. Even as she started to recover, smiling wanly, the Herbology professor was struck by how run-down she looked. It brought old Professor Lupin to mind, actually.
"Do you have your wand?" Luna asked, wiping blood from her cheek.
"I think I… yes. Yes." Lavender jerked it out of under her. It hadn't fared much better than her clothes. She laughed unsteadily. "Might need some spell-o-tape, though."
"Here…" Luna helped her to her feet. "Neville, stay with her, please? I'm going on ahead."
"Alone?"
"Um… yes?" Luna looked at him askance. "Who else would come?"
"But… aren't there quite a few of them up there?"
"Not as many as behind. I've got this, Neville. Tell me, do you know how to counter an Expelli Viscerato curse?"
"Uh, you expect me to know something like that?"
"Not at all, though I suppose you might have surprised me. Now stay with Lavender, okay?"
"Uh…" Neville spread his hands. "Fine. Just call if you need us."
Luna gave him an archaic smile that, while pleasant and reassuring, still made the hairs on his arms stand on end. She turned with a swish of light robes and wild hair, then strode forth into the inner sanctum of the Death Vomiters.
Rathbone was waiting. "Expelliarmus!" he roared as soon as she stepped into the square. She was knocked a step back, watching without particular concern as her wand spiraled into the air and fell into some tall grass at the fountain's base.
"Locomotor Mortis!" Flaherty added, planning all of the hideous things he'd do to her once she was immobilized—but instead, one of the nameless masked Death Vomiters that shared the square with them grunted and collapsed, arms rigidly at his sides. They turned in slack-jawed surprise. "Buh?"
"Shield badge," Luna explained, tapping her Auror insignia. "I can't believe it slipped my mind to counter Expelliarmus, though. Oh, well."
"Hold her," Rathbone bade the remaining three minions, and they rushed up to seize her arms. The one who didn't get an arm floundered for a moment before kneeling and wrapping his arms around her legs, making the others snicker.
"Who are you, and how dare you interfere with the affairs of the Death Vomiter High Council?" Kilburn boomed, his voice once again deep and sonorous.
"I'm sorry, but that spell isn't at all convincing," Luna told him. "You should try one that changes the shape of your throat instead of altering the sound after you've spoken."
Kilburn blinked. "Do you think so?"
"It might be more effective," Rathbone agreed. "It would probably last longer, as well."
"I guess I'll have to think about it. I'm kind of leery of shape-changing spells, or I'd've made myself taller by now."
"That's what I did," the Vomiter on Luna's left volunteered. "Lengthened my shins."
"Really?" the one on her right asked. "But they look so real!"
"Argh! Did we just forget what we were doing?" Flaherty yelled. "Idiots!"
"Wha-? Oh. Right. I ask again, who are you, and how dare…?" Kilburn started.
"Crucio!" Flaherty shrieked. The Vomiters holding Luna all screamed and tried to jerk back—but her knee popped forward into the third's throat, making him lurch to his feet just in time to take the curse for her. Luna shoved the one on her right towards Rathbone and sprang between the other two, shooting out in a low dive to snatch for her wand from the grass.
Grinning maniacally, Flaherty kept the Cruciatus curse going on his comrade until Luna stunned him. She rolled to a crouch, thrusting her wand into the ground to cast a Quickdirt Charm. "Rathbone! Do something!" Kilburn wailed as he sank through the ground to his knees. The fountain sank sideways, spraying into the second minion's face and turning his curse into, "Avada-Kablgluglglub!" He was stunned before he could make another attempt.
Rathbone wrenched himself out of the ground, but another spell made it heave beneath him and he was flung into the air to land headfirst on top of his employer. There was a sound like a hammer hitting a cantaloupe and both terrorists crumpled into unconsciousness. Luna paused, staring at them in blank surprise, then turned her attention to the last remaining Death Vomiter.
"Um… I'm sorry?" he ventured.
"Just stun yourself and we'll call it even," Luna replied, wincing at the flash and snap! as he actually did. Another pleasant surprise. "Uh, thanks."
And then, except for the calls of a distant crow and the rush of the fountain as it poured itself out over the second Death Vomiter, silence fell. Luna rested for a moment, appreciating how profoundly strange the quiet felt after such an ordeal.
But there was no time to waste. She quickly straightened took a look around the premises, tried another Exigo Pateo Extorqueo, then turned her attention to Scorpius's inert form slowly turning above the fountain. The boy was tall and thin for his age, with his father's pale complexion and silvery blond hair. His robes had once been finely made but now hung around him in tattered ruin.
"This won't do," she decided, and freed him with a few swift gestures before sliding her wand behind her ear and reaching up for him. Scorpius drifted slowly down into her waiting arms, already stirring. She moved a few feet away from the site of the battle and set him down gently, checking him for curses and injuries.
"Whu… who?" he mumbled.
"Luna Lovegood, Auror," she said in a professional but friendly tone. "Pleased to meet you, Scorpius."
"I, what? Lovegood?" Scorpius looked around blearily. "Am I dreaming?"
"You know what, let's go with that," Luna said agreeably, helping him to his feet. "This is much more pleasant as a dream. Come on, then."
"Not so fast!" Yaxley roared from the entrance. He was looking just about as strung out and pummeled as Scorpius, but his wand was steady as he took aim. "That's my Macguffen you're trying to take!"
"What's a Macguffen?" Scorpius wondered, still out of it.
"Paxton Yaxley!" Luna interposed herself between them. "How did you get past Neville?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?" he replied with a huge, evil grin. "Maybe I killed him."
"I doubt you'd manage it." Luna said dismissively. "You're under arrest for-"
"Ha ha ha! Under arrest, am I? And who's gonna bring me in?"
Luna's reply was surprisingly businesslike. "Expelliarmus!"
Yaxley's counter was closer to form. "Serratus!"
The spells crossed, making a weird ripple in the air. Surprisingly, Yaxley managed to parry, but Luna could only shield Scorpius, lurching back with a grunt of pain as four gashes shot across her arm and chest. The tip of her wand was blasted away to skip off of Kilburn's face where he lay. The overlord twitched and shifted, but neither combatant noticed him.
"I win!" Yaxley cried, disbelieving.
"Ollivander made this wand for me," Luna said flatly, holding the severed end towards him. "It was a gift."
"Haha! Too bad the guy's dead, huh?"
Scorpius sat down heavily and hugged his knees, trying to make himself as small as possible. Tears of panic were rolling down his cheeks, but he didn't make a sound. From just the half-second they'd talked to each other, his every instinct screamed at him that he could trust this Lovegood woman's competence about as far as he could throw Hagrid. However, to his credit, he was beginning to recognize how these instincts may have been warped by his upbringing.
"It's strange that this should make me so angry," Luna continued, pocketing the remains. "Compared to all of the other horrible things you've done, breaking your opponent's wand in a duel is downright reasonable, isn't it?"
"Shouldn't you be scared or some-?" Yaxley started, then was blown off of his feet in a hideous cloud of green energy and toppled lifelessly to the ground. Luna whirled, trying to ignore the tingling in her arm that told her just how narrowly she had avoided death. If Kilburn was surprised that she'd felt his silent curse coming and sidestepped, it didn't show in his huge, maddened eyes.
"You really shouldn't have done that," Luna told him, sounding calm as ever. Watching her face carefully, though, Scorpius saw a hint of tension around her eyes. Her airy indifference, it seemed, was a mask. He didn't know whether to feel relieved or not. "They'll come down on you much harder now."
Kilburn gave a hideous, high-pitched laugh. "I don't suppose it would help if I told them I was aiming for you?"
"Probably not," Luna agreed, then tumbled to avoid another torrent of lime-flavored death. "Oof! Though it might help if you stopped attacking me now!"
"Eh," Kilburn shrugged, twirling his wand. His ugly grin didn't falter. "I'm dead anyway." Another silent Avada Kedavra roared out, but Luna was again too quick, rolling obliquely towards him. "And would you die already, bitch? I'm trying to start an evil empire, here!"
Rather than reply, Luna kicked the wand out of his hand. It was a beautiful inside-to-outside crescent kick that sent his weapon soaring out over the hedgemaze and broke two of his fingers. Kilburn could only stare in shock as she skipped a step closer, turning away from him so that her other leg could deliver a devastating, spring-loaded side-kick into his chin. As the tendons in his jaw gave with a gristly crunch and his eyes rolled up in his head, Kilburn decided that his mom was right all along and he should have been a lawyer.
Luna bounced in her stance for a second or two after, but when he didn't stir, she relaxed and moved to Scorpius. "Are you okay?" she asked.
"That was aces!" the boy cried, springing to his feet. His reservations about his savior were completely forgotten. "Where'd you learn to do that?"
"Huh?" Luna blinked, then glanced back at her fallen foe. "Oh, that. It was the Gift of the Gernumblies."
"The… the what?"
Luna held out her finger, showing him a tiny white crescent that had never quite faded. "A gnome bit me here."
"And you… uh, and then you learned Kung Fu?"
"No, I still had to develop the talent. It's Jeet Kune Do, actually."
"From a gnome biting you?"
"That's right."
Scorpius stared for a few seconds. "That's completely insane," he finally said.
Luna looked back at him for a moment, then shrugged. "We should be going," she said, her voice a few degrees cooler. "Your father's worried sick."
"Is he here?" Scorpius asked, running up next to her as she started away. "Did he come to save me?"
"He wanted to," Luna answered, doubting it very much. "But Kings… er, Minister Shacklebolt stopped him."
"That's no fun! I'll bet he woulda…" the boy trailed off in stupefication as the massive Jordanian Redhood came plodding around the bend, bearing the rest of Luna's party on her broad back. "…kicked…their…"
Charlie leaned forward, patting her neck. "Atta girl, right here," he said softly, and the massive beast settled to the ground with a loud sigh.
"How'd it go?" Neville asked, swinging down and offering his hand to Scorpius.
The boy took it and pulled himself up. He was ready to accept just about anything by this point. When he was settled in behind Neville, he turned back to Lavender and asked, "Is, uh, is something wrong?"
"Rough night," she replied dully. "Full moon, you know."
Scorpius quickly turned forward again, wide-eyed. Maybe not anything…
Luna shrugged at Neville's question. "We lived."
"Good, that-hey, you're wounded!" he objected.
"Wounded?" Luna looked down and saw that the front of her robes were completely sodden with blood. Her voice rose to an even loopier timbre. "Oh, right. I'd completely forgotten about that."
"Is it from Chisakiru? I have some mushrooms that would…"
"No, no, Serratus." Luna waved her hand dismissively, not thinking about the fact that she'd named one of the most hideous slashing curses known to wizardkind. "It'll be fine."
Neville blinked, then offered his arm more insistently. "Well, hurry up and-"
"Look out!" Scorpius screamed, and the Redhood lurched to her feet, hissing in panic. A blue streak of fire flashed up in a tight arc before them, driving her from the square. It then bounded over itself, falling like a malevolent comet towards Luna. She ran for all she was worth, which, wounded as she was, didn't turn out to be very much. Her sandals skidded over a puddle of her own blood and she tumbled to the ground.
Rathbone stood triumphantly at the square's center, the tilted fountain pouring majestically over him. He raised his wand on high and the flames grew, streaking in another tight semicircle to cut off Luna's retreat. "Ha ha ha HAA!" the scholar crowed. "Everything is ruined, but I can still kill you!"
"Couldn't you have just stayed unconscious?" Luna whined under her breath, and forced herself to stand. The flames roared behind her, buffeting her with walls of scorching heat. She turned to see the fire's leading edge to her right—if one exercised their imagination, it was possible to see a faint, muscular shape in their midst. "What is this?" she yelped. "Fiendfyre? You idiot! You can't-!"
"The man has who mastered Fiendfyre is an idiot?" Rathbone countered. "What does that make you, who are about to be consumed by it? Think on that!" He thrust his wand towards her, and the flames lunged—for him. He didn't even have time to scream before he, the fountain and the pile of unfortunate Death Vomiters were reduced to less than ash.
Luna took a wobbling step forward, staring in disbelief. She could see the creature in the azure inferno now. It wasn't the hideous, ever-changing horde of monsters that filled Fiendfyre. It was a huge, gorgeous equine shape, pawing the newly barren ground and gazing at her with glowing ruby eyes.
"No…" she gasped, reaching for it. The creature came closer, its corona licking agonizingly over her arms, but she didn't care. It was real. "How… how are you—urgh!" That last came as Neville's arm lashed around her middle and Charlie steered the dragon for safety, laughing like a lunatic as they cleared the hellish flames in powerful bounds. She let herself be drawn up onto the saddle, staring through teary eyes as the vast whatever-it-was leapt heavenward, trailing sapphire flames into the darkening sky.
"Is she okay? Is she gonna be okay?" Scorpius cried.
"This is nothing for Luna," Lavender assured him. "Isn't that right?"
"If you say so," Luna agreed, then passed out.
It didn't take long for help to arrive. As was traditional, the authorities materialized in a swarm just as soon as it was too late to do anything. The air filled with broomsticks as teams of Obliviators spread out through the Muggle community, squads of Aurors descended into the maze to round up the remaining Death Vomiters and Decumbustors girded themselves for battle against the strange blaze.
These brave souls, a half-conscious Luna couldn't help but notice, were led by a hard-faced, sunglass-wearing chap from the Ministry's Mauve Ops Division. Now what was it about this fire that required the attention of that menacing, top-secret organization? Hmm…
A young Medical Witch knelt over her and made a few quick, professional sweeps of her springy wand, belying the nervousness in her voice as she commanded, "Resanguinus!" While fresh blood surged through her veins, hot and prickly, Luna set her conspiracy theorizing aside to joke around with the healer a bit and set her at ease. They had a pleasant enough conversation, though it turned out that the medic was a fan of Blodwyn Bludd, whom Luna couldn't stand.
Nearby, someone had brought Lavender a rare steak, which kept her busy while a group of medics squabbled over her. Werewolf physiology was still a poorly understood subject, and none of them were sure whether the dozen-or-so curses she'd racked up as a wolf-monster were still present, dispelled or just hidden. Their conclusion, wholly satisfying to her, was, "We'll just have to see if you keel over or not."
A few hundred yards away, in the middle of a wide clearing in the crowd, the Jordanian Redhood had curled into a cuddly ball of armor, muscle and terrible fangs. Charlie sat cradled on her side, filling out a thick stack of forms and waivers. "Mr. Weasley?" a diminutive Ministry wizard called up to him, then leapt back with a strangled squeak when the dragon sighed and shifted. "Ah, family members here to see you. Please, ah, remember not to divulge any…"
"Yeah, yeah…" Charlie said dismissively, sliding down the dragon's side. "No state secrets, you don't have to… hey, Bill, Fleur! How's it going? It's been ages!" As they approached through the cordon, Charlie (along with every heterosexual male present) forced himself to peel his eyes from Fleur. Though she was normally a vision, she'd become something unbelievable tonight, gliding along in a sparkling black dress that contrasted wonderfully with her silver hair. Bill was well-turned out as well, sporting a red bow tie and his nicest robes, hair done in a tight queue; apparently, whatever they'd been pulled from to see him was important.
The brothers embraced and pounded one another on the back. "Oh, man, you won't believe what you just missed!" Charlie crowed.
"You'll have to tell me all about it," Bill replied easily, ignoring the Ministry wizard's cough. "But don't say anything to Mum. She's livid."
"Yeah…" Charlie averted his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly guilty. "I figured she might be."
"And you know, we've all fought Dark Wizards," Bill continued. "You might have thought to give us a ring."
"I… might have." Now that he thought back, all of Charlie's reasons for not doing so seemed unbelievably weak.
Fleur sensed a potentially awkward conversation brewing and moved to head it off. "And 'oo ees zees?" she asked, gesturing for the dragon, which lifted her head slightly and fixed the couple with a suspicious, blood-red glare.
"Oh, her?" Charlie asked casually, patting the beast's side. "Jordanian Redhood. I was actually going to ask if you guys wanted her for a pet."
"I… what?" Bill gasped.
"Really, I don't zink zat ees…" Fleur started. Her expression suggested that she really wanted to ask if he was insane.
"Oh, come on, she's a big sweetheart! She wouldn't last ten minutes in the wild." Charlie leaned back and stroked the dragon's thick neck. "I was going to name her Ginny."
The dragon lost interest in them and lowered her head with a deep growl, blowing out a long jet of smoke. "Now zat you mention eet," Fleur said thoughtfully, "I do see a resemblance…"
She was interrupted as a vast white condor swept over them, trailing a faint scent of vanilla. This was a dangerous-looking creature, the kind of bird you'd have along if you were going lion hunting and needed help getting your kills back to the lodge. A few of the Aurors milling about went for their wands, but Neville waved them down. "Hold on, mates, I know this bird!"
A few feet before landing, the condor crumpled into a smear of light then resolved into Parvati Patil in wildly billowing white robes, hitting the ground at a run. She pushed her way through the Decumbustors, knocking the Mauve Ops guy's sunglasses off, and threw herself down at Lavender's side, scattering the arguing medics like bowling pins. "You ingrate!" she shrieked.
"It's okay, really…" Lavender started weakly.
"Okay? Okay? For God's sake!" Parvati's voice broke. "It was a full moon and none of us could find you! What the hell were you thinking!?"
"I… look, Luna was here, and there was no one to hurt except for the Death Vomiters, and I think…"
"Oh. Oh! That makes me feel so much better. I see, you were here getting shot at by dark wizards!" Parvati stood and turned away, gripping her forehead. "Fuck! You couldn't at least tell us…?"
"I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. I just, she told me about having to rescue this kid from dark wizards, and I got kind of excited…"
"You're damn right, you weren't thinking! You couldn't even leave a note or something? What were we supposed to-!?" Parvati broke off as a small hand tugged on one of her snowy sleeves. She turned sharply, about to tear the interloper's head off—but came up short when she found herself looking down at a bedraggled, lost-looking Scorpius Malfoy.
"Please don't yell at her, miss. She saved my life," he implored, eyes wide and solemn, lower lip trembling. Watching from the sidelines, Luna suspected that the boy was laying it on a little thick.
"Yeah, well…" Parvati floundered for a moment, then turned back to her friend. Her voice cooled, somewhat. "So do you want to come and tell the others what you've been up to? I'm sure they'll just be thrilled. It isn't easy, becoming an animagus, you know."
"I'm so sorry," Lavender repeated, even more subdued.
"Yeah, well tell them." Parvati helped her up and started to lead her away. "I'll take you home. You must be tired."
Lavender looked to the grass. "Thanks."
"Um, we're not sure if she…" one of the medics started.
"She's fine," Parvati snapped. Their course took them past Luna, and Parvati paused to give her a look that said, "You are the scum of the Earth." Luna had no idea how to respond. In the last-minute flurry of preparing for her mission, it hadn't occurred to her to consider the friends and family of her recruits, and now she was starting to feel pretty awful about it.
"I… I think the ranking Auror will want to debrief…" the medic tried again, but he was interrupted by a harsh condor cry. He could only stand there and sputter as Lavender clambered onto Parvati's back and they took flight together. "Well… fine."
"That was tense," Bill commented uncomfortably, looking up from his forms. The contract was telling him about a stiff tax on any hoards of gold their new pet might gather. He wondered how they might go about collecting it. Behind him, Fleur was stroking the mighty beast's smooth nose, already falling in love.
"So, uh, we're cool, right?" Charlie asked, pointing out another place for him to initial. This would be his agreement to have Ginny spayed. Charlie suddenly wished he'd chosen a different name.
"Sure," Bill gave an easy shrug, initialing without reading. "But don't expect me to protect you from Mum."
There was another round of Apparations, and a crack squad from the Daily Prophet fanned out, press-tabs flapping on their pointed hats, harrying everyone they saw with volleys of questions and flashing cameras. In their wake came three figures, moving much more sedately. Two were the Aurors that had been guarding Kingsley's door, and the last was…
"Father!" Scorpius cried, launching himself into a flying hug. Draco was taken aback at first, but then returned the embrace fiercely. Cameras flashed all around and reporters doubled back to press in on them, stopping just short of the Auror's professional death glares.
"Whelp, my day's made," Neville commented, appearing at Luna's side. He'd had an easier time than the rest of them; as it turned out, his wife was just disappointed that she hadn't gotten to come along. It was an interesting attitude for a former Hufflepuff to take. "How about yours?"
Luna was smiling, but she still said, "Not yet."
"Good to see you, Lovegood," Kingsley greeted as the Auror entered his office for her debriefing. "Back on your feet already, I see."
"Yes," Luna replied. She stood rigidly, with a strange, unyielding look in her eyes.
Kingsley looked at her askance for a moment. "Er, excellent work, yesterday."
"Thank you, sir." Her voice remained cold and inflectionless.
"Is… something on your mind?"
Luna pulled one of her sleeves back to show him a series of strange, looping burns down her forearm. "This."
"You should get that looked at."
"I did," Luna said evenly. "But they had no idea what to make of it, because I couldn't find a medic with a high enough clearance to know about the Heliopath."
For the first time in his political career, Kingsley was struck dumb.
"To think my father died without ever knowing that he was right."
The Minister took off his glasses and massaged his eyelids. There was a pregnant pause while he considered his response. "What's it going to take to keep you quiet?" he finally asked.
Luna stalked forward and slapped her hands down on the desk, stirring the newly restored carpet of papers and leaning into him aggressively. "The Rotfang Conspiracy," she demanded. "Tell me everything!"
Kingsley heaved a deep sigh.
Fin