Disclaimer: All characters (except those obviously created by me) and past plot belong to Rowling and the publishers, etc. Don't sue me, please, this is just for some fun, no profit except a few reviews, hopefully.
Summary: This is a one-shot, but long enough to be considered a very short ficlet. It's from the perspective of an outsider of sorts, an original character of mine who works in the Ministry. I made the department up, so please just go along with the flow of my imagination. Well, it's not really a flow, it's more like a roller coaster, but that's beside the point. Please read. I would love to get some feedback on my writing, because I'm always willing to improve, but keep in mind that this is written solely for my artistic expression and your entertainment!
Unexpected Hope
Flyinghigh
Somewhere in the depths of the Ministry of Magic, a stout fellow with an unshaven, stubbly face and curly blond hair scribbled impatiently on a long piece of parchment. He paused in the middle of a sentence to gather his thoughts, allowing his light-colored eyes to glance around him anxiously. The hallway was dim and empty; every office door was shut and locked.
In the mid-morning hours of a Saturday morning, no one but the dedicated ventured into the Department of Muggle Protection. These days all administrative energy focused on a single target: Voldemort. The man swallowed hard when the name slipped into his thoughts, an unwelcome intruder upon a thin plate of ice.
He forced it from his mind, reminding himself of what he was doing. His handwriting covered the paper for nearly a foot, and the top of the parchment curled, casting a pale shadow over his barely legible script. He skimmed a few previous sentences to reclaim his thoughts and finish what he'd started.
It wasn't like he wanted to quit. No, the man genuinely liked his job. He was Muggle-born himself, so the career was a nice fit. The truth of the matter was that the war was becoming far too dangerous to stay here any longer. He had his Muggle wife and baby girl to think about. The Wizarding world was not a safe place for them, especially with regards to the specific terrorist attacks against Muggleborns and known Muggle sympathizers in recent weeks.
Just last week his close colleague Arthur Weasley, head of the sister Department of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts, abandoned his house because of repeated threats against the Weasley family and home. He wasn't sure where they were now, but he sincerely hoped the location was more secure. Arthur was a good man, a man who publicly stood firm against the evil plaguing their society in the form of Lord Voldemort.
How much longer would it be before his family received such threats? A month? A week? Tomorrow? The implications sent frightened shudders through his body. No, he could not be like Arthur. He would take his family and leave the country immediately.
In his absence would be this letter, the details regarding his abrupt leave and the necessary duties of his successor. The job was hardly difficult, except now reports flowed in daily from the Muggle papers and television programs regarding mysterious deaths and illnesses and disappearances, and these all had to monitored carefully. Muggles were feeling the ghastly effects of an unseen foe, yet they were blind in this war, blinded to their enemy and their protectors.
He finished abruptly, and a moment later, just as he was sealing the envelope, a faint gonging noise reverberated through the very walls of the Ministry itself. His whole body grew rigid at the foreboding noise, and his eyes flew up to the large, enchanted parchment attached to the wall. It was there that all messages from the Minister appeared to the lower departments. It was there that he found the latest news from the administration.
But now, this very quiet morning, it began to glow ominously, and thick, black letters scratched themselves into the surface. Urgent, it read. Attack on Diagon Alley in progress. All able persons needed immediately to fight. Signed, Head Auror Reed Whitehart.
The man's hands trembled as he stared at the fading letters. The last color in his once robust cheeks faded. The fight was now a simple pop away. Should he go? What of the letter? As of this moment, he had officially resigned his position. He had no obligation to go. Voldemort and the Death Eaters were someone else's problem now, not his. Why should he get involved?
With no one in his darkened hallway to consult, the decision was his. No one would see him leave, no one could accuse him of cowardice. But he was already crumpling the parchment in his right hand while squeezing his eyes shut. He tossed it aside in a can of trash, then walked swiftly out of his tiny office and down the dim hall, down to the closest Apparating point.
He straightened his back, held his chin high, and thought of his wife and daughter. He would go. He would fight. He had no other choice, really. This evilness must be stopped.
Diagon Alley was in chaos; the streets were rife with hoarse screaming and the pitiful cries of infants. Mothers darted to and fro, searching for their children who, only minutes earlier, had been walking carefree along the bustling alley. A garishly green Dark mark burned the innocent blue sky.
He looked around frantically for other Aurors, for any Ministry workers he recognized, while two figures robed in black were rounding the corner, wands jutting viciously forward.
"Riker!" someone shouted from the shop next to him. Warily keeping an eye on the Aurors, he scrambled towards whoever was calling his name and felt himself pulled in through the slender doors.
It was a man he recognized as an Auror, but what was his name? Bockleshaft? No, that wasn't quite right. Shocklebat? No, that wasn't it either. Shacklebolt? Yes! That was exactly his name!
"I received the Ministry-wide alert," he explained quickly. "What's going on?"
Kingsley Shacklebolt retreated a couple more steps into the shop and peered through the curtained window. The man called Riker strained to look over his shoulder, but Shacklebolt was simply too tall. He instead glanced around at his surroundings, a simple bookshop with assorted school supplies.
"I mean, it's obviously an attack, but is a serious one? I haven't seen a Ministry-wide alert in fifteen years."
"Well, it's serious," the younger man said with a sigh. "We didn't get much notice, and so far we've counted about forty to fifty Death Eaters, probably more behind the shops and in Knockturn Alley."
"Fifty?" Riker repeated incredulously. "You-Know-Who surely wouldn't attack so openly… so brazenly."
Shacklebolt quietly surveyed the emptying street with a stoic face. "He's got nothing to lose at this point, and plenty of fear to gain."
"How many on our side?"
"There's no way of knowing if others came as you did. I'd guess about twenty Aurors with more on the way, and another fifteen able witches and wizards, Dumbledore included."
"Dumbledore! He's here?" Riker exclaimed. His face paled at the thought of Voldemort being brave enough to fight the same vicinity of the most powerful wizard in the world, not unless he reasonably believed himself to be stronger…
"Last I heard, he was in Gringotts," Shacklebolt replied, moving back as someone, no, several someones, slipped past the window and rapped hard on the door.
"Kingsley!" a man on the outside whispered loud enough for those inside to hear.
The Auror relaxed a little and nodded for Riker to open the door for them. The Ministry employee agreed, thinking the unknown voice was oddly familiar. Within seconds five more people ducked inside and glanced around nervously.
"Arthur!" Riker greeted with relief.
His colleague smiled grimly in reply and nodded. "Ed, glad to see some help."
Edward Riker took a deep breath. "Glad to be a help."
"Where's Dumbledore?" Shacklebolt immediately questioned.
"Still in Gringotts. The goblins allowed us to use one of their secured exits to escape, and Dumbledore stayed inside to attract You-Know-Who's attention."
"Is the floo network working yet?" a second Auror asked, though this one Riker didn't recognize. She had cropped black hair and a pearl-drop face, but the beauty of it was marred by her worried expression.
"Not yet, Tonks."
"Then Portkey it is," the woman grumbled.
"Come on, Harry," the remaining man urged. He had brown hair and gentle brown eyes, but his face was weathered and drawn.
But wait… Riker's eyes widened more than a fraction. Did he say Harry? Surely this teenager standing at a slight distance from the group wasn't Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived? He was a bit short and thin for a young man of sixteen, with messy, raven-colored locks that slipped down over his smoldering green eyes, which were focused intently on the obstructed view of the now deserted alley.
"Where are your children, Arthur?" Shacklebolt asked worriedly.
"They went back to headquarters two hours ago. We've been busy in Gringotts this whole time."
Why was Potter spending two hours in Gringotts? Riker idly mused. He didn't allow himself to dwell on it, though, because the conversation continued.
"Tonks, you and Potter need to leave. Remus, you'd better stay with us," a gruff voice commanded. Riker immediately remembered him as Mad-Eye Moody, a bit of legend around the Ministry. He didn't even realize the man was still living, because there hadn't been any articles in the Daily Prophet about him in the past three years or so. Moody was a bit of a running joke these days. And he called that other man Remus, but the name didn't really ring a bell for Riker.
"Right," Tonks replied, turning to Potter. "Let's go, kid."
"Here's the Portkey. It's the last one left, so don't waste it," Kingsley warned.
The female Auror snatched it and turned to the Boy-Who-Lived, rolling her eyes at the teenager.
"Is—Is that legal?" Riker stammered. He knew he shouldn't bring it up, not at a time like this, but surely Aurors wouldn't be using illegal Portkeys and running off with someone like Harry Potter with no orders. Or maybe they did have orders… he clamped his mouth shut and shook his head as if rethinking his question.
"Minister Fudge has been notified," Arthur appeased. "Albus Dumbledore made sure to do so a few weeks ago."
Tonks was in the process of activating the magical device in the guise of a broken Muggle watch. She gave a satisfied nod and tapped it once. "Portus!"
The whole group watched the two of them in those two brief seconds, none of them seeing the congregation of Death Eaters assembling across the alley in the owl emporium. Suddenly, a blast rocked the front of the building and sent everyone hurling backwards with various surprised grunts.
Riker slammed into a bookshelf and fell amongst a clattering of Transfiguration reference books. His head spun for several seconds as the room righted itself again, but the shouts of oncoming Death Eaters forced him into action. A hurried glance around revealed a huge gaping hole where the door and one of the windows had previously been, only a few feet from where he'd been standing. In fact, he'd been the closest to the point of impact, he and Shacklebolt.
A few ripped pages scattered about as he scrambled up and moved to where one of the partially destroyed bookshelves stood in between him and the approaching enemy. He peeked over the top and spotted at least a dozen, maybe fifteen, lurking just past the nonexistent door.
"Harry?!" someone hissed from Riker's left. His stomach flipped over at the thought of the Boy-Who-Lived not escaping this disaster in time.
"Harry, can you hear me?" Arthur Weasley called out as loud as he dared.
"Didn't he get out?"
"I don't know," the man called Remus responded. "The blast happened about the same time."
"I'm here," someone panted, struggling to uncover himself from a pile of books.
"What happened?"
"The Portkey was ripped out of my hand. I think Tonks went with it, but I'm not sure," Potter answered just as a yellow streak of light collided with a painting on the wall and destroyed it completely, leaving only a black rift in its place.
All of them crouched down lower and drew their wands. Kingsley quickly surveyed the damage and checked the rear of the store for Death Eaters, then the Auror then hurried back up to a spot beside Riker.
"Are they coming any closer?" he asked.
Riker shook his head. "I don't think so. They're waiting on something."
"That's odd."
Another spell ricocheted off one of the standing bookshelves, sending dozens of schoolbooks clattering to the floor. The Death Eater who cast it peeked in just so the group could see the corner of his black hood, but nothing more.
"Potter, we know you're in there!" the cloaked man shouted. "We outnumber all of you, so save us the trouble of killing you all off one by one and just come out unarmed!"
"Harry Potter's not here!" Arthur Weasley threw back at him.
"We saw him walk through this door. Now hand him over."
"I repeat, he's not here. He Portkeyed out just before you attacked!"
The Death Eater chuckled sharply and shook his head. "I performed the Locator Spell just now. He's in there, all right."
"You don't think we could fool a simple spell like that?" Kingsley retorted.
A few of the Death Eaters murmured softly, but Riker didn't sense any uncertainty; instead it sounded like they were mapping out a battle plan. He wiped a sweaty palm on his robes and gripped his wand again.
Minutes passed in the eerie silence, but none of the Death Eaters seemed to be in a hurry. As for those inside the shop, they were effectively trapped. The back alley was certain to be monitored by Eaters, and probably patrolled as well, and it only led to the back street of Knockturn Alley, which would hardly be an improvement from their current situation. Secondly, how would they manage to escape with six people at once?
Arthur crawled towards them stealthily and slipped beside Riker and worriedly exchanged glances with Kingsley, then Potter and the man Lupin were close to follow. Mad-Eye Moody magically moved a pile of shelves to cover them.
"What should we do? The back exit isn't an option, and the six of us can't taken on that many," Arthur began.
"If we wait much longer, they'll have reinforcements." Shacklebolt grimly shook his head. "I contacted another Auror a few minutes ago, but a fight's raging over at Gringotts and they can't spare anyone."
"We need a diversion," Harry muttered. "At least one that would take away half of the Death Eaters here. Then we would stand a chance."
"Diversion?" Arthur repeated thoughtfully. He then brightened and look at Shacklebolt. "Can you contact Tonks?"
Kingsley flicked his wand while softly saying, "Aurora commus Tonks." A greyish blue mist hung lightly in the air between them.
"Tonks? Can you hear me?" the Auror whispered, seemingly to nothing.
A couple seconds later a feminine voice crossly replied, "Yeah, I hear you, Kingsley."
"Where are you?"
"I was Portkeyed outside headquarters, so I had to Apparate back, but the closest I could get was Tom's place. Are you still at Flourish's? I'm trying to get back there, but it's taking me a while. The Death Eaters are everywhere."
Kingsley nodded, even though his companion couldn't see him. "Okay, hold on a minute." He turned to Arthur and frowned. "What's your plan?"
"Tell her to morph into Harry's form, then attract the Death Eaters' attention from this shop somehow. Fire a spell, anything will work. Hopefully they'll at least be confused and split up."
Potter was shaking his head emphatically. "Tonks can't do that. If they see her, they'll try to kill her on the spot. It's too dangerous."
"Harry, our lives are all threatened," Remus pointed out. "They wouldn't hesitate to kill any of us."
"You have to admit I'm a big target. They'll stop at nothing to get me," the teenager argued. Riker watched him carefully, gauging his reaction with difficulty. It was obvious he felt strongly about the welfare of his friends, but it didn't show on his stoic face. Riker frowned, sad to see such a worn expression on so young a face.
"If we don't do this, then we're all probably dead," Kingsley insisted.
Potter glanced towards the front and shook his head. "I know. It's just that I have a bad feeling about this."
The Auror didn't respond, though Riker noticed Remus and Arthur both seemed a little perturbed by that admission. Kingsley proceeded to relay all of the plans to Tonks, ending with explicit instructions to do nothing that would put her directly in harm's way, although Riker found that a bit ironic.
"I'll do my best," came the woman's reply, though she sounded a bit hesitant. "I have to be honest. Cross-gender morphing is really difficult, and I can only keep it up for a few minutes."
"Hopefully that's all we'll need," Auror Shacklebolt said.
"Okay. I'll be there in two or three minutes."
The communication ended abruptly and the sixsome spread back out again so they would not be so easy to target. Riker counted under his breath, finally reaching two hundred when he heard several Death Eaters shuffling around outside and whispering loudly.
"There he is," one of them exclaimed.
"That's not him."
"I can see him!"
"It's not Potter. The boy's inside this building. You all saw him go in, and there's an anti-Apparating shield up. He's still inside."
"You want our master thinking you were too stupid to capture a teenager right under your nose? He won't be happy," another growled.
"Why would he be alone? And why would he even be outside instead of hiding like he should be?"
"I think he's trying to get to us. Don't you remember last time? The dark lord says he loves playing the hero. Looks like he's doing the same thing now."
"No. He's inside, all right."
"Look! He just went into that joke shop, the one owned by those Weasley twins! That makes sense, you know. He's friends with that family. What if they're building some type of resistance in there?"
"We already have three people monitoring it. That was one of the first places the dark lord told us to look for Potter."
Riker stole a glance at Arthur, whose face paled slightly at the comment. His sons owned that shop. He hoped they got out in time.
The voices raised a notch or so as the argument continued, but suddenly a hush settled over their ranks. A few long seconds passed while Riker wondered if some of them had left. He didn't dare to peek out, in case he was wrong, but why else would they get so quiet?
Potter let out a soft gasp and flinched, but Riker couldn't see what was wrong. No curse had been fired, and nothing else could have triggered such a reaction. Kingsley, however, seemed to understand what that meant, and Riker definitely saw a new shade of trepidation color his face.
"Kingsley, it's not working," Remus muttered over to them. "They're not taking the bait, and I have a feeling worse problems are on the way."
Potter let out a low hiss, and Riker could barely hear Arthur murmuring something to him. What was causing the boy such pain? Something was coming… A terrible, icy sensation seeped into his skin, right down to the very bone, and goose bumps sprouted on his arms and neck.
Riker had never been close to a dementor before, but he recognized the chilling effects almost immediately. But he hadn't heard of such raw power vibrating in the air around those retched creatures; the darkness seemed to burn with energy as three dementors floated inside and hovered, their robes fluttering like old tattered curtains hanging from a window of a haunted house.
"Do not touch the boy," an ethereal voice hissed from only meters away. Another shiver passed through Riker's body. The very words sounded like those of a snake, and he could not bear to lay his eyes upon the speaker, for he knew very well who it would be. That's who was generating such power.
Voldemort.
"Take the rest, but the boy is mine," the wizard ordered.
Sweat broke out across Riker's brow, but he would not be taken quite so easily. He wasn't a powerful wizard by any means, but he was certainly not a coward. As distant memories of an ostracized childhood came rushing back as the dementors pressed forward, he forced them from his mind and ignored the despair welling within him.
"Expecto patronum!" Remus yelled out, and Arthur was quick to follow. A shadowy wolf and a just-recognizable bear leaped forward to dispel the dark creatures, but the dementors only retreated a few feet. Voldemort was close behind them, seemingly feeding them, or urging them forward somehow. Riker couldn't believe that these terrible things would take orders from anyone, they were so untamed and monstrous.
With their magical energy momentarily sapped, both Arthur and Remus ducked back down to allow Moody and Shacklebolt a try. Without hesitating, Riker joined them. He'd never conjured a corporeal patronus before, but he could certainly do his part in attempting to deflect them.
Sure enough, a light mist spewed forth from his wandtip, but it was nothing to scoff at. Moody produced an impressive hawk, while Kingsley's was a fox. Both of them charged the dementors, again pushing them back, but moments later the creatures pressed onward again, now only a few steps away.
He could hear a deathly rattling noise so close to his ear, like dead leaves swept across pavement by a wintry breeze, and the terrible cold wormed its way deeper into his being.
"Expecto patronum!" another voice cried out, though Riker was shocked to turn and see Potter directing his spell, not towards the dementors, but to him. He balked as a bright light nearly blinded him and a ghost-like creature galloped right for him. The animal was nearly on him now, the hooves soundless yet appearing extremely sharp. The stag leaped over him and Riker pressed himself against the remnants of shelves on the floor so he would not be struck.
As soon as the patronus passed by, Riker turned to see it rearing in front of a dementor only inches behind him. He saw a rotting hand protruding from the end of the black cloak, causing his stomach to churn. Had that dementor been about to administer the Kiss? Riker shuddered at the terrifying thought. Harry Potter had just done him a great service, practically saving his life, and he turned to give him a grateful look, but Potter was already focused on another problem: Voldemort.
"Expecto patronum!" Remus and Kingsley both shouted, then Harry and Moody both followed. Arthur and Riker were last, and collectively the Light power was enough to drive the dementors to a safe distance, leaving the vile wizard standing tall with his minions to both his left and right.
"It seems you are vastly outnumbered and now drained of energy," Voldemort announced, "so it would be in your best interest to surrender. Hand over Potter, and I will allow you to live. Doing otherwise will most certainly end in your deaths."
"We're not doing that," Kingsley answered, though less vindictive than when talking to the Death Eaters earlier.
Voldemort smirked maliciously. "I'm afraid you have no choice in the matter. At least not regarding me taking Potter."
Riker clutched his wand harder than ever now, so hard that his white knuckles began to ache. How were they to get out of this mess? They stood no chance against the numerous Death Eaters, even more than just minutes ago. And Voldemort was a formidable enemy even by himself…
"Hey, Voldemort, I think you're looking for me," Potter shouted, though when Riker glanced over at the teenager in shock, he saw nothing but a confused expression on his face. No fear, at least not visibly, just confusion.
The voice came from the front of the room, on the other side of the Death Eaters. A slow parting of the gathering revealed Harry Potter standing with his green eyes blazing and his wand drawn. Voldemort paused, measuring up this new development. His eyes flickered to the back of the store for a brief moment, then turned to the newcomer.
Tonks, Riker realized. She was taking an enormous risk at the moment, and he wasn't too sure what she was trying to accomplish. Dementors and, undoubtedly, Death Eaters lurked in the alley behind them. How were they to escape?
"I wasn't aware you could Apparate without making a sound, even when blocked by anti-Apparation wards," Voldemort drawled, seemingly humored by the situation and in no way threatened. "It seems Hogwarts has raised the standard of education in the last fifty years."
"Well, yes, but perhaps you have heard of a Portkey?" Tonks responded. "Now, you have me, so release them."
Voldemort shook his head. "I don't think that is an option." He slowly approached Tonks, his eyes narrowed in shrewd concentration. As he got closer and closer, Tonks held her ground, but Riker could see the fear in her eyes. And who wouldn't be afraid of such an atrocious creature? He stood unusually tall, and the slitted red eyes made him seem serpentine and evil, and the radiating power was phenomenal.
Finally, Voldemort was directly in front of Tonks when his lips quirked upwards. "I believe you are mistaken. I was looking for Harry Potter."
"And you have me," Tonks retorted in her best impression of Harry.
Suddenly the wizard grabbed Tonks' chin and lifted it upwards so the pseudo-Harry's face would look directly into his own. "You are most certainly not Potter. That pathetic boy cannot stand to look me in the eye or touch my skin for the pain, and you are immune."
"I can hide my pain well enough. I've had years to practice," Tonks quipped.
"Oh, is that so?" Voldemort murmured, casting her aside. "Then let's get this over with, then. A few minutes of the Cruciatus should give you some additional practice. Crucio!"
Riker cringed as the red spell struck the Auror in the chest after it smashed right through her quick shielding charm as if was made of paper. He tore his eyes away from the excruciating sight, although he could not escape from the muted screams, and looked at the real Harry Potter hiding between Arthur and Remus. The boy had turned a bit pale, but his face was set and positively angry. Riker had seen plenty of frustrated arguments in the office and had been a victim of many a fight with his wife, yet this quiet display of fury ran deeper than anything he'd felt or witnessed.
"Now," Voldemort hissed, "care to tell me who you really are? And do not lie to me. Harry Potter is hiding away in the back somewhere, you and I both know that."
Tonks' eyes flashed angrily at him, despite the fact that she was struggling to get her breath. "I told you before. I'm Harry Potter. Whoever you saw come in here wasn't me."
"You fool!" Voldemort barked. "Perhaps you'll be a lesson to Dumbledore and the rest of them! Avada ked—"
"WAIT!"
Voldemort stopped abruptly and turned to face whoever had spoken to him. Riker quivered as those piercing crimson eyes swept past him and over to where Potter sat shaking with white-hot anger. Remus was glaring at him, though with a pleading look in his eye that clearly begged Potter not to do what was coming. Arthur had a firm grip on the boy's arm, his face a reflection of his companion's.
"Yes, Potter?" Voldemort purred.
The Boy-Who-Lived shook off his protector's arm with difficulty and rubbed his wand with his right thumb. Riker sat frozen as the rather scrawny teenager started to stand. There was nothing impressive about him, except perhaps the emerald eyes and lightning-shaped scar. He wasn't exactly skinny, but Riker felt that he had been at one point in his life, and now he would never be anything but slender, with thin muscles that allowed for agility but not strength. How could this boy, even if he did survive You-Know-Who as a child, possibly stand up to such a monster?
"What do you want with me, Riddle?" Potter demanded with a weary twinge to his voice.
Voldemort smirked knowingly. "Ah, yes. I've been searching for you, Potter. It seems you don't get out much, so it took me quite some time to track you down."
"Get to the point," Potter snapped. Riker expected Voldemort to end his young life then and there with such a disrespectful command, but instead the dark wizard cackled softly.
"As you wish, Potter. I have come in search of the prophecy. Tell me what it says, and I shall let you friends go free, completely unharmed."
"Thanks for the offer, but I can't help you," Potter answered dully. "I don't know the prophecy."
Voldemort shook his head angrily. "Of course you know. That old fool would not keep such information from you."
"If I had known the prophecy, I never would have gone to the Department of Mysteries and gotten my own godfather killed, now would I? Besides, Bella saw it smash into pieces. Ask her, she's probably here, aren't you, Lestrange? After that mess you think Dumbledore would trust me with the prophecy? He won't so much as look at me now!" Harry spat vehemently. "He won't even tell anyone else the prophecy for fear that they'll tell me!"
A few long seconds passed as Voldemort measured up his young target carefully. Riker himself was stunned by the loathing in the boy's voice. How could anyone hate Dumbledore so much? The man was a legend, the most powerful wizard in the world! He defeated Grindewald all those years ago, and fought against Voldemort in the first war, and here was the Boy-Who-Lived ranting passionately about the old wizard.
"Well, we'll just have to see about that, won't we?" Voldemort finally muttered. "Legilimens!"
The spell was spoken harshly, but Riker felt sure he recognized it as an old curse designed to read minds. It took a powerful wizard to use it, and a powerful one to block it.
Potter made no attempts to magically shield himself from Voldemort's curse, which Riker thought was foolish. Surely the boy did not think himself capable of fighting off such a dark wizard without magic? Or maybe he did… this was the Boy-Who-Lived after all.
Harry squeezed his eyes shut and put his hands up to his ears as if to block out noise, but Riker could hear nothing except the boy's rapid breathing and the low moans that escaped his lips. Riker nervously looked at Voldemort, whose eyes were narrowed in concentration. Shouldn't he do something? Why weren't the boy's protectors doing something?!
Then again, if they even uttered a syllable of a spell, a Death Eater would strike them with some curse, perhaps the Killing curse. They were more good to Potter alive than dead, so at this point, they had no choice but to sit back and watch. If Voldemort tried to kill Harry, then they would act, but for now…
Potter slowly sank to his knees, trembling and sweating while the mental anguish churned within him. Riker shuddered to think what it was like to have the most evil wizard alive searching through his mind like flipping the pages in a book. And the seconds kept slipping by without any whisper of movement.
"Enough!" Harry finally gasped while shaking his head firmly. "Protego!" he shouted. The golden shield flickered into existence and caused Voldemort to break his concentration and end the spell. "I said that's enough. You found what you were looking for, didn't you?"
Voldemort's lipless mouth curled downward. "You insolent little fool! I should kill you right now."
Harry shook his head a couple of times. "Neither of us knows the prophecy, so I don't think that's such a good idea. For all we know, we're destined to be allies."
"Highly unlikely," Voldemort scoffed.
"Yet possible," Potter pointed out.
Appearing angrier than ever during the present encounter, Voldemort bared his teeth and hissed in frustration. "Well, there's nothing to stop me from killing your friends, is there?"
Harry tightened his grip on his wand. "Just me. And I'm sure they'll have something to say about it. Are you so ready to risk killing me for a few meaningless deaths? You've managed to attack Diagon Alley and put fear back in people's minds, isn't that enough?" The teenager stepped over a pile of debris and walked a few paces to where he was only a few feet from Voldemort. Riker's eyes were wide in shock, and Remus seemed on the verge of jumping out to grab the teenager… or strangle him.
"Perhaps you are more intelligent than I once gave you credit for," Voldemort replied. "You make a good argument, yet I believe you forgot one factor in your equation."
"Oh?" Harry said, not stepping back.
The wizard suddenly reached forward, seized him by the throat tightly, and whispered something in his ear. Riker strained to make out what it was, but none of the words reached his ears. Voldemort then pushed the teenager away from him and smirked.
Harry appeared absolutely livid, and Riker clutched at the mangled bookcase as the room's temperature flared, and the chill of the dementors finally ebbed away. He thought he'd felt a tiny tremor, but surely that had been his imagination.
"You touch any of my friends, and you will not live another day," Potter snarled.
Voldemort cocked his head to the side slightly while his shrewd eyes bore into Potter's. "That was an impressive bit of unintentional magic, Potter, but nothing compared to my own power. Threatening me is futile if you do not have the means to follow through."
"But do you want to take the chance that I do have the means?" Harry replied.
Riker could have sworn he saw the faintest change in Voldemort's snide expression, but he dismissed it as the fruit of his nervous imagination.
"Until we speak again, Harry Potter," the wizard concluded, choosing not to respond to Potter's threats. He motioned to his followers with a quick wave of the hand. "Give Dumbledore my best."
With a snap of his fingers, a crack, and a flash of light, Voldemort disappeared. His Death Eaters then receded quickly from the room into the street, scattering in various directions to return to their other lives.
The store was deathly quiet as Potter stared through the gaping front of the building until they had all vanished. Then he tucked his wand safely back into its holder and hurried over and kneeled down next to Tonks, who was still on the ground though she had moved a few meters out of Voldemort's line of sight. Kingsley and Moody were the next to recover and check on her, and by the time Riker stumbled over to her, she had changed back to her natural appearance.
"Think you can stand?" Kingsley asked worriedly.
Tonks accepted his hand and pulled herself up with a grimace.
"You know, I don't think I've seen what you actually look like," Potter said.
She tucked a loose strand of black hair behind her ear and shrugged. "I like to keep a good disguise going."
A morphmagus, then, Riker reasoned.
"You were supposed to attract their attention, not come barging in. What do you think you were doing?" Potter chided. "It's a good way to get yourself killed!"
The female Auror, now looking a bit stronger, tossed her head in irritation. "And what exactly were you doing? Dumbledore's going to be furious with you."
"We could just keep this whole confrontation to ourselves," Harry suggested.
Riker nearly choked. "You can't be serious!"
Potter glanced over at him, not really sure about the stranger, and then shrugged casually. "I don't think we've been introduced. I'm Harry Potter."
"I'm Ed Riker," the Ministry employee answered, though he was still in a mild state of shock.
Harry nodded knowingly. "Seeing Voldemort the first time is a little unsettling."
"That's an understatement," Arthur muttered before turning to his colleague. "I hope the experience is the last for you, Ed."
"I hope so too," he replied honestly. Immediately he felt a bit guilty, because those standing around him were certain to meet him again in their line of work. And Potter? It seemed that boy was destined to fight You-Know-Who.
"Now, Harry, about your actions," Arthur continued, eyeing the teenager sternly, "you behaved far too recklessly."
"Let's discuss this later when we're back at headquarters," Moody growled. "We need to start moving. Kingsley, go see if the floo network is still down. If it is, we'll try to make our way back to Gringott's."
Kingsley disappeared into a back room and checked the fire there, then returned with a shake of his head. "It's not working yet. It will probably be a few hours before it's running again."
"Then that's settled. We will return to Gringott's. If there is still fighting, then we'll decide what to do then. Let's go."
The small band of wizards and one witch traveled soundless through the quiet alley and in the general direction of Gringott's. Riker could see the top of the building clearly, but he could hear no sounds of battle still raging. The scene was nothing like an hour ago when he arrived to hear screams and small explosions. Now debris littered the streets where some stores had been attacked, and a few bodies sprawled lifelessly on the ground.
"Dad!"
Riker jumped at the sudden noise. Across the street a young man was peering outside of a shop door; the red hair signaled to him right away who it was. They crossed the street quickly and slipped inside Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes.
"Fred, George!" Arthur greeted with relief. "I'm glad to see you are both okay."
"You too," one of the twins replied.
The other nodded. "We tried to get out to help fight, but Death Eaters were guarding both the front and the back. We hid in one of the trick trunks until they left a few minutes ago."
"That's okay," Arthur consoled, seeing their slightly guilty looks. "You're safe, and that's what matters."
"We were worried they were trying to ambush you," Fred continued. "It's a good thing you didn't try to come here."
"Come on," Tonks motioned with a jab of her thumb. "We're headed to Gringotts. Do you know if the fighting is over?"
"We can't hear anymore," George replied as they cautiously left the store.
"Did you see Flourish and Blott's? That place was nearly destroyed," Fred said, letting out a low whistle.
Riker shared a glance with Arthur, who merely said, "We saw."
A minute or so later Kingsley ran up ahead and darted around a corner, only to quickly reappear and motion them to follow him. When Riker rounded the bend he saw a dozen or so bodies stretched out at the steps of the wizarding bank, none of them moving. A wizard was quickly approaching them after sharing a few words with the head Auror. Riker recognized him as the highly praised Albus Dumbledore. Of course, the Prophet and Minister Fudge had tried to tarnish his image the year before, but Riker had never believed that rubbish. Dumbledore was the greatest wizard in centuries and would be the one to get them through this war.
"Thank goodness you are all safe," Dumbledore greeted. "I feared you had not escaped in time."
"We didn't exactly escape, Albus," Moody said. "We'll explain later, but I think it's a good idea if Potter was taken back to headquarters."
"Of course," Dumbledore agreed. He reached in his pocket to withdraw an empty bottle of what appeared to have been mouthwash. "Remus, you and Harry go back. We should return shortly. I think the Aurors have everything under control."
Remus nodded and took the proffered Portkey. He and Harry both grabbed hold and, after activating it, disappeared with a sudden jerking motion.
"I don't believe we have met," Dumbledore said, his cerulean blue eyes resting on the only non-Order member. "I am Albus Dumbledore."
"Edward Riker," the man answered promptly. "I'm an undersecretary for the Department of Muggle Protection. An alert was sent around the Ministry this morning, and I answered it."
Dumbledore nodded. "We appreciate the support, Mr. Riker."
"Of course."
Arthur turned to him and smiled somewhat grimly. "I'd say the fighting is over, so you should be able to return home now. That is, if the anti-Apparation ward has been lifted."
"It has," the eldest wizard said. "Feel free to leave. I hope the next time we meet is not under such circumstances."
Riker nodded and then said his good-byes to Arthur before heading back in the other direction. He went a few steps around the corner, closed his eyes and concentrated on what his foyer looked like. With a soft sucking sensation he floated through nothing for a moment, then his feet planted on a hard surface.
"Ed? Ed, is that you?" a woman's voice rang out through the quaint house. "It's about time! I expected you home nearly an hour ago!"
Riker forced himself to move through the small entranceway and into the living room, then from there into the kitchen where his wife and daughter sat enjoying lunch.
"There you are. Sit down and have some lunch, dear." The fair-haired woman looked up from her meal to smile at her husband, but her expression quickly turned to alarm. "What happened? Your cheek is bleeding, and you're filthy!"
Riker stood there, his soft eyes fixed on his curly-haired daughter. She was so young, so completely innocent from the wickedness of the world. If he took his family and left now, what would that teach her? Would she learn to stand up and fight for herself, or would she run because the danger was so great?
"Here, hold this cloth on your cheek," his wife instructed. "I'll take you to the bathroom upstairs and clean it." She pulled him gently away from his daughter and up the steps and into the master bathroom.
"What happened?" she repeated, this time more firmly yet softly.
Riker sighed and took her hand in his. "There was an attack on Diagon Alley this morning."
Her mouth widened into a small 'o' of surprise. "Was anyone hurt?"
The man nodded. "Several people died. I don't know how many were hurt."
"Why were you at Diagon Alley?"
"There was an alert at the Ministry, so I went to help."
"How many Death Eaters were there?"
"Far more than I think Fudge would like to admit. Maybe fifty."
His wife sat down on the floor and wiped a tear from her eye. "What should we do, Ed? You-Know-Who's only going to get stronger, and already he's daring enough to attack Diagon Alley in the middle of a Saturday!"
He looked into her blue eyes and allowed himself to smile slightly. "You-Know-Who may get stronger, but I'm staying to fight. If I don't, then I'll never be able to look my daughter in the eye again."
She glanced up with watery eyes. "I understand, I really do. But if he's getting stronger, will Dumbledore be able to stop him?"
Riker's gaze focused above her, looking at nothing in particular. On his lips was a ghostly and knowing smile. "Dumbledore won't defeat You-Know-Who."
"What?" his wife breathed. "What chance do we have then? Who else could?"
"Harry Potter, love. Harry Potter will one day defeat him."
Please take the time to review! Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful day!
Flyinghigh