Like always, the meeting takes place somewhere dark, somewhere dank. The irony is, Voldemort's followers probably met somewhere almost identical, years ago. This group is a sorry one, tired, dirty and angry. Nobody has the strength to shout. Few even have the will to talk.
Everybody is broken, some more than others. Ever since Ginny Weasley died – ever since Ginny Weasley was killed – Harry's had the shortest fuse ever, and Ron won't look at him, won't meet his eye.
Hermione doesn't care anymore, of course. She still fights, perhaps even the hardest of anybody, but it's been far too long since she remembered why. She just sits there, in the back of the meeting, as uncaring as she used to be passionate. All she does is cry tearlessly, silently mouthing the words "Felix, Kreacher," over and over again. It will be a month before the next batch of luck potion is ready, and she can't wait that long for the house-elf to appear with a golden bottle in his hands. She is, at least, more coherent than Luna had been in the weeks before she killed herself with Bellatrix's wand, stolen so long ago when she'd levelled the Malfoy manor just days after being captured.
Arthur – who looks older than even Dumbledore did in death – begins to read out the names of the deceased they've managed to confirm since the last skirmish. It's become traditional to do so at the start of each meeting. Slowly, it's become almost all they do.
When he gets to Draco, Harry turns over a table in protest.
Nobody knows why. Nobody bothers to ask. It's not their business what Harry's doing, or who he's working with. Or rather, it's not their business what Harry's working with, who he's doing.
Arthur carries on. Ron storms from the room in fury when his father lists Fred and George, but Arthur doesn't even pause. The twins have been missing for so long that it's been a foregone conclusion the Weasleys had accepted months ago. Ron, nonetheless, cannot cope. Once the list is complete, the 'real' business of the meeting is addressed. Again, as Arthur drones on, it is clear they've traded the lives of their friends for nothing, not even a single step of progress. Voldemort still has three Horcruxes – the Snake, the diadem and the cup – but nobody has found traces of any. The diadem disappeared the night Voldemort visited Hogwarts. Harry suspects the cup is in Gringotts, or that it was at some point, but that is all they have - suspicions and a forgotten hope.
Nobody, not even the Death Eaters, has seen Nagini in years. Not since Snape committed suicide.
That was the briefest period of hope – after half the Death Eaters had been killed, but before it became clear why. When they found Snape's pensieve at 12 Grimmauld Place, abandoned since the assault on the ministry for the locket, the Order collapsed. Lupin was killed two weeks later, trading his life for Greyback's in a blaze of glory. McGonagall had died silently in her sleep, given up.
Harry never showed every memory Snape left there, but the ones concerning Voldemort's plans, everyone had seen. With the Eldar Wand at his command, there seemed no stopping him. The only hope is that one day, news will come that Voldemort had been betrayed – his hidden Horcuxes somehow unearthed and destroyed by a traitor within his own ranks. Harry said that if they could do that – destroy those three Horcruxes, he'd end it in a flash.
Nobody really knew what he meant.
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Don't own the books, not profiting. Hope you liked it. Reviews are welcome. All that jazz.
~ Quill.