This story is a collaborative effort between E. Elizabeth (SilvyrWing) and M. Li. We worked on this story over the course of a month in January 2005, and with several edits, we now feel comfortable posting it. Though Harry Potter's endeavor to reach Lord Voldemort is a critical issue in the story, we've chosen to focus on those that got left behind, and the underlying motives of Voldemort and his followers as discovered through the course of this text. We hope you enjoy.

Thanks,

E. and M.

Chapter One

It was a bit morbid, yes, but she had to know what happened or what would happen, or... Well, a number of other things. Still, the realization that it was just a dream was enough to grab all her senses and pull Daphne back to wakefulness. She wasn't out in the courtyard - not tonight, anyway. She'd been exhausted. One of the others directed her to the castle to get a good rest, and while there really weren't any designated dormitories anymore, she'd ended up in the Slytherin common room.

It used to be so beautiful, but the tapestries were gone now. Most of them were being used as blankets for the refugees out on the Hogwarts grounds. Despite His power, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named still couldn't penetrate the defenses of the wizarding school, which had now become a fortress. It was still safe here. Then again, they seemed to be surrounded; every time someone left the grounds to try to strike out on their own, they vanished. It was assumed that they either joined the other side or they were eliminated for refusing. It seemed like no one knew what to do.

Daphne swung her feet over the couch, coughing at the cloud of dust that accompanied the movement, and shivering when her skin touched the bare floor. The area rugs, too, were gone. She could almost see them again, the silver threads catching the light from the fire...

The fire was out now, too.

Her mind returned to the dream. Despite the fact that it couldn't have happened, it had been quite real. Michael, killed by Death Eaters. Had it been a vision? She pushed herself to her feet, knees still aching from running around the day before. It hadn't seemed important at first, but veterinarians were becoming more and more important as the school's thestrals, hippogriffs, and other large creatures were used as beasts of burden. She could see the thestrals now of course, which is why she'd been able to picture them so clearly in the dream. Then again, there weren't many people anymore that couldn't see them.

That didn't really matter, though. What did matter was that she had to find Michael.

As she slipped into her clothing, she tried to think rationally. She had never had a vision before. It seemed unlikely that she was having one now. She was probably just shell shocked from the news of the most recent attack on Hogsmeade. She repeated this to herself over and over as she buttoned up her robes and climbed out the portrait hole.

Still, as much as she told herself that it was nothing but a dream, and that Michael (or "Mikey" as she preferred to call him) was alive and well in his own section of the castle, it was the sort of dream that continues to terrify even after one is awake until the person afflicted is found alive and well in the waking world. Somehow she felt stupid running around like this, as though she were five years old and running off to her parents in the middle of the night.

Not surprisingly, she wasn't the only one out in the hall tonight, and even though she did let a soft gasp of alarm, she wasn't wholly surprised by the arms that grabbed her from behind. Obviously, Death Eaters don't waste time embracing their victims, and only one person would dare even try to touch her like this. For a moment, she allowed herself a glimpse of relief, but his arms weren't quite enough. She wanted to see his face, just to make sure. No harm in that, after all.

She pulled away and turned to Mikey. "I thought you might be helping out with patrol," she said, trying to sound as casual as she could despite the fact that her pulse was still erratic with the remnants of the dream that kept popping up behind her eyes every other heartbeat.

For a moment, Michael looked confused that she'd pull away, but then he offered her a crooked smile. Reassuring, in a way... To see him standing there, alive and smiling. "...Of course I am. We're all Prefects now, I guess. I don't even envy Anthony anymore... I think I'd rather be asleep." He backed away a few steps, leaning against the wall and playing with the loose dust settled on the stone. It flaked off, crumbling to the floor where it added to the already growing piles there. No one really thought of cleaning up anymore.

Daphne couldn't really decipher his mood. He wasn't looking at her, but he wasn't really looking away, either. Again, she pictured the halls, full of pictures and tapestries and sometimes the ghosts... But now, the only familiar thing that remained was the torchlight. It seemed so bare.

Maybe she'd finally cracked. Maybe she was still dreaming. It didn't seem possible for Hogwarts to be in such disrepair, and... After her dream, it didn't seem possible for Michael to be standing here. So she stared.

Again, he looked confused as he looked around. As if she'd be looking at anyone else, Daphne thought to herself as she smiled. He asked, "What?"

A couple steps later, she had his hand. "Nothing," she said. "I just had a dream."

The look he gave her was dubious at best, but he didn't hold it for long, instead returning his attention to his further destruction of the castle walls. It was times like this when he drove her insane. The less he said, well, it was obvious he was feeling put out about something, but since he wasn't really offering, she couldn't for the life of her figure it out and even with the relief of seeing him alive and well and not dying on the Great Hall floor... Well, it was annoying.

She must have looked it, too, because he finally stepped away from the wall and dusted his hands off, offering her another lop-sided grin and brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Somehow she thought there might have been something a little stiff about the gesture.

"Well, I suppose you have them every night. What's special about this one?" he asked, and she flinched slightly as once again, his silent, struggling face again swimming in her vision. IT WAS NOT A VISION! She took a deep breath.

"Nothing. It was just weird. So..." she paused, trying to decide whether to ask him what was bothering him or not, but just at that moment, footsteps echoed at the other end of the hall and male voices could be heard.

The voices were faint at first, but they eventually resolved themselves into something more recognizable. There were two that she could tell, but three sets of footsteps. It was weird how she was starting to pick up on that now... The number of people walking, and how her mind was weighing the odds should she and Michael have to fight. However, that wouldn't be necessary, as the two voices belonged to Terry Boot and Seamus Finnigan. And while Daphne wasn't Finnigan's biggest fan, he was an ally.

The three sets of footsteps rounded a corner, and Daphne saw that the third belonged to Terry's younger sister, Merry. Meredith, really, though no one ever called her that. Sadly, she knew just about as many defensive curses and hexes as Daphne did, even if she was only technically a first year. Not that it mattered now, since there probably wouldn't be any more classes at Hogwarts in the coming years. She was still wearing her House colors, though. Red and Gold. She was a Gryffindor... No one really minded anymore, though. There were barely any lines drawn between the houses now that the war was in full swing.

Daphne offered the a wave, as did Michael. As much as she wanted to try to figure out what was on Michael's mind, Daphne knew it would have to wait - again. Everything personal had to be set aside for the sake of the war.

Finnigan offered a curt nod to Daphne, and barely acknowledged Michael. Terry was the one that spoke to them first. "There's a meeting out in the courtyard," he said. "They're thinking of sending the recent graduates out on perimeter patrols now. You two should get out there."

"We've been lookin' all o'er the castle," Seamus grumbled. Even Daphne had to admit he looked a lot more defeated than he should have. "Lookin' for people too scared t'be out there themselves. Sure an' we found you, Greengrass. Corner." Terry elbowed him, and Daphne automatically put out a hand to stay Michael, just in case. Not that she thought they'd fight now.

"Fine, we'll be off then," Michael replied curtly, looking to Terry rather than Seamus. Daphne sighed. At least they had learned not to be at one another's throats. One would think that Michael would be able to give up personal animosities given the fact they were in a war, but such had never been the case. She tugged at his sleeve, and the two departed from Terry, Seamus, and Merry, making their way down the broken stairs and out through the doors into the black and navy lines and lumps of the grounds.

She considered asking him again then what he was worrying over. He was never polite to Finnigan, but he usually was less snappish than that, meaning that something really was bothering him. However, as they walked half-blind across the courtyard and headed for the area surrounding the Pitch... or what was the Pitch. It was just a muddy field now.

They didn't light their wands. It was better to allow their eyes to adjust to the light--if there was anyone around, it would give them the one-up on their opponent. Daphne wished, not for the first time, that she wasn't forced to constantly think in this paranoid manner. She was already jumpy enough having to go out and run around in the dark where Death Eaters were probably lying in wait--she'd always been terribly afraid of encountering He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his followers--but at least she had Michael with her. Though a sullen Michael Corner was hardly on top of his game.

They picked their way through the mud, the only sound the popping suck of their shoes as they dragged them up out of the muck. They could probably get away with talking--it seemed on a starry, warm summer night like this, that Death Eaters were not going to attack--but Daphne realised that was wishful thinking, and she well knew speaking was a liability.

They passed where the Ravenclaw stands used to be, and she saw him pause midstep for just an instance and glance up, but it was so fast that for a moment she wasn't sure she'd seen it at all. The fields ahead of them were flat--heading out towards mountains and forest. They knew better than to get too far from here. No one would see the sparks if there was trouble.

They paused about fifty yards away from the pitch.

Looking out there was looking into the unknown. Anything past the Quidditch pitch was off-limits for the refugees and those that were staying out of the war... Usually either the very old or the very young. This marked the first time she'd been asked to patrol, which caused her to wonder whether or not those who had more experience were starting to run out of resources. Sure, she'd done her part on the grounds... Everyone did. But this was different. This was dark.

She didn't take Michael's hand, as much as she wanted to. They both had to have full mobility should there be an attack or trouble or whatever else there could be. She did, however, nudge his arm with her shoulder, perhaps to reassure herself that he was there, or reassure him that she was there...

As they stood there, Daphne looked up at him. Perhaps it was the lack of light, but every time she saw him, he looked older. She couldn't help feeling that they should both be out having fun... After all, they were both old enough now, and would be graduating in another month if one were to place faith in technicalities. Which made her remember...

Standing in one spot for this long was dangerous, so she started moving again. She could feel the border of Hogwarts even if she couldn't see it. A magical barrier that she couldn't quite describe. It was comforting to know it was there even if it wouldn't help. Breaking the silence, she whispered to Michael, "What day is today?"

He looked down at her, seemingly a bit surprised that she'd speak. After a moment, he answered, "The fourteenth. May. I think... As long as it's after midnight."

Daphne nodded, continuing on in silence for a while. "My birthday."

He looked surprised and guilty, just like she knew he would. Perhaps it was the Slytherin blood flowing through her veins, but she couldn't help but take some amusement at his somewhat predictable reaction. Michael was not someone she could easily predict, and so any time when she did get it right, she felt she ought to congratulate herself.

"I forgot," he said after a moment, and for just the briefest few seconds, she slipped her hand in his and squeezed. Just to let him know it was all right, to put him back in a better mood, because if they were attacked while he was overthinking something...

He lowered his voice as they continued to trudge across the grounds, and she could just make out the outline of the castle well enough to know that they were about a quarter of the way around it. "So... what do you want for your birthday?" he whispered.

'I want to never see another thestral,' she started to think, but drew up fast. Thinking morbid thoughts while they were wandering around in the dark was a bad idea. It seemed like it would only bring bad luck, and she could do with less of that.

"Mikey," she said lowly, to where he had to move closer to even be able to hear her. "Remember back when we went to the beach by your parents' house the first time?"

He peered down at her uncertainly, and she knew that she was still as much a mystery to him as he was to her. "Go on," he whispered.

Daphne didn't answer right away, though. She looked toward the forest in the distance, thinking perhaps she'd heard something there. Birds, most likely, but one could never be sure nowadays. Maybe it was stupid what she wanted, but recently, she'd been a bit nostalgic. No one knew then what things would be like now, and memories were all people had to hang on to. At this point, no one knew which side would win, and what would happen if--

Again, she had to force her mind away from the dark thoughts and remember instead that day on the beach. She wasn't quite miserable then, but after her first real encounter with Muggles, she was glad for the quiet calm of the surf. Well, it hadn't really been quiet, but compared to the pub to which Michael had taken her...

It had been raining that day, and she still didn't get how much she really did like him. At the time, love was a foreign concept to her. Sure, she knew how to hate, but that was easier. Besides, Michael had a girlfriend at the time... If only she could capture some of that innocence again.

People grew up. She'd live.

Maybe.

She nudged his shoulder again, still looking outward toward the trees. Outward... If only she'd read Aesop's Fables when she was little, she'd know the moral that danger always came from the direction one least expected. Then again, she'd always been a bit oblivious.

It was still quiet, though, at least for now. She had no idea they were being watched. "I just always... Well, I never had the chance, you see. Everything happened so fast."

Michael smiled a little. "You can just tell me," he said.

"An umbrella. I just always thought they were rather useful."

He didn't laugh, so she couldn't help but give him credit for that much, but he was grinning in a way she didn't wholly appreciate. Still, people grinning in general was such a rarity these days that her annoyance quickly smoothed over, and she, too, was chuckling softly not after long.

"An umbrella? Well, that seems easy enough. Sorry it's going to be a bit late, though," he added, drawing up momentarily. He was rolling his wand between his fingers, which she thought was a little excessively relaxed. She nodded, though, pausing for a moment herself just because it was her birthday, and she figured she had earned this much.

"That's all right. Perhaps I'll forgi--"

It was at that point that the red lights appeared. Things got too fast for her to really take anything in at that point, except there were definitely Death Eaters standing not terribly far off from them, and she didn't know where they had come from, but she did manage to dodge all the lights that i weren't /i red, though how she'd managed that, she wasn't sure.

She hadn't felt a stunning spell in a long time, and the minute it hit her, she recalled that it was one of the more unpleasant sensations--well, at least for the moment she was conscious to feel it...