Sorry there was such a long time between chapters, to the people who did read this. This is my first published fanfiction, and usually stories like these play out in my mind like an animated TV show or movie, so don't be surprised if the chapters seem somewhat episodic, if not necessarily on time. That's all.
The Rescue
For the students attending Hogwarts, it was spring break – though some parents had already drawn their children out of school. The Potters were already thinking of bringing home Molly and Bilius. For everywhere, there were whispers – terrified whispers of what You-Know-Who was going to first. There were rumors that the dementors had been broken out of their banishment to Bulgaria – that the Death Eaters had stolen dragons from Gringotts – that Bellatrix Lestrange had been resurrected from the dead to be alongside her master – that Inferi were roaming the streets and it was safer now to Apparate or Floo than to go outside – that he was secretly already controlling their minds through Legilimency – that it was all a bluff, and he had no army – that he had Imperised Minister Weasley and the war was already lost.
But so far, he seemed to have done nothing, and the public was left simply uneasy. The Ministry chose to take action before he did: Aurors were being sent to the houses and manors of all his old followers – thoroughly searched and everything confiscated. Apparently the Dark Lord didn't like what it was they were doing.
"I, Lord Voldemort, would wish to address the members of the Wizengamot." Magical households all over Britain fell silent. This was yet another display of his newfound power to control the WWN, and it was disturbing, the idea he could speak to all of England. He was no longer just a villain in a fairy tale, but a terrifying danger that was as real as themselves. "You may have noticed by now that something is missing. In each and every one of your homes, there is something special. You may have more than one, and I know they are very, very important to you. I am speaking of your children. I have them, and you might never get them back. But know this; every time you send a team of Aurors to one of the houses of my followers, one of your children dies. If you want them to live, stop searching for me, and Lord Voldemort will spare them. If you continue the searches – I hate to spill pure blood,but if you do not comply, then spill it I must. That is all."
Somewhere, an alabaster hand came forward and turned off the radio. Finally. She'd been almost afraid the first broadcast was just a dangerous prank. Time to get to work.
The Riddle House, Little Hangleton
"Angelin, report."
"No news, my lord. They seem to be staying quiet." The Death Eaters were all made to stand while the Dark Lord sat at the head of the table in a great leather armchair. The lightless chandelier above clinked as a draft came through the room.
"And you, Morpheus?" He addressed the bulky wizard in suede robes.
"No reply yet from Malfoy, my lord. Everyone I have spoken to has given me evidence that he's gone over to the side of the Potters and the Ministry. I think, my lord -"
"Don't tell me what you think, Morpheus; every time you tell someone what you think, a bit of their gray matter dies. Demetria, have you found -"
"My lord!" A young, cinnamon-haired man burst into the room. His face was flushed and his chest heaved with panting.
"This had better be good, Harlequin, or you will know Death far better than I did."
The Death Eater stood up straight. "My lord, Cyrus and Moreaux spotted someone lurking around the old gardener's house. They shot a curse at Moreaux and missed; they're tracking the intruder now, my lord. Should I send the rest of the guard after them?"
The Dark Lord slowly rose. "No need. Send Chang and Fenward to help them; tell them to stun the intruder. I want him brought here for an interrogation."
On The Mansion Grounds
Charon Cyrus spat on the ground. "Damn! This one's like an eel. Not a very good aim, though." He nodded with grudging respect at the place where they'd last spotted the trespasser, a clump of virulently prosperous rhododendrons. "I tell you, Moreaux, I think this is some worthy quarry. Makes you all the more satisfied when you catch 'em."
"Really? Well, you better not be disappointed, Cyrus, when you find out you're not going to skin it and eat it." The oily, sarcastic voice of Darryl Chang came to the two other Death Eaters just as he and Fenward came onto the scene. "The Dark Lord wants the trespasser brought in for questioning. We were sent to help."
Cyrus curled his lip. "We can manage just fine, Chang; I need no one's help to bring this one in."
"Oh? Didn't you say that this one was like an eel? Surely you'll need all the help you can get."
"Oh, shut it, both of you. You sound like -" A curse flew past Fenward's head, cutting him off. "There he is! Catch him!"
The sound of rushed and hasty footsteps rushed past. "Stupefy! Damn! 'E's Disillusioned; we're castin' blind." More curses sailed over the heads of the Death Eaters, none of them hitting them. "You'd think 'e'd 'ave 'ad the sense to bring along someone who was a good shot. Locomotor Mortis!"
Something fell with a thump.
"You got him, Moreaux!" The four Death Eaters rushed forward, and going by feel, restrained the intruder's arms and planted them face down on the ground. "I don't know what you were expecting when you tried to get in here, mongrel, but you sure as hell weren't gonna succeed in what you were planning. Now let's see who you are!"
Chang tapped his wand on the intruder's head. There was the sound of an egg breaking, and the other three Death Eaters looked as though they'd been hit with a Confundus charm. "Well what do you know," Cyrus said, baring his teeth, "it's a girl!"
Five Minutes Later, the Front Hall
The girl in Muggle clothes was dragged between Fenward and Cyrus as the five of them came forward to face the Dark Lord. She hung limp, in the very picture of defeat and terror. Shakily, she raised her head just enough to see the hooded figure standing tall, and she gave a small gasp. Chang, the most humane of the four, at least as humane as any Death Eater can be, almost pitied her. The child seemed to have bitten off more than she could chew. That black hair of hers that fell in so many curls hung lank with cold sweat. Look at the kid, Chang thought, she's so pale. It would be a rather a pity if they had to kill her. She would make a nice, grateful pet if they spared her life.
"Is she disarmed?" Harlequin came striding forward. The young brat might be arrogant as a captain of the guard, but he was competent, there was no arguing about that.
"This is the wand she was using." Moreaux passed the walnut rod to Harlequin, who passed it to his lord. The Dark Lord examined the wand.
"Not particularly powerful. Exactly what were you hoping to achieve by attacking some of the guards? You're only a child, so you're clearly not with the Ministry. Why are you here and how did you know we were in this place?" The questions were addressed to the prisoner, but she did not answer.
After a moment, she turned her trembling head to face Chang, with her wide, frightened eyes looking straight at him.
"A-a-are th-there many m-more of you? Here?"
"Answer the Dark Lord's questions, brat!" She flinched. Something about her reminded Chang of his niece, but he told himself not be soft and made his face stony.
"I-I-I came to rescue the chil-children. I-I wanted to he-help someone."
"Yes? Indeed? And how did you know we were here?!" The Dark Lord lowered his voice to a deadly hiss. The room seemed to darken and his followers seemed to shrink beneath their lord's fury.
How had she known where they were situated? If a child could find them, then anyone could. Tom was quivering with rage at himself for having overlooked something; whatever it was, he would torture it out of this prisoner until he got what he wanted.
Then Tom realized something. He had simply made a mistake. There was no reason to be so angry. He truly had gotten younger; he had forgotten that he could accept his mistakes. Once he found out what it was, he could remedy it and dispose of the girl. Tom relaxed.
The sudden change in atmosphere was unnerving. One moment he was a towering blaze of fury, the next, he was the epitome of calm reasonableness. "Little girl," he said in a voice like frozen honey, "I would rather I didn't have to use an Unforgivable curse to learn how you found us." Chang couldn't help but shiver. He had never heard him like this before, and it chilled him to the marrow of his bones.
"Oh, you won't." Head still hanging low, the girl straightened her back and stood on her own feet. She then smiled the coldest smile that Chang had ever seen, and he got the urge to run, as though he had walked into the trap of some higher being that planned to destroy him. What the hell was going on here?
She slipped her hand into her pocket, and when she brought out the jet-black wand inside, a dozen others were instantly pointed at her. The girl chuckled. "Oh, relax, I'm not going to hurt you." She raised the wand into the air. "Somnius Maximus!" All the inhabitants of the room knew instant oblivion. Even Voldemort himself fell to the ground in slumber. The girl quickly Disillusioned herself. They would wake up in a few hours, maybe only half an hour for their leader. She'd better get moving quickly.
She passed out of the hall, stepping as lightly as possible. The place was a maze, and she was on a tight schedule. A pair of Death Eaters rounded the corner, and she quickly flattened herself against the wall. They passed without noticing her presence, and she continued onward, grateful to whatever god had invented the Disillusionment charm.
Finally! There were two guards stationed at one door. There was clearly something important behind it, and if it wasn't the children, it could still be useful. Although, she would be very disappointed if Voldemort turned out to be the sort of person who trusted other people to guard his secrets.
She silently Stunned them both, and cast an Alohomora on the lock. Nothing happened. She sighed, and took out a bobby pin and an empty quill nib. In a few moments the door was open. The girl couldn't help but feel a little let down. Her opponent was supposed to have been a great wizard, and he already seemed to have a weakness.
Oh, well. If she succeeded, then would have shown up the most infamous Dark Lord of all time, and that would be something.
She stepped into the dark doorway, and whispered, "Hello? Is anyone there?"
There was a stirring sound, like several people standing up at once. A young, strong voice called out from the shadows. "Who's there?"
"Philip Weasley, is it? I've come to rescue all of you. The door's open; quick, we don't have much time."
"Some of us are chained; those of us who had wands had them taken from from them."
"Your wands can be replaced. Diffindo Bondus." There was a huge cracking sound as the shackles of several children split open. "Come on, we don't have very much time."
The children of the Wizengamot scrambled forward into the light; their faces were filthy, and it looked as though no one had brushed their hair in a while. They seemed well fed, though they had deep bags beneath their eyes, and the terror of being in captivity was still held in their fearful facial features.
"This way. Quietly." The mysterious witch led them through the halls. The children followed her without question. Philip kept his hands clenched, as though ready to fight with his fists. When they came to the front hall, some of the smaller children whimpered at the sight of the sleeping Death Eaters. A little girl started to cry; not wails and moans, but short, sniffling and fearful sobs.
"It's all right, honey." The invisible witch ruffled her fingers through the little one's hair. "You'll be back with your Mum and Dad before you know it. Now's not the time to cry, though, okay? Freedom's just a few steps away." The child gulped and nodded. "Now, try to step over them; they're sleeping, not Stunned."
The group carefully picked their way over the many unconscious souls on the tile floor. When there were no Death Eaters between them and the door, the children began to race outside, elated with their disimprisonment. The strange girl caught Philip Weasley by the arm. "You'll find a mound of teacups by the road just outside the village. They're Portkeys; they're not on a time limit, just grab any one of them and it'll take you straight to the Ministry. Make sure all the others get there as well."
"Aren't you coming with us?" The boy looked where he thought the young woman's head must be as though she was mad.
"No – there's some business I have to take care of here. I'm leaving separately, don't worry. Just do what I told you. Now go!" He ran as soon as she let go. From her tone, he could tell that if he lingered, a Stinging Hex would be his reward. As he ran to tell the others how to get home, Philip wondered just where he had heard that voice before.
She looked about her, and tore down a painting of some Riddle from times gone by. Taking out her wand, she carefully chose her words and a Gothic script as she carved words onto the wall:
It's Your Move Now, Voldemort. Ta, And Enjoy That Bruise.
She considered leaving her initials, but she thought it perhaps would be best if she remained anonymous for now. No time anyways; she glanced down at the stirring Dark Lord. Best leave now, before he woke. The girl swiftly exited. Outside, she picked up a garden hoe she'd cast a Portus Charm over in the rhododendrons. Moments later, she was outside the Leaky Cauldron. She broke the Disillusionment Charm and walked in with a smile on her face as though she had been doing nothing suspicious.
Back at the Riddle House
Tom awoke with a pain in the back of his skull. Struggling, he sat up. He moaned and rubbed the back of his head. There seemed to be a bruise, as though he had fallen. What had – a Somnius. That girl – Damn it! Tom leapt to his feet. He was trembling all over with fury. How could he have been fooled by such a simple and obvious trick? And how had she known – how had she known where he could be found? HOW?!
His eyes found the writing on the wall, and Tom almost exploded. The insolence – the mockery – he had been striking fear into the hearts of witches and wizards when her grandparents had been walking with training wheels! How could she have so little fear of him? Tom noticed that his followers were beginning to stir, and he slipped his hood on over his face.
Harlequin and Chang awoke to find their leader standing utterly still before the writing on the wall. When they realized what it said, they exchanged terrified glances. The Dark Lord might kill them all out of rage without a second thought. Both pondered the same thing; did they dare to leave?
Out of nowhere, the Dark Lord began to laugh. It was high and screechy; cold, as everything about his voice was, and it was truly frightening, as this was the first time in decades that he had laughed with genuine mirth. Incredulous, disbelieving, and a not a little angry, but it was genuine mirth. "Ha! HA! Insolent little - ! At least she's got more spite than the Potter brat. But she won't be any threat to me in future. I'll remember be guarding against variables like her. A good story to tell, to keep careless Death Eaters on their toes." The way he turned his head to left implied Chang, and the poor man shrank as he was blasted into oblivion with a bright flash of green light.
At The Leaky Cauldron, Two Days Later
The Daily Prophet
Kidnapped Ministry Children Returned Safely to Parent's Arms: Minister Weasley's Son Speaks of Mysterious Rescuer, Possibly a Potter Cousin
A few days ago, the children children of Wizengamot members who were kidnapped by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Namedwere all deposited via Portkey just outside the Ministry office. The children were picked up by Aurors when Philip Weasley, aged twelve, took the lead and told one Auror, Derrick Welder, that he was the son of Minister of Magic Rose Weasley. When the parents of the children had identified them all, the Aurors continued the investigation.
"A few of the children spoke of an invisible woman who rescued them, but we weren't able to find anything else out, other than the fact that she must be incredibly powerful and intelligent to have taken out so many of You-Know-Who's followers," says Auror Mathew Endsley. Curious about their rescue, we requested, and received, an interview with Philip Weasley. Here is what he has to say about his escape from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named:
"I remember us being locked up in a room in a big old house...I couldn't tell you where it was, we were all blindfolded and Apparated there...The person who saved us was a girl, I think, not a grown-up but only a few years older than me. She kept herself Disillusioned the whole time, so I never saw her face...the whole time I kept wondering why her voice was so familiar, like I'd heard it somewhere before. I didn't realize it until much later, but I think it sounded kind of like my cousin, Aurelia Potter. Actually, it sounded a lot like her; impatient and clever, and nice to little kids."
Aurelia Potter is the adopted daughter of Harry Potter's eldest son, James Sirius Potter, and Philip Weasley's second cousin. To the right is a photograph of her with her family two years previously, when James Potter and his aunt, Hermione Weasley, published Weasley's and Harry Potter's co-authored autobiography after his death. But whether it was Weasley's cousin or someone who sounded like her, the young lady who rescued the children from the grasp of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is a hero, and no mistake.
Aurelia was taking a swig of butterbeer when she happened to read the headline, and quickly started spitting and coughing. She set aside her butterbeer and hastily wiped the paper clean with her sleeve. She read the article several times over.
In the photograph, the family stood together as a group on the doorstep of Grimmauld Place. Aurelia was in the back somewhat, looking bored and irritated, pulling her hair into a plait with three rubber bands; a futile attempt that Aurelia no longer tried as her hair grew longer and curlier and more stubborn. It would take a hundred rubber bands to keep it in a plait; besides, the rampant curls suited her somewhat and offset a face that might otherwise look stiff and inhuman.
"Damn," Aurelia said, staring at herself in the paper. "Should've used Polyjuice." Her only hope was that none of the Death Eaters smart enough to put two and two together got the Prophet...
Malfoy Manor, around the same time
A house elf served him today's copy of the Prophet. Tom snatched it up. So far the news hadn't reached the public; why would the Ministry cover this up?
In an unfortunate coincidence, Tom happened to be drinking tea (rue tea, as it happened; white, no sugar, but lots of lemon) when he spotted the photograph. As soon as he stopped coughing, he quickly siphoned the tea off the page with his wand. Thankfully, no tea had landed on the picture, and he stared at it for a few moments.
It was her, there could be no mistake. The brat's progeny had chosen to carry on his legacy. Although, his granddaughter might actually make for a better opponent. All he'd really been fighting was Dumbledore in the last war. Fighting a new prodigy in this one might turn out interesting.
Draco Malfoy entered the room, leaning heavily on his cane, yet still managing to bow in respect to his lord. Chills went down Draco's spine when he saw the Dark Lord's cold smile beneath his hood. Someone was playing with cursed fire, and if they weren't quick enough, they would burn to death.
By the way, I absolutely adore reviews. Ah, reviews! Anyway, that's the third chapter. I hope to finish writing the next one soon. Bye for now!
