C. M. Black: Bones of a Doe

Chapter IV: Making plans to plan

There was something about alchemy that was fascinating. Being able to transform one material into another was something that was hardly spectacular to witches and wizards beyond the age of three, but alchemy was something entirely different. There was a finesse to it that Cassy had appreciated where her friends had not. More times than she could recall while she had been studying it for her NEWTs she had had to restrain her enthusiastic rambling. Every project brought something new to the equation, complicating and yet simplifying the art; she adored the struggle required to make even the simplest of advancements.

In a bag hidden in the depths of her bedroom in the hidden house she shared with her father, there were several books full of scribbled theories and untested ideas; anything from random passing thoughts to whole projects, both the complete and incomplete. A particularly thick book had been dedicated to unconnected concepts surrounding lycanthropy and the possibility of using alchemy as a cure – the practice so different from using transfiguration or potions to change the very cells that composed the human body. It was painfully empty at the moment. No more than a handful of pages were marked with short, sharp notes and inked diagrams.

'Cassy?'

Swiftly, Cassy was brought away from her thoughts. She peered up to find Neville smiling at her with his eyebrows raised high towards his hairline.

'We lost you for a moment there,' he teased. 'What's got you thinking so hard, then?'

They both looked down at the silver band in her hand. Cassy was aware that Hermione had also paused in reading her book – or Cassy's book she had helped herself to off the shelf – and was watching her curiously too. There was a sense of pride she did not expect the others to understand as she held up the plain silver band.

'I made it,' she said. 'In fact, you both have something I made for you too, but you have to promise me that once they are on, you will not take them off.'

Both Neville and Hermione raised their eyebrows. The explanation was not extensive and Cassy was certain it left them with more questions than it had answered, but she said nothing more until she pulled another small trinket from her bag. She gave the bracelet to Neville and passed Hermione a small, circular pendant in gold. Curiously, they both inspected the items, neither finding the slightest of blemishes on the smooth metals. Hermione held hers by the long chain up to the light of the window.

'What do they do?' she asked knowingly.

'I can't tell you,' replied Cassy, routeing through her bag once more. 'It's better if neither of you knows so no one can force it out of you.'

It was a peculiar response. Even she had to acknowledge that it would not set their minds much at ease, but Cassy was not about to unveil what the purpose of them was. Delicately, she ran her fingers over the small ring in her bag, a final charm made for Harry, carefully designed to be as unnoticeable as possible, so indistinct in appearance that no one would think to take it from him. The others were painfully plain too, so ordinary compared to the trinkets on sale that promised protection and luck. There were no runes carved into the surface, instead, they lay deep inside the twisted metals, hidden like everything else contained within.

She paused her thoughts and instead stood, stretching her long legs. The heels of her boots clicked on the old, uneven floorboards as she walked towards the large open window. She pulled it shut, uncaring if the summer breeze had been the only thing to make her time in the house bearable; they could not risk being overheard anymore, even if Cassy had wards up to make her aware the moment anyone entered the garden. She then moved to sit opposite the armchair Hermione occupied and plucked a glass of water from the side-table, the ice already half-melted.

Colourful books with shining titles, pots and pans, a handful of plates and bowls, and much much more cluttered the ground. Papers were strewn hazardously in vague piles, some rolled carefully while others had been dumped at the earliest convenience. A collection of blankets, far more than the four they needed, were piled on the sofa Neville leant his back against. Upon pillows sat water flasks and beside them were already bags of dried foods and tins with expiry dates verging into the next century. A mound of coins sat nearest to Neville. His hands worked to collect them into small piles and mark a line for every ten Galleons on a scrap of parchment.

The money was theirs – Cassy and Neville's. They had both pulled what money they could from their accounts; Neville's Grandmother had not even scolded him when she had received a letter stating he had withdrawn nearly all of his trust fund, a quick explanation that if he was going to be serious about fighting the Dark Lord then he needed not to take unnecessary risks by venturing into the heart of London frequently was all she needed to smile and congratulate his clever thinking. It had not been all of it for either of them. Cassy doubted that they could carry it all and doubted even more that it would be needed. At some point, she asserted, they were going to have to beg, borrow and steal to get by. It was simply not possible to go to a supermarket or into a store and always buy whatever they needed. There would be times when they would surely just need to take what they could, break and enter, lie and cheat to be able to keep going. Besides, no one could say how long they might be searching for. It could be months or years, a lifetime.

'I know I am not being very helpful being so vague, but I am trying to plan ahead,' she said to the others.

Neville marked down another line, undisturbed in his task by the bracelet fixed upon his left wrist. However, Hermione frowned.

'And what does your idea of ahead involve?' she asked.

At this, Neville paused and looked to Cassy too. Idly, Cassy toyed with the glass in her hand for a moment before she set it down again. She looked between them both with sharp scrutiny they had both had years to get used to, but there was something about the intensity of her stare right then – a lioness against her sisters, focused and dominating, that had both Neville and Hermione drawn entirely into her presence without either of them realising it. When Cassy knew she had their attention, her fingers clasped together and elbows against her knees, she carefully considered her words.

'I think we need to establish a place we all know so if we get separated we can give ourselves time to meet up again,' she said. She reached behind her and pulled a notebook and pencil out from amongst the tower of books. 'We need a waiting time, a limit on how long the others stay for before moving on with the task again.'

'We're not likely to be separated, though, are we?' said Neville.

Cassy looked at Hermione, who was biting her lip.

'I am aware of how this will sound,' began Cassy, 'but Harry is the most important person in Britain right now. He is the only one who can defeat the Dark Lord, so it is imperative that we do everything we can to keep him alive.'

It sounded so selfish, so careless. It sounded as though she thought their lives were nothing. Far from that, she valued their lives so much, their presence, their happiness, but logically, they were all second to Harry. Harry was the only hope they had.

'I will gladly die for him if it comes to it, as I would for any of you,' she continued, hardly pausing to allow the first sentence to sink into their heads. 'What it comes down to, though, is that without Harry no one stands a chance. He must be our first priority.'

A heavy silence filled the fresh air of the room. She could see her words churning in their minds. The mere idea of separating brought terrible ideas into all of their minds, dire situations with deadly consequences, but Cassy had been contemplating the face it was necessary for weeks; she had been formulating ideas since the very day Dumbledore died. In the best case scenario, the four would meet up again in a forest or by a lake with all limbs attached and no life-changing injuries to bare; in the worst case scenarios, no one appeared to find a lone teen standing amongst the moss and rocks and they were forever to wonder if anyone would come at all, if they left then they feared they would miss them, but if they stayed they left the rest of the country to die because only the four of them shared the knowledge of the Horcruxes.

'If it is a choice between us, then you must go for him,' urged Cassy with no room for debate.

'I see the logic,' said Hermione reluctantly. 'You're right: without him, we're all dead anyway. There's every chance one of us will die and it can't be him.'

Had Cassy not steeled herself through the years, she would have flinched at the unquestioning acceptance in her friend's voice.

Suddenly, Neville's fist slammed down onto the floor. The bang sent both Cassy and Hermione into the air, hands halfway to their wands and eyes wide in search of a threat. He was on his feet and an instant later, fists so tightly clenched each groove of ligament covering his knuckles could be seen with astounding quality. Wordlessly, he stormed from the room. Chairs scraped and clattered in the next room as he carelessly barged past them; the back-door bounced off the wall before being wrenched shut with such a force it the glass panels within shattered noisily onto the mat below.

Cassy remained seated. She stared at the floor intently for a moment, before she slipped from the seat and dragged a pile of books close. A minute passed in silence. Hermione watched her, Cassy could feel it. Her gaze was heavy on her shoulders as she ignored her, but it was not nearly as irritating as her hands were as they came to take the books from Cassy's own and rearrange the piles of "yes" and "no" she had been creating. Hermione moved a book and Cassy would move it back. They kept it up for several more minutes until Hermione withdrew and sat back on her heels in defeat.

Only, Cassy wished it was in defeat over the books and not defeat over her own ability to hold her tongue.

'He's upset that he may have to pick between his friends, not because he's afraid of being left behind,' said Hermione.

Deeply, Cassy scowled up at her, her head still inclined to the book in her hands.

'I know that,' she snapped.

Hermione began to sift through the pile again. 'And after Harry, you're the most important person right now, you do know that, don't you? I don't think you realise how much you impacted on support and morale for Harry in the last year.' When there was no response, she continued. 'People admire your courage. Not many people at school wanted to say it because they're a little bit scared of you, to be honest, but I heard it said quite a lot. The fact that you could just put up your hands and declare yourself out of the war and didn't means a lot to people, especially because they know how much you've put yourself in danger.'

'No, they don't,' muttered Cassy. No one besides Harry and her father knew she told him to kill her that day in the Ministry, that she genuinely would rather he had done so than entertained the idea of joining him for even a second, and that's something she will not tell anyone. Fear is natural, thought Cassy, and she had been afraid in that moment, for a while, but she was more afraid of allowing Harry's demise, in the end, than she had been of dying herself. She did not want anyone to think she expected anything more of them than they can give. She did not want anyone to think she was trying to prove anything and risk having them believe she had made it all up.

She peered around her, having squabbled silently with the book pile as she thought. Now it finally seemed sorted and they both accepted it as it was, she moved to another stack of books. They were a pile of four, each with a worn leather binding and wordless covers.

'Hermione,' said Cassy as she turned the pages of the top book thoughtfully, 'how is it you destroy a Horcrux?'

Cassy had wanted to read the books herself, but both of them knew she simply did not have the time. She was the only one who was able to move freely to gather all the items on the list as tall as it was. Gathering covertly was difficult when she lived with her father and was frequently paired with or in conference with members of the Order of the Phoenix. They were more observant than most on their worst of days and a tendril of paranoia had begun to seep into the edges of their organisation. When Dumbledore died, many members left. It was as though his death signalled the end of a war that had just begun; members took their families into hiding and denied having ever seen them before if they met on the street. Mundungus Fletcher had been the first to run. Cassy was keen to let him go. Their plans did not rely on him in any way and even if Moody had been keen to force him to keep his word and help, Cassy had argued firmly against it. He was a dead weight. Besides, she was rather sick of him stealing all of her ancestors' cutlery.

'There's a few ways: a Basilisk fang, Titan's Tears -'

'Oh good,' drawled Cassy, 'those are only two of the most difficult to obtain substances in the world.'

'Well, I don't fancy carrying around Titan's Tears anyway! I'm not having something that needs to be kept in a diamond flask rolling around in my bag,' said Hermione. 'Anyway, there's not very much listed about destroying them at all, only that to do it the vessel needs to be destroyed beyond the state of magical repair and then the soul dies too – like the opposite to a living person's soul.'

Cassy hummed. 'We are going to have to think about where to even get something destructive enough to stand a chance.'

'I've been trying to list things I know, but we're going to have to research it a bit. Do you think we have enough books?'

Surveying the piles of items around them, Cassy honestly thought they were still severely under-prepared. There were so many things they could use, things they might need in one of the thousand scenarios she had envisioned. She had gotten everything off the list the four of them drew up on the train in June. It still felt like they were missing so much. Then again, Cassy knew she would likely be the one to find it the hardest out of the four of them. She had never had anything less than a house-elf dutifully preparing meals for her whenever she wished, she had always had fluffy pillows and a warm fire to light the winter nights. It was going to be difficult.

'It's going to have to be,' she said. 'Tomorrow is a big night and after that, we are going to be kept under lock and key by Mrs Weasley.'

Hermione sighed and nodded. She peered at her watch. 'We need to get all this into the bags. We only have an hour.'

Cassy stood and stretched her legs. For a moment, she contemplated going to find Neville, who she was sure had probably found some flowers that needed tending and was calming himself by mercilessly chopping at her plants.

They packed the items with careful consideration. Neither wanted to carry more than the other. If they were compromised and unable to access both of their bags, they needed to be able to manage from the items they did have. While one tent had to be enough – graciously given to them by Mr Weasley without his wife's knowledge – they doubled up on nearly everything else. Blankets and pillows were shared between them, the food rations, books, clothes. Each knew exactly what they had, though Hermione insisted on checking her bag three times before he finally relaxed.

'I'll go and get Neville,' she said, checking her watch once more.

Cassy nodded. She remained where she sat in the armchair for several moments, fingers running lightly over the soft fabric. She rarely sat in the chair as a child. When Alphard was out of the room, she would sometimes sneak over and sit for thirty-seconds just because she had been told not to, or sometimes to see if the chair was a taste she would acquire with age: it was not. It was dipped in the centre and the back was worn from use. It was an overall uncomfortable seat, but Alphard had loved it.

She knew she needed to get rid of it. She either needed to update the house and redecorate to make it her own or she needed to sell her childhood home. Sentiment prevented her from dwelling on it too much over the last year when she had finally been in the right mental state to address the property she had reluctantly inherited. She favoured keeping it. It was a large home and in a good location. It was a distance away from Muggle streets, but close enough so that she was not totally disconnected from them. It needed new windows, after visiting Hermione she had become rather fond of double-glazing, and electricity was something to be marvelled at. She could live here again, just differently from before, if she was to make it back to the house at the end of it all.

Her focus shifted away from the unhelpful direction her thoughts were taking. They had been drifting that way for a while as she entertained every possibility in her brilliant mind, but dwelling on what may or may not be would not help her to ensure any sort of future for herself. Instead, she slung a brown satchel over her shoulder, checked the undetectable extension charm was certainly undetectable, fastened the opening securely and turned to look expectantly at the doorway.

The back door and two sets of feet sounded. Hermione slipped back into the room with a quick smile; behind her, Neville edged in with his ears tinged a bright pink.

'Sorry about earlier,' he said, his cheeks following the colour of his ears as he spoke. 'I just-'

'I understand. You don't need to apologise,' said Cassy with a small, quick smile.

Neville nodded and smiled tightly back at her. The corners of his mouth dropped and his eyebrows upturned in a muted look of desperation. 'Do you really think we need to plan for our deaths?'

Cassy stared for a moment and considered the man in front of her. Then, she nodded and said, 'Yes, I believe there is every chance someone is going to die. Given everything, I cannot believe how lucky we have been to make it this far without a fatality. It will happen to someone we know at some point.'

There was a faint sense of guilt in her stomach as she watched his eyes drop heavily to the floor. Neville was an unusually sweet soul. She remembered the first time he had reached out to her in a flood of tears, the alarm and repulsion she felt at the sight of such a fragile mess. Neville was not that boy anymore, and yet, he very much was. He always believed in the best in people, saw something in them there could be no proof of but remained so positive that everyone had the capability to be wonderful. It was not something that vanished with age and experience, it merely became tarnished by the smoke and aftermath of everything they had been through. He still saw the good in people, just no longer everyone, and he still tried to please and tried to encourage everyone around him into seeing the best in themselves too; he had merely come to accept that not everyone was capable of being as marvellous as everyone else. He believed that good would triumph over evil, the subjectivity of such a concept never crossing his mind. So, to Cassy, it seemed so wrong to stand there and push a pin of terror into that gentle optimism.

Not for the first time, Cassy wondered when she had become so soft, for had it been anyone else she would have scoffed at their naivety.

There was no outburst of quick denial. Neville merely pursed his lips and absently raised his left hand to toy with the bracelet on his right.

'We need to go or we will be late,' said Cassy decisively. With the briefest pause, she grabbed Neville and Hermione's wrists and Apparated. The swirl only lasted for a moment, no more than a second or two, before they reappeared in a large, crooked room. Thin, tall beams rose to support a tilted corrugated ceiling; between each beam was a dusty window, the lower half nearly always obscured by piles of objects, both rusted and new, broken and whole. A long table divided the room, packed with strange objects, many of which Cassy had never seen before. Above them hung light bulbs. Rows and rows of them, all hung from the beams that stretched from one side to the other with old boards of wood wedged up there to support boxes of more miscellaneous items that had been collected over many long years.

'Right on time,' a voice said from beside them.

Everyone turned, though with no real panic. A narrow green door was open and a tall man with thinning red hair stood on the top step. Behind him was a small kitchen with terracotta tiles and high cupboards with mismatched handles.

'Mr Weasley,' greeted Hermione with a wide smile.

'Whose tiara is Fleur wearing for the wedding?' he asked, his wand poking out of his pocket and not grasped in his hand.

'Mrs Weasley's Aunt Muriel's,' said Neville.

Mr Weasley beamed at them and waved them into the house as he retreated from the kitchen and into the living room. The three followed him in from the garage and added their shoes to a large mound that sat by the back door to the garden. Immediately, Cassy could see the shoes of her father, polished and designer, the sturdy and steel-capped boots of her cousin, and the tattered brown loafers of her cousin's new husband.

She peaked her head around the doorway last of the three. The house looked different from when she last visited, tidier and somewhat more sophisticated than the inconsistent furniture and handmade blankets thrown over the old sofas she had come to expect. It could still not shake the haphazard image, though, nor the warmth of a country home. It was clear that the Weasleys had done their best to reorganise themselves for the upcoming wedding, no doubt wanting to make a good impression on Fleur's parents, who Mr and Mrs Weasley had yet to meet.

Cassy managed to sidestep the crushing hug of Mrs Weasley and redirected her towards Hermione, who she had not seen in far longer. She moved then to the table and took the spare seat beside Tonks, opposite Ginny who was laughing loudly.

'Wotcha, Cassy,' greeted Tonks, her nose still scrunched into that of a dog's.

'Good evening, Tonks,' said Cassy with a single eyebrow raised.

'Ignore her,' called Sirius from a seat two down from Ginny, 'she thinks she can do an impression of me, but it's pretty dire, really.'

Cassy eyed her cousin. It certainly explained the black hair she had tied in a short ponytail.

There was a loud booming of wood against wood that made the whole room fall immediately silent. Everyone's eyes swung to stare at Alastor Moody, his walking-stick still flat on the table in front of him. He gazed at each of them in turn, his stare judgemental like an executioner stood upon the gallows, his electric-blue eye twirling and turning so much faster in search of a sign of insubordination.

'Sit,' he commanded to those who had lingered with their greetings.

Hermione quickly shuffled to share a rickety chair with Ginny and Mrs Weasley moved to sit beside her husband at the opposite head of the table to where Moody sat. Mrs Weasley frowned at her daughter.

'Ginny,' she said sharply.

'No, I want to know,' said Ginny fiercely.

All of Ginny's present brothers looked warily at their mother, waiting for her to erupt. However, she never had the chance, for Moody spoke gruffly before she could even open her mouth: 'We don't have time for this. Let the girl stay, it's better she knows what to expect if anything goes wrong.'

A furious scowl broke over Mrs Weasley's brow, but she did not argue. Her husband placed a reassuring hand on hers, but it looked as though it did little to comfort her.

'Now,' said Moody gruffly, 'the first thing I've got to ask is if anyone has any doubts about participating in this plan. Say it now.'

No one spoke.

Eighteen people sat gathered in the Weasley family's long dining table, some of which were a surprise to see. As large and broad as he had ever been, Hagrid took up a great deal of space in his centre seat. Fleur sat beside Bill, poised and attentive to Moody's demanding presence; Cassy had not expected her to participate in such a mission for Britain was not her home and Harry had been no more than a passing face in her effort to get the Weasleys to like her. She had whole-heartedly expected that Mrs Weasley would have locked Ginny away in her room to shield her from whatever they might discuss – she very well might have tried, but Ginny sat stubbornly at the table although she could not possibly participate due to her age. Fred, George, and Ron were all present too, as was Kingsley who was still dressed in his work clothes.

'We need to agree on everything tonight, finalise exactly what to expect and what to do, because tomorrow will be too late to change our minds,' continued Moody. 'How is everything holding up on your end?'

Kingsley inclined his head. 'Thicknesse's orders still stand. No one can Apparate anywhere within five miles of Harry, portkeys are still detectable, especially given the trace they leave for the Ministry to detect afterwards, and the Floo network is still being tightly monitored. He's still going on about plans to move Harry on the thirtieth, so there is hope You-Know-Who is none the wiser about the real date.'

Moody nodded at him. 'So there aren't going to be any last-minute changes in plans, then. Right, so we need to decide on who is going to be paired with who, and which one of you wants to be "it".'

'I should have Harry,' said Hagrid immediately. When all eyes turned to him, he puffed out his chest. 'I took him there when he was a baby, it's only right it's me who takes him away again. Besides, everyone's going to expect him to be with a more capable fighter, I mean, I'm no push-over, but there are more obvious choices than me.'

Slowly, Moody nodded. 'Good. I was thinking the same thing. Everyone's going to expect him to be with either Sirius or Remus, someone he knows well and has a history of fighting. You'd be the last person to expect.'

Not at all embarrassed or ashamed by any implications in Moody's words, Hagrid beamed.

'Now,' said Kingsley in a deep, contemplative voice, 'we need volunteers to be "it".'

Without hesitation, many hands rose.

Merry Christmas to those who celebrate it! I'm cutting it close by publishing this now, it's almost Boxing Day here in England.

This is a bridge chapter. The next one is where the action begins!

Hope you enjoyed it. Let me know what you think.

Thanks!