The Paths We Tread
Chapter 8:
Into the Valley of Death
Shell Cottage
Tinworth, Cornwall
August 15, 1996
The sound of crunching glass echoed through the cottage as Charlie and someone else – probably his father – stepped into the room. As Bill stood perfectly still, Charlie moved to stand at his shoulder, his eyes trained on Tonks' slumped form. Bill could practically feel the heat radiating off his brother as the dragonkeeper stared at his best friend. A sharp, biting feeling began to rise up in his blood, like the sting of an electrical current.
"Relax," Brand chuckled, grinning toothily at Charlie, and Charlie jerked his head around to glare at the man. "She's just taking a little nap. Only fair, considering she shot me in the back."
"I told her to," Bill said evenly, and Brand turned back to stare intensely at him.
"Really, boy?" Brand replied, "You're gonna tell a German that 'just following orders' is an excuse? You're smarter than that, Billy."
Bill didn't reply, just stood perfectly still and quirked an eyebrow. Behind Brand, Harry was steadily staring at his hands, and Bill saw a slight glow start to build around the teen's fingers.
Brand's smile faded as he continued to stare at Bill. "Or you were, before you got all cocky," he continued. Sitting up straight, he looked Bill up and down appraisingly, his eyes latching onto the cut on Bill's neck, in the exact same spot as Harry's. As Bill watched, Brand flicked his wand and the knife on Harry's throat moved to the other side, nicking his skin. Charlie and Ginny let out a hiss of anger as blood dripped from Harry's neck.
But Harry was staring at Bill, and Bill just shook his head.
"Funny, that," Brand said quietly, "I cut him – " He moved the knife with another wave of his wand, and the blade flew down and dug into Harry's leg, the tip burrowing into the outside of his thigh. Harry bit his lip to keep from making a sound, and Bill just stared steadily back at Brand.
"You bleed," Brand finished, and with a jerk of his hand, the knife was yanked from Harry's leg, hovering in the air next to the teen.
A heavy silence echoed through the room, and Bill met Brand's gaze unblinkingly, deliberately looking anywhere but Harry. "Why is that, I wonder?" Brand whispered.
"What do you want?" Bill asked, forcing an air of unworried impatience into his voice. His leg was throbbing, which meant Harry's was, and he was sick and tired of seeing the kid hurt. His sister and three other kids were tied up on his couch, trapped behind a ward that would kill anyone crossing without permission. And Tonks – who knew what he had really done to Tonks?
Your fault, he thought angrily at himself, what were you thinking, bringing him here?
The fake joviality disappeared from Brand's face. "My possessions back," he said shortly, "my freedom back. And her. She's useful."
Bill's blood ran cold as Brand pointed the paring knife towards tiny little Luna Lovegood, and he chanced a glance at Harry. The boy's hands were clearly glowing now, and Bill could feel ozone building up in the air.
"Out of the question," Arthur cut in behind him, and Bill didn't bother to turn as his father strode fully into the room, coming to stand just on the edge of the golden rope blocking them from the kids.
"It wasn't a question," Brand said sharply, glaring at Bill's father. The kindly man who had raised Bill stared steadily back, and Bill watched as an impassive look stole over his father's face. "Your boy is a little off the reservation, Art. You might want to reel him in before someone gets hurt."
The knife next to Harry jerked in the air on the man's last word.
"You are not taking a child," Arthur replied evenly, and Brand's eyes flashed.
"I wouldn't hurt her!" he said hoarsely. "You know what Pan – "
"I know your obsession with Pan is what drove her to run," Bill's father shot back. "I know the depravities you are capable of. The girl goes nowhere."
Brand stared at him blankly for a moment, as if he could not believe what he was hearing. After a moment of heavy silence, he shrugged, grinning again. "Well, then," Brand said, "I'll deal with you later, Billy. And your boy hero is no matter to me, so – "
"I'll do it," Luna said in her quiet sing-song. "Where will we be going, Mr. Brand?"
"No," Arthur said evenly, and he slipped his wand from his holster, his eyes steady. "The girl stays, and you leave. Now."
Charlie was looking back and forth between their father and Brand, the stocky man's eyes wide. Brand just chuckled.
"You really want to go there, Artie?" he asked quietly. "Last time, you only bested me because you had reinforcements."
Arthur smiled. "I have reinforcements now."
A sudden light flashed through the room, and Harry stood, the blue dome splintering around him and the knife soaring through the air towards Brand. The spellcrafter swore harshly, spinning on his heel and banishing the knife, then turned to Harry. The teen didn't say a word, just lifted his wand and glared at Brand. Behind them, the golden rope began to move, slithering across the ground towards his sister, and Bill growled under his breath. The current in his blood rose, and a buzzing sound began to fill his ears.
He crossed the room in two quick strides and knelt beside the rope, his wand pressed to the ground, and he whispered frantic spells as the golden rope glowed and began to eat away at the wooden floor. Steam curled up from the ground around him, but the rope was unharmed. With a muttered swear, he pressed his palms flat on the edges of the rope, hissing under his breath as his skin immediately blistered. He reached deep inside himself, closed his eyes, and a glowing blue light appeared in the air around him. The light turned into giant sparks, which shot towards the rope and wrapped around it, and –
The walls rattled, the torches flickered, and the rope disappeared.
And Bill had a sudden, violent headache.
He let out a shaky breath and stood slowly, blue sparks still shooting between his fingers. A wave of his wand vanished the ropes around the kids and he looked at them, Ginny giving him an appraising look, Luna smiling vaguely, Neville's stoic expression –
And Hermione was staring at him, wide-eyed with shock and no small amount of fear.
"Boy," Brand's voice sounded from across the room, and Bill spun on his heel to glare at the man. Charlie had moved to kneel beside Tonks, but Harry and his father stood on either side of the German, wands pointed straight at him. Harry hadn't looked away from the spellcrafter, but Bill's father was looking back and forth between him and Brand, that maddening blank expression still on his face.
And Brand didn't notice either of them, staring at Bill with wide, panicked eyes. "Boy, what have you done?"
Bill met the spellcrafter's terrified, judgmental gaze, and took a single step forward –
"Stupefy," his father intoned quietly, and Brand slumped, Arthur Weasley moving to catch the man and lower him carefully to the ground. Another wave of his wand and a cage appeared around the man, shackles on his arms and legs. Runes glowed around the braces and Bill looked curiously at the etchings.
"I'll take him," a deep voice echoed from the doorway, and Shacklebolt swept into the room. In the corner, Tonks was getting shakily to her feet, holding tightly to Charlie's arm. A wide gash decorated her forehead, and a colorful bruise was already forming on her neck.
Harry shot Bill a questioning look, then brushed by him to the other teens. The three girls all but threw themselves at him, all of them hugging him frantically. Neville clapped Harry on the shoulder as Bill watched, and after a glance at Mr. Weasley, the stocky teen steered the group out of the room and out of the cottage, heading in the direction of the shore.
His father was staring at him steadily, and Bill turned away as a hint of sadness flashed through the older man's eyes. As Shacklebolt, Charlie, and Tonks gathered up Brand and left, Bill walked over to the mirror that acted as the ward keystone, pressing his wand lightly to the surface and closing his eyes.
He'd deal with all of – this – later, but for the moment, he needed to get wards back up.
A lot more wards. All of the wards known to man and magic. How could he have let this happen?
"Bill," his father said quietly behind him, and Bill didn't move. "What were you thinking?"
A muscle ticked in Bill's jaw, and he opened his eyes slowly, staring steadily ahead. Glowing golden runes appeared in the air around him as he slowly and carefully wove wards through the property, an act that his father did not seem to realize required total concentration.
"I'm serious, Bill," his father continued, and Bill's hand shook slightly. He let out a deep breath and straightened his still aching hand, raising his left palm for balance as he dragged another ward into place. "Why on earth would you kidnap Brand? What were you thinking? Were you thinking?"
"I was thinking," Bill shot back, spinning on his heel as his temper snapped, "that he knew things he wasn't telling us, things that would help with the war. I was thinking that he wasn't going to share any of that information willingly. I was thinking – "
His father was staring at him steadily, and the older man's gaze dropped down to Bill's hands. Bill glanced down and swore viciously. A couple stray blue sparks were still shooting between his fingertips. He closed his eyes, taking another steadying breath, and flexed his fingers before opening his eyes again, staring down at his hand.
Normal. But he could still feel the current running through him.
"You weren't thinking," his father replied quietly. "You weren't thinking, or you never would have brought him here. You put everyone in danger, Bill. The only reason we were even able to stop Brand was because he was distracted by your stunt."
Bill clenched his jaw, closing his eyes again for a moment. "I needed what he knew."
"You didn't need to do it here," his father said sharply, anger flashing across his face. "You didn't need to do it that way, and you didn't need to do it alone. Really, Bill, he wasn't wrong! You are being reckless!"
"I did something!" Bill shot back angrily. "Somebody had to!"
"So you keep saying," Arthur replied, scowling. "You are an absolute maverick lately, and have been ever since – "
Bill stared at his father steadily as the man visibly calmed himself.
"I don't know what you did to yourself, son," the Weasley patriarch said quietly, "but it wasn't worth it."
"That remains to be seen," Bill said quietly, and he turned his back on the older man, his focus directed at the keystone once more.
Silence echoed through the room, and Bill felt more than heard when his father let out a sad sigh.
"You're brilliant, son, there's no denying that," his father murmured. "Everything you've ever tried to do; you've been gifted at. But the one thing you've never been good at is asking for help. You always think you know best."
Bill's jaw clenched, and he fisted his left hand, pressing it to the wall hard enough to bruise. The torched skin of his hands stung, and spots appeared in his field of vision. And Christ, his head hurt.
"You're brilliant, and you're talented, and you're compassionate," his father continued. "And what you're trying to do for Harry is admirable. I wish I had a tenth of your talent and nerve. But Bill – that is all going to be meaningless if you don't stop this. You're trying to take on the world alone, and you can't. You're not strong enough, and you don't know enough. Nobody does."
Bill just shook his head.
"You always think you know best, son," his father said quietly. "But can you still learn?"
The sound of soft footsteps echoed through the room, and Bill heard the screen door swing open beside him.
"Hello, Harry," his father said calmly, "did you summon Madam Pomfrey yet for your injuries?"
Bill heard Harry reply quietly, heard the kid's slight embarrassment at being caught eavesdropping again, and leaned his head against the wall with a tired sigh. He opened his eyes slowly, looking in the ward mirror. The cut on his neck had closed already, leaving behind a pencil-thin scar. No doubt, his leg was the same.
Reminders, from magic itself, of his vow. Reminders of what was to come if he failed.
He closed his eyes again, then drew his arm back and slammed his fist into the wall as hard as he could.
Holbeck, Leeds
West Yorkshire, England
August 16, 1996
"Well," Remus said quietly, "this is disgusting."
Shack snorted, the burly Auror's eyes narrowed as he gazed around the abandoned flat. "Kid's description was pretty spot-on," he agreed, stepping gingerly over what looked to be the ancient remains of a burger on the floor. "And it definitely doesn't look like anyone has been here in years."
The Weasley twins stood just inside the doorway, their noses wrinkled and matching looks of horror on their faces. "So… do we have to go through this?" one asked, and Lupin grinned wryly.
"This is nasty even by our standards," the other twin added.
"Yeah, looks like Charlie's room before – "
"Boys," Shack cut in, and the twins went silent. "Fred, go with Lupin, George, with me."
The Weasleys shot him another mutinous glare for being separated, and Lupin chuckled as the suddenly sullen George Weasley trailed after Shacklebolt, muttering under his breath. Beside him, Fred was shaking his head ruefully, his mouth quirked in a slight smile as his brother disappeared around the corner.
Lupin moved further into the room, his wand out as he stepped carefully into the kitchen area. He slowly cast diagnostic spells around the room, checking for traps or wards before letting out a sigh of relief. Whoever had spelled the place was not all that talented, clearly – any defensive spells had worn away long ago.
"Check everything," he said quietly, and Fred nodded, his face unnaturally serious.
"What are we looking for?"
Lupin sighed tiredly. "You'll know when you see it," he replied dryly.
"Alright," Fred agreed easily, moving across the room and rifling through drawers. They searched in silence for a few moments, Remus wrinkling his nose as he tried to ignore the revolting odors in the room.
Really, his enhanced sense of smell was not a blessing.
The silence stretched on, and Remus stopped as he realized that Fred wasn't moving. He turned his head and looked at the younger wizard, his brow furrowed in concern. Fred was standing in front of an open cabinet, staring blankly ahead, his hands fisted on the counters.
"Everything alright, Fred?" Lupin asked softly, and the teen swallowed.
"Everything has gone to hell," the younger wizard replied. "Bill and Dad aren't speaking, Charlie is acting weird, the world is falling apart and I – " Fred shook his head. "I don't know what to do," he said hoarsely. "I can't lighten the mood to keep people going, I can't get people's minds off things because we have to deal with this and I – I'm not a soldier! I don't know what to do."
"You're doing it," Lupin said bracingly, squeezing the boy's shoulder. He felt a stirring of self-hatred deep down – how was he encouraging this poor boy to continue a fight he didn't want? How could he –
"I can't keep Fred calm," the Weasley twin continued, and Lupin bit back a smile as the twin confessed. George, apparently, muttered under his breath, "Not that I ever really could, but still. Katie hasn't been responding to his owls for a few days, and he thinks – "
"Katie? Katie Bell?" Lupin asked sharply. He remembered the sweet, energetic, spunky teen from his classes. She had been a vivacious young girl… unbidden, the image of those children, mauled in the park in Inverness, sprang into his mind. He shook his head to clear it, focusing back in on George with intense effort.
"Yeah," George said sullenly. "I mean, maybe she's just on holiday or something, but…"
The boy's voice trailed off, and his eyes narrowed as he stared at the back of the cabinet. He traced his wand along the back wall, and small sparks shot up. Lupin stepped closer, watching with interest as the Weasley twin performed a revealing spell he'd never seen before. The outline of a door glowed in a soft silver light, and George reached forward and pressed his fingers against the backing.
It melted away under his fingertips, revealing a small hiding place, filled to the brim with books and vials and small little sacks.
"Something like this?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at Lupin, and Remus stared as the boy reached into the wall and pulled out a small ledger.
"Yes," he agreed dazedly. "Something like this." He gazed at the stacks of vials in the cabinet, some of them potions, some of them the viscous, swirling liquid of memories, and felt suddenly, violently ill.
The Leaky Cauldron
Diagon Alley, London
August 18, 1996
"Crikey, what a week," Charlie muttered, slumping down in the booth. He wrapped both hands around the frosty mug and brought his mouth down to the lip, sipping tiredly. Across the booth, Shack was watching him with an amused expression, the usually somber Auror rolling his eyes at Charlie's manners.
Next to him, Tonks muttered an agreement from where she had pillowed her face in her arms, leaned fully onto the table and half-asleep.
"At least we actually accomplished something, finally," Em pointed out quietly as Tom placed a serving of fish and chips in front of her. Shack was eyeing the food, one dark hand snaking out to snag a chip, and Em swatted at his hand without even looking. "Finding Rosier's old hideout was an amazing win."
"Not to mention everything recovered when Brand's place was tossed," Shack agreed, and Charlie felt a surge of anger at the man's name.
When his father – which, what the fuck was going on there – had sent Bill and Harry to see Brand, Charlie had never doubted it was for a good reason. And good came from it, clearly, because the soul leech that had been attached to Harry was destroyed. The poor kid deserved better than to be some dark lord tosser's trash can. But Brand was clearly insane.
That's why Dad didn't let him be alone with Harry, I guess, he thought calmly, shrugging off his inner thoughts. He turned his attention back to the table.
"Did Bill tell you anything about what he found, Char?" Tonks asked sleepily, not even opening her eyes, and Charlie snorted.
"He mentioned a couple of trade tools that I couldn't possibly remember, but he didn't seem excited about anything," Charlie replied. "Of course, that's probably because – "
His voice trailed off, and the table fell into an awkward silence.
Bill, his genius brother, was being ridiculously stupid. After the scene where Brand was slicing him up by cutting Harry, Hermione "I-Read-Too-Much" Granger had put two and two together and come up with four. Harry knew now that Bill had sworn a vow on his life. Bill was avoiding Harry. Harry was understandably furious.
Charlie wanted to slap them both upside the head.
He missed his dragons, his tent, his whiskey, and his girls. Three months before, he'd had an easy damn life. How had he let himself get talked in to all this shit?
"It was a seriously risky move," Em said quietly. "I don't know what he was thinking."
"We were afraid the Ministry was gonna move on Harry, and Dumbledore was being stubborn," Charlie muttered. "It was extreme, yeah, but it worked."
"Yeah, except now if we lose Harry, we lose our best cursebreaker and wardsmaster," Emmeline scowled, dipping her chips in ranch. Tonks sat up and watched, wrinkling her nose, then snagged a chip from the plate. Em glanced at her, but didn't say a word, and Shack scowled.
"If we lose Harry, we're fucked anyway," Tonks said sourly. "Besides, he's a good kid. He deserves someone looking out for him."
Yeah, Charlie thought darkly, but it's my brother's head on the chopping block.
Shack cleared his throat, and the two witches turned to look at him. "Lupin has been going through the vials that he and George found, and he's been able to ID a few new Death Eaters. Four of them are dead, but two are still alive. He's going to put in an anonymous tip for us to check out."
"Who?" Tonks asked, her eyes flashing and her hair going a deep blood red.
"Amycus and Alecto Carrow," Shack replied. His teeth flashed a brilliant white as he grinned.
"Weren't they suspected of working with Rookwood?" Em asked interestedly, and Tonks nodded.
"Never could prove a thing," she muttered.
Rookwood. Once upon a time, the guy was his dad's best friend. Charlie scowled again as the thought crossed his mind. His dad, his sweet, bumbling, cheerful dad, best friends with an Unspeakable who turned out to be a Death Eater, apparently having worked with the psycho known as Klaus Brand…
Nothing made sense anymore. He missed his dragons. Leave, a voice echoed in his mind.
"I want to go back," he muttered, and Tonks looked at him sharply as Em and Shack frowned at him.
"Sorry, what?" Em asked, and Charlie shook his head. He set his barely touched pint down on the tabletop with a thud and pushed to his feet. Tonks slid out of the booth immediately to let him pass.
"I'm gonna turn in early tonight," Charlie said quietly. "A lot to do tomorrow."
"Me too," Tonks added quickly, "I should go grab the girls and head home."
"Yeah," Shack chuckled, "they're probably sick of being babysat by Viktor."
"I bet Ginny isn't," Em said with a grin, and Charlie looked at her sharply. Em winked at him, and he shook his head with disgust.
"Night, guys," Tonks said laughingly, and she wrapped her hand around the crook of Charlie's arm and steered him from the pub.
It was pitch-black already, and the air was cool enough that he wished he had his cloak. Tonks shivered in the cold and frowned up at him as they walked down the alley aimlessly.
"What's wrong?" she asked quietly.
Don't answer her.
"I don't know," he said after a moment, frowning. He stopped walking, pressed the palm of his hand to his eyes. "Crikey, I have a headache."
He opened his eyes and found Tonks staring at him, her brow furrowed and biting anxiously at her lip. "Charlie, what – "
Dammit, I'm fine! He grimaced, shaking his head to clear it, and let out a sigh as the world seemed to focus again. "I'm okay, just tired." He smiled at Tonks reassuringly, then wrapped his arm around her and proceeded to drag her to the ice cream shop, laughing when she swore at him.
But the eerie sense of detachment didn't leave him, and Charlie shivered. His father's voice echoed in his mind. Wake up, Charlie.
I'm FINE, Charlie thought angrily, and he shook his head and bought his gorgeous best friend the biggest ice cream cone ever made.
Shell Cottage
Tinworth, Cornwall
Harry Potter was pissed right the bloody hell off.
He scoffed angrily, shoving the tome away with a scowl as he sprang up from the chair by his desk. He couldn't stand it anymore, couldn't stand hours and hours of sitting there, poring over ancient bloody books written in Parseltongue, hiding, while everyone else was –
He threw himself down on his bed and shoved his hands into his hair, groaning.
His old temper was flaring up, badly, and he knew it. Hermione had taken one look at his steadily darkening expression and immediately declared she had to go help Viktor with some project. Ginny had rolled her eyes, told Harry he was being stupid, and huffed all the way to the fireplace, then Floo'd off to the Burrow. Even Luna had lost patience with him eventually, leaving him to his own devices over three hours before and going down to the living room to read alone.
Tonks had come to pick Hermione and Luna up an hour before, and Luna had run up, pecked him on the cheek, and left without a word. Hermione hadn't even come upstairs.
Harry sighed. He needed to calm the bloody hell down. But at least the walls hadn't rattled. No breakables had shattered. His control was better than it used to be.
Unlike…
A knock sounded on his door, and Harry looked up as Bill pushed the door open cautiously, with none of his usual easy confidence. The eldest Weasley son looked exhausted, dark circles under his eyes, his hair hanging a bit lank, his clothes rumpled. He seemed hesitant, his eyes shadowed, and he stood there for a moment looking at Harry silently.
This was not the man Harry had gotten used to.
"So… can we talk?" Bill asked quietly, and Harry snorted.
"Oh, you're talking to me now?" he said harshly, and he sighed when Bill actually flinched.
"I deserve that," the cursebreaker said quietly, moving to sit at Harry's desk chair. The older man looked at him searchingly, then looked away, and Harry sighed again.
"I thought I should give you some space," Bill said haltingly after a moment of silence. "I know how you feel about other people being in harm's way, and I thought that you might think I didn't care how – "
"What I thought," Harry cut in, "was that you were the one adult in my life that wasn't lying to me."
Bill flinched again, then scrubbed a hand across his face. He fiddled with the dragon tooth earring, eyes fixed on some random point on the wall.
"Why?" Harry asked, "why on earth would you do that? You know I'm – why would you tie your life to mine?"
Bill shrugged. "Dumbledore didn't trust my intentions," he said quietly. "Nothing was going to convince him, short of him believing my life was on the line if I didn't take care of you. Seemed like the thing to do was exactly that."
"Well, it wasn't," Harry said sharply, and Bill turned his head and finally looked straight at the teen. Harry shrank back a bit at the anger in Bill's eyes.
"I disagree," the cursebreaker said coolly. "It was what was needed. I'd do it again."
Harry stared at the man. "But now, when I die – "
"If," Bill cut him off, then grinned at Harry. "If you die. We'll just have to find a way to win without dying, kid."
Harry shook his head. "You're mad."
"What, are you telling me you don't want to live?" Bill said immediately. "Defy the odds, Harry. It's fun." And the normal glint of mischief came back into the cursebreaker's eyes.
Harry looked at his guardian with a frown, then shook his head again, smiling ruefully. "What about Fleur?" he asked softly, and Bill grimaced. "Does she know?"
"She was there," Bill replied.
"When?" Harry asked. "I mean, how long – "
The older man frowned, looking away again. "I did it during the last Order meeting. Right after I sent you home."
"So the whole Inner Circle of the Order knew," Harry muttered.
"Yes."
And none of them told me, Harry thought bitterly. Figures. "So now, every time I go into a fight, I could be killing you. I've had enough of people dying for me, Bill."
The wall clock chimed midnight as Bill laughed hollowly. "Harry, I could die every time I step onto a dig site. I could die every time I go to build or dismantle a set of wards. Hell, the times we live in, I could die just stepping into Diagon Alley. Besides, I was never gonna just let you fight alone anyway. You might not have noticed this, but I've been walking into battles of my own accord." He shook his head, his long hair half-hiding his face. "You can't worry about me, kid. That's not your job – you do whatever you need to do, and the rest will sort itself out."
"I can't not think about it," Harry said tersely, dropping his head into his hands with a defeated sigh.
"Which is why I wasn't going to tell you," Bill said easily, and Harry peered up at him and glared. The man grinned back. Turning to face the desk, Bill asked curiously, "Any progress?"
Harry shook his head but went along with the change of subject. Pushing up to his feet, he walked over to stand beside the cursebreaker, glaring down at the Slytherin tome. "The books were mostly the same throughout. One was all maps, one potions, one spells. One of them had a bunch of old theories that Hermione went nuts over. I didn't understand a word of it."
Bill chuckled.
"This one, though – it's pure gibberish, as far as I can tell," Harry said with frustration, turning one of the pages absently.
Bill sat back in the seat and frowned thoughtfully, looking down at the book. "That's probably a disguise to hide something," he said quietly.
"That's what Hermione said," Harry nodded, "but if it is, we haven't been able to figure out how to break it yet."
He rubbed absently at his neck, frowning at the sting as he turned his head, and Bill's eyes narrowed on his throat.
"You didn't heal that," his guardian said quietly, and Harry shrugged.
"I wanted the reminder," he replied, and Bill stared at him steadily. The cut had mostly scabbed over, but there was one spot which just hadn't closed. Blood welled up again on the surface of the cut, and Harry swiped at it impatiently.
"That wasn't your fault, kid," Bill murmured. "It was mine. You never should have been in that position. This was supposed to be a haven, and I brought a threat into it."
"He got the better of me too easily," Harry disagreed, shaking his head. "I need to remember. Besides…" Harry's eyes narrowed as he stared at Bill. "Why did you kidnap him, anyway?"
Bill sighed, sitting up straighter in the chair, and Harry perched on the edge of the desk, watching the older man warily. "I wanted to make sure I knew exactly what they had done to you," he replied slowly. "I've tried, but Dad won't tell me, and I couldn't bring myself to torture my own father if that was what it took to get the truth."
Harry stared.
"But also," Bill shook his head, pushing up from the chair and pacing across the room. "Brand is one of the foremost experts in the world on certain types of ancient magic. He's forgotten more in that arena than most people have ever known. And he didn't seem interested in sharing much, from what little I was able to find out in Germany."
That explained why Bill had been so friendly towards the man at first, Harry thought ruefully.
"Even with Legilimency, I couldn't get much information out of him," Bill continued. "Not without being able to completely control the situation. So… I took control of the situation. I managed to trap him in my workshop, and I took what I needed."
"What?" Harry asked worriedly, staring at the older man. "What did you steal?"
"His memories," Bill said shortly, and Harry went cold.
"Of what?"
Bill stopped pacing and turned his head to glance at Harry. "Everything."
Harry lost his balance, nearly slipping on the desk. He barely caught himself, grabbing onto the edge of the desk and wrapping his hand around the wrinkled parchment of the tome behind him. "What?"
"It was necessary," Bill bit off tersely, and Harry shook his head. "He's not a friend, Harry, he's the enemy."
"Bill, that is wrong," Harry said urgently, and Bill shot him a dark look.
"He had a knife to your throat the other day, and my sister and most of your friends trapped behind a deadly ward," Bill shot back. "And yeah, with the procedure, he did exactly what Dad said; there was no sign he did anything to deliberately harm you or tamper with things. But Harry, he reveled in your pain. He enjoyed every second of it," the eldest Weasley son said angrily, his face twisting in a dark expression. Harry felt a strong disquiet. "He is a sick, twisted fuck, and he does not deserve your sympathy."
Harry just stared at the man, shaking his head. "You're colder than I thought you were," he said calmly, and Bill's mouth quirked in a rueful grin.
"I'm going to have to be," Bill replied matter-of-factly, and the disquiet in Harry grew.
But Bill wasn't looking at him anymore – he was looking past Harry, staring at the desk. The cursebreaker moved quickly across the room, his eyes narrowed, and Harry shot up from the desk, spinning around to stare at the book.
There was a smudge of blood on the edge of the open page, where Harry had touched the book after wiping blood from his neck. As Harry watched, the blood rose up on the page, pooling together, then slid across the parchment and trailed over the characters on the page. The characters glowed then shifted, sliding across the parchment and rearranging, and Harry smiled.
"Well, I'll be damned," Bill muttered.
Harry reached for his communicator charm and called to Hermione. The sleepy voice of his best friend replied almost immediately. I've got it, Harry told her. Get over here.
Hirta Island, St. Kilna
Outer Hebrides, Scotland
August 21, 1996
"Blimey, it's bloody stuffy back here," Ron muttered, and Harry grunted in agreement. But no matter how stuffy the air, looking around himself, Harry felt a slight chill.
Ron had finally returned from his training with Moody the night before, and had immediately come to the cottage. The pair stood on an overgrown trail in the woods, a few miles from the dilapidated ruins of abandoned stone cottages. Ahead, Neville walked with Ginny and Luna on either side, all three of them with their wands out. A short distance behind them, Hermione was hanging back with Shacklebolt and Lupin, their ex-professor gesturing emphatically as Hermione and Shack listened.
Bill was moving steadily through the underbrush ahead of them all, some weird little creature that almost looked like a yeti at his side. Or, it would have looked like a yeti, if it wasn't glowing. The not-yeti was pushing aside the largest of the branches and stones in the path, clearing the way for Bill so he didn't need to take his attention away from watching for traps. A strange circle with tentacle-like arms followed Bill's steps, surrounding his feet, and Harry looked down at his own, green-tentacled circle with a frown. All of them had one, all different colors.
All creepy.
He wasn't sure what on earth this spell was, but he didn't like it.
"It doesn't seem like anyone has been here for a long time," Harry replied finally, glancing back over his shoulder. Hermione had stopped at a bend in the path and was staring avidly through a gap in the trees, Lupin hovering at her shoulder and Shack moving forward to investigate.
"That's good, though, right?" Neville said suddenly, and Harry started as he looked up – he hadn't noticed the other boy had fallen back to join them. Further up the trail Ginny was frowning back at them as she and Luna stood waiting. "Means Voldemort probably hasn't found this place."
"Or he's covered his tracks," Ron said grimly, his mouth set in a thin line. The redhead raised one arm and rubbed at the back of his neck with a sigh, and Harry eyed him nervously.
His best friend had come back from his week's training with Moody more changed than a week should have done, and Harry was worried. And it wasn't just the obvious physical changes – Ron had obviously gotten more muscled – but his attitude had hardened in a way that made Harry scared for his friend.
"More likely," Harry agreed with a sigh, turning his thoughts back to the conversation. He glanced up the trail again and saw that Bill had stopped, standing before a large copse of trees, his head tilted back as he stared up at something. The not-yeti had stilled beside him, and both seemed to just be waiting.
Harry looked back over his shoulder as another chill ran through him. Shack had come back from his detour off the path, meeting Hermione and Lupin with a shake of his head, and the three had started forward to join the rest of the group. He turned and stared off down the path behind them, his mind racing.
The island where they stood had been inhabited for over 2,000 years, or so they had learned, before being abandoned back in the 30s. On the furthest end, there was a Muggle military outpost, but aside from a minimal staff, there was no human life on this island. Bill, Lupin and Shacklebolt had cast every spell they could think of for detection, and everything confirmed they were alone.
But Harry could swear he felt something watching them.
"What the bloody hell is he doing?" Ron muttered darkly, and Harry turned back to see his best friend frowning at his oldest brother.
Bill had stepped back, dropping something small on the ground at his feet, and conjured a glowing blue ward that looked almost like a giant sheet of diamond. The light that reached through the trees seemed to stop at the ward, and the space behind was pitch black. Somebody brushed by Harry, and he glanced to his right to see Shacklebolt moving forward quickly, his eyes narrowed on the open, seemingly empty space.
As he watched, Bill raised his hands in the air and, as Shack reached his side, a loud crack rent the air, like thunder without a storm. The object on the ground glowed a brilliant blue, and a blinding light shot up from the item, colliding with the diamond-like ward. The ground shook beneath their feet, and Lupin grabbed Hermione's arm to steady her as the girl stumbled. Harry reached out without thinking, taking the girl's hand and squeezing it gently, but he stared at the scene ahead of them without blinking.
The light spread across the surface of the ward. They flickered once, twice, then vanished, another crack sounding in the air.
And ahead, the forest seemed to shimmer, then some of the trees disappeared, and a crumbling stone road appeared, winding off into the darkness. It was dotted here and there with small stone pillars, some of them plain, some of them carved in elaborate figures.
There were, Harry noticed, more than a couple snakes in the mix.
Bill and Shacklebolt exchanged a grim look, and Lupin stepped forward to join them.
"Well," Lupin said quietly as Harry and the others caught up, "this definitely suggests we're on the right track."
"Or the very, very wrong one," Shack said grimly, his dark eyes narrowed as he stared down the path.
Neville snorted, and Harry, Ron and Hermione, who had stepped forward to stand between the two boys, looked at each other for a long moment. After a second, Ron grinned, Harry shrugged, and Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes.
"Okay then," Harry said with a scowl, "let's test this theory."
"Remember, only if the guardian seems to be coming after someone," Bill warned him, and Harry nodded sharply. Bill pulled his hair back in a rough ponytail and narrowed his eyes down the pathway. "Everyone get ready. This could be nothing, or it could be really dramatic."
One step behind Harry, Ron and Hermione fell in place to either side of him and drew their wands, scowling. Shack and Lupin fell back, Lupin standing at the back of the group, Shack right beside Neville.
"Here's hoping for nothing," Bill quipped, and he stepped forward onto the road.
Immediately, the ground shook, and a giant ghostly basilisk appeared floating before him, hissing angrily. Harry heard Ginny shriek and he darted forward.
"You dare?" the shimmering basilisk hissed, moving through the air towards Bill, and behind it, another half-dozen smaller apparitions came out of the pillars. "You dare awaken me?"
Harry jumped onto the road, Hermione and Ron at his heels, and skidded to a halt as the largest basilisk began to dive downwards –
"Stop!" he hissed in an almost-scream, and the apparitions froze.
Slowly, the shimmering basilisk spun in the air, turning until it was facing Harry. Harry swallowed nervously – could this thing kill or petrify? he thought frantically…
But he was still standing.
"A Speaker," the basilisk hissed with a tone that almost sounded like confusion. "There has not been a Speaker here since – "
The apparition trailed off, hovering in the air before Harry. "You are welcome here, Speaker," the basilisk hissed. "Your companions, however – "
"They're with me," Harry hissed back forcefully, and the basilisk drew back slightly.
"The two littlest witches feel familiar," the basilisk hissed back, "but not the one who woke me. His treachery – "
Here, the basilisk spun to glare at Bill again, and the cursebreaker just quirked an eyebrow.
"They are with me," Harry said sternly. "Allow them safe passage any time they wish to come here. Stop anyone who tries to harm them."
"Is that a command, Little Speaker?" the basilisk asked with what seemed like amusement.
"Yes," Harry hissed back, and the basilisk nodded imperially, drawing back from Bill.
"As you command, Little Speaker. Well met." And the basilisk vanished in a glimmer of light, the others melting back into the pillars.
Harry stood perfectly still for a moment as everyone stared. Finally, after a moment, Ron moved, stepping forward onto the crumbling road. The others let out sighs of relief when nothing happened.
"You know," Bill said, "I don't think it liked me." The not-yeti by his side wagged its tail.
Harry just glared at the older man. "What would have happened if it had touched you?" he demanded.
Bill grinned. "Might have tickled a bit," he replied, and Ron and Ginny both choked back a laugh. Bill clapped Harry on the shoulder and turned on his heel, moving jauntily down the path. "Come on!" he called back to the rest of the group. "Let's see what we see!"
Harry and Hermione exchanged an incredulous look as Ron and Ginny immediately followed their brother, the others trailing behind. Hermione – who, he realized, had grabbed his hand at some point in the confusion – squeezed his hand lightly and shook her head, and they set off after their friends.
The White Wyvern
London, England
"I can't imagine the suffering," Lucius Malfoy chuckled, his snifter of brandy dangling from his fingers as he leaned back in the armchair. "Staff meetings with Dumbledore and Sprout, how have you survived it all these years?"
Snape smirked slightly, raising his glass to his lips as he stared absently at the flames dancing across the hearth. "I have a powerful imagination," he said dryly, quirking one eyebrow as he shot a look at his old friend.
"Oh, now that I can believe," Malfoy chortled, his eyes dancing. "Still, the pain must be intense."
Snape just scoffed, shaking his head. "My friend, you are too soft."
"We both know that isn't true," Malfoy said slyly, his free hand wrapping around his cane. "You speak from envy that you can't join in the festivities tonight."
Snape grunted. Really, the man never knew when to shut up. "Just do a couple for me, would you?"
Malfoy grinned ferally. "With pleasure." The elegant man set his glass down on the side table, straightening his robes as he stood. "Narcissa is on the continent, and I would like some sport. I'm going to go hunting in Knockturn, find something to take the edge off – care to join me?"
Snape shook his head, his face impassive. He slammed back the whiskey in his glass and set the tumbler down with a sharp thud. "I prefer a different kind of hunting," he said smoothly. In his mind, two sets of eyes flashed – vastly different in appearance, and yet so similar in what those eyes held. He drew a sharp breath as he felt himself stir.
Malfoy's lips twisted in a grimace as he looked down at the other man. "Old friend, your idea of hunting is too much even for me," the aristocrat murmured. Snape smirked as Malfoy clapped him on the shoulder. "Well, if you're certain…"
The other man paused a moment, and Snape inclined his head. With a sharp nod back, Malfoy tossed a handful of coins on the table and swept out of the tavern.
Snape sat there silently for a moment, staring into the flames as he breathed slowly, carefully, trying to maintain control. After a short time, he placed a single gold coin on the edge of his chair and stood, striding quickly from the building. He turned a corner and slipped into the alley behind the tavern, Disapparating almost immediately.
The street on which he reappeared was quiet in the darkness, the glow of lampposts the only light to be found. He did a quick, cursory check of his surroundings, then set off down the street, quickly mounting the steps of a quaint little brownstone. Before he could raise his hand to knock, the door swung open.
"Professor!" Emma Granger exclaimed, a friendly smile on her face. "We weren't expecting you for another week."
Severus smiled.
The Atrium
Ministry of Magic
London, England
August 22, 1996
Arthur was, to put it simply, exhausted.
It was just gone midnight, and he was finally on his way home to Molly. Another long day of juggling had driven him nearly six feet under, and he simply…
His wife, ever-tolerant and ever-forgiving, kept asking him why he was at work so much. His eldest son no longer trusted him and was behaving foolishly at best. His youngest two were on the front lines of a war, and truthfully, all his kids but Percy were mixed up in the mess. And he –
He wasn't sure how much longer he could withstand the life he was living. Twenty-five years was a long time to keep a secret.
Maybe he really should tell Bill. Of all his children, he thought Bill, and maybe Ron, would be the ones to understand. Although… Bill. He had been trying, had been using every resource and contact he had, as discretely as possible… and still, he could not figure out what his eldest had done to himself.
He stopped in his tracks, scrubbing a hand over his face as spots swam before his eyes. Pushing yourself too hard, old boy, he thought derisively, and he shook his head to clear it before opening his eyes again.
And a strange glimmer from the nearest fireplace caught his eye.
Arthur turned slowly, gazing steadily at the Floo hub. The nature of his true job meant that he was well-versed in every spell, every protection that ran through the Ministry. Every change, he was made aware of, and every update ran through him and his team before being put into motion.
And the spells on the fireplace were wrong.
He glanced quickly up and down the Atrium, a chill running down his spine. Even at this late hour, at least a dozen people were bustling about. The lifts were still sounding behind him, and he knew with certainty there were people on at least four different floors.
Then the nearest fireplace activated of its own accord, the flames glowing a brilliant green, and Arthur raised his wand to his throat. "Sonorous," he whispered, then shouted, "Shields!"
He snapped a shield around himself as all the Floos activated, and a few feet away, two startled wizards and one angry looking witch did the same. The others in the Atrium had skidded to a halt, staring in confusion. Arthur sighed tiredly, snapping off a Patronus to the check-in wizard. Activate Protocol 37, he sent, and within minutes, he felt the defensive wards snapping into place around the building. The floors shook and the lights flickered then died, and the lift clattered to a halt behind him.
Arthur felt himself go cold. The lights weren't supposed to be out. That wasn't part of Protocol.
And then the nearest Floo stilled, and the dead poured into the Atrium.
Arthur felt a thrill of fear as he stared at the snarling, clawing, biting things. They stumbled and piled up as they fell out of the Floo, climbing over each other in their haste to reach a living target. With a muttered swear, he shook himself and conjured jet of fire, flinging the flames into the rush of Inferi. He saw the angry witch nearby get overtaken, falling to the floor and screaming wetly as the creatures mauled her alive, and swallowed back bile as he continued to shoot flames towards the oncoming monsters.
As his mind screamed in horror, Arthur backed away a few steps, eyes on the mass of creatures, and managed to reach the edge of the room. He slapped his palm onto the keystone and whispered the activation, and instantly, rows of flames sprang up from the floor throughout the room, and Inferi screamed hauntingly as they burned alive.
But there were too many, and they were still coming, and a quick check of the room showed everyone else was already down.
For all their vaunted protections, all their careful planning – thirty seconds and the Ministry had been overrun. There had been no plan for this.
Flames flickering in his eyes, Arthur spun on his heel in the darkness, racing for the lift. He keyed in his override with a shaking hand as he heard the creatures scrambling along the marble behind him, and flung himself into the lift, the grate closing just in time. The dead howled in frustration, some of them reaching their arms through the bars, and Arthur leaned back against the furthest wall, steadily staring them down. The ones with limbs reaching for him shrieked as the lift plummeted, slicing off their arms, and Arthur shot a ball of flames at the writing limbs as they landed on the floor of the lift, scrabbling towards him of their own accord. The severed arms went still in the flames, turning to ash almost instantly, and as Arthur heard the thud of creatures landing on the roof of the lift, he keyed in the floor for the Department of Mysteries.
The Ministry proper might have been lost, but he'd be damned if Voldemort would get everything.
The lift screeched to a halt, and Arthur's heart thudded in his throat as he heard the snarling grow louder. Ahead, he could see shadows moving in the darkness. Somehow, the things had reached the other floors.
There was nothing for it, then. He had sworn never to use that spell again – and the destruction wrought on Privet Drive had just solidified that. But it was that or…
He slammed the lift grate open, searing flames shooting from his wand and springing down the hall as fiery dragons, chimaeras, and all manner of beasts galloped from the center of the flames. The air around him was scorching and he could hardly breathe. His lungs felt like they were on fire as he darted to the side and raced down the hall, ducking and dodging past the arms reaching for him, flames right on his heels and overtaking the hallway. The screams of the Inferi split the air and he shivered at the horror, slamming through the doors into the Department of Mysteries.
Hi mind rebelled at the truth, but he couldn't save everything, and so he went straight for room eleven, his hand shaking as he pressed on the activation panel, and behind him, he heard the main door give way, heard the scrambling of the dead –
The panel slid aside and the door swung open, and Arthur jumped through and slammed the stone door behind himself. A sickening crunch sounded, and a single rotted finger fell to the ground at his feet. He let out a shaky breath and pressed his wand to the door, activating every defense the room held, and ran for the shelves, conjuring a huge burlap bag and sweeping everything into the bag as his hands shook. One talisman fell to the ground, its jewel chipping on the stone floor, and Arthur swore angrily as the echoes of a long-dead enchantress sounded in the room. He shot a silencing spell at the talisman, carefully levitating it into the bag, and cast one last, frantic look around the room as the door began to shake and buckle behind him.
And there – on the wall nearest the door. The one thing he couldn't leave.
Arthur drew a steadying breath as the door shook again, and dove across the room, snatching the small, nondescript box from the shelf and throwing it into the bag. A sonic boom sounded as the wards collapsed, and he reached up with shaking hands and pressed a finger to his tie pin. As the door finally gave way, and the dead came rushing in, he whispered "Portus."
The snarling creatures surged towards him, and one managed to wrap a skeletal hand around his arm, but he shook the creature off just as he was pulled away, thrown through time and space as his stomach heaved and his mind whirled. He landed on the sand, his knees buckling, and cried out as the burns along his body screamed to life against the coarse ground. Through bleary eyes, he saw someone running, a shadowy figure making its way across the dunes, and he looked up, only to drop his head as the effort of supporting it became too much.
"Dad?" Bill whispered, his voice choked with horror and fear, and Arthur fell the rest of the way to the ground.
Dimly, he heard Bill ordering Harry back to the cottage, and everything went dark.
Minister's Manor
London, England
Cornelius Fudge stood in the window, staring out at the wreckage of Diagon Alley. The Ministry was still burning, flames shooting up into the sky in the form of dragons, snakes, chimaeras, and all along the Alley, the dead ambled up and down the street, snatching anyone foolish enough to be outside.
He shuddered as he stared out the window, looking down at the destruction. Beside him, Rufus Scrimgeour stood stiff as a board, his tawny eyes narrowed with hate.
Rufus didn't know how the Minister had known there was a threat, but he was never going to forget that the man had run, rather than do something.
He was certain he stood next to his enemy.
Below, the flames spread to Ollivander's shop. Rufus felt sick.
On his other side, Pius Thicknesse was doing a great impression of sorrow, the man's wide-eyed stare all but dripping with horror and compassion. Rufus snorted mentally, never bothering to glance the other man's direction. He'd taken Thicknesse's measure already, had seen the kind of man the other wizard was.
He just wasn't sure yet what he could do about it.
But Rufus was a simple man – calculating, yes, determined, yes, but still simple. And he believed there was always something that could be done.
"How did you know?" Fudge asked shakily, and Thicknesse let out a slow breath before he replied, his voice weary.
"A reliable informant," he said quietly, and Rufus quirked a brow at the man as he shook his head. "He told me only that there was to be an attempt – I had no idea the magnitude…"
"Of course you didn't," Fudge said bracingly, and Rufus snorted aloud this time.
"The positive is that at least, with you safe, you can rebuild," Thicknesse said earnestly.
Rufus stepped back from the window, a cold dread filling his bones. As he turned away, he heard Fudge say, "I think my Deputy was working late tonight. They probably…"
And that was the end game, he thought wearily. Eliminate the Ministry building, all its defenses and take all its resources. And at the same time, get someone in power.
He walked out of the room without a backwards glance.
Rufus wasn't sure exactly where he was going yet, but even the Inferi-overrun streets were better than staying in that room.
Maybe Shacklebolt or Bones would know something.
Rufus let out a shaky breath, walked out of the building, and disappeared.
Shell Cottage
Tinworth, Cornwall
A heavy silence surrounded them as they sat on the sands.
Harry sat with his knees pulled up to his chest. To his right, Ginny lay with her head pillowed on Ron's knee, her brother rubbing her back every so often as she sobbed. They had gotten confirmation an hour before that Percy had been in the Ministry when it was overrun, and he hadn't escaped.
On Harry's left, Neville sat back to back with Luna, the pair of them drawing absently in the sand. Hermione was standing along the shore a few feet away, her posture stiff and her head bowed.
He didn't know how to help any of them, and he felt absolutely helpless.
Behind them, the cottage was lit up against the early morning hours. There were more people in the cottage than Harry had seen in all his time living there. From the moment Arthur Weasley had appeared on the shore, all had gone to chaos. He closed his eyes as the image of the kindly man, his flesh torn and charred, appeared in his mind.
Bill had sprung into action immediately, sending Harry to go summon Pomfrey and Dumbledore as he gathered up his father, and the rucksack he was clinging to for dear life. The sack had disappeared – probably under lock and key in his workshop – and as far as Harry knew, no mention of it had been made to Dumbledore.
And for all their differences lately, Bill hadn't left his father's bedside as Pomfrey hovered around him, casting spell after spell to stabilize the man. They weren't sure how he had done it, but somehow, he had burned himself externally, overloaded his magical core, and burned or singed every single one of his internal organs.
At the moment, they weren't sure if he was going to pull through. Harry felt numb thinking about it. He'd never been especially close with the Weasley patriarch, but the man had invited Harry into his home and his family without a second thought. He couldn't imagine a world without the man's steady influence.
A shout sounded from the house behind them, and Ginny tensed. Harry and Ron exchanged a quick look and Ron gently wrapped his hands around Ginny's shoulders, shifting her up. Neville moved immediately, putting an arm around the tiny redhead, and scooted her over until she was leaning into him. The girl never opened her eyes, just collapsed again, still crying.
Harry pushed himself up onto his feet as Ron rose smoothly, and Luna watched them sadly as Hermione half-turned to glance back at the house. A quick look at Harry and he shook his head, and Hermione nodded before turning back to her study of the waves.
Harry and Ron crossed the dunes quickly, opening the cottage door to find Charlie and Molly joyously hugging the twins, who stood in the center of the room, their robes singed and soot covering their faces. Between them was a single, battered trunk, and the two were barely on their feet. As Harry watched, Pomfrey bustled into the room, ushering them to the couch, and Harry clapped Ron on the shoulder as his best friend practically sagged in relief.
A glance to his left showed Dumbledore standing in the kitchen with Lupin, Shacklebolt, Amelia Bones, Fleur, Tonks... and some grizzly-looking wizard he didn't recognize. The man almost looked like a lion, with a golden mane for a beard and sharp, tawny eyes. As Harry watched, the man's gaze locked on to him, and his eyes widened, and Harry stepped back immediately, heading back for the door.
Bill was still with his father, he was sure, and Harry wasn't going to interrupt. A glance at the ward keystone by the door had Harry making a face.
When Bill calmed down, he was going to flip about all the people who were inside his wards.
Harry headed back down the porch steps and back down to the shore, starting slightly when he realized Ron was still in lock-step with him. He had half-expected his best friend to stay with his family… but he supposed knowing the twins were okay was enough.
But no matter how obnoxious Percy may have been, the fact remained that Ron's brother was dead, and his father was not out of the woods.
He lowered himself back onto the sand, swallowing hard, and looked down to see Ginny force herself into a sitting position. Neville still hovered at her side, one hand on her back, and the normally fiery girl was staring blankly at the waves.
"Gone," she said finally, hollowly. "It's all gone."
"And a week before we were supposed to go back to school," Luna whispered.
"How can we now?" Neville asked, his eyes shadowed as he scowled. "How can we act like everything is normal?"
"We have to go back."
The three friends started, staring at Hermione. The curly-haired girl still stood with her back to them, gazing out over the ocean. After a moment of silence, Hermione spun around, looking at the three of them, then smiling sadly at Harry and Ron.
Slowly, Ron nodded. "With the Ministry out of the way, and Diagon Alley in shambles, Hogwarts is the next logical target."
"And we have to be there to help protect it," Hermione said softly.
"Not all of us," Harry argued. "I could – "
"Go play guardian while the rest of us hide?" Ginny asked waspishly, and Harry flinched. "I don't think so, Potter. We all go, or none of us go."
"And we need to be there, at least for now," Ron added calmly, and Harry let out a tired sigh.
Luna smiled sadly, her golden moth humming from its perch on her shoulder. Neville just sat there, staring back and forth between all of them for a long moment, before finally, he grimaced.
"All I know is, we'd better find that damned fortress fast," he muttered, and Hermione raised an eyebrow at him. The stocky Gryffindor boy looked her dead in the eye and said firmly, "We're gonna fucking need it before this is over."
"Summon the DA," Harry said suddenly. "Ginny, why don't you go check on Bill, and let him know we're going to the Rookery? See if Tonks and Shack will come with us, or Moony." He scowled in the moonlight. "We need to get our act together. I'm tired of running. It's time we stop playing defense."
Ginny grinned viciously, the moonlight shining off the tear tracks on her face.
