Chapter Ten: Holing Up
A thick sense of gloom had settled over the cramped quarters of the Burrow. Upon his return, his robes bloody and filthy from debris, Dumbledore had to relay the awful news to the now traumatized Weasleys. Molly had sunk to her knees, issuing strangled gasps. It never got easier telling a mother her child was dead. No matter how many doors he had knocked on during the war, Dumbledore always felt his heart twist in a sickening fashion as sheer devastation consumed them. He had left the family in the kitchen to mourn alone, feeling as though his very presence was rubbing in his failure to save Percy.
Dumbledore was mourning as well. News of Severus's death had reached him, alongside a hollowing sensation in the pit of his stomach. Over the years, Severus had become the person he confided most in; about the war, about his many theories. The man, though his view on humanity was skewed, offered valuable insights into the inner workings of Voldemort. And, though he would sneer at the compliment, he was a solid confidant, who would listen patiently to hours of Dumbledore's complex and somewhat convoluted speeches. Another failure. Another life needlessly ended.
Now, he was standing over a badly injured Sirius Black, closely examining his wounds. Perhaps this at least, he could fix.
"Professor?" a hesitant voice floated towards him. Dumbledore turned, feeling his chest tighten.
"Harry," he said softly, gesturing for the boy to come beside him. Harry shuffled obediently, staring intently at his godfather as he did so.
"Will he be alright?" Dumbledore sighed, watching Harry tense when he did so. Immediately feeling guilty, he cleared his throat in what he hoped would be a reassuring manner.
"Yes, he will. I dare say he will be awake shortly." A few heartbeats ticked by, Harry's shoulders sagging with relief as Dumbledore healed the charred skin anew. They sat simultaneously on the coffee table, Harry leaning forward to rest his elbows on his thighs.
"I know I have said this before, but your bravery and selflessness continue to amaze me, Harry." Harry's mouth twitched but he said nothing. "I heard of your actions at Grimmauld Place. Truly, you are a remarkable young man."
"Thank you," he mumbled, hands clenching his oversized jeans.
"Sir," he spoke up, his voice suddenly stronger, "what do you think is going on? Is it Voldemort?" Dumbledore took a while to carefully formulate his words, wondering how forthcoming he should be.
"Voldemort seemed the most likely candidate," he started slowly. "To my knowledge, there are no other wizards with the capability of executing such massive devastation." Harry looked up, not missing the past tense.
"Seemed?" Dumbledore sighed.
"You have heard what transpired at the Ministry?" Harry nodded. "Well, to my utmost surprise, a certain Lucius Malfoy had turned, along with several other prominent Death Eaters." Harry's eyes widened.
"But then, who else could have done it? Who else hates Muggles that much?" Dumbledore did not respond right away, not wanting to burden a boy who had already seen too much in his young life. He spared a glance over to the green eyes boldly boring into his own.
"It is too early to tell, but I am beginning to think that this might not have magical origins at all." Harry's eyes darted around the room, something he always did when his mind was frantically putting the pieces together.
"But then, why are they immune to magic? Why can some of them do magic?" Harry asked, the words tumbled from his lips.
"I have been wondering the same thing, each explanation more unlikely than the last." His stomach squirmed slightly, chastising himself for dumping this on Harry. Had he not vowed this summer to allow Harry to experience some normalcy? To shield him as best he could from the upcoming horrors, at least for a little bit? But then, today was an extraordinary day, and Harry truly was an extraordinary boy. Had he not proved himself worthy by now?
"But… but… there's a way to stop this, right?" he asked. Dumbledore swallowed a lump in his throat at the desperation in his eyes. More than ever, he wished he had the answers.
"I will do everything in my power," he promised. "We must take extra precautions to safeguard everyone in this house. That means I'm afraid that your talent for bending the rules will have to be disposed of for now. You understand, I hope." Harry nodded in a way that was much too accepting for someone so young.
"Where do we go from here?"
"Right now, Harry, we regroup. I do not wish to take anymore hasty measures until we have carefully thought things through." Harry looked as though he was about to protest but Dumbledore swiftly interjected. "Yes, Harry. We must not lose any more lives; I think you would agree with that." A deep shame flitted across the teenager's narrow face and Harry seemed to shrink into himself.
"Of course." They lapsed into a strained silence, only broken by the stirrings of the man in front of them. Harry sucked in a breath as Sirius murmured something. When nothing more happened, he let out a ragged sigh.
Dumbledore longed to continue to sit there, to offer him comfort. But, he knew he needed to start planning their next move, and more importantly, making the Burrow as indestructible as possible. While no zombies had been seen near here yet, it was only a matter of time. Wincing as he stood up, he gave a small smile, which was returned. Dumbledore seized the spark of hope it gave him, vowing right then and there to fix this. For Harry's sake.
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Grief was a funny thing. As a child, Harry had never really experienced it. After all, being as deprived as he was, he never had much to grieve over. With Cedric, he had repressed his feelings successfully, so that they only disturbed him in horrifying night terrors.
But now, with the Dursleys, Moody, Percy, and yes, even Snape all dead, Harry was overwhelmed with the foreign emotions rampaging through his mind. He didn't know whether to sob as several Weasleys were now doing or sit there staring blankly at the wall. And, how was he to comfort Ron, who had just lost a brother? He couldn't hold his mate like he had Hermione. A shameful part of him wished that Ron would stay in the kitchen with his family, at least until Harry sorted through his own mixed up feelings.
Sitting on Ron's bed, nearly blinded by the neon orange surrounding him, Harry felt like an intruder. At least Hermione was with him, but in typical fashion she had buried herself in a large volume of some sort. The only sounds in the room were her occasional sniffles and the sometimes rapid whir of pages turning. Harry wanted to ask her what she was so anxiously looking for, but his voice had somehow deserted him.
"Harry?" He looked up, feeling some of the tension wring out of him. Sirius was leaning against the doorframe, looking more tired and worn out than he ever had. Faint white lines crisscrossed down his throat, but otherwise there were no signs that he had nearly been burnt to a crisp. "I'd like a quick word."
Harry glanced over at Hermione, but his bushy -haired friend hadn't even acknowledged another presence in the room. Assuaging himself that whatever knowledge she was seeking would be company enough for a few minutes, he followed his godfather down the stairs and outside.
"I know we probably shouldn't be out here," Sirius answered his query before he could even voice it, "but…" his eyes narrowed at the house and he bit his lip. "Well, we'll be inside soon enough."
It was quiet for a few moments, eerily so. No birds chirping or gnomes skulking from the bushes looking for trouble. There wasn't even so much as a breeze. Everything was still, as though the world had been put on pause.
"You disobeyed me." The sternness surprised Harry, as he was more accustomed to hearing that strict tone from Mrs. Weasley, not his reckless, devil-may-care godfather. Harry felt a bubble of defiance well up inside his chest and he latched onto it, pushing his grief down where it would never come up again.
"So?" he asked, though it wasn't really a question. "I saved your life." Sirius raised an eyebrow but his eyes remained cool.
"So you did. But, from my understanding, you had a pretty close shave yourself." Harry let out a huff that was close to a laugh if it wasn't so high pitched and bordering on hysterics.
"And who'd you hear that from, huh? Remus?" He wasn't sure why he was suddenly being a git to the man who had hijacked a Hippogriff to rescue him from hordes of zombies, but he couldn't stop the words pouring from his mouth. "If you're coming to lecture me then save your breath because he beat you to it." Sirius's eyes flashed and he leaned closer to Harry's face.
"You think this is a lecture? That I'm going to scold you like you got a bad mark on a test or broke curfew or something?" his voice was rising, and Harry suppressed the urge to hush him. "This is more than that! This is your life! For God's sakes, Harry, your life was in serious danger!"
"And it wasn't before? I've been walking around with a target on my back for nearly 15 years, Sirius! A few zombies doesn't mean I'm going to lock myself in a room while everyone else around me gets eaten!"
"But it's okay if you do?"
"I never said that! You're twisting my words!" Some faint part of him was aware that they were nearly shouting at each other, but he was too far gone to care. All those emotions boiled inside him and he couldn't suppress the grief and agony and worry anymore.
"Well, you sure act like it! Throwing yourself into danger, taking on not one but two! What the hell were you thinking?"
"What does it matter?" Harry spat the words like nails, "Why is everyone making such a big deal out of this?"
"I can't lose you!"
"I can't either!" Harry blurted out. Eyes widened, and they both stepped back; suddenly the outdoors seemed far too cramped a space. A flush crept up Harry's face while Sirius looked simply dumbstruck. There was a tenseness to the air that only grew more awkward as the moments slipped by; each unwilling to speak first, to already impose more than they already have.
"I…what?" he sputtered finally. Looking thoroughly defeated, Sirius ducked his head, running a bony hand through his gnarled hair.
"Look Harry," he began in a low voice, "I have lost your mother, your father, and a best friend turned traitor. I have no family to speak of. I-"
"You've got Remus," Harry pointed out. Sirius gave a hollow laugh.
"Remus and I will never be the same," and his voice trembled a little. "There's 12 years of bad blood and distrust between us and unfortunately those don't go away so easily. Too much has changed, and we're not schoolboys anymore.
"The point is…" Sirius paused, visibly hesitating. "The point is, you are the only one I've got left. You're the most important person…" he trailed off, torn between embarrassment and raw pain.
"I feel the same way," Harry admitted, looking down at his worn trainers.
"It's not the same," Sirius responded gruffly. "There are other adults around who care about you, like Molly." Harry's head snapped up at that.
"Mrs. Weasley has six other children to care for," he retorted, but he couldn't muster up anymore anger now. "Especially with Percy," he swallowed and found he could not say the rest. "Well, they need her a lot right now."
"And Remus? Dumbledore?" Sirius questioned, and he looked genuinely intrigued.
"Dumbledore has basically the world's salvation on his shoulders," there was an abrupt wave of sympathy for the wizened Headmaster and Harry felt guilty for his earlier outburst. "And Remus-" As much as Harry cared for his ex-DADA professor, it wasn't Remus who had sent him daily letters last year, or risked his life again and again for Harry's sake. "He's not you."
"As flattering as that is Harry, it still doesn't change the fact that I'm your godfather. And you constantly sticking your neck out to save me is not how it's supposed to work."
"I won't stand by and watch you die," he echoed firmly, meeting Sirius's gaze unflinchingly. "I noticed I wasn't the only one taking stupid, unnecessary risks today," He gave Sirius a significant look that coaxed a strained smile from the older man.
"That's different, Harry. You're my responsibility and I sure as hell wasn't letting Snivellus be the one to rescue you."
"Well, it's like you said, you're my godfather. So yeah, I'm going to do anything to protect you." Sirius shook his head slowly, letting out a small groan of frustration.
"No, Harry. Just no. I won't let you die to save me."
"And I won't let you die, period." They regarded each other for a long moment, but with no steel in their gaze. The growing realization danced between them, waiting to be spoken to life.
"That's irresponsible," Sirius said, but there was less conviction in his voice.
"There's nothing you can do to stop me," Harry remained as stubborn as ever. "And there's nothing I can do to stop you," he added somewhat unhappily. Sirius's lips twisted into a hard fought smirk.
"Both too stubborn, too reckless, and caring far too much. That's a toxic combination if I ever saw one. We're going to die trying to save each other."
"I'll watch your back if you watch mine?" he offered. The internal battle raging in his godfather played out across the skeletal features though Harry had a good idea which side would emerge victorious. Sure enough, Sirius shook his head, using his fingers to squeeze his eyes shut.
"Just promise me that you'll at least have some regard for your own life," he pleaded. "I really don't know what I'd do if I lost you." It was like someone had struck a match in the pit of his stomach, spreading warmth throughout his aching limbs. Throat too tight to speak, Harry could only nod.
Without warning, Sirius stuck out his hand, as if they had just made an important pact that was only valid if they shook on it. It was ridiculous, especially in light of everything going on around them, but there was something hangingin the air, full of loose ends and unspoken sentiments, and there needed to be some sense of closure.
Harry took the warm palm in his own, feeling slightly silly as he did so. Before he could withdraw, the hand pulled him forward, and he felt two arms wrap around him.
It was the most awkward hug Harry had ever found himself in, vastly different than when Mrs. Weasley or even Hermione hugged him. It was stiff, and neither quite knew how to hold each other, hands constantly shifting from mid-back to across the shoulders.
But, Harry didn't care. He let his head sink against the jutting ribcage, heart exploding with something he couldn't identify; something that made grief and anxiety feel very far away.
As they pulled apart, clearing their throats loudly and trying to supress sappy grins, Harry allowed himself to dwell in this rare moment of peace. There was so much hell and torment bearing on towards them, fraught with uncertainty and dismal odds, but Harry could take comfort in the fact that he had an adult whose chief concern was him, who considered him the most important facet of his life, and who was willing to stick by until the very bitter end.
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"Numbers are growing at an alarming rate and experts-"
"-like we've ever seen before. I'm honestly not sure we-"
"-dead? Half-bloods and Muggleborns tell us they are "zombies", and recommend everyone stay in a secure location, not to venture-"
"Reports are flooding in from around the country, around the continent even. I cannot keep up with them, there's more coming-"
"-safe zones are being established, but typical Ministry, it is all hush-hush-"
"We're doomed. This is the end. Mother, forgive me."
The windows had been fortified along with all the doors and any other opening that zombies could squeeze themselves into. They had established a "Quiet Time", which was as soon as the sun began to dip behind the horizon. Anyone speaking above hushed tones would be rewarded with a withering glare, and loud noises were strictly forbidden after the Weasley Wizard Wheezes Scare, where one of the twin's fireworks had unexpectedly exploded, sending everyone into a tailspin of panic. Harry had never seen Fred and George look so ashamed of themselves and all their creations were promptly locked away.
Each room containing a sleeping minor was accompanied by an adult, which had been extremely disconcerting at first, neither party knowing what the boundaries were. Luckily, Sirius had parked himself wherever Harry was residing, and since Ron was already familiar with him, the atmosphere was the most relaxed in the entire household. He told tales of an age long since passed, filled with pranks against Snape (Harry wasn't sure it was entirely moral for him to be laughing at a dead man) and close calls with McGonagall; Harry and Ron listened with amusement and a sickening sense of loss that hung heavy in the air long after Sirius had turned in for the night.
Every precaution had been taken, and any time someone thought of something else, the adults crawled all over themselves to remedy the problem. Their only connection to the outside world was the weathered radio Mr. Weasley had dredged up from his shed; the last time he had ever ventured there. The constant hum of voices, some panicked and some cold and rational filled every corner of the dwelling. The radio was never shut off, not even at night when bodies were tossing and turning, fighting down nightmares of deadened eyes and limbless corpses. Just in case some important news came in. Just in case they had to act. Just in case.
Mrs. Weasley still wasn't herself; she would still come down to the kitchen with red-rimmed eyes, staring outside the window. Harry found himself cooking most of the meals; not because he was forced to, but to relish in the act of doing something. Hermione had offered to take over one night but after everyone could barely choke down their runny meal, it was an unspoken agreement that Harry was now the chef.
His 15th birthday had come and gone. It was one of the few times Mrs. Weasley had seemed to return to herself, greeting him with a too-long embrace as he stumbled bleary- eyed into the kitchen. She had even made a cake, hot and delicious that melted in their mouths. The tension had broken as everyone threw themselves in creating a day to mask the horror now gripping their world. No one had gifts, of course, but they had fun anyway imagining more and more outlandish presents they would have bought, and Harry was laughing for the first time in weeks. He could almost forget why such a mismatched group of people was crowded in the Burrow.
But that night, coming out of the bathroom, Sirius had accosted him in the hall. Gripping his shoulders, he had stared at him long and hard.
"I'm sorry," he had whispered, and Harry knew it wasn't because it was Quiet Time, "I'm sorry that your birthday had to be like this." And, before Harry could try and brush off his apology, Sirius had quickly kissed his temple and made his way downstairs.
The Order was having near daily meetings, which the children were barred from. Sometimes they would last for hours, others mere minutes. Most of the wizards remained tight lipped about their contents, but Sirius had no qualms on filling his two wards in.
"More quarrelling," he sighed one night, plopping himself down on the floor. "We're about evenly split on what our next move is. Half of us want to stay here and the other half want to go for it."
"Go for what, exactly?" Ron asked. Sirius let out his infamous bark of a laugh that contained no humour.
"We can't even agree on that, Ron. Some want to go to Diagon Alley, some want to go to St. Mungo's, some want to even get to North America. I think some just want to go, and they don't really give a fuck where they end up."
Harry had a pretty good idea which category Sirius fell into.
For now though, they remained, forging a routine founded on the basis of constantly watching each other and the windows. Any sudden movement and the whole house went as still as Muggle photographs, until the danger had revealed itself as harmless and they all breathed a collective sigh of relief that their luck had not run out.
It was strange to spend so much time with people he had only seen fleetingly, or had never known at all. The Burrow felt surreal with all these new faces greeting him around every corner, merging their way into his life. He got to see up close many of Dumbledore's quirks such as his penchant for humming elaborate symphonies while he ate. To see the formidable Headmaster in such a human setting gave Harry a kind of unexpected comfort, a reason to hang onto hope.
He also got to know Sirius on a much deeper level than he ever could have hoped after Pettigrew escaped their clutches. He definitely lived up to his reputation as irreverent and sarcastic, describing the way he would shoot down plans he disagreed with at Order meetings ("Try and make a run for it? Are they fucking daft?"). But, there was also a softer side, much more subtle that was only recognizable after spending time with him in close quarters. Like the way he would always sit beside Harry at meal time, or ruffle his hair and wink at him if Harry became too lost in grim thoughts. He was never too far away from wherever Harry was, and Harry found that he wanted it to stay that way.
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"I think I've finally narrowed it down," Hermione said, closing her book with a snap. It was mid-afternoon and the sun was blazing cheerfully. The under-age wizards were lounging in the living room, trying to quell their frustration at yet another Order meeting they had been ejected from. They had been half-heartedly playing their umpteenth Gobstone game and Hermione's tired voice was a welcome relief.
"About what?" Fred urged when she didn't continue. Hermione tapped a finger on the book's cover.
"The cause of the zombies. I've been researching and I've found some likely explanations that keep popping up." The atmosphere in the room was instantly alert. The Weasley children all leaned forward in their seats, but Harry settled further into his squashed armchair. He had an idea on what Hermione's theories would be, having discussed them with her and Tonks on numerous occasions.
"For starters, I think it definitely is not the result of magic."
"Why?" Ginny immediately cut in, frowning deeply at the busy haired teen. She had been growing increasingly restless as the days went by, becoming more irritable and short-tempered with everyone. Hermione closed her eyes, trying to swallow her frustration and prevent another row.
"Firstly, the absence of You-Know-Who. I think it's pretty clear he's the only one who could have caused this to happen practically overnight, yet he's nowhere to be found. What's more, loyal Death Eaters have been bitten as well, and not even he is sadistic enough to allow his followers to become a threat.
"Secondly, the fact that these are zombies and not Inferi. Wizards only have a limited amount of spells to re-animate the dead in any manner and no spell I've found can cause anything like Muggle zombies. Also, the fact that this works as an infection is akin to biological warfare, something wizards aren't known to dabble in. Now, can I continue?" When Ginny could only mumble darkly in response, Hermione turned to the rest of them.
"So, as I was saying, I've found a few common explanations. One is religious. Most religions have the dead coming back to life as some sort of signifier of the end of the world. But, I really don't believe that's the real cause, not with how drawn out this thing has become. Besides, they don't talk about the dead turning others into them, and eating people.
"What I think is that it's probably a government experiment gone wrong. It could be biological warfare or a mutated virus that got out of control. It could be the result of nuclear radiation. It could be either military or the scientific community at fault."
"Why the government?" Ron asked. "Why the hell would they be messing around with things like that?"
"It's always the government," Harry answered, rubbing his temples wearily. "Either they did it to gain advantage in war or they did it for humanitarian reasons."
"Think about it," Hermione added, "the Muggle government has the most resources in terms of money and skilled people. It has all the power. This is definitely not the work of individuals, though I suppose it could have originated from some turncoat scientific group working alone." Fred issued a groan, covering his eyes with his hand.
"Well thank God it's just the government. I was really worried that it'd be something impossible."
"We should tell Dumbledore," Ron said, looking around the room for support. "I'm sick of being caged up here." There were murmurs of agreement from all and Harry gave his mate a grateful look for voicing what they all had been thinking.
"Harry and I have been talking with Tonks about this and she agrees with my theory. She probably has let them know in the meetings."
"Then why are we still here?" Ginny growled. "Enough sitting around, it's time for action!" George was nodding rapidly in agreement.
"Who knows how many zombies are running around now? If we keep staying here it might be too late to fix all this."
"You can't just march up to a government facility and demand a fix-it," Hermione said tersely, earning her a few glares. "Well, honestly! We don't know exactly what caused the zombies only that it probably originates from the government. We don't know what facility or arm of the government to even begin looking at and we don't even know what the antidote will be! Running out of here with only righteous indignation will just get us killed."
"Well then, why don't you crack open that book of yours and start finding some answers," Ginny spat, eyes flashing. Hermione drew in a sharp inhalation and Harry sensed another vicious fight between the two coming.
"Okay, let's just stop," he spoke up in a placating tone. "We'll talk to Dumbledore and see what he says. I'm sick of you two biting each other's head off every minute." He didn't know whether to feel relieved or insulted when their sharp eyes turned to him.
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"So, you think this is some Muggle experiment gone wrong?" Arthur said wearily, speaking more to the kitchen table than the Headmaster.
"I have had my suspicions for some time now," Dumbledore confirmed, sounding as though he had aged decades. "The children approached me today saying they had reached a similar conclusion."
"Alright, so the Muggles fucked up. That still doesn't bring us any closer to what we're actually going to do about it," Sirius ground out.
"I think it's absolutely critical information," Kingsley replied smoothly. "Now, we can focus our efforts on Muggle institutions. This is good, Albus," and he shot Dumbledore a curiously reassuring expression. Dumbledore acknowledged it with an incline of his head.
"Sirius is right, however; we must forge a concrete, well-thought out plan of action. Kingsley, when you were at the British Prime Minister's office, did you see or hear anything suspicious?" Kingsley grimaced.
"Honestly, there was far too much chaos; the zombies overran the building moments after we arrived. I focused on trying to maintain his survival and for his part, he seemed understandably terrified. If he knew about any of this beforehand he never mentioned it."
"Is it possible he had no idea it was going on?" Bill suggested. Dumbledore placed his fingertips together.
"It most certainly is, but unlikely. I have had liaisons with the Muggle government on more than one occasion and the Prime Minister usually has his finger on the pulse of every faction of his government. He may not have known it was not going as planned but I doubt he was unaware an experiment was happening."
Nobody said anything for a while. The second meeting of the day and everybody was burnt out and more than sick of repeating the same theories and questions. Dumbledore surveyed his ragtag army, unravelling so rapidly and felt a stab of anguish. He could very well empathize for the growing restlessness, but after Severus and Percy he refused to be so callous with their decisions. If that brewed resentment then so be it.
"So… does anyone know anything about the Muggle government?" Bill asked, unsnapping the elastic from his hair and shaking the red mane out. Eyes slid to their neighbour not-so-discreetly only to be met by half shrugs and pursed lips. Soon enough, all eyes were on Tonks, who had long since done away with her pink hair. Instead it was short and brown, as no-nonsense as she had become. Heaving a sigh at her new role as second-in-command, she twisted her hands together and addressed the room.
"I know a little bit, but I was never very interested in politics, much less Muggle politics," she admitted and was met with crestfallen expressions. Her stomach bunching into knots, she hastened to add, "But between Harry, Hermione, and I I'm sure we could piece together enough information. I have an idea of where to start looking for information; either the military or risk going back to the Prime Minister's office to look for archival information."
At that, the atmosphere in the room took on an electrical charge as allies and foes began to glower at each other from across the table. It was an old feud playing itself out again, a song that they knew a little too well.
"Good. When do we start?" Sirius was the first to speak up, as he often was. Beside him, Remus shifted slightly, clearly agreeing with his old friend but wary of his bombastic tactics.
"I'd say soon," Tonks said, nodding in the direction of her cousin, who gave her a smirk back. "By the sounds of the radio, this is only getting worse and if we can find out any information, we can start fixing this."
"It's too dangerous," Molly's frail voice responded. While her eyes were no longer constantly bloodshot, her normally plump face was noticeably drawn in, a shell of her former self. There were silent exchanges at her disapproval, nobody willing to shut her down in the face of her tremendous loss. Well, most of the group anyway.
"Listen, Molly, sitting shut up in here is no less dangerous than going out there. Sooner or later, they will find us. You are not far from a Muggle village. We've been lucky so far. It won't last forever," Sirius said in what he probably thought was a gentle tone but came out as harsh and rough as sandpaper. Arthur immediately put an arm around his wife, shooting daggers at the black- haired man.
"We've made this house almost as safe as Grimmauld Place. There's no reason why we need to act as the saviours of Europe," he shot back. "You've heard others on the radio say they'll take up that noble cause," he hissed between clenched teeth, causing Sirius to smash together his own jaw.
"There's no reason to mock me," his voice took on a dangerous edge. Remus put a hand on his forearm and shot him a warning look.
"Dad, I know it's been hell lately," Bill said softly, his eyes over-bright. "But it would be immoral to sit by and do nothing if we have the capability to help stop this. Isn't that why you joined the Order in the first place?"
"That was before…" and all the anger seemed to drain out him instantaneously, leaving a withered and broken man behind. "Don't say it's the same. Don't try and equate the two, Bill. Don't." Bill swallowed loudly before shaking his head and looking away from his father. Speaking so softly he could barely be heard, "It's what Percy would have wanted." Molly's lips trembled dangerously, and she turned and buried her face in her husband's chest. Even Sirius had the tact to look slightly ashamed.
"Albus, you've heard this all before," Kingsley directed his leader alone, dark eyes haunted with the same heavy weight of guilt reflected in the Headmaster's eyes. "You know what everyone thinks, you've heard what the radio's been saying. It's your call."
Dumbledore rested his forehead on his pressed finger tips, closing his eyes. Moments passed, pregnant with bated breath. The climax had finally arrived; after this there would be no going back. They would either forge together as one unit, for better or for worse, or splinter off and rush headlong into their own perceived destiny. Knuckles whitened with anxiety, lips were bit until they bled, and all eyes were locked on one man to give the order.
"Well, Albus? What do we do?"
A/N: Hello, c'est moi! Were you all perhaps worried that hordes of zombies ate me Umbridge style? Well, I am alive but school was hectic last semester and I really had to throw myself into it. But enough about me! Anyway, another action-less chapter, but as the arc of this story is shaping up to be quite long, I want to have both vomit-inducing gore and character driven chapters for a well-rounded story. This marks the end of Part 1 as it were (but I will still be posting chapters under this story), and Part 2 will introduce new and expand on old plot points, perhaps feature newish characters and of course, upping the zombie carnage until Fanfiction bans me for my disgusting ways. So if you're all a little tired of the endless "OMGWTFBLT what are zombies, why are they here, Voldemort?" then fear not! Part 2 reins this in. But, this was all necessary to lay the groundwork for Part 2.
Anyway, super long A/N is super long, (but it has been a long absence) so let me end by saying the next chapter WILL be posted quicker than this one. Thank you once again to all my amazing, wonderful, marvellous reviewers, followers, favouriters, and poll voters! You guys never fail to bring a smile to my face. Reviews are always love, and constructive criticism is always welcome (but not flames, because those are senseless and eye-roll inducing). Hopefully you enjoy this chapter!