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Chapter Thirteen: Lows

Anakin bleakly pondered the limits of his sanity, allowing his feet to follow his Masters. Harry and Sirius flanked him on either side, so Anakin did his best to stare straight ahead. He could feel Harry's eyes on him, full of curiosity, bursting with questions after visiting the Healer's ward. Anakin grit his teeth. Thinking about midichlorians was pushing his limits. He cast around with his mind, searching for something else to focus his thoughts on. He settled on the mysterious summons and found again that he'd hit another limit. After all that had already happened to him in one day- being beaten by Harry in the training stalls, finding he could not use magic, and hearing that Harry had matched his previously unrivaled midichlorian count – thinking about anything more made his head hurt, accompanied by a twisting counterpoint in his gut. As it turned out, he could not escape the matter for long. Obi-wan came to an abrupt halt in front of a door that promptly slid open. The council room. They were there.

By now, Harry was starting to get used to the Temple, but he was again taken by surprise when he entered this new room. The room itself was rather humble by Temple standards, but the aura pulsating throughout caught him off guard. It felt to Harry like being in the Department of Mysteries at his hearing the previous summer. He could feel that important decisions had been made in this room. But there was also a stark contrast. In the courtroom he was ablaze with nervous anticipation. The tension in the air was almost a tangible thing, but here he felt distinctly at ease. The room had the exact opposite effect on Anakin. He was currently brooding on the first time he'd entered it.

Much like Harry, he had been on trial to see if he was worthy to stay in the place where he belonged, only his "crimes" were completely out of his control. "He's too old," they'd said. "Too full of anger and fear to begin the training." These words echoed briefly through Anakin's head, reflected back at him in the eyes of Mace Windu. Anakin noticed, with a twinge of relief and something akin to jealousy that most of the Masters had no eyes for him today. They were intent on Sirius and, of course, Harry.

The Masters were seated in their serene circle. It was an arrangement designed to exude power. Control. As always, it put Anakin on edge. Made him feel like a caged animal. Obi-wan stood half a pace in front of him, hands loosely clasped behind him, calm as ever.

The Masters began talking. Outer-Rim sieges, disgruntled spice miners. Anakin almost sighed in relief. A boring mission. That was what he needed. A break from Harry and the Temple and a few battles for his life would break the monotony nicely and hopefully take his mind off the ridiculous jealousy growing inside him. Nothing like a few days in hyperspace to put things in perspective.

Then he heard her name. "...Senator Amidala." Padme! And all of a sudden he was alert, listening to every word. There had been attempts on her life. The thought of Padme dying was enough to make Anakin feel ill. Worse, the culprit had not even been identified. Anakin swore to himself that he'd bring whoever was responsible to justice. Preferably the blade of his lightsaber. Something shocked him back to the present. His train of thought crashed into a brick wall at full-speed. The Strangers were coming! What? No! He heard Master Windu say it, but could not process it.

Anakin finally looked up from his boots; his eyes flew to Mace. He realized with an eruption of fury that Windu did not look at Harry with any of the disgust and mistrust he'd shown Anakin. He seemed to be merely curious. The injustice fanned a fire inside Anakin, sending tongues of flame licking at his insides. He hadn't been trusted at the age of nine! They'd claimed he was too old, yet Harry and Sirius had been accepted without question!

He was getting angry when he knew he shouldn't. Already he could feel the weight of the Masters' wary gazes. He had become a thundercloud in their midst. Or perhaps a ticking bomb. To calm himself, he refocused on his mission: protect Padme. Just thinking of her had an immediate calming effect on Anakin. His assignment could not be any more perfect (although the company might be a bit better). This was a mission he would fully enjoy; he wanted nothing more that to love and protect Padme. Now it was his full-time job.

He wasn't aware that they'd been dismissed until Obi-wan nodded respectfully and turned to leave the room. He quickly followed suit, followed in turn by Harry and Sirius. He hadn't been paying attention like he should've. Nothing new. So he wasn't too embarrassed to ask Obi-wan where they were going. His answer shocked him. Again. Anakin wondered at how surprisingly resilient his sanity was today with how many times it had already been tested.

They were going to see Padme.

Every kind of book imaginable from huge, dusty leather-bound tomes to tiny hand-written leaflets lay half-opened and discarded across the expanse of the desk. It had the feel of a graveyard. Flipping listlessly through the mess were Ron and Hermione. Much like the books, they looked very much the worse for wear. Gone was the enthusiasm that had them flippling feverishly through books, sure that the answer to their problem was only one page away. All around them, things were caving in over their heads. They had it every kind of low imaginable. There had been deaths. There had been disappearances, but the most recent one was definitely the most disturbing. Neville was gone, but he'd left a note: Don't try to find me. Their hair was disheveled, their clothes were in disarray and both had prominent dark circles under their eyes. The effect was appropriate: they were the living dead.

At that moment however, Hermione showed a sign of life. "This is hopeless!" she cried and, in a fit of frustrated hysteria, she stood and threw the book she was reading across the Hogwarts library. It made an echoing thunk as it came to the end of its fall. The Ron from before the incident might've have made a comment about damaging school property, but this Ron merely looked up and met Hermione's eyes. "Does it matter if we have hope?" his haunted gaze seemed to say. But what Ron said was. "It's not. We've found out loads."

Hermione snorted, still with an edge of hysteria. "Oh yes, this is just a treasure trove of information!" She pulled a book at random and threw it back down in disgust. "We know the veil's a portal. But we have no idea where it opens! It could be a thousand places: in a desert, at the bottom of the ocean, underground or…" She trailed off. Both knew the end of her statement, though neither had yet said it aloud.

"I know it's hopeless, Hermione. But I can't give up. I keep picturing him charging into the veil with that look in his eye. You know the one." Ron stopped, trying to convey the energy and light that possessed Harry when someone, anyone was in danger and he was going to save them. He didn't have to. Hermione knew. "I just know that if our places were switched, if you or I fell through…Harry would never give up. He'd never stop trying. So I can't. I can't give up on him. I can't stop trying." Ron trailed off and looked away. Hermione pretended she didn't see him wipe at his eyes.

A new light shone from the depths of her exhausted eyes. "Ron, there's no point being here, reading these books." Ron looked up at her, eyes red. Intense. Hermione continued. "If we're going to learn anything, we're going to need some hands-on experience."

Lucius had handled many…delicate matters in his lifetime, but this was nothing like anything he'd ever done before. No one had ever attempted a rebellion the likes of the one he was staging. The Death Eaters would overthrow the Dark Lord. And he would lead the charge. Instinctively, he knew what needed to be done. They must be united. At least superficially. They must be reassured. They must act. Quickly. There could be no time for any of them to turn traitor, there could be no time for them to rethink the course of action and, most importantly, there could be no time for the Dark Lord to catch wind of their plotting. For a brief moment, Lucius balked at the plan, even though it was his own. No Slytherin would attempt such a thing. There were so many holes, so many variables. Too many. One had to be taken out of the equation. Immediately.

He had taken some time to organize his thoughts and allowed his fellow Death Eaters to do the same. He knew they would come to the same conclusion he had. They had all come too far and put too much on the line to go down with a Dark Lord twisted by paranoia.

"My fellows in service, my brothers in blood," he began. "The time has come – our time has come. Remove your masks! We must come together in order to succeed. All of us."

With intentional slowness. Lucius removed his mask. He watched as others around him, warily did the same. Most of the unmasked Death Eaters did not phase him, but a few did. Even now, Lucius was surprised at how deep into the Ministry the Dark Lord had penetrated. He was clever. Clever to unite them, to keep their identities secret. But he was not clever enough. He had amassed a powerful group of men to do his bidding, but know they would take him down from the inside.

Author's Note: I am so sorry because of how delayed this chapter is. Parts of it were writing itself in my head, but it refused to come together. Add that to the fact that I was away from my computer for a month…Again, so, so sorry. Please review?

La Nanita