Chapter 21: The Grace of Merlin
"We're going." Ron said stubbornly.
He and Harry had been peeling sprouts at the sink, while Mrs Weasley bustled around, putting a joint of pork (which looked more like a whole pig to Harry) into the oven, among other things. It had been while Mrs Weasley had asked for details of their school year as they worked, that Ron had mentioned the reaction of the school to the Sirius article. It would have been with great pleasure that he related the acceptance of the truth by the students, and the even greater dislike that Fudge was talked about in many quarters. Except for the fact that this argument had got in the way first.
"Ronald Weasley." Mrs Weasley began, swelling up and looking more than ready for a fight (Ron recoiled). "You are not of age yet. The decision is not up to you."
"Why not?" Ron said mulishly. "Why shouldn't Ginny or me be able to see the Ministry tell the whole world the truth about Sirius? Why shouldn't we be there when Harry gets given the Order of Merlin for Sirius?"
"Because," Mrs Weasley began dangerously, "I will not allow my children to be in put in harm's way."
"How can it be risky?" Ron demanded. "Professor Dumbledore and Remus wouldn't have let Harry do this if it was unsafe, would they?"
Mrs Weasley whipped her wand at some knives, which began to top and tail some carrots so viciously that pieces of the vegetable started to fly across the kitchen in Grimmauld Place.
"The ceremony has been plastered in all the newspapers for most of the last month, as if You-Know-Who needs to know where all the most important people in our world are, and I am NOT going to let all of my children be right in the middle of it all."
"So you think You-Know-Who is going to attack?" Ron asked.
"I am not going to take any chances with any of my children." Mrs Weasley said angrily, waving her wand again.
Potatoes were now being halved with loud 'thumps' each time the knives hit the chopping board. Harry gave half a thought to sneaking out of the kitchen. Even his Gryffindor courage found Mrs Weasley's wrath hard to handle. Ordinarily, any arguments a Weasley child might have raised would already have been quashed, or at least suspended until later, when they might have applied to their father as well, but Ron seemed to have screwed up all of his courage.
"But if it's dangerous then I have to be there!" Ron said, ears going red, and voice rising towards a shout. "There's no way I'm letting Harry go there without me if You-Know-Who might attack."
"Professor Dumbledore and the Minister have been making security arrangements for the last few weeks. It will be as safe as they can possibly m-"
"Then why can't I go?" Ron interrupted.
"You are not going Ronald, and that is final." Mrs Weasley's hand was shaking slightly, Harry noticed, as she put glaze onto the roast. "I may not be able to prevent Fred and George, or Harry, or Hermione, much as I would like to, but I can stop you and Ginny."
"Harry would want us to be there for him as moral support. Don't you Harry?" Ron continued fiercely.
"I- Well-" Harry said uncomfortably. "It would be nice to see some friendly faces."
"I'm sorry Harry," Mrs Weasley said in a choked voice, "but Ron and Ginny are not going. I'll finish those sprouts, dears, now out, both of you."
Harry had the awful feeling as he and Ron sped from the kitchen that he could hear tears coming from behind them. Ron was too angry to notice.
X x X x X x X x X
"…and so, I am delighted to introduce to you, Edvard de Flamente." Minister Scrimgeour said to a round of applause.
A short, plump, bald, man in a magenta robe, with a bushy, red, handlebar moustache waddled to the front of the stage. The reception area of the Ministry of Magic had been transformed into a large hall, packed with seats filled by important people, photographers and journalists (Rita Skeeter had given Harry an ingratiating smile as she took her seat), Hogwarts teachers, and the few ordinary witches and wizards who had been lucky enough to get a seat – in that order. The room had been divided cleverly so that the curtain-covered Monument of Magical Unity attracted everybody's attention, without diverting interest from the stage upon which the people of honour were sitting.
Mr and Mrs Weasley, Remus, Bill, the Weasley twins, and Hermione had been given V.I.P. seats near the very front, being close friends of Harry, and now and then, he caught a glimpse of a reassuring smile from one – or all – of them. With them sat Percy, who looked rather nervous, but pleased to be with his parents. He didn't offer Harry a reassuring grin, but rather avoided his eyes, which was quite an achievement seeing as Harry was seated in the centre of the stage, beside the Minister, Madam Bones, and the new Head of Aurors, a thin, rakish man who seemed to walk around with his eyes permanently narrowed, called Arum Parsons.
Harry had barely been introduced to the sculptor who was now delivering an oratory, but he had not needed long to discover he was not particularly like Gilderoy Lockhart. Yes, he was pompous, arrogant, and had the same determined belief in his own greatness, but unlike Lockhart, he did actually seem to know what he was talking about, and more particularly, he didn't assume that everybody was in love with him. Quite the opposite in fact – he seemed to take offence at the smallest thing. Harry had already been treated to an angry outburst from the man in response to Harry's inference that he was German. He was Swiss, Harry discovered, not German, French, or Italian, and he seemed to consider the fact Harry didn't know that to be a grave insult.
Harry, of course, had just been going by what Ginny and Mrs Weasley had told him, but thankfully Mr Crouch's replacement in the Department of International Magical Co-operation, Madam Cultara, had smoothed things over. It was easy to see why people thought he was German however, he did have a habit of throwing words into his conversations that sounded even to Harry's untrained ear as, well, German.
Harry continued to ignore every word the man was saying, and glanced around the room again. He caught Fred's eyes, and Fred immediately made a face that said clearly: 'when will this guy shut up?' Harry didn't make any expression in reply – the twins didn't have a whole room looking at them. At all exits to the room were stationed Aurors, part of the major security precautions that were taking place. Tonks glanced at the stage occasionally from the door she was guarding, but Kingsley was nowhere to be seen. Harry noticed that many of the teachers, Professor Aravenne in particular, glanced towards the doors as if alert for a possible attack.
De Flamente's speech seemed to have ended for there was another round of applause, and Minister Scrimgeour had returned to his feet. He gave the Swiss a bow, and strode forward to resume his place.
"The destruction of the Fountain of Magical Brethren was a tragedy," He began strongly, "but the destruction of any object is eclipsed by the loss of life, when it is of the nobility of a man such as Sirius Black."
Harry looked out upon the crowd, noticing more than a few dubious faces amongst them, and he realised that the reason most of them were attentive was that they wanted to hear this for themselves. He met Dumbledore's twinkling eyes, and drew strength from them. The best way he could persuade people of Sirius' true self was to remain strong in front of their eyes.
"This is a man who worked tirelessly against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named before he was wrongly arrested. We now believe, without a shadow of a doubt, that the crimes Sirius Black was imprisoned for, were committed by Peter Pettigrew, an illegal animagus. This innocent man was sent to Azkaban, and yet he escaped, which no man had done before, not to harm any of us who were to blame, but to protect someone. The-Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter."
Professor Aravenne was staring attentively at Harry, and Harry was reminded of the conversation they had had at the start of the month, when Aravenne had told Harry of the responsibility he had, whether he liked it or not, towards the people who saw him as a hero. Beside him, Professor McGonagall gave Harry a small nod, and beside her sat Snape, who looked as though he would rather be anywhere else.
"It is for this unswerving loyalty to the side of right that I wish to honour him today, for when he died, in this same building, in the fight against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, which culminated in the destruction of the Fountain of Magical Brethren, and the loss of his brave life, he had more reason to have deserted our side than anyone. Sirius Black's closest family are Death Eaters. He grew up in a family that cherished their abhorrent beliefs. We had forsaken him, and subjected him to misery.
"But yet he never forsook us! For years Sirius Black has been falsely accused of heinous crimes, but no more! He deserves to be recognised for what he was – nay – is, and held up as an example that no matter what, there is no excuse to turn to dark magic, and the Dark Lords' service, be they He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Grindelwald, or any of the other Wizards or Witches who have sought to destroy our society. We all have a duty to fight evil, and like Sirius Black, no matter where we come from, or what happens to us, we must not hide behind excuses to shirk our responsibility.
"It is therefore with great pleasure that I introduce to you Harry Potter, Sirius Black's godson, who has graciously agreed to accept an Order of Merlin, First Class, on behalf of his godfather."
Harry stood up at his cue, and, trying to hide his nerves, walked forward during the applause. He was quite pleased with the Minister's speech, for, while the rhetoric had been obviously intended to raise spirits, and gain support for the Ministry from the public; Sirius had belatedly received some of the respect he deserved. Scrimgeour offered his hand to Harry who shook it, wincing slightly as the flash bulbs of the photographers caused red blots to obscure his vision. Their firm handshake would be on the front pages of all the papers tomorrow.
Rufus Scrimgeour then picked up a small box, covered with dark blue velvet, with golden stylised threads forming a miniature representation of Merlin, which regally prowled the lid. The Minister opened it, to reveal more velvet, and a gleaming black medal – ebony – with yet more gold, that this time formed striking letters. Love or loathe the Ministry, they did make impressive medals.
The cameras flashed again, as Harry took the box. He idly wondered why they didn't follow the Muggle example, and produce cameras that didn't belch smoke, or that could produce colour photographs. Scrimgeour was beaming, probably at the rise in public opinion the applause suggested, Harry thought dryly.
The Minister waited for the applause to die down before raising his hands, and saying: "And now we come to the final part of our ceremony: the unveiling of the Monument of Magical Unity."
As he spoke, he flourished his hand in the direction of the monument, and the curtain flew into the air, and vanished, exposing Edvard de Flamente's work for the first time that evening. Harry's immediate thought was that the marble structure was as pretentious as he, Ron, and Hermione had surmised it might be upon the day of Snape's trial. A moat and foot high wall surrounded various statues in different poses. A man and a centaur were poised as though to defend the fort from harm, a goblin worked upon the creation of a sword at a forge, a witch was in the process of healing an injured man, house-elves at her side, and elsewhere another witch and wizard were engrossed in study of a tome.
To Harry's untrained eye, it was hideously ugly.
X x X x X x X x X
"Es ist a masterpiece, ja?" The sculptor was talking about his own piece of work to Harry, who had become ensnared in conversation with him before he could look for Remus, Hermione, and the Weasley family.
"Um, yes, it's very-" Harry began, trying to think of a complimentary word to describe the monstrosity.
"Here, let me get you ein glass of wine." He didn't wait for an answer from Harry, but rather snapped his fingers in mid air.
A drinks tray appeared in his hand, with two large glasses of red wine which stayed perfectly steady, despite the jerky movements of the man's hand.
"I dunno, er, I don't really drink." Harry told him.
He looked around for someone who might be willing to rescue him – he wished he could introduce de Flamente to Mrs Weasley. Not only would she appreciate a chance to talk with such an artist, but he knew it would allow him to slip away somewhere quieter. He had hoped that Dumbledore might talk to him at the first opportunity, but he was nowhere to be seen. Nor were any of the teachers in fact. Despite the stage having vanished, and the hall being its normal size again, there seemed to be more people now that they were moving around rather than sitting in neat rows, and they seemed to obscure everyone Harry wanted to see.
"Nonsense, ein bisschen won't hurt you, boy." De Flamente said unconcerned.
Harry raised the glass to his lips, and took a sip. He had heard words used such as fruity to describe wines, but he couldn't taste any fruit in this. He didn't particularly like the tart taste, and resolved to drink as little as possible.
"Ja, wunderbar!" The man said reflectively, before continuing, "A satyr brewed wine if I am not mistaken. Superb."
Harry made a noncommittal noise, and resumed his sweep of the room. A small group of people at the door Tonks was guarding caught Harry's attention, and he thought he might have glimpsed a flash of Fred or George's red hair in the midst of them.
"Herr de Flamente!" The woman's voice rang in Harry's ears, with, what was to Harry, obvious affectation. He could almost hear the sneer of the boy that he knew would be close by.
"Mrs Malfoy!" De Flamente said delightedly, bowing his podgy body awkwardly. "Es ist wonderful to see you once more."
"This is my son, Draco." Narcissa Malfoy said, in what was obviously meant to be a charming voice.
"My mother has told me a lot about you, sir." Malfoy said, offering a bow himself.
In between his smooth speech, he sneered at Harry, who was stung into an answer which only Draco could hear.
"I'm surprised to see you here Malfoy; what with your father being known as a Death Eater, how could you afford the seats?"
Malfoy's cheeks flushed red, and Harry felt immense pleasure at the opportunity to insult Draco Malfoy as he had insulted the Weasleys so many times.
"You'll get yours, Potter." He hissed.
"This is Harry Potter, Narcissa." Edvard de Flamente said as if introducing two good friends of his to each other. "Harry, this is Mrs Narcissa Malfoy and her son-"
"I know." Harry interrupted, trying not to allow his voice to sound strained. "I've met them before. Mr Malf-"
"Harry." A voice said from behind, causing Harry to turn sharply. It was Percy. "Can I have a word?"
Harry glanced back at the Malfoys and the sculptor. Mrs Malfoy was steering de Flamente away. He didn't need to glance twice to be glad of the distraction.
"Sure. What about?"
"Not here." Percy said, sounding a little nervous, and he led Harry out of the milling crowd.
"Thanks." Harry said quietly, putting down his glass of wine on a nearby table, full of different edible items.
Percy gave him a strange look, and continued to the back of the hall, where an Auror stood aside and allowed the two of them to walk through a small door, into a narrow corridor.
"What's this about?" Harry asked, a little confused.
"I just want a bit of privacy." Percy muttered. "I doubt I'll get another chance after this ends, will I?"
And with that, he led Harry around a couple of corners before he stopped, turned, and fixed Harry with a glare.
"Fred and George's shop was just attacked."
"What?" Harry demanded, aghast, heart racing. "Is everyone okay?"
"Fred and George were here to see you being given the award, remember, they're fine. At the moment anyway."
"But… what about everyone else, their staff, Verity-"
"Verity?" Percy asked, dubiously.
"Fred says he fancies h- is she okay?" Harry pressed.
Percy shook his head. "I don't know. I don't know the details. We can all guess why they were attacked though…
"I won't let you put my family in danger Harry. I know you don't think I care about them, but I'd do anything to keep them safe."
"What? So you're trying to tell me Voldemort" – Percy flinched – "attacked Fred and George's shop because of me?" Harry said furiously. "It couldn't have anything to do with the things they said in the Prophet, could it? Or half their products?"
"You are the only reason my family is in that Order." Percy hissed.
"Says who?" Harry demanded angrily. "Your mother's brothers were in it when Voldemort was first here."
Percy blinked.
"It's not that I have anything against you Harry," He said eventually, "but can't you see that hanging around you is going to mean they're targeted? If Ron and Ginny-"
"Who says the decision is up to me? Why don't you tell them that, and let them decide?"
"I'm not saying…" Percy exhaled deeply. "Look, they wouldn't listen to me, but you- We all know You-Know-Who has targeted you, and I'm sorry- But if you were to warn-"
"You think I don't care about their safety?" Harry shouted. "You don't think I've already told them that they'd be safer away from me?"
Harry turned his back on him, but the third Weasley brother grabbed his shoulder. Harry reached for his wand reflexively.
"If anything happens to them because of you – I swear you'll regret it." Percy said in a low, threatening voice that Harry had never heard before.
"Likewise." Harry replied coldly as swung back around to face him again.
Percy glared back. "It would be safer for everyone if you didn't see each other."
"Is that a threat?" Harry asked evenly.
Percy looked away. "Look, I'm not- Like I said, I have nothing against you, I'm just worried about my family."
"They can make their own decisions." Harry swivelled once more, but before he had taken two paces the lights dimmed.
"Harry, wait."
Harry ignored him.
"This is wrong." Percy continued.
"Yeah, you know what, it is." Harry snarled. "I'm being told by someone who abandoned his family for the last year and a half that he doesn't want me to see them. I actually care about them."
Percy went red with anger, and for the couple of seconds he took calming breaths, Harry thought he might draw his wand.
"I'm not talking about that. These lights shouldn't have dimmed."
"So the lighting charms have failed. Big deal. I'm going back to the entrance hall."
"Stop!" Percy hissed warningly. "The only time the lights should dim like that, is if there are intruders in the Ministry."
That sentence brought Harry up abruptly. "Voldemort's attacking the Ministry?"
Percy flinched. "I don't know. If there really was an intruder, then an alarm would be going off, and most of these doors would seal themselves." He waved at the corridor behind them. "Come on. This way."
Percy took five steps, and turned the handle of the nearest door. It swung open.
"Intruders. Yeah. I guess you must have talked to me for too long." Harry said bitingly. "Death Eaters must be coming after you now."
Percy looked livid, and fingered his wand.
"Satisfied?" Harry continued.
"I'm telling you, Potter, this isn't right." Percy said through gritted teeth.
"Yeah, whate-"
A resounding blast shook the air, and echoed as though it had been in a large cathedral. Three people wearing Death Eaters masks and robes had appeared in the corridor between them and the ceremony.
The tension of their confrontation caused both Harry and Percy to draw their wands first and cast spells reflexively.
"Stupefy!" Percy yelled.
"Ebriatus!" Harry shouted at the same time.
The Death Eater Percy had aimed at deflected the curse easily, but Harry's target had produced a large bell shield which did nothing to stop Harry's disorienting charm penetrating it, and hitting him. The third Death Eater raised his wand and aimed at Harry.
"Crucio!" He yelled.
Harry found himself falling towards the wall, as he heard Percy scream. He had pushed Harry out of the way, and taken the curse meant for him. For a split-second, Harry and the Death Eaters watched Percy's writhing body, before the Death Eater struck by Harry's charm lurched into Percy's attacker, breaking the Cruciatus curse.
"Rejicia Maxima!" Harry yelled, aiming at the ceiling.
Splinters, dust, and air flew through the air in explosion, causing the Death Eaters to duck. Harry grabbed Percy, and half dragged him backwards further down the corridor. Percy found his feet, while swearing and coughing filled the air, along with the sound of a third body hitting the floor.
"Vapeo!" Harry thought, in an effort to fill the corridor with as much smoke and dust as possible.
A curse sped past them, and Percy stumbled into a door, which he opened. Harry dragged him away.
"We don't want to get cornered." He whispered, starting to think clearly.
They turned a corner. Percy was hobbling and panting, and Harry knew it would not take long before they would have to fight again.
"Can you apparate yet?" Percy gasped.
"Last time I tried in a fight I splinched myself. But what about the wards?"
"They got in." Percy pointed out, before gesturing towards a door. "This door takes us up a level."
"Colloportus." Harry muttered, as Percy stumbled up the first few steps. Harry pointed his wand at the wall just in front of the door. "Laminacelo!"
"What?" Percy asked.
"Something I learned in Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts." Harry told him.
Percy stumbled, and narrowly avoided falling back down the stairs.
"Are you alright?" Harry asked.
Percy nodded. "Do you think you could apparate out?"
"I can try." Harry said, and then trying to make himself feel a little less nervous, continued. "Can you pick up anything I forget to take with me?"
"Try somewhere close by, like the entrance hall." Percy suggested. "I'll follow after you."
The door below thudded, and with a nervous glance at it, Harry nodded.
He closed his eyes, concentrating hard. His ears popped, and then Harry screamed involuntarily. He felt as though his body was both constricting and expanding at the same time. A white mist obscured his vision, and he tried to throw up, but couldn't even control enough of his body for that.
A split second later the pain was gone, and his scream echoed around him strangely. He had a strange feeling of floating in mid air, and frantically tried to open his eyes to see where he was, before he realised that he had rolled them back into his head. His limbs felt like lead, and were unresponsive. He closed his eyes, and for a brief moment saw blackness.
X x X x X x X x X
"Enervate!"
Harry groaned.
"Are you okay?" Percy's voice asked urgently.
Harry opened his eyes. His vision blurred and swam. He reflexively put his hand to his face to check for his glasses, but it seemed to take an age to feel the reassuring metal.
"Not really." He mumbled.
"You've got to get up." Percy urged.
"Give me a moment." He blinked his eyes, and eventually they focussed.
He was sitting in another corridor, a few feet away from a door. A loud scream came from behind it, and Harry remembered where he was.
"Death Eaters." He muttered, scrambling to his feet.
"What did that spell of yours do?" Percy asked uneasily.
"Blade jinx. Which way?"
"I don't know." Percy said, looking distracted. "The lifts and the other stairs are miles away." After a moment's hesitation, he moved down the corridor. "This way."
After a couple of steps, Harry's head swam again, and he stumbled. Percy, however, didn't notice. He was still limping himself. There was a loud crash behind them, as the door to the stairs was blasted off its hinges, and two men shot out. A couple of curses missed them by inches, and Percy half shoved Harry through a door.
"Colloportus!" Percy's voice said from behind Harry, as he looked around.
A large room, with a number of windows showing the illusion of the outside, every free space of wall was covered with Quidditch posters. A box of inactive Bludgers sat on the nearest of many sturdy desks, and flew across the room with a wave of Harry's wand. Another door stared at them from across the room.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" Harry said with a swish and flick, and levitated the desk in front of them on to its side in front of the door, just as a gruff voice called out.
"Alohomora!"
But the door couldn't open, while blocked by the desk, and Harry quickly locked it again. Percy hastily helped him build a barricade of sorts, levitating anything from a bookcase full of Quidditch books, to filing cabinets, to Quaffles.
"Viscidus!" Harry finished, gluing the makeshift barrier together, and then to the floor in an effort to give it strength.
The door was steadily being destroyed by the Death Eaters behind it, but it was buying them some time.
"The other door." Percy said curtly, gesturing behind them.
Harry nodded, but didn't move immediately. Instead, he cast another spell.
"Mutucutus!"
There were another couple of curses from the hallway, as the destructive spells, temporarily at least, had no effect. Harry turned, and tried to run across the room to their escape, but it turned into more of an accelerated hobble. If it wasn't for the subsequent fact that Percy must have rescued him from the stairway, Harry would have been tempted to curse him for his suggestion of apparition.
The door opened into a plush room, complete with comfortable chairs and a secretary's desk, but Harry didn't notice immediately. He was too busy locking the door with a different charm.
"Reception area for the Chairwizard of the British Association of Quidditch Players and-" Percy explained, but Harry interrupted him.
"The Floo!" He said, pointing at a large fireplace.
"It's internal." Percy said quickly. "But we should be able to get back and warn the Minister."
He stepped forwards towards the pot of Floo Powder beside the grate, as Harry lit it with a wave of his wand. As the powder hit the flames, they changed colour to green, and Harry felt a surge of relief well up inside him. It was short lived.
The fire went out.
"What?" Harry shouted angrily. "Incendio!"
The curse shot into the grate, but as it was about to hit the wood that was just waiting to be lit on fire, it veered upwards, and shot out of sight up the chimney.
"What the hell?" Harry said again.
"They've blocked the Floo." Percy said, managing to stop all but a bit of bitterness. Then, with a resolve that took Harry by surprise, he turned away from the fireplace, and sounded commanding. "Come on, that barrier won't last."
Harry left the room first, wand held in front of him protectively, and turned to his right, at Percy's order.
"How are they going to get out then?" Harry demanded. "If we can't apparate out, or use the Floo, how are they planning to get out if the Ministry finds they're here?"
Percy shook his head to show he didn't know, but said nothing. They continued silently down the corridor, turning into another as soon they could. The pursuers hadn't caught up with them yet. Harry crossed his fingers mentally that they had lost them. After an uneventful couple of minutes, Percy pointed towards another door.
"That's another staircase up." He told Harry.
"Isn't that the wrong way?"
Percy shrugged. "Yes. So maybe they won't follow us."
Harry raised his eyebrows in appreciation. He hadn't expected Percy to think on his feet. He was used to him obeying rules rigidly.
Percy turned to lock the door behind them, but Harry forced his wand away.
"If we lock it, then they'll know we've gone upstairs." He reasoned quietly.
Percy was panting hard by the time they reached the top of the stairs, which caused Harry to silently wonder just how badly Percy had been hit by the Cruciatus curse. He, himself, was finding that every step he took, and every second he had, since his failed attempt to apparate, meant he felt a little better. Belatedly, he realised that Percy didn't play Quidditch, or duel in Aravenne's lessons, and therefore wouldn't have the fitness Harry did.
They closed the door quietly behind them at the top of the stairs, and Percy led the way forward, along the corridors of the Department of Magical Transportation. Ten steps away from the next corner, they heard voices.
"Where the hell are Cauley and his group? I want to go upstairs and enjoy the fun."
"What have they got going?"
They were bland voices, ones which suggested a Ministry worker, or guard, tired of his job and waiting to be relieved, but the next person's words removed any doubt between Ministry workers, and Voldemort's murderers.
"The Widow rounded up the couple of Aurors left here, and is probably playing games with them as we speak."
"Don't let Ms. Lestrange hear you call her that, you idiot, Higginbotham. She'll kill you as soon as it's out of your mouth."
Harry and Percy stood stock still. If the men were close enough to eavesdrop against, then they didn't want to make any sudden sounds of their own.
"A kid killed her Husband, Terry, you sure she's all that she's cracked up to be?" Higginbotham retorted.
"When Cauley finally gets here we'll go upstairs, and if you keep your smart-aleck mouth shut, you'll learn something about power. Besides, I hear that kid, as you call him, Harry Potter, blocked the Avada Kedavra curse. He may be a kid, but I ain't duelling against him unless I have to."
Percy gasped loudly, causing the conversation to stop.
Harry resisted the temptation to swear. He glared at Percy, and raised his wand. Percy took a step backwards, and glanced around, looking tense.
"Finally." The one called Terry muttered. "Cauley, what the hell took y-"
A Death Eater rounded the corner and stopped.
"Incarcerus!" Percy said loudly.
"Stupefy." Harry said more calmly, at the same time.
The man was hit by both curses before he could react, and flew backwards in to the wall. Stunned. Trussed. And lying in a heap.
His comrades, hidden around the corner, cursed loudly. Percy took another step backwards. His hand was shaking, Harry noticed.
Two more men appeared, and both Harry's and Percy's curses were deflected this time. One of the two sent a wordless curse at Percy, but the other grinned maniacally, and curled his mouth lovingly around his incantation.
"Pulmelido."
Harry had already started to speak the shield charm Aravenne had taught him after the fight in Hogsmeade. "Bullatueor!"
The sickly yellow curse sped towards Harry, before, a foot away, it hit a shimmering, bubble-like obstruction. Ribbons of yellow curved away, and around, above, and even below him, surrounding him for a millisecond, before dissipating.
Harry's heart thumped in his chest in fury, and a red flash superimposed his vision. Instinctively, he knew what it was, and trusted in his subconscious.
"Falxiardor!" He screamed, his emotions using his voice to escape. He swiped the wand fiercely, but precisely.
The curse left his wand in a blinding, fiery red. It struck his assailant's mask, which lit like an inferno. The smell of charred flesh filled the air, and the Death Eater crumpled to the floor, a black mark diagonally halving the face, and the fire spreading quickly.
Harry's wand smoothly moved towards the third of Voldemort's servants, and he again trusted his instincts, using the first spell that came to mind.
"Reducto."
As if scared, the Death Eater tried to fling himself out of the way rather than use his wand, but the curse struck him just below his right shoulder, and he was flung backwards, red blood soaking into his robes.
"Y- Y- You-"
Harry glanced behind him to see a terrified Percy staring at him. Out of the corner of his eye Harry saw movement behind them.
"Duck!" He yelled, and collapsed, trusting that he could break his fall with his hands.
Three curses flew well over his head, and Harry rolled as he hit the ground.
"Impedimenta!" He replied, and the Death Eaters flattened themselves to the wall.
They responded in kind, and Harry blocked one curse, and avoided another. Percy barely shielded himself in time. With a speed that took himself by surprise, Harry sent a couple more curses down the corridor. His first curse missed, but his second hit a curse sent towards him by a squat looking witch, and glanced off to hit a wizard that immediately halted in place, frozen by the Impedimenta charm. The third Death Eater ducked behind a door as Percy rejoined the fray.
A sound behind them turned Harry to glance behind for a fraction of a second. Alarm bells rang in his head, but he was too intent upon avoiding another couple of curses to realise why for a couple of seconds. Then, as he cast a simple Protego spell to protect him from the explosion that came from the wall in front of him, it clicked. The man he had struck with the Reductor curse had vanished.
"Percy!" Harry shouted urgently. "He's gone!"
Percy had been working his way forward towards a door on the right of the corridor, but as he glanced to see Harry's gesture behind them with his head, he was caught by a spell, and his legs flailed around frantically. He overbalanced, rather fortuitously narrowly avoiding the Cruciatus curse as a result.
"Finite."Harry thought, ending the spell that had grounded the Weasley brother.
He sidestepped another spell, and, sweat running down his face, pointed his wand back towards the foe.
"Falxia!"
He didn't have time to see if it connected or not, for Percy, who had looked back at Harry, had clearly seen something behind him. Alarm bells went off in his head once more, and, connecting it with his earlier feeling of unease, he knew that reinforcements must have arrived.
Harry flung himself to his right, as he heard a gruff voice behind him say: "Quassossis!"
The curse only glanced against Harry, hitting his left arm, but it flung him forward onto his front, tearing his robes. He felt as if millions of sharp teeth were biting into his limp arm from both inside and out, and yelled in pain. Oaths from both behind and in front of him sounded, as Death Eaters were forced to evade spells which had missed, but Harry was too distracted by the pain to force himself to move in the couple of gained seconds.
"Crucio!" Someone yelled.
For a long second, Harry's body spasmed in agony – his arm shrieking in pain each time it jerked, and hitting the floor face first as it bounced. The curse lifted. Harry was being dragged by his good arm, and he had moved just far enough away to break the spell.
He stopped moving, and Percy's voice shouted out: "Mutucutus!"
Harry's left leg was struck by another glancing curse, and he vaguely heard the sickening crunch of bone through the pain. Then he was moving again. The next time he stopped, he heard the slam of a door, and he somehow gathered the strength to roll onto his back. Percy had just locked the door into a small room. His face was pale, and he was breathing heavily. Above the door was a sign, in large bold letters.
Portkey Placement Office
"Here." Percy said, offering Harry a velvet box.
Harry didn't look at the Order of Merlin that he hadn't even realised he'd dropped, nor did he marvel that Percy had decided he had to save it when he saw that he had. Instead he stared silently at the sign above the door, knowing he should say something, but not being able to halt his painful gasps to do just that.
Percy turned to see what had caught his attention.
"A Portkey!"
"Can you do it?" Harry asked, finding his voice.
"Theoretically." Percy muttered, and then continued quietly. "Will it work?"
"It better." Harry said fervently. He pushed himself into a sitting position with his uninjured hand.
Percy knelt beside Harry, half sheltered from the door by a desk, and, pointing his wand at the thing closest to hand – Sirius' Order of Merlin – started muttering. Harry felt himself grow weaker, and his concentration weakening.
"Alohomora." A voice said from behind the door.
"Colloportus!" Harry said quickly, and the door immediately sealed itself once more.
"Rejicia Maxima!" Another voice said before Harry could do anything to stop it.
The door exploded, to reveal two faceless masks, with a third behind them. They froze as they saw their quarry clearly for the first time.
"F-" One began under his breath.
"It's him." A second said in shock.
"Rejicia Max-" Harry began, barely noticing their hesitation, but a wordless wave of the third's wand silenced him.
"Kill him." He said, as Harry tried to concentrate through the pain to cast the spell wordlessly.
The other Death Eaters finally raised their wands again, and Harry screamed.
A hook had caught his midriff, and tugged him inelegantly through the air.
X x X x X x X x X
Harry arrived in the hall of Grimmauld Place on a stretcher, racked with agony despite the numbing charm that had been placed on him to lessen the pain. Dumbledore himself was beside him, hand placed comfortingly on his unharmed shoulder, and levitating Harry with his wand. The rest of the Order and the teachers were at the Ministry, trying to help restore order, and Percy had been immediately sent to St Mungo's after he had explained what had happened.
Dumbledore firmly, but politely, insisted that Harry was to be seen to elsewhere. The hospital was obviously not secure enough for the Headmaster's liking. The argument had continued until far out of Harry's hearing, as he had lain still, half comatose, having his most pressing medical needs seen to – such as the staunching of his wounds.
"I will see you up to your room, Harry, and then fetch Madam Pomfrey." He said softly, before turning to the girl at his side. "Miss Granger, please inform Master and Miss Weasley of the events that have just happened, and tell Alastor Moody that I require both his and Mundungus' presence in my study at Hogwarts at once. I shall-"
He was cut short by a scream. "Harry!" It was Ginny.
"I'm okay." Harry mumbled, but he couldn't hear the words he tried to say.
The room was growing gloomier, and the pain was starting to fade. He tried to push himself upright enough to see her, and realised that his hand was slippery with liquid. He was covered in it, he realised vaguely. He heard Dumbledore's calm voice echoing away into the distance as it dimmed, until he could hear it, and Ginny's sobs, no more, as he finally embraced unconsciousness.
"Harry has lost a lot of blood, Miss Weasley-"
X x X x X x X x X
The sightless face of charcoal's lidless eyes was staring at him wildly. It was so close that Harry could smell the stink of burnt death. The corpse was clothed in fire, its mouth opened in a grotesque, permanent silent scream. It stretched for Harry, trying to take him with it into the black abyss that was threatening to swallow it up behind it. It grabbed his throat, and Harry felt his neck starting to burn, blackening over from the inferno that enveloped the dead man. He lifted his wand to defend himself, and the corpse flew backwards, claimed by the vortex.
Harry's throat continued to burn, and the flames spread down his neck towards his stomach, enveloping everything in its path. He opened his mouth to yell, but all he could do was splutter, the flames flowing into his mouth…
Harry sat bolt upright to the continuing pain, his eyes snapping open; he had the vague feeling of familiar sheets, and yet an unfamiliar sterile smell, more suited to a hospital, than his own bedroom. Above him stood Poppy Pomfrey, a bottle in her hand, and a frown on her face.
"What-" Harry gasped, feeling a minute amount of liquid spill onto his chest.
Madam Pomfrey tutted briskly. "Lie down and let me do my job, Mr Potter. I'll mix you another sleeping draught – that last one should have been enough to sedate you in your weakened state, so this one could put you out for a while I'm afraid."
"No!" Harry said immediately, unable to completely keep the trace of fear out of his voice. "No." He repeated in a more controlled voice. "I don't want to sleep. Please."
Harry winced. A sharp pain had overwhelmed his left hand side, and he automatically tried to roll onto his right. The movement caused his whole body to ache in complaint, but as the pressure struck his left side once more, the sharpness of the earlier pain returned. Harry screwed up his face, and gritted his teeth.
"I can put you to sleep, and prevent you from feeling any pain while I work, Mr Potter." Madam Pomfrey said gently.
"No." Harry said again, and then gasped.
His arm felt as though it were burning as painfully as his throat had when the flaming corpse had…
"Lie down." Madam Pomfrey commanded, and she bent to help lower him without putting any pressure on his wounded side.
Harry's head lolled to his side as it hit the soft pillow, and he found himself staring at Ron, who was sitting on Harry's desk chair, his face white, and eyes red. His hands were clasped under his chin, nails digging into the backs of his hands.
"'Lo Harry." He said in a slightly shaking, quiet tone. He swallowed. "So much for it being safe."
"I'll be fine." Harry managed, wincing again as a jolt of pain consumed his whole body this time, rather than just his side.
Ron made a noise which sounded like he had tried to laugh, but instead expressed despair.
"I'm sorry." He managed to tell Harry quietly.
Harry felt Madam Pomfrey's presence return. "Drink this." She urged.
"No." Harry repeated. "No. Please. I'll put up with the pain."
He heard a small sob from his other side. Ginny.
"Please." Harry said, lowering his voice to the barest whisper. "I- I don't want to go to sleep and not be able to wake up."
"Very well." Madam Pomfrey said, the concern in her voice obvious. "This will hurt. If you should change your mind at any time, then tell me. Try to relax."
Harry closed his eyes as a particularly strong pain hit him. As Madam Pomfrey's first charm hit him, a wave of agony had erupted from his arm. Harry struggled to keep his teeth gritted, but eventually it was too much. He opened his mouth, and screamed.
X x X x X x X x X
It seemed to go on forever to Harry – lying with his teeth clenched, the rest of his body out of his control as the muscles squeezed in pain every time Madam Pomfrey removed each piece of bone. His bones were too badly hurt to remove by conventional means. They hadn't simply been dislocated, broken, or fractured in a couple of places: they had been crushed. The curses that had paid Harry glancing blows had pounded the bones into razor sharp fragments which burrowed themselves into places bones had never been meant to be.
A simple de-boning charm wasn't enough to remove them; Madam Pomfrey had to take out each piece separately. And each time she did, every piece that was left seemed to dig in furiously in their reluctance to be removed.
The first time Harry had a chance to, he had asked Ron, Ginny, and Hermione (who he had belatedly realised was also in the room) to leave. He didn't want them to see, or hear, him like that. Ginny and Hermione withdrew; Ron stayed, as if he hadn't heard him. He stared at Harry, face pale but determined. At times he seemed to flinch, as if Harry's pain was his own, but never did he say a word, nor did his eyes stop boring into him.
Madam Pomfrey had continually offered Harry the sleeping draught, but each time Harry refused. He would take the pain. That, he knew he could deal with.
He wasn't sure if he was getting used to the pain, and more able to deal with it, or if it was lessening as Madam Pomfrey worked, but he found himself begin to blot it out, and retreated into his Occlumency. Perhaps it was neither, but rather he was trying to repel the pain by sheer force of will.
His Occlumency was improving dramatically, Harry knew, as he conjured up the image of the Department of Mysteries in his mind, but his finished Sanctuary was far from complete. As he stared at the Archway, he was struck by another idea as to how to improve his defences, and tried to work through it as Dumbledore had taught him to, trying to find any weaknesses in it. Now and then, part of his body was stabbed in pain, but Harry tried to ignore it.
X x X x X x X x X
"Drink this, Mr Potter." Madam Pomfrey said quietly, holding a beaker to his mouth.
Harry shook his head and blinked. The pain wasn't gone completely, but was a dull throb in the background. He was half sitting up, he realised, and tried to push himself up into a more comfortable position, but only his right arm responded. He glanced at his floppy limbs, and then at the beaker Madam Pomfrey was holding, and groaned.
"Not Skele-Gro."
Madam Pomfrey shook her head. "After the pain you just put yourself through, I doubt you will feel this Mr Potter, now drink."
Harry screwed his face up, and tried to drink the liquid that burned its way unpleasantly down his throat. With a heroic effort he managed not to cough until the liquid had gone down far enough not to come back up again, and before he knew it, Ron was at his side with a goblet of water.
"I'm sorry Harry." He said again, in a voice filled with guilt.
"You couldn't have done anything." Harry told him.
"I should have been there." Ron said angrily. "I told you, we all told you that-"
He stopped. At first Harry had thought he had glanced at Madam Pomfrey, and remembering she wasn't in the Order, had thought to stay quiet. Then Harry followed his gaze. Mrs Weasley, a very tired, frightened Mrs Weasley, had entered the room.
"Harry-"
"How could you?" Ron said heatedly. "Harry could have died!"
"Ron-"
"Harry could have died, and you stopped me being able to do anything to stop it." His voice quivered with emotion. "How could you?" He repeated.
He took another glance at Harry, as though to reassure himself that he would live, and pushed past his mother, out onto the landing. Mrs Black's portrait started screaming in the distance. Mrs Weasley, speechless and trembling, didn't look able to move. A particularly powerful pain in his arm caused Harry to look away, and he noticed a bottle of Dreamless Sleep potion on his bedside table.
He wondered when it had been placed there, and immediately wondered: why? Even his knowledge of Potions knew that strong sleeping draughts like that could do serious damage when mixed with other potions, or given to a patient who had suffered blood loss, or severe trauma. Tick all of the above.
"Molly, Poppy, I require a few moments of Harry's time." Dumbledore said quietly from the doorway. "Does Harry have any pressing medical requirements Poppy?"
"Simply bed rest." Madam Pomfrey said. "He ought to have a supply of painkilling potions just in case, and he must take another blood replenishing potion in the morning, but there is little else magic can do for him." She fixed Harry with a stare. "He needs to stay in bed tomorrow, and take it easy for at least the next week. Is that understood, Mr Potter?"
"Er, yes Ma'am." Harry said, giving a lopsided grin – everyone present knew that he would be out of bed as soon as possible given the opportunity.
"Thank you Poppy. I will send someone to pick the potions up as soon as possible."
"I shall need half an hour to get them ready, Headmaster." Madam Pomfrey warned, and then turned back to Harry. "If you need to take any of that particular potion beside you, Mr Potter, you may take a teaspoonful no sooner than four hours from now, and no more. You may take twice that amount for the next four days, but only if absolutely necessary, and after that you shall need a fortnight to get it completely out of your system. Be warned that you shall feel weak and fragile the day after taking it." She switched to a warning tone. "And do not take an ounce more, or sip a second sooner than I said."
Harry nodded and Madam Pomfrey straightened in a nod of her own. "Headmaster, Molly, Mr Potter."
"Molly, I must talk to Harry in private for a little while." Dumbledore said immediately Madam Pomfrey had apparated away.
"Of course, Albus." Mrs Weasley said in a calm voice which belied how she was feeling. "Everyone will be relieved to know Harry will be alright."
Dumbledore took a couple of steps to Harry's bedside as the door closed, and took the seat that Ron had left. He grimaced, stood up, and with a wry shake of the head conjured himself a chintz armchair.
"My back needs a chair more comfortable I'm afraid, Harry. I regret: a sign of old age."
Harry gave a small grin. Harry had seen Dumbledore in action; in spite of his age, it was difficult to imagine that Dumbledore had a bad back. It seemed more likely to Harry that Dumbledore liked his small comforts.
"You are very fortunate in your selection of friends, Harry." Dumbledore said. "Although one could perhaps say that luck has little to do with it, but that like minded people are drawn together."
"Ron-" Harry trailed off.
"Your friend Ronald Weasley shows a true friend's courage by caring for your life as much as he does his own. It is perhaps difficult for Molly to accept that her youngest children are becoming adults, and capable of making adult decisions. It is natural for parents to want to protect their children from harm, Harry."
"I know." Harry said, with the slightest touch of bitter irony in his voice before saying helplessly. "I don't want to cause Ron and Mrs Weasley to fight."
"This will not stop them from caring for each other, but they may find that their relationship will forever be changed. They will both acknowledge each other's protective feelings in time, do not fear. You must not trouble yourself about that now."
Harry nodded reluctantly.
"But let us not leave out your other friends from this praise; just because Miss Ginevra is more adept at controlling her emotions does not make her any less a person." Dumbledore offered him a smile. "And, you may have been, quite understandably, too indisposed to realise, but Miss Granger did a far better job than the Aurors assigned to protect your privacy after your own and Percy Weasley's return."
Harry went red, and gave a small chuckle. Then he felt himself grow more solemn, as he thought of Percy.
"Sir, Percy saved my life in there at least three times."
Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "I think perhaps you had better tell me everything you can remember, starting from the time you and Mr Weasley first left the ceremony.
Harry nodded – he thought that was what Dumbledore had been there for.
"Percy wanted to talk about…" Harry hesitated, "… things… in private, and he wasn't going to be able to talk to me after this so we went away from the party."
After Percy had saved his life as he had, Harry felt that the original argument between them should remain secret. Dumbledore didn't push him on the subject, and other than quiet promptings, stayed silent during Harry's recital. Harry's tone of voice steadied as he explained the killing of the Death Eater, and he didn't look at Dumbledore, but the Headmaster made no greater reaction to this news than to anything else Harry had said.
Dumbledore nodded, as Harry finished. "Once more, Harry, you have done far more than anyone could expect of you. That you and Percy Weasley escaped safely is testament to both of you."
Harry took the praise without a smile. "I killed him. That Death Eater."
Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "You did, yes."
"How does that make me any different to them?" Harry demanded, in a rush of words. "When Rodolphus Lestrange- When I killed him, it was because his curse bounced back at him, but- I meant to kill him. I knew what I was doing. I-"
Dumbledore held up at his hand. "Your question answers itself, Harry. The fact that you have these fears sets you apart from the person you fear becoming. But tell me: you were vastly outnumbered, fighting for your life alongside a man you possibly had doubts about, against opponents more experienced than you. Had you not hit the first man with the Falxiardor curse, or the second with the Reductor, what would have happened?"
Harry gave a small shrug, and when Dumbledore said nothing, finally answered with a small sigh. "We'd have had three of them fighting us on one side, and two on the other. They'd probably have killed us."
"Exactly." Dumbledore said. "Only a wizard, who is both exceptionally talented, and superbly taught, could ever have considered doing more than fighting for their lives."
"Such as you."
Dumbledore's beard twitched. "Such as I." He allowed. "I say again: no one, including yourself, Harry, could expect any more from you."
"So why were the Death Eaters there?" Harry asked. "Were they after me, or...?"
"Your presence was unfortunate coincidence I fear, Harry." Dumbledore sighed. "If the fact that you stepped into the Ministry's corridors had signified an attack, we can be certain that you would have had to face far more of Voldemort's force than you did. I shall not know their reasons for certain until I talk to the Minister tonight. I find it quite unlikely that you and Mr Weasley were the targets."
"Sir-" Harry began, and then stopped, unsure as to the best way to phrase his request.
"Yes Harry?"
"Percy- Well, it's coming up to Christmas, isn't it? And, well, Remus asked Mr and Mrs Weasley if they'd like to have Christmas here. Because, well, I can't leave here, can I?" Harry went red slightly. "But Percy can't come here, it being the Headquarters, and all." He trailed off.
Dumbledore studied him closely for an almost imperceptible moment, before nodding. "I shall have a word with the Weasley family, Harry, and see what can be done."
X x X x X x X x X
"How are you doing that, Harry?" Hermione said in frustration, as a warm golden glow spread over his entire arm.
"Nox." Harry said, concentrating, and his arm returned to a normal colour. "It's a simple charm, Hermione." He said innocently, concealing a grin.
"You know quite well that's not what I mean."
While Madam Pomfrey had assigned bed rest to Harry, she hadn't forbidden visitors, and neither had she forbidden Harry to practice wandless magic. He grinned. That might have been because she didn't know about it. Not that he felt up to doing much, however. She had been right, he did feel wiped out thanks to the tiny amount of Dreamless Sleep potion he had taken, but he had a need to feel he was achieving something.
"You have to find the right version of magic for you," he told her, unable to stop his grin now, "I'm trying Golden Snitches, that seems to be working for me. Maybe you should try books." He added mischievously.
Hermione gave a sound of disgust. "I'd have to be able to see the representation of magic first. I just can't imagine it – all I see is blackness."
"I have spent a year doing Occlumency." Harry told her fairly. "A lot of the things I did for that were to help me imagine things in my head. Close your eyes, and take deep breaths. Don't try and force it, just let an image go into your head on its own. When it does, try controlling it, and changing things in it."
"Ever thought of trying to teach us how to be Virgaemin in the DA Harry?" Ron said, interrupting the peace, and making Hermione's eyes open.
Harry gave a look of mingled disgust and disbelief at the suggestion. "All I can do is make my skin glow, Ron, and only with a lot of effort."
He closed his eyes, and concentrated hard, to prove his point. A few seconds later his hand glowed white.
Ron shrugged ruefully. "Just hoping."
"Have you tried doing anything else Harry?" Ginny asked.
"Not really." He admitted. "Nox."
He reached for the wand on his bedside table, and with it, opened the drawer to the desk behind Ron, summoning a book to him before closing the drawer again.
"Aravenne told me to get this out of the library and study it." He held up the rather old looking book gingerly. "It's from the Restricted Section."
"Restricted Section?" Ginny asked.
Harry gave a lopsided grin. "It's not that it does anything, it's just, well…"
He opened the book near the back, showing them a lightning bolt shaped diagram. A page of small writing was opposite it, and, Harry knew, it continued for pages onwards as it explained how to cast the spell most efficiently.
"And…" Ron prompted.
"Well, it gives diagrams of the perfect wand movement for each spell. A lot of the spells have little bits that you usually miss out when using your wand, but you need to know them when trying to do them wandlessly. And when I say 'each spell', well," He pointed to the page, "that one's Avada Kedavra."
His friends were prevented from speaking by the twins' entrance. Their apparition hadn't been the normal exuberant sound, but was a far more sedate pop. Their faces were uncharacteristically serious, and tired.
"Hi Harry." Fred said immediately.
"You okay?" George finished.
Harry nodded. "How about you? What happened to the shop?"
"Death Eaters." George said shortly. "They killed the security guards and tried to trash the place."
"Was anyone else hurt?" Hermione asked anxiously.
Fred gave a short, bitter laugh. "Just the security guards. We closed it down early for the day, seeing as all the Aurors were going to be on duty at the Ministry. We should have given everyone the night off, and screw the guards."
"Still, the Aurors didn't help you much, did they Harry." George said angrily, before swearing loudly.
"So what are you going to do now?" Ginny asked. "Without the shop."
Fred laughed again, but this time in dark satisfaction. "Who said they succeeded in destroying the shop? They didn't even manage to destroy all the display items, and we keep our stock hidden when we're shut."
"They aren't going to put us out of business that easily." George said.
"But how-" Ron began, bemused.
"The Ministry collected the bodies of those who didn't run after they were hit by the first part of security system." Fred interrupted.
"Bodies?" Hermione asked in horror.
Fred and George shared a glance, and Harry could tell just by looking at their eyes that Death Eaters had died. To some extent, they reflected the conflict in his.
"Damn it, Hermione it's their own bloody fault." Fred said viciously. "It's like Remus said in the summer-"
"-they're the ones that attacked us!" George continued. "It's not our fault they died, it's theirs."
"Our first traps were just to incapacitate them." Fred added. "It's their own fault if they don't know when to give up."
"We didn't do anything wrong. They were the creeps who tried to destroy Diagon Alley."
"What other shops are still there?" Ginny asked, changing the subject.
"Not many near us." George said, simmering. "Ollivanders is."
"Yeah, they couldn't even enter it – they kept being tossed out on their rears." Fred explained. "But there aren't many other big shops near us, most of the small ones were burnt to the ground. There's a robe shop down the street that's still there, but they lost most of their stock."
"There's a Pots and Pans shop that they didn't even try to touch. The owner's probably a Death Eater himself." George said bitterly.
"But you're still going?" Harry asked.
"Of course, and if You-Know-Who thinks he can stop us, he can go f-"
"Fred!" Hermione said in reprimand.
"We told you we had plans we could fall back on if You-Know-Who attacked, Hermione." Fred said calmly, giving her a hard look. "And they haven't seen half of them yet."
Hermione gave a sardonic shrug. "What better security system than one designed by a couple of thieves."
"Hey!" George said in indignation, and suddenly the twins reverted to their more normal, mischievous style. "We prefer the term: 'Recoverers of Unjustly Seized Goods'."
"Or perhaps 'Champions of Justice who Risk Everything for the Good of Friends and Country, Even Themselves and Their Honour'."
"I like it Fred, but it's a bit long, maybe we should just leave it as 'Champions of Justice'?"
Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all shook their heads in resignation. The twins would always be the twins.