Rane did not come to sluggishly this time, as she had in the times before when she'd lost control. In the forest outside of Ylle Thalas, she'd been knocked out cold for the best part of a full night; after Lordran had poisoned her, she hadn't woken for days. This night, when she awoke, it had been only hours.

When she came to, she was in a bed, but it was not at Grimmauld Place. It was at Hogwarts, in the hospital wing.

When her eyes opened, she was looking at the billowing curtains at the end of the wing. Outside, the sky was dark, star-studded, For a moment she watched them fluttering in the wind, their shape curving and stretching, trying to place herself, trying to recall why there was a deep, terrible ache inside her, as if someone had scooped out her insides and left her barren and empty. But nothing would come to her, not now.

She sat up, turning from the window, looking down at herself. The blanket over her was pulled down to her waist, and she could see blood on one thigh, spreading up to the sleeve of her shirt. Her sword's sheath hung at her waist, empty, and the pocket where her dagger lived was, too.

She turned her head. There were four people standing there; Albus Dumbledore, Remus Lupin, Wade Roth, and another man that Rane vaguely recognized.

"Dad?" she said, her brow furrowed. Her eyes traveled to the four wands trained at her. "What are you doing?"

The voice that emanated from her throat was hoarse and strange, and for a moment Rane hardly recognized it as her own. It was cracked and grating from the screaming she'd done. The crying. In some other place, where something had happened, something so terrible her mind would not allow her to remember.

"Rane," said Wade. "Don't let it take you over."

Rane looked from him, to Dumbledore, to Lupin, to the man who sat beside her father. He was sallow, with oily black hair and a piercing gaze, and suddenly as she looked at him she remembered -

- Sirius falling -

- the light striking him in the chest -

- Harry screaming -

She was on her feet in an instant, the blanket thrown from her. All four men before her lifted their wands.

"What happened?" she breathed. "Where's Sirius?"

"Rane," said Remus gently. "Sit down. Please."

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked him sharply.

Remus gestured to the bed behind her. "Sit down and we will explain -"

"He was hit with a spell, he fell through that - that arch thing - but then someone Stunned me, and he . . . I didn't see him get back out, I must have . . . I just, I need to see him."

She looked at her father with bleak, almost childlike pleading.

"Dad, where is he?" she said quietly, her voice breaking.

"I need you to sit down, Rane," said her father, very soft. His wand had not moved yet; it was still aimed directly at her, unwavering.

Rane looked from his wand to his face, then slowly lowered herself back down onto the bed. The sheets were cool beneath her palms. She looked at him, her eyes bright beneath her brows.

"I'm sitting," she said, barely more than a whisper.

An awful silence fell between the five of them. Rane's harsh breathing was the only sound.

"Rane," said Wade, "you hush now and listen to me. You listen to your dad."

He took a breath, as if steadying himself. His own eyes were overbright, his brows contracted above them. He looked terribly pale. The corners of his mouth were turned down, and his lower lip had taken on the faintest tremble.

"Baby, Sirius didn't make it out of the Ministry tonight."

For a moment Rane could hear nothing except for her own breathing. It was harsh, almost gasping. Wade remained where he was, watching her, his throat working.

"No, he made it," she said faintly, looking at him. Incredibly, she felt a smile playing about her mouth. He was mistaken, hilariously mistaken. "Dad, he made it. He made it, he just fell down."

She turned her eyes to Remus, her smile fading. "Remus, you saw him, he just fell. He just fell."

But Remus was shaking his head slowly. His eyes were swollen and red.

Rane stood again presently, looking between them. She could feel her heartbeat, hummingbird-quick, just beneath her shirt; her skin felt cold, so cold. There was a strange, low drone in the center of her head, like a battery, or a power line.

"Where is he?" she said softly.

Wade was lifting his wand higher now. "Rane -"

But Rane was shaking her head slowly, and now her eyes were beginning to glow. The curtains at the end of the room were fluttering now, just gently.

"No," she said softly, not only a refusal of what she was hearing but a hopeless negation against the potency washing over her now, as swift and cold and inexorable as a riptide. She almost welcomed it for its kind release; relinquishing control to this power would be sweet respite, such a gentle relief from what was before her now. "No . . ."

"Control it!" said Wade sharply.

"No!" Rane gasped, and then words failed her as the energy in the center of her which had been creeping around her tenderly suddenly constricted fast like a fist. The shadows beneath her on the stone-flagged floor began to lengthen. The curtains were flailing wildly now, and the men before her stood against the sudden gale, their robes flapping madly.

"RANE!" said Wade loudly. "CONTROL IT!"

Rane's feet parted with the floor, and as the air around her began to thrum with energy, her hair floating in a lazy cloud around her head, she loosed a low, horrible, inarticulate cry from deep within herself. It echoed strangely around them.

"Rane, remember the Ministry!" Wade bellowed, his eyes wide, startlingly blue in the dim light. "He didn't fall, Rane, he was Cursed! You have to remember, and you have to control it! Before it controls you!"

"Headmaster!" the sallow man at Albus's side said loudly, looking at Rane with clear dismay. Albus lifted his free hand to his side at once.

"Wait," he commanded, his voice low.

And now a curious thing was happening, because Rane was standing before her bed, her eyes flickering between hazel and bright blue-white, the light emanating from her fractured like a strobe. All four men before her stood their grounds, their fists clenched and white-knuckled around their wands.

HE FELL, a strange voice within her insisted, inexorably persuasive, full of anger. WE SAW HIM FALL.

But Rane remembered now, as she hung before them, her hair flipping about her face wildly, her eyes flashing. She remembered the archway, and the green light hitting him. She remembered Sirius falling through. She remembered the look on his face, the light in his eyes whiffing out like a candle in a high wind. She struggled, tried to grasp this thing inside her, but it eluded her like water through her fingers, slippery, untrustworthy, and now the bed behind her was beginning to move backwards, its metal feet scraping against the stone . . .

"Rane," said Albus gently.

Rane's eyes fell upon him, her face contorted.

Albus was looking calmly up at her. He spoke three words, lost in the low thrum of the energy emanating from her, but Rane saw them on his lips and understood them all the same.

"He is gone."

And just like that, it evaporated. Rane dropped back to the floor in a heap, her long legs folding around her, staring at Albus. Wade, Remus and the man with the black hair held their wands trained on her still, but it seemed unnecessary now; nothing about her seemed threatening. Indeed, nothing about her seemed anything but wrought with agony. Her expression was bleak, entreating. The curtains at the end of the room had at last stilled.

"Gone?" she whispered. It was a question, but only just.

Albus rose and strode to her. He knelt before her, reached out and took one of her hands lightly. He looked at from above his half-moon glasses, his eyes bright. The sadness in those eyes terrified her.

"Oh, my dear one," he said softly, "I fear that he is, and that we must bear it."

Rane looked into his face, into the clear blue eyes that brooked no argument, and she lowered her head and burst into tears. And in that moment, though three trembling wands were trained on her, though three capable wizards stood ready to hex her into the abyss should she show her teeth, she looked like nothing now so much as a lean, coltish teenager, her hair hanging in her face, her shoulders heaving.

And then there were arms around her, and she recognized them not as her father's but as Remus's, and he held her tightly against him. She buried her face in his shoulder, smelling the light, earthy scent of him, gripping his shirt in her fist.

"Oh, Rane," he said quietly, and she heard the tears in his voice. "I am so sorry."

Remus held her close to him, and through the sounds of his gruff sobs Rane could hear the whistling wind through the open windows at the end of the hallway, lonely and low.

"WHAT happened to him?" Rane asked listlessly.

Remus, who had sat himself close beside her, reached out and took her hand where it lay like a dead fish on the blanket, and squeezed it. It had been half an hour since, and no one had spoken until now. Albus and Wade had sat on nearby beds, both looking weary and unhappy; the sallow man who had accompanied them stood to their right, his wand still held loosely at his side, watching Rane cautiously.

"It was Bellatrix," said Remus bitterly.

Rane lowered her head. She was staring at her knees; both of the knees of her jeans had been shredded in the fray, and she could see a fresh bruise rising on one of them from some shenanigans or another at the Ministry of Magic in the hours past, no doubt.

"I'll find her," said Rane, very softly.

"You'll do no such thing!" said Wade sharply.

Rane looked up at him from beneath her brows, her eyes suddenly blazing, and both Wade and Snape raised their wands at her immediately.

"Im cerum ust-est," she whispered, "nim mel la-fern."

What she had said - I will do as I wish, for my sun has set - was understood only by Wade, whose wand lowered at once as he stared at her, his expression twisting oddly at her words in a way only a parent witnessing his child's grief could. Her eyes were flames in the dim, glowing like coal; her mouth was turned down, a moue of grief, her brows drawn together, the corners of her lips lost in shadow. Her eyes were bright with tears.

"He wouldn't want that," Wade said, his voice thick.

Rane was on her feet again in an instant, and suddenly the bed behind her flew backwards with such force that it struck the far wall, bending the steel frame. It made a horrific, shrill sound and then fell with a clang, its forefront crumpled. Remus, who had stood just in time, stood staring at it in shock.

"WHAT IS IT HE WOULD WANT, IF NOT THAT?" she shouted.

Rane's feet parted with the floor again, and it seemed that this time they were all done for, because in the space of a second every bed within ten feet of Rane had gone shooting across the floor at the wall in a rush. The sound of the bed frames colliding with the stone walls was deafeningly loud.

"I'LL KILL HER," she said, her voice echoing.

"You do him a disservice, then," said Dumbledore.

Rane looked at him. He looked back at her calmly.

"Sirius would not have wanted that," he went on softly.

"You know what Sirius would have wanted?" she said loudly.

Dumbledore looked at her in calm silence.

"Sirius would want to be alive!" she said. "He would want to be ALIVE! THAT'S what he'd want!"

"Rane," said Dumbledore.

"WHAT ABOUT OUR BABY?" Rane shouted. Her eyes were voracious, animal-like in their fury, but now there were tears rolling down her cheeks. "WHAT ABOUT ME? WHAT ABOUT US?"

The chandelier above them was rattling ominously now, its clanging chimes very loud.

"Headmaster!" said Snape warily, eyeing her. "We were to Stun her if she - !"

"Listen to me, Rane," said Dumbledore, ignoring Snape. "Sirius loved nothing more in this world than you and Harry. He would not want either of you rushing off to murder Bellatrix Lestrange on his behalf. There are a great many things I do not know about him - he was a complicated man, as you know - but I do know that. And I believe both you and Harry know that, too."

The thought of Harry shook Rane deep down in a way nothing else had. She'd nearly forgotten, in her grief, that Sirius had been loved by many, not just by her. She remembered, suddenly and jarringly, the sound of him screaming his Godfather's name. The anger, the furor. Things she felt now. Things she well knew.

In the corner, one of the broken bed frames fell to the floor with a ringing clang.

"If we are to continue to allow you to stay at Hogwarts," said Albus, gentle but firm, "I must ask you to control yourself, Rane. For the sake of yourself as well as our students and staff.'

Rane looked at him for a moment, then dipped a hand into her pocket for her wand and came up empty. She looked at her father.

"Where is it?" she asked him listlessly.

Wade patted his jeans pocket. "Got your dagger too."

Rane sighed. "I just wanted to fix -"

She glanced around her guiltily. Albus lifted his wand at once, however, and the beds around them returned to their rightful places in a whirl of sheets. Remus sat beside her, showing no sign of reticence in spite of her outburst, which she appreciated rather a lot.

"Thanks, Albus," said Rane, sitting back down.

THIS is Professor Severus Snape," Albus said.

Rane, who was staring listlessly at the stone-flagged floor, lifted her eyes slowly. She could not be less interested in making this man's acquaintance; indeed, she could not be less interested in much of anything. All the piss and vinegar had left her; she felt like a husk of a creature. Her insides felt like a whistling hollow, a sterile place where nothing could grow or live. What she wanted was to sleep, to embrace the nothingness of it and forget about all of this for a few hours. But it seemed Dumbledore had other plans for her. He was looking at her now not with pity but with expectation. Now is not the time to fall apart, those eyes said. Now is the time to do your duty. And he was right, wasn't he? She wasn't an Auror, not anymore, but she still belonged to the Order of the Phoenix, and to that she had to hold true. To her duty. To her job. What else was there now, if not that?

"Severus Snape," she repeated. She looked into his eyes. He was staring at her from over his hooked nose, looking vaguely scornful. She nodded to him. "Pleasure. Sorry you had to see me like this."

"Not at all," said Severus, faintly derisive.

"Severus is a . . . a friend of ours from Hogwarts," said Wade quietly, glancing sidelong at him. He had finally lowered his wand and stuffed it into his robes pocket, and now he was squatted next to the nearest cot, his hands clasped between his legs. His face was pale, almost ashen. "He's an Order member too. We're at Hogwarts," he added suddenly, looking at his daughter as if remembering an important fact he'd forgotten to mention. "This is the hospital wing. We brought you here after the . . . After the Ministry."

"I know," said Rane. She had been here many times as a student, but in truth she could not have cared less where she was. There were only two things in her mind clanging against one another in a heedless ricochet: she was pregnant, and she would not see him again. She was pregnant, and she would not see him again.

"We have matters to discuss," said Albus, watching Rane carefully. "In the months to come, we will need you and Wade more than ever. Your efforts are not only invaluable but necessary."

"Yes," said Rane, still staring at the floor. Remus squeezed her hand gently, and she felt a sudden, bright gratitude for him, so terribly potent it nearly undid her. Remus had not left her side; he was sat close enough for their hips to touch, one arm around her shoulders. She felt tears spring to her eyes, and swiped at her face with the heels of her hand. And now, something else was occurring to her, something she had not had occasion to even consider until now.

"What happened after I was out?" she said, forcing herself to look up at Albus. "Is anyone else -?"

"Voldemort appeared at the Ministry of Magic," said Dumbledore. "Cornelius Fudge witnessed him there, as did a score of Aurors who arrived at his heel. Harry was attacked."

Rane made a sudden motion, as if to stand. "Is he alright?"

"He is not hurt," said Dumbledore, and for a moment he lowered his head. "I will not go so far as to say he is all right. He is . . . He is grieving for his Godfather. And he is very angry with those he feels are responsible."

"I'd like to see him," said Rane quietly.

"That can be arranged," said Dumbledore at once.

"Headmaster, I hardly think it would be appropriate to allow Miss Roth access to the rest of the school grounds," Snape said silkily, eyeing Rane with clear distrust. "After what I have seen tonight, in particular. Our students -"

"Rane is an Order member," said Dumbledore. "A trusted one. She is welcome at Hogwarts."

Snape fell silent, still eyeing Rane.

"How are the rest of them?" Rane asked. "Ron and Hermione and Mad-Eye and all the rest?"

"See for yourself," said Wade, jerking his head towards the opposite end of the hospital wing.

Rane craned her neck and saw several figures in beds, all of them still asleep somehow even after the racket she'd been making, probably via a potion or spell of Albus's or making. On one pillow she saw the distinct red fluff of hair that could only belong to a Weasley.

"Mad-Eye's at St. Mungo's," said Remus. "He got thrown into a wall and knocked silly when it happened. Won't be the first time, he'll manage. And Tonks got a pretty bad thump on the head, but she'll come round."

"How did Cornelius take it?" Even in spite of her grief, Rane was curious.

Dumbledore sighed. "As well as could be expected. His days of skepticism have thankfully fallen behind us at last, but we are not in the clear yet."

"We think he'll be sacked," said Wade. "I give it a few weeks, maybe months if he's lucky. In any case I think he can kiss his ass goodbye."

Rane found her sympathy was limited for Fudge, who had fired her from her position as an Auror that previous Fall. With a pang, she found herself remembering the night she'd lost her job and shown up at Sirius's doorstep. She remembered looking in the mirror, wondering if she should just walk away. And had it been worth it? Was love worth it, if it meant you had to feel this way even for a single moment?

". . . job back," Remus was saying.

"Yeah," said Rane, assuming he'd said what she'd been thinking. "Maybe I will. Depends on who steps in next."

A brief silence fell between them. Rane had more questions - many more - but exhaustion was overcoming her quickly. Her grip on Remus's hand had loosened.

"We will discuss all of this at greater length in the morning," said Dumbledore, standing. He, too, looked tired. "But now, I believe that we are all exhausted and heartsick and we ought to get some rest."

The idea of going to her flat, where the chill and solitude were certain to sink into her bones like a cancer, filled Rane with woe at once. She looked up at Dumbledore, but he beat her to it, as always.

"I would very much like it if you would remain here tonight, Rane," he said. He gestured to the broad hospital wing, which was silent except for the chirp of crickets outside the window and Ron's distant snores. "Wade, Remus, the offer stands as well. We can pick up tomorrow morning over a proper Hogwarts breakfast."

RANE had pulled the blankets up to her ears and was staring out of the window, tears rolling silently down her face. The sounds of Remus's bedsprings squeaking as he got himself situated nearby and Dumbledore's and Snape's receding footsteps came behind her. The stars were glistening through the flapping curtains, shot through with bright streaks of yellow and white clouds.

She felt a weight fall at the side of her bed, behind her, and then her father's hand was on her forehead, smoothing back her hair gently. The springs squeaked and then he'd placed a kiss on her temple, in the same place Remus had.

"It's gonna be okay," Wade said quietly. "It will. I promise."

"I feel lost," said Rane in barely more than a whisper. Her chest felt empty with want of him, unfillable, voided in a horrible way. "I don't know what to do now." She gulped, feeling her chest hitch. "It feels . . . Wrong . . ."

Wade was stroking her head. "That . . . bitch," he said, his voice suddenly cold with vitriol, and Rane felt a savage affection for him. He sighed, then added, "Elves don't do death well, baby. We sure don't. But we can, and we will. I miss him, too, baby. An awful, awful lot."

He bent and kissed her again, and this time Rane felt the dampness of his tears.

"I sure do love you, girl," he said, and then he had padded away. A moment later Rane heard him fall into his own bed, and then she was alone.