A/N: Well, here it is. The chapter you've been patiently waiting for. Things are about to get nasty...
UPDATE 5th June: Trimmed some of the battles at the Granger and Lovegood homes. Hope that's enough to squeak past the rating...
Molly Weasley stood at the kitchen sink in their kitchen, washing the dishes. The fact she was doing them by hand rather than using magic was a sign of just how angry Arthur was.
By the time they had returned from Gringotts Molly had regained use of her voice, and her temper. "Who does that bitch think she is? Where has that hussy been hiding the last fifteen years, while I've been taking care of poor Harry..."
"ENOUGH!" Arthur roar had cut her off... and stunned all their children. They had all stared in slack-jawed amazement at the normally mild-mannered man.
"Molly, your attitude and actions have already got this whole family in trouble with the goblins. Its only because Harry... Mister Potter, was so forgiving that we were able to walk out of there."
"FORGIVING? Arthur, he wants nearly fifty-two and a half thousand Galleons!" Ron's jaw dropped as his ears started turning red.
"And we will repay every knut woman!" Arthur cut her off before she could get a head of steam up. "You know that you had no right to use his money to pay for all that you bought these last few years!"
"Our children needed those things!"
"And we could have bought them ourselves, without having to rob another!" With a groan Arthur raised a hand to massage his forehead. "Molly... you're really messed things up. Going behind my back, stealing not only Harry's, but our daughter's future..." He sighed before looking at her solemnly. "I need time to think about this. But two things first. First... where are the potions you've been feeding them?"
Molly had puffed up in anger. "How dare you! I would never...!"
"I already know, Molly. Don't bother trying to deny it. Now, I want those potions, now."
Molly had been stunned at her husband's calm, yet forceful manner. The outer layer that everyone else saw – the affable, soft, mild-mannered over the hill figure – was gone. Now his inner, true nature was clear: unbending, unyielding pillar of moral conduct and justice. She'd first seen it when the truth about how she got his attention had come out; it had terrified her and aroused her in equal measure. Over the years since their marriage there had been less and less occasions when Arthur showed his true colours. The last had been four years ago, when he'd stood up to – and taken a swing at – that 'paragon of Pureblood virtue' Lucius Malfoy.
Now though, that ire was directed solely at her, and there was nothing arousing about it this time. Molly almost gave in and told him about the secret compartment, but then stiffened herself, remembering what her mother had told her. It had been her who had taught the young Molly Prewett, shortly before her marriage, about how to install such a secret compartment. The Prewetts had always been ruled by the women, and Molly was to continue the line with fresh blood. Molly had seen the decline of her Families fortunes and glory, but had been powerless to do anything to stop it: all the noble line heirs had already been set into contracted marriages, leaving her with little chance of bringing fresh wealth into her family without defecting to the Dark.
The association with the Order had been a godsend. The chance to see and be seen by all the noble Light Families. By being bound together with such a cause, they could become good friends to the likes of the Potters, the Bones and the Longbottoms. And afterwards, their children could grow up together... and get married later on. And Molly, as mother-in-law to one of those immensely wealth families, would be elevated to the style that she had been born to.
But things had gone terribly wrong. The Bones had been all but wiped out, leaving just that frigid hardened battleaxe Amelia and a niece from a younger brother of the Bones she had known. And then the girls parents had died a couple of years later. The girl was of Ron's age, but Molly knew the rules of inheritance: Ronald or any of their other son's would have had to give up their family name to wed her. And with Madam Bones looming in the background, Molly would have been cut out of the loop in regard to the Bones family.
The Longbottoms, technically the lowest of those three families, had emerged from the War unscathed... but a couple of months later they had been attacked, leaving the Longbottoms mindless vegetables and the only heir a presumed squib.
The Potters had always been the ones she'd been eyeing. Richer than the others, but more importantly, powerful and respected. The Potter Family had been a major influence on the world in the past century. The young James had been quite the catch, but sadly totally devoted to his new wife, Lily.
Lily. Molly still shivered at the thought of the younger witch. Ronald had gotten his jealous nature from his mother, who had been, and now still was, intensely jealous of Lily's looks, charm, intelligence and power. And most of all, her becoming the next Lady Potter. If only Molly had been a couple of years younger! She had been in her Seventh Year when he entered Hogwarts for the first time, no time to try and entice him into her arms. Now, had she been a Fourth Year, or even Fifth...
Like everyone else in the country she had rejoiced in the downfall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and grieved at the loss of the young Potters. But underneath that she had sensed an opportunity to achieve her wildest ambitions. If she could get Harry to see her as a mother figure, then he would be more than willing to help her out 'in her old age'. It was so fortunate that the Headmaster was quietly searching for a suitable future match for the infant Potter. Molly had stepped forwards almost right away, offering her newly born daughter Ginerva.
Then when young Harry had started at Hogwarts, Ron had played his role perfectly, in spite of not knowing it. He befriended young Harry, and through him the rest of the family. Molly had been all set for Harry to properly met Ginny the next year...
The appearance of miss Granger however had thrown everything into doubt. While she only met her briefly before the second year, even then Molly could see the connection between her and Harry. Realising the danger, she'd started planning. Her future would be secured.
But now... it was all ashes. And the look in her husbands' eyes told her that he would not be offering support, not for this.
Well, she wouldn't give in either.
"Daddy?" Ginny's voice drew both adults attention to where she stood in the kitchen doorway. She was trembling, but pressed on. "They're in here."
"Don't you dare…!" Molly begun.
"Molly!" Arthur snapped, cutting her off. After glaring at her for a moment, he turned back to his daughter. "You know where they are?"
Ginny nodded, before stepping over to the counter. Drawing her wand, she spoke the password... and as before the compartment opened up. She stepped back, tears running down her cheeks as Arthur and Bill approached. Both looked inside, countenances hardening as they did. Arthur slipped an arm around Ginny who willing burrowed into his side.
"Bill... destroy the lot."
As their eldest nodded grimly, Arthur turned to regard his wife coldly. Molly felt her knees shaking, so harsh was his look. With one armed still wrapped around their daughter, he held out his other hand. "The second part, Molly... your wand."
She had started, staring at him. He was seriously asking her to give up her wand? Denying her use of magic? What was he thinking?
Arthur's stern gaze had not wavered, his expression as solid as if carved from stone. In his eyes, she could tell he was perfectly serious... and unyielding.
Slowly, reluctantly, she had passed over her wand.
It was as she was making dinner that she realised something: life without magic for a witch was a fate worse than death.
They were delayed eating by almost two hours. She nearly had to restart twice, and nothing came out right. She was so used to using magic to ensure that things came out perfect. The meat was under-cooked, the potatoes burnt and the vegetables were soggy. The rest of the family picked out the edible bits with grimaces... except Ronald. He devoured his entire plateful... then asked for more! When she told him there was no more he seemed incapable of understanding. Fortunately, Ginny had pushed across her practically untouched meal. After he ate that, he took both the twins as well.
When he finished both of theirs, he had sat back... and belched. Loudly. "Aaahh. So, where's dessert?"
Molly had been stunned speechless, though her face was incandescent with rage. Arthur, nearly as angry and certainly as disgusted, had ordered their youngest to his room. Ron had protested, before finally submitting, moaning and mumbling all the way.
Now she was washing the dishes used... by hand. Arthur was sitting at the table behind her, nursing a cup of tea. He'd been stony with her all evening.
"Why Molly? Why did you do it?" He suddenly asked almost gently.
Molly paused, his quietly asked question tugging at her conscious. She found herself answering him honestly.
"For the future Arthur." Feeling his eyes bore into the back of her head, Molly started washing again slowly, while talking.
"We were never going to amount to much Arthur, even you can see that. Our children... If I had not done what I did, then none of them would have been able to go to Hogwarts. We would have been forced to send them through Brighton Magical." Although Hogwarts was 'The' magical school of Great Britain, it was not the only school. There were half dozen other, smaller schools scattered around the British Isles. These schools were run and funded by the Ministry, and thus were free admission to all students. However, what they did not tell the parents of muggleborns – the ones who were the majority attendees – was the fact that these 'Public' schools were far inferior to Hogwarts. While Hogwarts had it's nearly three hundred boarders across seven years and four Houses, the Public schools each had about fifty students per year, all sharing the same classes instead of Hogwarts approximately twenty per class. And the classes were of a much lower grade than Hogwarts. None of the teachers had Masteries in any subject, and the schools only taught the core subjects – Charms, Transfiguration, Defence, History and Potions. The other subjects, electives at Hogwarts, were only touched on briefly, as subjects for further study in the students' own time. Lastly, the Public schools only taught up to OWL level: only Hogwarts took students all the way to NEWT.
Behind her Arthur sighed once more. "If you had not pressed so hard for a daughter… We could have funded Bill, Charlie, maybe Percy…" He looked up at her back sharply. "…But you had to have a daughter. Would you have stopped having children if our first-born had been a girl?"
Molly stilled, but remained silent. Not even she knew the answer to that one.
"Molly… I'm proud of what our eldest children have achieved. Bill would never have been recruited into Gringotts if he hadn't gone through Hogwarts. But I am ashamed of the way we did it." Molly turned to face him, hope and worry creating a confusing mix on her face.
"You lied to me, Molly. What you have done has placed a black mark… several black marks on our families' honour." Arthur's face was stern. "You moan about the lack of money? At least we had our honour. Without Honour, we'd be just like the Malfoy's."
Molly shuddered. He knew how much she hated that family. Lucius was a blight on everything he involved himself in. It was an opinion that her husband shared.
"Worst of all Molly, you manipulated an innocent young man, whispering meaningless platitudes in his ear while robbing him blind. You poisoned him, his best friend and two of our own children, all to make some gold!"
Molly's temper flared up. "That's not at all…"
"Quiet!" Arthur yelled standing upright, shocking Molly into silence. Out in the living room Ginny, Bill and the twins watched and listened, awed at their fathers assertiveness. "I am not finished yet Molly. I do not…"
He froze suddenly, head twitching. He leaned to one side slightly… before his eyes widened in alarm. "Get down!"
Molly dropped to the floor… just before the window behind her shattered with an almighty crash. Glass scythed through the space she had just been in. Arthur was already on the move, wand drawn as he reached the front door. He yanked the upper half open, leaned out… and recoiled sharply just before a sinister green spell shot past him to slam into one of the sofas, blasting a hole in the cushion and sending green tendrils running along the surface.
He looked to his family, eyes wide. "Death Eaters." It was all they needed to hear.
Ginny almost sprinted forwards, drawing her wand as she did. Stopping on the other side of the door from her father, she leaned out before snapping off a hex. Harry's training paid off, as her Reducto struck the ground just before one of the masked men's feet, showering him with dirt. She snapped off another hex, but this one sailed over another Death Eater's shoulder to dissipate in the air. However, following it's track allow Ginny to spot another, graver threat.
"They've got Dementors with them!"
Behind her Molly shrieked in out right panic, her worst nightmare flashing before her eyes. Arthur looked back into the room. "Bill, the floo…" He began.
"Sorry father. Already tried." Bill said shaking his head. "The connections dead."
Already the air was becoming chilled as the Dementors closed in, their rapid breathing forming mist.
"Don't worry dad." One twin spoke.
"We'll deal with them." The other continued.
"You deal with those scum."
"BOYS!" Molly rounded on the pair, fists on her hips. "That kind of language is…"
"…Totally appropriate." Arthur finished, cutting her off. While his wife looked at him in shock, he met his son's eyes. "Keep them away."
"No worries dad."
"We've got it covered."
"We'll even get Ronikin's in on the fight."
"If he even remembers how to…" Their voices were lost as they thundered up the stairs.
"Arthur…" Molly began.
"Save it Molly." He cut her off again before holding out her wand. "Instead of berating our children, how about you help them defend our home!"
On arrival on the other side of Ottery St Catchpole, Auror Hestia Jones could hear spell fire close by. There was also a chill in the air… and she could see some plants that had already been killed by cold.
"Crap! They've got Dementors with them! Baker, Stockwell, patronus duty!" Though only a mildly experience Auror, Hestia was still the most experienced member in her group, thus was in charge. Quickly the seven blue robed Auror's hurried through the trees towards the Lovegood's home… ominously, the same direction that the spell fire was coming from. And which was worryingly dying off.
Stepping into the clearing where the Lovegoods had made their home, Hestia looked about quickly. The Rookery itself was battered around the door, chunks blown of the walls and up one side, causing the whole building to noticeably lean that way. There was a Death Eater sitting on the ground outside, wand pointed towards their thigh, while a half dozen dementors circled the top floor, swooping close to one shattered window but recoiling back each time. A white light from within hinted that a Patronus was there, but it was fading. Some spell fire came from within.
The auror's stared for a moment, startled and shocked, but then movement caught Hestia's attention. One of the dementors had noticed their arrival.
"Expecto Patroum!" she cried snapping her wand up. While no animal image formed, the broad, whitish dish that formed between then and the on-coming dementor pushed it back, and snapped the others out of their daze. Quickly two white comets rocketed up through the shield and started chasing the dementor away. Two red stunners, closely followed by a third, shot across towards the wounded Death Eater, who was only just looking over his shoulder. The first and third missed, but the second caught the man in the shoulder. His upper body fell back to land on the ground, his wand falling from a slack grasp.
"Secure him!" Hestia snapped as she started forward. The stunned Death Eater was bond and stunned again for good measure. While the two on Patronus duty remained outside the door, the other five entered the building.
The ground floor was a mess of broken furniture, as was the first floor. It was on the second they found the other Death Eaters. They were taking cover behind the remains of various desks and tables, hurling spells at the doorway that led to the last flight of stairs. Most were sporting minor injuries. Spells came back at them intermittently.
"Aurors! Drop your wands!" Auror Mason yelled as he entered the room directly behind Hestia. Without thinking she threw herself to one side… jut before a volley of curses came whizzing through the space she'd been in. At least one had been the lethal green of the Killing Curse. Mason was dead before he hit the floor. The others' following them had frozen.
'Idiotic fool' Hestia thought pityingly at the gruesome sight. Ever since the Department of Mysteries she'd been reconsidering her actions and role in the coming war. While not directly involved in the events that had happened in June, she had talked with the other Aurors who had; Tonks, Kingsley and even Moody. During the course of which, she had noticed something. Moody had emerged unscratched, while the much younger, and whole, Tonks had been trounced. Tonks had stayed within defined Auror spell casting: stunners, disarmers and binding curses. Moody however, had gone straight into using potentially lethal curses: blasting, cutting, bone-breakers and the like. The Death Eaters had been throwing around the same and worse.
It had led to a personal decision for Hestia. They had to step up their game, and really hurt these monsters, if they were to win. Just stunning them was no good. Seeing the remains of Mason lying there just reinforced her decision.
Leaning out from her place behind an overturned bookcase, she snapped off a bone-breaker. Her training held true as she caught one in the thigh. The Death Eater screamed in agony as he pitched to the floor.
Two others started to move round the furniture they had been hiding behind, but a spell shot out from the far stairwell and caught one in the side. That figure slumped down, out cold.
"Drat. Let's get out of here!" One of the masked Death Eaters yelled before they all disappeared rapidly, vanishing in the swirls of colour that denoted portkeys.
"Damnit!" Hestia cursed. After a moment however she sighed. "Still, got one." She muttered before easing to her feet. "Xenophillus Lovegood?" She called out across the battle torn space.
"Help… Luna…" Came the faint reply.
Hurrying across, the Aurors found the editor and printer of The Quibbler laying on the steps, looking very much worse for wear. Numerous cuts criss-crossed his body, and there was blood on the steps beneath him. One leg was certainly shattered, while his eyes were pain filled.
"Tend to him." Hestia snapped before moving rapidly up the stairs, towards, she realised, where the Patronus had been. But who...
Stepping up into the top room, Hestia was shocked into inaction for a moment. The room was decorated like any young witches bedroom, though the effect was marred by the Dementor that was climbing in through the window. Slumped by the bed on the floor, little Luna Lovegood was shakily pointing her wand at the oncoming creature. "Ex… Expec…" She was mumbling, clearly feeling the effects of prolonged exposure to the effects of Dementors and magical exhaustion.
All of a sudden it was clear. It had been Miss Lovegood who had been holding off the Dementors, not her father.
Snapping up her wand, Hestia cast the patronus charm once more, forming a wide area shield before the Dementor. The foul creature froze, before franticly trying to climb backwards out the window. Hestia stepped forwards slowly, forcing the thing out. Then she heard Miss Lovegood cast once more… and a silvery hare leapt past her, startling her so much she nearly lost control of her own spell. The hare raced up to the now fully panicking dementor, before it spun on the spot and delivered a kick with both back feet to the creatures face. The Dementor howled, flying backwards out of the house. The hare remained on the windowsill, but beyond the already fading corporeal patronus Hestia saw a couple of silvery comets streak up, chasing the foul thing away.
Feeling the area effects of the Dementors fade, Hestia lowered her wand before turning towards Luna. The young girl was barely conscious, skin pale and clammy. Still, she was unmarked otherwise when Hestia crouched down to examine her.
"Here, rest for bit. You've pushed yourself almost too far."
Miss Lovegood smiled at her slightly. "No choice… not really." She answered in a faint voice.
Hestia smiled as she patted the girls' hand. "How on earth did you learn to summon a corporeal patronus though?"
A genuine smile formed on the girls lips. "Harry. He taught it to all of us."
"Harry, as in, Harry Potter?"
Luna nodded. "He learned it in his third year. The effects of Dementors on him are much worse than for others."
Clumping footsteps heralded the arrival of another of her team. When they arrived a look at the scene kept him quiet, but the expression on his face… Hestia sighed. This was going to be bad. Passing a spare bar of chocolate she'd kept in her pocket to Luna, Hestia stepped over to the other auror. "What is it?"
"They got away clean. No way to trace. Might get something from the one outside, but…" He sighed wearily. "Mister Lovegood's had it. He's… we can't help him here."
"Then why haven't you sent him to St Mungos?"
"They set up some Anti-app and port wards Auror Jones. Their portkeys work fine through it, but ours don't. By the time we get him past the ward line wherever it is…" He shook his head slowly.
Hestia swore under her breath. After a moment she straightened and stepped back to the young girl, who was just finishing off the chocolate bar.
"Miss Lovegood? We have to leave now. The building has taken damage, and another attack might be coming…"
Luna looked up at her, seemed to gaze through her for a long moment, and then nodded. "Will we be coming back?"
"I don't know…" Hestia hesitated. "Miss, your fathers badly hurt. We'll…" her throat clamped shut on the lie she had been about to tell the young girl.
Luna's eyes widened, as if she could tell just what Hestia didn't want to say. "No… not him too!" Suddenly she shot past both Hestia and the other Auror, her feet clattering on the stairs. Sighing with regret, Hestia followed more sedately.
She caught up with her at her father's side. Luna was hugging him around the neck, crying into his shoulder. Xenophilius was sat propped up against the wall just to the side of the stairs, his skin grey. But there was just enough life in him still to allow him to raise one hand and rub his daughters back. "Don't cry Luna… Don't cry…"
"But daddy… you're going away!" Luna sobbed. "Just like mother!"
"I know sweetpea… But when… I reach her, we'll wait… for you to join us. Both of us. But… not yet."
"I don't want you to go!"
"I know… But I'm too far gone already."
"Please stay!"
"No… Choice in that." Xenophilus was struggling to draw breath now, but he continued to try and reassure his daughter. "You… go to your friends. Let them… take care of you from now on." He lifted his blurry eyes to Hestia, stood just beyond Luna watching with a tear in her eye. "You will make… sure that she's safe?"
Hestia nodded, not trusting her voice. Xeno returned his attention to Luna.
"Go Luna dear, don't look back. I'm going to see mum… you need to go… stay with your friends. Don't let this mo… moment dominate your life. Live it, Luna. Promise me!"
Luna forced back a sob. "I promise."
A smile tried to form on his face. "That's my girl. Now… go. Go to Harry and Hermione. You'll be safe with them… Go on…"
Luna, slowly and reluctantly, released her hold of her father before sitting back. She took one last look at him before standing up. She stepped towards the other flight of stairs… then paused. Her head turned slightly…
"Don't look back." Xeno coughed out, a thin trinkle of blood running over his chin. "Go and live…"
After several seconds, Luna took the next step, and then the next. Slowly she made her way down the stairs. Hestia waited until she was out of sight before crouching down by Mister Lovegood. "Sir… I…"
"Don't worry." Xeno said softly. "I'm joining my beloved wife, after so long…" He coughed, choking for a moment. "Make sure she gets to Harry Potter… he'll look out for her…"
Hestia nodded. "I promise."
A true smile formed on his face as his eyes lost their focus. "Good. That's… all that matters…" His voice died off, his body stilling. After a second his head lolled back, eyes sightlessly looking forwards.
With a heavy heart, Hestia reached out and closed his eyelids. He'd stood against the Death Eaters, holding out eight to one against long enough for the Aurors to arrive and rescue his daughter. She had to respect the eccentric man for that.
After a moment she followed Miss Lovegood down the stairs. She found her sitting on the bottom step, hunched over. Fighting back tears, Hestia sat down besides her.
"He's gone… isn't he?" The words were so quiet she almost missed them. Hestia had to draw in a deep breath.
"Yes. He's gone. I stayed till… till the end."
A sob escaped the curled up waif, and slowly she seemed to fall onto her side. Hestia guided the child to lean across her lap, where Luna cried for her father. Tears ran down Hestia's cheeks for the orphan, and for all those who had yet to die for this war…
Major Bearson Greengrass scowled as he stepped over the fallen front door of 'Greengrass Manor'. Manor indeed! This hovel was not fitting to even bear the word 'house', let alone be associated with his glorious name! And the Muggles nearby… it made his skin crawl. While they had their uses – muggles had certainly come up with many interesting and effective means of killing one another – Bearson had never liked mixing with the swine. Their lack of magic clearly made them inferior to even the weakest of wizards.
Striding forwards he made sure to keep his pace measured, heavy. The sound of his footsteps should be driving his brother's family the depths of terror.
Though there was far more terror for them to experience, oh yes.
His advance guard had struck just as the sun had set. They had already reconnoitred the area earlier that day, and had placed their portable ward stones just outside the Greengrass homes ward lines. The combined 'notice-me-not' and muggle repelling wards kept any actions within unnoticed, while the anti-apparition and Portkey lines ensure there was no escape. He had been assured the Floo connection was cut, and that the Ministry was busy elsewhere.
Stepping into the living room he glanced at the front wall. It had previously had a large bank of bay windows looking out over the front lawn. An excellent defensive position, had the occupants realised it. Not any more. The first warning of the attack had been the pair of RPG's he'd had his men launch at the ends of the windows. The combined blast had been… impressive. Most of that wall was now gone, and the living space was in ruins.
After that attack his men had advanced, firing bursts from their guns to keep the defenders down while they rushed the building. Some spell fire had shot back, but his elite men had not faltered and continued to push onwards, even when one had been caught in the thigh with a curse that managed to breach the shield he'd cast. From the wound it appeared to have been a Reducto or blasting curse. The shield had reduced the power of the curse though, fortunately for his man.
The attack had been swift. A mixture of curses and bullets had savaged the front of the old building, before a pair of blasting curses had torn the front door free of its hinges. After a grenade had been tossed in, the storm troopers had done what they did best; storm the building. Only a minute or two later, one had emerged and given the all clear.
Now Bearson walked into the kitchen, eyes guarded but wary. The last time he'd tangled with his brother and nephew, he'd lost both his arm and his wife. The pair were deadly fighters, or at least had been. The years of living in this decedent country had hopefully made them soft…
Looking around, his eyes narrowed on his nephew. Erikson was held against the wall by two of his men, blood weeping from several gashes on his face, while one leg looked unable to support his weight. Another two of his men were stood off to one side, both spotting minor injuries but still able to fight. Crashing noises from above suggested that the other two troopers were searching upstairs with typical brutal fashion, while the last stood just behind his remaining elbow.
There was no sign of the rest of his brother's family.
"Where are the others?" He asked in German, his head turned slightly to his side.
"Unknown Major. We were under fire from at least three wands as we approached, but it slacked off after we hit the door." The trooper reported emotionlessly. "We subdued this man, but so far none of the other targets have been found."
Bearson turned back to regard his nephew, eyes gleaming coldly even as the younger man looked back defiantly. "Where are your daughters, your father?" He asked slowly in English.
Erikson barked a short, pain filled laugh. "Somewhere where you'll never find them traitor."
"You're the traitor here." Bearson stepped forwards suddenly, his hand resting on his wand. "You allow our noble house to become polluted with the blood of animals, those… muggles." He breathed deeply for a moment. "No matter, once I have your daughters, I'll ensure our family is restored to its rightful place."
"Go to hell uncle! You'll never get your hands on the family title!"
"Oh but I will. I've seen the lay of the land here in this country. There is no chance for your daughters to save the line."
"Are you sure?" Erikson smirked.
Bearson stilled, eyes narrowing. "What have you done nephew?"
"Me? Nothing. It was my daughter who found a young man willing to let her maintain control. The contract has already been submitted and approved. You can't stop it now. You'll never find them…"
"Oh… watch me." Bearson drawled as he drew his wand. "Legilimens!" He snapped as he levelled the wand at his nephew's forehead.
Normally, Erikson Greengrass had what would be referred to as 'decent' mental shields, enough to deter most attackers. However, at this point in time he was wounded, battered and had to watch as his hated uncles men had torn into his home. Mental, physical and emotional exhaustion sapped at his strength, while Bearson levered all his skill into breaking through. Bearson was not a particularly strong wizard magically, but he had learned many tricks and ways to maximise what power he did have. The shield preventing him entry into his nephew's thoughts strained, cracked, then shattered, allowing a maelstrom of thoughts and memories to cascade out. With the skill of an experienced interrogator, Bearson quickly shifted through the dross, looking for what he wanted.
A flash of his brother in the kitchen with his nephew, the view suddenly washed out as the RPG's had exploded. The multiple voices calling out curses at the shadowy figures advancing… and then he found it. His nephew stood aside as his eldest daughter helped her grandfather down an entrance in the floor, tears running down her checks. His brother had a blood stained arm, pain creasing his face. The twin little girls followed, as the second oldest hugged her father. Erikson's wife stepped forwards, gently shooing their daughter towards the trapdoor before taking her place, kissing her husband desperately, crying all the while. They spoke softly – he didn't bother to listen to the meaningless platitudes – before she too climbed down the hole. With a shaky wand Erikson had sealed the trapdoor before moving the kitchen rug and table back to cover it…
Pulling out of his nephew's mind, Bearson watched as Erikson gasped and sagged in his men's grip. Then he turned, looking at the heavy wooden table in the centre of the room. With a snarl his wand came up and a blasting hex broke the table in two, the halves falling away to each side. Another pair of hexes tore open the floor, revealing the yawing black hole of the tunnel the rest of the family had escaped down.
"After them." He growled, and the other two troopers saluted before dropping down one after the other.
"You're too late uncle." Erikson gasped from behind him. "By now they'll have escaped to safety."
Bearson turned to look at his nephew. "You knew staying would mean a death sentence for you." He mused aloud. "Why?"
Erikson stopped laughing and stood a little straighter, eyes fixed firmly on his uncle. "I love my family. I would die for them."
"And so you shall."
The kitchen was brilliantly lit again and again by the muzzle flashes as Bearson fired again and again. The first bullet would have been enough to kill Erikson in minutes: the other eight were just overkill, the last boring through his right temple.
Bearson breathed raggedly as he slowly lowered his gun, eyes fixed on the body before him. Hearing his men reassemble behind him, he slowly holstered it.
"Anything?"
"No sir. The tunnel leads out well beyond the wards. The trail just disappears. They must have portkeyed away."
"Nothing upstairs to report either."
Bearson nodded slowly, scowling. "This is just a set back. We're done here." He turned to exit the building. "Burn it. All of it."
A round of nods followed his order as he stepped back outside. Two followed to collect their wards stones, while the rest cast incendiary curses. Within minutes the entire ground floor of Greengrass Manor was aflame, and the nine Magi-SS had gone, leaving death in their wake.
Neville breathed deeply as he watched the last dementor fly off, finally lowering his new wand. The foul things had descended on Longbottom Manor as the sun had set, plunging the area into darkness early and chilling the air. Both he and Hannah had drawn on the DA training they had had to cast them back. It was as the creatures fell back from the unexpected resistance that he'd noticed the black clad figures advancing over the grounds towards the main house. It had been pure chance that he and Hannah had visited his greenhouse; had they remained inside, they would never have been in position to see the oncoming attack.
Before either of them could even try to warn her however, his gran must have tripped the Manors defences, as pale obelisks had erupted from the ground around the manor, the runes carved into their flanks glowing with power. The wards had thickened, becoming a misty dome that covered the manor. Several dementors had been cut off inside the dome, and had made for him and Hannah. The two of them had used their patronuses to hold them off, but Neville had realised that they could not hold out for long.
Under cover of their patroni, the two teens had fallen back to the manor house itself. The path they followed went between two of the smooth, rounded obelisks – ancient menhirs that the Longbottoms ancestors had carved long before the Romans came to England – which crackled and hummed threateningly. Hannah had slowed, terrified at the raw, wild magic that emanated from the ancient stones, but Neville had wrapped his arms around her and almost carried her forwards. The obelisks, created with long forgotten magic, recognised him as an heir to the Longbottom line... and recognised her as a friend, her magical signature known to the wards already. They passed between the stones without pause or harm.
A dementor that tried to follow them, intending to snatch Hannah out of Neville's grasp, was not so fortunate. The obelisks had pulsed, and a bright wave had slammed out to send it reeling back.
The pair of them had just reached the patio area when the dome had cracked, the work of a ward breaker. Beyond the obelisks and the hedges, they could see the Death Eaters stride through a breach in the wards just before the whole dome collapsed. Steeling themselves, the young couple had prepared to fight.
It was an excellent display of how a small group could hold off a much larger force with the use of defensive terrain. The obelisks had repulsed the dementors again and again until they started flying high up and over them. The Death Eaters, although not thrown reeling by the pulses emanating from the stones, had been unable to make any headway against them, leaving them horribly exposed. Neville had proven his DA training by nailing three in a row with long-range spell fire. While he and Hannah had to divert their attention to the returning dementors, his gran had continued to hammer the other wizards.
Neville saw a new side of his formidable grandmother that evening. Faced with those who were allied with the ones who tortured her son, Augusta Longbottom went cold, before unleashing her full fury and pain on them. Despite her advanced years, she could still wield her magic as well as she used her tongue in the Wizengamont. Her emotions came out in her choice of spells: bone-breakers and cutting hexes. Several times she also unleashes verbal curses on them; the first time Neville looked at his normally strictly courteous grandmother with some alarm.
It didn't go all the Longbottoms way. Quickly the Death Eaters worked out the source of their troubles, and began unleashing blasting curses on the obelisks. While they were magically reinforced, there was only so much each obelisk could take. Bit by bit they were broken apart, the rock shards flying about as the blasting spells bit deep. Soon they had knocked out enough for the Death Eaters to advance.
In years past, it would have been a lot harder for an attacking force to breech the manors defences this way. At one time there had been two complete rings of standing stones, each one of which was engraved with numerous runes. But over the centuries since the runes had faded, and many of the stones had been removed to make way for the expansion of the manor.
As spell fire came in to land around them, all three of the defenders began to take harm. Shards of flying rock lacerated exposed skin, while the dementors chilling and happiness draining effects sapped their strength and resolve.
But, at last, the Aurors had arrived behind the Death Eaters, and the masked men had withdrawn... many of them wounded in some form. The dementors, now facing fresh and concentrated resistance, had fled into the night sky.
Feeling the adrenaline fade away, he turned to look at his recently betrothed. Hannah was starting to shake, wand held loosely in her hand. Wordlessly he stepped over and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to him. She tucked her head into the crook of his neck, and he felt the tears started to fall. Gently rubbing her back he slowly sat down on one of the few remaining seats there, guiding Hannah to sit across his lap.
Augusta allowed herself a small smile and a nod of respect and admiration. Her grandson had worried her for a long time, but he was definitely growing into a fine young man. Young Miss Abbot was a fine young woman, clearly lacking his experience with conflict, but she'd stayed in with them throughout. She would be a fine addition to the family.
Hearing approaching footsteps, she steeled her expression to its most severe, forcing down the pain she felt from her own minor injuries. Stepped along the path she met the approaching Aurors with a stern look and arms crossed.
"Well... what took you so long?"
Chocolate brown eyes snapped open, eyes focusing on the ceiling within a second. Slowly Daniel Granger sat upright, looking about his brother's spare room. Nothing was amiss, nothing disturbed. The house was quiet.
Yet something was wrong. Very wrong.
Daniel slowly slipped out of the bed, his nerves on edge. Carol had never understood why he'd not advanced in rank, but his superiors had. One of Captain Grangers strengths was his instincts, his 'gut feelings'. He was an excellent battlefield officer… but that strength did not carry over into situations outside of the battlefield. He was not too proud to admit that he was terrible with paperwork. The brass, in a rare moment of sense and clarity, had also agreed that promoting him, and taking him out of the field, would be a waste of his potential. Put simply, his niche was in battle, not in the headquarters or behind the lines.
But combat was a young man's game, and so he'd retired, with full honours and excellent pension.
However, after twenty years honing, those instincts were top notch, and hardly ever wrong.
And right now, they were screaming that something was terribly wrong.
Stepping silently to the door, he eased it open, to peer down both 'arms' of the upstairs landing, looking for a source for his disquiet. Nothing seemed amiss. There was still a light on downstairs, likely the kitchen…
Then a sound came from below… one that he had heard too many times.
A man screaming in pain.
It sent shivers running down his spine, but before he could lift a foot to head downstairs, the scream died off.
"I will not ask you again, muggle." A cold, aristocratic voice sneered cruelly. "Where is your precious mudblood daughter?"
"Fuck you."
Daniel stilled, eyes narrowing to brown slits. While the second voice was pain filled, he recognised his brother. Someone had broken into his brother's house, after his daughter Hermione, and was torturing his brother to find her. He didn't know what 'Mud-blood' meant, but he was sure it was not a compliment.
"Crucio!" The first voice called out, and the screaming started again… only this time Daniel realised it was his brother.
"Stop it, Stop it!" He heard Emma yell. "She's out! We already told you!"
The screaming stopped. "Patience, muggle bitch." The unknown man said his tone full of menace. "You'll get your own chance to scream. Goyle, Brent, check upstairs. Find her!"
Daniel breathed deeply before stepping back, focusing. Pushing all other thoughts aside, he quickly dropped down by one of his duffle bags. In moments he had extracted a slim case from the end compartment. Standing upright, he unzipped the semi-rigid case before flipping it open.
Not many former officers did it, but the 2nd Parachute regiment allowed former officers to keep their service pistols when they retired. It was in response to an incident a few years ago, when a small group of the 'Real IRA' had tracked down a retired officer at his home… and had murdered him and his family. Sinn Fein had, of course, decried the atrocity, repeatedly stating that it was rogue group, no longer a part of the IRA. No one in the MOD had believed them, but they could not act openly. But, a slight reinterpretation of the laws was allowed. Along with filling out the appropriate paperwork, of course.
The Army took care of its own.
Hearing footsteps on the stairs, Daniel quickly dropped the case on the bed before lifting out the Browning Hi-Power, sliding the first of his three thirteen-round magazines in with practiced efficiency and speed. Tucking it into the back of his sweat pants, Daniel took a grip of the other three items in the case. Dropping the other two clips into the pockets, he stepped back to the door and peered out at the stairs.
The first of the two men had stepped onto the landing, the other just behind him. Daniel frowned slightly at the sight of the long, dark robes they wore: just who were these people? And more to the point, what did they want with Hermione? Whoever they were, they were certainly here for no good. The two moved to the master bedroom and Hermione's first, both just looking into each before moving on. Silently Daniel melted back into the shadows, listening to their footsteps and voices.
"Darn, the little bitch isn't here."
"You heard Malfoy. We have to check."
"Yeah yeah. Bet he just wanted time alone with the mother."
"Nah, he wouldn't spoil himself with a filthy muggle. Besides, what about the others?"
"Suppose. Okay, you check that last room."
Daniel tensed slightly slowing his breathing. His fingers tightened their grip…
One of the black robed men stepped through the doorway, stepping just inside the spare room. He appeared to be looking about. "Nothing here." He called, even as Daniel slipped forwards.
"Okay, let's go tell Lucius the bad news."
The man grunted, but not in reply, as Daniel's left arm curled round his neck in a flash. Using the strength of his upper body Daniel pulled back on the figure, yanking the chin up and pressing his forearm into the man's throat and larynx, preventing him from calling out. Daniel was surprised at the silvery skull mask the man wore, but dismissed it as unimportant as his right hand came up with lethal intent. Six inches of cold forged, sharpened steel plunged into the Death Eater's back, sliding between two ribs to pierce his foul heart. He struggled against the tight grip that held him, jerking as the knife struck, but Daniel Grangers hold was far more than a match for the wizard. In less than a minute the body went limp, the hands falling away from his left arm where they had been trying to pry it away from around his throat. Daniel laid the man face down before stepping out of the room, leaving his knife behind. There would be time to get it later, and he doubted he'd get a chance to use it again.
The other man was taller and broader than he, but was already part way down the stairs. Daniel saw an opportunity and took it, walking down behind him, gaining as they neared the bottom. Just as the Death Eater stepped onto the ground floor Daniel struck, his hands wrapping round the other man's beefy neck. The man grunted, but was unable to call out. Hands scrabbled at his, trying to loosen the grip, but Daniel was taking no chances. Leaning in, he got his arms into position, before giving his shoulders a mighty twist. The combination of his toned muscles and technique produced the required effect, as the Death Eaters head twisted sharply through ninety degrees as his neck snapped with a sickening crack. Guiding the body down into the shadows, Daniel eased around the bottom of the stairs and slunk along the other side of the hall, drawing his gun along the way to the kitchen.
The house his brother had bought had been built in the late fifties, but had undergone several re-modelling phases since then. In the original floor plan, the large living and dinning rooms took up one half of the ground floor, with the stairs on the other outside wall and the kitchen tucked into the remaining corner. Now, the end of the hall and a corner of the dining area had been turned into more kitchen space, with walls and doors removed for a more open plan. The house had also been extended both out the back and the stair side. The kitchen had grown a little outwards, while the removed walls created a flattened triangle area. Reaching the end of the wall, Daniel peered round the modestly lit space.
Standing almost at the point of the triangle, barely two feet from him, another robed figure stood with his back to him. Across the kitchen he could see Emma standing to the side of the fridge/freezer, restrained by another two men. Tear tracks ran down her cheeks, one of which had a livid bruise forming. She looked scared half to death. Two more were on the far side of the kitchen, leaning on the worktop that ran around the two walls there… and with a clear view of him and the hall. Fortunately, both were focused on what was happening in the centre of the kitchen, the table that normally stood there resting on its side between him and them. Chunks of china and glass on the floor near him suggested that at least one plate and a couple of glasses had still been on it when the table had been thrown aside… somehow.
Lying in the centre of the room however was his brother Nathan. Several nasty cuts marred his body and his face looked beaten, but more worrying was the way he was twitching. That and the expression of absolute agony on his battered face. Ice-cold anger poured through Daniel's soul. Who ever beat on his little brother was going to pay!
In the far corner, just before the door that led into the conservatory that had been added to back of the house were another two men. While the one was dressed like the others, the other had either removed or not worn the hood and mask that the others did. The face revealed was cold and cruel in an aristocratic way, a face more suited to sneering disdainfully at everything and everyone. He doubted that this man ever smiled from joy. Platinum blond hair hung down his back.
"It seems you're daughter is not home after all." Blondie spoke, his voice the one who had spoken earlier. 'The leader.' "Pity. I was so hoping to meet her once more… and teach her the error of her ways."
"You're the only one who needs that lesson!" Emma all but snarled. The man looked at her scathingly.
"You forget, Mrs Granger, who is in control here. Now… I grow tired of dealing with you filthy muggles. I was going to begin her lesson with your screams, but as she has proven to be most difficult, as always…" He lifted his hand to level a rod of wood at Nathan. "Avada…"
"Hey who are you!" Daniel snapped his attention back to the pair directly across from him. One had clearly glanced away, and had seen him! As other eyes jumped to look on his instincts took over.
In that moment, Captain Daniel Granger, retired, proved why one does not mess with the family of a soldier. They don't hold back in their response.
The Browning snapped up, the gun barking three times rapidly at the one looking at him. The first bullet caught him high in the chest, while the third was weakened by the mask he wore, deflecting the rounds path to end up buried in the wall behind him. However, the Death Eater's luck had run out as the second round hit him in the throat. Disgusting gargling sounds emerged as he drowned in his own blood. His companion beside him stood stunned for a moment, blood splashed all over his mask and robes, behind some sense of self preservation kicked in and he dived down behind the table even as the other man fell to his knees.
Not even paying attention to his first target, Daniel had swung the gun around, completing the arc to stop pointed at the back of the nearest mans head before he squeezed the trigger twice more. Dead before he had a chance to even react to his companions call, the body just slumped down before falling face first down.
Lucius Malfoy was stunned for a moment, before he yanked his wand up to point toward this sudden assailant. "Kedavra!" he yelled, completing the spell incantation he'd paused.
Daniel didn't know why the man was pointing a stick at him, but his training kicked in. If someone points something at you, get out of the line of fire! He twisted on his left foot, swinging his body back into the hall. Just in time, as a green bolt of lightning rushed past, to slam into the wall under the stairs, leaving a dark blast mark in the wallpaper. Whipping back around, Daniel fired off another pair of shots towards Lucius, before turning his attention towards his family.
Lucius, having seen the effects of this muggle device, saw the yawning black maw pointed at him and threw himself backwards. The action saved his life, as the bullets shot towards his face. One missed, to impact the wall by the other Death Eaters head, completely ignoring the shield he had raised. That Death Eater stumbled back, falling into the conservatory as he tripped over the raised door edge.
The other bullet caught Lucius on the cheek, carving a furrow across his face as the bullet pared the flesh to the bone before it took off the bottom of his right ear. Lucius screamed in agony as he fell back, the action just prompting more pain as the flesh in that area shifted.
Daniel flinched as two red bolts slammed into the wall end he was tucked behind, as the two holding Emma cast blasting curses at him. Through the dust though he could see the spells leave their wands, but he could not aim squarely without the chance of hitting his sister-in-law. Instead he put two shots off to each side, hoping to at last scare them.
The pair fired to the left of the three missed, shattering a mug and denting the toaster. But one of the other two caught the Death Eater in the thigh, and the man stumbled forward and around as the pain shot through his body.
This was the chance that Emma had been waiting for. While terrified half out of her mind, wracked with fear for herself and her husband, Emma Granger was made of the same stern stuff her daughter was. Swiftly she proved where Hermione had learned how to deal with amorous fools, as her knee crashed into the wounded man's groin powered with all the anger and fear she had. The man gasped, his voice climbing in pitch as he toppled to the floor, curling up into a foetal position, hands covering the region that had never taken such abuse. A sharp wrench get her other arm free, but before she could step away the other man swung round, his meaty left hand clasping around her neck. Desperate she scrabbled for something with her right hand, before her fingers touched the handles of the knives she kept in a block by the fridge. One found it's way into her hand, and with desperation she turned it around – uncaring on how she nicked herself with the blade – and drove it into his gut. The guy gasped in pain, hands falling away to his belly as he staggered back a pace… and promptly fell over his buddy who was still on the floor. Now free of their grasp, Emma threw herself at her husband.
Daniel only caught a glimpse of this, as the other man who had hidden behind the overturned table had joined the fray, casting a string of bolts at him. Daniel had been forced to roll to the other side of the hall as the remaining bit of wall where he had been was torn apart. Raising his gun, he sighted on the table. The guy was casting blind, only an arm poking out over the edge. Unsure as to his exact position, Daniel fired off the remaining four bullets in the clip in a line along the table, hoping that at least one would hit. Yelps of pains turned to screams.
Thumbing the release, Daniel slammed a new clip home and turned just in time to see Emma knife one of the bastards that had been holding her. Rising from his crouch, he looked towards the far corner, where the last two where…
Spells lancing back at him, a deep red one brushing his arm and slicing his flesh like a hot knife through warm butter. Gritting his teeth to hold in the pained gasp, Daniel returned fire, trading spells with bullets. He then paused, hoping…
The remaining masked man stood up, looking towards him to check he was down. Classic rookie fool mistake and Daniel made sure to use the man as an object demonstration, as he unloaded three rounds into his chest. The man staggered backwards, and even under the silvery mask Daniel knew there was a look of shock on his face before he fell back against the wall before sliding down limply.
Behind the counter he was cowering behind – not that he would ever admit to cowering – Lucius scowled deeply as he watched the last Death Eater slump down, gasping as it caused another stab of pain from his ruined face. This was not how this raid was supposed to go! They were supposed to find two helpless muggles and an under-aged, un-prepared witch, still weakened after her injuries in the Department of Mysteries. Not some gun wielding muggle psycho! He was killing them left and right. Already writing off those two he had sent upstairs, he reached for his portkey to head back to the safety of his manor. Then he spied the mudblood's parents across the room, the mother all but dragging the father out of the kitchen and into the dining area. Snarling in glee at the thought of at least killing them, he levelled his wand at Emma.
His snarl made her look up, to see that dreaded wand pointed at her.
"Avada Kedavra!" He yelled, sending the green bolt towards her. He intended to kill her first, and then finish off the father. Let the mudblood cry over the bodies of her parents!
As soon as he'd said that first dreaded word, Emma had panicked, her hands yanking at the doorway, trying to get herself out of the way. She failed, but her flailing fingers caught the edge of the freezer door, and it was flung open just as the spell left Malfoy's wand. The deadly green bolt hit the door dead centre, blasting a large black mark over it. The magical energy tore through the entire unit, burning out the electronics and circuits. The entire freezer went dead.
Lucius was stunned. How dare that muggle bitch block his spell! He was about to unleash another when a bullet skipped off the floor by his foot. Seeing the other man approaching weapon levelled, fear finally took control. "Retreat!" He yelled even as he squeezed the portkey. Lucius vanished in a swirl of colour, before the man behind the table did the same. Daniel turned just in time to see the two who had been holding Emma vanish as well, leaving the others were they lay.
Breathing deeply, Daniel slowly looked around, taking in the devastation that had been wrought. His brother's kitchen looked like it had come from a war torn Third-World country, with the three bodies, bullet holes in the walls, the entryway to the hall in ruins and blood everywhere. Still tense and coiled, he quickly checked the three bodies – making sure they were dead – before reloading once more. Then he allowed his concern for his brother rise up, and he almost sprinted into the dining room where Emma was kneeling on the floor, Nathan's head in her lap. Crouching down besides them, he gently reached for his brothers hand. "Nath?"
Nathan's eyes cracked open, but even with the lids almost closed he could see the pain that filled them. "Dan… you … you chase…"
"Don't talk honey." Emma soothed him, stroking his brow gently. "We're safe now."
"Emma… what is going on here?" Daniel asked levelly, but the anger and tension were there in his voice. "Who the fuck were those guys? And why do they want Hermione?"
Emma sighed before looking up at him. "Dan… it's, difficult…" Before either of them could say thing more a furious banging came from the front door.
"Mr and Mrs Granger? You there?" A youngish sounding woman called out loudly, her tone worried.
Daniel rose swiftly, gun already in hand. Before he could a step though Emma snagged his other hand. "Don't! I know her! She's a friend!" He looked at her blankly, before shrugging off her hand and moving swiftly towards the front door.
Outside Remus sniffed deeply before his face blanched. "Tonks… I smell blood."
"Oh bugger!" Tonks replied, her face going equally as white.
Suddenly the door was opened, and a handgun emerged levelled right at Tonk's forehead. She froze, eyes wide as the black maw of the gun was hovering barely a few scant inches from her. Remus followed the hand holding the gun up to the man behind it.
"Who the fuck are you two?" He growled, his tone clearly stating that he was not someone to mess around with.
"Friends of Mr and Mrs Granger. I'm Remus Lupin. I was one of Hermione's professors for a year." Remus answered slowly, warily watching this clearly toned man. He could smell blood on him, driving the werewolf within him wild with bloodlust.
Daniel frowned, the tension easing. "Professor Lupin? I heard of that name, a couple years back…"
Remus nodded. "Your… niece?" At his nod, Remus ploughed on. "Hermione was a joy to teach sir."
Daniel slowly relaxed, the gun lowering. "Emma claims to know you miss."
Tonk nodded shakily. "We came to make sure she and Mr Granger are okay… They're not, are they?"
Daniel sighed before stepping back, allowing them entry. Both hurried in… and were quickly pulled up short at the sight of the Death Eater body lying at the foot of the stairs, the head twisted at an unnatural angle.
"There's another upstairs, and three more in the kitchen." Daniel stated emotionlessly even as he closed the door. "Nath' and Em' are in the dining room."
Quickly Tonks hurried through, while Remus lingered, fighting down the werewolf's instincts. He had to keep control. Glancing at the man beside him, he noticed the cut across his arm. It had to hurt like a son-of-a-bitch, but he showed no sign of having noticed. "Uh, sir…"
"Call me Daniel. I retired from the army the other day."
Nodding, Remus filed that titbit away. "Okay, Daniel, I can heal that, if you want." He pointed towards the savage cut. Daniel took a moment to look at the gash, wincing slightly.
"Damn that's going to leave a mess…"
"Not necessarily…" Remus replied, drawing his wand.
A moment later he was thrown against the wall, the gun pressed against his temple. "You've both with them!" Daniel hissed, anger blazing in his eyes.
Remus swallowed nervously. While he could physically overpower the man before him thanks to his lycanthropy, there was no way to stop him pulling the trigger before he did so. The bullet wouldn't kill him, but it would really, really hurt, and leave one hell of mess. Plus, they were on the same side. "Sir… I can assure you that I would rather die than serve alongside those sick, twisted excuses for wizards. They are the worst of the worst, sick animals that need to be put down. I consider your niece a friend: they consider her nothing more than a toy to play with or an animal to use, abuse and kill as they please."
Daniel stilled, seeing the honesty in the care-worn mans eyes. Slowly he released him, watching him intently even as Remus lifted his wand and drew it along the gash in his arm, muttering something as he did. Daniel's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when the flesh of his arm sealed up in seconds, with no a trace of a scar to hint at the wound afterwards. He looked back to the other man, but Remus had already moved away, following Tonks. Daniel caught up with them by his brother.
"Cruciatus exposure." The pink haired young woman was saying. "We've got to get him to a proper healer quickly."
"St Mungo's won't treat him, since he's a muggle." Remus sighed as he reached down to scoop Nathan up. "I'll take him back to Potter Manor. Lily was training up to be one before she got pregnant, and knowing her, she continued studying even while hiding…"
The girl nodded, gently helping Emma to her feet. "I'll handle things here. You get him to safety."
"I'm going with him." Emma stated firmly, her tone not even allowing any dispute.
"Same with me. That's my little brother there." Daniel said equally as firmly. The fact his gun was still in one hand was a barely veiled threat.
Remus nodded, hardly expecting anything else. "I can only take one at a time. I'll be back as soon as I can." Then he closed his eyes, and turned on the spot, vanishing along with Nathan.
Daniel blinked, before slowly turning towards Emma, who was leaning on the doorframe. The young woman had stepped into the kitchen, and was looking about with horror at the mess within. Thumbing the safety catch on, Daniel laid the gun down on the table before folding his arms across his chest. "Emma…" he started slowly, allowing her to look at him. "…Just what the fuck is going on here? People vanishing into thin air? Stick's that spit coloured lightning? All centred around Hermione? You have some explaining to do…"
Katie Bell sighed as she walked back home. While it was nice to be back home after spending most of the year at Hogwarts, there were times when she preferred not be here. Her old school friend Annabel had grown up into quite the matchmaker. And her latest goal was to hitch Katie with one of her 'ideal' boyfriends. Thing was, while all of these 'you must meet him!' young men were certainly good-looking, they lacked character. Brainless jocks, as her American cousin would say.
Turning down onto her street, Katie sighed once more, this time in resignation. While it was nice to have a night out and have fun, getting home had always been an issue. She knew that she lived it up more during the summer months, as Hogwarts had no night life, apart from what they could get up to in their dorms. And with more innocent, younger ears close by, they had to reign themselves in more. No wonder she was known as a 'wild one' when she went out during the summer.
Thing was, she didn't have regular transport home. She didn't drive, and after one bad experience years ago her mother had never trusted cabs again. Katie knew her mother was unreasonable about them, but humoured her because she loved her. A friend had given her a lift to close by, and so she ended up walking the last half-mile.
It wasn't so bad, not really, Katie mused. It was a lovely summers evening. While the sun had just dipped over the horizon there was still plenty of light to see with. The streetlights were only just starting to flicker on, most glowing red as they warmed up. There were only a few clouds and…
She froze three doors down from her home, staring at the sky above her families' home. Nothing. But she could have sworn…
Perhaps she had had one too many, she thought, taking another cautious half step. Product of a mind buzzed with alcohol and filled with the stories from the magical world. Too much reading of the horrors from the last…
An image wavered in the air, and she stopped once more, sobering instantly as the blood drained from her face even as the image firmed up.
A ghostly green skull with a snake emerging from the mouth, hissing mavolently.
"No… NO!"
She started running, past the house next to hers before cutting onto her front lawn. There were three figures stood in robes by the front door… that was hanging open ominously.
Her heels clicking against the paving slabs drew the attention of the figures. "Hey miss, stop right there!" A man barked out, but Katie ignored him, didn't even register his voice. Her concern was totally fixated on the house, on her family...
One started to draw a wand, but before they could bring it up the tallest move forwards. Katie found herself being held back from the house by a thick arm across her waist. "Let me go!" She screamed, struggling, trying to escape the hold that the man held her in. "LET ME GO! Where are my parents? Let go of me!" Hysterically she thumped her fist against his chest, which felt like a tree trunk as tears began to run down her cheeks.
Kingsley Shackbolt didn't say anything. He couldn't. The words… he just couldn't find the right ones. How does one tell a child – even one almost an adult – that they are now an orphan? How does one explain to someone that their loved ones have been brutally tortured and murdered?
Feeling her stop struggling, he looked down at her. The young woman was looking back up at him, fear and horror writ across her tear streaked face. But her eyes… she knew already. Likely had known the second she saw the Dark Mark overhead, bathing everything in its sickly green light. But there was an edge of disbelief, a desire to deny what everything pointed towards…
Sadly, he had to dash that hope.
"Miss Bell? I'm Senior Auror Shackbolt. Your parents…" He trailed off.
"NO!" Katie screamed before almost collapsing against him, crying her eyes out. Kingsley sighed before wrapping an arm around her gently, casting about for the female Auror on the team. Normally he would have had Tonks take care of the distraught young woman, but his second had the day off, due to the reading of her cousins Will. Kingsley missed Sirius. His humour and dry wit had lightened things within the Order.
Looking back to the other two, he mouthed 'Find Delaney'. Banes nodded before stepping inside, while Morrison just snorted and put his wand away.
Kingsleys eyes were drawn upwards, to the mocking image of the Dark Mark. This should never have happened, he thought darkly. If Snape was as good a spy as he said he was, they should have known this was going to happen and they could have been lying in wait for the scum to arrive.
A deep sigh escaped his lips as Auror Delaney stepped out of the Bell's home. He'd joined the Order to engage the Death Eater while the Ministry denied the existence of the darkness in their world. But all they'd ended up doing was listen to Snape prattle, guarding the entrance to the Department of Mysteries… and guarding Harry's summer, muggle home. Due to his work, Kingsley often had the late or dawn shifts… but something about the residence, or rather the people within, made him uneasy. He couldn't put his finger on what, exactly, it was about the Dursleys, but something was off. Certainly his 'encounter' with the… man, left much to be desired. Mr Dursley was thoroughly obnoxious, rude and grating. Kingsley had been glad to see the back of him.
Yet his whole attitude towards them – based on their magical ability alone – had set alarm bells ringing within the Auror's mind. He would have investigated a bit, but his Auror duties had expanded and multiplied, now that the Ministry had finally admitted that the Dark Lord was back.
But what really had Kingsley worried he mused, as he passed the emotional train wreck that was Katie Bell to the much more comforting form of Auror Delaney, was that Dumbledore had not attended the Order meeting earlier today. McGonagall had delivered an apology from the headmaster stating that he was sorry to waste all their precious time. Though he had noticed that McGonagall seemed right angry at something, and from her tone, it was Albus himself.
Kingsley froze, a sudden thought coming back to him. None of those who had gone to Sirius Will reading - namely the Weasleys, Remus and Tonks – had turned up, with the exception of McGonagall. Something was going on…
Sighing once more, he turned his attention back to the case at hand. "Delaney, take her back to the Ministry. She doesn't need to see…" He trailed off, swallowing hard. The state the Death Eaters had left the muggle couple in… No good would come of their daughter seeing that.
Especially the message that had been scrawled across the living room wall in, they thought, was the wife's blood.
'No friend of Potter will live'
As the female Auror nodded and began to lead the distraught young woman away from the house, Kingsley turned back to the front door, taking a deep breath before stepping inside again. It was going to be a long night…
