Every single cell in her body hurt. Not surprising. But she was way too comfortable, meaning she was in some infirmary. Back at the castle, most likely.

Her empathy did not work as well as usual, so she couldn't tell people apart, but there were a lot of them around her. Pacing, whispering. Worrying.

Marina was in no mood to recount what had happened tonight … was it still tonight? … so she kept her eyes closed.

That was just as bad. Her brain, now awake, was not on board with leaving her in peace. The monster's face was burned into her retinas, Bellatrix' cackle still ringing in her ears. Elvira's expression when she'd realised she had been enslaved to help the people she despised…

Not to mention the small detail that they were now at full-on war and needed to plan. With their master back, the Death Eaters would do worse than muggle-sport.

Before she could let someone know she was awake, however, the agitated whispers turned into more.

"You cannot be serious," Carmen almost hissed in outrage.

"Ms Nott, you need to realise-", Fudge replied with uncommon steel in his voice. Yet he never got to finish whatever nonsense he had been about to level at her friend.

"No, we don't," Harry snapped, as angry as she had ever heard him. "My sister was tortured, tortured, tonight. You don't get to waltz in here and accuse her of lying."

At that, her eyes snapped open. As to be expected, everyone was here. All her friends – all Harry's friends –, Dad, Hestia, Remus, Mad-Eye, Dora… the Weasleys, the Notts….

Marina was surprised Madame Pomfrey had not yet kicked the crowd out.

"You cannot expect, Mr Potter, that I would take the word of two disturbed children…"

Yes, she was going to have to kill Rita Skeeter. But first…

"Half the Auror department saw it with their own eyes," she butted in, heaving herself into a sitting position.

Everyone's heads collectively snapped around to stare at her.

Harry all but fell out of his bed next to her and sat on hers, hugging her. She would have to talk to him about what she sensed. He had no business feeling guilty.

"So – what did I miss?"

"He got away," her Dad growled, sat on her other side and took her hand, visibly forcing himself not to do more.

"The Aurors arrested Lucius, Avery, Macnair and Parkinson," Remus added mildly. "The rest escaped as well."

Bellatrix.

She flinched in pure reflex. That maniac was still free.

"How the bloody hell did the rat manage to get away?" she asked, frustrated. How did that traitor keep having so much luck?

"Crouch disapparated with him. On orders, we presume," Elias replied, no happier than she was. David, she noted, was glaring at his three-times boss.

"Their loyalty is questionable," Fudge said pompously – only now answering her earlier statement. Marina gaped.

"The Aurors' loyalty is in question? They have one job, Minister. To keep us all safe. And why in Merlin's name would anyone make that up?" Hestia asked with bite in her tone.

"They seem more concerned about Ms Black's and Mr Potter's good opinion, supporting their need for attention and disregarding any and all protocol."

Oh yes, he'd been reading Skeeter's column. Word for word.

"David, take my memories," she asked her boyfriend, her eyes never leaving the coward in charge. The wizarding world was so doomed. "Then take it up to Dumbledore's pensieve. Perhaps seeing it with his own eyes will convince the Minister."

Fudge cringed so hard he actually took a step back.

"I am convinced," a new voice came from the doorway.

She had never seen the man before. He had tawny hair that he kept in a messy mane that fell to his shoulders. His eyes were tinged yellow. Marina estimated him Amelia's age, despite his more worn look. But this was no bureaucrat.

David, Elias, Dora, Kingsley, and even her Dad all stood straight. Almost at attention. Which told her exactly who this man was.

"Mr Scrimgeour," she greeted the Head of the Auror Office grumpily. Even if the man believed them, right now she was too annoyed to be polite to anyone.

He nodded, eyes sharp, and waved at his employees to relax.

"The rest of my men have informed me of tonight's events," Scrimgeour announced to the room. "My office will take steps to prepare."

"Whatever you need," Amelia agreed and nodded in respect. "Just call my office."

Right, because despite her cordial tone, she was his boss.

"Not without my approval, you won't," Fudge huffed indignantly.

Scrimgeour and Amelia, without looking at each other, both raised an eyebrow.

"How would you propose to run the Ministry without aurors and without my people?" Jupiter asked calmly, but any moron could see the anger in his eyes.

"You wouldn't…"
"You have a choice to make, Cornelius," Dumbledore joined the fray. "Your Department Heads already have. Are you going to do the right thing or not?"

"And he just walked out?" Andromeda asked.

It was two days later, and she was about to be released to attend the feast. The speech would be depressing this year.

"Without a word. Turned on his heels and left. Amelia and Jupiter are talking to their colleagues. I think they're preparing a Vote of No Confidence to relieve Fudge of office."

"That takes time," she replied, surprised, and smoothed non-existent wrinkles out of the sheet.

"Months, probably," Marina agreed. "But if he won't fight, someone has to."

So far, everyone had taken great pains not to ask her any questions. Harry had told the whole lot what had happened. He had also scarcely left her side at all.

Everyone else was busy reassembling the Order. Next month, she was turning seventeen and there could be no more argument that she was too young to join. Not that her Dad would have argued, but she didn't really want to fight with Dromeda, Laura and Molly either.

"Fudge is a fool," Narcissa announced, joining her sister at Marina's bedside. Her tone was coloured with disgust… and fear.

"Tell me he is not making your life harder than it needs to be."

Narcissa had been with Lucius when he had been summoned and so she had known before anyone else that their worst fears had come true. Kreacher had been under standing orders for this very instance and so Cissa had summoned him to help her move all her belongings to her new home.

Benjamin's house.

It had the best protections money could buy and magic could build. Also, not about to risk losing his younger son as well, Ben had placed the house under the Fidelius.

So Draco and his best friend would live together for the time being.

Once that had been done, after the events of the Solstice, Narcissa had filed for resolution of marriage. Wizard divorces did not happen often, but everyone had the right; by law.

"He can't," Narcissa answered with a trace of her old arrogance. "The Ministry has no legal standing in civilian proceedings. And there is no judge on the Wizengamot who will deny me my freedom, now that Lucius is a proven and incarcerated Death Eater."

"You and Ben need to come up with a plan," Marina said, worried. "You're traitors to the maniacs now, and we know how well they take that."

"We're working on it," Narcissa assured her. "We're more worried about you at this point."

"So I've noticed," she replied dryly, gesturing to the heap of presents and cards that had amassed next to her. "But I doubt if all the therapy in the world is going to fix this one."

Whenever she closed her eyes, she saw – and heard – Bellatrix. Phantom pain would take over until she remembered to use the techniques she'd mastered to snap herself out of her premonitions.

"Marina, I…"

"Don't you dare apologise, Dromeda. You and Cissa are not responsible for your sister."

Not that the wizarding world agreed. Bellatrix' atrocities brought down outrage on everyone who shared even a trace of blood with her.

"Everyone is getting Ministry support-," Cissa picked off while Dromeda blinked against her tears, "-shielding all our homes with the best protection there is."

"How did they get that past Fudge?"

"Took it to the Wizengamot directly. He was outvoted after most the Auror Department testified to what happened."

"Lovely. It's not like we have real problems or anything."

"You cannot put that on yourself again!"

Marina winced. Getting dressed behind the room divider might shield her from being seen, but her ears still worked perfectly fine.

"What choice do we have?"

You knew things were really bad when Remus and Dad argued like this.

"One of you tell me what's going on," she said and stepped out, putting on her tie.

Neither one of them seemed particularly eager.

"There is only one way to effectively keep them away from home," her father finally got out, a stubborn undertone to his voice. Marina stared.

"No. Just no," she denied. "The house is surrounded by so much protective magic, even birds won't get through. We don't need a Fidelius." Yet.

"They'll be out for your and Harry's blood."

"They always were. But even Voldemort and Bellatrix aren't bold enough to march to our front door. Not before they have numbers."

"I'm not staking your lives on that."

"It's just for the summer. We'll be back in the castle in September. And even they can't recruit an army that fast."

She sincerely hoped.

The ride home on the Express was as depressed as it had ever been. No one actually brought up the subject, but everyone thought about it.

Between Harry's friends and hers, they'd taken up four compartments.

Marina had cracked the day before, after Dumbledore's speech, and had told them how she was feeling, which was not great.

She'd had to ask Madame Pomfrey for more Sleeping Potion, because every time she closed her eyes, she was back at that cemetery. Harry wasn't doing much better.

Hestia and Remus had talked her Dad out of the Fidelius, for now, and she'd offered Grimmauld Place as headquarters for the Order. They could hardly meet at one of their homes.

That one Dumbledore had under a Fidelius.

She'd also thought a lot and realised that no one with Black blood sacrificing him – or herself would cause a blood protection now. Not if Voldemort was casting the curse.

But why bother with that extra step of he'd been convinced that Harry would die that night? Who was he planning to kill that a Black might protect?

So much for her promise to… everyone… that she wouldn't drive herself batty.

Marina was grateful for the distraction when Harry asked the twins just who they'd been blackmailing all year. How had she missed that?

When they told them what Bagman had done – bloody fool, messing with goblins – Harry looked at her, an almost exited look in his eyes. She nodded.

The day before the feast, a Ministry representative had shown up and given them their Tournament winnings: 500 galleons each, since they'd shared the win.

Neither one of them wanted it.

So when they arrived at King's Cross, Harry dug out the money and handed it to a very flabbergasted George.

"Take it," Harry said firmly. "We don't want it."

"You're mental," George replied, trying to give it back.

"No, I'm not. You take it and get inventing. It's for your joke-shop."

"He is mental," Fred said in awe.

"Listen," Marina spoke up. "If you don't take it, we'll throw it down the drain. We don't want it and we don't need it. But I could do with a few laughs. We all could do with a few laughs."

"I've got a feeling we're going to need them more than usual before long," Harry added.

"But…," George said weakly, "there's got to be a thousand Galleons in here."

"Yeah," Harry ginned broadly. "Think how many Canary Creams that is."

She snorted a laugh.

The twins stared.

"Just don't tell Molly where you got it… though she might not be totally against it anymore…," Marina trailed off.

"But-"

"Look," Harry said flatly, pulling his wand. "Take it or I'll hex you. I know some good ones now."

"Just do us all a favour, ok? Buy Ron that Cleansweep Eleven he wants and say it's from you."

It was a more expensive gift than the Weasleys could usually afford but he had earned it. Plus, if he wanted on the House Team, he needed a broomstick.

Harry and Marina left before the twins could keep arguing. Their entourage was waiting for them at Platform 9 ¾ already.

War was coming for them, for Harry especially, but he wouldn't be facing it alone.

A/N: Sorry it took so long. I've been very sick for months. But more will follow soon...