Chapter 38: Shifting Tides

The cold wind bit at Safiya's nose as she hurried back toward her in-laws' house. The lights blazed welcomingly across the frost-kissed grass, making the lawn sparkle in the twilight. She smiled. Winter was her favorite time of the year.

It wasn't until she drew even with the walkway to the house that she realized something was wrong. The front door was hanging open, slightly off its hinges. The light that had seemed welcoming a moment before suddenly became a warning. Safiya hurried up the walkway, heart frozen in her throat. She dropped the groceries on the porch as her hand mechanically groped through her purse for her wand.

The scene inside was not the happy family gathering she had left twenty minutes ago. Her hand found her wand as her mind tried to parse what she was seeing.

Her wand was almost free from her purse when the spell burst across her chest. She never even saw her attacker coming out from the back hallway. Her last thought as she tumbled to the cold floor was that she'd known better than to marry a Muggle.

It was to Safiya's complete surprise that she woke up. She gasped and lurched out of the mediwizard's supporting arm. "What-"

"Hey, easy," he said, eyeing her white knuckled grip on her wand.

"Dylan, my husband," she said, eyes wild as she looked over the bustling bodies inside the living room.

"Everyone's alright. You must have put up one hell of a fight," the mediwizard said admiringly.

Safiya was dazed, but she knew she would've remembered a fight. All she remembered was seeing the bodies of her husband, his parents, and his sister lying on the floor. No, that wasn't true. There'd been a few other bodies, too. Cloaked bodies she hadn't recognized.

"Mrs. Cartwright," greeted a tall wizard in Auror's robes. "How are you feeling?"

"A bit stunned," she said, eliciting a laugh from the mediwizard who still knelt beside her.

The Auror smiled warmly at her. "You should be proud of yourself," he said. "You managed to take down three attackers before you got hit. Do you remember how many there were? Did any escape?"

Safiya stared up at him, mind blank. Attackers? Taken down? She'd gotten a T on her DADA Owl. The idea that she might have the skills to even challenge a single attacker, let alone three or more, was hysterically funny.

"It's very important to tell us what you remember, Mrs. Cartwright," said the Auror, looking very sincere. "If there were more than three Death Eaters, the sooner we know, the better luck we'll have chasing any survivors."

Safiya's mind whirled into action, but it was going in too many directions to be helpful. Death Eaters? Well, that only made sense given the political climate, but honestly… Who did they think she was, to be able to take down three Death Eaters? Lily friggin' Potter? Not to mention that the Auror was talking about survivors as though the three in the living room weren't. Which begged a bigger question, since Safiya was 100% sure that she wasn't capable of taking on anything more aggressive than a niffler: who had killed the Death Eaters, and why had they stunned her on their way out?

The morning's Daily Prophet was unusually popular, and Hermione grudgingly allowed a cluster of Gryffindors to read the headlines over her shoulder. "Heroine Defends Muggle Family From Death Eaters!" The huge picture showed a somewhat dazed looking witch wearing a cloak over Muggle clothes, standing in front of a Muggle house. An Auror stood next to her, beaming and shaking her hand repeatedly. The article itself was very skimpy, but no one at Hogwarts seemed to mind.

"That's so cool!" Ginny gushed, settling back in her seat to eat her breakfast. "She defended an entire family of Muggles! She was so brave to go help them like that."

"Actually," Hermione sniffed, "they were her family, not a family."

"She was still brave," Ron asserted from his place leaning over Hermione's shoulder. "Listen to this: 'When asked by reporters how she found the strength to face her adversaries, Cartwright cited the memory of the famous Lily Potter, another woman who fought to protect Muggles.' She must've been a Gryffindor."

"Hufflepuff, actually," said Hermione, having already finished the article. "And there have to be more women that have fought against Death Eaters! Lily Potter and this lady can't be that unique."

"They're pretty unique," said Neville. "But not 'cause they're ladies. It's pretty unusual that anyone other than Aurors defeat Death Eaters."

Unfortunately, based on the increasingly grim articles the Daily Prophet printed about attacks, deaths, and missing people, Neville's bland statement was entirely too true.

"We should have better defenses against them," Hermione grumbled. "It's not fair that they kill us and we've never learned anything more dangerous than a tickling charm."

"My, my, Granger," purred the soft voice of Levi Defayne. "Seeking the dark arts to even the playing field? That's a slippery slope, you know."

"Oh bugger off," she grumbled. "Unless you're offering lessons," she added under her breath. By Ginny's sharp glance, she'd heard.

Hermione wasn't sure why Defayne had started lurking around her and her friends. He wasn't being particularly subtle about it, and it had started almost precisely when Brie had been spirited off by his sister to recuperate from the wasting illness that had been sapping his strength since the holidays. He was usually decent company, so she hadn't really objected and no one else seemed bothered by him except Neville. Of course, Neville seemed bothered by everyone these days. Yet another mystery.

"SO," said Neville, ignoring Defayne and loudly changing the conversation. "Hogsmeade this afternoon?"

"Yeah," Ron said, sitting down next to Hermione and grinning at her. "Hogsmeade this afternoon?"

Hermione snorted. "Hogsmeade is going to be horrid today. Everyone is going to be couple-y."

"But that means the bookstore will be empty except for us," Ron returned cheerily.

"Are you offering to enter a bookstore of your own volition?" Ginny asked incredulously.

"For Hermione? Absolutely. I'm a Gryffindor!"

Even Hermione couldn't help smiling at the redhead's proud declaration.

"It's kind of pathetic that you fear bookstores," Ginny said. Hermione agreed, but couldn't quite bring herself to say it to Ron's face. Maybe he was growing on her.

"I don't fear bookstores," he retorted. The two were poised to go down the rabbit hole of sibling squabbles, so Hermione took it upon herself to agree to accompany Ron to Hogsmeade, despite the utter ridiculousness of the contrived holiday of Valentine's.

"It is not a date," she added, though no one seemed inclined to listen.

Voldemort trembled with rage as yet another report came in of a foiled attack and dead Death Eaters. Three raids, three unmitigated disasters. Only one had made it into the paper, for which Voldemort might have been grateful if he'd been in a reasonable frame of mind. First he'd lost Potter, now this.

"How," he hissed through clenched teeth, "did this happen?"

Silence greeted his question. You could hear a pin drop. His vision was a little red-tinged around the edges as he glared out at the few trusted individuals gathered in the small sitting room. By the way they flinched, they felt his wrath.

"My lord," whispered Yaxley, voice trembling pathetically. "might we have been… betrayed?"

His hesitation was a sign of his utter lack of anything resembling a meaningful thought.

"Crucio," Voldemort hissed. The heartfelt screams did a little to take the edge off his rage, and it was with a slightly improved outlook on life that he ended the curse and turned his glare on Snape.

Snape immediately bowed, which meant his eyes were pointing at the floor instead of somewhere more conveniently situated for Legilimency. "The Order wishes they were behind the foiled attacks," he said, voice ringing with truth, "but they were not. They are still scrambling over themselves to arrange their response to the ransom note."

"Crucio," Voldemort said, more from annoyance than anything else. Snape's screams took a bit more of the edge off.

"The Cartwright woman was an unexpected element," said Malfoy, voice slightly elevated to be heard over the dulcet screaming. "But the Ministry was unaware of any of the attacks until after they happened."

"We already assumed it wasn't them," said Voldemort dismissively, ending the curse on Snape. Malfoy's face tightened in anticipation of the curse, but Voldemort just tapped his wand idly in the air. "Those Ministry fools still refrain from killing us."

As soon as Malfoy relaxed, he hit him with the Cruciatus. Just for fun.

"It was mal Thea," said Rousseau, voice thick and dark with a rage all her own. "I told you-"

"Crucio," he said, unwilling to hear the rest. He did not need to be I-told-you-so'ed by a woman, especially one from France.

He turned his gaze to Bellatrix, one of his few favorites still standing. She met his eyes while sinking to her knees. She knew he liked easy access to her mind, and she liked the implied prestige of meeting his gaze.

"My lord," she murmured, "Your pet may have a point. It is odd that none of the Butcher's soldiers were found among our dead."

Knowing how much she hated Rousseau, her words carried an extra sting of possibility. It galled him to think that his time of being allied with mal Thea might be at an end. He'd hoped that he would be in a position of power before that day came. At the very least, he'd hoped that mal Thea would simply disappear back to France when he was bored of fighting in England. He did not want Rousseau's ranting to be true; he did not want to face the Butcher's army.

"My lord," murmured the man in question, placing a hand over his heart as though protesting the sting of a lie. "I assure you that, had my own men returned in the expected condition, I would not be here now. Their dead bodies were returned to my barracks through the use of Portkeys, a failsafe all my agents carry."

"I do so want to believe you," Voldemort sighed, looking into mal Thea's eyes. As usual, he was permitted easily through the man's barriers, but there was nothing to be seen except swirls of Hindi script.

"Things would be so much easier if you'd just think in pictures like a normal person." His thought flew like a sword into the nearest swirl of writing. The flash of pain pleased him. The sense of someone laughing most certainly did not.

With a shiver of effort, the nearest clump of Hindi unfurled and resolved into an apology in English, and was followed with a remembered image of a row of dead bodies in a nondescript room. They were easily recognizable as the agents loaned to Voldemort for the evening. Both the words and the picture had the glow of truth, but that did not necessarily mean anything. It was difficult to lie within your own mind, but certainly not impossible for someone with mal Thea's talents.

He sighed again as he withdrew from mal Thea's mind. "Crucio," he muttered, without much enthusiasm. This was not the proper start to Valentine's Day at all.

The Weasley family's kitchen table was not an ideal meeting space for the abridged gathering of the Order of the Phoenix, but they were making due. Molly was bustling around serving drinks as the final plans were hashed out.

"I still don't like it," said Minerva, glaring over her tea at Albus. "Why are they ransoming the boy? Why now? Why are we not questioning their motivations more?"

"It's not a ransom, precisely, is it?" Remus inserted with a little frown. "I mean, not really. Certainly not in a traditional sense. It's more like… They are asking for a meeting in order to trade information. Their information just happens to be about Harry."

"How do we know they aren't just seizing advantage of a student's prank," she shot back. "What assurance do we have that they actually have information worth trading for?"

"Does it matter?" Sirius glared at her. "If there's even a chance, we have to give it a shot!"

Minerva's expression softened slightly, but she didn't give in. "It could be You-Know-Who."

"For what purpose?" returned Albus, peering at her over his glasses. "Of course you are right, and it would be like him to try and manipulate this situation, but what would he gain from it?"

"He's getting you and half the staff out of the castle for a whole day!" she cried. "Don't you see how that's dangerous?"

He chuckled. "He wouldn't dare attack Hogwarts, my dear."

"Hogsmeade, then," she said, voice quivering slightly. "The children will be out on Holiday, vulnerable."

"He isn't after children." Albus said it firmly, but the rest of the room shifted uncomfortably. Remus and Sirius exchanged pained looks. Voldemort was not like other people. He did not consider children off-limits, and they knew it better than most.

"Maybe you should cancel the Hogsmeade trip," Arthur suggested, glancing at his family clock. All his children were 'at work' except the two who were 'at school.'

"Nonsense," said Albus. "If it makes you feel better, Minerva, you may return to Hogwarts and stand guard. Floo Kingsley Shacklebolt and ask him to keep a special eye on Hogsmeade today."

"Thank you," she said stiffly, "I will." She rose and marched over to the fireplace. She turned briefly. "I hope I'm wrong," she said, looking at Sirius. Then she disappeared into the fire.

"I hope you're wrong, too," said Sirius as the flames returned to their natural color. He turned back to Albus. "Where were we?"

Hogsmeade was even worse than she'd thought it would be. Pink and red hearts floated in the streets, and everywhere she looked couples held hands and blushed at each other. It wouldn't be half so annoying if the hand-holding didn't clog up the street so badly. She might be a little cranky because Ginny and Neville seemed to be enjoying the hand holding so much, and Ron was busy clowning around.

If Brie were here, she thought grumpily, he would've cleared her a path through the trysting couples with his evil eye. And, a rebellious thought sparked in the back of her mind, jealousy would've driven Ron to pay more attention to her instead of trying to push Seamus into an icy puddle.

Thankfully Ron was proven quite correct in one regard; the bookstore was nearly deserted.

Hermione quickly lost herself in the stacks, browsing for titles and subjects that caught her eye. It wasn't until her basket was nearly full that she realized Ron was the one carrying it, and he'd been quietly following her the entire time.

"You're still here," she said, trying to hide her surprise.

"Well, yeah," Ron looked confused. "Who did you think was carrying your mountain of books?"

She blushed, and he grinned down at her. "Hey, I got you out with me on a date. I'm not going to complain if you spend it all shopping for books, as long as you also grab a butterbeer with me after."

"Not a date," she said primly. But she looked at him through her bushy bangs, and noticed that he'd grown into his long limbs and freckles. He'd even grown into his big ears, which were suddenly charming instead of goofy.

"Sure it is," he shrugged, unaware of her train of thought. "Look at any calendar. It's definitely a date. February 14th."

"You are such an idiot," she said fondly. While his arms were full of books and before she could think better of it, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. She promptly retreated into the stacks, leaving Ron to trail behind with a dopey grin splitting his face.

Because he was right. It was a date.

Half an hour later, Ron and Hermione were joined at their booth in the Three Broomsticks by Neville and Ginny. Neville politely ignored the surreptitious new hand holding going on under the table. Ginny did not have any such reservations.

"I knew it," she said with a wide grin. "You two are so cute."

"I have no idea what you could possibly be talking about," said Hermione, looking down her nose at her friend.

"Right," said Ginny.

"Really," asserted Hermione.

"Leave be," said Ron, frowning slightly at his sister. Hermione watched the Weasley siblings make a series of strange faces at each other.

"It's as though they communicate without words," she murmured to Neville. He snorted into his butterbeer.

"Wait until he starts grunting," he whispered back. "That's when the real communication starts."

A sudden commotion on the street drew their attention. All along High Street, the firecracker pops of Apparation sounded. Somehow the winter sun did not soften the sudden appearance of Death Eaters. In fact, Hermione thought as Ron yanked her away from the suddenly shattering window, it rendered them much more terrifyingly real.

As she and the other students were shoved behind tables that were quickly being turned into a makeshift barricade, she had had time to notice a few things that had escaped her earlier. First, that previous Valentine's had always included a number of Slytherins enjoying the opportunity to insult new couples. Second, the complete lack of green and silver in the village this afternoon.

Another window was shattered by spellfire, and a number of dark shapes stepped through openings. The adults in the room were immediately targeted and fell quickly under the onslaught.

Hermione gripped her wand and tried to think of offensive spells, but the only thing that came to mind was her taunt from breakfast. Grimacing, she leaned around the table and shot a tickling spell at the nearest figure.

She made him laugh, so that was something.

The spell he shot back at her crackled with a far more malicious energy. She ducked out of the way, but not before she got a good look at their attackers. "Definitely Death Eaters," she reported grimly.

"Little children," said a smooth male voice, calming and benevolent. "We are emissaries of the Great Dark Lord, who seeks to right the wrongs of the wizarding world. If you are pure of blood and pure of purpose, you may step forward now. We will welcome you."

A few younger students whimpered, and Hermione felt her own heart clench. She felt Neville grab one hand and squeeze. Ron still had the other. Her pureblood friends could save themselves right now, if they wanted to.

Suddenly a Ravenclaw boy popped up out of the tangle behind the tables. Someone moaned and another tried to pull him back down, but he shook them off and clambered over the table. One of the Death Eaters chuckled as he walked toward them.

"What's your name?" The leader asked.

"Magnus Grayson," the boy answered. He didn't look much older than a third year.

The leader clapped him on the shoulder and shoved him toward the door. "Run along, little Grayson."

Heartened by this show, a few other students popped up and over the table. Two were allowed to go, but when the third said her name was "Whitechurch," the leader laughed.

"Your mother was a blood traitor and your father a mudblood," he said. "Crucio."

The little girl arched backward as she screamed. Hermione slapped her hands over her mouth to stifle her own scream of surprise and horror. Beside her Neville trembled as her screams continued, seemingly without end.

Ron released her hand and leaned around the table to fire off a stunner at the leader. The screaming stopped, but even as Hermione yanked Ron back to safety, it was obvious that the breathing room was over. Spells began showering the tables, and one near the other end of the room began smoldering.

Hermione took a turn peering over the table. She shot a summoning spell at Whitechurch's body and pulled the girl back to safety. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm herself and remember the spells she had learned. She was not defenseless, and she would not let those animals hurt another of her classmates. She summoned her strongest shield and slowly forced it to expand and include those around her. It was what Brie had called a good battle buddy shield because it allowed attacks to come from within while blocking spells from without. It was also an energy drain of the highest magnitude.

"Shoot!" she yelled. "Ron, shoot!"

Trusting her, he popped to his feet and started flinging spells. She wasn't sure what he was shooting, because all her attention was on maintaining the shield. Around her, students popped to their feet and shot off disarming spells and stunners or whatever minor hexes they happened to know. Ginny seemed to be shooting off bat bogey hexes. She really hoped some of them were doing damage.

Suddenly a green light flashed through her shield and a particularly skilled seventh year fell to the ground, eyes wide and lifeless. Hermione choked back a scream. Another green light flashed, and another skilled dueler fell.

"Get down," she screamed. "Down! They're killing us! The shield can't stop the killing curse!"

She'd known that of course, she thought hollowly, staring at the older Gryffindor's body. She'd known they were Death Eaters, that they used the Unforgivables. Somehow, she'd forgotten, she hadn't warned them that her shield couldn't save their lives.

Hermione cried as she held the stupid, useless shield against the Death Eaters.

Levi Defayne had not gotten the memo to stay in the castle, partially due to not being a Slytherin, but mostly because his thoughtless cousin probably figured he never went to Hogsmeade anyways, so why bother. He grumbled to himself as he hunkered behind the tables in the Three Broomstick with Anya. He probably should've gone when they issued the invitation. In fact, he really should have left.

Unfortunately, he had gotten the memo that the mal Theas had privately declared war on Voldemort, but hadn't been told whether Voldemort had received the notice yet. Considering what happened to Whitechurch, he wasn't all that eager to risk his own neck.

All these mixed messages were making life very difficult right about now.

Granger's shields were pretty impressive, but it was obvious that she was wearing thin around the edges. Watching two students die was probably not helping her mental state much either.

Next to him, Anya was watching the battle with wide eyes.

"Is this normal?" she inquired politely as a green killing curse flew above her head to hit the back wall of the pub.

"Oh yes," he responded, craning his neck to see over the table. "Though the epic battle is usually saved for the seventh date." She smiled at him, and he smiled back.

"I'm guessing the cavalry will be here soon," he said, growing serious as he eyed the fading edges of Granger's shield. He idly shot a cutting hex over the table and smiled in satisfaction as his target groaned and clutched his side.

"Where's the fun in that?" Anya asked, shooting her own hex over the table. She apparently hadn't noticed that the shield was nearly done for, and no one else was likely to have the skill to recreate it. Once Granger fainted, most of them would be left to their private body shields, if they knew how to make one.

Before he could voice a warning to be ready, the predicted cavalry arrived. It was not, however, the cavalry he'd expected.

Levi stared, mouth hanging open, as his uncle's soldiers popped into existence in the streets. The Death Eaters in the pub whirled to face the new threat and were momentarily confused by the unexpected appearance of their allies. Many of them turned back to face the students only to be hit in the back. It was less a battle, and much more a rout. All around them the Death Eaters fell or popped out of existence.

The leader lingered, growling at the tall figure who stepped fearlessly into the room, glancing around with a practiced eye.

"The Dark Lord will have your head for this betrayal, mal Thea," the man growled.

Uncle Shay drew himself up proudly, drawing a shiny silver saber. He pitched his voice more for the student audience than the Death Eater.

"Tell your master that the wizards and witches of England are under my protection. I have heard their pleas for help and succor, and I answer them with the open arms of friendship."

The Death Eater shot a killing curse, but Uncle Shay's bright saber flashed up to block it. It was showy and kept him distracted just long enough for the Death Eater to Apparate away. Not that Uncle Shay seemed to mind. He sheathed his saber and began giving orders to his lieutenants. One woman hurried away toward the distant sounds of fighting, while Uncle Shay and another man stepped further into the room.

When nobody seemed likely to jump up and cheer, Levi grudgingly forced himself to his feet and stepped around the table. He gently pulled Anya along.

"Defayne, no!" hissed a voice from the other side of the barricade. It sounded a lot like Granger.

Uncle Shay seemed surprised to see him and immediately pulled his wand. Three hexes splashed against his lieutenant's expanded shield before he'd finished pointing the wand at Levi. He gave the students a jaundiced look.

"I will not hurt you," he said, obviously trying out a friendly tone of voice. It was not particularly convincing.

Levi held his arms out from his sides with a bland expression on his face. "I'm not hurt, Uncle," he said, loud enough for the others to hear. "But I know you want to see for yourself."

He was immediately tickled by a diagnostic charm, then clasped on the shoulders in something that might have resembled a hug if the species in question had arms that couldn't bend.

Granger's shield faltered, then collapsed. Levi smiled at Uncle Shay.

"If you want someone to fuss over," he said mildly, "I recommend Granger to your attention. She held a Pictish Shield over all of us, and may have just fainted."

Uncle Shay raised an eyebrow, obviously impressed. A quick gesture brought green-marked field medics into the messy remains of the room. The soldiers began the task of organizing the children and residents while they waited for all clear signal.

Levi made his way over to where one of the medics crouched next to Granger. Surprisingly, she was still awake, though not terribly alert. The Weasleys sat nearby with Longbottom, watching everything with a wary eye. Longbottom was the only one who didn't spare Levi a glance.

"Thank you, Granger," said Levi. "You probably saved all our lives today."

"Not all," she murmured, staring at the two bodies who still lay where they fell.

"No," he agreed quietly. "But you did more than anyone else could've. Don't lose sight of that."

He walked back toward Uncle Shay, glaring at him with feeling. They would have words at some point. But not now. Now, he allowed himself to be swept into the bustle of the clean-up; he was, afterall, a very useful prop. A rescued student did a lot to smooth things over as the actual cavalry came charging down the road from Hogwarts.