Wrongs Darker than Death or Night
He didn't know how long he'd been in the locked chamber on his own, waiting in the dark. When he checked his watch it was past noon, but then he realised he'd not looked at his watch at the start so this was no use to man nor beast. He did know another half-hour passed before anything else happened. So Scorpius Malfoy waited. He shuffled about the chamber, paced a groove in the stone, sat with his back against the wall, and tried to not think about what was ahead. Because there was no way it was going to be good.
He wasn't sure why he'd stepped up to face Thane like that. The man was a murderer who wrapped himself in silken words and masks and pretended, even to himself, that he was a figure of honour. Scorpius knew that better than the others; had seen it several times. Appealing to that side of him and hoping the mask didn't crack was their best chance at survival. Selena would have clammed up or snarked. He didn't know what Matt would do. Rose was scared and angry, and Albus' agitation had been plain to see. That was, perhaps, the most upsetting part. Albus, first terrified for Lisa and furious at those who might have hurt her. Then, betrayed and lost. Nobody else was in a position to do the talking. Nobody else knew Thane like him. So he'd stepped up, and it had got him here, about to be used by the Council of Thorns for who-knew-what. All he could do was hope that whatever had made Thane spare him in the past would hold firm today.
It was a small hope.
I'll come back. Every time. Except maybe this one.
The door swung open, and he jerked to his feet and wished like hell he knew how to fight without a wand. If he got out of this, he told himself, he'd learn. Start a bare-knuckle boxing club in Hogwarts and get all of the detentions of a lifetime -
Prometheus Thane's face was as cold and uncompromising as the stones of Ager Sanguinis, the shadows of the gloomy cells turning his angular features from handsome to monstrous. 'It's time.'
Scorpius dusted his hands off and gave a grin that was inexplicable even to himself. 'Do I get to know what it's time for?'
'Follow me,' was the only answer.
He did, trooping out the room and down the long corridor. He remembered this section of passageways, and he knew they were headed for the central chamber. Something cold sliced into the back of his mind, but he gritted his teeth, shunted it to one side. It was not time to panic. 'Do I get to know?' Thane had two of his flunkeys with him, but they looked no more likely answer.
'You'll see. We'll explain,' said Thane, and pushed the door open to the main chamber.
The ice spread down Scorpius' spine, took up residence in his heart, and his veins became like a spiderweb frozen on a winter's morning. The Veil was as dominant as ever, the pool of grey shadows ebbing with a silence that loomed over all sound or echoes. He could see the wizards of the Council of Thorns bustling about, saw the scaffolding towering over the Veil itself, but none of that could drown out the whispers.
Not foolishness. Simply sensible.
They were louder than they'd been last time.
After all. I'm the best at this.
'What the hell are you doing, messing with a Veil?' When Scorpius spoke, his voice sounded as if it was coming from a long way away.
'You make it sound like you know what this is, what its power is,' said Thane, and grabbed him by the arm to pull him across the chamber, towards the base of the scaffold.
'Then explain it to me.'
'I'm not going to do that.' Thane's voice was colder and tighter than he'd ever heard it, more devoid of warmth than even on the back of a golem-dragon in Tomar. An absent part of Scorpius' mind wondered what he could hear, but then they were drawing up to the tallest wizard there, clad in black and as still as death. 'He will.'
It's now or never. He's fading, fast.
Scorpius had never met Colonel Raskoph, but it was clear who stood before him, clear who commanded authority even over Prometheus Thane. Pale, empty eyes met his, and while there was recognition, there was something else there, a hard sort of hatred he couldn't understand. 'Scorpius Malfoy.'
'Hi.' Scorpius swallowed bile. 'So, I'm your volunteer.'
'You make it sound as if you had a choice.'
'I could be thrashing and screaming. That'd make this really awkward. But in exchange for my cooperation, you'll let the others…' His voice trailed off as he met those grey eyes, and the kernel of cynicism in his gut reared its head once again. Scorpius' throat went dry. 'You have no intention of letting the others go.'
'Some of them,' said Raskoph. 'If you struggle, I will kill them all. Will that suffice?'
Scorpius' hands clenched into fists and his eyes darted around the chamber. There were about twenty wizards in the room, all of them recruits of Prometheus Thane and Raskoph, and he didn't have a wand. He wouldn't be able to twitch before he was hit by a dozen Stuns, at best, and then there'd be consequences…
You've lost, hissed a voice in his ear which wasn't an echo of death. He hoped it wasn't a premonition. They've got you, they've got the Chalice, and if you don't all die, most of you will. You're actually damned this time.
'What're you doing here?' was all he asked in the end, his voice filled with ashes.
Raskoph gave a flourish of the wrist towards the scaffolding which could only be mocking. 'Welcome, Malfoy, to Project Starfall. Because the rising star that was Eridanos is falling, and something new shall come from its remains.'
Scorpius looked to the Veil, the scaffolding, then back to Raskoph. 'You make these plagues from sites of necromantic energy. This place is infested in it from the Veil, from the battle. So you're going to make another one, aren't you? That's why you need the Chalice, and it's why you scouted this place out, too? You didn't just need the item, you needed the right location.'
'And the Chalice has been delivered to us.' Raskoph reached into his robes to pull the cup out, that golden cup which had started all of this and, Scorpius, feared, doomed them all. 'Despite your best efforts. So there is no more time to waste.'
'Why do you need another plague?' Scorpius' expression twisted. 'I saw Eridanos, I saw Brillig. You seemed to be killing people perfectly fine.'
'Brillig was a test site,' said a new voice, and the hairs on the back of his neck rose as he turned to stare down Eva Saida, who slunk out of the gathered crowd of wizards. 'Not just the last demonstration of Eridanos' power. But th- we were trying to make it better.'
For her, at least, he still had rage, and his fists clenched as he rounded on the traitor. 'You saw the things Eridanos made. What the hell was wrong with them?'
'Control,' said Eva. 'It's one thing to create an army of powerful, intelligent Inferi. But then they need to be commanded. Eridanos didn't do that, not fully. But the mechanisms have been perfected, and it's time for a new plague. One which will provide the perfect, biddable soldiers.'
Raskoph gave Thane a look. 'Is this necessary? I do not require him to understand.'
'I'll be more cooperative,' growled Scorpius, 'if I understand what the hell's going on.'
'Hell is correct, Malfoy,' said Raskoph, impassive. 'From the fires of Phlegethon, from the depth and power of Eridanos, the Council of Thorns' new weapon will arise. And it is so perfect, so much my perfect vengeance, that you will be the vessel. Through you we will bring the oblivion of Lethe.'
Scorpius' throat tightened. 'I'm going to regret this,' he said, 'but "vessel"?'
Raskoph ignored him and turned to Thane. 'Let us begin.' He handed the Chalice over, the other man stony-faced as he accepted it.
'Oh, no.' Scorpius jerked back, away from Thane. 'There's going to be a lot of struggling if I don't -'
But he'd moved closer to Eva, and it was she who grabbed his shoulders. 'It'll go better if you cooperate.'
He shrugged off her grip, whirled to face her. 'With you? Never. You can keep your hands off me and keep the hell away, because I promise that if there's a single one of you I get a pop at…' It was impotent anger, desperate anger, terror rising in him and demanding he lash out at something because it gave him the slightest hint of control in the face of the abyss yawning before him. And out of all of them, she was the one he could hate the most.
Then Prometheus Thane had an iron grip on him, hauling him back. 'With me, Malfoy. This won't kill you. We need you alive.'
He'd thought that would be comforting. The uncertainty of what else would happen bubbled in his gut to kill any reassurance. 'Then keep this bitch out of my sight!' It was the most petty of demands, but it was one he thought he stood a chance at, and getting his own way in even the smallest, most petulant way sounded better than not getting his own way at all.
Thane gave Eva a look, and she lifted a hand, backed off, faded into the crowd. Within seconds, Scorpius found that without her to hate, it was an awful lot harder to stop the thudding in his heart, the dryness of his throat, but he didn't dare struggle against Thane's grasp as he was dragged to the scaffold. If he was doomed, he had to minimise the damage to the others. The only thing he'd gain from resistance was their punishment.
So he followed Thane to the ramp up the scaffolding.
'We're going to create the Lethe plague in you,' said Thane, his voice low - low enough, Scorpius realised, that Raskoph couldn't hear them, which set his mind into as much of a horrendous swirl as his words did. Was it possible that Thane was trying to reassure him? 'You'll be a host for it, which we can then contain the way we've contained the previous plagues.'
'And that won't infect the room?'
'Like Eridanos, it'll take more than sharing breathing space to spread it. It's probable that the immunities against Phlegethon, which worked against Eridanos, will work against Lethe - for us. But once it's over, we have golems in the next room who will handle you. Just to be sure.'
Scorpius couldn't swallow the lump of ice in his throat. 'And then I get to be a test subject so you can see how horrible it is?'
'We'll be able to siphon it off before you've suffering too badly,' said Thane, hand on his shoulder less commandingly tight. Almost reassuring. 'We're not going to lock you up and watch it kill you. You're not going to die. I doubt your father would approve of that very much.'
It was odd, Scorpius marvelled, how eventually the body became incapable of feeling further shock. He was too scared stiff to more than blink at that. 'So he is involved, after all.' He didn't want to linger on that thought. 'So why use me?'
'A pureblood's body is more accustomed to the presence of magics in their body. Else Raskoph would have much preferred to use one of the half-bloods amongst you.' Of all things, Thane sounded wry.
'Then why the Veil?' Asking questions was easiest, he thought as they trooped up the scaffold ramps. It meant he didn't have to ask what happened after this. 'Why the Chalice?'
'Veils are passageways between the realms of the living and the dead. They're locked gates, containing the energies of a tainted place such as Ager Sanguinis. The plagues are infused with the energies of the realms of the dead, but opening these Veils, the passageways, is difficult and dangerous. The Chalice…'
'…is both realms, bridges the gap, allows you to use Veils safely and freely. Exciting. Right. I get it.' They reached the top of the scaffold to find the platform that stretched over the Veil itself, its shimmering, grey silken and ghostly pools looming beneath them. The boards of the platform had already been prepared, sigils and ritual markings carved into the wood.
Thane let go and nodded to the platform. 'Step into the centre.'
Choices were limited. If he got himself beaten or killed, or got one of the others beaten or killed…
Scorpius clenched his jaw and padded across the markings into the central circle. At once he could feel the fizzing of the air around him, like his presence had sparked something to life. He didn't want to turn around, didn't want to see Thane, or look at the Veil below, so his gaze went to the crowds of the wizards of the Council of Thorns. They'd stopped what they were doing, gathered up in an excited audience to watch what was about to happen.
I feel like I'm on stage with the Weird Sisters, except I'm about to become the host for a new, evil plague of death.
He could see Raskoph at the front, tall and impassive. His expression had barely changed through the conversation; why would it change now? Eva Saida, the traitor, he couldn't see in the crowd. Perhaps she'd left to ensure his cooperation. Perhaps the guilt he'd swear he could feel rolling off her had got too much, perhaps she couldn't watch the fruits of her labour.
Then Thane began chanting behind him, magic crackled in the air about his head, the Veil swirled under him, and other people were at the absolute bottom of Scorpius' priority list.
This is a long shot, you hear me? If this doesn't work, it's not because you didn't try enough or didn't care enough.
Tell Selena I will be thinking of her.
The markings around the inscriptions at his feet blazed to a shadowy light, a black energy which sucked in any of the sunlight creeping through the hole above. A glance over his shoulder showed Thane, wand in one hand, the Chalice of Emrys extended in the other, those same shadowy energies ebbing from the cup in a thin, sickly tendril.
The crackling at the back of his neck stopped feeling like the fizzing optimism of pure magic, of a summer's morning after a rainstorm, and became something altogether colder, sicker.
I guess it's time to find out if I'm a genius after all.
You have been a good friend, Scorpius.
And the Veil swirled underneath, a sleeping beast of darkness and death stirred to agitation. Spiderwebs of grey echoes and energies reached upwards like long, warped fingers, and Scorpius had to grip his arm, plunge his nails into his wrist to keep calm, to compel himself to stay still. If there was one thing which scared him more than this ritual, it was the knowledge that disrupting a ritual partway through never ended well.
The darkness from the Chalice, from the ritual markings, flowed together, intertwining with the tendrils from the Veil like a weave, black and grey mingled and swirling around him. Faces swarmed in and out of the miasma, some indistinct and unknown - but others he recognised. Methuselah, Tim, Spinks, his grandfather. How long it was there, this vortex of magic and shadows and death, he didn't know. And when it started to subside, when Thane's chanting from behind him fell silent, his first thought was, I don't feel any different.
Then the energies faded fully, and he felt the chill in his bones stay with him, the hairs on the back of his neck stay up, and though he didn't feel any more nauseous or light-headed than he already did from sheer terror, Scorpius knew, with every beat of his heart, that something in him was wrong.
Thane's expression was flat, blue eyes cold and assessing when he turned around. 'It's done.'
Scorpius drew a breath that raked on his dry throat. 'So I've upheld -'
And any bargain was lost in the thunderous sound of masonry exploding and shattering. The platform shuddered, and Scorpius lunged for the railing in terrified instinct, clutching for dear life before looking down.
One of the chamber walls had been blown in, chunks of masonry scattered about, and through the risen dust and debris he could see some Council wizards had been hit. Then through the hole they came, a half-dozen of them, clanking figures in plate armour with mechanical, unnatural movements that he knew well.
Golems? What the hell -
They surged into the Council wizards with swinging fists, any spells flung at them deflecting off their armour or their stony hides, and all fell to chaos. Scorpius could hear Raskoph bellowing instructions, telling his subordinates how to bring them down, but it was madness as solid metal and stone thudded into brittle bones and soft flesh.
Then there were new voices shouting spells, and these weren't the Council wizards. Looking around wildly, Scorpius saw one of the doors burst open, saw the figures who lunged into the chamber, moved for cover, started hurling their attacks into the chaos, and his heart surged.
They're free.
The scaffold stopped creaking, and Thane let go of the railing to stalk to the centre of the platform. 'It doesn't matter,' he muttered as if Scorpius wasn't there. 'They're too late.'
He had probably ignored him, Scorpius reasoned, because he didn't have a wand. That made him not a threat, and from up high, Thane could lift his own wand, level it at the witches and wizards daring to defy him. Pick his targets, take his time, bring whatever he wanted to bear down upon them.
But this wasn't the first time Scorpius had flying tackled anyone, least of all Thane himself. His shoulder thudded into his side and they both hit the platform, scrambling, kicking, punching. Scorpius snatched at a wrist and twisted it, only to find himself clutching the Chalice of Emrys, not Thane's wand.
Only one thing for it. He rolled towards the edge, and stuck his hand out over the Veil. 'Call them off!' he bellowed at Thane, even if the man was over him, wand extended. 'Or I drop this and you'll never fucking get it back!'
Thane drew a sharp, hissing breath. 'We've done the ritual; what makes you think -'
'You haven't checked if it's worked. You might need to do it again. This thing is invaluable to you. Call them the hell off!'
A small part of Scorpius' mind wondered how Thane was supposed to call the Council off when they were being attacked by golems, too, and God knew where those had come from. He glanced into the fight where the armoured figures sawed their way through the wizards, just in time to see one of them lift a man and hurl him into the scaffolding.
Oh, no.
The platform lurched. On his back, Scorpius couldn't do more than flail, and then there was nothing beneath his back, nothing beneath his feet, and only by sheer panic did his hand shoot out to clutch the edge of the wooden boards of the platform -
- which stopped him from falling into the Veil. His legs swung with nothing to find purchase on, his knuckles turned white from clinging to support his entire weight, and the chaos around him faded to irrelevance.
After all. I'm the best at this.
I guess it's time to find out if I'm a genius after all.
And the echoes of death rushed up to meet him.
Then there was a firm hand on his wrist, and Thane's head appeared over the edge, eyes wide. 'Give me the Chalice!' he bellowed.
'So you can drop me?' Scorpius' other hand was still holding the Chalice only because it hadn't occurred to him to let go. His grip on the platform was weak by now, and he knew it was only Thane's hold that keept him up there. 'Pull me up!'
'With one hand? Give me the Chalice so I can pull-'
And Thane's grasp on his wrist slipped.
There was a split second where Scorpius thought, ridiculously, that Thane and the platform were getting smaller. Then he realised what was happening, and all he could do was scream.
Plummeting. Wind rushing past him, hands flailing, grasping, trying to find his purchase on something, anythingbut the cool metal in his hand - and finding only air.
Then the ground - no, that nothing- racing up towards him, all-black, all-consuming, and when he hit there was a sense of the endless, swirling void -
And then no sense at all.
Rose's heart stopped.
A spell flew over her shoulder and hit masonry, showering her in debris. Matt grabbed her by the arm and pulled her away from the blast - then he, too, looked up, saw, and froze. Just as Scorpius hit the surface of the Veil, and disappeared.
She knew the stories of her parents' past. She'd heard all of the adventures of Harry Potter. All of the impossible things he'd done, the crazy things he'd seen, the people he'd lost. Like his Godfather, fallen through a Veil himself. Dead. Gone.
Albus had been under the Cloak of Invisibility, an unseen fighter flinging spells into the chaos and causing almost as much damage to the Council Wizards as the golems. But she knew he'd seen Scorpius fall when she heard his roar of fury, even if it was no more than a background echo in the ringing in her ears. He pulled the cloak from him, rounded on the wizards, no longer set to hit and run, strike and evade, but charge. Hurt.
Seconds ago, they'd been bursting in, unsure how Eva had unleashed a team of golems on the Council of Thorns, but it had been their opportunity to even the odds, to bring them down and save Scorpius and run. Now, none of it mattered. Now there was no plan, no fight, nothing to save. Nothing at all left.
He was gone.
Matt's hand on her arm tightened. 'Rose! Rose! He's gone, we've got to go!'
He can't be gone. He comes back. Every time, every time he -
But she didn't have the strength to fight, and he started to drag her across the chamber, around the scaffolding, around the fight. Selena was next to them, bringing up shields rather than fighting back. Matt kept shouting, now for Albus to come with them, to move, to run…
Thudding footsteps. Bursts of magic. The cracking of metal and stone on flesh, of the golems bringing down wizards who tried to bring them down in turn. Spells and life and death and the stones of Ager Sanguinis quivering around them with the impact of it all.
And none of it mattered. It could have been happening to someone else, a dream of someone else's nightmare running before her eyes, and she had no capacity to reach out and affect any of it. To do a single thing except run as Matt dragged her, to watch as Albus gave an anguished noise and burst into a sprint after them. They ran through the door to the stairway, and Matt let go of her to lunge on the right steps, smacking the Greek symbols so hard she'd have thought his wand would break if she could care about any such thing. Then the stairway moved, the passageway was in sight, and Matt had her arm again, was dragging her, stumbling and staggering into the darkness.
They ran. They ran until they got to the hidden chamber where they'd found de Sablé's notes, where the Chalice had once rested, and Matt dragged her down the turn deeper into the mountainside, the one they thought, hoped was another exit. If it wasn't, they were all dead - and Rose couldn't bring herself to give a damn about that.
He's gone. He's gone. He's not coming back.
Footsteps thudded behind them in the distance, and Matt shouted something she found no meaning in. She only put on another burst of speed because he did, and because it was easier than to be dragged - and then daylight shone ahead, bright and blinding and full of a warmth she couldn't feel.
Sand. Rock. A path leading its winding way through the cliffs and mountains into which Ager Sanguinis was built, and she didn't know where it led, but it went away, and that would have to do because the Council wizards, Thane and Raskoph and maybe even Saida, hadn't given up their pursuit, she could hear them behind -
She tripped. Her foot hit a rock, because her legs felt like lead and didn't obey her commands properly, and she fell, wrenched from Matt's grip, on her hands and knees. Her breath flew from her lungs and even though she heard Matt swear, wheel around, grab her shoulder, she couldn't bring herself to move.
It doesn't matter. Scorpius is dead. It doesn't matter.
'Rose!' Matt was bellowing, trying to haul her like dead weight. Next to him, Albus reeled to face the Council, brandishing his wand and looking like a last stand was exactly what he wanted. Selena tugged at his arm, but to no avail, and whoever they were, the Council wizards thundered out of the passageway -
Crack.
Apparition. Figures swirling in the air, witches and wizards appearing in their midst and turning on the Council. With mute confusion, Rose looked up to recognise the tall shape of Matt's father, some faces she recognised only very, very vaguely. A witch in a grey, shabby greatcoat helped Matt haul her to her feet and flung a Stun at the Council at the same time. Albus shrugged off Selena's arm, only for another, huge figure to grab him by the elbow, and Rose squinted as she recognised - of all people - Reynald de Sablé, strong enough to drag him back.
Only then did she remember that Matt had summoned his father's help with the calling card, and that this had to be, at last, the cavalry, crossing a continent as fast as they could.
Not fast enough, was all she could think when they were bundled together, a Portkey ring thrust into their hands, and the world warped around them as they were twisted and dragged across the world.
She knew that when the world rushed back into reality, it would never be the same again for her.
'Your husband, Mrs Doyle, violated about eighteen international codes, not to mention domestic laws regarding vigilante actions against -'
'I had at least one member of the Auror Division with me,' said Gabriel Doyle, examining his fingernails without regard for the venomous glare Lillian Rourke had locked onto him. 'I don't think that makes it vigilante action.'
Matt watched, hands clenching the armrests of his chair, sat in the office of the empty warehouse where his father and his people had brought them from Ager Sanguinis. They were back in Britain, he thought, some isolated place where there had been Healers ready to tend to them, where they could sit down and rest and recover. Or, such had been the plan. When his father realised he'd only rescued four people, Floo calls had been made. Parents had been summoned, but that also precipitated an impromptu, behind-closed-doors gathering of some of the most important faces in British politics and anti-terrorism.
Rose and Albus' parents were still with them in the main warehouse. Selena had stayed to try to help bring them up to speed. Matt had thought this considerate of her when he'd slunk into the office to try to get a moment to himself, a cup of tea, a breather. Then Lillian Rourke had stormed in with his parents and Matt had realised Selena was just canny.
'The Auror Division,' his mother was saying to Lillian, far more poised and professional than her husband, 'will confirm they dispatched Captain Cole with the expedition.'
Lillian planted her hands on the desk and scowled. 'Yes, of course Harry Potter's going to say he signed off on this, even though he clearly didn't have a clue, because if he'd had a clue he'd have been with you in Syria!'
'I'm sure,' said Jen Doyle, 'that Harry knows his presence causes disruption wherever he goes and was keen to minimise any upset.'
'No, your husband didn't want to raise the profile of this illegal international action by including a celebrity on the team's roster.'
'I think that's neither here nor there. The Auror Division were involved,' said Jen. Behind her, perched on the desk, Gabriel scrubbed his forehead with a weary, frustrated hand. 'You cannot claim this was vigilante action -'
'Then I need,' said Lillian, voice tight, 'to take action against the Auror Division for an unsanctioned incursion of Syrian territory and the illegal abduction of civilians.'
Jen squinted. 'Civilians?'
'She means the Council of Wizards members bagged and dragged back for interrogation,' sighed Gabriel.
She looked back to Lillian and arched an eyebrow. 'With respect, Ms Rourke, this is ridiculous. We rescue four of our children from Council hands and arrest some of their members, and you're in here complaining like -'
'Of course I'm happy you got them home!' snapped Lillian. 'But you know as well as I do, Mrs Doyle, that we live in a world of rules and laws, and that we cannot simply stage what, in technical terms, was an invasion of Syrian territory -'
'Syria isn't going to protest!' Jen's lips thinned to an angry line. 'Syria is going to be too busy covering itself for letting that many Council wizards with that much magical equipment and reagents into the country. The world will want to know how they let this happen, not how British citizens stopped it.'
'I have enemies in the IMC; enemies who will love to say that I've allowed this to happen because it was my own daughter on the line -'
'That sounds like not my problem.' Gabriel looked up, dark eyes blazing. 'I did what I had to. Now, you can arrest me, in which case you need to arrest half the Auror Division's command staff, the head of the Department of Legal Affairs, and probably the Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and Director of the Contagion Task Force. Or, you can shut up, and say "thank you, Mister Doyle, for rescuing my daughter". I invited you as Selena's mother to come see her, not as the Chairman of the IMC to come and vomit your political woes all over me.'
Matt winced at the desk as Lillian Rourke drew a sharp breath. When she spoke, her voice was iron tight. 'I am going to go out there,' she said, 'and see my daughter. But this situation is not over, Mister Doyle.'
His father mouthed silent thanks at her departure as Lillian left, ignoring the disapproving look from his wife, but it wasn't until she shut the door that Gabriel spoke again. 'Ungrateful bloody bureaucrat -'
'It's not ingratitude,' said Jen, watching the door with a guarded expression. 'It's fear. You responded to a Council threat today as a private citizen and were more efficient than the IMC. That threatens her leadership, that threatens the IMC, and it threatens her as a parent to know that all her power was not as capable in saving her child as yours.'
A sneer tugged at Gabriel's lip. 'I have less than no patience if she wants to jump through hoops -'
'Those hoops are the law, dear; lack of accountability is exactly what I've warned -'
'Mum. Dad.' Matt didn't move, stared still at the desk. 'I don't - no more arguments. Or fussing about the political ramifications of today. Please.'
They fell into a guilty silence at once, and his mother moved to his side, put her hands to his shoulder in a protective manner he was unashamed to say was comforting. He had little need to pretend to be a grown-up today, and even less pride. He looked at his father. 'Thank you. Thanks for coming after us.'
The corners of Gabriel's eyes crinkled. 'You're my son. I don't care if Rourke gets me locked up for this. I wasn't going to do nothing. I've been doing nothing for too long.'
Matt nodded, and reflected on how being powerless when the ones you loved were hurting or in danger was, perhaps, the worst thing of all. Then he frowned. 'You found de Sablé?'
'I kept tabs on him after he left Tomar,' was the shameless response. 'It seems he's wanted to gather modern remnants of the Templars. So I've been funding him for that.'
Of course you have. With your resources as an international fucking information broker. But he couldn't summon bewilderment at that, or even resentment at this second life of his father's. It had saved their lives. Matt lifted a hand to his shoulder, grasped his mother's. 'What happens now?'
'Nothing has to happen now,' said Jen. 'We take this one a day at a time. You come home, and we help you find normalcy again. And, when you're ready, at a rate you're ready, you help your friends.'
Matt gave a gentle, humourless snort. 'They're going to need the help way more than me. And they're going to need it now.' He drew a careful, guilty breath. 'Is it wrong of me to say I didn't even like Scorpius Malfoy that much?'
His father, to his astonishment, gave a short, sad laugh before he swallowed it; at the surprised look from Matt and accusing look from his wife, he lifted his hands. 'Dying doesn't make someone a saint. Don't feel bad for remembering someone how they were. Just, well. Pick your audiences.'
Matt's lips twisted. 'I'm not about to go tell Rose and Albus that. Oh, hell.' He leaned forward, buried his face in his hands. 'I don't know where any of this goes next and I'm one of the few people who's halfway in one piece.'
Jen's hand on his shoulder tightened. 'It's like I said. One day at a time. And we're here with you. Everyone is.'
He got to his feet, not shrugging off her hand. 'We should get out there. I just wanted a moment; I should see the others…'
His parents didn't stop him, and he padded into the remarkably well-equipped 'abandoned warehouse' he was starting to suspect his father kept as a staging ground for insane international expeditions, just in case. Idly he wondered if he'd always had this, or if the Council threat had precipitated such action. The place sported a Healer's station, potions brewing equipment, the padding and dummies for wand-training. Had he felt less numb, less worried and exhausted, he'd be worried about his father being a rather terrifying man.
To his very little surprise, Albus and Rose were gone. Selena was stood with her mother, but pulled away from to cross the warehouse towards Matt. It was all he could do to respond in kind when she threw her arms around him. 'I'll see you soon,' she whispered in his ear. 'We'll be okay. We'll make this all okay.'
'I know.' On an instinct he didn't understand he kissed her forehead, then let her go to leave with the angry, stalking shape of Lillian Rourke. That left only two guests, two occupants of the warehouse who weren't on his father's payroll or favours list, and they had not left with their children.
'Ginny and Ron took Albus and Rose home,' Hermione Granger explained as she approached the Doyles with Harry Potter. 'We wanted to… to take stock…'
'Thank you,' Harry interrupted, straight to the point, and shook Matt's father's hand.
Gabriel shook his head. 'I did what I could. I only wish it was more. And it looks like Rourke doesn't know if she should thank me or arrest me.'
Hermione looked around. 'This sort of independent action is legally suspect,' she said, and cast a look at Jennifer Doyle, head of the Office of Legal Affairs and technically her immediate subordinate. Jen gave an amiable, uncaring smile.
'If you don't have a rainy day fund and resources,' said Gabriel, 'then I suggest you rectify that. Unless Rourke can get more control of the IMC, this sort of situation is going to get worse, not better.'
'I don't think,' said Hermione, 'that undermining her authority and the IMC by acting independently is going to help her get the power to keep fighting the Council. Besides, the Council failed today. They lost their new plague, and with the Chalice gone for good, this will set them back in making another one. If this quietens down we'll be seeing less IMC power, not more.'
Gabriel didn't look convinced, shoving his hands in his pockets. 'You know Lillian Rourke and her relationship with power better than I.'
Harry cleared his throat. 'I think politics and the world can wait for another day,' he said. 'I just wanted to thank you. And, also, ask one more question: does Draco know his son's dead?'
'Hell.' Gabriel closed his eyes. 'Someone better tell him before Rourke or the press does. I can go; we've done some of the same parties, we were Slytherins…'
But his reticence was obvious, and Harry shook his head. 'No. No, I'll do it.'
Hermione nodded. 'I'll go with you. Then we should get back to our families.'
'Yeah.' Harry frowned at the ground, and Matt suddenly felt like an interloper, the child amongst parents who were united in their latest trial - the question of how to help your children going through this sort of trouble, this sort of grief.
'If you want,' said Jen quietly, 'if Rose is struggling, I have some grasp of what she's going through. I'll help if I can. We should all help each other, if we can.'
'Thank you,' said Hermione, but the look in her eye was distant, pained, and while Matt had no doubt his mother's offer had been genuine, it seemed like they were all about to march off into their own, private hells. 'But we'll see. We should go and see Draco. And I suspect that nothing is going to make this better so much as time.'
A/N: Yep. I feel the need to comment on this chapter, but there's nothing really to say.
Merry Christmas?
