31 October
Sergeant Paul Clarke glanced at the luminous numbers on the dashboard clock – 00:06 – and confirmed on his watch: six minutes past midnight. The team that was coming to replace his three men – who by that point were slouched in the back of the van looking very worn after twelve hours of watch duty – was late. Paul himself had replaced the commanding officer seven hours ago and was still alert, not to mention feeling quite sorry for the flagging boys in the back. Even a cup of thermos tea and some biscuits hadn't cheered them up, but Paul supposed it was hard to be excited about a mission as tedious as this one.
They had been in the little village for thirty six hours, shifts changing every twelve – but that was the only thing that changed. The sleepy village was beyond normal, and the only reason they were here at all was because the supposedly-clever chaps at MI5 thought that something was going to happen. Paul knew that military intelligence had been watching a group of probable KGB agents for the last four months, and that they had pieced together enough information to know that there was going to be a co-ordinated bombing and assassination attempt around Halloween.
Paul smiled a little smugly to himself at the rumours that had leaked out about a "little slip of girl" escaping from the middle of intelligence headquarters while under guard - not that he sympathised with the spy of course, but he was not overly fond of the boys at five, and anything that made them look foolish was alright by him. They could be very interfering when it came to proper assignments; Paul had spent time in Aden back in '71 and was very used to real war, not this listening in on staticy conversations and taking long lens photographs nonsense. Get your instructions, find the enemy and capture or kill him depending on circumstance: that was how a war should be fought. Information had its place of course – for instance they knew that they were after only men now that the girl was safely out of the picture - but for all the listening that had been done on the little group of spies they only had a verbal description of Ogden, and nothing at all of Moony, or the code named Dumbledore. But it was enough; they sat here, parked on the curb of a residential street in this peaceful and unlikely village and watch for suspicious behaviour.
From the outside, their van just looked like your average tradesman's van, because they didn't want their presence here known. Inside would have been slightly more alarming to the usual village resident: four soldiers, who might be bored but were still ready, with weapons in arms-reach, all highly trained and excellent shots . Paul thought it was quite a waste to have such troops attending to a situation like this, but then if it turned out to be a significant attack, Paul would happily admit he was wrong. In these troubled times you didn't know if your next door neighbour was an enemy, so when handed reasonably concrete evidence that people were going to be hurt, he'd definitely rather sit in a van all night if it meant they could prevent it. Hopefully they - or one of the other two four -man teams posted about the village - would spot the disturbance and be able to stop it before it got out of hand.
'Clarke, come in,' squawked the walkie-talkie at Paul's hip through the peaceful silence.
Paul lifted it to his mouth and said, 'This is Clarke, go ahead.'
'Delay with vehicle. E.T.A. five minutes.'
'Copy that,' Paul replied, and stowed the radio in its holder. He turned to look at the tired men in the transport section of the van. 'You hear that boys? You'll be home in bed before one.'
All three gave smiles, and Jones said with a yawn, 'You know what? I sat in a ditch in Oman for thirty hours and I swear I was less exhausted than this.'
Paul grinned at him, knowing exactly how he felt. 'It's the lack of return fire – nothing like a few rounds going off above your head to keep you on your toes.'
Jones nodded. 'I think you might be right - but as boring as this is, at least we get tea. You should see the swill they tried to pass off as English Breakfast over there, tasted like dishwater.' The other men laughed, spirits lifting at the idea of finally being free from this monotonous mission - well, for twelve hours anyway.
'I remember it well,' Paul said, 'I was there for six months – you're right, I've got to say that was the only good thing about Ulster, at least they can do a decent brew.' There was a knock on the driver's window and Paul looked to see the driver had arrived.
'Right men,' he said, your chauffeur is here, 'I'll see you at seventeen hundred tomorrow if we haven't had any luck with this bombing thing by then.'
'Night Sarge,' they all said as Paul stepped from the van and nodded to the driver. It was quite chilly out that night, and there was a decent wind blowing, he quickened his pace to the replacement troop's van that had pulled in behind them.
'Evening lads,' Paul said pulling open the driver's door.
'Evening Clarke,' the three men chorused.
'Anything interesting happen while we were gone?' Mitchell asked. Paul knew Private Mitchell quite well; they had been on a number of postings together over the last ten years. He was a good lad, very quick on his feet - it was probably quite easy to be fast when you were only five foot six. Paul liked to blame his slightly slower pace on his own six foot height by saying there was more of him to lug around, and that it had nothing to do with the fact that he was much closer to forty than he would have liked.
'Not at all,' Paul said, swinging himself in to the front seat and shutting the door, 'though we did have some biscuits; that was probably the highlight.' The three men chuckled. They were all very relaxed, legs stretched out as they reclined against the hard interior wall of the van. Their guns resting at their sides and Williams had his beret in his lap as he scratched his head.
All these men had been briefed and knew that the thirty-first was the danger day, but as they were only ten minutes into it, it seemed unlikely that they would be facing any hostile activity in the immediate future. Terrorists liked to do as much damage to people and property as they could, and liked to have a decent number of witnesses; both of these factors made Paul think it was very odd to choose this little country village as a backdrop for a bombing, let alone an assassination. Through the mirrored windows of the van he could see the dark street they were parked in, with a few houses and a couple of little shops at the end of the lane; Paul thought it was a nice little village, albeit very dull - and an extremely improbable location for international espionage.
Hermione and Sirius popped into existence halfway down the old river valley on the outskirts of Little Hangleton. There was a whistle in the distance, down by the densely packed trees, and Hermione caught sight of movement - apparently Remus was early. It had only just gone midnight; Halloween had begun.
She shivered slightly as a cold wind blew through the valley. Sirius held tightly to her hand as they made their way down the slope; every time she glanced at him she would catch a glimpse of white teeth, as he was grinning broadly. She could almost feel the excitement radiating off him - this was it, they had reached the final event. Hermione understood why he was in such good spirits. Even with the uncertainty that Peter's supposed bravery had caused them earlier in the week, that was over now, and there was nothing left to stand in their way. Hermione couldn't quite believe they'd made it; she had pushed her decision on her future here aside for the time being, because she just wanted to enjoy the fact that in a little over seventeen hours Voldemort's soul would be burning and the evil man himself would be meeting his death in Godric's Hollow.
Remus had his wand pointing at them when they finally reached the bottom of the valley. Sirius chuckled, 'Really Moony?' but raised his own wand in response.
'Yes, really,' Remus said impatiently. 'What was your objection to my furry little problem?'
Sirius sighed, 'I'm assuming you mean the first one?'
'Yes, when you confronted me and I told you the truth – what did you say?' Remus asked.
'I think it was something like "are you telling me you get to have two days off classes every month no questions asked?"'
Remus nodded. 'I did point out that it was a redundant statement since you and James had been asking me endless bloody questions for the last six months.'
'Well, we thought you were in a cult or something,' Sirius insisted. 'Honestly Moony, the things we came up with!'
'I remember,' Remus said with a twisted smile. 'My favourite was that I was running an illegal cardigan importation ring.'
Hermione laughed and Sirius said, 'Yeah well, we were twelve and it seemed more likely than that our friend was a sodding werewolf - all the evidence pointed to smuggled knitwear!' He looked at Remus and said suspiciously, 'You did have a lot of cardigans; no one needs that many – or any at all really.'
Remus just shared a look with Hermione that said Ten years I've put up with this! This made her laugh even more.
'Alright then,' Sirius said, 'third year, why did you and Prongs spend the night on the battlements of the astronomy tower?'
'Because you're a selfish git,' Remus said at once.
'Wrong!' Sirius said, but he lowered his wand with a grin and walked closer to his friend. 'I was making sure we had an alibi.'
'You were not, you were in bed!' Remus said, his own wand falling to his side. 'Prongs called you on his mirror and you wouldn't come and get us because you didn't want to get up.'
Sirius shrugged 'Yeah well, it was cold.'
'How do you think we felt?' Remus asked incredulously.
'Er … colder?' Sirius said. 'Come on, it was after curfew – if I'd been caught coming to unlock the door then we all would have been in trouble, and you know Peeves would have been waiting for someone to come and help you after he locked you up there.'
'What were you doing up there in the first place?' Hermione asked, trying to remind them that she was there at all, and despite the fact that they really should be getting ready to destroy Riddle's soul instead of having an argument about locked doors from years ago, she really wanted to know.
'It was meant to be Pads with Prongs,' Remus said, 'but he went and got himself a detention for making this girl's cat nearly eat Flitwick, so I had to stand in.' He shook his head and chuckled, 'Prongs had this mad idea about giving a telescope extra powers so we could use it to see through walls and stuff, so we could sneak around, know if anyone was coming or whatever, and he'd broken all of ours in the process. So he decided to pinch one from the astronomy classroom; unfortunately Peeves had been in there and we'd hidden out the tower door to wait for him to leave but the scamming blighter had seen us and locked us out.'
'Good grief,' Hermione said in disbelief. At least every time she and her friends had gotten into trouble it had been for a better cause than trying to break the rules more efficiently. Sirius and Remus were both laughing by this point; the two men had sat down on a log and Sirius was shaking his head as Remus continued to reprimand him for laziness that had occurred nearly a decade ago.
As nice as it was to see them in such good spirits they had a very busy evening ahead of them; Hermione cleared her throat and they didn't seem to hear her. If they were going to be children, then she would treat them accordingly; she pulled out her timetable and said sternly, 'All right, listen up you two.'
Sirius looked up at her. 'Yes Miss,' he said and they both sniggered quietly under their breath, but gave her their attention.
Hermione frowned at the pair of them, 'First we are going to collect the wood for the parts that need covering, then we'll deal with the tree,' she pointed to the north side of the house with its maple tree wall, 'then patch up the holes. Sirius you have the nails don't you?'
'Yes,' he said patting his knee pocket, 'but I thought we were sticking-charming the patches on?'
'We are, but I want a nail in each just in case; we really don't know how it's all going to react.' Sirius and Remus had sobered by that point and both nodded as she went on, 'So once the frame is completely prepped then we'll have a little rest and a bite to eat. That should be around two-thirty, leaving us nine hours with all three of us doing the charms, and then, Remus, you'll go to Godric's Hollow, and Sirius and I will finish off here.' She looked at them, expectantly, 'Any questions?'
Remus put up his hand. Though he wore a serious expression, Hermione couldn't help but giggle just a little bit and play along. 'Yes Mr Lupin?'
'When are we putting the Horcruxes inside the house?'
'You will be actually,' Hermione answered. 'before we close the roof. You can drop them in when you're up in the trees – how's that?'
'Good.' Remus grinned.
Sirius jumped to his feet, obviously having had used up his quota of "still" for the evening already. 'Come on then, wood collection!' He shoved Remus hard in the shoulder and the werewolf stumbled as Sirius took off into the forest, his lit wand sending weird wavering light across the tree trunks. Remus laughed and shot after him.
Hermione followed at a more sedate pace, thinking that destroying someone's soul really shouldn't make them so happy; but then she felt the same way, full of nervous energy, she just didn't show it by haring about the dark forest competing – as the two men now were – to collect the most wood.
Hermione wasn't needed in scouring the forest for fallen branches, so she sat herself at the drop-off point. Sirius had taken to his animagus form in an effort to beat Remus in the spur of the moment game and it entertained Hermione greatly to see him trotting out of the darkness with a long branch clamped in his teeth. Every time, he would drop it at her feet, yip proudly and then try to lick her face before darting off again. Remus soon realised that he wasn't really needed either so he sat beside Hermione and started to help her with the transfiguration from branch to flat and serviceable plank. In a little over half an hour they had enough and Sirius – human again but still panting in a very dog-like way – was sprawled on the leaf strewn ground grumbling that Remus could have told him they'd stopped playing.
Hermione ended up taking on a supervisory role once again when it came to patching up the house. She did a fair bit of work on the lower regions, but as the worst structural damage was either on the roof or high on the walls, they decided to finish it from above. It made her feel quite woozy to watch as both Sirius and Remus crawled about in the thick lattice with seemingly no qualms about falling to their deaths. She did however deal with the large maple that had grown through the side of the shack, shrinking it down as Remus had suggested and transfiguring it into one very wide piece of timber that filled the gap left by the tree.
They were so efficient that by two o'clock Remus was calling, 'Hermione, I'm putting them in now!' and she looked over to see the small leather bag fall from his hand and down though the last uncovered portion of roof. It landed with a dull thud and she smiled. Then she levitated the last board up to Sirius, who sent it floating into place and transfigured it to fit; two nails from his pocket followed, and balanced themselves on their pointed end, and he drove them home with jet of light from his wand.
'Brilliant!' Hermione called, giving the pair of them a round of applause; they both laughed and bowed - with difficulty considering their position half-entangled in branches. 'Okay, come down and we'll have a cuppa before we start the charms,' Hermione said. She caught Sirius's uplit expression as they began to move back towards the trunk; he looked quite evil in the ghostly light.
'Race ya, Moony!' he said, scrambling along the branch.
'Sure,' Remus called back; though he was much further from the way down, he sounded very confident, and a second later Hermione knew why. He twisted sharply and vanished, appearing with a pop at Hermione's side. 'Cup of tea then?' he said casually.
Hermione burst out laughing, she wondered sometimes if she would miss Remus and his surprising sense of humour just as much as Sirius if she had to leave. Sirius joined them not long after, claiming a victory of honour over dirty cheating werewolf tactics. Hermione pointed out it was more wizarding convenience than anything else, and he sulked until she produced their rations for the evening and made him a cup of tea.
They had set up a makeshift campsite. The little tent from Hermione's bag was pitched off to one side and a jar brimming with bright blue flames gave them enough light to make tea and sort out the food by. They even played a couple of hands of poker in an effort to calm their nerves and fidgety excitement, which Hermione was surprised to see was even affecting the usually calm Remus. They needed to be focused when they began the next part of their task, so the more relaxed they were the better, Hermione thought. They were still running ahead of schedule when Hermione stood up and said, 'Shall we do it then?'
The Gaunt Shack was now made of a patchwork of overlapping flat boards, and looked nothing like a house at all, and was imposingly large compared to their only other test vehicle, the log they'd charmed in the glen months ago. The concentration involved in casting the containment meant that the previous cheerful atmosphere dissolved as they worked, squatting amongst the undergrowth in silence, magicking layer after layer of spell over the walls. Some time later the sun came up, and heavy clouds rolled in an hour or so later. After eight hours of the repetitive work, Hermione thought her hand was going to be performing the wand movement for the rest of her life – she barely had to think about it, it just seemed to do it over and over again. But they were still running early so it was probably worth the repetitive strain injury.
Sirius and Remus were up in the trees again finishing the roof, and Hermione decided it was time to check for gaps. They'd scrapped the plan to start from the bottom and go up, choosing instead to do a wall at a time, leaving one for last that would have the gap to cast the Fiendfyre through; at this point they still had one whole wall to go, but Hermione wanted to make sure they were doing enough before Remus left in case they had to go over the whole lot again.
She sent her orange colour spell at the house and was amazed - it didn't seep through at all, it just sat, hovering on the protective charm. It hit her then how lucky she was to have two such talented wizards to help her with this; their work on the roof was just as good as hers on the walls. She breathed a sigh of relief - they were nearly there.
With another hour's casting, only half the last wall remained and they took a break for another cup of tea, before it was time for Remus to leave for Godric's Hollow. Sirius and Remus were both munching on scones that Lily had sent over to the flat with Remus earlier in the week.
'Okay,' Remus said after he'd swallowed his last mouthful of tea, 'I better get going, his face was pale and set, and Hermione thought he looked a little ill.
'Are you going to be all right, Remus?' she asked as he stood up and brushed the scone crumbs from his lap.
'Yes,' he said, with a hasty grin; he must have realised that Hermione could tell he was worried. 'I just need to get all my nervous faces out now so I can sit in James's sitting room and be normal.' He made a series of ridiculous contorted expressions and Hermione and Sirius both laughed.
'Okay then, good luck,' she said. 'Remember, patronus to us as soon as Dumbledore gets to the house. Lily and James are going to have a lot of questions and I want to be there to make sure Dumbledore tells them the truth. You know what he can be like.'
'I do,' Remus nodded, swinging his bag over his shoulder. 'Now you two, stay focused,' he said sternly, 'we don't want to get off schedule because you had to have a shag in the bushes.' He was obviously trying very hard to keep a straight face, but it cracked at Hermione's expression.
Hermione was a little offended that Remus would even suggest such a thing, but Sirius was laughing so hard next to her, gasping for breath and slipping from his perch on the log onto the forest floor, that she couldn't help but smile. She looked at Remus 'You know I would never – '
'That wasn't a warning for you,' Remus chuckled, interrupting her.
Then as if to prove the point, Sirius wheezed, 'I've only been thinking about it all bloody night.'
Hermione and Remus both started to laugh in earnest, more at the sight of him clutching his sides in hysterics, rocking back and forth helplessly, than at anything Remus had said to set him off. Remus reached out and flicked him on the ear, causing Sirius to give a hiccoughing yelp. 'I'll see you in about six hours then,' Remus said.
Hermione stood and hugged him and he returned it tightly. 'Good luck,' she said.
Remus pulled back a little and said 'What for? I'm just going to a friend's place to have a cuppa.'
Hermione smiled, 'Yes I know, still good luck.'
'I'm right here you know,' Sirius said from behind them, recovered from his mirth attack and obviously not appreciating having to watch Hermione with her arms around another man.
'Turn around then,' Hermione said over her shoulder before she stretched up to kiss Remus on the cheek. 'Thank you so much,' she said as he blushed, 'we really couldn't have done this without you.'
'No problem,' he said gruffly, trying to wriggle away from her, 'now let go before Pads kills me.' Hermione smiled at him; she was tempted to keep him there because he looked so uncomfortable but withdrew her arms instead. He really didn't need more things to worry about right now. Remus strode over to where Sirius was still sitting on the forest floor and held out a hand to help him up. When Sirius took it, Remus yanked him up into a quick embrace, then let him go and said, 'There, nothing to worry about – apparently I hug people voluntarily now.'
Sirius chuckled, 'Don't I get a kiss?'
'Sorry mate,' Remus laughed, and reached out a hand to pat him on the shoulder, 'maybe next time.'
Sirius shoved him away, still grinning. 'Away with you then, we'll see you soon – and remember, shield charm before Lily finds out what we did!'
Remus grinned too. 'Got it,' he said with a nod, and then he turned on the spot and was gone.
Sirius looked questioningly over at Hermione, and she knew the sly little grin on his face at once. 'Absolutely not,' she said firmly. 'Now come on, we've just got this side left to do.' Sirius looked very disappointed but he followed her back through the trees without complaint.
Remus was quite proud of his natural-seeming casual behaviour in the Potter's presence so far that afternoon. James had given him a couple of odd looks when a sudden noise would make Remus turn quickly to discover its source, but fortunately tended to chalk the jumpiness up to Remus's usual paranoid personality, rather than figuring out that a murderous bastard was on his way to do them in. The time had passed surprisingly quickly. Remus had expected the wait for said murderous bastard to drag, but then he supposed that things you didn't want to happen always seemed to approach awfully quickly, so maybe he shouldn't actually be surprised at all.
He had seen James and Lily quite a lot during the last two weeks because Lily had asked for Remus's help in teaching the Fidelius charm to Peter. This wasn't for Remus's excellence in charms - though he was quite good - but because while Lily was very clever, she was not the most patient of tutors. Remus had been afraid that his presence would change the course of events, since last time Lily most certainly wouldn't have asked for his teaching skills when they all thought him a traitorous werewolf, but he needn't have worried; the charm was complex, and even he struggled with the effort it took to make it work - Peter hadn't stood a chance.
'Are you staying for dinner, Remus?' Lily called from the kitchen.
James nodded and said with a smile, 'You have to Moony - Harry will be gutted if you take away his new favourite toy.' He and Remus were sitting on the couch with the small form of Harry squished between them. They had kept the not quite year-and-a-half- year-old entertained for over half an hour with a demonstration of how to shuffle Remus's deck of cards. Harry did seem to like the cards very much; not for shuffling so much as for throwing, or - more likely, Remus thought - for the fun of seeing every thrown card come zooming back toward them with a flick from either James's or Remus's wand, and trying to catch it before one of the men could.
'Thanks Lily,' Remus called back, knowing that it was unlikely they would actually be sitting down for a relaxed meal with Voldemort dead in the road outside, and Sirius and Hermione arriving to tell Lily and James that they had been bait in the whole elaborate scheme. Remus was not looking forward to that conversation. He'd been practicing shield charms with his new wand ever since he got it because he was quite sure that he and Sirius would bear the brunt of Lily's rage, and castration was not high on his list of things he wanted to achieve in his life. James was a big-picture kind of bloke, so Remus hoped that he might understand; that his son had been put at risk might make him think twice, but Remus suspected that ultimately James would just want to know how they'd managed it – and would probably be excited to have a dead Voldemort lying in his street.
The thing that played on Remus's mind the most that afternoon was the conversation he had overheard between Dumbledore and Moody. He had not mentioned it to Hermione or Sirius for fear that he had misunderstood what was being said and it would cause his friends to panic unnecessarily, but he felt incredibly guilty for keeping it from them. It was one of the reasons he didn't want Dumbledore knowing about Frederica's arrangements; if the old wizard did indeed tell Hermione she had to leave when they met this evening, Remus wanted to have a plan to spring on Dumbledore so that he would be taken by surprise and not be able to veto it.
The other reason he didn't want Dumbledore involved was that ever since Remus and stolen Hermione's Timeturner – which thankfully he'd been able to put back while trapped in Sirius's flat the morning he a gotten his new wand – Remus had been uncomfortable around the Headmaster. He worried what Dumbledore would ask of him next, and that he seemed unfazed about Remus's objections to stealing from his friends, and that he assumed because Remus felt he owed the man for his education and subsequent worthwhile life, that Remus would do whatever was asked. The worst part about it being that it was entirely true – he would do whatever Dumbledore asked of him.
'You'd better not be teaching him to gamble,' Lily's said, interrupting Remus's dreary thoughts. She had entered the sitting room with a wet facecloth in one hand and a pair of small blue pyjamas in the other. She tossed the pyjamas into Remus's lap and the facecloth to James; it hit him square in the face with a sodden splat. She smirked as Harry giggled and she said, 'Because really, you're terrible at cards; I'd much rather he learnt from Sirius.' James gave her a disgruntled look and she said, 'Harry can skip his bath tonight, I don't want to deal with squeals so you two can sort him out.'
James began to wipe Harry's face and fingers with the cloth and muttered in mock annoyance, 'Isn't your mum lazy?'
Lily laughed, 'I am today. I've just put the stew on, it will be ready in an hour. If you need me I'll be reading upstairs til then.'
'We don't need her do we son?' James asked Harry who was squirming under his father's ministrations as Lily left the room smiling to herself. 'Except for the food,' James added as he stripped off Harry's jumper. 'I don't think Padfoot would come and cook us sausages every night.'
By the time Harry was wiped down and dressed for bed Remus was feeling considerably more nervous. It had started to rain, and it was hard to see down the road clearly. He assumed Dumbledore was out there somewhere hidden under the cloak; hopefully the Headmaster was entertaining himself somehow, as squatting in a stranger's bushes would surely be rather uninspiring after a while. The overcast sky was quite dark already, though there was a backlit section of clouds off to the west that told him the sun was only just beginning to set. It wouldn't be much longer now, Remus thought, and then he nearly hit the ceiling as he jumped in fright when there was a loud whining screech from outside. A sporty-looking red car hurtled past the front gate in the direction of the village and Remus took a few breaths to calm himself.
James laughed from behind him, 'I'm glad I'm not the only one! That wanker moved in at the end of the street about a month ago and I'm still not used to his contraption and its racket, scares the shit out of me every time. Idiot should try a broom, twice as fast and silent. Much more fun.'
'Huh, yeah,' Remus said, still a little in shock from the unexpected disturbance, 'and they can fly.'
'Exactly,' James agreed, Remus turned to see him sitting on the sofa with Harry on his knee. He waved his wand and muttered, saying 'Green!' as green smoke puffed out the tip of his wand. Harry clapped his chubby hands together making the smoke disperse and James repeated the spell, 'Red!' he said as red smoke appeared. Harry seemed far more interested in trying to catch the smoke than learning colours. This was one of the games Lily insisted James play with their son - she was determined her boy would be some kind of genius, though Remus wondered how much the little boy could learn when James tended to get bored of the normal colours and start producing ones like vermillion and azure.
Remus smiled as he watched the father and son, glad that the game involved James having his wand in his hand. That was Remus's role here after all, to make sure they were ready, just in case. He wondered if Peter had escaped from the Death Eaters in his animagus form yet; he hoped that he had, and was hiding on schedule. Remus was not a violent person by nature but Sirius had mentioned going to find Peter after Hallowe'en and Remus was very much looking forward to the confrontation. It didn't matter that Peter had tried to be loyal; in Remus's opinion being loyal was not something you gave your best go at – you either were because it was right, or you weren't because it was easy. He also wondered where Voldemort was now... probably getting in a spot of torture practice on some less-faithful supporters to pass the time until he set out for Godric's Hollow, and his death.
Lord Voldemort examined the brooch in the failing afternoon light. It would be the final piece, and what a piece it was: goblin-wrought silver, said to be close to a millennium old, ancient, fine and beautiful, and in mere hours it would be even more so. Although he had felt at times that he would never reach his goal, it was now a reality. Lord Voldemort understood the value of patience. He knew what could be gained if you were to wait for the right moment, the point in time that would turn your act from the mildly-gratifying murder of a child and termination of the irksome prophesy, into the most remembered event in wizarding history – the moment in time Lord Voldemort became infallible, his soul a locked and permanent part of the mysticism of the universe. There was almost poetry in mind as he thought of the significance, the wonder this evening would hold. It was not often that Lord Voldemort described his inner feelings as sanguine, but this afternoon had been the exception. The final hurdle was so close and nearly surmounted.
His spy's attempt at double-dealing had cracked so easily that Voldemort was almost disappointed - he did enjoy a challenge and Pettigrew certainly wasn't that. He had been briefly disheartened to learn that the key to the boy was not Black; he wished very much to finish what he started there, but this task was not about personal fulfilment and the outcome was the same, the spy had folded and he knew where to find them now. Black could be dealt with soon, Black and the Fehr girl, his oddly insignificant enemies; for all that Black had taunted him, for all that he swore to never join and that she wouldn't either, they were quietly faded to the background. Fehr had vanished off the face of the earth for all Voldemort could tell; none of his followers had made any headway on her, and so Voldemort would wait - because after tonight they would fall, all of his enemies, for he was about to conquer the only one who had the power to vanquish him.
He tucked the brooch away in the inside pocket of his robes. How would he spend his remaining hour, the last hour before he was unstoppable, the most infamous wizard in Britain, and soon the world? Sunset on ancient feast of All Hallows Eve seemed a very fitting time to achieve his goal, and so he would wait. He thought it was his duty to make this event into something dramatic and historical, because when it was recorded and the story told to wizarding children for generations to come, they deserved to have an exciting and poignant tale of the point in time their world was saved, and their heritage preserved. Truly, if the wizarding population thought that Voldemort and his Death Eaters had been forceful in their message thus far, more was yet to come. Once this final task was completed Voldemort would be unleashing a whole new level of strength. It was time for the Death Eaters to move into the open.
It had begun to rain in Little Hangleton not long after Remus had left them. Sirius wondered if weather reports had been part of Hermione's research, because although they had worked in the downpour to finish the final area of the house, they now sat warm and dry inside the little tent she had brought with her. Sirius looked at his watch - half an hour until Riddle's estimated arrival in Godric's Hollow. 'Are you nervous?' he asked Hermione. She was sitting next to him, leaning against his side, her eyes fixed on the boarded-up and still faintly orange Gaunt shack. Sirius felt quite unsettled sitting there with the rain plunking heavily on the canvas roof of the tent. The twisted moss-covered tree trunks and tumbledown building were the only things he could see from this vantage point; the sky had been dark with clouds last time he had seen it, and the closely packed forest made it seem even darker - it was a very lonely place.
'Yes,' Hermione said quietly, 'but not about the fire - you and Remus did a brilliant job, really you probably could have managed without me. '
Sirius laughed, and the sound was so out of place in the forlorn setting that he stopped. 'Yeah I'm sure. So what are you nervous about then?'
Dumbledore for a start,' she sighed. 'Not about the fight, I'm sure he'll be able to beat Riddle, but I worry what he's going to tell James and Lily, and Remus has been so weird about keeping Frederica's plan from him it just makes me wonder if he knows something.' She paused and then said thoughtfully, 'The Remus I knew always trusted Dumbledore, so much so that he was willing to trust Snape simply because Dumbledore told him to; the fact that he doesn't want to involve him at all now has me a little concerned.'
Sirius hadn't thought of this. 'You know, you're right... Moony has been a bit funny about him lately.' Then he chuckled to himself, 'Maybe he's just worried Dumbledore will steal Lady Fehr from him.'
Hermione gave a reluctant giggle, 'I can think of one definite problem with that theory.'
'Hmm,' Sirius said, 'true. I dunno then.' Hermione didn't reply, and Sirius wanted to move away from Horcruxes and depressing conversations about not trusting people, so he asked flippantly, 'So what are you getting me for my birthday?'
'Er … nothing,' Hermione said, giving him a funny look at the unexpected change in topic. 'You didn't get me anything.'
A good point, Sirius thought, but said anyway, 'I threw you a party.'
'No, Remus organised that,' Hermione countered, before saying dryly, 'I have an extravaganza planned for him in March, to say thank you.'
Sirius nudged her with his elbow and grinned, 'Really? He'd hate that.'
She smiled, too. 'I know, but you'll be jealous, and he'll think that's quite funny, so it's a fine gift.'
'That's true,' Sirius agreed, thinking that even though she was joking she was right; Moony would find it funny and Sirius would most definitely be jealous if Remus got a party and he didn't. 'So have you really got me nothing?' Sirius wheedled, 'It's only five days away.'
Hermione rolled her eyes, 'When would I have been shopping? Not allowed to leave the house, remember.'
'You could owl order me something,' Sirius muttered sullenly, wondering why he cared so much, considering he'd really only been kidding when he'd brought it up.
'No I couldn't, I don't have any money,' Hermione reminded him. 'It doesn't really seem right to ask you for gold to buy your own birthday present.'
'Alright,' Sirius granted, slightly happier after hearing her reasoning, 'I'll let you off this year, but once you have your high-paying Ministry job I'll expect something grand in reparation.'
'Sure thing,' Hermione said, amused. 'So what's your excuse then? You have gold and were out and about all the time before my birthday, seems awfully slack of you.' She raised her eyebrows at him expectantly.
'I thought it would seem too forward.' Sirius mumbled, regretting starting the stupid conversation in the first place.
Hermione's expression softened considerably and she asked, 'Really?'
Sirius was quite annoyed at himself for feeling embarrassed, 'Yeah, and I didn't know what to get you, and I didn't really know what was going on then, so I just sort of left it. Sorry.'
'Don't be,' Hermione said lightly, 'I was only turning two, hardly a milestone birthday.'
Sirius grimaced, 'That makes me feel a little creepy you know.'
'You need to get over that,' Hermione said in a slightly impatient tone, 'because if Frederica says no, I'm probably going to have to go back, and I'd quite like to continue this, you know… if you don't find someone else in the meantime.'
Back to depressing, Sirius thought, but he grinned, determined to drive away the uncomfortable feeling the rainy forest gave him and said, 'Well even if I did, I'd know you were coming so I'd make sure she was hidden under the bed.' Hermione was quiet for a moment and Sirius began to think he'd just made a very inappropriate joke. Thankfully the rain was coming down relentlessly now, interrupting what would surely have been an awkward silence – leading to a telling off no doubt– but she surprised him.
'Okay, now I'm going to want to look under every bed always,' she laughed, 'because that is just too creepy.'
'It is a bit isn't it?' he said, and unable to help himself he added, 'Maybe she can go in the wardrobe.'
'Sirius,' Hermione said still laughing, 'I know you're just being an idiot,' she jogged him with her elbow and then sobered slightly as she continued, 'but twenty years is a long time. I really don't expect you to be a monk.'
Sirius was taken aback to hear her say this. Shouldn't she want him to wait for her? 'That sounds like a challenge,' he said, 'are you trying to say I couldn't do it?'
'No,' Hermione said; her lips twitched for a second and he knew she was just humouring him, 'just that it's not really fair to ask you to, that's all.'
Sirius had always found Hermione a bit hard to read, and usually when he thought he finally had her reactions pinned down she would go and do something that caused him to rethink his assumptions, like this for example. It was best to be direct. 'Would you do it for me?'
'I'd try,' Hermione said, obviously startled into honesty by Sirius's cunning ploy of just asking what he meant for once. She looked at him with a slight frown and said hesitantly, 'So I guess that's all I could ask of you.'
Continuing with this novel new method for gaining real answers Sirius asked, 'But aren't you supposed to want me to say I'll wait? That there'll never be anyone else –'
She cut him off with a huff and looked away, back to the shack and its faded orange coating. 'I don't know what I'm supposed to say,' she said icily, 'I haven't seen the guide book for this conversation.' But she seemed to realise quickly that he hadn't meant to offend her because she put her hand on his knee and said in a much less agitated tone, 'I just want you to be happy, and for me to be happy – that was the whole point of this, that my friends and their families would live happy lives.' She gave him a little half smile. 'So if you would be happy being a lonely celibate bloke for twenty years then yes, that's fine,' she said, 'but if you want to live, that's fine too.'
Sirius suddenly understood the reason she would never give him a definite opinion on this – she was being realistic. As usual, he thought. It was Hermione after all, and twenty years was a long time; she was not some romantic dreamer with ridiculous notions of desire spanning eternity... well, two decades really, but it might as well be. Really Hermione just wanted to live, and for everyone else to be able to do the same. Very pleased with himself for figuring all this out and having had quite enough of serious conversation – she was looking little concerned at his prolonged silence – he grinned and in an effort to show her he was back to his normal self he asked, 'Are you trying to break up with me?'
'No,' she snorted, then with a wicked little smirk she said, 'it's just that I wouldn't want to be the first in twenty years – might blow my head off.'
For a split second Sirius just stared at her in shock, before he began to laugh - what had he done to the polite girl she used to be? As she giggled at her own joke, and probably the stunned look on his face, he decided it didn't matter because he liked this one much better anyway. 'Well, in that case I'll do my best to be unfaithful,' he said chuckling at the ridiculousness of the statement.
Then Hermione leaned over and kissed him. It wasn't the sort of kiss he gotten used to over the last few weeks, one that would distract him from almost anything else, but it wasn't a particularly innocent one either. 'Don't try too hard,' she said as she pulled away.
Sirius didn't say it aloud because it sounded extremely sappy even in his head, but he thought that he would have to try quite hard to be able to be with anyone else at all after her.
'Come on,' Hermione said as she got to her feet a moment later, 'we might as well get started. We need to pack all this up before we light the fyre, and we've only got fifteen minutes until sunset.'
Sirius followed her, bent double out of the tent, and they began to break their little camp. It didn't take long and soon Sirius was back to feeling like a pack mule as he lugged their rucksacks to the designated safe point halfway up the little valley. He was soaked within minutes, and by the time he reached the front of the shack where Hermione was waiting, there was chilly rain water dripping from his hair and down the back of his neck. 'Hey, why do you get to stay dry?' he asked her through chattering teeth – because she was, the rain didn't seem to touch her. He shook his sopping hair in her direction and she smiled before pointing her wand at him.
'Because I think ahead,' she said, the wand in her hand flicked and he suddenly felt warm and dry and then she muttered 'Impervious'. He held out his hand in front of him and even though he could see the rain hitting it he still felt dry.
'You have a bloody answer for everything.' Sirius grumbled, feeling a bit foolish for not thinking of it himself.
'Sorry about that,' Hermione said, with a smile at his grumpy face, 'now, are you ready?'
'Yes,' he said, and the realisation hit him suddenly - this was it! Hermione met his eyes for a second and then with an odd little grin she snatched his hand and squeezed it briefly. She released it without another word and pointed her wand at the miniscule gap in the containment field. Sirius copied her – his job was to help close the gap as quickly as possible.
Hermione was breathing slowly and deeply, completely focused on the task; the rain was coming down harder than ever now, the mulchy ground at their feet turning to mud, then before he knew it Hermione counted down, 'Three … two … one!' and there was a flash of yellow from the tip of her wand. Sirius began to cast the containment charm at once; suddenly his heart was racing, and he couldn't think of anything but the charm, and the echo of Hermione doing it too, backing him up.
In seconds the fyre was straining against the previous weak point looking for escape, but to no avail – it was trapped. Hermione was holding his hand again, pulling him back. She had been right, this was different from the fire at the glen, sharper, louder, and more vicious, and the creatures made of flame grew in size more quickly, scampering up the walls of the shack. He couldn't tear his eyes away; the sight was quite amazing – horrifically frightening, but amazing - the flames had reached the heavily-patched roof already, and the dwelling hissed and crackled under the onslaught. There was black, sick-looking smoke curling though the monsters as they feasted on the building, but it, too, was trapped in the protective field. Hermione tugged at his hand again and this time Sirius retreated with her.
'Five more minutes,' she said, 'then the field will start to close.' It was bizarre to watch – the roaring fire unaffected by the pelting rain. They stood in awed silence as the blaze raged on; Hermione had wrapped her arm around his waist and was leaning against him. At the five minute mark the containment charm did indeed begin to close, and Hermione grinned up at him - Merlin he was glad he'd been involved in this, Tom Riddle's soul burning before their eyes, and it was all because of them - then there was a low rumble that vibrated out from the fire Sirius could feel the ground beneath his feet begin to tremble. Hermione's grin faltered and her face paled; the low rumble had changed, winding up to a keening wail. The pitch grated inside him and made Sirius want to cover his ears though he knew it would do no good. The fyre, that had been mottled-black smoke and writhing shades of orange flame, was suddenly completely bright again, the containment swelling and shrinking as the demons within heaved against their restraint like some monstrous singular entity breathing sinister fiery air.
'Shit, shit, shit,' Hermione muttered under her breath 'It's not going to hold, Sirius, it's not going to-' but he couldn't hear the rest of her sentence over the morbid bawling of the trapped beasts. The awful sound built until a blast from the centre of the fyre echoed about the valley, it shook the trees and sent little waves of muddy surface water lapping over Sirius's boots. It was so loud he was sure the sound of it would travel to the little village just on the other side of the hill. He wondered for a moment what the muggles would think was going on; if the light from the fire was visible too they would probably just think that it was someone celebrating Guy Fawkes Night a week early. Weird muggles and their terrorism holidays, Sirius thought. The only reason he knew about it at all was that it was a celebration focused on burning stuff, a topic he had always enjoyed.
After a few more seconds of panicked murmuring Hermione started forward, but then the house within the charm crumbled to nothing with a surprisingly mundane crash, and all that remained was the blackened framework. The containment continued to shrink, smaller and smaller until the fiery creatures sounded like they were dying.
'It's okay,' he said to Hermione, 'look, it's okay.' And it was; soon the fire was nothing more than a bonfire, then with a final cawing howl, it vanished, the Gaunt shack with it, and there was nothing.
'Come on,' Hermione said, urgently dragging him back down towards the site. There was no trace of the blaze - nothing, just boggy forest floor, like the hovel had never even existed. She turned to look at him, a very wide and relieved smile on her face. 'They're gone,' she whispered, 'Sirius, we did it!' and then she threw her arms around him with such force that he swayed and his feet slid in the mud, as Hermione laughed with relief in his ear. The rain was still pouring down, and he was cold, tired, and ankle deep in leafy sludge, but Sirius didn't think he'd ever been happier in all his life – Voldemort was half dead.
A/N: Wasn't I quick? Well you have Emily to thank - a 24hour turn around, or less even, more like 18 I think, either way what a bloody miracle!
This is it until i get back from the beach for Christmas/New Year Holiday, where there is lots of lovely sand and sun but unfortunately no internet. Merry Christmas wonderful readers xxx
