The pain was unbearable… Harry stood above the sink in his bathroom, close to vomiting for a second time tonight as he clenched his eyes shut. Echoes of agony coursed through his body, causing him to shudder uncontrollably, his aching limbs barely supporting him. Every inch of his skin felt as though it had been torn by rough, broken pieces of metal, but not a drop of blood spilt from his seemingly frayed veins. His head was throbbing, his hands were unable to clench the sink beneath his fingers with any strength, and his lungs were refusing to take in air properly…

Three and a half weeks had passed since Harry escaped from Grindelwald's fortress. Harry's healing had begun to decline about a week ago, but it hadn't seemed like a problem to him at the time. Even Tom had assumed that his recovery from torture would start up again soon, for he thought that Harry's body was just at a sort of standstill. He had given Harry stronger potions and medicines when his health began to worsen completely, but as the days passed by even these remedies weren't enough.

Harry had felt only a dull pain in his body a few days ago. This had gotten worse, but Harry was bewildered as he stood in this cold bathroom now, feeling sicker than he could remember being since the night he came home. He didn't know what was wrong with him and he didn't know why Tom's medicine wasn't working. Tom had fed him potion after potion the last few days, yet here Harry was, unable to control his trembling body…

It was only a minute or two since getting out of bed when Harry heard Tom standing behind him. Harry didn't know whether it was his audible breath and vomiting or his general absence in bed that caused Tom to search for him, but he supposed the answer was irrelevant. Tom walked further into the bathroom to stand besides him, placing a hand on his back in reassurance. The bathroom was dark and cold, but neither of them particularly cared while they worried about the problem at hand.

"Are the potions weakening?" Tom asked softly.

Harry couldn't speak for a moment. His eyes were still closed while he tried to appear less sick than he really was. "I'll manage," he muttered in response, not trusting his proper voice.

"If the pain is getting worse, we will merely have to increase the medicine," Tom said quietly, blatantly noticing Harry's evasion while he was fooled by his act. "I'll give you twice the dose of a Sleeping Potion after I add more blood of Re'em in the draught of li–"

Tom stopped talking when his free hand found one of Harry's. His fingers touched the back of Harry's hand only very lightly, as though he feared he might hurt him with any slight pressure. Harry had been clenching the sides of the sink in a struggle against pain, and Tom was frozen in fear when he felt this.

"You're shaking…"

Harry swiftly tried to think of an excuse for this. "It's cold…"

"You wouldn't have vomited from the cold alone," Tom noted slowly. He was realizing, slowly, just how sick Harry must be. "You are very unwell…"

"I'll be fine," Harry whispered. He pulled away from Tom while he struggled to stop his hands from shaking. It was difficult to stand up without the support of the sink, but Harry tried to anyway. "I'll be perfectly fine…"

When Harry faced Tom the latter took the chance to withdraw his wand, to see precisely how sick Harry was. The magic Tom used wasn't painful at all, but merely standing up turned out to be uncomfortable for Harry. He tried not to move at all, because it hurt when he did. He waited for about thirty seconds for Tom to say something… but he was silent. The magic had stopped, so Harry opened his eyes.

It took a few seconds to adjust to the dim light of the bathroom, but when Harry lifted his gaze to his lover he could see clearly enough. One look into Tom's eyes told Harry that there wasn't much good news relating to his physical state. Tom was unable to do more than stare in silence. He appeared far more awake than before and far more frightened as he gazed into the bloodshot and strained emerald eyes before him…

When Tom turned away, unable to bear what he had just discovered, Harry knew that his worst fear had been confirmed. Tom visibly tried to gather himself as he ran his fingers through his already disarrayed hair, pacing the room – which he always did in distress.

"I must leave for England at once," Tom declared in an undertone. "I must seek out the best Healers to fix this…"

"You don't have to do that," Harry said weakly. "We'll be able to fix this – together we can do it, no matter what's wrong."

"I've been trying everything I can, but you're now sicker than ever!" Tom exclaimed, unable to meet Harry's eyes while he spoke. "We need help, we need to be sure you'll heal from this…"

"But–but you know all about these things!" Harry stammered. "You know how to brew potions better than anyone I've seen and healing – healing has never been a problem for you!"

"Yet this is what alarms me," Tom expressed, "this is what confuses and panics me…"

Harry analyzed Tom closely. He felt as though Tom's every movement reflected his own worry. He didn't want Tom to leave him alone here. He couldn't imagine getting much more sick than he was now and he couldn't imagine Tom lacking the skills to heal him. Harry was worried about his health, but he didn't want to bring more people into this – especially not when Grindelwald's followers were waiting outside for any of them to come out in the open.

"If I leave now, I'll be able to speak to people in England by tonight," Tom said, thinking about this a great deal. "I'll be back in three days at the most."

"Three days?" Harry repeated. He disliked the idea of even one day alone with the Death Eaters. "How am I supposed to look after your friends for three days like this?"

"I'll put one of them in charge with clear instructions," Tom explained. "As incompetent as they are, they won't have to do anything when I'm gone."

"I don't want you to go," Harry voiced, dreading the idea of no help or reassurance when he would feel mist ill. "This will all go away, and then we–"

"This will not simply go away!" Tom exclaimed in frustration. He turned to face Harry now, appearing impatient. "This isn't something that will heal itself, no matter how much easier it would be to believe this! You're sicker than ever and none of my potions are helping – none of the spells I've been using are working even remotely! Something within you is rejecting all treatment and if we cannot find out why, you – you're going to…"

But Tom couldn't seem to continue after this.

Harry felt anxiety swirl within him, but he tried to ignore it. He refused to believe that Tom's suggestions were anything more than panicked exaggerations. How could it be true that Harry might die from this, as Tom blatantly meant? He had been through so much in the past, so why should he die now, when he was so recently healing? These questions brought Harry solace in a moment of complete panic, so he couldn't help but doubt Tom's fear. He couldn't help but hope…

"I won't die from this," Harry assured Tom in a shaking voice, trying to convince himself more than anything. His tone wasn't very convincing. "The pain won't kill me."

"But it will get worse," Tom expressed, gazing at Harry solicitously from a few paces away. He examined Harry's weary eyes, as well as the slightly cowering angle at which he stood while he tried in vein to lessen the agony. Harry knew that Tom saw his hands shaking by his sides, and he heard that his breath was shallow while he attempted to stand up straighter. Harry couldn't put on a convincing act of healthiness because the evidence of his sickness was simply too visible. Even if Tom hadn't examined Harry already, he would have known that he was very sick.

Tom stepped forwards to take one of Harry's shaking hands in his own. He brought the hand to his lips, kissing it gently.

"It is unlikely that you'll get sicker within the next three days," Tom assured him quietly, reaching up his other hand to touch Harry's face. "I'll be able to heal you far sooner with help. I'll come home as soon as I can."

"I know," Harry said weakly. "I… I'm just scared of being alone."

Something in his words made Tom take another step forwards, perhaps involuntarily. "I'll have the others stay near you, if you wish. I'll leave stronger potions for you to take in the next few days, to lessen the pain before you can be properly healed."

Harry closed his eyes and nodded, feeling too nauseous to argue by this point. He gave into the reassurance of Tom's words without a fight, enjoying the comfort he felt beyond his worry about Tom getting hurt…

"You should go back to sleep," Tom advised softly. "It's not yet six in the morning."

He began leading Harry carefully forwards. Harry didn't object, no matter how ill it made him feel to walk out of his bathroom and towards his bed. When Harry was in bed, he relished in the comfort of the blankets and pillows around him. His whole body ached and he could barely think straight behind his closed eyes. There was only one thing that bothered him.

"Take some of the others with you," he implored, squeezing Tom's hand lightly. "I'd feel better if they went with you to England…"

Tom contemplated this request as he stood besides Harry's bed, gazing down at his lover. When he spoke, his voice was low. "If you would prefer it, I would be glad to take a few of them with me."

Harry nodded, but regretted this action as soon as he felt his head pounding in discomfort. When Tom's hand slipped away from his own, Harry opened his eyes. Tom was wasting no time in getting ready, evidently wishing to find a particular Healer as soon as he could. He headed across the room towards a chest of drawers and picked up a small glass container full of powerful a soothing solution, as well as a larger container full of sleeping potion.

"Take these," Tom urged, heading for Harry's bed and kneeling besides it. "I'll make sure that you have more than enough of this while I'm gone."

"Thanks…"

Tom passed the glass container into Harry's hands. Harry was about to drink the potions, before Tom leant forwards to kiss him delicately. "I love you," Tom whispered.

"I love you too," Harry mirrored just as softly.

Harry wanted Tom to stay, but he knew it couldn't be stopped when Tom moved away from his bedside. He was evidently keen to take a quick shower before getting changed. Harry watched Tom head towards the bathroom before he, Harry, drank the potions in his hands. The taste wasn't all that bad, to his relief. By the time Tom finished showering, Harry's eyelids began to feel awfully heavy… Tom was packing a small trunk, making sure he had everything he needed. Harry found himself slowly drifting off to sleep. He was glad of the chance to feel less pain again…

–X–

The sky was dark and ominous. Clouds full of snow obscured the moon and stars on this cold December evening and the window in front of Harry displayed almost nothing but darkness. Two days had passed since Tom left for England. Harry was feeling only a little better. The immensely strong potions that Harry was taking numbed the pain enough so he could walk around, but he still preferred to not move at all if he could help it. He would almost feel healthy again that way…

The only reason Harry was out of bed at this time was because he couldn't fall asleep, or rest in any way. Neither agony nor excess energy was to blame for this, however. Harry was tired and numbed enough to sleep, but he felt that there was something wrong. He stood before one of the wide windows of his bedroom, the curtains drawn aside. His bedroom was at the back of his house, so he couldn't see any of the other buildings on this land. He had a nice view in the daytime, but he regretted his choice in scenery while he dwelt upon a number of daunting things this evening…

Harry had worried initially that his unexplainable anxiety meant something bad had happened to Tom, but even with medicine Harry felt he would feel Tom's discomfort more clearly. There was nothing physically bothering Harry. Even the subtle sounds of the Death Eaters downstairs were of no annoyance. No, there was just an unseen, unheard, unknown something that kept Harry on edge. It prevented any calm state of mind, no matter how much Harry would like to close his eyes for a few more hours. Tom would be home by then…

Harry shivered a little while he stood in front of the window, thinking. He had been standing here for the last twenty minutes or so, unsure what he was waiting for. He knew he really ought to go back to bed… It was only around eleven O'clock at night and Tom wouldn't be home for a few hours yet. Harry had been anticipating his return for a day and a half now, despite knowing he would be gone for three days. Harry knew he would see Tom seemingly sooner if he went to bed… but in spite of this he still felt no desire to rest.

After about five minutes more of aimlessly staring out of his bedroom window, Harry decided to go downstairs. He told himself that he was merely being paranoid in Tom's absence. He needed something to distract him… and for the first time in memory, Harry was glad to find around seven Death Eaters sitting at his kitchen table, playing cards.

Harry supposed that Tom had strongly encouraged his friends to stay in this house while he, Tom, was away. Harry didn't mind much, for the only thing that the Death Eaters did was play Wizarding cards and idly waste time. It vaguely made Harry feel better to have other people wandering about, at any rate.

"'You alright Jonathan?" Avery asked distractedly when he saw Harry enter the room.

"I'm fine, thanks," Harry responded, taking a spare seat at the table. He didn't feel as though he needed any food or drink, nor any more potions. He was restless.

"I hope we weren't being too loud," Lestrange said not quite apologetically as he dealt cards. "I tried to shut Avery up, but he wouldn't be quiet about his views on why Faeries and Pixies should be considered the same creature. The sad thing is, he doesn't seem to know the difference between the two."

Avery scowled at Lestrange from across the table.

"The talking didn't wake me up," Harry responded honestly. "I couldn't sleep anyway."

"Do you want to play?" Nott offered. "We definitely have room for you."

"No thanks…"

The Death Eaters appeared subtly relieved at his unwillingness to join the game. From what Harry could remember, the last time he and Tom played cards with the Death Eaters all of Tom's friends had withdrawn from the game as soon as the first one was brave enough to – after losing a good few hundred Galleons. Harry found it amusing to play cards, but not when Tom was gone, and not when he felt ill.

"When will Tom be back, do you reckon?" Avery asked, as he reorganized the cards in his hand. Harry watched Nott staring at Avery's movements from the other side of the table. By moving his cards into order, Avery was unknowingly showing what hand he could have.

"He should be back in a few hours," Harry answered. "By tomorrow morning at most."

"Where's he gone, exactly?" Avery wondered aloud, speaking as informally as always.

"To search for some Wizards who might know what's wrong with me," Harry explained, wondering why Avery hadn't guessed this before. Maybe he was merely confirming it…

"I know that," Avery mentioned. "What I mean is; how's he gonna get someone to find out what's wrong with you if you're here?"

"He's going to bring the Healers here, obviously," Lestrange answered for Harry, appearing annoyed at Avery's needless questions.

"I was only asking!" Avery said indignantly.

"But I don't see why you feel the need to ask this at all," Lestrange expressed, glaring at both Avery and the cards he held. "The answer is obvious."

"But if Tom can't fix it, Jonathan must be really sick," Avery observed. "Tom has fixed loads of injuries before, so I'm just wondering what must have happened in that place to make Jonathan so sick. Unless Tom is too scared to risk–"

"Avery," Lestrange interrupted in a warning tone.

"What?"

Lestrange, Nott, Gonson, Dolohov, Rosier, and Gibbon all looked from Avery to Harry, appearing apprehensive. Harry stared at Avery, annoyed by not being directly addressed, no matter how little he cared about the Death Eater's inquiries about Tom's strength in power and will.

"I'm just saying," Avery began defensively, noticing his friends' awkwardness. "Either those Grindelwald freaks did a good job of torturing Jonathan, or Tom don't wanna do something wrong in healing Jonathan properly."

"It's doesn't, Avery," Lestrange corrected him in exasperation, "not don't."

"Whatever," Avery dismissed. He turned to Harry once more. "So did they torture you, or what?"

Harry watched as Rosier covered his face with his hands, Nott looked away nervously, and Gonson appeared close to shouting at Avery anxiously so he would stop asking questions. Gonson has been left in charge, because though he was often mute in such conversations, he had an apparent power over the Death Eaters because he was older than a lot of them.

Despite all of the Death Eaters feeling unsure about this conversation, they were secretly eager to hear some details about what had happened to Harry a month ago. This could be seen in their very open minds. Harry was feeling warmer than he ought to in this cold kitchen, but he knew this was unrelated to the conversation he was having. His heart pulsed sickeningly and he felt generally ill. He decided he needed to answer Avery's inquiries.

"Tom's reason for finding help is a mix of the two explanations you mentioned earlier," Harry elucidated shortly. "'Those Grindelwald Freaks' did do a good job in making sure I had close to no chance of survival, and because of that Tom only trusts a professional Healer to work out what is still making me sick."

"He certainly cares a lot," Avery commented.

Harry hesitated before responding to this. "No more than he'd care about any of you getting sick."

"Nah, he never cares 'bout us when we're sick," Avery voiced almost apathetically. "He'll fix us when we're hurt too much to work, but he just gets annoyed 'bout us getting ill, normally. We can't get a cold around here without him blaming us for not being careful enough."

"I actually agree with Avery on this one," Lestrange admitted in his usual drawling tone. "Tom used to care about us at Hogwarts, but our health is irrelevant when there are no teachers around… He pays you a lot more attention, I've seen."

"In what way?" Harry asked curiously.

"This house is an example," Lestrange voiced simply, focusing on his cards for a moment. The game was very slow. "Only you and him have houses of your own."

Harry struggled for a moment to find a way to smooth over this suggestion. He felt bad for the Death Eaters… but he knew he couldn't do anything for them this very moment. He would be wiser to use this opportunity to justify Tom's favouritism. "That's different."

"How so?"

Harry tried to think of something – anything – to use as an excuse for this. He couldn't believe he had never spoken to Tom about this before… "Tom never expected to have to keep everyone here for this long… He didn't expect anyone to stay for longer than a few days or weeks at a time."

Lestrange gave Harry his full attention now. "Why should that mean you get a house while we don't?"

"Well, I don't have anywhere else to go," Harry reminded the Death Eaters, only thinking about this seconds before he said it. "This is where I'll be for however long it takes before Tom moves somewhere else, for everyone to follow."

The others thought about this. After a time, they seemed to decide that this was a perfectly rational explanation. They were satisfied. "Fair enough," Lestrange said in response. He was dwelling upon what he knew about Harry's past, wondering why he had never taken this into consideration before. Avery's thoughts, however, were a little less caring.

"Was it Grindelwald that killed your parents?" Avery wondered aloud.

Dolohov hid an awkward smirk while Nott suddenly wondered how much firewhisky Avery must have drunk to become so inconsiderate. None of the other Death Eaters could believe that Avery could be so idiotic. Harry ignored the rudeness of this question, knowing it was best if he settled the curiosity once and for all.

"Yes," he confirmed curtly.

"So," Avery continued, "Do you reckon Grindelwald killed Tom's parents too?"

Harry was confused by this question for a moment, before he remembered that Tom had always told the Death Eaters as little as possible about himself. Harry decided to try and end the conversation by answering a quick, "No, Tom's mother died when he was born."

"Oh, yeah…"

The card round was ending quietly. Gonson had won, and the others handed over almost a hundred Galleons.

"I always wondered how that happened," Avery added, his eyes squinting sceptically. "You barely hear of any Witches dying from giving birth. Which makes me wonder…"

"His mother was definitely a Witch," Harry affirmed.

"But how do we know that?"

"Do you doubt his power?"

"No," Avery said firmly, "we just can't know 'bout his parents properly."

"I don't think he would be very happy to hear you doubting his word," Harry stated. He was distracted for a moment as he rubbed his forehead in tiredness. This conversation was certainly doing the trick to make him crave solitude and sleep. "He's a Parseltongue, so we know he's related to Slytherin."

"Idiot," Nott added quietly, directing his words towards Avery.

"Even so, it could have been his dad who was related to Slytherin," Avery said. "His mum could have been a Muggle. It'd explain why Tom's dad left her."

The others were very uncomfortable with hearing Avery suggest these things. Harry wondered for a brief moment whether they feared that all of this was gong to be reported back to Tom. They might also be cautious that this would offend Harry too, somehow. "His father wasn't related to Slytherin. His mother definitely was."

"How do you know?"

Knowing that he shouldn't give too many details, Harry vaguely avoided the truth. "Tom told me and I trust his word."

"I do too," Avery commented, grabbing the firewhisky bottle to drink some more. "I just wonder if Tom could ever really know the proper history of his parents. He was in a Muggle orphanage, after all. It seems a bit weird."

"So what do you think happened, concerning Tom's past?" Harry inquired somewhat impatiently.

"Fuck knows," Avery said. "I just think it would be funny if you were related."

When Nott gave a slight breath of laughter across the table, Harry glanced over at him carefully. Lestrange's theory of Harry and Tom being together – which Lestrange thought of only in humour – had blatantly been shared, because Nott seemed very aware of the idea. Lestrange and Nott were very good friends, so this theory being discussed was only to be expected, Harry thought. Yet Harry didn't mind them joking about it, because it thankfully hadn't become a rumour spread amongst all of the Death Eaters…

Harry lost interest in Nott's mind when he saw that the Death Eater merely found amusement in the thought of Harry and Tom not knowing they were brothers, especially if they were indeed sleeping with each other. Turning his attention back to Avery, Harry said, "We definitely aren't related."

"How do you know?"

"Tom's older than me by about eight months, to start," Harry said, "and I remember my parents. The chances of us being related are slim."

Harry saw Gonson slyly levitate the neglected bottle of firewhisky away from Avery's side, to hide it. Avery was too distracted to notice. "He could be your half-brother, with a different mum."

"Why are you so determined to try and prove we're related?"

"Like I said, it would be funny," Avery grinned. "It would also explain why he respects you more than us."

"We've both seen our own fathers and there's no chance that we have the same mother," Harry explained, not bothering to deny the fact that Tom respected him more, "and it wouldn't be funny."

"You've both seen your fathers?" Avery repeated. "When did Tom meet his?"

Harry regretted having let this slip. The others turned to look at him curiously, waiting for an answer. Harry felt that he should lie… but wouldn't the truth quieten Avery? Harry debated about what he should say. He supposed that maybe the truth would make the Death Eaters fear Tom more, thus making their questions cease. It wasn't like Tom would really care about keeping this secret now, at any rate.

"Tom met his father when he was sixteen," Harry admitted quietly. "The summer before his sixth year."

"How do you know?" Avery pressed.

"He told me," Harry answered. This wasn't a lie, even if Harry had initially learnt about this in his sixth real year at Hogwarts. Tom would still talk about these sorts of things if Harry wanted to know more…

"Why does he tell you this stuff and not us?" Avery demanded.

Harry mused this question. "Maybe it's a matter of being brave enough to ask him."

"So, if you're so brave in asking him stuff," Avery slurred, "tell us this; how many people has Tom killed?"

Harry actually thought about this. With Myrtle, Tom's father, Tom's Grandparents, Hepzibah Smith, the British Muggle, and the Albanian Muggle dead, as well as Burke being murdered by Tom's strong encouragement, and the possibility of Quentin dying at his hand, Tom had murdered nine possible people so far. At almost twenty-two years old, this was quite a serious amount of crime to commit. Harry had no desire to share this information while he struggled to accept it himself…

It seemed that many of the Death Eaters guessed from his silence alone that he wasn't prepared to answer this question. Harry heard Dolohov chortle darkly, and one of the Death Eaters began to speak.

"Even if Jonathan knows the answer," Nott began with a slight smirk, "I don't think Tom would allow him to tell–"

SMASH.

Something crashed through Harry's kitchen window, causing the only lit torch to smash and fall to the ground, extinguishing. The atmosphere changed so dramatically that both Harry and the Death Eaters were disoriented. The Death Eaters flinched and yelled in panic. Their voices were the only things that told Harry he was still awake. Without delay Harry reached for the pocket of his robes to withdraw his wand. He prayed that it would work for him now as he mumbled a quiet "Lumos".

The wand lit up and Harry felt some anxiety leave him. His head was pounding, his stomach was bothering him, and his heart hammered in his ribcage, but he paid no attention to that now. He stood up, ignoring the sharp pain in his body as he spoke to the Death Eaters. "Are you all alright?"

He received seven positive replies. Avery had fallen off of his seat, but he stood up with the others when he saw Harry standing. Gonson and Nott had ignited their wands too and with that there was enough light for everyone to see perfectly in.

"What happened?" Nott asked.

"It looks like a spell crashed through the window," Harry responded in a low voice, glancing at the broken glass next to the ruined torch on the floor. "There must be someone fighting outside…"

"Any chance of it being some of the other Slytherins?" Gibbon asked nervously.

"There's only one way to find out," Harry said. When he stopped talking, they could hear shouting in the distance. Reflected against the broken glass in the window frame was the light of spells off in the distance. Harry's heart was in his mouth. "Come on."

"Are you insane?" Gibbon squawked. "We can't go out there!"

"Well, what else are we supposed to do?" Harry demanded. "Just wait around for the danger to find us here? There might be nothing wrong… Come on."

He began walking out of the kitchen and the others followed him, most of them only slightly reluctantly. Harry extinguished his wand when he looked through one of the windows at the front of his house. After quickly making sure that none of the spells were being fired nearby, Harry headed for the front door. The Death Eaters followed him across the snowy ground. They were heading swiftly towards the spell-fire.

It appeared that someone was indeed having a fight and Harry's footsteps quickened. He felt nauseated and feverish, but he wouldn't allow his sickness to distract him now. The potions Tom gave him numbed the pain enough, even if his internal condition was fatal and steadily failing. It seemed to take forever to reach where the spells were being fired. Lestrange, Nott, Gonson and Rosier moved ahead of Harry after a time, to get there sooner. When there was a flash of familiar green light, Harry wished more than anything that he could break into a run.

When the spells stopped, his heart pulsed in further terror. He could see figures close to him by the time he passed the Death Eaters' buildings. Gonson had run back to him to give him the news. They never stopped walking towards where the Death Eaters gathered.

"Is anyone hurt?" Harry asked immediately.

"Just Ransom," Gonson answered. "He's been knocked out."

"What happened?"

"It – it looks like Grindelwald's people got past some of our defences," Gonson explained. They were close to where everyone gathered now. There were two shadows on the ground… "One of them got into our land by following Mulciber, Ransom, Macnair, and a few more of our people, who apparently just visited one of the towns near here."

"Who said they could leave?"

"No one," Gonson stated. "They decided to do it on their own."

Harry could feel that they were passing a few of the shields that protected Tom's land. Tom had set it up so any of them could leave in an emergency, but no one besides Harry, Tom, and twenty or so Death Eaters could get back in. The Death Eaters constantly complained about this rule, not knowing what useful and spectacular magic it really was. They were outside all of the remaining defences when they joined the group of Death Eaters.

"Why are there two bodies," Harry asked slowly, "if only Ransom was knocked out?"

Gonson averted his eyes when he heard this question. Clearing his throat carefully he said, "Well, I'm guessing there was a lot of confusion in the fight, and with five of our people against one…"

They had reached the bodies, so Harry didn't press Gonson for a more clear answer. Harry could see Ransom unconscious on the ground, but the second body was the only one that truly interested him. He headed for it, feeling sicker than ever. He recognised the face extremely well, even if he didn't know the name of the Wizard who had so persistently tortured him a month ago. The follower stared unseeingly up at the dark sky while the falling snow rested horrifyingly on his wide, soulless eyes. The snow melted only marginally while his lifeless body lost its heat…

"Is it one of Grindelwald's people?" Nott asked.

"Yes," Harry responded. "I recognise him…"

After a long moment, Harry tore his eyes away from the dead wizard. The Death Eaters were as shocked as he was at the idea of a follower finding his way even partially into their land – and moreover at the idea of one of the Death Eaters killing him. Harry stared into the faces around him, trying to read their minds to see what had happened. "Who killed this wizard?"

No one needed to say a word, for as well as everyone thinking about the answer, a lot of the Death Eaters glanced at Mulciber. When Harry followed the general gaze, he found the accused Death Eater facing him bravely. Mulciber's mind had changed dramatically in the last few weeks and this hadn't escaped Harry's notice. He had become distant and cold and he no longer laughed at anything that wasn't very either morbid or vile. Harry had wondered whether Tom had been honest in his claim of who killed Quentin. As he stood on the snowy grounds of this land now, there wasn't a doubt in Harry's mind that it had indeed been Mulciber…

"Did they attack any more of you?" Harry questioned, hoping this would be the case.

"No, only Ransome really," Macnair answered. "There was only one of them."

"How did you know that you had to fight this Wizard, then?"

"He was yelling at us in German."

Harry found himself becoming annoyed, somehow. "Not every German is going to be a follower of Grindelwald!"

"But – but that wizard was, right?" Gonson asked in pure alarm.

"Yes," Harry confirmed, "but you shouldn't kill someone because they were shouting German!"

"He did start throwing spells at us though," Macnair added, "and we just got a little… carried away…"

Everyone took this to mean Mulciber had lost it. A lot of the others completely avoided eye contact with Mulciber, for they were all pretty concerned about his sanity now. With their avoidance, Mulciber got visibly annoyed. His glare caused more of the Death Eaters to look away, making him even more annoyed.

"What, so you're all gonna judge me now?"

Not a word was said in response. Even Harry was somewhat fearful of Mulciber by this point, but he hid it well. Wanting to spare further awkward silences as well as wanting to take action, Harry began telling the Death Eaters what needed to be done.

"All of you, keep watching out for more followers," he said. "There's bound to be more of them waiting around, since these defences couldn't be taken down by one wizard alone… Dolohov, Macnair, Gibbon, Nott, bring Ransom back inside and take the dead wizard with you, so we can burry his body somewhere…"

"Will he be able to get past the shields with the body?" Gibbon enquired.

"I don't see why not," Harry responded. "He's only a corpse."

Avery gave a gruff laugh, elbowing Dolohov as he walked past. "Too bad none of us are necrophilic, eh?"

Even Dolohov was too repulsed to do anything but grimace at Avery's drunken, repulsive joke. Most of the Death Eaters pretended they didn't heat it.

Harry felt anxiety storming through him while he looked out into the darkness surrounding them. It would be hours until Tom got back and Harry didn't know what might happen by then. Harry wouldn't be able to strengthen much of the magic keeping them safe because Tom had to be able to get back inside soon. But Grindelwald's people would know that the follower they sent here was either dead or being tortured, and they were likely going to do something about that. Harry suddenly feared his resistant wand more than ever before as he contemplated the possibility of more followers waiting in the shadows. He wouldn't be able to defend himself in his position…

Should Harry strengthen the protection or wait for Tom? No matter how powerful Harry attempted to make the shields here, it wouldn't be strong enough to hold back Grindelwald's followers or more than a few hours – maybe less, considering how weak Harry was at this time. Yet if Harry didn't put up more defences and if Tom didn't come home soon Grindelwald's people would attack this place even sooner. Either option wasn't going to work and Harry was panicking…

Then another unnerving detail suddenly struck Harry, and he turned to face the Death Eaters once more.

"Mulciber, get back inside," Harry ordered.

Mulciber looked annoyed. "Why should I?"

"Tom will be home soon."

"So?"

"So, I don't want you getting in the way," Harry expressed. "You could cause further problems."

"How would me being here cause–?"

"Do I have to spell it out for you?" Harry asked sharply. "I can't risk your temper going out of hand again, in case you kill Tom too without my consent!"

Mulciber glared at Harry, likely in an attempt to scare him into changing his command. Harry decided to add something else, to make Mulciber leave faster.

"You did the right thing," he assured the Death Eater, "but your work tonight is done."

Without a word, Mulciber began to turn away bitterly. Harry was starting to feel extremely sick, but he wasn't sure whether this was just his worry or not. He urged himself to stay strong for just a little longer as he addressed the Death Eaters. His sickness could wait for later…

"Everyone, let's get back inside," Harry suggested, turning around to head for the nearest building that the Death Eaters owned. Harry's hands were shaking, so he hid them from view. "Tom will be back in a few hours – probably less – and by then we'll be able to be fully protected. We'll have to think of a pl-"

The sound of spells being fired drowned out Harry's words. The noise rang in their ears as the Death Eaters span around to locate where the spells were coming from. When Harry turned back, his stomach leapt in fear. In a matter of seconds Harry saw blood exploded from Avery, while orange whisks of dark smoke surrounded Lestrange's entire body. The two Death Eaters fell to the ground amongst a few others who hadn't expected this sudden bombardment in the slightest.

Without thinking about pain or his useless wand Harry began throwing curses. Only around two in every five spells worked, yet he nevertheless tried to continue fighting as terror tore through him. The Death Eaters were mostly running back inside in fear, but the few of them who fought were powerful enough. Harry couldn't see how many wizards fought against them, because it seemed to him that many of them just disappeared into thin air – through Apparition, he later supposed. Harry thought that surely not all of Grindelwald's people were here fighting…

He felt a huge wave of relief mix suddenly with his previous anxiety when he realised this wasn't a full attack, but perhaps as a result of this Harry's wand sharply gave up on him. The next thing Harry knew, a flash of red light hit his chest, causing him to stop in his tracks. Darkness was pressing in on his mind before he even hit the floor, but he tried very hard to stay conscious. He could hear more shouting, could see the light of spells beyond his eyelids. People were running past him, shouting things…

"Avada Kedavra!" he heard someone scream so very far away…

"Get them inside!" Gonson was surely saying. His voice was muffled, like the others.

Footsteps could be heard. More flashes of green light… The next thing Harry knew, he was floating. When he landed – still hearing the far-off screams and spells – he heard more people approaching him.

"Is he dead?"

"That wasn't a Killing Curse, idiot."

"But even a Stunning Spell would be enough to kill Jonathan by this point."

Someone was moving closer to Harry, looking for something.

"He's still breathing."

"Always a good sign…"

"Let's get him inside."

Someone was levitating Harry again without a word.

"Tom's going to kill us…"

"If Mulciber doesn't first."

Someone laughed humourlessly. Their voices were fading, and darkness was pressing in more persistently. Harry wanted to wake up, to help the Death Eaters, but his body couldn't fulfil this desire as his aching limbs lost all energy… The only thing he could hope, before he slipped into unconsciousness, was that Tom would get back here as soon as possible…