Chapter 40: Uprooted
A.N. Harry is rescued on Saturday, July 26th, 1997. His visit to Rose in London had taken place on the weekend of July 5. Harry's seventeenth birthday party, of course, is on July 31st, 1997, and the wedding takes place on August the first.
Rose felt that she was watching her nephew explode in slow motion. Standing in the Weasleys' crowded living room, she was largely silent as Remus, Arthur, Molly, and Hagrid were trying to help Harry moderate his guilt, his grief, and his anxiety in the wake of Mad-Eye Moody's death.
"It would make our efforts tonight seem rather pointless if you left," Arthur cajoled.
"Yer not goin' anywhere," Hagrid insisted.
"Mad-Eye wouldn't want-"
Rose, who had been watching Harry's tightened fists and rapid breathing for some minutes, was not surprised at all when he finally shouted "I KNOW!" at them all, though several people jumped, startled at his outburst. Nor was she surprised when, a minute later, after several people had taken it upon themselves to correct his story of what had happened with his wand and Voldemort, he turned and walked away from them all into the Weasleys' garden.
Rose had seen something else besides mere emotional overwhelm in his eyes, though. It was as if he was trying to suppress an episode of vomiting; his eyes had become glassy and there was a rim of sweat around his hairline. When he left, she looked at Ron and Hermione pointedly, then followed him. She felt sure that his friends would join them soon.
"Harry," she said, catching up with him at the garden gate. He made as if to turn around at the sound, then suddenly fell to his knees. His hand was clutching his forehead. Rose helped him to ease himself to the ground, placing his head in her lap so that he would not injure himself, for he had begun to twitch and thrash slightly. He did not cry out to the degree that he would have been heard from the house, but he moaned and whimpered once or twice, his eyes rolling back in his head.
If Rose had not known of these occasional fits, the result of his connection to Voldemort's mind and emotions, from Hermione's descriptions, she might have been frightened for him. As it was, she was deeply unsettled, and watched anxiously until with a start, he jerked back into consciousness, breathing fast and looking around frantically.
"Harry, you're safe," she told him. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back down onto her robes for a moment, still struggling to calm his breath. Rose put her hand on his head and waited for him to open his eyes again.
When he did, she asked quietly, "You saw something you didn't want to see, didn't you?"
"I saw Voldemort torturing Mr. Ollivander," he replied. "So, yes." He sat up and put his head in his shaking hands. She could tell he was embarrassed, so she made no move to comfort him further but merely sat next to him in the quiet of the summer night.
"You have to let them love you, you know," she finally said. When he frowned in confusion, Rose clarified. "The Weasleys, Remus, your friends, everyone in there. You want to leave because you love them, isn't that right?"
"Well, yeah," he muttered. Then he said in a more agitated voice, "They don't realize the danger they're in having me here. I'm a direct line to Voldemort."
"They are like your family. And I know Petunia and Vernon didn't exactly show you what it was like to have a family. But the love, it has to go both ways. If you're going to love people, there are times when you have to let them love you. Even when it's hard. Even when you're ashamed. That's what makes us different from Death Eaters. Sirius helped me understand that." He didn't respond, but she knew he was listening as he stared out at the night sky. "In a way, letting them take risks to protect you shows them you love them. It means you trust them."
When he didn't answer, she added gently, "You need to stay, cher."
"I know," he said, a trifle peevishly. At that moment, Ron and Hemione came out from the house, hand in hand. Rose detached the edge of her robe from under Harry, and, nodding to Ron and Hermione, made her way back into the house for some firewhiskey. It had been a long night.
Rose had been wandering for what seemed like years through stone corridors and narrow staircases. Some of these resembled places she had known at Beauxbatons, while others were clearly Hogwarts. She was searching for something, though she had long forgotten what. Into rooms, then out again, she strolled restlessly through the dark and empty corridors, knowing she would never cease until she'd found whatever it was she sought.
In one dark room, finally, her consciousness recognized that she had arrived at her object. It was a tall, ancient-looking mirror, with clawed feet, framed in gold. Rose ignored the inscription on the mirror, staring instead into the picture it showed her. The version of herself she saw in the mirror looked lighter and much less careworn than the version her own mirror showed her each day. But what turned her gaze into a fixed stare was the man who stood next to her mirror-self.
Sirius looked healthy and hale, his beard and hair clean and trimmed neatly, his eyes flashing with their accustomed fire. He smiled a bit devilishly as he reached for the Rose in the mirror. His arms wrapped around her, and hers went around his waist. He whispered something in her ear, and Rose, who could not hear what he said, watched herself laugh, her mirror-self's eyes sparkling in response to his cheeky comment. Then, Sirius detached one of his arms from Rose and reached out for someone else. Harry had walked into the frame, and Sirius threw his arm around his godson's shoulders as Harry stood, grinning, his hands in his pockets. His face showed none of the signs of overwhelm, grief, anxiety, or exhaustion that she'd seen in it these past months.
The three of them stood together, arms around each other, for all the world like a family. Rose stared at them, entranced. She watched long enough to see that the sapphire ring which Sirius had given her was on her finger, along with a narrow silver band. Sirius' left hand, which was around her waist, also had a silver ring on the fourth finger.
The Rose who was looking at them from outside the mirror felt that she was nothing but longing from head to toe. Her hand lifted, seemingly of its own accord, until it was resting on the surface of the mirror. The Rose and Harry in the mirror did not seem to notice her. But then, the happy, smiling Sirius frowned.
He slowly looked away from those around him and down, until he was looking directly into the eyes of the Rose outside the mirror. For a moment, his expression changed. His eyes looked charged with intent, as if he was about to do or say something important. But instead of speaking, his hand reached out as if to meet her hand from the other side of the mirror. Just as their hands were about to meet,
Rose's eyes opened. She had one look at the blank white ceiling of her flat, illuminated by the bright summer sun, before her face crumpled and the tears began to fall.
She'd had other dreams of Sirius, but none this vivid before. Usually he was simply part of her dream's story, usually laughing, sometimes alone in Grimmauld Place. But never had any of her dreams showed him to her as if he were anything more than a memory. For several minutes, she could do nothing but weep into her pillow.
When she had calmed herself to a degree, Rose considered what she had seen. She knew she had dreamed of the Mirror of Erised from Harry's description of it, though she had never seen it herself. She had looked at her heart's deepest desire, and seen the family she had hoped to make with Sirius, with Harry, for three people whose families had been lost to them. This dream has told me two things, she told herself. Sirius wants to reach me. He has something to say. Our future together is gone, but he would still ask something of me.
The second important detail, she was sure, was the presence of Harry. Harry, healthy and whole and safe, was something they had both wanted, more even than they wanted their own future together. She pulled her sheet up to her chin and looked at the pattern of light on the ceiling made by the sun coming through the curtains, and she thought about Harry as she had seen him last, five days before, on the night they had taken him from Privet Drive.
Ron and Hermione had calmed him considerably after his vision of Ollivander, and he had been sitting in the Weasleys' living room with a mug of tea when she had taken her leave of him. He had looked tired, though, and haunted, very different from the way he'd looked in her dream. When she arrived at The Burrow for his seventeenth birthday party that evening, she hoped she'd find him looking more like he'd looked during his visit to her flat at the beginning of the month.
They hadn't done very much in the city during that visit, for they were both extremely aware of the dangers that lurked everywhere outside magical protection. Most of the time they'd simply stayed in Rose's flat, eating, watching television, and playing occasional games on the pilfered PlayStation they'd brought with them from Privet Drive.
But they had taken one outing, during which Harry had looked almost as happy as she'd ever seen him, outside of the Quidditch pitch. They'd stayed in Muggle areas, hoping that they would be harder to notice or track there. After a trip to Rose's local coffee shop, they caught the Tube to Monument Station and strolled by the river. The Globe Theater had just reopened the month before, and on impulse, they had gone in to watch the early afternoon's performance of Henry V, standing in the groundling area for the entire show. Harry had enjoyed it hugely, though he had not understood every line. He confessed to her afterwards that it was the first time he'd seen a play, which had caused a squeezing sensation in Rose's heart.
They wandered across the river then to St. Paul's, which was a favorite London haunt of Rose's. She loved the quiet, the sense of space and yet of privacy, the peace of the place. To her joy, Harry seemed to enjoy the atmosphere too, and they browsed there together in silence for nearly an hour. They stopped at a chip shop afterwards, and Harry had made her heart expand within her by saying, "This is probably the best day I've had when I wasn't either at Hogwarts or the Burrow. Thanks, Rose. Thanks a lot."
She had worried that it would be awkward, having her teenage nephew to stay at her flat, and worried, too, that he wouldn't enjoy himself without his friends around him. But he seemed to appreciate the quiet in her flat, and to be perfectly at his ease when he sat in her kitchen or occupied the sofa in front of her television. Tonks came by one night, and they'd watched music videos and laughed uproariously at Tonks' commentary on the current hits.
All in all, Rose thought she'd given him a respite from the burden of the Prophecy, a burden which had seemed to grow so much heavier since Dumbledore's death. She hoped very much he'd be able to take some enjoyment from his birthday party, and from Bill and Fleur's wedding the next day.
Rose arrived at The Burrow a couple of hours before dinner. She wanted to make sure she had the time to say what she felt she must say to Harry. But when she entered the kitchen after several voices had shouted for her to "Come in!" she found Bill, Fleur, Molly, and a young man Rose suspected to be Charlie Weasley, sitting in a chair in the middle of the kitchen and looking mildly chagrined. His hair, which was as brilliantly red as any of the rest of his family, looked freshly cut and brutally short. Molly was tucking her wand back into her sleeve, but when she saw Rose, her grim look turned to a welcoming smile.
"Rose, dear! So good to see you! I'm so glad you could make the party."
"I would hardly miss my nephew's seventeenth!" Rose exclaimed, returning Molly's smile and her hug. While their faces were close to one another, Molly spoke in her ear: "I'd like to have a word in the garden, if you don't mind."
Once they were out of anyone's hearing, Molly's face darkened. "I wonder if you would have a word with that nephew of yours, Rose. I can't get him to say what he's planning to do, but he's as good as admitted he's planning to drop out of Hogwarts, and Ron and Hermione too! I don't suppose you know where they're planning to go?"
"No," Rose could say, truthfully. "I do not."
"Well, no one wants to tell me anything," she said, her voice a bit resentful. "I suppose it's because I'm old, and Ron's mother, and young people never want to confide their plans to their parents. But you, Rose, you might have more success. You're so much closer to Harry's age, and I know he is fond of you."
"Harry loves you very much, Molly," Rose said, looking with conviction into Molly's troubled brown eyes. "Whatever his reasons are for not confiding in you, he thinks of you as a surrogate parent. I know he loves you."
"Well," Molly replied after a moment, blinking rapidly, "I'm sure I think of him as a member of our family too. I have for years. But you're his aunt, and not a parent, so maybe you can get it out of him. We just can't have them going off to who knows where at a time like this! Surely you agree?"
Rose's answer was carefully noncommittal. "I will see what he's willing to tell me. I want him to be safe more than I want anything, Molly."
"Of course you do! We all do!" Mrs. Weasley dabbed at her eyes with her apron, then cleared her throat. "You'll find him with Ron and Hermione in the sitting room. Why don't you try now, before the rest of the guests arrive?"
Only minutes later, Rose and Harry strolled through the garden, past the shed, and stopped by unspoken mutual consent before they could reach Sirius' memorial. "Now I think you can open your present," Rose told him, handing him the box she had taken from her handbag before they'd left the house. "I think you'll find them useful this year."
Inside, Harry found a pair of trainers made of a thick, dark green material. They were substantial, with rows of strong-looking grips on the soles, but lightweight and smooth. "They are for outdoor-type wizards who like to camp and hike," Rose told him, "Two occupations I know little about, of course. But Bill asked Charlie for me, for a recommendation. They're waterproof, too," she added.
"How do you always find the most brilliant things?" Harry asked, turning the shoes over in his hands in astonishment. "These are perfect. I don't know where we're going to be going, mind you, but they're going to be really handy."
"Yes, about that," Rose said quickly. "Listen, Harry, Mrs. Weasley wanted me to try to get you to tell me what your plans are from here. I'm not going to ask!" She assured him, holding up her hands, for he gave every sign of interrupting her at this. "But I just wanted to warn you, you need to be-"
"I know, I need to be careful. Because it's dangerous," he said, in a resigned voice that indicated that he may have had similar conversations already.
"I was going to say," Rose continued, after a pause, "that you need to be ready." He looked up at her in surprise.
"You need to be ready to make your escape at any time, Harry," she continued. "From everything I've seen at the Ministry, and heard from people who have been there every day, it could fall to Voldemort at any moment. Death Eaters have been spotted in the building more than once, there is ominous graffiti on the walls, and several Ministry officials are acting very strangely indeed. Rufus Scrimgeour doesn't go home anymore. He's taken to sleeping at The Ministry, and not because he's a workaholic. He's been threatened countless times. I've seen governments collapse before, Harry, and this one's collapse is imminent. Be. ready."
She looked him in the eye then, and found him looking back at her steadily. "I'll let Ron and Hermione know," he said. "Thank you. And if- if something happens, and we disappear, just- just know that it's because we've got to. And, try not to worry too much. And, you know, take care of yourself." He looked at his feet as he said this, which communicated his feelings to Rose more clearly than his words alone.
"I will," she replied. "And, here." She reached out and handed him a small card. "This is my address in Dalston. Since you've been to visit, Bill Weasley and Kingsley Shacklebolt have helped me to make it unplottable, and to hide it with the Fidelius Charm. Bill was already Secret-Keeper for Shell Cottage, his own home, so Kingsley has become Secret-Keeper for mine. Whether I am home or not, as long as you remember my address, you have somewhere safe to go. I think you know that we're not altogether sure about Grimmauld Place?"
Harry's face darkened. "Snape might be able to get in."
Rose nodded. "I think it is a question of when he already did get in, and whether he is coming back. But, yes. The safety of Sirius' house is an open question right now."
He nodded. "Thanks, Rose. I'll memorize this, then," he said, gesturing with the card, but his voice sounded hard. The angry fire that came into Harry's eyes whenever someone maintained Severus Snape was flaring up. Rose hastily changed the subject.
"We'd better get back to your party. Molly wanted to have dinner soon, and I think-" her words were interrupted by a loud CRACK. Lupin and Tonks had just arrived, hand in hand, at the edge of the Weasleys' property.
Rose smoothed her robes and leaned forward, smiling politely at the elderly witch across from her.
"So you're the third Evans sister? Charmed, of course," the woman said, nodding once and adjusting her grip on her walking stick. "I'd heard that they'd sent you off to France, poor thing. Of course, it couldn't be helped. We were all in fear for our lives back then. Rather like now, really. But still. To take a good English girl and let her go and live in France for the better part of her growing-up years, well!" She sniffed, and her beady eyes quickly darted toward the table where Fleur sat, smiling serenely, her hand resting on the hand of her new husband. "It isn't what one likes to see."
Rose kept her face pleasant as she answered, "Thank you for your concern! Let me assure you, though, that the education I received was quite competitive. My teachers, too, and the headmistress of Beauxbatons were were most encouraging and helpful."
"Oh, no one doubts the reputation of the school, Miss Evans. But the French simply are not a forthright people. One never can tell what a French person truly is, in my experience, until one has known them for years. Their culture is different, their values are different, and their politics are decidedly different from what one sees in England. Have you not noticed some very stark differences since you have been back among English wizards?"
"I have," Rose replied, still keeping her face at a rigid neutral despite her growing irritation. "I have certainly noticed the proclivity for bluntness in England. I have been happy to be home, Ma'am. But I must say that I have been quite tempted to return to my work for the French Ministry of late." This was not true. For all her fear and worry about the war and the tenuous state of the British Ministry, it had never once crossed Rose's mind to leave the country until the war was over and Harry was safe. But she was rapidly coming to the end of her patience for the ancient lady, whom she believed to be a relative of the Weasley family but who apparently had none of that family's warmth and good-humor.
The witch, however, looked at her sharply, then nodded again. "Well, Miss Evans, there is certainly some reason for that. Our Ministry has produced only a series of shocking failures for years. And that Cornelius Fudge, he's been an embarrassment since he took office. Still, Rufus Scrimgeour seems to have the right idea, now."
Rose smiled insincerely, but was saved the necessity of a reply. "Muriel! Come over here and look at what Elphias is wearing!" another aged witch in cranberry coloured robes cackled at them loudly. "He looks like a dervish!"
"Come on over here yourself, Agatha," Muriel returned, "I'm a hundred and seven. You're only a hundred and three, you can walk."
"Rosey. Would you dance?" a voice came behind her, and Rose turned in relief to see Remus reaching a hand for her. She took it, nodding to Muriel. "It has been a pleasure talking with you, Ma'am."
Muruel nodded back, but now seemed engrossed in trying to spot Elphias and his notorious clothing in the crowd.
"Tonks thought you might need rescuing," Remus explained, pulling Rose into position and beginning an easy swing step. "Muriel's conversation can be something of a trial, I believe."
"I was beginning to find it so, thank you," Rose told him. She looked around as they danced, smiling and waving at Tonks, who was talking to Molly Weasley, and stretching her neck to where she could just make out a tall, red-haired lad whom she knew to be Harry in Polyjuiced disguise. He was talking to a young man Rose had no trouble recognizing as Victor Krum. Rose wondered briefly whether Harry had revealed his identity to his old Tri-Wizard competitor, before returning her eyes to Remus.
His expression had gone oddly morose as he stared through the crowd at Tonks, but he looked back at Rose then and smiled. "Doing all right, Rose?" he asked her.
"Well enough," she answered. "Are you quite well? You look-" miserable, she thought, but she finished, "thoughtful."
"I'm fine, I'm fine. A bit tired. More than a bit worried about the state of things. But I'm all right," he assured her, a bit too heartily, she thought. "I'm sure I'm not the one you'd like to be dancing with," he added, smiling at her a bit sadly. "But I do like to see you."
Rose's mind flashed briefly to Sirius, to his easy grace on the dance floor, his flashing eyes, and the smell of him whenever he pulled her a little closer to him. She swallowed. "I miss him, of course," she answered, honestly. "He'd have loved this."
"He would," Remus agreed, leading Rose skillfully away from a tent post without missing a beat. "He'd likely be both out-drinking me and and out-dancing me by now."
"I think I can remember something of that from Lily and James' wedding. Didn't he give a speech that lasted thirty minutes while wearing a magenta witch's hat with a short veil and cause Lily to wee herself laughing?"
"How do you remember that?" Remus laughed. "That was 18 years ago! You were a child!"
"One doesn't forget a speech like that!" she insisted. "I was horribly embarrassed for Lily. But I have no problem admitting to you that I had a young girl's fancy for Sirius Black, who danced so well."
"Wartime weddings tend to be the most memorable," Remus observed. "You're an excellent dancer, Rosey," he added, when the song came to a close, "But I need to get back to my wife. I'll see you soon."
They parted ways then, and Rose went and poured herself a glass of punch, mostly to pass the time. She kept stealing glances over at Harry-in-disguise. In front of her, Ron and Hermione were swaying, arms around each other, not exactly in time with the music but looking very pink-cheeked and happy, nevertheless. The song which had just begun was slower, a love song with a layer of melancholy in the chords, and she found herself suddenly fighting tears. She put down the punch, thinking that the alcohol was to blame for bringing her closer to the breakdown she had been fighting all day, when she turned at a tap on her shoulder.
Charlie Weasley stood before her, grinning sheepishly. "Hullo. Mum's just informed me that I can't just sit in the corner and drink all day. So. Dance with me? I'm not great shakes, but I can tell you are."
It was not the most winning proposition Rose had ever heard, but she found herself saying, "Certainly, Charlie. That sounds lovely." How can this honest, humble young man could be related to that lace-trimmed cow at the table? she wondered, as he led her through the tables to the dance floor again.
Charlie was not, as he said, a very skilled dancer, but he was enthusiastic. After the first, slow dance (during which Charlie led her in a high energy and rhythmically inappropriate waltz), the music shifted into a higher tempo. She was soon grinning broadly at his antics; he would break away, fling his own body dramatically through space, then catch Rose back into his arms and spin them until her laughter bubbled up uncontrollably.
At one point, they were turned such that she could see Harry, still in disguise, sitting with both Muriel and and old wizard wearing a fez. She only had a moment to wonder whether this was the "dervish" which the old witch had been referring to, before Charlie swung her around again with such energy that her feet momentarily left the ground. When the song ended, she shook Charlie's hand. "Thank you. I needed cheering up, I'm afraid."
"Not a problem. Thank you, for giving me a few minutes away from Mum's excessive concern for my liver," he responded, laughing. She was just about to suggest that they go over and join Tonks and Remus, whom she could see sitting over to her right, when a hush came over the guests and she spun around just in time to see a silvery lynx open its mouth.
"The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming."
It spoke with Kingsley's voice, though the words came faster than Kingsley's usual speed. There was a silence at first. Just before pandemonium broke out, though, Remus' voice rang out. "Shield charms!" he cried, and Tonks, beside him, shouted "Protego!" Several guests next to them took up the cry, and Rose was about to join them when her eyes landed on Ron Weasley.
He was dashing around, frantic, knocking into people without apologizing, clearly searching for Hermione and Harry. Having just seen Hermione heading toward the table where Harry had been sitting, Rose pushed her way to him and grabbed his arm. "Ron. They're there!" she pointed, he looked and then suddenly, Hermione was before her, holding onto the red-haired lad who was Harry.
The red-haired lad looked at her for a moment, Harry's expression of alarm on the lad's florid face. Hermione had seized Ron's hand and was reaching for Harry, but he was still looking at Rose, clearly struggling between warring impulses.
"Go, darling!" Rose urged. "We'll hold them off!"
And he nodded, and took Hermione's outstretched hand, and was gone.
And then the Death Eaters were there, and people were Disapparating all around her. Rose felt no inclination, herself, to leave the tent. She was suddenly sparking with fury.
"First a school, now a wedding? You're so brave in an ambush, aren't you?" she taunted. "There you are, sans-couilles!"1 The Death-Eater fell when her stunning spell struck his chest. She spun around and threw a hex at another Death-Eater who was taking aim at Molly Weasley.
A voice behind her shouted, "Take that, you cowardly knob!"
She spun to find Muriel laying out a Death Eater who had apparently been in the act of sending a curse at Rose. She soon found herself back to back with the old lady, who turned out to be quite a fierce fighter in a pinch. They fought their way out of the tent, where they could see guests fighting or Disapparating, and still more Death Eaters were arriving. One masked man lifted his arms.
"We don't want to hurt anyone," he proclaimed, his message slightly thrown into doubt by the fact that many of his colleagues were engaged in duels with wedding guests. "We only want to know where Potter is. We know you have him here."
But no one stopped fighting, or Disapparating.
"Runcorn. These aren't the robes you wear at the Ministry," Arthur Weasley's voice came from the tent opening.
"They'll have a lot easier time believing you if you call off your attack dogs, Runcorn," Bill Weasley shouted, between firing spells at two different masked men.
"ENOUGH!" The large man called Runcorn called, and the Death Eaters all went slack. This didn't stop Muriel from throwing a full-body bind at the man she had been fighting. "Don't cooperate with him, Arthur!" she bellowed, before Disapparating with a crack.
"Harry isn't here," Arthur told Runcorn, his wand still drawn. "You can search the house."
"I think we'll do that," Runcorn agreed, and he strode into the house with purpose. The other Death Eaters followed, some of them warily looking over their shoulders at the remaining guests. Rose decided then and there not to leave the family until the Death Eaters did. Nothing stopped her from Disapparating; it was evident from the disappearance of most of the wedding guests that the protective enchantments surrounding the Weasleys' house had been broken.
But not only was she worried for the family whose home the Death Eaters would shortly be ransacking, she also feared that if she left now, one of them would find a way to track her to her flat. She simply couldn't risk the security of her flat, in case Harry should want to use it. He might be there now, she realized, a thought which made her blood run through her veins like ice.
When they reached the house, the Weasley family, minus Ron, had assembled in the garden. Arther was opening the door to the Death Eater called Runcorn, while Molly hung back with the younger Weasleys. She looked incensed and agitated, shifting her weight from one foot to another and constantly turning her gaze from her children to her husband. Bill stepped forward.
"I'll go in with Dad," he told his mother. When Fleur inhaled audibly and scowled at him, he kissed her swiftly. "They're trying to keep some credibility; they don't want open war yet. It'll be all right. And if it isn't," he said, looking grim, "We'll send them packing."
He strode off and followed his father and the Death Eaters into the house to supervise the search for Harry. The rest stayed in the garden, trying to pretend they didn't hear the sounds of heavy tramping feet and occasional crashes that came from the house. Charlie kicked at the garden wall several times, earning him glares from Mrs. Weasley, and finally stumped off back in the direction of the tent. The twins joined him and together, the brothers went to work at cleaning up the debris from the attack. Ginny stayed with her mother, and Rose stayed with Fleur, none of them able to take their eyes from the house.
They waited a long time.
The three Weasley brothers had effectively dismantled the entire wedding, setting aside the gifts and the food, by the time the Death Eaters had concluded that Harry was not hiding in any part of the house. But just when Molly had begun to huff about finally being allowed to live in her house again, Runcorn announced that they would each be questioned, one at a time, in the kitchen. Everyone else was to remain in the garden.
They took Fleur first, either because they fancied her a weak link in the family front, or because none of them seemed to be able to stop leering at her. Fleur was imperious and straight-backed as she walked into the house, throwing off the hand of the Death Eater who was attempting to drag her there. "'Ow kind of you to call so unexpectedly," she said coldly to the Death Eater who walked with her. "Pair'aps I could interest you in some of my wedding cake?"
When she returned, she grimaced at Rose. "Cochons. Je ne leur ai rien dit."2
Then they called for Rose. They must think Fleur and I are the most likely ones to tell what we know. I wonder if they even know who I am, Rose thought as she followed the taciturn Death Eater who had motioned to her. Over her shoulder, Rose heard Fleur call to her. "Te laisse pas emmerder!"3 and despite her pounding heart, Rose smiled a little.
They kept her only a quarter of an hour, but it felt much longer. Over and over, in every way possible, they asked: "Where is Harry Potter? Who is he with? Where would he go? Where did you last see him?"
Rose had gathered fairly early on that these men did not, indeed, know who she was. They had heard her speaking French with Fleur, however, so Rose decided to attempt to throw off further suspicion by aping the French accent she had used with Umbridge.
"I 'ave not seen 'arry Potter, non," she told them, over and over. "Pair'aps ee is with 'iz family." These sorts of remarks seemed to convince them over time that she was only a friend of Fleur's, and knew nothing of Harry Potter's story, let alone his whereabouts. In time, they let her out.
When she'd been released to the garden and the Death Eaters had called for Bill, Rose saw Tonks among the assembled Weasleys. She was sitting in a garden chair next to Molly, who was patting her pack soothingly. She looked pale.
"Why have you come back?" Rose asked her, though she knew her voice betrayed how glad she was to see her friend.
"Oh, we never left," Tonks assured her. "We were just keeping to the perimeter, keeping an eye on things and making sure they didn't try anything sneaky. I wouldn't put it past this lot to burn the place down in temper. 'Don't want to hurt anyone,'" she imitated sarcastically. "My arse." She folded her arms and hugged herself; she seemed to be either very cold or very tired.
"Where's Remus?" Rose asked, squatting next to Tonks and looking at her face closely.
"He's helping Arthur to put the tent away," she answered, leaning forward with a grimace.
"Are you poorly?" Rose asked her quietly.
"No. Well, I mean, yes-and. It's nothing contagious," she added, with a short laugh.
"What's the matter? And can you tell me why Remus seemed so miserable at the wedding, before any of this happened?"
"I expect he's just worried," Tonks replied, after a moment. "You see," looking up at Rose abruptly, "I'm pregnant."
1 "no-balls"
2 "Swine. I told them nothing."
3 "Don't take any shit!"