'Harry, are you okay?' Hermione asked, sounding concerned as they sat together in darkness on Hermione's bed. 'Is it about us returning to Hogwarts tomorrow?'
Harry shook his head. 'It's Halloween,' he muttered darkly.
'Oh! I'm so sorry! I forgot…'
'It's all right,' Harry waved it off with a shrug.
Hermione swallowed. 'Do you…do you want to go?'
'Go where?'
'Godric's Hollow,' she whispered, sitting down next to him and taking his hand.
'No,' Harry replied. 'Not until Riddle's gone for good. I owe them that before I can face them again.'
Hermione did not question; she did not try to suggest the contrary. That was one of the things he loved about her. She always knew when to push and when to stay silent. It was a skill that she developed in the years when it was just him and her against the world.
'I can't relax,' Harry murmured. 'Halloween's never been a good day for me.'
Hermione gave his hand a squeeze. 'We'll be okay,' she consoled with surprising conviction. 'We've got nothing to fear. The Death Eaters are the ones who should be pissing themselves this time around.'
Harry could not help but chuckle. 'How eloquent.'
'Like you wouldn't be just as crass,' Hermione said with a sniff.
Despite the best efforts of Hermione and her parents, Harry could not help but feel on edge the entire night. His hand never strayed too far from his wand. Even at dinner, he could not feel comfortable unless he had it on the table within reach of his right hand.
Nothing did happen that night, though, even if Harry had a difficult time sleeping with the constant feeling that something was about to happen. The next morning, Harry and Hermione apparated to Grimmauld Place to use Sirius's Floo to return to Hogwarts via the Three Broomsticks.
'It is good to see you, Potter, Miss Granger,' McGonagall called when they reached the gates to the grounds.
'It's good to see you, too, Professor,' Harry replied sincerely.
McGonagall escorted them up to the castle. When they entered the Great Hall, they found it nearly empty. Many of the students had not yet come down to breakfast. Dumbledore, though, was already sitting at the Head Table. He looked down at the arrivals with a looked that seemed a mix between disapproval and pity.
Harry and Hermione sat down and helped themselves to a tiny helping of breakfast – they had already eaten at Hermione's house. Slowly, the Hall began filling up as students began to enter. Ginny, Luna, and Susan arrived together about half an hour later. Ginny looked far healthier than she did the last time Harry saw her.
'The lovebirds aren't here yet?' Ginny asked jovially, sitting down and shovelling some bacon onto her plate.
Hermione giggled. 'Maybe they're here, but not here.'
'Looks like I've got a job to do,' Susan said, pointing to her Prefect badge. 'There's no excuse for laziness when there're broom closets to be cleared.'
'Or maybe don't,' Harry replied, smirking. 'If Neville loses the badge, then I'll be Prefect.'
Susan snorted. 'If you and Hermione are Prefect together, you won't last a week before you lose your badge when you're caught snogging in a broom cupboard.'
'Are you really going to turn us in, now?' Hermione said sweetly.
'It is my solemn duty,' Susan replied pompously. That led to laughs all around.
Neville walked in around ten minutes later, holding hands with Daphne. Both their cheeks were rosy, and Daphne's long, raven, hair looked to be rather dishevelled.
'Your badges, now,' Susan snapped in an excellent imitation of McGonagall when the two of them sat down.
'We weren't snogging!' Neville protested.
'Guilty conscience, Neville,' Luna said serenely. 'I can see it. The free-floating Wrackspurts just got excited for a split-second.'
'So, the badges,' Susan continued with her ribbing. 'Hand them over. I'll see that they go to actually deserving students this time.'
'You know, I might just take you up on that offer,' Daphne said. 'I'm sick and tired of Zabini. Maybe I should get caught snogging in a broom cupboard.'
'So you admit it,' Harry chortled. 'You were snogging in a broom cupboard.'
'No, we're not that uncivilized,' Daphne replied, sniffing. 'We surmised you two were down here already and we took advantage of the empty Room of Requirement.'
'Which she turned into a broom cupboard,' Neville said, unable to contain his laughter.
'Well, I thought you had to snog in a broom cupboard at least once.'
The entire group roared with laughter. Harry was in a much better mood near the end of breakfast than he had been when he first arrived at Hogwarts. That was quickly shot to pieces, though, when Ron Weasley made his appearance. He sauntered directly towards Harry, Lavender hanging off his right arm as per usual.
'Can he like…leave us alone for a day?' Harry muttered depressingly to Ginny.
'I don't think he understands the concept,' Ginny replied, sounding just as dejected. 'I thought he'd learn his lesson from last week, but…well…maybe that was too much to hope for.'
'Back after your celebrity tour, Potter?' Ron said in an ugly voice. 'Being called the "Chosen One" wasn't enough, huh? You've got to throw an Order of Merlin on top. How many autographs did you sign on your world tour? How many admiring witches did you shag? Or maybe don't answer, I'm sure it'll be in the morning's Prophet.'
Harry's hands were clenched in fists. 'You've got guts to imply I'd cheat on Hermione,' he growled. 'Or maybe you just haven't got brains, Ron. I think it might be the latter.'
Ron did not seem to look fazed by this at all. 'Right, because I believe you. What kind of wizard refuses the willing witch put right in front of him? Especially when you've only got…that…to come home to.'
'I think you should leave,' Harry said in a soft, lethal voice. 'I'm an inch away from hurting you so badly you won't be able to walk again. The only two things stopping me from doing that are the fact that we're in the middle of the Great Hall and that I don't want you to burden your family any more than you already do.'
Ron scoffed at this. 'You got an Order of Merlin. You didn't become Merlin.'
'You know, Ron,' Harry said almost conversationally. 'However much you hate all Slytherins, you really remind me a lot of Draco No-Name. Been taking lessons on how to be a complete and absolute prick? Or did that come naturally?'
Ron sneered. 'You've got the nerve to compare me to that greaseball? Maybe you've been hanging around a snake for far too long, Potter.'
'Daphne's our friend,' Ginny snapped from behind Harry. 'I'll remind you again that while you were trampling over fourth-years, she was fighting Bellatrix, Rodolphus, Rabastan, and Dolohov. All at once.'
'I almost have trouble believing that,' Ron said with a condescending look towards Neville. 'Four Death Eaters, killed by the squib and – agh!'
Ron was cut off by Neville's palm connecting with his cheek. The boy was on his feet, looking livid. Daphne was tugging on his sleeve, trying to get him to sit down, but Neville either did not notice or did not care. He was looking at Ron like he was on the verge of murdering him.
'I don't know how you were sorted into Gryffindor, Ron,' Neville spat. 'I don't see bravery, nor determination, and not an ounce of chivalry. Everyone here – yes, even Daph – is fifty times the wizard you are. Get out of my sight, Ron.'
Ron, who had been unfazed by Harry's threats, looked positively frightened at Neville's attack. He massaged the now bright red palmprint on his cheek before promptly scurrying away.
'Neville, that was…'
'Incredible,' Ginny supplied.
'Ronald looked like he had swallowed a Wrackspurt,' Luna observed in her usual, dreamy voice. 'That's exceedingly dangerous.' It was not the first time that Harry thought her ludicrous theories made sense if he thought about them.
'Mister Longbottom!' suddenly came the booming voice of Dumbledore. 'Explain your assault on a fellow student!'
Neville looked at the Headmaster with an incredibly cold glare. 'Ron Weasley was grievously insulting my friends and my girlfriend,' he replied assertively. 'He refused to leave when he was repeatedly asked to and then directly told to. He's incredibly lucky that neither Harry nor I escalated the situation to an Honour Duel. Otherwise, you may be mopping him up off the floor, Headmaster.'
Dumbledore looked shocked, approaching the table at a brisk pace. 'You would have challenged Mister Weasley to an Honour Duel?'
'Yes,' Neville answered curtly. 'He was insulting me, my family, my friends, and my girlfriend. I am a magical adult, Headmaster. I am responsible for upholding my family's honour as much as my grandmother is, as much as my mother and father were.'
'It appears that you have been in the company of…violent influences…for far too long, Mister Longbottom,' Dumbledore said seriously. 'Meet me in my study. We must discuss your…temporary removal…from Hogwarts.'
'No, you will not!' McGonagall snapped, appearing behind Dumbledore and fixing him with a furious glare. 'Longbottom has not broken any rules worthy of suspension, nor do you have the right to send my students away from Hogwarts, Albus!'
'This is an action I must take to ensure the – '
'Then take it up with the Board of Governors!' McGonagall shrieked. 'Take it up with them, and see if they agree with the suspension of a high-achieving student, responsible Prefect, and war hero.' She turned back to Neville. 'Longbottom, detention tonight with me and fifteen points from Gryffindor.'
'Minerva, do you not think that punishment is – '
'Appropriate for the transgression of using physical force on another student?' McGonagall asked causticaly. 'Yes, I do. If you attempt to suspend another student without justification, Albus, you can be sure that the Board of Governors will hear of it!'
Dumbledore looked at McGonagall as she stormed out of the Great Hall. With a disapproving look in her direction and an angry look at Neville, he, too, strode out of the Hall.
'Shacklebolt,' Saul Croaker snapped.
Kingsley frowned but was otherwise unfazed by the rudeness. 'What may I do for you, Head Unspeakable?' he asked politely.
Croaker whipped out a rolled-up copy of the Daily Prophet. 'This!' he fumed, jabbing his finger at the front page.
Kingsley knew at once what Croaker was so angry about. The Daily Prophet was demanding nearly every day that the Ministry released the contents of the Prophecy regarding Harry Potter and Voldemort. He had himself – through proxies – encouraged the Prophet to shout as loudly as it could about the issue. Not like they needed much coaxing.
'The Prophet is demanding that we compromise the integrity of our work!' Croaker snarled. 'Letting slip that the Prophecy exists is one thing, releasing what we hold most secret is another!'
'Head Unspeakable Croaker, I have no intention of giving in to the Prophet's demands,' Kingsley placated. 'In my short stint as Minister, I've already grown quite thick skin.'
Croaker did not find the humour in that. 'Then what are your intentions, Shacklebolt?'
'That you offer Harry Potter a chance to listen to the Prophecy,' Kingsley replied. 'Remember our aims in pulling this stunt in the first place?'
Croaker's furious expression gave way to one of understanding, before turning to one of indignation. 'You wish to use the boy as bait for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?'
'Harry Potter himself came up with this…strategy,' Kingsley said calmly.
'But you went along with it.'
'He and Sirius Black were adamant that I do.'
Croaker sighed. 'What is your…his plan?'
'You are an Unspeakable, you must live up to that name where this knowledge is concerned,' Kingsley said sternly.
Croaker looked affronted. 'Do not imply that Unspeakables would ever even consider violating their oaths.'
Kingsley inclined his head. 'My apologies, Head Unspeakable,' he said. 'As you know, Voldemort is after that Prophecy – '
'I know,' Croaker said shortly. 'There was an attack on the Department of Mysteries the day of the Battle of Hogsmeade and the dementor attack in Liverpool. It was led by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named himself.'
Kingsley gasped in shock. 'Did I hear you correctly, Croaker?'
The Head Unspeakable nodded. 'The Unspeakables were prepared for such an eventuality. When the Aurors and Hit-Wizards ran off to deal with the double attack, the Unspeakables fortified the Hall of Prophecies. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is predictable. He arrived at the Department under a Disillusionment Charm that was lifted by our wards, expecting no resistance, and as a result, walked straight into a trap. He was forced to flee.'
'And I did not hear of this because…'
Croaker smiled mysteriously. 'There was nothing to report,' he said cryptically. 'No casualties, no damage, no leak of information.'
Kingsley huffed, but did not try to demand more information from the Unspeakable. 'Then you will know the lengths Voldemort will go to to acquire the Prophecy,' he continued.
Croaker nodded. 'And you believe that is our strength.'
'Indeed,' Kingsley replied. 'If we set a trap and put a tantalizing enough bait in it…'
'What kind of "trap" are you implying, Shacklebolt?'
'The kind of trap with half the Auror Office, myself, Amelia Bones, and Harry Potter himself ready to spring into action,' Kingsley answered.
'Add the Unspeakables to that list,' Croaker said immediately. 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is after our secrets. The Unspeakables oath compels us to fight to defend our secrets.'
Kingsley nodded. Extra forces were always welcomed. 'And now, the bait.'
'The Prophecy?'
'Yes, the Prophecy,' Kingsley replied. 'But also the person who will be coming to listen to it.'
'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would not give up a chance to accomplish two objectives in one go,' Croaker whispered in understanding. 'Take the Prophecy, kill Harry Potter, and wipe out the Ministry all in one operation.'
'And you can be sure that he will bring his full force of Death Eaters,' Kingsley agreed
+. 'He will see it as a coup and a victory parade both, in his arrogance. This might be our best chance at taking them all out for good.'
'Yes,' Croaker said distantly. 'We'll need a plan.'
Kingsley unfurled a large roll of parchment and produced two quills.
MINISTER CONSIDERS ALLOWING POTTER TO HEAR PROPHECY
The Dark Lord felt a sense of unparalleled elation. The Minister was doing his work for him. Not only was he handing the Prophecy to Potter, he was also drawing him into the open. The Dark Lord had planned for months, almost since the day of his return, on how to draw the boy out away from Dumbledore's protection. Now, the Ministry itself had made all his plans unnecessary. The foolish Minister had played himself right into the Dark Lord's hands.
'Malfoy!'
The boy obediently bowed at his feet. 'At your service, My Lord.'
'You have read this morning's Daily Prophet?'
'I saw the headline, My Lord,' Draco replied. 'Potter is to listen to the Prophecy that the paper has been talking about for the last several months. My Lord, if I may, I think this is the perfect opportunity for you to attack. You can get the Prophecy and kill Potter in one go.'
'Very astute, Draco,' the Dark Lord replied. It was not the first time that he was glad that he had the boy in his service rather than his father. 'That is indeed my plan.'
'I would like to lead the attack, My Lord.'
'I will be leading the attack personally, Draco.'
The boy looked up, his jaw open. 'You will, My Lord?' he breathed.
'Yes, Draco,' the Dark Lord said. 'It will be one decisive blow. We will seize the Prophecy, take out Potter, wipe out the Ministry, and conquer the magical world in a single day.'
Draco looked awed. 'Your brilliance is unparalleled, My Lord.'
'Yes, Draco. It is,' the Dark Lord said approvingly. 'Though you may not lead the attack, Draco, you may take the place of my lieutenant and lead my followers into battle. You have been asking for a chance to exact your revenge on Potter and his friends, have you not?'
Draco nodded. 'Yes, My Lord. And whoever savagely murdered Aunt Bellatrix.'
'You shall have your revenge, Draco. In fact, I shall reward you with a small revenge tonight,' the Dark Lord promised.
'My Lord?'
'You shall see,' the Dark Lord answered. He had come up with a brilliant plan to destabilize and weaken Potter on the spot. Giving Draco something to motivate him was an added bonus. 'I will be placing much of my foreign soldiers under your command. I trust that you will lead them well, Draco?'
'I will, My Lord,' Draco replied. 'Whoever stands in our way will face our wrath.'
'Potter,' McGonagall called as Transfiguration ended. 'Stay. Miss Granger, you too.'
Harry and Hermione exchanged a look. 'This has to do with the Prophet's headline,' Harry muttered.
Hermione nodded. 'Probably. Do you think…Dumbledore?'
'It's possible,' Harry grumbled. 'Maybe he wants to expel us like he tried with Neville last week?'
Hermione blanched but shook her head. 'No, he won't expel you. Me, though…'
'It won't happen,' Harry said firmly. 'I'll fight Dumbledore before I let him do something like that to you.'
Hermione brushed his hand with hers. 'I don't think Dumbledore would do that,' she whispered. 'He wants to…control…you, not antagonize you.'
'Come to my office,' McGonagall ordered.
Harry squeezed Hermione's hand and the two of them followed McGonagall into her office. They noticed that the Professor did not sit down but instead stood next to the fireplace.
'The Minister for Magic has requested your audience,' she said. 'You will proceed to the Ministry immediately. I have spoken to Professor Moody and excused you from Defence Against the Dark Arts.'
Harry nodded and looked at the fireplace apprehensively. 'Won't Dumbledore know that we've used the Floo?'
'He may,' McGonagall replied. 'However, he is away from school at the moment and will not likely be keeping tabs on movement in and out of the school.'
Harry nodded again before grabbing a pinch of Floo powder and throwing it into the flames. 'Ministry of Magic, Minister for Magic's Office!' he enunciated before stepping through the Floo.
He appeared several uncomfortable seconds later in Kingsley's outer office. Hermione stumbled out of the Floo behind him and fell on her backside. Harry helped her up, but not before snickering a little. Hermione surreptitiously punched him on the shoulder.
'Like you don't fall on your arse every time you come out of the Floo,' she said waspishly.
They knocked on Kingsley's door and he bade them to enter. He was sitting behind the desk in an austere, threadbare office. The space was uncomfortably organized and there did not seem to be a single personal object in the room save for Kingsley's cloak, which hung on a coat hanger next to the door. Oddly, there was what looked to be an air mattress and a pile of sheets in one corner of the room.
'I haven't found time for home improvement yet,' Kingsley said with a smile, noticing that Harry had been looking around the room. 'And I say "home improvement" quite literally. Air mattresses, a great muggle invention, I have to say. With some charms, it's almost as comfortable as my bed at home.'
Harry chuckled a little at the thought of Kingsley sleeping in his office. 'Busy, then?'
'Understatement,' Kingsley corrected. 'I haven't been home in three days and four nights. Hopefully, this mess will end soon, though. That's what you're here for.'
Harry nodded in understanding. 'Is this about what came out in the Prophet this morning?' he guessed. 'Are we…are we…'
'We are,' Kingsley confirmed. 'We've waited long enough. Wizards and witches up and down the country – those without a Dark Mark, at least – have been screaming at me to release the contents of the Prophecy. Or at least, let you hear it.'
'And you think…you think the Death Eaters buy it?' Hermione asked.
'According to Severus Snape, who has been passing information on to us through Minerva, Voldemort's desire of the Prophecy has turned into an obsession with the news that have been coming out in the last few months,' Kingsley said. 'What's more damning, the Unspeakables reportedly stopped an attack in the Department of Mysteries led by Voldemort himself that we did not even know occurred the day of the Hogsmeade and Liverpool attacks.'
Harry was not too surprised by this, but he felt that he needed to act so. He let his jaw drop open limply. 'They…what?'
Kingsley laughed. 'That was my reaction when Head Unspeakable Croaker first mentioned what happened,' he chortled. 'He spoke of it so offhandedly that I thought at first that I had heard him wrong. I had heard him right, though. There were no injuries or deaths. But it goes to show the desperation with which Voldemort wants the Prophecy.'
'Now that the Prophet's been on about the Prophecy for more than two months, I think it's time to…appease…them a little, don't you?' Kingsley continued.
Harry snorted. 'Kingsley, when did you turn into a politician?'
'I have been told that a lot recently,' Kingsley said, miming a pensive look. 'It comes with the job, I suppose.'
'Better you than Fudge,' Hermione muttered. 'At least you know how to do things other than be a politician.'
'At least I'm not serving a life sentence in Azkaban,' Kingsley said darkly. 'Back to this, though. We've got the bait – if you're willing, Harry. I know it's a lot to ask…'
'I'm willing,' Harry replied firmly. 'Kingsley, I'm the one who suggested this idea.'
Kingsley nodded. 'If you are willing, then, like I said, we've got the bait. All we need is the trap.'
'I'll be the bait and the trap,' Harry said, trying to sound confident. 'No one else needs – '
'Don't you go running anywhere without me!' Hermione shrieked. Harry opened his mouth but was cut off. 'And don't argue with me! We've decided this years ago!'
'No point in arguing with her, Harry,' Kingsley said. 'As skilled as you were that day in Hogsmeade, you cannot face Voldemort and possibly all of his Death Eaters at once. Myself, Amelia, the Aurors, and the Unspeakables will be on your side. They won't be told the plan. They'll only be told that they are there for "security".'
Harry nodded. A part of him could not help but feel uncomfortable that he was putting all those peoples' lives at risk – he had gotten used to operating alone or with only Hermione – but he saw the truth in Kingsley's words. There was no way even Merlin could face down perhaps a hundred dark wizards and win.
'When?' he asked quietly.
'As soon as possible,' Kingsley answered simply. 'We have decided to confirm that you have been invited to hear the Prophecy in two days. As for the exact date…'
'As soon as possible after that,' Hermione said. 'Voldemort won't possibly miss this opportunity. The less time you give him to plan out an attack, the better.'
'Very wise, Hermione,' Kingsley replied. He reached into his desk and pulled out a giant roll of parchment and spread it out onto the table. 'We have a plan, he will not.'
'It'll be next week,' Harry said grimly to the gathered group. 'We'll draw Riddle out next week.'
'You're going to fight him?' Neville asked, paling rapidly along with everyone else in the room. 'Next week?'
'Next week,' Hermione repeated with a shaky nod. Despite having known that it would come to this for ages and having gone over the plan with Kingsley, she still looked frightened. Harry could not blame her, for he was not feeling particularly confident himself.
'You're not going to fight him alone, are you?'
'No,' Harry replied. 'Hermione…uh…Hermione insisted on going.'
'If she's going, we're going,' Neville said firmly.
Harry shook his head. 'No, you're not,' he snapped. 'Hermione's different. She's…well…we're both mentally and magically twenty-something. We can – '
'Are you doubting our abilities?' Ginny demanded. 'Was this not what we've been training for? To defeat Riddle? You can't possible fight alone, Harry. We all fought together in Hogsmeade. That's why we won. Not even the two of you could have faced over fifty Death Eaters and came out on top.'
'I agree with Ginny,' Luna piped up, her voice incredibly serious. 'We might not be as good as you, but we can hold our own. We can help.'
'You're fourteen and fifteen!' Harry tried to protest.
'We're fourteen- and fifteen-year-olds who killed over thirty Death Eaters,' Daphne corrected. 'By the way, in case you forgot, I turned sixteen last week, so your argument is invalid. What's more, we're magical adults, remember? Orders of Merlin?'
'It still doesn't mean…'
'It's final,' Susan interrupted, standing up. 'We're fighting. My aunt is going to be involved, isn't she? I'm not going to sit on the side-lines in the safety of Hogwarts while she's out there with you two, risking your lives. No!'
Slowly, one by one, the other five stood up and faced Harry with a determined look.
Harry sighed. 'Fine,' he conceded. 'You can be there if you want to. Only if you want to, understood?' Five heads nodded in unison.
'I want to see every one of you alive and healthy at the end,' Harry said emotionally. He wanted to hug each and every one of them, but this was not the time. He drew his wand. 'Let's get to work.'
'Sirius, are you telling me that my daughter is going to be fighting the Dark Lord next week?' Helen demanded.
Sirius had the good grace to look somewhat ashamedly at his plate. 'Harry tried to stop her,' he muttered. 'She insisted.'
Helen sighed, but she knew that she probably should have seen this coming. If Hermione's mind was made, no one – not even her, Josh, or even Harry – could change it.
Josh must have seen her sullen expression. 'It might be for the best,' he consoled. 'The two of them watch each other's backs like no other pair I've ever met. They might be safer together than apart.'
'Doesn't change how a mother's bound to feel about it,' Helen murmured.
'You think I'm having any easier of a time?' Josh asked. 'But rationally, we both know that they're better off together than they are separate. I don't know much about magic, but when I was training for the Royal Navy, that was the first thing they taught us. Don't ever fight alone. You lose sight of your comrades, you get hurt, or worse.'
Sirius nodded. 'Helen, I agree with Josh,' he said quietly. 'Believe me, I'm not thrilled about it, either, but Death Eaters prey on a numerical advantage. Anything we can do to mitigate that – especially when we're talking about someone as bloody powerful as your daughter – is a win for us. Everyone has a better shot of making it out unscathed this way.'
Helen nodded morosely. She simply had to accept that the men were right, as much as it pained her to do so.
'You will watch over them, Sirius?' she pleaded.
'With my life,' Sirius promised.
They ate dinner in uncomfortable silence, each one of them wrapped up in their own thoughts about what they knew was to happen in less than a week. Helen was distraught, but she knew that she had to come to terms with it. Hermione and Harry would be fine, she told herself. They were strong. They survived years of dystopia in the future. They could survive this.
Sirius did the dishes by magic, saving Josh from his night of cleaning up after dinner. As Sirius levitated the last plate into the cabinet, there came a loud wailing sound and a wave of what Helen could only describe as pure energy rolled over her.
The plate that Sirius was levitating dropped to the floor and shattered as he sprinted towards the front door, but Helen did not care. She and Josh were fast in pursuit.
'Stay back!' Sirius shouted. 'Get your emergency Portkey ready and get out if I tell you to!'
Helen dove into the bedroom and pulled out a green biro. She dashed back downstairs as fast as she could, handing Josh one end of the Portkey, waiting for any call from Sirius.
Helen jumped in fright as several terrible wails of pain came from outside the house. She could not help her curiosity and lifted the blinds a little to look out the window. There, on the periphery of her property, four black-robed men were on their knees. They mouths were wide-open with their screams and their faces contorted into expressions of pure agony. Sirius, meanwhile, was standing still, wand in the air, but not attacking.
The wails continued for another twenty or so seconds before they stopped. The four men remained kneeling on the ground, but they seemed to be dumbfounded. Their arms were hanging loosely on their sides, their wands were on the ground next to them and they made no attempt to pick them up. Their faces were no longer twisted in pain, but bore a terrifyingly blank expression as their eyes stared emptily out into space.
Helen saw Sirius grab their wands before charging back into the house. 'We need to go,' he panted. 'I'll apparate you to Grimmauld Place. Don't worry about your things. I can send my elf here if you need anything.'
Helen and Josh each grabbed one of Sirius's hands, and the wizard turned on the spot. Helen felt like she was being squeezed through a tube. The supremely uncomfortable experience lasted only a few seconds, though, and they reappeared in what appeared to be the kitchen of a rather old-fashioned-looking house.
A small, strange creature sidled up to the table with a pot of tea and a bottle of what appeared to be flame-coloured whiskey. Sirius thanked him and poured himself a large glass of the drink and downed it in one gulp.
'Help yourself to the Firewhiskey,' Sirius said. 'It'll take some getting used to, though. Burns a lot more than regular whiskey.'
Josh tentatively poured himself a little bit of the stuff and drank it. His face twisted as he swallowed it.
'That's strong,' he choked.
'I did warn you,' Sirius replied, almost amused.
'What happened, Sirius?' Helen asked, wanting to get to the bottom of this before the men got more inebriated.
'You should thank your daughter that you're alive.'
Helen gasped. 'Hermione? She killed all those…?'
'Not directly, no,' Sirius answered. 'And I don't think they were killed so much as their souls were removed. The wards she and Harry put up did that.'
'She did say something about some spell that shredded the souls of Death Eaters,' Helen recalled.
'Not a spell, per se,' Sirius corrected. 'Ward. Spells are direct magic for the most part. A wizard or witch casts a spell. It has an effect. End of story. Wards are static. They're put up and they last until they're taken down or broken. There are some ward-like spells and spell-like wards that blur the boundaries, but that's unimportant.'
Helen nodded, shuddering a little. Even as acquainted as she had become to magic, the very idea of souls being ripped out by an unseen enchantment still shook her.
'Will we be able to go back?' Josh asked.
Sirius sighed and shook his head. 'No, you won't. Riddle's followers found out where you lived, somehow. They must've gotten a mole into the Ministry in spite of all the purges. They know that by going after you, they can strike an indirect blow against Hermione and Harry. Until Riddle is defeated and his followers are either dead or in prison, I'm afraid you'll have to stay here. This house is under the Fidelius Charm, as you know. No one I don't tell the secret to can even find it.'
Sirius smiled, seeing the obvious question on Helen and Josh's faces. 'I think you can still go to work. The Death Eaters know where you live now, but I doubt very much that they know where you work. You'll simply have to be side-along apparated to your practice every morning and back here in the evenings.'
Helen nodded. 'Did you side-along apparate us here?' she asked, remembering the discomfort.
'Not comfortable?'
'Not at all.'
'It's just something you have to get used to,' Sirius said sadly. 'It's always uncomfortable the first few times around.'
'I'm going to arrange protection for you while you're at work. I don't want to risk another attack, however unlikely it is,' he continued. 'I can ask my cousin Narcissa to do it. She doesn't have much to do right now. A fore warning, she hasn't had much experience in the non-magical world. Please don't make her feel too uncomfortable.'
'Of course,' Helen agreed.
'Why don't you make yourselves comfortable here, then?' Sirius said. 'You'll probably be here for the next week at least. I'll show you up to your room.'
