Of Arrogant Toerags and Rabid Redheads

by messenger of home-baked pie

James and Lily are polar opposites, yet exactly the same. One a Marauder, the other a Prefect, both brilliant and marvellous in their own right. Both, as Sirius Black might put it, complete idiots. Lily Evans finds herself inexplicably drawn to a changing James Potter. James finds it impossible to draw himself away from her. They were as similar and different as a stag and a doe.

32. War, Act II: Light in the Dark

Part Four - The Dead Speak

Sand blew across the German beach, stinging James' eyes and face, but he took no notice.

Anton Windstrum stood before them, and if it weren't for his hands raised in peaceful surrender, one would see his relaxed, devilish grin and think they were all good friends.

This man was the reason James had no parents, and he stood there smiling at the seven of them.

"I'm going to kill him," snarled Taureau, wand held aloft with deathly stillness.

"Hold on," murmured Edgar.

"I will not hold on!"

"I think you should hold on," said Anton.

"You need to shut up right now," Edgar said roughly, his own wand also trained on the man. He turned back to Taureau. "We need him alive."

"To turn the anti-apparition jinx off?"

"Yes."

"Killing him will turn it off anyway."

There was a pause. The Prewett brothers both looked at Edgar. "That is a very good point," said Gideon.

"It actually isn't," said Anton. They all turned back to him irritably, and his smile grew wider. "You have no idea what means I am using to block apparition into Germany. What if you kill me, and nothing changes? You will be clueless as to what to do next, and you will wish so dearly that you had listened to what dear old Anton had to say."

"And what have you to say?" asked Fabian, folding his arms.

"Many things. First of all," he gestured lightly towards them, "good to see you all. You're each looking better than the last time I saw you, which can only mean I've left a positive impact on your lives-"

Taureau stormed forwards and pressed his wand to the base of Anton's throat. "Get to the point."

Anton's eyes glittered. "Hello, Taureau. Look at you, eh? One of the good guys now."

"I would really stop provoking him, Anton," said Gideon. "He only came with us for the chance to kill you."

"But he makes it so much fun," said Anton softly, looking the man dead in the eye.

Taureau growled.

"I've changed my mind," said Edgar. "Taureau, kill him."

"I'm joking," cried Anton, laughing. "Relax, all of you! Good lord, you lot have gotten boring." He shook his head. "I am willing to cut you a deal. I'll tell you how to turn the jinx off. In exchange, you let me go free. All I want to do is leave the country."

"Why?" asked James quietly.

Anton looked at him, and paused. For a brief moment, he looked abashed. "James… your parents were good people-"

"Every question we ask you," said Taureau, pressing his wand harder against Anton's throat, "you had better answer with swiftness and precision."

"Why do I want to leave the country?" Anton looked back at the others, once again smug and aloof. "That's my business. Your business, I presume, is to get to the capital and turn off the jinx. I'll tell you how to do both, provided you let me go."

"How do we know you won't lie?" piped up Acustus.

Anton tilted his head. "Who are you? Have we met before?"

"Swiftness and precision," Taureau repeated between barred teeth, digging his wand further still.

Anton grimaced. "Right you are." His voice was strained now, and pained. He eyed the wand carefully. "I have an idea. I'll give you part of the information upfront - I'll tell you the fastest way to Berlin from here, as a show of good faith. Then you let me hop in that little rowboat over there, I start rowing away, and when I'm far enough out I'll call to you how to turn the jinx off. How does that sound?"

Taureau looked at them all. "I will not let you accept that. I am only here to kill this man, if you let him sail off then I have wasted my time and my only opportunity."

"Not necessarily," said Lily. They all looked at her. "You can still chase him once he starts rowing off, and the rest of us will go on to Berlin."

Edgar inclined his head at Taureau. "That works for everyone, right?"

"I don't like it."

"Works for me," chipped in Anton.

Taureau growled.

"It is the only way we all get what we want." Taureau nodded slowly, reluctantly. Edgar looked back at Anton. "Tell us."

"It's quite simple, really," said Anton. "We are on the coast of Hamburg right now. There is a train running to Berlin from here that will take a matter of hours. There, see? Now I've given you the first half of the information." He lowered his hands, keeping the prosthetic wooden one facing away from them all. He started creeping to the rowboat. "I'll give you the second half in a little bit, okay? Nice and easy."

They all watched him approach the boat.

"Can we really trust him?" James muttered.

Edgar snorted. "Not at all. I just want to mess with him a bit."

Anton reached the boat, turned to give them a thumbs up and an encouraging smile. Edgar smiled back, flicked his wand, and Anton flew backwards. He hit the wet sand face first, then lay still.

"We're taking him with us," said Edgar. "Once we reach Berlin we'll have turned off the jinx, and then you, Mr Barkley, are free to do whatever you wish with him. Is that acceptable?"

"It is," said Taureau, nodding.

"You cheated," Anton called, his voice muffled as he laid facedown, body unmoving.

Gideon and Fabian walked to him and hauled him up. "Come on then, Windstrum," said Gideon. "Let's get going."

His body was limp but for his sandy face, and he looked murderous. "You lied to me."

"And you killed some very good friends of ours," Edgar said evenly. "Now let's catch this train."

"No, no," said Anton, sighing. "The train is a trap, the Death Eaters will be waiting for you in the hundreds."

They all looked at him, glaring.

"What, you really trusted me? Merlin's beard, no wonder you're losing the war. No, there's a better way to Berlin from here. Much longer, mind. About a week's walk. But considerably less dangerous."

"What is it?" asked Acustus cautiously.

Anton smiled as he was held aloft by the Prewett brothers. "Tal der Toten."

"Tal der what now?" asked Lily, frowning.

His smile grew forced, betraying the slightest bit of trepidation. "The Valley of the Dead."

oOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Remus had been with the encampment of werewolves for almost a week. They woke up early each day, went hunting, ate, exercised, hunted, ate again, then slept. There was very little variety. Remus reckoned he would have been bored to death if it weren't for Eve.

She was the first female werewolf he'd encountered, as well as the only one his own age. He had fallen for her impossibly quickly. She was so intensely free-spirited, so confident, so content. Everything Remus longed to be.

He found himself irresistibly drawn to her. She was thrilling to be around, making his heart pound to the pace of a galloping horse, and he could never look away. She was addictive.

"You stare at me a lot," she said bluntly.

Remus blinked. "I- what?" They sat on some rocks, by a river trickling through the forest. The trees were sparse here, and the sun felt like it was trying to cook them. The water's shimmering surface rippled as they kicked their feet in it, cooling themselves off. It had the sheen of a million precious gems, spectacular, and Remus still couldn't look away from her.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "It's like there's something on my face, but all the time."

Remus didn't know what to say. Her head tilted as she looked at him. Her face was angular, with high cheekbones and a button nose that twitched when she sniffed. Her eyes were black, the kind Remus could easily be lost in, and her dark hair curled at the ends. She was sleek and beautiful, despite the dirt that covered her whole body, like a flower in the-

"You're doing it again."

"Right. Sorry." Remus looked away, focusing instead on the river.

"Is there something on my face, Remus?"

"No."

"Then-"

"You're just… pretty, alright?"

She looked at him for a moment, expressionless. Then she smiled and joined him in gazing out at the water. "Hmm."

"What?"

"I almost forgot what receiving a compliment feels like. One doesn't get very many out here."

Remus frowned. He glanced at her, voiced a question he'd pondered often these last few days. "Eve, how long have you been here? You can't be any older than me."

She gazed into the depths of the water, and her eyes looked distant. "Just over five years, now. I was only eleven, and I needed a place to stay. A place to belong. Pureblood parents don't take kindly to their daughter becoming a werewolf."

There was pain in her voice, faint but unmistakable to Remus, like a coin someone had tried to bury in the dirt but still gleamed in the sunlight.

"I'm so sorry," he said, having no better words.

She smiled at him again, faintly, before getting to her feet. "I'm going to take a nap."

"Oh." He nodded dumbly. "Okay."

She walked back to the trees, and was quickly lost. He cursed to himself quietly. If I'm so sorry was the best he could do, he was hopeless. He should have reached out to hold her - that was his chance.

"Next time," he told himself, shaking his head in annoyance. "Idiot."

oOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Lily didn't know what to expect. She looked to the horizon as they walked, not seeing a sign of any kind of valley, and feeling doubtful of Windstrum's directions.

"The Valley of the Dead isn't an actual valley," Fabian told her, as she squinted once more toward the distance. The eight of them trekked across a plains with very little else in sight in any direction. "It's a metaphor. To the left side, our existence before life. A state of nothingness that is even more numb and empty than death, yet with the promise of living to come. To the right, our existence after life. It is concerned with bodies, and souls. Happiness, regret. It is the unknown, and the unknowable. The great mystery. Together, they form a valley."

"Tal der Toten," said Gideon. The unhappy look on his face conveyed that he was familiar with it.

"Now, I've seen maps of Germany," said Acustus, joining them and matching their pace. "This doesn't make sense. There are Muggle roads and towns in the way between Hamburg and Berlin, how could they possibly intersect with the Valley of the Dead?"

"They don't," called Anton. He walked well behind them, dragging his feet and looking bored. "The principle is the same as with Diagon Alley. There shouldn't physically be enough space for the valley, but there is. There is so much more than that."

Edgar had forced Anton to put the glove back over his wooden hand before they'd started travelling. He then cast a charm on the glove Lily had never heard of before, effectively neutralizing whatever wand core was in the wooden hand as long as the glove was on. He cast another charm, making it impossible for Anton to pull off the glove until the charm was undone. Anton essentially had no magic.

"Walk faster," grunted Taureau, kicking Anton in the back. Anton stumbled, almost fell. He glared at Taureau, and quickened his pace.

"It would be easier if you let me take my glove off," Anton grumbled.

Edgar, walking a little ahead of them all, stopped and turned back. "I'd love to hear you explain why a glove would slow down your walking, Anton."

"My hand is itching and I can't scratch it. It's distracting me."

"Oh, you poor thing," Edgar mocked.

"I actually do think that would be quite annoying," Gideon muttered to Lily.

She shook her head.

"We're not taking the glove off, Professor," said James venomously.

Anton shrugged. "Worth a shot."

"I'm sure it was," said Edgar, turning away.

"Imagine if you really fell for it, though," said Anton, laughing as they all started walking once more. "Ahh, you'd all be dead."

oOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Rabastan Lestrange waited at the edge of the forest, leaning against a tree. It was a little past midnight, and the last of those filthy werewolves had fallen asleep. Before long, a figure came ambling towards him. It was one of the bigger ones, yet Rabastan regarded the creature like he was twice its size.

"Well?" he demanded, once the werewolf was close enough.

"I am trying," said the werewolf. "But the rest of them want nothing to do with war. They are cowards and fools."

"This I knew already," said Rabastan impatiently. "I had hoped you would have done something about it by now. I do not have time to keep checking in on you. Things in Berlin are getting very serious. We are assembling an army to storm all of Great Britain. It is imperative that Garzhand's pack join us as soon as possible."

"I will do my best."

"Will you? What were you doing up until now, I wonder?"

"I-"

"No matter." Rabastan pushed himself off the tree and prepared to apparate back to the German border. "Convince them. Coerce them. Whatever you have to do. I want a werewolf regiment in our army before the next full moon."

"But that's barely over a week away!"

Rabastan regarded the creature contemptuously. "Then you had best get to work, hadn't you?"

oOoOoOoOoOoOoO

In the late evening they came upon a town, an incredible relief to see after days on the road with no reprieve in sight. It wasn't very large, less than half the size of Hogsmeade, and it looked like the townsfolk were all Muggles.

"We'll stay the night here," said Edgar, looking around shrewdly as they walked the street. The few people on the street smiled and greeted them excitedly as they passed. James suspected they didn't get very many visitors.

"Excuse me," said Edgar to a passing man with a large belly, "is there any sort of inn that could accommodate my friends and I for the night?"

"'Course," said the man in perfect English, laughing like it was a silly question. He pointed further on. "Coller's Tavern, you'll get a nice meal and a good night's rest."

Edgar thanked him and they approached the tavern. Laughter could be heard from outside, and the smell of something exquisite reached James' nostrils. He hadn't realized just how hungry he was, nor could he remember his last good meal. Inside, the tavern was well lit, with beautiful lanterns hanging from the ceiling. Most tables were full, which was always a good sign. There were two empty ones by the bar counter, and the eight of them set themselves down into a circle, pushing the tables together.

A young lady with bright eyes and a white apron approached them, beaming. "Welcome to Coller's Tavern! How can we help you tonight?"

"Hello, love," said Gideon, leaning forward casually.

"Here we go," muttered Fabian.

"The eight of us need some rooms to stay the night," said Gideon, his voice low and smooth, trickling from his lips like honey. "I understand if you don't have eight rooms available at the last moment like this-"

"We do," the lady said promptly.

"You do?"

"Of course! And would you like dinner tonight as well?"

"Yeah," said Gideon, looking surprised at his own success. "Yeah, brilliant. Could we see a menu, please?"

"Coming right up! Though I suggest the chef's special." She leaned in like she was telling a big secret. "I'm the chef!"

"Wow," said Gideon. "How lucky for us. What is the chef's special?"

"Beef soup, cooked in our finest wine and served with the freshest bread, only came out the oven an hour ago."

"Good lord, woman," said Gideon, wiping his forehead. He looked around the table, saw the watering mouths and longing faces. "I reckon we'll get eight of those, please."

"Coming right up!"

She bustled away, and Gideon looked at the rest of them. "Merlin's beard, this is exactly what I needed. It'll really take the edge off all the traveling."

"I suppose so," said Fabian, cracking his neck. "We've earned a good rest."

"That's one hell of an understatement," said Acustus, letting out a contented sigh as he leaned back in his seat and gazed around the room. People at the other tables laughed and chatted with the kind of white noise that James had been missing these last few weeks. He hadn't even realized how much he'd longed for civilization until now.

He looked at Lily. Her eyes were tired, just as tired as James felt, but she also looked relieved to finally be able to relax.

"You alright?" he asked quietly.

She offered a smile. "Yeah. You?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

He looked to the rest of them. Edgar, Taureau, and Anton hadn't said a word in all this. They looked around the room quietly, as alert as ever. James wondered if they ever really let their guard down.

Before long the lady returned with trays laden with bowls of soup.

James' stomach growled in anticipation, and once the trays were set down he wasted no time in digging in.

It was delicious. It could have been mediocre and he would have loved it, but it truly was above and beyond. He finished his bowl, and looked at the others.

"You going to finish that?" he asked Edgar, whose bowl was almost untouched.

"We should get going," Edgar responded quietly.

"What?"

"Something is wrong," added Taureau. James saw his confusion reflected in those aviator sunglasses. The others also looked perplexed. He shook his head. "What?" he said again.

"All this isn't real, James," Anton told him, gesturing around.

"Of course it is, what do you mean?"

"How was your meal? Good?"

"Fantastic."

"Okay. Now focus. Are you still hungry?"

James paused. He was starving. Like he hadn't eaten anything at all.

"We should go," said Edgar again. He stood, and every head in the room turned to the eight of them. The chatter died instantly. The other diners didn't look friendly anymore.

"You're leaving?" the lady asked, hurrying back to the table. "But you haven't finished your meals!"

"Sorry, love," said Gideon, frowning at his bowl and setting it down. "I get the feeling you've been lying to us."

"You cannot leave," she snapped, her voice suddenly raspy. She grabbed Gideon by the wrist and he screamed, pulled his arm free. There were marks on his wrist where her fingers had been, ugly and red, like burns.

"Wraiths," shouted Fabian, throwing his bowl aside and leaping from his seat. When the bowl hit the floor, instead of smashing it simply vanished, leaving no trace that it had never existed.

"Let's go, let's go," roared Edgar, gesturing for them all to get up.

James leaped to his feet. All around the room, the friendly townsfolk were… changing. The lady smiled wickedly, as her skin turned waxy white, her teeth yellow. Her eyes leaked out of their sockets, a white goo that dripped down her cheeks, and only two faint red lights were left in those now dark abysses. The rest of the townsfolk were the same, their friendly smiles now sinister as they all ambled closer. Each wraith was a different height, different size, but the features were all the same. The malicious, hungry eyes were all the same.

Their way to the exit was blocked by the creatures, and the rest, too many to count, had them quickly surrounded.

"Copy me," said Edgar quickly. He pointed his wand up high and shouted, "Lumos!"

Bright light, blinding, poured from the tip of his wand. The wraiths shrieked, covering their eyes and cowering back. Items around the room, like plates and tables, flickered, or even disappeared altogether.

"They're creatures of darkness," Anton explained, raising his right hand before seeming to remember that his magic was blocked by the glove. "They have no power in the light."

"But there's light in this room already," cried Acustus, gesturing to the lanterns above but pulling his wand out all the same.

"It is all fake," said Taureau, raising his own wand. "An illusion."

Soon, seven of them all had their wands raised, Anton standing close by Edgar. The wraiths shrieked and screamed, but their shrieks grew softer, their forms fainter. The whole room melted away, the rest of the town going with it. Slowly, the wraiths began to disappear too, fading into the air with frustrated screeches, until it was just the eight of them standing close together, wands raised. They were back on the plains, without any sign of the town around them. Once again there was nothing on the horizon in any direction.

"They're still here," said Anton. "They just can't affect us anymore."

"I think they reside here," said Edgar, scrutinizing their surroundings closely. James couldn't see anything of interest. "They must have been real people, once. I can barely begin to guess what happened to them. We cannot stay here, we have to keep moving. Eventually they'll give up on us and return here once more."

They started walking again, slowly, cautiously.

"Keep your wands lit," Anton cautioned. "It's the only defence."

Taureau nodded. "A little light will always keep the darkness at bay, but let it out for even a moment and you will be overwhelmed and consumed."

They began to walk in that fashion, wands raised, eyes wide, hearts pounding, not daring to relax for a second.

It was a long night.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoO

For Frank, Alice, and Kingsley, the last week had been quiet, the dangerous kind that one never knew quite what to make of. After discovering the house full of those precious few resisting the Death Eater administration in Berlin, sixteen in all, with scarcely any fighters among them, they had established that house as their headquarters. Since then, the mission for all of them was to recruit more. As many more as possible.

"When our covert team enables apparition into Germany once more," Kingsley had told them all at the first official briefing, as they stood around a chipped wooden table in the sitting room, "our invasion force will arrive, and together we will take back Germany. However, on that day we will be needed. Our invasion force will be outnumbered, no matter how much support they rally, and it is essential that when they apparate in we are ready, and we are as numerous as possible. Go out, recruit as many able bodied witches and wizards as you can. That is our one and only mission for now."

Frank and Alice once again found themselves walking the streets of Berlin, looking for any more resistance in hiding.

"How are we supposed to find resistance in hiding," Frank complained to his girlfriend, "if they're all hiding?"

It wasn't the first time he'd voiced this concern, and nor was it the first time Alice shrugged helplessly in response. "I have no clue."

The streets were still crowded. The Muggles continued to roam about without a care in the world. The wizards and witches could be spotted by the fear on their faces, the quickness in their step, the involuntary shudders when a figure in a black cloak walked past.

The latter happened now. Beside Frank and Alice, two men in black cloaks strolled past, wands tucked into their belts with no attempt being made to hide them.

The teens moved to the side and averted their eyes so as to not attract attention, but they were close enough to pick up on the conversation between the two men.

"-and they say it will happen within the next week," said one.

"A week?" said the other. "Can we really muster an army that quickly?"

"We already have, haven't we?"

"But surely it's not yet big enough to march upon England. They have the most powerful magical community in the world! Moody, Dumbledore, Crouch-"

"Nothing compared to the Dark Lord," spat the first. "According to Artem, our army here in Berlin is projected to be the largest magical military force since before the Statute of Secrecy!"

The two Death Eaters continued their stroll, but Frank and Alice slowed, their faces portraying identical alarm. Though the enemy clearly didn't know that British Aurors were being rallied as they spoke, the teens' worst fear had been confirmed - the Death Eaters were raising their own army.

It had become a race to see who invaded first.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Remus would see Garzhand, Torza, and various other werewolves talking often, sitting on logs of wood arranged in a circle, clearly having a meeting. It was never a closed meeting. Other werewolves would often gather around them, listening intently, though external input didn't seem to be welcome.

Tonight, as most werewolves slept beneath the stars, one such meeting was taking place. A small handful of others stood outside the circle, listening quietly. Remus saw that Eve was one of those spectators, and it was like his legs had a mind of their own. Soon he stood right beside her, joining her in watching the meeting. She offered him a smile, and he smiled back, the sort of smile he hoped conveyed that he was here because he wanted to listen, and not just because she was here too

"-I think it would be of great benefit to us," said Torza. The man seemed to be Garzhand's number two, and apparently his cousin. The two did share a striking resemblance, with their large frames and gleaming eyes belonging more to a jungle cat than a person.

"We will not fight a human war," said Garzhand, shaking his head. "No matter what side it is. The pack will not be a tool for them to wield when needed and discard when not."

"I agree with you absolutely," said Torza. "That is why I am not proposing we side with the British Ministry. They have never done a thing for us, and never will. Rabastan Lestrange, however, is offering us a place at their table."

"And why should we be any more inclined to trust the Death Eaters?" spoke up Koza. All eyes turned to the old man, father of Garzhand and uncle to Torza. "What reason have they given us to trust them? The humans call us half-breeds, they have hunted us for sport for centuries. If we help these Death Eaters, they will return us to the status quo if we win, which does not work, or happily let us rot in cells if we lose."

"Garzhand," said Torza, turning to his cousin, "this could be an opportunity to usher the pack into a new era. A catalyst leading to equality for werewolves one day in the future. A chance to improve the quality of life for our kind for all the years to come. That is how Garzhand's pack could one day be remembered."

Garzhand looked at his cousin for a few seconds, his sharp eyes focussed and calculating. Deliberating.

"A beautiful dream," said Koza, nodding. "But a dream nonetheless. I know humans very, very well. Well enough that I came to the conclusion long ago that werewolves exist most happily in isolation from the rest of the world. That is why we are here. That is why we are thriving. Joining an army will lose us precious lives, and the outcome will be meaningless. Another selfish administration of selfish humans who care not for anything that they cannot see, hear, or touch, as it does not affect them personally. This is a bad idea."

Garzhand glanced quickly at his father, and whether or not this was what he had been thinking already was impossible for Remus to decipher. He nodded shortly and looked back at his cousin. "We will not accept their offer, Torza."

Torza gave the impression of someone who longed to grit their teeth and yell, but a smile found his face instead and he shrugged. "Alright. It makes no difference to me, really."

"Good-"

"Although if I may make one more suggestion," continued Torza. Garzhand paused, and raised an eyebrow. "We are a week's walk from Germany. Now, Oimo and Darga report that there is less game to hunt this season, correct? What if we approach the border to Germany, just for a change of scenery? I am not sure what, but something big is happening in Berlin right now. Ideally we won't get involved in the slightest, but if we're close at hand when the time comes? Should we be needed? We'll be perfectly placed to offer assistance, make our presence felt. Maybe we won't help at all, but we will at least have the option."

Garzhand tilted his head. If he glanced at his father he would have seen a disapproving frown, but he didn't. "That," said Garzhand, "is a good idea. Harmless, with potential reward."

It was decided, then, that the pack would once again be traveling. The conversation moved to other points of concern, but Remus stopped listening. Only now did he remember that he was here on a mission of his own - and after hearing all that, it seemed impossible.

How was he supposed to get them to fight for his side?

oOoOoOoOoOoOoO

"The Valley of the Dead," repeated Sirius, frowning. In his hands he held a two-way mirror which, rather than showing Sirius his own reflection, held instead the face of James upon its surface, who had the mirror's counterpart. Sirius sat under a tree, not far from the campfire where the others lounged about. A spell had been cast on the fire, making the smoke it gave off invisible to the eye so as to not give away their location to the encampment of werewolves a few kilometers away.

The werewolves had started travelling again, for no apparent reason. Following them without being spotted was a difficult task, and Sirius and the others were grateful whenever the werewolves halted at the end of the day to rest.

"Yeah," said James. "Spooky business, mate. The things I've seen-" There was whispering on the other end. "No, I haven't told him about the wraiths yet."

"Hi, Lily," Sirius said loudly.

"Hi," whispered back the voice of Lily Evans.

"The others are sleeping right now," explained James, his face growing bigger as he leaned closer to his mirror. "We have early mornings, because we actually have a job to do."

"Oi," said Sirous reproachfully. "Our job is important. If something goes wrong on Remus' end we're his only backup."

"If you could swap with us, would you?"

"In a heartbeat."

James laughed.

"Hey, tell me you brought your deluminator with you," said Sirius suddenly. It had been a year since the boys had last used their deluminators, back in Diagon Alley. A year since their first real skirmish with Death Eaters. The two deluminators, the boys' replication of another model they had found in Dumbledore's office years ago, allowed the holder of one to apparate to wherever the holder of the other was. Most notable was that it ignored anti-apparition jinxes. It was a remarkable piece of magic that they rarely had any use for, and though Sirius kept his own on his person now simply out of habit, it had occurred to him the other night what brilliant applications they could have given the current political climate.

James' eyes widened. "Oh, mate."

"Yeah?" said Sirius hopefully. "You packed it in your bags?"

"I did," said James, nodding slowly.

Sirius waited. When James said nothing more, he had to prompt him. "So you have it?"

"Oh, mate," James said again. "We, er… we jumped out of the plane. And, well, we didn't take our bags with us."

"Why did you jump out of-" Sirius stopped himself. "That's fine. The deluminator is at least in Germany, right? That means we can already apparate an army in."

"We jumped out because we learned Death Eaters were waiting for us at the Berlin airport. I imagine they searched our bags when the plane reached without us on it. You…" James' expression was pained, "You should probably destroy the deluminator, Padfoot. They might figure out how to use my one. It could jeopardize everything."

Sirius stared at his absolute idiot of a best friend. "You utter moron."

James nodded sheepishly.

"All those hours we put into these things…"

"Yep."

"And now I have to destroy it."

"I am sorry, you know."

"I should certainly think so!" Sirius waved the deluminator in front of the mirror dramatically, tapped it with his wand, and it cracked clean in half, the chipped plastic giving way easily. It was done. Sirius shuddered.

"It was the right thing to do," James offered tentatively.

"I can't talk to you right now," Sirius snapped, turning the mirror face down onto the grass.

He heard James' laughing voice. "Love you, Padfoot."

"Bugger off," he muttered. He pocketed the mirror and got to his feet, shaking his head at his friend's complacency. When he reached the campfire, he was surprised to see Millicent and Johan, returned from their shift of watching the werewolves.

"Everything alright?" he asked.

Millicent had a bag over her shoulder. "Ah, there you are. I have to leave, unfortunately. I received a patronus from Dumbledore - lucky that the werewolves were asleep. He needs me back. He's struggling to convince the Ministry to give us Aurors."

"Oh," said Sirius slowly.

"I don't have a lot of time, I've already told the others but Johan and Helena will be in charge now. Listen to them."

"Okay."

"Listen to them, Sirius."

"Yeah, alright," he said defensively. "I will."

She nodded, nodded again at the others. Then she turned on the spot. With a crack, she was gone.

"Wastes no words, that one," said Marlene.

"Okay," said Johan, "nothing changes except our shifts to watch the werewolves. We will now have more shifts each, as there are less of us."

Sirius stopped paying attention at that point. Right until he heard his name come up, at which point he frowned and protested, but to no avail.

Half an hour later, he found himself lying belly down in grass, watching werewolves sleep through a pair of omnioculars. "This isn't fair," he said again.

Marlene snorted, lying on her back beside him and gazing up at the stars. Werewolf watching shifts with Marlene tended to be uncomfortable. They simply fought too easily these days. Granted, it was generally Sirius' fault. He was still so angry with her, he usually wanted to fight. Not tonight, though.

He decided to mix things up.

"How was your day, McKinnon?"

A silence. He imagined she was looking at him in surprise. "Alright," she said after a moment. "Boring. Yours?"

"About the same. Hey, what do you reckon about the werewolf girl Remus has been following around?"

He heard her roll onto her front and shimmy over. "I haven't actually seen her yet, only heard you lot go on about her. Toss me the omnioculars."

He handed them over, watched her as she lifted them to her eyes. "Which one is she?"

"I can't pick her out right now," he replied. "It's dark and they're all sleeping."

She handed him back the omnioculars and rolled her eyes. "Why did you ask me, then?"

"What do you make of her in theory?"

She took a moment, then shrugged. "Good for Remus, I suppose. As long as he's still focused on the mission, I'm happy for him."

"Of course," said Sirius. "Only… I've never seen him behave like this. Pete and I were watching him yesterday, and he was following her around like a puppy."

"That's sweet."

"Is it?"

"What, you think she might get in the way of his mission?"

"I don't know what I think." He sighed. "Remus is so hard to read sometimes. James would normally know what to make of it, but when I explained it to him over our two-way mirrors, he wasn't sure either."

She gave him a look that was far too knowing for his liking. "You wish James were here."

He snorted. "Not likely."

"You miss your best friend."

"No."

"It's okay, Black." She nudged him lightly. "I'm sure James misses you too."

He rolled his eyes, she giggled, and he looked away. He didn't want her to see him smiling.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoO

When Lily first saw the lake in the far off distance, she thought it was a mirage. They hadn't seen a body of water since they'd picked up Windstrum on the beach, and the walking and heat and monotony of the trek since then had her longing for a swim, a proper bath. Drinking obviously wasn't a problem so long as they had their wands, but the grime and sweat built up over this time made Lily want to shudder when she thought about it.

They ran to the lake, panting, laughing, stumbling even. James and Anton got there first, looking like they planned to dive in as soon as they reached, but both skidded to a halt at the same time, stopping right at the edge of the water. Lily and the others frowned as they caught up. She looked at James' face. He looked shocked, his mouth open, fingers shaking.

She looked at the lake, and her own eyes widened. There, on the surface of the water, Mr and Mrs Potter smiled up at James, waving and holding each other. They looked so vivid, as though they were really there, under the water. It was real, and tangible. Just as real as Sirius had seemed, speaking to them from the surface of James' two-way mirror. Mr Potter started moving his mouth, as though talking.

Only silence.

Suddenly an echo of something, a buzzing, a whisper. And then a voice."We miss you, son."

Lily gasped. Edgar cursed softly.

"I- I miss you too," James choked.

"We love you, darling," said Mrs Potter, beaming proudly.

"I love you too." He looked tortured, and sounded it too.

"Then come with us." Mrs Potter extended a hand, and Mr Potter joined her, and it looked like their fingertips were an inch beneath the water's surface, just below. Waiting.

James reached his hand out to the lake's surface, almost touching-

Edgar grabbed his wrist and shoved him back. "No!"

James stumbled into Lily, and she put her hands on his shoulders. He was shaking.

When she looked back at the water, Mr and Mrs Potter were gone.

Something moved.

She looked closer, and her blood froze. Bodies drifted beneath the surface of the lake, their skin pale and bloated, their faces a wretched sheet of flesh, decayed and worn away.

"Victims," said Edgar grimly. "Lured beneath the surface."

"The question is," said Taureau, "is it the lake that killed them, or something in it?"

No one had an answer. Lily looked at the water, wondering if she would see her parents there if she stepped forward just a little. If it wasn't real, if they would simply be twisted figments of her imagination, did she even want to?

Anton took a deep breath, and they all looked at him. He hadn't looked away from the surface, and there Lily saw a familiar face.

Eugenia Jenkins glared up at the man. "You killed me."

"That's not true."

"I died because of you."

"You had to," he said. "You found out my secret."

More faces appeared. "And me?" asked Sawyer Hughes.

"I-"

"Me?" asked Emmett Fawley.

Taureau grunted when Fawley appeared, fists clenching.

"Sacrifices had to be-"

"And me, old friend?" asked Caradoc Dearborn, appearing before all the others and smiling sadly at Anton. "Did I have to be sacrificed?"

"I didn't want to," Anton said forcefully.

"But you did." Caradoc stretched his hand out. "And you deserve to join us."

"No," muttered Anton.

"You do."

"No!" Anton covered his head with his hands, pulled at his hair.

"What if we push him in?" whispered Gideon.

Taureau snorted loudly and covered his mouth.

Everyone turned to stare at the man.

"What?" he said.

"I didn't know you could laugh," said Gideon.

"It was funny."

Lily didn't think so. She was still holding James, who stood steady now but she refused to let go. They watched Anton. Eventually he turned away from the water and looked at them with a completely neutral expression. "We'll have to walk around it. Let's go."

For once, he took the lead. They all followed in silence.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoO

"Breathe, Remus."

He was trying. He sat cross-legged across from Koza, beneath a canopy of tall trees some distance from where the pack had made camp for the night. They'd made good progress towards Germany, with perhaps only a few days of travel left.

"Just breathe."

Remus didn't want to be rude to the old man, but he already was breathing. What was he supposed to do, breathe harder?

"The werewolf who is master of his mind is master of his transformation."

"You mean to say that it's possible to stay in control during a full moon?" Remus asked, cracking open an eye.

"Yes. Close your eyes."

"Can you do it? Can everyone?"

"Every werewolf has the potential to master their form, but very few can do it. It takes dedication, years of training and practice before even the slightest signs of improvement show."

Remus deflated. "Oh."

"But it can be done. I have done it, as has Garzhand, and Torza, and a number of others. You must believe that you can do it, Remus. Breathe."

Remus sighed, and inhaled deeply.

"Be at peace. Only once you find complete calm within can you draw upon that calm during a full moon. The natural state of the human psyche is a storm, tumultuous and unstable. You must see inside yourself peace. An ocean so still and pure that you can see to the bottom. A forest as lush and vibrant as the one we are in right now."

Remus exhaled slowly, then breathed deeper.

"Who are you?" Koza asked.

"I am Remus Lupin."

"No."

Remus cracked an eye open again. "No?"

"Close your eyes."

He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes once more.

"Search the center of your inner storm. Find yourself in the eye of the hurricane. Then, calm that storm. Control it, for it is yours."

Remus didn't know what the old man was talking about. He couldn't see any bloody storm inside himself. Only the blackness of the inside of his eyelids.

"Life will always try to rock a steady boat. It is your duty to stay at the helm. During a full moon you are lost at sea, your boat overturned, and you are drowning in the storm. And why? Because you never learned to calm it."

Remus was getting tired of the metaphors. He was a patient person, far more so than the rest of his friends, but he was quickly running out of it.

"Just breathe, Remus."

An hour or so later, he walked through the forest with Eve by his side, amusing her as he furiously recounted his meditation session.

"And the whole time, all he would tell me to do was bloody breathe! I mean, what does he think I'm doing? Will I forget to breathe without him bloody well telling me to every ten seconds?"

She let out a bout of giggles. "That's exactly why I stopped meditating. It's a complete waste of time if you ask me."

"But don't you want to learn how to stay in control during a full moon?" he asked her, as they skirted around a bush. He kept an eye out for any signs of wildlife they could grab for dinner.

"Oh Remus, it's impossible," she said dismissively. "Sure, Koza and his son and nephew can do it, but they're basically werewolf royalty. They say that Koza can trace his genealogy all the way back to King Lycaon himself!"

"He spoke of others," insisted Remus. "Others in the pack who can do it."

"Yeah, that's true enough," she said. "And they're all eighty something years old. No wonder they can 'calm their inner storm', they're already half dead."

Remus snorted, but internally he cursed. So he'd been given false hope. "Well, the old man failed to mention tha-"

They stepped through some shrubbery and stumbled upon a group of six naked figures, lying on the ground or pressed against the trees and against one another. All were so engrossed in one another, clawing and moaning and-

"What the devil," he bellowed.

None looked up. They didn't even pause.

Eve burst into a fit of laughter, and pulled him back out of the shrubbery and away from all the figures. He could still hear their- their noises. He glared at the shrubbery that kept the figures hidden as if it were the culprit.

"What in the world do they think they're doing?" he demanded of her.

She paused her laughter - her face was red - to give him a disbelieving look. "You don't know what they were doing?"

"No, I know what they were doing," said Remus quickly, his face coloring. "But- but that sort of carry-on is completely inappropriate!"

She stared at him for a moment, and then burst into laughter again. He glared harder. "Remus," she said, "that's how things are in the pack. There is no class, no nine hour job every day. No rent to pay. You feed yourself from nature's resources, you find somewhere to sleep, and then you find a way to pass your time. The pack works because we can protect each other if need be, and be with each other. And if we're older and so inclined, get with each other."

He had been with the pack for weeks already, but every day he was reminded just how alien this all was to him. "And you…" He cleared his throat. "Do you, er, 'get with' anyone… from time to time?"

She eyed him with a smile that might have been coy on any other girl, but came across as more amused than anything else. "From time to time," she said. "Now come on, let's kill some deer." She pulled him along by the arm, still chuckling to herself. "I can't believe you said what the devil. You are too much, you know that?"

oOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Another campfire, another cold, dreadful night in the Valley of the Dead. James chewed on dried meat and gazed into the fire, not thinking of anything in particular. Lily was behind him, her back rested against his, their heads touching. Acustus was fast asleep on the ground. Anton sat on a log with his eyes closed, massaging his forearm where it connected to the wood of his hand. Taureau sat close by him, as he always did. James figured it was just in case Anton tried making a run for it. The Prewett brothers and Edgar were studying a map by the fire, trying to work out how many more nights it would take before they reached Berlin. The skin on Gideon's wrist was still blotchy and raw where the wraith had touched him.

It was one of the rare quiet moments the group got, and they didn't feel like filling it with chatter.

James, feeling himself beginning to doze off, finished the last of his dried meat and shifted himself into a more comfortable position without waking Lily. He glanced at the sky, littered with stars that illuminated some of the surrounding terrain beyond the campfire's reach, and he wondered how many hours of sleep he might get before Edgar woke him up in the morning.

His eyes began to close, and that's when he saw silhouettes in the distance. James frowned, sat bolt upright.

Figures moving in the dark. Lots and lots of figures.

"Guys," James said quietly, pulling out his wand, "we're not alone out here."

The others were up immediately. They'd been forced to learn how quickly the quiet could turn deadly in the valley.

Edgar raised his wand and a bright light shone from it, illuminating their surroundings.

The figures ambled quickly towards them from every direction. They were humans, or perhaps once had been. Their eyes were only white, cloudy, disturbing. Flesh decaying on their faces, rags hanging from their bodies, hands reached out, grasping the empty air with long, swiping nails. Dead, mindless, re-animated corpses.

"Inferi," Lily breathed.

The small group formed a circle, facing outwards at the horde that surrounded them completely. James gazed over the tops of the dead heads, and was dismayed to see no end to them. As far as he could see by the stars and the wandlight, there were only more and more of the creatures swarming towards them.

"There's no end," he muttered.

"Their weaknesses are fire and light," Fabian reminded the group.

"Indeed. We'll burn them all," Taureau growled. He waved his wand in a great swooping motion, and a pillar of flame burst horizontally into the horde. James had to close his eyes from the heat, and felt his face begin to burn. The fire roared like they were standing in the throat of a dragon, and the creatures nearby shirked away from it, screeching and covering their faces. Taureau ended the spell with another flourish of his wand, and the flames ceased to be.

The creatures caught by the spell lay on the ground, smoking heaps of cooked flesh. But some walked on, still aflame, impervious to the fact that they were still being roasted as they walked.

"They're resisting it," said James, shooting flames of his own at nearing creatures and cursing as they walked through the fire. "They should be more affected than this!"

"Then they're not Inferi," muttered Anton. "They're something else."

"Like what?" cried Acustus, trying and failing to deter another creature.

"Oh, let me just check my copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. I don't know! All that matters is they won't die!" Anton turned to Edgar. "We need all the fire and light we can get. Let me take the glove off."

"No," growled Edgar, pointing his shining wand in a creature's face and glaring when it did nothing.

"We're being overrun," Anton yelled. Their little circle grew tighter. Each of them tried to create as much space against the horde as they could, but soon those grasping hands with those long, sharp nails would be close enough to grab them. "I'll put the glove back on afterwards, I swear to you!"

"Your word means nothing," Taureau roared. He brought his wand in a wide circle above his head. A cocoon of fire enveloped the eight of them, and the creatures were blocked from view. The flames spun around them in an endless circle, bright, almost blinding. The heat was unbearable, stinging James' face and hands. He felt like he was inside the sun itself.

James raised a hand in front of his face, shielding himself from the heat. "Make a decision soon," he yelled over the roar of flame. "I can't endure this for much longer!"

Edgar and Taureau exchanged a glance before Edgar turned back to Anton. "If you make me regret this…"

Anton shrugged. "If I betray you, you'll be dead long before you can regret a thing."

"That's reassuring," Gideon muttered.

Edgar didn't look pleased, but he tapped Anton's glove with his wand and Anton yanked it off and handed it to him.

"Better," said Anton. He looked at Taureau. "James has a point, by the way. This heat is unbearable."

Taureau twirled his wand again, and the flames petered out, leaving them in the open once more.

The horde began to fill the space without hesitation, climbing over the charred bodies that had likely tried to push through the cocoon. Anton raised his hand and a beam of flame erupted from it, thin but potent. It sliced through the bodies, leaving the smell of burnt, blackened meat in the air wherever he turned his palm.

James returned to shooting balls of flame at any creatures who broke the perimeter. They created some space again. It was working. But for how long?

"They're not stopping," said Acustus, glancing over the heads and still seeing no end. "We'll be overrun before the sun rises!"

James looked over as many heads as he could in the darkness. Nothing. No hint of salvation. Except…

"What's that light?" he yelled.

In one direction, James realized that the horde actually petered out, eventually opening up into open space. Far, far off along that open space was a small, flickering green light.

The others followed his gaze, found the little green light and frowned. "I guess we'll find out," said Fabian, turning back to fend off some nearing creatures. "That's the only direction that the horde isn't coming at us from. It's the only way we can go."

"But then the valley must want us to go there," said Lily. "We're being forced that way. It could be a trick, or somehow worse than all this."

"Unfortunately," said Edgar, sending a stream of flame into the horde, "it could be our only way out."

"What choice do we have?" asked Gideon.

Gradually, the group began to shuffle towards the light. It was grueling work, and they had to fight the horde tooth and nail to move forward even at a snail's pace.

As they moved, they began to see the green light better, and James realized that it was actually a house. Two stories, crooked, as though built by a child. The green light came from a window on the top floor, so bright it illuminated the house even from this distance. Around the house was a waist high gate of bent metal bars.

As far as potential salvation from a horde of monsters went, James would take anything he got.

One of the creatures took advantage of James' attention lapse, and was right in front of his face before he could even process it. Those cloudy eyes, sharp yellow teeth, a foul, rotten breath assailing his face. The moment stretched into a thousand as James saw real death before his eyes.

Then, the creature's head was blasted from its body. "No time for daydreams, Potter," said Anton, incinerating another creature that took the place of the first. "Keep moving!"

James nodded sharply and went back to cursing the creatures.

The eight of them continued inching forward. At long last, they cleared the final wave of creatures between them and the house. All that was left was a long, open stretch until they reached the house's metal gate.

Edgar glanced back, saw the army of creatures right on their heels, jaws snapping and hands grasping, and he turned back to the group. "Run," he bellowed.

They didn't need telling twice.

It was a sprint, a long one, longer than any normal person should be able to do. The danger told their hearts to pump blood faster, their lungs to work harder, and their limbs to be stronger than ever before, and they sprinted as fast as they could over the long stretch before them.

The creatures couldn't keep up, and a gap began to grow between the pursuers and their quarry. James almost laughed at the taste of safety.

Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw someone trip over.

They all stopped, turned to see Acustus sprawled on the ground, dazed.

"Get up," James screamed to him.

The man started to, pushing himself to his feet in a dazed manner.

Then the creatures caught up, and with a swipe of those long, sharp fingernails, James watched Acustus' throat get ripped out. Blood and flesh flew through the air, and Acustus' eyes rolled back into his head. He didn't even make a sound.

Gideon repelled the creatures from the fallen body and stooped, picked Acustus up and slung the man's unmoving form over his shoulder. "Keep running," Gideon said, already sprinting on. "We can tend to him once we're safe."

Numbly, James picked the pace back up. The seven of them quickly approached the house, close enough now that James could see the cracked cobblestone on the narrow path leading to a door of rotting wood. He could see the paint peeling on every surface of the house, and rippling cracks running through every window.

They reached the open gate, and James looked back at the now distant horde as he passed the threshold of the metal bars. One moment, an endless sea of rotting bodies. As soon as he passed through the gate, all of those bodies disappeared. He couldn't see them, couldn't hear them. He only gazed out at the empty plains, lit up in green light, and by the stars above. It looked like nothing was out there in the looming mass of darkness, but James knew better.

"I'd advise you not to step back past that threshold," said Fabian, standing next to him. "See this?"

James looked down. There was a symbol etched into the cobblestone, where the path to the house started. It consisted of two lines swerving around one another in complex, painstaking detail. The lines swirled outwards, ultimately forming a circle the size of a fist.

"The Lében sigil," said Fabian. "A life barrier. My guess is that only the living can cross this rickety old gate." He slapped his hand against the metal bars.

"So that means…" James turned around. The others were gathered around Acustus. "He's still alive?"

James and Fabian joined the rest, gazing down at Acustus in horror. There was no end to the blood gushing from the man's neck. His eyes were closed. Edgar and Gideon were doing their best to help him. Whatever spells they were casting, they were casting them quickly. Nothing seemed to be happening.

"He's alive," muttered Edgar. "But we're losing him."

Lily's hand covered her mouth, and she looked at James, her face bone white. He reached out, and she came, nestling under his arm, her head against his chest. He buried his face in her hair. It didn't smell of any fancy shampoo. They hadn't bathed properly since stepping off The Chestnut, and even then the conditions had been rough at best.

Fabian cursed softly. Anton stared at a spot on the ground. None of them spoke. They stood in silence for just under six minutes, waiting for Acustus Proudfoot to die.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoO

"Aren't you worried someone will see you?" Remus asked, fidgeting with the fabric of the torn and meagre rags on his body.

"Someone is already seeing me," said Eve, looking like she was very much enjoying his discomfort. "You."

Her rags were tossed aside, and she stood before him naked as the day she was born. Moonlight illuminated her body, but he kept his eyes focussed strictly on her face. She met his gaze and bit her lip. Why did she always look so amused?

Then she spread her arms wide, like an angel, let herself fall back without losing that grin, and she dropped into the lake behind her more gracefully than Remus had done a thing in his life. Water burst up into the air, and Remus took a step back to avoid the spray. Then he let out a breath and took two steps forward, standing on the water's edge. His fingers curled around the edges of his rags. Why on earth did he agree to go skinny dipping?

Eve broke the surface of the water and backstroked easily, watching him. "Come on, then. It's not that deep."

It wasn't the water he was afraid of.

"Close your eyes," he called, his voice cracking a little.

She giggled. "Seriously?"

"Close them!"

After a moment, she complied, eyes shut tight.

Breath in.

Breath out.

In one motion, Remus tore the rags from his body and flung them aside. He felt the breeze on every part of him. It was freeing as much as it had been daunting. It had been incredibly daunting.

After a moment, he started laughing. Then he glanced at Eve.

Her eyes were open. She was biting her lip again.

"Oi," he cried. He leaped into the lake to protect his modesty. It was freezing, chilling, so jarring, as if his body hadn't believed he'd really do it.

He broke the surface and opened his eyes.

Breathe in.

Remus started laughing again, paddling lightly, feeling a confidence that had been so fleeting his whole life but felt so natural in this moment.

Suddenly, Eve was right in front of him. She was submerged up to her neck, and so, so close. Their eyes met, and Remus didn't have the slightest ounce of insecurity or trepidation within. It didn't even occur to him that he should have.

Breathe out.

She was on him, her mouth on his with an intense passion, and the same passion sprang forth from Remus too, from an instinctual, carnal place within he hadn't known existed. His hands found her neck, her hair, stomach, breasts, back, and they travelled lower still. Her hands worked a magic on every inch of him, and he let out a soft sound into her mouth as she too went lower.

Remus Lupin would die at a relatively young age. He lived much longer than all his friends, of course, but that wasn't saying much.

"Have you done this before?" she breathed.

"No."

"I'll go slow, okay?"

He died at thirty-eight. Compared to his friends, a wrinkly old man. And in that life, there were only a small handful of times he could look back on at the very end and say to himself, 'Yes. I truly belonged there.'

Being with Eve, in a lake not far from the border of Germany, learning about the birds and the bees, bodies and euphoria, was one of those precious few times.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Part Five - Taureau Barkley

It was still dark when they finished burying Acustus. It hadn't taken them long. Lily supposed that with the help of magic, these sorts of things could be much faster. Not like picking up a shovel and digging into the ground with one's own blood, sweat, and literal tears.

When it was done, the seven of them stood around the fresh mound of dirt, at a loss for what to say. None of them had really known the man.

"What was his name?" asked Anton, his low voice the only break in the windless, soundless night.

"Acustus," said James. "But please, Professor. Don't act like you care."

"You're right." Anton shrugged. "Why should I? I've killed a lot of people. But as you all might have pieced together by now, it is not the easiest thing to shrug away. Not for me, and not for anyone, no matter how much they try to play it off. Except for the Dark Lord, perhaps. I see murder as a necessary evil, but I am just as affected by death as the rest of you. Now I did not know this boy, but I believe every person deserves some words spoken over their body at the very end, don't you?"

"His name was Acustus," said Fabian. "An Auror for a couple of months. Maybe a year. He was among those sent to hunt down Caradoc Dearborn, the man who you framed and killed, Anton. Acustus was plagued by guilt, and so he joined our team. A team dispatched to bring you to justice. That was his only motivation to be here. Now, like so many others before him, here he lies, and there you stand. Spare us your self-pitying, pious bullshit. We don't want to hear it. Wise words spoken over dead bodies carry a foul stench, especially when you're the one who put them under the ground."

Anton raised a hand at Fabian. The wooden one. "I had nothing to do with this man's fate."

Edgar raised his wand at Anton. "Now is as good a time as any to remind you of your promise, Windstrum." He dug swiftly into his pocket, then threw the black glove at Anton's feet. "Put it on right now, or Acustus won't be buried alone."

Anton looked amused. "You would kill me?"

"No," growled Taureau, his own wand now rising. "I would."

Anton's amused expression deepened. "Now wouldn't that be a spectacle."

"We don't have time for this," snapped Edgar. "Put the glove on. Now."

After a moment, Anton lowered his hand. The others slowly lowered their wands. "I have every intention of keeping my promise, Mr Bones. I merely want to raise the point that this glove is not needed. I could have betrayed you back there, against the horde. It would have been so easy. Instead, I helped. I saved young James' life, at one point." James looked annoyed. That's how Lily knew the words were true. "My point is, we are not enemies. Please understand that." He picked up the glove and slid it on. Edgar wordlessly tapped his wand to it, preventing Anton from taking it off again. "I'm keeping my promise," Anton continued. "I wish to leave this damn country, but I also now share your desire to see the Dark Lord fall."

This was news to the rest of them. Did it mean Windstrum was a traitor to the Death Eaters? That would mean he'd have betrayed both sides now, Lily noted.

No one seemed to know what to say to this. Eventually, Gideon stepped forward, pointed his wand at the mound of dirt before them all, drawing them back to the situation at hand. "We should leave him a headstone. Something to mark his place here." He flicked his wand, and stone jutted out of the ground. Lines carved their way through the stone in tidy calligraphy.

Acustus Proudfoot. A Good Man.

"Do you remember how scared he was back on The Chestnut, when the maelstrom hit?" asked Fabian.

Light chuckles found the air.

"He pretended to faint three times," said Edgar, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Just as an excuse to hide inside the cabin during the storm. I cast Enervate on him and he still pretended to be out cold!"

"He was going to be the drummer in our band," Gideon remembered. He looked at his brother. "We were going to record our album with him."

The others snorted.

They continued reflecting on the man's life for what felt like a long time. Long enough. However, the sky was still just as dark afterward, even once they'd said all there was to say. It meant it was time to move on.

The seven of them gradually turned and stood before the house, illuminated by that eerie green light in the top floor window.

"It's going to be haunted, isn't it?" said James resignedly.

"At this point, I'd be almost disappointed if it weren't," said Fabian.

"Normally I would recommend we rest for the night," Edgar told the group. "We're all exhausted, mentally and physically. Unfortunately, time is not our friend. We're late as it is, and we need to be in Berlin as soon as possible. We've studied the map, and I suspect that this house is our last obstacle; the final stop in the Valley of the Dead." He let those words sink in. They had almost made it through the nightmare. "Let's deal with this as fast as we can, and we'll soon be in Berlin. Sound good?" There were nods all around. "Good."

As one, they walked the rest of the way up the cobblestone path. Edgar climbed two stairs and reached for the doorknob. The moment he got his hand around it, it disappeared within his fingers. The door was just a blank sheet of beaten, splintered wood with no way to open it.

"Everyone, stop," said Edgar, holding up a hand. They all froze right behind him. "Take a few steps back."

With confused glances at each other, the rest of them stepped back down the two steps and onto the cobblestone.

The doorknob reappeared right where it had been. Edgar grunted in response, then rammed his shoulder against the door. Not a budge. He tapped his wand to the wood, and frowned. Whatever he was checking, it didn't seem to be quite what he wanted. He turned back to the rest of them. "Fabian, place a foot on the first step."

With understanding crossing his face, Fabian touched his foot to the step. The doorknob disappeared again. He lifted it, and there it was once more.

"It seems," said Edgar, "that we must enter the house one at a time. Alone."

"Whatever is haunting this place wants to separate us," said Fabian.

Edgar nodded. "And it isn't giving us a choice… Listen up, you lot. Ghosts and spirits cannot harm us. Once they cross the living plane to that of death, their influence on the physical all but ceases to be. Their real harm is in the mental, and the spiritual. They can do nothing to you that you won't do to yourself. Be strong."

Lily cleared her throat. "Poltergeists can harm us though, right? I mean, Peeves back at school throws things at us all the time."

Edgar grimaced. "If it's a poltergeist in there, we may be in trouble if we're separated."

"Whatever it is, we'll just exorcize it," growled Taureau.

"Easier said than done," said Anton. "They've been trying to get rid of old Peeves for centuries. I'm not sure how much we can do to whatever's in there."

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it," said Edgar. "Hopefully we'll be able to regroup in there at some point. Now is everyone ready to proceed?"

When each had nodded, he opened the door. Lily couldn't see anything past his figure, and then he stepped inside and the door slammed shut behind him. Fabian went next, followed by Gideon. Anton gestured to Taureau to go after the Prewett brothers, but Taureau grabbed him by the arm and shoved him up the stairs.

"Really now," huffed Anton.

Taureau followed him in once he'd disappeared, leaving Lily standing with James outside the house.

"You've been quiet," she said.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to seeing a dead body," he murmured.

She took his hand in hers and stood so close his chin brushed her cheek. "That's a good thing. I feel sorry for people who are used to it."

"Like all them," James said, nodding towards the house.

"Yeah."

"I don't want to have to bury any more bodies. I've had enough of it. And the worst part is, I know Acustus won't even be close to the last one."

Lily nodded. "I get the feeling there will be plenty more bodies to come."

James looked at her and squeezed her hand. "But not ours."

"No, not ours."

He was next in the house, after that. He turned back to her just as he stepped in, offered her that smile that meant everything, before the door slammed shut after him.

Finally, she climbed the two stairs, and opened the door. Inside was a hallway. She could see it now. It was dark, and empty. She got the feeling someone was watching her. She turned around, gazed out past the metal fence behind, at the seemingly empty plains that she knew was really swarming with those mindless, hungry creatures.

She stepped into the hallway. The door slammed shut behind her, and suddenly everything was dark.

Then came the sounds. She opened her eyes.

London.

Buildings were on fire. Windows were smashed. People were running on the street, terror etched onto their dirt-smeared faces.

It was Charing Cross Road, but not as Lily knew it. The Leaky Cauldron was rubble in front of her, exposing Diagon Alley to the world. Death Eaters marched out in the open, their masks looking more leering than ever.

The world had changed, and it was all her fault.

She started running. Down the street, down another street, passing familiar faces she couldn't quite place, or hadn't the time to speak to. She had to check, had to make sure they were safe. She rounded a corner and saw them.

Alice and Frank, lying still on the ground, their arms stretched towards each other in death. Petunia's body lying in an unnatural position not far away. Her eyes were vacant, unseeing, yet they still seemed to glare up at Lily accusingly. Marlene and Sirius had died with their arms around one another. That was some consolation at least, Lily thought to herself numbly. Tears were streaking down her face, but she barely registered them. Her hands were shaking, her heart beating so incredibly quickly. She knew who came next before she even looked.

There he was. Black, messy hair soaked in blood. Glasses askew, cracked. There was usually a smile on his face. A cheeky grin at least. In death though, terror and pain were all she saw on the face of James Potter.

She couldn't look anymore. She was still alive. Someone had to help. She could think about death later. Right now, all these terrified Muggles needed her.

Lily pulled her wand out, glancing around at the fleeing, frightened Muggles. If she couldn't save her friends, she would sure as hell save these-

Hmm. So grief will not do the trick, eh?

The voice was raspy. Old. Something that should have passed on a long time ago.

How about… FEAR?

The world shifted around her.

"Do you reckon anyone's home?"

"Doubt it. No one's lived here for years."

Lily was ten. It was the summer before she got her Hogwarts letter. At the time, she'd found the events of that day bizarre. Looking back, she realized how close she'd come to a horrible death.

"Go knock," said Anna, giggling.

"I'm not going to knock," said Maddy, head shaking quickly. "My older brother says this house is haunted.

Lily scoffed. "Haunted? There's no such thing as ghosts, Maddy. Everyone knows that."

The three girls huddled by a gate, staring at a tall black house. Number Fifty-two stood at the top of Hader's Hill, not far from Cokeworth. For generations, the town's teenagers had been coming here, perhaps to impress their friends, or perhaps just for a rush of adrenaline. It was like a rite of passage. They would run up the dirty pathway, pound loudly on the front door, then run away with their friends, giggling and squealing with glee. None waited to see if the door would open. Though it was common knowledge in the town that nobody had lived here for many years, there wasn't a single soul willing to test that theory.

"Go on, Lily," said Anna. "If you're so sure ghosts don't exist, why don't you knock on the door and see who's there?"

Lily shook her head. "It's late. We should go home."

"I think you're scared," said Maddy. "You do believe in ghosts, you just don't want to admit it."

"I'm not scared!"

"You sound scared."

Lily glared. "I'm braver than you both put together. Watch this!"

She undid the latch of the metal gate, and it swung slowly inward with a loud groan. Then she started walking up the path. The house loomed above her. The hedges on either side trapped her in. She looked back at Anna and Maddy, on the other side of the gate. Safe. Suddenly this didn't feel like such a good idea.

There was something watching her. She didn't know how she knew. Maybe by a prickling on her neck, or the tiny hairs on her arm sticking out, but her body and mind both screamed at her to turn around, take her friends, and get as far away from here as possible.

But Lily Evans wasn't a runner.

She moved quickly up the pathway until she was at the door. There was a smell in the air. Stale, and old. She summoned all her courage before rapping her knuckles against the door three times, sharp. Then she turned, saw her friends' impressed and disbelieving faces. Lily grinned and started to run back, not looking at the door.

She got half a step before she tripped and fell flat on her face. Her hands managed to break most of the fall, but her nose hit the ground, making her eyes stream. She yelped and slowly sat up, wiping her face with her sleeves. When she could see clearly again, she got a wobbly foot under her and pushed herself up to her feet.

A creaking sound.

She turned around slowly. The door had opened. Lily's heart froze. She was unable to take a breath. She saw a dark hallway, with cobwebs on the walls and stains on the carpet. But no one was there. No one had opened the door.

Lily turned and sprinted back down the path, trying desperately to suck air into her lungs. She didn't check to see if anything was following her. All she needed to do was get past the gate.

But the path was suddenly so long. It seemed to stretch on forever, her friends merely specs in the distance. She heard something right by her ear. A rasping breath.

Then everything spun, and Lily felt like she was being stretched and squeezed all at once. The gate was suddenly right in front of her. But… it had been so far before! How could she have crossed all that distance? Her ears had popped, and she was queasy. But she was at the gate, and that's all she needed.

Lily jumped over the fence, not wasting a moment more, and looked at her friends to tell them to hurry up-

Anna was on the ground. Her head, torn from her body, was a few feet away. Her lifeless eyes rolled in their sockets.

"No," whispered Lily. "This isn't what happened."

What was left of Maddy's carcass lay beside Anna. Lily could only recognize the body from the clothes, bloodied as they were. It looked like the girl had burst from the inside out.

"This didn't happen," said Lily, putting her hands to her temples. "We ran away. We went home safe!"

It happened.

That voice again.

"No, it did not!" Lily whirled around, wand suddenly in her hand, searching for a target. "You can't trick me. Half of this memory is fake! Show yourself!"

Hmm. It sounded fascinated. Fear will not work on you either, it seems. You are resilient.

"Show yourself," she repeated, louder and steadier this time.

Let me see… How about the most powerful motivator of all… love?"

The world spun again.

"-can authorize a portkey for us to get out of here," Caradoc Dearborn was saying as he walked away. "You two stay right there, I won't be long."

It was Portugal, a mere eight months ago. New Year's Eve.

Their table was outside a bar packed full of merry drinkers. It was a big night. All the writing, in any direction Lily looked, was in Portuguese. And if she remembered correctly, the countdown to the new year was only moments away.

James' hand found her chin, turning her gaze upon him. "You're so beautiful."

"James," she breathed, "something's wrong. I- I don't know what it is, but…" What was wrong? She couldn't remember. She had something urgent to do, but she suddenly didn't care. Not when, after all this time, his face was so close. His nose brushed hers. His lips were so near they shared breaths.

"Forget everything else," he murmured. "Everything but us, in this moment. Right now."

"James…"

"Let's stay here."

"What?"

"Let's stay here, Evans." He pulled back a little and looked at her, completely serious. It was almost bizarre to see such an expression on his face. "We can forget everything here. The war. Your parents-"

"But they weren't dead at this point," she started, clarity almost reaching her.

"Evans," he said urgently, "this might be our only chance to get away from it all. Stay here with me."

"James, what you're asking is-"

"Dez," cried what seemed like everyone in the city. The countdown had begun. "Nove!"

"Stay with me, Evans."

"But-"

"Oito!"

"Evans, I love you." He leaned closer, so close she could count his eyelashes. "I love you, and I want to make a life with you here."

"Sete!"

"Stay with me. Please."

"Seis!"

This was it. Her chance at a happy life. Possibly her only chance. How could she not seize it?

"Cinco!"

She nodded slowly. "Okay."

"Três!"

"Okay?" he repeated, his face lighting up.

"Okay," she said louder, laughing now. She was going to do it. She was really going to do it.

"Dois!"

"I'll stay with you, Potter. Because I love you too."

An indescribable vision of joy filled James' face, and he reached out to her just as she reached to him.

"Um!"

She couldn't fight off the smile as their faces quickly drew within a hair's breadth. "Let's make a life together, Potter."

"Feliz Ano Novo!"

Their lips crashed together, and it was like a man had been pushing the plates of the Earth's crust apart all this time before finally giving into the pressure, letting nature take its course, for it felt violent, seismic, and inevitable.

"Let's get away from here," he breathed against her lips.

She nodded.

They ran. Holding hands and giggling like children, James and Lily ran through the streets of Portugal, sidestepping passersby and barely missing street signs.

They found a beach, ran along the sand, stood on the edge of the tide and watched the ocean's reflection of the night sky. Boats honked, fireworks lit up the sky, and Lily's heart was so incredibly full. James didn't let go of her hand once.

They found a place to stay the night. And, that night, they made love for the first time. And the second, and the third. They bought a house the next day, got jobs as Muggles.

Before long, they were married. A quiet ceremony, just the two of them and an officiator. Lily had teared up during the ceremony, for which James made endless fun of her.

Five years later they had two kids, Petunia and James Jr, the latter idea coming from the insistence of Lily's rather self-indulgent husband. The kids went to Muggle schools, which took a while for James to wrap his head around. Jr got up to all sorts of mischief at the behest of his father, causing Lily many, many headaches. Petunia was the spitting image of Lily herself, making the strain of motherhood at least somewhat easier.

Eventually, however, the kids grew up. They finished their education, they moved out, found partners, and had kids of their own. Before Lily knew it, she was a grandmother. James and Lily didn't need to work anymore. They had worked hard all these years, had a nice house by the beach, and spent their evenings on the deck, relaxing in their chairs and looking out at the water. Side by side, always.

On one such evening, Lily finished her wine glass and turned to James, who was reading a Muggle gossip magazine with fascination. "I'm off to bed, love. I think I'll get an early night's sleep."

He looked up at her and gave her his adoring smile. "Alright. Goodnight, Potter."

"Night, Potter. Love you."

They kissed. She lingered on his lips, savoring the taste. All these years and she still wasn't over the way he made her feel.

She walked back into the house, smiling at the picture frames lining the walls of the kids when they were infants. Petunia practicing the violin, looking at the instrument with loathing. Jr on the day he was signed to play professional football, beaming his father's crooked grin at the camera.

Lily walked on, soaking in the life she'd made with James. She got into bed, blissful. She'd lived a perfect life.

That was when she was shaken awake.

Lily was suddenly aware that she was lying on an extremely uncomfortable mattress. The material was torn, the surface lumpy. She squinted, took in the fact that she was in a dark, musty room.

The house with the green light!

Lily opened her eyes wide, looked up, and screamed.

Acustus stood over her, a hand on her shoulder. His throat was still ripped out. His face was as white as a sheet. His eyes were unfocused, sightless.

Lily scrambled away from him, falling off the other end of the bed in her rush. She leaped back up, then frowned. Acustus was gone.

She took a better look around the room. It was barren apart from the bed, if it could even be called that. The light came from a window overlooking the plains. Lily peered through the window, towards the gate and the cobblestone path.

She searched with her eyes for the headstone marking the spot Acustus had been buried. She quickly found the spot it should have been, but instead saw only a normal patch of dirt. Not a trace of the burial they had given the man.

Had she just seen his ghost? No, he had physically touched her. Had Acustus really just woken her up? It seemed so.

Lily was thoroughly creeped out. What frightened her most however was the knowledge that if she hadn't been shaken awake, she would have likely spent the rest of her life on that bed, in that dream. Her paradise.

There was a door at the end of the room. Lily tried it, and thankfully it was unlocked. Beyond was a dark corridor. She lit up her wand and started walking.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Edgar leaned against a wall. Sweat beaded his forehead. His eyes were wide and manic.

He had broken free of the dream. Somehow, he had mustered the determination to break free. He took a few steps, staggered, leaned against the wall again.

He wanted to go back. Back into the dream. He didn't know why, could now barely even remember the dream, but he knew it was better than this. Better than this sudden broken feeling filling his mind. He couldn't shake it. He wanted to escape.

He reached beneath his shirt, pulled out the gold chain around his neck, grasped it in both hands and screwed his eyes shut tight.

No. No, he didn't need to do that.

He slipped the chain back under his shirt and took a breath.

His mind started to clear on its own. The dream had been horrific and gruesome, but somehow his brain had been tricked into comfort within the dream, relishing the escape. Whatever had been done to his head upon entering this house, it was powerful. He could only imagine the effect it was having on the others.

Edgar shook his head, clearing the last of the cobwebs inside.

He saw movement. Down the end of the corridor was a figure, moving slowly towards him.

Edgar frowned and tilted his head. "Acustus?"

oOoOoOoOoOoOoO

A vibrant darkness, radiating from the crevices between ideas and thoughts. It was brain matter manifested into experience, feeling.

Taureau Barkley, came an old, raspy voice. Why can I not see into your mind?

Taureau felt amused, and the darkness flashed bright before returning to form. "My mind has been trained to be impenetrable," he thought, the words echoing off the surface of the darkness. "Many more valiant attempts than this have been made to penetrate my thoughts, ghost."

Pride, eh? Oh, I can use that…

Taureau felt an attempt being made to access his memories. He could have shut it down by instinct alone, but he relented. To conquer this ghost, he would have to find it first. So he stayed idle as he felt his mind being probed, his oldest thoughts and memories being sifted through.

Taureau Barkley was a patient man. This ghost would soon find that it was his most deadly quality.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoO

"Some people spend their whole lives looking for it," said Taureau's father. He was always exhausted when he came home from work, though Taureau didn't know why yet. The boy was thirteen years old, couldn't yet comprehend the drain of adult life, the stress of an underpaying and taxing job, the pressure to provide for a motherless child and wishing so desperately this child will grow up to be better than his father.

"Looking for what?" asked Taureau. He sat opposite his father at the dinner table. It was just past five in the evening, and his father sipped tea slowly, gazing out the window with eyes that seemed far away. His father wore an exquisite suit - he always did. It was bright blue, with gleaming black boots. Taureau understood that his father's job was demeaning and crude, yet he always presented himself with the utmost dignity. Class. It was a long time before Taureau learned to see the value in this.

"Looking for their purpose," answered his father. "The reason they were put on this earth, the reason they get out of bed in the morning."

A day of work generally seemed to make Taureau's father contemplative and introspective, an attitude Taureau later came to attribute to those who were dissatisfied with their lives and being compelled to ask why. Taureau tilted his head at his father. "How do those people get out of bed in the morning if they're still yet to find a reason to get out of bed?"

His father's smile looked pained. "With great difficulty."

Taureau thought he was starting to get it. "Do you find it difficult, Dad?"

"I used to. Until one day, thirteen years ago." His father turned from the window to smile at him, filling Taureau with warmth. "Until you, Chester."

Chester.

Chester.

Chester.

"But if you look for that reason, if you're only rolling out of bed in the hopes that it will reveal itself to you one of these days, you may find it all the more elusive. Your reason will find you. Happiness will find you, always. You must simply have the strength to keep rolling out of bed until it does."

The words meant nothing to Taureau at the time. It seemed more like his father was only reminding himself of these things.

Yet his father's musings would often spring back to Taureau over the years. They weren't his motivation as much as they became his modus operandi. One day, his reason to be would come to him. It had to.

"For the next five years," said the man with thick brows and cold eyes, pacing in front of the recruits, "you are no one. Nobody at all. Forget your names, forget your identities. You won't need them in this line of work. If you survive your training, you will emerge from those grand doors as a new person. You will choose a new identity, and it will mean nothing to you. Because you are nothing. Understood?"

Taureau stood in a long row of expressionless teenagers. They all nodded mutely.

"Good. Let us begin."

To say Taureau's time in the academy was grueling would be a gross, preposterous understatement. Who he was as a person was chipped away, ground to dust, rebuilt into a mould that would drive most people clinically insane. He watched many of his peers get carried away screaming when they couldn't stand the pressure, the strain. Taureau never saw them again. Nor did he ever care. Chester died before his fourteenth birthday, strapped to a chair with a wand against his temple, his mind being blended and reconstructed to the whim of his teachers. The person that stood up from the chair, limbs shaking, vision blurry, could barely be called a person at all.

He was made immune to what seemed like every poison known to man. This was done the hard way, of course - he was exposed to the poisons, drenched in them, then healed only enough to keep him alive before starting from the beginning.

"Number nineteen," said Miss Lamenta, "come in."

He closed the door behind him and looked around the room. It was small, mostly empty. Miss Lamenta stood before him, wearing all black, the same as everyone else. There was also someone kneeling on the ground with a brown bag over their head.

"I wish to see how much progress you've made," said Miss Lamenta. She pointed at the kneeling person. "Kill them."

He stared. He had known this day would come. This test. He spoke no words, made no movement. He only looked at the kneeling figure, finding that even after all the mental reconstruction and conditioning, he still wasn't ready.

After three minutes, Miss Lamenta nodded. "Okay. What if I inform you that the person before you is a sexual predator? He preys upon Muggles, enjoys his power over them. He works in the Ministry, and no one will stop him. Many of his colleagues are fully aware of the things he does. The request to take his life was sent to us this morning, and here he is. Will you kill him now?"

Taureau glanced at Miss Lamenta. "Is any of that true?"

"It is not your job to separate truth from fiction. It is your job to kill this man. I have already told you far more than any client would."

Taureau aimed his wand at the man. He summoned the intent, the desire to snuff out a life. He focussed on the story she had told him, and used it as fuel to get the words out. "Avada Kedavra."

The figure collapsed, hit the ground with a soft thud and didn't move again.

"Less than satisfactory," said Miss Lamenta. "We will try it again tomorrow. Dismissed."

Taureau let out a breath, eyes not moving from the body. He had done that. He had taken a life. Eventually, he nodded, and moved to the door. But he had to pause before he left. "Did… did that man really do all of those things?"

Miss Lamenta furrowed her thin eyebrows. "A word of advice, number nineteen. Do not ask me another question."

He nodded, and left.

The next day he returned, found Miss Lamenta standing right where he had left her. The condition of the captive had notably changed, however.

"Please help me!" Kneeling before Taureau was a lady, blotchy faced and sobbing. Her shoulders shook, her face desperate, miserable.

"There's no bag over her head," said Taureau.

"Indeed there is not," replied Miss Lamenta. She pointed a finger at the lady. "Kill her."

"Please," said the lady, trying to speak through gasping breaths and sobs that seemed to seize her whole body. "Please, I have children. Please! Pl- Pl..." She was struggling to get the words out, she was shaking so much. "Please," she wheezed one more time.

All night Taureau had meditated on how he had felt about taking his first life. How he would feel about taking more.

"Avada Kedavra."

The lady's body hit the floor. Taureau felt nothing.

"You have all passed," said the man with thick brows and cold eyes, pacing back and forth before a much shorter row of teenagers, now five years older. "Those who did not pass were weak. Not only weak, but arrogant. They required a reason to kill someone. Further justification than the simple fact that it was what they had been ordered to do. They thought themselves the definitive judge between right and wrong. I will kill a criminal, but not an innocent person. But I will not kill every criminal, only those who seriously offend. But what is a serious offence? Where shall I draw the line? The answer is not to draw the line at all - to accept that it is not your job to draw the line. You are the tools of those who do. You are not judge, jury, or even executioner, no. An execution implies guilt. You all will be killing indiscriminately. You are nothing."

It was the least gratifying or affirming speech there could have ever been.

The man went on to explain how they would each take on a new name once they rejoined the outside world. The name would feel natural to them, would accurately capture the new person they had become. An opportunity for rebirth.

Taureau Barkley quickly became infamous in the underground circles of those who dealt in the dark. His kill count was immeasurable, his reputation considerable, his name only ever whispered, even in the darkest reaches of Knockturn Alley, lest it conjure him in the flesh.

"I understand you are the best at what you do."

Taureau said nothing. He did not boast. His reputation meant nothing. He was nothing.

"I like the best. I require the best." Anton Windstrum leaned forward in his armchair, blond hair slicked back, eyes glinting with the aura of someone about to tell a joke. "I want to pay for your services, Mr Barkley. There is a man I would like you to kill..."

Taureau crept through the brightly lit corridors of the Vienna State Opera, keeping his footsteps silent even though any sound would have been masked by the orchestra and the applause for the performances inside. He poked his head around the corner of the corridor, watched his target walk from behind.

Emmett Fawley stopped walking suddenly, turned around and looked right at Taureau. "Another one of Blithe's assassins, I presume?"

Taureau didn't hesitate. Green light shot from his wand and Fawley avoided it by weaving to the side, pulling out his wand, and-

There, floating above them both.

"Found you," muttered Taureau.

The ghost was a pale blend of grey and silver. It had a beard and glasses, and wore a tattered nightgown. It gave Taureau a surprised look. He got the feeling the ghost had never been caught before.

It all flickered.

"You don't want to kill me," said Fawley.

Taureau was now pressing his wand to the man's chest. "Yes, I do."

"No. If you did then I would already be dead." His head tilted. "Why don't you want to kill me? If I may make a potentially ignorant assumption, you are the assassin I've been hearing so much about. I would hardly be your first murder, I think."

How can you see me? The ghost floated down to Taureau's eye level. How are you able to stray from the course of your memory?

"I told you," Taureau told the ghost, "I have been trained for this."

"-so I have to assume," continued Fawley, completely oblivious to the ghost and as though Taureau hadn't said a thing, "that something is different about me. What's so different about me, assassin?"

Taureau didn't have an answer to the question immediately. It was only much later that the answer had come to him. Emmett Fawley had found it. His reason for existing was to make the world a better place. He was sarcastic, yet kind. Sharp, yet naive. A sardonic humanitarian. Good-will was infectious, and for a time Taureau had his own reason to get out of bed in the morning.

"Anton Windstrum is Blithe," Fawley said, still shocked at the news as the two sat in his kitchen drinking coffee while the sun rose. Taureau had spent the night with him, providing him with fascinating pieces of information before the two moved on to a much more physical agenda. "My possession of this knowledge could be the greatest tactical advantage we have had since the conception of this war."

"But what am I to do now?" asked Taureau. "When he finds out I haven't killed you, he will assume you now know who he is."

There. The ghost again, hovering above their heads. Taureau leaped towards it. In the physical world a ghost could not be touched, but here? This was Taureau's mind. These were his memories. The ghost didn't stand a chance.

He got an arm around the ghost's neck, and it yelped as he tackled it from the air.

"Then tell him," saw Fawley, ignoring Taureau's departure from the course of the memory, "that you were defeated by me. We might kill two birds with one stone - hopefully he'll stop sending assassins after me!"

Taureau tightened his grip, and the ghost's face became even more pale.

It all flickered.

"He defeated you?" Anton repeated, eyebrows raised. "Merlin's beard, I didn't know Fawley had it in him!"

"What is your purpose?" Taureau growled to the ghost as he strangled it on Anton Windstrum's griffin hide rug. "Why are you haunting the exit to the Valley of the Dead? What do you intend to do to my companions?"

"Very well," said Anton, ignoring all the commotion. "Fawley may stay alive for now. I will be in further need of your assistance, Mr Barkley, so I am extending your contract in the hopes that you will not fail me again. You will continue to be paid handsomely, of course. Now, things are looking to become quite complex. Albus Dumbledore, the self-satisfied old fool that he is, has hired me to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts this coming year. I will be of great value to the Dark Lord, though it will be quite difficult for me to communicate with you while I am there. Here is how we will do it..."

It all flickered.

Taureau burst through the doors of the warehouse just as there was a flash of green light. He saw Emmett Fawley slump into a chair, dead. Anton Windstrum stood over the love of Taureau's life and had the audacity to frown at Taureau. "What are you doing here?"

Taureau lost his patience. "Who are you?" he roared to the ghost, throttling it. Its legs kicked helplessly as he held it in the air. "What do you want?"

Averill Pening. The dead man had no lungs, needed no air, yet still he gasped desperately. My house has stood on that land for centuries. I feed on the souls of trespassers, they give me the power to meddle with their very own minds. Eventually, they become part of the house.

Taureau snarled down at the ghost. "Let's go put a stop to that, shall we?"

A flicker, this time brought about by Taureau himself.

The seven of them gradually turned and stood before the house, illuminated by that eerie green light in the top floor window.

"It's going to be haunted, isn't it?" said James resignedly.

"At this point, I'd be almost disappointed if it weren't," said Fabian.

"Might I guess that the green light up there has something to do with your power?" Taureau asked the ghost.

Pening shook his head quickly. No.

"I think it does. Let's go take a look, shall we?"

Taureau dragged the ghost of Averill Pening up the cobblestone path, kicked the wooden door off its hinges, and barged inside.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Marlene, Sirius, and Peter lazed about in a meadow, gazing up at the sky. Johan and Helena were off watching the werewolves - they seemed to be the only ones who actually enjoyed the task.

The pack had spent the last few days making quick progress towards Germany, perhaps only another day or two away.

"Why do you think they're going to Germany?" asked Peter.

The group had raised this question many times amongst themselves. The answer was more or less the same each time. "Honestly?" said Sirius. "Probably to join the Death Eaters."

"Maybe not," said Marlene. "Maybe Remus has convinced them to join us."

"Yeah," said Sirius. "Maybe."

They were quiet for a few more minutes. Eventually Peter sighed and got to his feet. "I'll check on Johan and Helena, see if either of them want a break."

Sirius snorted. "Not likely."

Marlene closed her eyes as the sounds of Peter's footsteps on the dry grass faded away. Her thoughts, normally careening from temple to temple, were currently a loose jumble drifting around her head. Maybe it was the hot weather, or maybe it was the monotony of the last few weeks lulling her into lanquidity, but right now she felt a sense of relative peace. "It's not a bad job we've got here," she said, eyes still closed.

"I don't think so," Sirius replied. "I'd much rather be on the frontlines with the others. I hate being able to do nothing while they get to have all the fun."

"I suppose."

After a moment, he continued. "I can see why you prefer this, though."

"Why's that?" she asked, prepared for an insult.

"You don't like violence. Never have. In Diagon Alley last year, your way of helping out was to heal my wounds rather than get straight to fighting. When fighting is required you more than hold your weight, but you've never enjoyed it. That's why you're going to be a Healer after school, is it not?"

She bit her lip, fighting off a smile. No one knew her like this boy. "That is correct."

"Well, there you go. Have you heard back from the academy yet, by the way?"

Dieudonnée's Academy was a Healing school in France, extremely acclaimed and just as exclusive. No one actually knew she'd applied to it yet. Not her parents, not Will Ärger. Just Sirius. "They're still reviewing my application. I'll only find out around Christmas."

"That's a long time to wait."

"Yeah."

"I'm sure you'll get in, though. And you'll love France." Marlene smiled appreciatively. "My first girlfriend was French, actually," he continued. "Ariana. The sweetest thing, and a friend of the family too, which makes the fact that she's a decent person even more impressive. I still write to her every now and then. When you get to France I can let her know, maybe she can show you around the city. "

Despite herself, Marlene felt an inexplicable dislike for this Ariana. She shouldn't have, but she couldn't help it. "I'd like that," she lied. "Thanks."

Sirius hummed in response. They were quiet for a while then, a comfortable and pleasant quiet consisting of a light breeze and birds chirping in the distance.

Then footsteps. Hurried, frantic, heavy. Marlene opened her eyes and sat up. She frowned when she saw Peter's red face filled with panic as he ran full pelt back towards them, huffing and gasping. When he reached them he paused for a few seconds to get air back into his lungs. "Shit," the boy wheezed. "Oh, shit."

"Pete," said Sirius, leaping to his feet and rushing to meet him. "What happened? What's wrong?"

Peter let out a shuddering breath. "Oh, shit," he said again.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoO

As Remus walked through the makeshift encampment the pack had made for the night, on a stretch of dirt, rocks, and grass that endeavored to sprout through the dry soil, he received nods and smiles from the werewolves that he passed. He didn't know all their names, and he was sure they didn't know his, but there was a kinsmanship attached to those nods and smiles, an understanding that he and they were one and the same. It added a certain bounce to his step, and Remus was sure it had been a long time since there had been discernible bounciness to any one of his steps.

He found where Eve had settled for the evening and dropped next to her. "I think I'm close," he told her.

She cracked an eye open. "Close to what?"

"A revelation. I was meditating with Koza this morning and I felt something. A- A calm storm within, you know?"

"No."

"I don't know." Remus threw his hands up. "It felt significant."

"Then I'm sure it was."

"Thank you."

They were quiet for a brief time. Then she broke the silence. "If you've come to me for sex, then I'm very sorry, but-"

"What?" Remus looked at her, appalled. "No! I just thought we could talk."

"Good. But don't go getting any ideas now."

"I won't!"

"I know how filthy your mind is."

"Me?"

"Incorrigible, you are."

Remus was speechless.

"I'm joking, by the way," she said after a few seconds.

"You…"

"Do you want to have sex?"

"I…"

"I'm being serious."

"Are you though?"

"Definitely. Last chance, sex or no?"

"I… if sex were a legitimate option that is on the table, and- and the table was a real table and not a trap table designed to make me look silly, then I suppose, I suppose I could be… potentially, I mean, if you want, but I-"

"Yes," she said, taking his hand and getting to her feet. "Yes is all that was required there, Remus."

"Right," he said, joining her in standing.

"You're funny," she told him.

"I'm really not," he said exasperatedly.

She started leading him off, away from the pack, when there was suddenly a commotion of shouting and cries. They turned, watched all the werewolves gathering in one spot. The two ran back, pushing their way through the crowd.

"Dead?" said one werewolf. "How can he be dead?"

"They snuck up on him, I think. Nasty humans."

"I knew they were no good."

Remus and Eve reached the front, and what they saw made them freeze on the spot, and Remus' heart plummeted.

Garzhand knelt on the ground, weeping, and Torza stood behind him, head bowed, both their faces a picture of grief.

Before them, Koza's body lay on the ground. The old man was unscathed, his wrinkled skin unharmed. But his eyes were open, unseeing, and his chest was still. Remus recognized the effects of the killing curse immediately. Koza had been murdered.

Not far from his body were two more corpses. There were claw marks in their faces, their torsos now ruins of blood and shredded meat, their mutilated faces twisted in terror and agony.

So extensive was the damage that it took Remus a good few seconds to realize he was looking at the remains of Johan and Helena.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoO

"How did this happen?" asked Sirius. "Did you see it?"

"No," said Peter frantically. "I got here and they were gone."

Blood was splattered over the stones and dirt where Johan and Helena were supposed to have been watching the werewolves from. Marlene found their omnioculars on the ground, the lenses smashed to pieces. "Reparo," she said, tapping her wand to them. The lenses repaired themselves and she held the omnioculars up to her eyes, scanning the expanse ahead of them to where the pack had set up their camp.

"I see them," she said. "They're… dead."

Sirius cursed. Peter breathed out heavily.

"The werewolves surround them. There's another body on the ground. It's the old guy that does their exercise sessions. The leader is crying over his body. Remus is there."

"Is he okay?"

"Yeah, he seems fine. Shocked."

"Yeah, I think we all are." He turned and cursed again.

Marlene lowered the omnioculars and watched as Sirius started to pace.

"Okay," he said. "Okay. We know they were killed here. Right here, which means it was almost definitely unprovoked. They must have been spotted."

"And the old dead guy?" asked Peter.

"They must have put up a fight."

"Those two didn't look like killers to me," said Marlene.

"Nor to me," said Sirius. "But I doubt the old guy dropped dead by himself."

"Hey," said Peter, looking down. He stooped, then came up with a wand in his hands. "Is this one of theirs?"

"Must be," said Marlene, frowning and taking it from him. "I can't say I committed the looks of their wands to memory though."

"As far as we've seen, these werewolves don't keep their wands on their person," Sirius said.

"So if it's one of their wands, where's the other one?" asked Peter, scanning the ground.

"Taken, maybe," said Sirius. "Or maybe they didn't even get the chance to pull it out of their pocket."

Peter swallowed. "What should we do? Should we rescue Remus and get out of here?"

Sirius looked back at Marlene. "Remus is fine? It doesn't look like they've managed to associate him with Johan and Helena?"

She shook her head. "Didn't look like it."

"Then there's nothing to rescue. His cover isn't blown. We need to give him a chance to do his job, otherwise we did all this for nothing."

"How much longer can we wait, though?" asked Marlene. "It's just you, me, and Pete out here now. Millicent fucked off back to England, and those two just got bloody butchered. Those werewolves don't seem to be our biggest fans. At what point do we write this all off as unsuccessful, grab Remus, and go home?"

"We have to trust that Remus will get this done," said Sirius firmly. "He just needs more time."

"How much more, though?"

When Sirius answered, he looked just as unsure as she felt. "As much as it takes."

Marlene nodded. They were just going to wing it. That's what he meant. She had her reservations about this plan, but Sirius knew Remus much better than she did. She had to trust them.

She lifted the omnioculars back to her eyes and watched.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoO

"How did this happen, Torza?" asked Garzhand quietly.

Remus and the rest of the werewolves watched in silence as the two cousins stood over Koza's body.

"They must have snuck up on him," replied Torza. "I found them by the lake, your father already dead. They attacked me, too, but I made quick work of them. Do you recognize them, Garzhand? They were with that witch, back at the Life Day celebrations. They were the ones trying to convince all the creatures to join their fight against Death Eaters. It didn't take long for them to reveal their true colors."

Garzhand said nothing. Remus frowned, knowing full well that Johan and Helena would never do such a thing.

"It's a sign, cousin," Torza continued. "Those on their side are no friends of ours. We must take up Rabastan Lestrange's offer and join the Death Eaters to keep the pack safe. Tonight is the full moon, and we can reach Berlin by dusk. If we do right by the Dark Lord, we will be ensuring a better future for our pack for generations. The time is now!"

Garzhand looked up at him, his expression unreadable, and still he said nothing.

Torza seemed to decide to push harder, revealing a wand from the loose rags he wore. "I took this wand from their person. Look at it, Garzhand - this is the wand they used to kill your father. Look at it! They are weak, and cowardly, and-"

"Let's see that," cut in Remus, extending a hand. He had no idea where his words came from, they simply sprang from his lips. Eve stared at him, the other werewolves looked surprised. Garzhand raised an eyebrow, and Torza frowned. Remus pulled his own wand from within his loose rags, hand still outstretched for the wand in Torza's grasp. "We can verify your claims quite easily."

"Who are you, boy, to verify anything I say?" Torza asked softly. "Who do you think you are? You have among us for scarcely two weeks, and yet you think-"

"He's a good kid," interjected someone in the crowd. Remus looked for the source quickly, and found a face he recognized from meditation sessions with Koza.

"He's smart," someone else said.

"He's one of us."

Remus' heart swelled, but he didn't allow himself to get distracted.

"Remus," said Garzhand, looking at him and speaking slowly, "what are you implying?"

"I don't believe Torza," Remus said, holding Garzhand's gaze. "These people have nothing to gain from attacking us, nor is it in character for them to do so. Torza's story is extremely convenient for him, as he has been trying to convince you to join You-Know-Who for weeks at the very least. I think he orchestrated this. I think these people were quite likely following us, and Torza found them and realized he can use them to further his goals. The only thing in his way was your father. And the only mistake he made in his execution is presenting us with one of their wands."

"Ridiculous," snorted Torza.

"Give him the wand, Torza," said Garzhand quietly.

Torza snapped his gaze to his cousin. He stared at him for a moment, then he nodded once, sharp, and handed the wand to Remus. "In a moment you will see that this child is delusional, cousin. I expect an apology."

Remus tapped the wand with his own. "Prior Incantanto."

Out of the wand, a wisp of smoke, within which a ghostly image materialized. It was a small flash of green light. Evidence of the killing curse.

Torza grinned. "See? They killed him. Feeling foolish now, boy? What about you, Garzhand?"

"It's still going," said Remus.

Next was a ghostly image of fire being applied to a pale vision of logs of wood, like a campsite - Incendio, the fire charm. That image vanished, replaced by what looked like a pair of omnioculars floating through the air - Accio, a summoning charm.

"All fairly innocent," said Remus. "You said they killed Koza, and then attacked you, Torza?" The next ghostly image to appear was a spoon floating around a bowl of porridge - a levitation spell, most likely. "There is no evidence of that here. No offensive magic besides one killing curse, right at the end, which could have been done by anyone. You said this wand was used to kill Koza before you even reached them, and they attacked you right after. Where's the evidence of that? There is one killing spell here, and that is all."

Torza wasn't looking at the ghostly images now. He was glaring at Remus, as though trying to murder him with his eyes.

"From what I see here, I think you found them, took them by surprise, and killed them with your bare hands. You then saw an opportunity to take your uncle out of the picture by using them as scapegoats. You used this wand to kill Koza, then you brought all three bodies back here."

Torza clenched his jaw. As far as Remus could tell, the man had two options. He could continue to lie against what could quickly become overwhelming evidence, or he could admit to what he had done before reiterating his plea for action to his cousin.

Torza turned to Garzhand and chose the latter. "Koza was misleading you, Garzhand," he said quickly. "We need to involve ourselves in this war before it is too late. If the Dark Lord wins and we didn't help him, what will become of us? I had to do what I did, but some good can still come from it! We must march upon Berlin-"

"You killed my father, Torza?" Garzhand asked quietly.

"Yes, I did. But you must understand-"

Garzhand grabbed him by the neck, pulled him down while wrapping a forearm around his throat. His other hand found Torza's jaw, and Torza's eyes widened as he realized what was happening.

Garzhand twisted sharply, and snapped his cousin's neck.

There was complete silence, broken only by Torza's body hitting the ground with a dull thump. "He was right," said Garzhand, his voice dangerously quiet as he stood above the four dead bodies. "We cannot remain idle. The pack must join the war." He turned to face the gathered pack with a smile that failed to reach his eyes. "But we will not join the Death Eaters. Torza will not get what he wanted. Their side is cowardly, and I will not allow them to win." He breathed in deeply, closing his eyes. Upon breathing out, he opened them again. There was a glint in them that Remus had come to associate with impending violence. "The full moon is tonight. We will march upon Berlin before nightfall, and turn the Death Eater army into a sea of corpses. They will get what they asked for."

There were murmurs of assent from the other werewolves.

"For Koza," Garzhand yelled.

There were cheers now, and cries of approval. "For Koza!"

Remus looked at Eve. She was grinning at him, her eyes shining with what seemed almost like admiration. His little display had clearly impressed her. Hell, it had impressed himself.

The pack gathered their things, and started moving again. The pace was fast now, filled with purpose.

Remus couldn't wipe the grin off his face. His mission was a success.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoO

"They're moving now," said Marlene. "They're packing up and leaving."

"Where to?" asked Peter.

"Oh, I'll just wait for one of them to hold up a sign for me to read, shall I? I don't know, Pete. But they're going somewhere."

"You said Remus did a lot of talking before they started moving?" Sirius asked, and she nodded. "Then he might have succeeded. He might have somehow turned this awful situation into an opportunity to convince them to join us."

"That's a big might," Marlene said, frowning as she watched the encampment. "Although I have to say, a lot of the werewolves are patting him on the back. It seems whatever they're doing now, it had something to do with what Remus was saying."

"We have to assume, then, that he managed to do his job," said Sirius, grinning now.

Peter pumped a fist. "Yes!" Then he frowned. "So what now?"

"Now," said Sirius, "we follow. We follow, we wait, and we watch."

oOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Averill Pening roared in pain, but Taureau didn't let up, continued to blast him with a stream of ethereal, silver light. "Destroy it," Taureau yelled to the others.

"Little busy over here," Anton yelled back from across the room. The body of Acustus Proudfoot had changed significantly. His teeth were now sharp, his eyes yellow, nails long and throat scabbed over. He snapped his jaws at Anton and Anton kicked him back. "Wand," yelled Anton. James threw his wand to the man, and Anton summoned a burst of flame that struck Acustus in the chest, hurling what was left of the dead man into the wall.

"Wand," yelled James. Anton threw it back and James caught it just in time to stop a collapsing bookcase from falling on him.

The room, the whole house, was coming apart.

James, Lily, and Anton were on the far side of the room, battling Acustus, who had quickly turned hostile, while preventing anything from interrupting Taureau's work.

Taureau, for his part, held Pening in place while they attempted to exorcise him. He was a powerful spirit, and the house seemed to obey his every command.

"Destroy it," Taureau yelled again.

"On it," said Edgar, bursting into the room with the Prewett brothers right behind him. The three of them aimed their wands at the source of all this trouble.

In the middle of the room, a green orb floated in the air. It was the ominous light they had all seen from outside the house, illuminating the plains through the window, glowing with almost blinding brilliance. It was a murky green, but somehow electric. It made the hairs on Taureau's arm stand up just by being near it. The Eye of Zharic Háog.

Edgar, Gideon, and Fabian pointed their wands at The Eye simultaneously, aiming red beams of light into the orb.

NO, screamed Pening. STOP, YOU'LL KILL ME. YOU'LL DESTROY MY HOUSE!

"You're already dead," said Taureau through gritted teeth. "And this house is old, tacky, and horribly furnished."

I HATE YOU.

"Terribly sorry."

The orb burst, the room filled with green light.

The light faded.

No, it didn't fade. It was everywhere. Pink, golden, blue rivers of light flowed up, around them in impossible patterns and motions. Averill Pening disappeared. Everything else but the seven of them disappeared, and all they could do was stare in wonder at the swirling waves of light all around.

The light started to dim. The colors began to blend. Taureau blinked, and suddenly they were on a road.

It was evening. The sun was fading, a chill wind settling in. On one side of the road was a field, a line of trees in the distance. On the other, a gas station. There was a sign by the road, and Fabian kicked Anton. "What does that say?"

"You could just ask nicely."

Fabian lifted his wand.

"Okay, okay! It says Berlin, three kilometers. But I feel like you could have figured that out yourself."

Edgar started walking to the gas station, and the rest of them followed.

"What's your plan?" asked Taureau.

"We'll have to make it through a checkpoint to get into the city, I imagine," Edgar said. "We'll act like Muggles and drive right through it."

Gideon gasped excitedly. "Edgar, are we about to steal a car?"

They came to a battered, green Volkswagen parked outside the station. Edgar tapped his wand to it, and there was a click as the doors unlocked. "Yes. Yes we are. Get in."

"Erm," said Lily, "Muggle cars seat five people, Edgar. There are seven of us."

"We can't alter it magically, it'll give away the fact that we're wizards," Edgar replied. "Someone's going to have to sit on a lap."

They all looked at Lily, who glared. "What, because I'm the girl? Gideon, you can't sit on Fabian's lap?"

Gideon shook his head sadly. "I'd crush him. Too much muscle."

"You would not crush me," Fabian snapped.

"I'd break you like a twig. Mum would kill me."

"Shut up."

Lily sighed. "This is bullshit. That's all I'll say about that." She looked at James. "Reckon you can take my weight, Potter?"

He looked like he was trying very hard not to say something inappropriate. "I reckon so."

"Splendid," said Edgar. "We'll have to cast a disillusionment charm on you, Lily-"

"No need," said James. He dug into his pocket and brought out a brown, silvery cloak that shimmered in the light, almost like a liquid. "I have an Invisibility Cloak."

Taureau had never seen anything like it. It was the most exquisite of its kind he had ever laid eyes upon.

"Brilliant," said Edgar. "Mr Barkley and I in the front, James, Lily, and the Prewetts in the back. That takes care of everything."

"Not yet," said Anton. "Where shall I sit? Not on anyone's lap, I'll tell you that much."

"I already have a place in mind for you, Windstrum." Edgar tapped his wand again, and the boot of the car sprang open. "In you get."

"You must be joking."

"I rarely joke."

"Have I not proven myself to you all?" Anton demanded.

"No," they chorused.

The car set off shortly after, the seven of them cramped, exhausted, having taken beatings both mentally and physically, but at long last they were on their way.

"Berlin," murmured Edgar, piling on the speed, "here we come."

The engine purred almost in response.

"This is utter bullshit," called Anton from the boot.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

A/N: I am alive! This chapter was supposed to consist of Parts Four, Five, and Six, but as I wrote this last scene this morning it occurred to me that I could (and perhaps should) fully just upload the chapter as it is, especially seeing as it's been five months since the last chapter. So that's what I did! A couple days ago marked two years since I first began this story, and we've come a long, long way. In the last five or so chapters I've covered events I've been itching to cover since the story's conception, but it turns out that my favorite scenes to write were the ones that I had no clue I would ever end up writing - magic pirates, haunted houses, hordes of zombies, and more especially crazy things to come with the next chapter. I really hope you guys are enjoying this little arc, as I'm having immense fun writing it. Next chapter will be the last of what I am dubbing the Germany Infiltration Arc, after which we will return to normal chapters back at Hogwarts. If you like any of this, it's only possible due to the absolutely flattering reviews you guys give me - I feel like I'm able to dig out my best, most creative and fun writing only because of how ridiculously happy all your reviews make me, so thank you! As for next chapter, I honestly have no clue how long it will take me. A few hours ago, my plan was for it to be much shorter than these last two, but it will now consist of Parts Six, Seven, and Eight, with a fairly sizable amount of story for me to cover. I'm on a real writing buzz right now (as you may be able to tell from this completely unnecessary author's note) so I'll see how much of it I can crack out while the gears are still turning in my head. I'm going to estimate about a month, maybe. Until then, I love you all, and thanks so much for all your support!