Calla's arm burned where she had drawn into it. She kept retracing the lines, because if she didn't, the pain got worse and worse and she was consumed by her fear. The second Voldemort came into her sight, her scar would blaze so badly she could hardly concentrate, unless she scratched into her arm, trying to hold onto herself - to her spirit and to her soul.

She found herself curled up on the stones, trying to regulate her breathing. It came cold and struck her sharply in the ribs. Nightmares ran back through her mind, deep red eyes and still white faces and green light. Everywhere she looked, her memories appeared from the grey shadows. They were always there. He was always there, even when he wasn't. He was in her head and she couldn't get him out. Every thought went back to him and sent a shiver down her spine. Because every thought she had could soon be his if only he found it.

He had found a memory of Harry that she had been trying to hide, of Dumbledore telling them he thought there was some connection between the two of them, that that was why Harry could speak parseltongue. And anything Voldemort knew about Harry was dangerous to Harry so she had tried to keep it hidden but she had failed.

She had failed. She pulled her knees up to her chest and her face contorted into a sob, though there were no tears left. She felt there was hardly anything in her. She laced her fingers together and held the two marks on her arms against one another. Relief flooded through her. Pain burst in her scar like fireworks but then subsided and her mind cleared.

"It's alright," she whispered to herself, voice shaking. Her nails dug into her palm desperately. She needed something to hold on to. "It's alright."

Her scar prickled and something pushed at the edge of her mind. It immediately set her nerves on edge; was it Voldemort? She didn't hear footsteps, and it didn't quite feel like him. Shuddering, Calla closed her eyes. She saw red burning across great oak doors, saw a chandelier shattered on a marble floor. Spells flashed across the darkness behind her eyes, illuminating it, finally.

She saw, for one moment, bright and wide brown eyes, crinkled at the edges, and then they disappeared.

The back of her neck prickled. The black and white marbled floor was familiar… She had seen it before, and not only here.

She was in another part of the manor, she realised with a jolt. Hardly daring to think about it, Calla guided her consciousness away from the centre of the great room, towards the sounds of whispered voices. Her wand, she thought, she could find her wand.

She dipped through a door and along a narrow hallway to a dusty, dark room. Cobwebs hung from the corners and the single window pane clouded by dust. There was a small, rickety wooden table in the corner, upon which there were two long, narrow black boxes. She reached out a hand to the mist at the edge of the table. Her wand. Her scar itched and she burned for it. Her wand.

She was snapped out of the vision by the ceiling shaking above her. Dust fell down onto the stones and she turned away sharply as it fell onto her glasses. She took them off and rubbed at them with the corner of her sleeve. They glinted and she frowned. A queasy feeling in her stomach, Calla turned her head towards the ceiling and saw a tiny crack where light split the old stones. Then, it lit up red.

She grabbed the robe she was been using as a blanket and put it on, stumbling to her feet. Her head spun for a moment and her visions darkened. Her ears rang, but she dug her nails into her arm and squeezed her eyes shut until it subsided. Breath came short to her, but she could hear and think clearly.

People were shouting. There was spellfire, like strobe lighting through the crack in the ceiling.

She was below the fight. Below, perhaps, that great marbled room.

Her heart soared for the first time in weeks at the thought of freedom. Someone had come for her, finally - but she couldn't be hasty. There was no way for her to be certain of what was going on, only wishful thinking.

Calla pressed the marks on her arms against one another, took in a breath, and tried to ignore the pain in her scar as strength flooded the rest of her body. Magic swam grey around the edges of her skin, and her hair fluttered in the sudden breeze. She knew the power wouldn't last, knew that she would feel awful later, but she had to take a chance. She needed something to save her. To keep her feeling alive.

Someone yelled above them, her name and Sirius' echoed in the wind.

She bent down, and leapt upwards to hit her elbow off the space next to the crack in the ceiling. Pain clanged through her, but pain was nothing to her now. She bent down again, catching her breath, and kept her eyes fixated on the cell door. Someone had to come for her, surely. She had to believe.

Light beamed down behind the cellar door. Calla cowered into the corner as the footsteps echoed, and she held her arms out in front of her. Terror rushed through her at the thought of her hopes being dashed, that perhaps it was still the Death Eaters after all, always them, perhaps they had come to kill her or worse. She was sure, in the paranoid and darkest whispers of her mind, that her brother had been taken and was going to be killed. His pale face flashed before her eyes; she had seen it so many times and it still split her heart in two.

Harry, dead. Green eyes, faded, pale face, cold, lying among the foliage. Dead. Dead. Her fault, she couldn't save him, she could never save him-

She clenched her fists and leaned into the corner, heart thumping. "Please," she whispered, hardly daring to breathe or to close her eyes. "Please, please, please."

The door slammed open. She met her godfather's eyes. He said, "Run."

Calla lunged forward and almost collapsed. Her legs were shaking and weak. The cell wouldn't let her go. The magic in the stones grabbed a hold of her, dragging her down. Her knees grazed the floor, which cut through the already worn material of her trousers. Red bled through and she stared up at Remus. He was a blur, and split in two. She clasped her hands together. "Please, please, please."

He took a hold of her and lifted her up off the ground. "I've got you," he said. She could spy Moody's roving blue eyes in the dark tunnel. "You're going to be safe now, Calla, we just need to go. Run."

She stumbled up the stairs, falling and bashing her knees on the stones. Pain clattered through her and she tried to muffle her yelling, sighing her sharp fingernails into her skin, trying to focus on that, something she could control.

Her head rang with the sounds of fighting. "Sirius," she choked out. "Sirius, they were torturing him, I had to - I had to help him - he was screaming."

"Sh," Remus said, "it's alright."

"No! No, no you don't understand-"

"Quiet," Moody snapped at her, and she jumped at the tone of his voice. Her scar burned and she drew her cloak tighter around herself for warmth. "We're expecting an ambush."

She daren't speak after that. With Remus supporting her, they crept up the staircase. As they came towards the light, she saw red glinting off of dark masks. Calla bit back a scream, clinging to the shadows. Then Remus and Moody both lunged forward and as one shouted, "Stupefy!"

Blue light soared towards them, streaking past the blinding red, and Calla ducked just out of the way. The two Death Eaters were thrown on their backs and she was being dragged up the stairs, along a corridor that was familiar but still shaky in her vision. Through the doors she could see more of the Order, wands out, fighting.

"Come on," Remus said, pulling her along. "I have to get you out."

"Sirius-"

"Hestia's getting Sirius, he'll be alright."

"He - I don't know where he is!"

"We do," Remus assured her as they rushed down the corridor. "Come on, Calla." He thrust something into her hand, a smooth wand. "Silver lime," Remus said quickly. It felt wrong in her hand. It wasn't hers. "Bond well with Seers."

"What about my wand?" Her voice came out breathlessly, panicked. She needed her wand, the special wand, the wand that gave her power.

"We don't know where it is," Remus told her.

"You need to arm yourself, girl," Moody said.

"They took it from me! But it- it's somewhere, it has to be, I know it is!" She slowed up for a moment, but Remus urged her on. Another dark shape of a Death Eater appeared before them and Moody hit him with a dark curse that sent the Death Eater, screaming, flying against the wall. "I saw it," Calla panted as they kept running. She could hardly breathe. "In a vision." The marks on her arm burned and her chest heaved. Further, she told herself, just stretch a little further.

Her legs felt like they were on fire as she raced down the hall, Remus and Moody struggling to keep her upright between them both.

Darkness leapt at her, gnarling and snarling shadows, and Moody grabbed a hold of her, shoving her back against the wall.

"Get out the way!" he barked. "That's a dark spell, that is!"

"Alastor," Remus said, as Calla panted. The back of her head hurt. "We have to go."

"My wand…"

"It's gotta be somewhere," Moody confirmed. "Remus, keep an eye out. Dumbledore says she needs it if we can get it."

"We have to go," Remus snapped, "a wand can be replaced. Calla can't."

"No," Moody muttered, "no, Dumbledore doesn't think so. He says she needs it."

"I don't really care what Dumbledore-"

"Lupin," Moody barked. "On your left."

Calla and Remus twisted at the same time to see a dark shadow of a figure coming down the hallway towards them. Immediately, Remus leapt in front of her to send a stunning spell roaring down the corridor, followed by, "Incarcerous," which saw the Death Eater bound on the floor.

The shadows stirred and whispered and Calla's scar burned.

"I can't breathe," she whispered, grabbing her godfather's hand. The sounds of battle echoed in her ears and her brother's face appeared before her again, deathly pale. "Remus - Remus, is Harry-"

"Terrified for you, but safe."

"I want Harry," she said breathlessly, clinging to Remus.

"We need to get you out first."

"I need him!" she said shrilly, panic rising to a lump in her throat. "What if he's hurt, I saw he - I need to know he's okay, Remus, where is he

"He's at Hogwarts."

"He can't - Hogwarts isn't safe, he could die there, Remus—"

"Calla," he said softly, though his voice was shaking too, "you can tell me later, by right now I need you to stay quiet so we can get you out. Harry is safe, he is alive, and you will see him as soon as possible."

She didn't like it, but she forced herself to swallow back the hysterical words of panic, around the lump in her throat, forced herself to cling to this strange wand. She needed her own, it was important, she needed it, she needed Harry.

Calla clung to Remus, remembering what he said. Soon. Soon.

God, she thought, letting out a sudden sob, she needed to see her brother.

Remus and Moody knew their way better than she did. They raced down slippery corridors, keeping an eye and ear out for any more who came their way.

"Looks like the others have got them distracted," Remus panted.

"They - they're still fighting?" Calla shook her head, clinging tightly to this new wand. It was warm in her hand but it still felt wrong - it wasn't hers, she wanted her wand, she didn't want this. "Should we help?"

"Our orders are to get you out, Potter," Moody said. "We need you alive, not jumping into a fight. Soon as you're safe, we're getting everything we can and going."

She was dragged up a flight of stairs and through to a corridor with wide open windows that looked over a balcony. Moody made to go through them, but they held rigidly in place. Remus swore and held Calla back.

Moody muttered alohamora but it didn't work. Her heart raced. "They'll have put wards down," she said quickly, "they've got them everywhere, I'm sure, I could only leave if I was with Mrs Malfoy-"

Moody blew the windows open and they shattered. Calla shrieked.

"Voice down!" Moody reminded her as if the fucking window exploding wouldn't summon everyone anyway. He ushered her forward and she ran out onto the balcony, which was connected to two grand staircases. She ran down, slipping over the wet stones - it had been raining, she realised, as she felt the fresh air fill her lungs. It was tinged with magic, it always was, but it felt free. She felt, possibly, free.

The three of them ran across the lawn to a dark outcropping of trees. In the shadows, Calla saw a bright shock of pink appear only for a split second, but she knew who it was. She ran faster, even though it pained her chest, until she was safe in the darkness.

Tonks grabbed her arm and pulled her close towards her, tucked safely into her side. Calla let out a wretched sob, clinging to her warmth. "We've got her," she announced over her shoulder. "Are you alright?" Calla nodded stiffly. "Oh, God, you poor thing." Then she took Remus' hand. "Come on. We have Sirius. You're safe now, but we had better go as quick as we can."

"What about the others?" Calla asked.

"They'll be fine," Tonks said, though there was a note of worry in her voice. "They were backup, in case we needed a distraction. Turns out you did. But everyone in the Order knows what they're doing," she added, because Calla felt ill and she was sure it showed. She didn't want any of them to get hurt just for her, and yet she was so, so relieved that they had come at last. "You're the important one here, Calla. Come on."

They ran through the trees, slipping over moss and leaves. "Sirius is at the edge, Hestia stayed to fight. The wards end at the gate, but it should still be open."

Calla couldn't see any gate but she kept running. Just a little further, she thought as her head started to grow dizzy and faint. The house was pulling her back, demanding she stay, and he rmovements were sluggish as she felt her strength slipping away, her resolve.

Just a little further, just a little, you can do it-

They burst out of the trees and towards the gates which shone in the sunlight. Just as she thought she reached it, when she could see Sirius, she thought of safety, there was a low growl from behind and she startled, falling. Tonks dragged her up again, but Calla caught a glimpse of bright yellow eyes and she screamed.

She pulled back. She couldn't go beyond the forest, she couldn't escape, she was stuck here, and beyond that forest there was a future where her brother—

"Calla!" Remus shouted in her ear, dragging her along. "Calla, don't!"

She stumbled over the threshold and Sirius grabbed her, holding her against him. The weight of her almost knocked him off his feet, he was so frail. Tonks grabbed them, too, then Remus. "Hold on tight," Remus told her, though between them he and Sirius were holding her so tight she barely needed to. "Now."

There was a crack, Calla felt her insides curl in on themselves, and they were thrown into the darkness to arrive on the doorstep of the Burrow.

"Why are we-"

"Inside," Moody grunted, hauling her forwards over the threshold, "quickly now."

Tonks raised her wand to conjure a pale silvery patronus in the shape of a jack rabbit, which sniffed the air and then went hopping through the cluttered front room and up the rickety staircase. Remus kept a tight grip on Calla's arm until the patronus reappeared, followed by Molly and Arthur.

"Oh, Calla," Mrs Weasley cried, hurrying down the stairs towards her with her arms outstretched. She was swept into a warm, tight hug, but the touch felt wrong, itchy, and Calla recoiled, trying to struggle away. "Oh, we've been so worried, sweetheart, I couldn't believe… Oh, and Sirius! Are you alright?" She stepped back and patted Calla's cheek. Calla flinched, and her face fell. "Oh, of course you're not. I know, I know." She pushed back a strand of Calla's hair to expose her scar. Calla could see from the look on Molly's face that it was bad.

"Goodness," she murmured. Calla squirmed, feeling everybody's eyes on her. "And that's…"

"What?" Calla asked nervously. It had been worse after the graveyard too, nothing Madam Pomfrey could do had seemed to work for weeks.

"We'll have to get you something to help cover it up," Mrs Weasley said, looking around at the Order assembled behind Calla. "You poor thing. Come along, we're putting you up here for tonight. Remus, Alastor, Dumbledore wants a full de-brief as soon as possible, but if you stick around I'll make dinner." Her eyes were soft when they flitted from Calla to Sirius. "You look so frightfully thin, both of you."

Then Mrs Weasley took Calla around the shoulders and guided her up the stairs. Calla felt numb, simply keeping a grip on her wand and moving alongside Mrs Weasley. Her eyes retraced the stairs, the steps, the hangings on the walls. When she glanced over her shoulder she saw Sirius swaying slightly as he spoke in low tones to the others, face etched with terror. Her chest panged.

"Where's Harry?" she asked softly when they reached the top of the stairs. Her eyes fixed on the room he had shared with Ron last year. Chudley Cannons posters. She could see the orange now.

Mrs Weasley pursed her lips. "He is still at Hogwarts. Dumbledore wanted him to stay there until the end of term, though I gather he was quite adamant."

Still at Hogwarts. It made her suddenly aware of an emptiness inside of her. She didn't know how long it was until the end of term, but the very idea of it, of having to wait any longer to see her brother, made her angry. She wanted to see him. She needed to see him.

"Won't he be able to see me sooner?"

"I would hope so," Molly told her, "but Dumbledore wants to be cautious where Harry is concerned, and where you are. We couldn't let on about our activities to the Ministry."

"Remus said - Remus said as soon as possible!" She fought to turn around but Molly held her. Just as well - she nearly toppled over the top step, and even when she stared down the height didn't seem so awful because part of her wanted to fall anyway. "I need Harry, he needs me, needs to be safe!"

"I he should be here," Molly added hastily, "Ron tells me they're all out of their minds with worry, but Harry most of all." She shook her head as they turned down the hall on one of the higher floors, towards what was usually Ginny's room. "I don't know how Dumbledore justifies it, but he always has his reasons."

"Right." Calla felt faint and sick.

She wanted her brother, wanted so badly to see him, to cry to the one person who understood. The one person she could trust.

When Molly led her into Ginny's room, she sank down on the chair in the corner with her head ringing. Her lip wobbled. She didn't want to cry at all, but Molly immediately put her arm around her. "W-what day is it?"

"The seventh of December." Molly smiled tightly. "It's not too long to go until the end of term."

That meant it had been more than two weeks since she had been taken. It meant there would be another three before she would see her brother, if he wasn't let go until the end of term. She needed him. She didn't care what Dumbledore said, she needed her brother and knew he needed her too.

"I am so sorry, dear." Molly rubbed her shoulder gently. "We'll have you back at Headquarters soon, but we thought for now it would be best to keep you away from London. It's the place you'll be expected to return to, see?" Calla had no option but to nod numbly. "Now, I know it isn't home, but the room should be comfortable enough for you."

"It's fine," she said quietly, even though it wasn't. Nothing was fine, not at all, not the scars on her arm or the one burning on her forehead, not the wrong wand in her hand, not the empty ache inside her, the light, dizzied feeling of her head. "Thank you, Molly."

Molly hovered awkwardly beside Calla, though she didn't know what she was supposed to do.

She wanted to cry, and she wanted to throw up and she wanted to scream and she wanted to break the mirror and she wanted to curl up in a ball and go to sleep.

"Word will be sent to Harry as soon as possible, I'm sure," she said, eyebrows knitted together. "And Professor Dumbledore will want to see you."

"Right."

Molly sighed and said, "I'll leave you alone for a little while if you'd prefer it. And we'll get you some clean clothes and a bath before dinner. Have some Dreamless Sleep Potion. It'll help, for now." She stroked Calla's hair in what Calla thought was a distinctly maternal manner. It made her want to cry again. "It'll be alright. You've been through a terrible thing, Calla. But you will be okay."

Calla didn't like those sorts of statements. They were just empty, when she didn't believe them at all. She hadn't been okay since June, if she'd ever been okay at all.

"Thanks," she said hollowly, trying to smile. It faltered, her face fell, and her eyes swam with tears.

"You need to rest," Molly told her, sweeping her hair over her shoulder.

"Arthur said Dumbledore needs de-briefed..."

"Dumbledore can wait," Molly said sternly. "Rest, Calla. You need it."