The Paths We Tread
Chapter 3:
Before I Wake
Abbott Home
St Albans, England
July 23, 1996
Hannah couldn't sleep.
She turned over balefully in her bed, eyes screwed shut as she tried to force herself to drift off. It was well past one am, she knew, and she had a review session with her DA team the next – that – morning. She needed to sleep. Merlin knew, she wasn't the quickest draw in their group, and she didn't need to hamper her reflexes even further.
But her mind just. Wouldn't. STOP.
Hannah let out a heavy sigh and sat up dramatically, tossing her blankets off the bed to the floor. She pulled her knees up to her chest and pillowed her head on her knees, shoving her hands in her long hair. After a couple slow, steady breaths, she pushed herself up into a seated position, then grabbed her wand and scooted out of bed.
Hannah had struggled with insomnia since she could remember. When she was a toddler, an older cousin had accidentally hit her with an overpowered Ennervate – showing off for some girl, her mother always declared angrily – and ever since, Hannah had trouble sleeping more than a handful of hours at a time. Her parents had taken her to mediwizards, potioneers – even dabbled with Muggle medicine. Nothing helped. By this point, coming up on sixteen years old, Hannah was used to functioning off of little sleep.
But even for her, an hour was bad. She'd be useless in practice. Ernie would never let her live it down.
With a groan, she threw herself into her chair by the window, staring out into the garden. Her home outside the city was tucked away in a grove that looked like wilds to any passing Muggles, but Hannah had always loved the house. If she squinted sometimes, she could almost see the lights from St Albans Cathedral, as the fairies came out in droves to play after the town had gone to sleep.
She hated not being able to sleep, but she loved these moments of quiet, the stillness and peacefulness in the night. Hogwarts was always so full of life, so frantic – and with her brothers and sisters, her home was much the same.
Which reminded her. She really should go check on her little sister – dad was probably still trying to sleep off his cold. She smiled sadly at the thought of her father, working to try to take care of them all by himself while she was off at school.
It had been a hard year.
Hannah slipped into the hallway quietly, tiptoeing so as not to wake the twins and her oldest brother. If the two four year olds and one nine year old woke, the entire house would be up within moments. She peeked in on them anyway, grinning as she saw her youngest brothers tangled in one bed, Andy's elbow just under Erik's cheek. No matter what she and her father did – and her mother, before – they just couldn't get those two to sleep in separate beds.
Hannah shook her head fondly and continued on down the hall, easing carefully into her baby sister's room. Little Emily's room was decked out in swirls of pink and white, with enough lace and ruffles to make any princess proud. The remaining pile of gifts that Emily had tired of ripping into were piled by the rocking chair in the corner, all covered in wrapping paper with little cartoon owls shooting across the front. A fox mobile spun above her baby sister's crib, and the just-turned one year old was sleeping contentedly, her thumb jammed into her mouth and her little body splayed above the covers.
Hannah smiled softly, reaching down to brush a tuft of hair back from Emily's eyes –
Then spun suddenly, her wand clenched in her grip as her hands shook and her eyes narrowed. The thud sounded again, and she whispered nervously, "Hello?"
Silence echoed through the room, and her breath came out in a shaky exhale as she looked around, moving carefully to stand between her baby sister and the door. "Dad?" she tried again, but no one answered.
The thud sounded again, then something almost like branches lashing a window – but there's no storm tonight, Hannah thought frantically. Someone is –
She swallowed, then steered herself with another shaky breath. Spinning around, she shot a quick Disillusionment charm at her sister, then herself, then Hannah darted out into the hallway, moving as silently as she could. She could see her father in his bed at the end of the hall, snoring loudly, and shot a silencing and disillusioning charm his way as well, before moving quickly past her brothers' rooms. A louder thud echoed through the house, and she thanked Merlin that her best friend's Aunt had the ability to have such powerful wards placed –
Then she made it to the top of the stairs, and the front door blew in silently. Hannah jumped a foot in the air as three men appeared, all wrapped in black cloaks with white masks, and had to clap her hands over her mouth to stop from screaming. She backed away carefully, her back hitting the wall, and struggled to be still as the men swept into her home.
As she watched, the middle one ripped off his mask and peered around, his face twisted in a horrible scowl. His sunken eyes were lined with heavy kohl, his dark hair falling in waves around his face. "Spread out," he said tersely, "find them."
The other two men nodded and one disappeared towards her kitchen, the other going down towards the basement. The leader looked up the stairs, his wand held aloft, then moved in Hannah's direction with slow, deliberate steps. Shaking, Hannah felt in her pocket for the D.A. coin, and carefully pointed her wand at the small metal talisman.
The man passed her in the hallway, and Hannah swallowed, closing her eyes as she tried to stop her hand shaking. She turned and followed him, watching as he looked into every room then snorted with disgust.
The other two men came clambering up the stairs, no longer trying to keep quiet, and joined their leader in the hallway just outside Emily's room. Carefully skirting around the three, Hannah eased her way from the opposite side of the hallway to stand right by her sister's door. She hovered there nervously, watching as the group looked around with matching scowls.
"Scabior, there's no one here," the shortest one said angrily. "This was a waste of time. Let's just – "
Then Hannah let out a sigh of relief, and the leader froze. She tried to go still, but –
A hand shot across the hallway and grabbed her by the throat, and Hannah struggled for breath as she was lifted off her feet. She clawed at the hand as her vision greyed around the edges, and she distantly heard her wand clatter to the floor. The man was giving her a nasty smile as he put the tip of his wand directly against her temple and hissed, "Finite Incantatum."
Hannah felt a rippling over her body and the man's hand loosened on her throat. She gasped for air as the man stared at her steadily.
"Clever girl," he whispered, "but not clever enough."
A tear slipped down Hannah's face as she hung from the man's hold, her throat and lungs burning.
The men behind him began cackling, and he shot a glare at them before barking out, "Spread out! Find the others." Hannah began struggling again, a red haze clouding her mind as the two men slipped off into her brothers' rooms, and shouts of "Avada Kedavra" echoed through the house. One of the men came back and disappeared into her dad's room, and Hannah felt something inside herself die.
The leader was still standing there, hand around her throat as Hannah's family died around her, as she struggled to keep breathing. "Let's go get your sister, shall we?" the man whispered to her, and Hannah finally snapped.
Time seemed to freeze as she moved, and she swung her right leg with all her might, her knee slamming the man between his legs. Her captor grunted, his hand unclenching and dropping her to the ground as he fell over, wheezing. Hannah snatched up her wand and shot to her feet, not even bothering with a spell as she ran to her sister's crib. She cradled the little girl in her arms and tucked her sister's head under her chin, then pointed her wand at the window as she heard her attacker struggle to his feet.
"Reducto!" Hannah gasped out, and the window shattered, shards of glass scouring her face, and her baby sister began to shriek. She tightened her grip on Emily and took a deep breath, then put down her head and ran full-out at the window, jumping straight out into the night. She heard a shout behind her as she landed roughly, her feet knocked out from under her and her knees jarring, and her baby sister was still crying. Hannah jumped up and bolted for the street as the man climbed down behind her, and her lungs heaved as she tried to force herself ahead –
And a sudden pop, and Professor Lupin stood across the street. The man ran at her, grabbing her in his arms as her baby sister continued to wail, and Hannah let out a sob as he tucked her head into his shoulder with one hand, and pointed his wand behind them with the other. A blistering heat streamed by her –
And they were gone.
The Burrow
Ottery St. Catchpole
Devon, England
July 23, 1996
Ron was used to going without sleep. Life as Harry Potter's – and even Hermione's, really – best friend involved a certain amount of stress, sleeplessness, and danger. It was par for the course, and it was rather normal for him.
But Ron was fairly certain he was never going to be able to sleep again.
Ron and his mother had just finished speaking with Dumbledore. They had just woken their unexpected Muggle houseguest from her faint. She had latched on to Percy – Percy – as a safety net, refusing to let go of his arm. Percy had, for once, stood up and refused authority, adamantly insisting the woman not be Obliviated.
Ron was fairly sure the look of hero-worship in the girl's eyes had something to do with that.
After hemming and hawing and absent smiles from Dumbledore, they had decided to save the conversation for morning and Percy had bundled the woman up, leading her up to Charlie's room to settle down for the night. Dumbledore had Floo'd away and Ron's mother had watched the stairs with a scowl. Ron just sat down with his head in his hands, trying to catch his breath from the insanity that had taken over his night.
Then Hannah's emergency beacon had come across the D.A. coin, and no sooner had Ron managed to send off a Patronus to Lupin than the man was standing in their front walk, a sobbing Hannah and a screaming invisible baby in tow. Ginny shouldered by Ron and ran to Hannah, wrapping an arm around the girl's shoulder and talking in low, soothing voices as she steered their classmate inside.
Ron looked at Lupin questioningly, and the older man shook his head with a frown. The man disappeared with a quiet pop, returning a moment later with a stone-faced Neville and a crying Luna on his arms. Luna ran into the house as Neville stood there and stared straight ahead.
"Harry still in Germany?" Neville asked after a moment, and Ron nodded. "And Hermione?"
"Hogwarts infirmary," Shacklebolt's deep voice sounded behind them, and Ron looked up at Shacklebolt and Moody, who had just appeared on the path. "Tonks is sitting with her."
Lupin shot a look at Shacklebolt as Ron grimaced.
"Is she okay?" Neville asked immediately, "was she…"
"No," Shacklebolt said immediately. "She wasn't attacked. Just sick."
Neville let out a relieved sigh and scrubbed a hand over his eyes, then trudged tiredly into Ron's house. Ron just stood there, eyes narrowed as he looked at the trio of men standing before him.
"What aren't you saying?" he asked slowly, and Shacklebolt shook his head as the other two men scowled.
"You'll have to ask her, Ron," Lupin said gently, then he clapped a hand on Ron's shoulder. "Let's go deal with what's in front of us, shall we?"
Ron stared at the man a moment more, then nodded, turning and preceding them into the house.
Someone must have Floo called Susan Bones, he noticed idly, because the red-haired curvy Hufflepuff sat on his couch with Hannah curled into her side and weeping. As he watched, his mother looked over the pair with a teary-eyed frown, then swept her gaze over Ron and the adult Order members and bustled off into the kitchen. Neville was perched on the arm of Luna's chair, a hand on her shoulder, and the blond Ravenclaw looked rather unsteady herself.
None of the adults were saying anything, and Ginny was shooting him a look, so Ron cleared his throat and sat on the coffee table in front of Hannah. Susan glanced at him for a second, then went back to rubbing Hannah's back as the smaller witch clung tightly to her now visible baby sister, who had thankfully cried herself to sleep.
"What happened?" he asked quietly.
Hannah sniffled, dragging one hand over her eyes, and let out a shaky breath. "I couldn't sleep," she said haltingly, her voice hoarse and low. Ginny's eyebrows raised as the other girl spoke, and Ron knew why – Hannah's voice was usually a bit high. "I went to check on my sister, and I heard banging outside – everyone else was asleep, and I didn't have time to wake them up and get them out, so… I hid them. Disillusioned, so I could go check it out. But – "
Her voice trailed off, and for a moment, the only sound in the room was the crackling of the fire. "Clever," Ginny said finally, and Hannah snorted.
"That's what he said," she said angrily. "I messed up, and he heard me, and he figured it out. He – he killed – I couldn't – "
She dissolved into tears again, and Ron swallowed as his sister gave him a meaningful look. "Hannah, you – " he began.
But a sudden heat seared into his side, and he jumped up, swearing violently as he fished his DA coin out of his pocket. Ginny and Neville were already shooting to their feet, with Luna standing a little more slowly. Ron fumbled with the coin for a second then swore again. "The Creeveys and the Patils," he bit out, and Lupin and Moody nodded, each of them moving quickly for the door. Their sharp pops echoed through the air and Ron swore as the coin heated again. As he looked down at the coin, the letters flew across the surface, and Brown gleamed in the center.
"Lavender Brown's house!" He spun towards Shacklebolt, and the man ran out of the room. The coin heated again and –
Susan was staring at him, a look of horror on her face. "This isn't random," she whispered. "They are targeting us. They are targeting the DA." She jumped from the couch and ran over to the fireplace, throwing powder quickly into the flames. "Amelia Bones office!" she shouted, but Ron was already moving. Spinning on his heel, he turned to his sister.
"Get to Hermione's, find the master coin," he told her hurriedly, "send out an alert, everyone go to ground! Let them know we'll contact them as soon as we can, but run now."
Ginny nodded and disappeared into the kitchen, Luna brushing by and following her, and Ron heard them jump into the kitchen fire and the woosh of them vanishing. Behind him, Amelia Bones stepped into the house, glaring at him over her monocle, and Ron turned to meet her gaze as Lupin reappeared, alone.
Ron's heart sank, and he let out a shaky breath and sat down hard in a chair.
Amelia Bones was still standing there, looking at him.
And Shacklebolt appeared in the doorway – also alone, Ron noticed miserably – and stepped forward, capturing his boss's attention. Ron sank into the couch, his hands shaking, as Shacklebolt explained the events to the terrifying woman.
Harry, Hermione, he thought, get back here. I need you.
Shell Cottage
Tinworth, Cornwall
July 24, 1996
Everything hurt.
Harry woke with a gasp, reflexively shoving up into a sitting position. Fiery jolts shot through every nerve and vein in his body and his chest heaved as he struggled to take a breath. Everything was blurry and the room was spinning and he –
"Easy, son!" a voice cut through his panic, and a pair of chapped hands settled on his shoulders. Harry jerked back against the contact, starting as he took in the blurry features of Arthur Weasley.
The older man frowned and sat on the edge of the bed – the bed in Harry's room at the cottage, the teen realized as his heart rate slowed – his hands clasped in his lap.
"Breathe, Harry," Arthur said softly, a strange look flitting across his face. Harry shook his head, screwing his eyes shut as another spasm of pain wracked through his body, then let out a slow, shaky breath as the pounding in his head dulled to a steady thrum.
He let out another breath, then another, then finally scrubbed his hand across his eyes and leaned heavily against the wall.
"What happened?" he asked. "How long was I asleep? And where's Bill?"
Mr. Weasley grinned wryly, his stiff posture relaxing slightly. "Well, in order – it worked, but it was touch and go for a while there – for you and for me. Your magic was trying to defend you against the invasion, even though we were trying to remove something harmful to you, so it was an exciting night. It is just after dawn on the 24th, and you've been unconscious for almost twenty-four hours. And Bill is in his shed outside. I kicked him out about four hours ago to get some sleep, but of course he didn't listen."
Harry just looked at the Weasley patriarch, his brow furrowed. A million questions were coursing through his mind – why the man knew someone like Brand, how he had worked with him, why no one seemed to know, why Bill was so angry – but he ended up asking, "For me and you?"
Arthur let out a strange sound, half laugh, half regretful sigh. "For a moment there, I thought Bill was going to kill me," he admitted, and Harry stared. The man's eyes seemed to unfocus for a second, then he shook his head and seemed to gather himself. "I'm going to have to head back to Molly soon. But you must be hungry, and thirsty," he murmured. "I'll get you something, shall I?" As Harry watched, Arthur got tiredly to his feet and moved quickly out of the room.
Harry stared at the other man's retreating back as he once again tried to sit up straight. It was easier this time – the pain felt like flames licking through his body, rather than his blood practically boiling in his veins. The ache pounded on in his head like a steady drumbeat, and spots swam before his eyes, but Harry closed his eyes, let out another shaky breath, and remained upright. He counted to three, opened his eyes, and willed the pain to retreat.
It didn't, but it did seem to fade just a little bit more.
The door swung inward again and Arthur Weasley reappeared, a tray floating before him and Bill and Charlie on his heels. Charlie trudged into the room with his spiky hair a mess and a red mark on his cheek, rubbing his hand over his mouth repeatedly. The dragonkeeper quirked a grin at Harry and settled heavily in the armchair by the window, his eyes darting back and forth between his brother and his father. The senior Weasley ignored them all, setting the tray down across Harry's lap with a slight smile, and gestured to the food as Bill moved to sit in the small folding chair right next to Harry.
"How are you feeling?" Bill asked in a low, urgent voice, his eyes narrowed as he looked over the teen.
Harry shrugged, wincing as the motion jostled his sore muscles. "Like my insides were set on fire and scrubbed raw," he said honestly, too tired to bother to hide it. "It's already loads better than when I first woke up."
The three other men in the room let out a collective relieved breath, and Harry looked at Bill questioningly.
"The procedure that was performed on you was extremely risky," the cursebreaker explained. "Many have died from it in the past, apparently. I've been researching possible side effects while you were sleeping – we're going to have to check you for some things."
"But," Harry replied slowly, "Mr. Weasley, you said it worked, right?"
The eldest Weasley frowned slightly. "We were successful in removing the taint. We weren't yet able to check all the possible impacts, not with you unconscious."
Harry shook his head. He wasn't sure he even wanted to think about this yet. Picking up his spoon, he scooped up a small helping of porridge, frowning at the bowl.
"We have other things we need to discuss," Bill added suddenly, his eyes boring into his father, and as Harry watched, Charlie jerked in the armchair, sitting up quickly.
Arthur Weasley let out a tired sigh. "Now is not the time, boys," he said softly, and without another word, the Weasley patriarch turned and walked out of the room.
Charlie's jaw dropped, but Bill, Harry saw, just stared at the doorway with narrowed eyes.
Something, Harry realized, was very, very wrong.
Granger Household
London, England
July 26, 1996
Hermione sat silently on her windowseat, knees tucked to her chest as she stared out at the ever-present rain. Her trunk was packed and waiting at the bottom of the stairs. Crookshanks, who she had captured twenty minutes earlier, was yowling pitifully in his carrier. Her parents sat in the kitchen, waiting nervously for the arrival of Snape, Lupin, and Tonks.
They'd done fairly well that morning, she reflected. They had only asked her to stay for the whole summer four times. They had only begged her to transfer to an American or Australian school twice. She'd rather expected worse.
But Hermione had put her foot down, and informed her parents that she wasn't going to let any jumped-up Hitler copycat force her out of her own country, her own life. And they had gone quiet and let it go.
If they noticed her shelves and closets were a bit more barren than they would usually be before her yearly departure, if they noticed the note left on their bed, they made no comment.
A soft rustling sound near her door drew her eyes, and she looked over to see Daniel Granger standing in the doorway. "All set to go, Pumpkin?" he asked softly, and she smiled.
Shuffling his feet nervously, the man hovered in the doorway a moment before walking in to sit on the edge of her bed. He looked at his daughter as if he were trying to memorize her face, his eyes suspiciously bright.
"Hermione," he said haltingly, "I know your – your professor and Poppy explained to us that this... that what's wrong with you is rather bad."
Hermione said nothing.
"But I want you to know your mother and I, we won't give up on you. We won't leave you. And you're a fighter, you always have been. I know you'll beat this thing."
Tears in his eyes, Daniel Granger looked into the eyes of his only child. "I just need to hear you say that you know you will."
Hermione flinched. "Daddy," she whispered, "I – "
"I saw the note," he interrupted. "And I understand why you want to protect us. I'm telling you now, you do not have our permission to meddle with our memories and send us away. You are not the parent here, and you have no right to take away our memories of you." She flinched again, and still she was silent. "If we have to live in that ridiculous headquarters of yours, so be it!" he added forcefully. "But I refuse to forget you."
Hermione wrapped her arms around herself and stared out the window. "It's safer that way."
Daniel Granger shook his head, crossing the room to kneel next to his daughter. With a sad smile, he took her chilled hands in his. "It's pointless that way," he replied, and Hermione choked back a sob.
Releasing her hands, he stood and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Someday," he said softly as he stood, "I imagine you'll understand." Turning, he left the room, nodding to the entering Professor Snape as he left.
The dour professor froze in the doorway, taking in his student's tear-streaked face. She turned and looked at him challengingly, and he scowled. "It's not too late to change your mind," he said.
Hermione shook her head.
"Very well," said the professor, and turning on his heel, he stalked into the kitchen.
Dan and Emma Granger looked up at him from their kitchen table, sad smiles on their faces. "She's doing worse today," Emma told him softly, and Snape grimaced.
"There have been many studies proving a connection between physical and mental well-being," he replied, his hand clenched around his wand in his pocket. "Unfortunately, as she tires, her depression will likely worsen. There are potions to combat it, and there is the old-fashioned remedy of company, but only so much can be done."
Emma Granger closed her eyes, tears prickling at the corners. "Promise me," she whispered, as her husband grasped her hand. "Promise you'll look after her."
Severus Snape looked at the muggle woman and said softly, "I promise." He drew his wand, trained on the woman and her husband.
Hermione crept carefully down the hallway, careful to avoid the creaky steps. She paused outside the kitchen door and listened with bated breath.
"-promise," Professor Snape said quietly. A pause, and then –
"Obliviate," he intoned, and Hermione sagged against the wall, tears of loss, tears of relief, streaming down her face. Moments later, the professor came through the kitchen doors, looking unsurprised to see her there.
"Get everything," he said tersely, sliding a vial holding a clump of light brown hair into his pocket. "Lupin and Tonks will be here any minute now."
She nodded and moved silently to the front hallway, where her trunk and Crookshanks waited, and within the space of ten minutes, all magic had vanished from the house.
Hermione Granger walked out the door of her childhood home, never to return.
Dora's Flat
London, England
July 28, 1996
Tonks was restless.
She paced up and down the small study, twirling her wand in one hand as she glared at the walls. Her steps were careful and quiet, no matter that she had spelled the entire room to block any noise in.
She wasn't much used to having a house-guest, but she was pretty sure that terminally ill, traumatized teenage girls who had just erased their parents' memories – well, Tonks was pretty sure Hermione needed sleep.
But the girl had been there for a day, had been quiet and withdrawn, but mostly Hermione-like. Tonks had a feeling the kid was holding up, like she always seemed to do.
She, on the other hand, was not.
She stopped in place, staring at the board on her wall with a scowl. Over the last week, she had checked every singlet known hang-out, every known associate of Bellatrix Lestrange, and what had it gotten her?
Nada. Zip. Zilch.
"Can't even avenge your family right," Tonks scoffed at herself, scrubbing a hand over her tired eyes as her hair turned bright red.
It was barely 1 am, and she'd been up for three nights running, pacing this room, trying to find an angle. Trying to find someone she hadn't thought to shake down, somewhere she hadn't thought to check.
Well, when she was off the streets, rather.
With a frown, Tonks stopped mid-stride, her brow furrowed. A crumpled picture was taped to the wall, the edges curling in on themselves. She stepped forward, peeling the picture off the wall, and stared down at the image in her hand.
By birth and genetics, Dora Tonks looked exactly like her dear aunt Bellatrix, which was exactly why she had always chosen a different form. And years of playing with different builds and facial features had left her with an uncanny eye for faces.
She looked across the images taped to the wall, her eyes suddenly picking up the pattern she had missed. In every one of her photos staking out the White Wyvern, each time for over three years –
The same man. Looking straight at her.
She swore harshly, snatching another of the pictures off the wall, and shot out of the room, almost tripping over the threshold. Pressing a hand against the wall to steady herself, she moved more carefully down the hallway and peered into the guest room she'd made over for Hermione. The teen witch was asleep, the small figurine by her bed at rest as well.
No time like the present, Tonks thought with a vicious smirk, and with a quick wave of her wand, she shot a Patronus off to Shack. She moved quickly through the flat, grabbing her dagger from under the false bottom in her end table, her satchel from behind a wall panel, and she slipped into the hallway, closing the flat's door quietly behind herself. Pressing her hand to the doorframe, she murmured the activation key for the wards – thanks, Bill – she thought idly, then all but bolted down the stairs.
A couple Apparition jumps, and Tonks landed in an alley behind the tavern, slipping quickly into the shadows. She shifted quickly, her frame becoming more curvy, her hair longer, wavy, and a gleaming golden blonde. She smiled, testing her new face, and her now sparkling blue eyes gleamed in the darkness.
Tonks tapped her wand on her side, and her jeans and ripped t-shirt transformed into a curve-hugging sheath dress. With another quick wave of her wand, her trainers became four-inch pumps, and Tonks walked out of the alley, striding down the street into the White Wyvern.
The door shut roughly behind her, a sudden gust of freezing wind ushering her inside, and Tonks looked across the tavern and smiled.
She moved carefully across the crowded room, eyes on her target, and put on a flirtatious smile, sliding up behind the man at the pool table and putting a perfectly manicured hand on his shoulder. The man didn't say a word, just turned around with a smug smile and looked her up and down.
It didn't take long – about fifteen minutes in a dark corner and Tonks wrapped a hand around the man's neck and whispered, "Let's get out of here." She shot the man another coquettish smile, sauntering towards the door, and the poor sod actually followed.
Three hours later, Tonks was walking back up the steps of her flat, a trace of blood still on her hands. She trudged through her door and stopped dead just inside, staring blearily at the sight of Shack and Remus. Remus was sitting on her battered couch, a set of cards held between his fingers and a cigar between his lips, and Shack – six foot four, two hundred eighty pound Shack – was sitting cross-legged on a cushion on the floor, a tumbler of whiskey by his elbow on her coffee table and a hand of cards thrown on the ground.
A wry smile twisted her lips as she stalked across the living room and sank onto the couch beside Lupin, immediately toppling over onto his side. The older man shifted obligingly, putting his shoulder more firmly under her head, and Tonks bit back another smile.
She was wearing him down, she just knew it.
"You're such a sore loser, Shack," she muttered, and her partner scoffed.
"I wasn't losing," he protested, and Lupin chuckled. "Where the bloody hell did you go now?" Shack continued, changing the subject, and Tonks scowled.
Forcing herself into a seated position, the metamorphmagus reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. She unfolded the paper and smoothed it on the coffee table between them, and Lupin and Shack both leaned forward in interest.
"I found a watchman for the White Wyvern," she said quietly. "And here is the name of every single Death Eater or sympathizer he has seen in the tavern. Including," she said with a smirk, "five ministry workers who have met with dear Bella in the last three months."
Lupin frowned, reaching out to tap the fourth name from the bottom. "Is that – ?"
Kingsley stood up, his face set and his eyes flashing. "I'll Firecall Dumbledore."
Tonks leaned back on her couch, eyes closed as she tried to wash away the memory of the past several hours. On the sheet on her table, the name Sturgis Podmore gleamed in the firelight.
Shell Cottage
Tinworth, Cornwall
July 28, 1996
This little beach, Harry thought wryly to himself, is getting crowded.
He sat on the sand with his legs stretched slightly before him, wincing every so often as a twinge shot through his body. It was getting late, but not quite sundown, and the waves were crashing harder and harder along the shore as the air grew cooler. He watched the spray along the rocks as his mind raced, and let out a quiet sigh.
The Order was still gathered at Grimmauld, all of them probably shouting at each other as Dumbledore, Mad-Eye, McGonagall, Lupin, Shack and Arthur Weasley closeted themselves in the study. Harry hadn't been able to take it anymore after the group had been gone from the room five minutes. The entire Order had dissolved into arguments and screaming matches soon after Shacklebolt had announced that Sturgis Podmore was wanted for questioning, and that the Order would be dedicating a group to searching for the man.
Harry had immediately looked to Dumbledore – the man was one of his headmaster's dearest friends.
The eccentric old wizard just looked sad.
After the fifth inflammatory remark from Diggle, Harry had shoved his chair back and stalked to his feet, storming from the room and heading straight for the Floo. He hadn't even said anything to Bill, hadn't waited for his guardian's reaction or permission, just went straight back to the cottage, to peace and quiet and a lack of infighting.
It wasn't even thirty seconds later that Ginny came after him, and the two of them had sat silently on the beach for an hour, just watching the waves.
The rest of their small group had trickled in over the course of another thirty minutes, and Ron reported heavily that Dumbledore had had to break up the fighting with a loud, gong-like spell when he and the others had returned. The Order was not taking well to the idea of searching for one of their own.
"He's redoing the Fidelius, from what Mad-Eye said," Ron went on. The lanky ginger was tossing a flat shell back and forth between his hands as he dug his heels into the sand. A little ways behind him, Ginny and Luna were walking along the edge of the water, Ginny gesturing wildly as Luna watched her with a pensive expression. "And everyone is taking Veritaserum. Anyone who refuses will be memory charmed."
"Not taking any chances this time," Hermione murmured, a frown twisting her face. She shoved one hand into her mass of hair and closed her eyes, sighing. "But that won't detect the Imperius curse, and Snape says you can build up a resistance to Veritaserum."
Harry, Ron and Neville shared a look, but the three all ignored the reference to their Potions Master.
"I'm not saying it doesn't matter that there may be a traitor in the Order," Harry said finally, "but we aren't sharing all our secrets with them anyway. No one knows where this cottage is but Dumbledore, the Weasleys, Lupin, Shack, Tonks, and all of you. Krum just Portkeys in, and so do the others. Hermione, hardly anyone knows you're staying with Tonks, or where your parents are. And Moody?" He scoffed. "I think our training is a fairly safe secret."
"So, what?" Ginny asked from their right, and the others swung their gazes to her as Ginny and Luna joined the group, practically throwing themselves down on the blanket Hermione had conjured. "Are you saying it doesn't matter if the Order is compromised?"
Harry shook his head, his mouth set in a grim line. "I'm saying we have other problems to worry about."
"We have to worry about our own people," Neville agreed quietly.
The black-haired teen flinched, turning his gaze to the waves, and the whole group fell silent. Harry flexed his wrist slightly, fighting back a wince as white-hot pain flared through his body.
He didn't remember much, but it came to him in flashes – Arthur Weasley's kindly face blank and expressionless, the older man's fingers digging into Harry's shoulders, holding him down – the psychotic spellcrafter injecting something into Harry's temples and a searing pain in his head, and the smell…
Harry swallowed convulsively, and closed his eyes.
And while he was strapped to a table, his classmates had been losing their families. Or been killed themselves.
He opened his eyes and met Hermione's worried gaze. Shaking off his sudden sorrow, he shrugged.
"I'm not suggesting cutting ties with the Order, or that it doesn't matter," he responded in an easy tone, and Hermione relaxed fractionally. "I just think we need to focus on what to do about the D.A."
The last several days had been hellish for everyone, Harry knew. After the attacks on the D.A., the surviving members had gone into hiding, and it had taken over a day to regain contact with everyone. Moody had returned with the two Creevey brothers in tow after being gone more than an hour, but the brothers' parents and younger sibling had been killed. Lavender Brown had been with Padma and Parvati Patil, and Lupin had found them and the rest of the Patil family in a gruesome scene. And Michael Corner, Ginny's ex-boyfriend, had been found with his family, Kissed by Dementors and arranged around their living room in a mockery of life.
Every day, Harry felt his hatred towards Voldemort grow.
"We can't bring them all to Grimmauld Place," Ron countered, "and their families? Remember Dumbledore when he found out about Amelia Bones?"
Ginny, Neville, and Luna winced, and Harry and Hermione just sighed. They had not been there when Dumbledore discovered Susan Bones had brought her aunt to the Burrow, but the others had described the shouting match that followed. None but Harry had ever seen Dumbledore lose his temper, and they were still in shock.
Even more so, because Amelia Bones had shouted back.
But the cat had been well and truly let out of the bag. Amelia Bones had seen the strange gathering at the Burrow – enough to figure out that the rumors she'd heard were true – and Dumbledore had bowed to reason and extended the invitation. They were just lucky that she saw the wisdom in keeping the secret from Cornelius Fudge.
"But," Ginny added, "speaking of Bones, the unplottable spells she put on the DA's safe houses? They should be all right."
"Except how many Death Eaters know how to get around those?" Neville asked quietly, and Harry closed his eyes again as Parvati Patil's face flashed before his eyes. "How many work in the Ministry?"
He'd been a horrible date to Parvati, back at the Yule Ball.
And how stupid was it, that that was his thought in that moment?
"That aside, this has all proven two things," Hermione continued. "One, they need to be better able to protect themselves."
"And two," Neville added, "if they're going to be any help protecting the school, they need to be better trained."
"But we still can't bring them to Grimmauld," Ron stated.
"And Bill won't extend the wards that much, so we can't bring them here," Harry muttered. "I can't even get him to let Hermione stay."
Hermione frowned at him. "I'm sure he would if I really needed to," she replied. Harry wasn't sure he agreed, but he didn't say anything. "But I'm happy enough where I am," the girl continued.
Luna looked up from where she was drawing hearts in the sand. "I have an idea," she said softly, and all eyes turned to her.
The Rookery
Ottery St Catchpole
Devon, England
July 30, 1996
Harry walked across the field and stood next to Luna, a slight smile on his face.
"This is a perfect spot," he said softly, and Luna grinned at him.
"I think so," she replied in her quiet sing-song. "And it's a wonderful place for the DA to practice, too," she added. Harry chuckled.
It was early, the sun just starting to peek over the horizon. As he watched, Ron and Hermione came out of the house, Ron gesturing as Hermione shook her head. The pair stopped on the stairs and Hermione stared out over the field stretched out before them, raising her wand and casting spells of towards the edges of the property. Harry watched as Ron muttered under his breath and started stalking over towards him.
Ron and Hermione would die for each other, Harry knew, but he wasn't sure they would ever be able to civilly disagree. With a rueful smile, he nodded to Ron as his best friend stopped beside him, huffing with frustration.
A few feet up the path to the main road, Neville and Ginny were setting up a perimeter under the watchful eyes of Bill and Shacklebolt. The first Portkeys were due in less than five minutes, and they wanted to be ready.
"Why didn't you tell us your dad had gone out of town?" Ron asked Luna suddenly, a slight frown on his face. "You've been here alone."
Luna shrugged gracefully, spinning her radish earrings with one hand. "My father goes on expeditions all the time," she explained. "I'm used to it."
"Not anymore," Bill corrected as he joined the teens, shooting Harry a wink. "Tonks owled your father, Luna. You'll be staying with her and Hermione for the rest of the summer."
Harry smiled. Now was not the time for one of their number to be staying alone. Especially Luna.
"I'm not sure what else we can do," Hermione said finally from behind them as Tonks banged her way out of the house, tripping down the front steps. "Did I miss anything?" she asked. Shacklebolt was already shaking his head, and Lupin tore his gaze away from Tonks to smile at the girl.
"I'll add a couple more around the walkway once everyone is here," Bill said lightly. "But overall, I'd say we're pretty secure."
Moody snorted. "We're sitting ducks," the ex-Auror growled, and Ginny and Neville glanced at each other and rolled their eyes. Harry bit back a grin.
From the edge of the trees, a sudden flash of light glinted, and Harry smiled sadly as he saw Hannah Abbott and Sue Bones emerge from the clearing, the Creevey brothers, Ernie MacMillan, and Justin Finch-Fletchley right behind them. Hannah's face was set in a blank mask, and she was looking around herself with a disinterested gaze. A few feet away, there was another flash, and Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan appeared – the last of their Gryffindor year-mates.
Several minutes later, Harry, Ron, and Hermione stepped forward as their classmates gathered in a half-circle formation before them.
"Hi everybody," Ron said cheerfully. "Welcome to the first session of D.A. Summer Bootcamp."
Ministry of Magic
London, England
July 30, 1996
Cornelius stood from behind his opulent desk, gesturing wildly with his lime green bowler hat. "Rufus! Pius!" he exclaimed. "Come in, come in." With a dismissive nod to Clearwater – delightful girl, he thought absently, such a shame – the door shut behind his secretary, and he ushered the two men into armchairs near the fireplace. As his guests sat, he joined them in his favorite chair, leaning back to take stock of their reactions.
Cornelius Fudge was a man who loved the finer things. From his marble-topped desk to his leather wing-back chairs and carved stone fireplace, every item in his office had been painstakingly chosen to create exactly the sort of image he craved. He learned a lot from how visitors reacted to this room. Rufus, as always, completely ignored the surroundings, not even a flicker of his eyelids to show the slightest interest.
Pius, on the other hand, looked around the room approvingly, his mouth quirking in a smile as his eyes lingered on the portrait of Fudge's great-grandfather.
And Albus had insisted he should take the portrait down. Fudge scoffed to himself, shaking his head slightly, then turned his attention back to the matter at hand.
"Thank you both for meeting with me so quickly," he said jovially. "Rufus, I understand Amelia was called away on urgent business?"
Though really, Cornelius wasn't sure what could be more urgent than the Minister's summons, and their current predicament.
"Correct, Minister," the old lion said smoothly. "She has been unavailable for several days now. To my understanding, she will return tomorrow."
"Not the time for a vacation," Pius put in quietly, and Rufus's eyes flickered to the thin man for a moment before turning back to Fudge. He looked at the Minister calmly, and Fudge hesitated a moment before clearing his throat.
"Yes, yes," Fudge said officiously. "Well, Amelia is a very dedicated Head. I have no doubt she has good reasons. She is well?" he asked Rufus, suddenly a bit nervous. Pius was right – this really was not the time.
Rufus just inclined his head at the Minister's question, and Fudge sighed.
"Well, to business, then," Cornelius said heavily. "As you no doubt are aware, there have been many attacks in the past several days on the Muggle community. They have been almost exclusively Dementor attacks, but there was a bit of nastiness in Scotland with a werewolf or two. The Muggle Prime Minister has been demanding an audience, but to be frank, I'm not certain what to even tell him."
Pius smiled, his long fingers steepled under his chin. "I have several ideas."
Cornelius smiled genially on the outside, but on the inside, he breathed a sigh of relief.
Herne Bay, Kent
July 31, 1996
Thomas smiled as the large Georgian clock chimed midnight. He stood on the shore, his red eyes gleaming in the darkness, and watched the small, sleepy town before him with absolute glee.
His servants stood arrayed around him, the lot of them nearly vibrating with anticipation. Behind him, he could hear the crash of the waves along the beach, and the soft, stifled tones of the creatures that moved in the water.
This spot was one where he should have stood almost fifteen years before – his planned next stop after taking care of the Potters. The runes were still under the sand, dormant all this time, the trap still lying in wait.
He only hoped that the night would prove worth the delay.
Crouching carefully, Thomas brushed his fingers gently over the gleaming black stone that lay at his feet. With a whisper, he pressed his wand to the etched rune and watched as the glyph glowed a violent red in the darkness. The Dark Lord rose gracefully to his feet, his robes billowing around him, and stepped back.
The rune glowed brighter and brighter, a sharp hum starting to cut through the darkness, and Thomas smiled. The sound rose in pitch then finally reached a crescendo, and as the air around them grew colder, a beam of red fire shot from the stone, stretching out into the night to collide with another small stone, which shot a beam at another, then another…
Not a moment later, Thomas hovered at the center of a fiery pentagram, suspended in the air. He allowed himself a satisfied smile as he heard his Death Eaters begin to murmur in awe around him. He hadn't shown them such a display of power, of might, in quite some time.
Better, now, that they be reminded under whose protection they wished to be.
He floated there in the center of the flames, eyes closed, body still, then raised his arms to the sky, wand slashing in a violent arc. The flames shot down, scouring into the earth, digging trenches a hundred feet deep in the ground, all the way to the water's edge and off into the town.
He heard the screams begin in the small town, saw lights turning on as Muggles fled their homes while the ground caved under their feet. His Death Eaters began to laugh and Thomas smiled again, floating to the ground and stepping back with a nod.
And the ocean rushed by him, shooting through the new channels in defiance of gravity, merfolk and sirens streaming by with shouts of joy.
Thomas turned to Bellatrix, her rapturous eyes wide with wonder. "Go to Lucius," he said sharply. "Tell him to commence phase two."
The wild-eyed beauty nodded once, spinning on her heel and disappearing. Thomas stood quietly for a moment, watching as a nearby house went up in flames, as a small girl was pulled into the water by scaly green arms.
Happy birthday, Potter, he thought gleefully.
"Go!" he said suddenly, gesturing ahead of himself, and the dozen-odd Death Eaters arrayed on the beach hooted. "Enjoy yourselves!"
And lifting his wand to the sky, Voldemort whispered, "Morsmordre."
London Bridge
London, England
July 31, 1996
Kingsley was hungry, he was cold, and he was tired.
He'd been staking out the bridge for over five hours, after having spent more than fourteen on shift. Snape had told them something was going to happen at the bridge, but he didn't know what or where. Despite King's misgivings, the Order had been standing guard in the spot – and no matter what he thought of Snape at the moment, no matter his private fears, he wasn't so blasé about innocent lives that he would ignore a possible threat.
But between guarding and training Harry and his friends – and now helping train their entire army-club – the hunt for Podmore, the search for Lestrange, guarding their members' families, and normal operations, the Order was starting to be spread a bit thin.
If this were a genuine threat, there should be more than just him and Charlie Weasley on this bridge.
Kingsley sighed, pressing his fingers to his temples as he leaned against the rail, his eyes sweeping the surroundings. Even at just after midnight, the bridge was fairly crowded with traffic, both autos and people on foot. Traffic was at a stand-still, hundreds of cars stopped end to end and honking angrily at each other as something held up the line. The driver of the car straight ahead of him seemed especially agitated, but looking in the backseat at the two wailing infants, Kingsley could see why.
The city never slept, but right then, he wished it would. And he was sure the Muggle father did, too.
Someone jogged by, stopping just a couple feet away and crouching to tie their shoelace. Shack eyed the wiry man for a moment, then turned away when the man stood up and continued to jog away.
His mind wandered as he catalogued the faces around him, searching for someone familiar passing by. To himself, he could admit, if it turned out that Snape wasn't on their side – well, that would be fine by him.
Something about the sinister man didn't sit right with him. He knew, logically, he should be grateful to the man – his Potions, and most recently, his spellwork – had helped to keep Hermione alive thus far. And spying against a maniacal dark lord wasn't anyone's idea of fun, and Merlin knew, the man's information had helped save lives countless times.
But something just wasn't right there.
His fascination with Hermione Granger, to Shack's mind, bordered on obscene. There was something just off in the man's actions, in his voice, every time he was around the brilliant young girl, every time he spoke to her, of her… something was just off.
But when he mentioned it to Dora or Remus, they both just gave him a strange look.
And Hermione, blast the girl, seemed to have decided she trusted him.
Kingsley didn't like it.
No, he thought to himself, if I find out that he isn't – wait.
His eyes narrowed as a nearby jogger slowed to a stop, and Kingsley watched the man stop and place something small and rectangular on the ground. The man seemed to press a button then jog away, and as Kingsley watched, someone about fifteen feet down the bridge stopped and did the same.
He stood stock still, looking around himself as a dozen people all stepped back from the small objects they had placed and continued off jogging like nothing had happened. There were at least a hundred cars on the bridge still, and he could see children in many of them.
There was no way he could save them all if –
"Shack!" a voice shouted, and Kingsley heard a beeping sound begin near his feet. He looked down, his eyes landing on a small, rectangular clock that was counting down, fast.
He saw a flash of red hair as Charlie Weasley ran towards him, heard the beeping sound get louder and faster, and his eyes narrowed on the car in front of him. He raced forward fishing a small metal disc out of his pocket, and slammed the disc down on top of the car, jumping back as the family in the car started to scream. A loud rumbling sound began to echo around them, and the bridge shook beneath him –
"Portus!" he shouted, wand pointed at the car, and the automobile vanished into thin air. He turned to face Charlie, his wand still raised –
And the ground fell out from under his feet.
Lucius Malfoy stood on the banks of the River Thames, a cruel smile twisting his lips. The river was a raging torrent as chunks of metal and stone landed in the water. Bodies flew through the air, some screaming, some silent. Around him, lights were flaring up in every building as the city awoke to find their landmark destroyed.
He felt a stirring of inside him and chuckled quietly as another body hit the water with a splash. Not far away, a couple of limp forms had washed up on the banks, and Malfoy strode forward, his eyes fixed on the two figures.
Shacklebolt was a mess, he noted with satisfaction, burns all over the man's face and a huge gash running the length of his skull. Slivers of white bone were sticking out of his head and the man moaned piteously as the freezing river water lapped at his legs – likely several burns there as well, Lucius mused.
The redhead beside the Auror was a stocky, short man – the second Weasley son, he thought, Charles, wasn't it? Angry burns were coming to life all over his face and arms as well, but the man's robes seemed strangely intact. Lucius shrugged off the mystery, raising his wand as he stood over the two.
And Charlie Weasley opened his eyes, pushing to his feet.
Behind him, another section of bridge crumbled into the river.
~*~ALIBI