A/N: I lied. I am several chapters ahead now, so I decided to go ahead and put this one up. Thanks for sticking with me this far! The stage is now set, all of the vital characters for part one have been introduced, and the world is becoming darker. Time to actually tell the story now…

Gja03, I appreciated your review, but I was also giggling to myself when I read it, because this was already written. If you figure out why, I succeeded.

Reviews are like the sunrise on the beach, a beautiful addition to the day!

~*~ ALIBI

The Paths We Tread

Chapter 6:

The Stubbornness That Clings

Shell Cottage

Tinworth, Cornwall

August 11, 1996

Harry sat on the shore in the darkness, staring quietly at the waves. His feet were bare, his toes curled into the cool sand, and his always-wild hair stood up a bit more frightfully than normal. He closed his eyes, feeling the salty breeze across his face, and smiled.

He liked it there.

He liked living at the cottage, the simple peace of the place. He liked all the open space and the small, airy room where he slept, the comfy living room with all of its squashy chairs and couches. He liked being able to retreat there when things got too serious, liked starting his day sitting on the beach, liked the easy calm Bill seemed to emanate –

What did it say about him, he wondered, that the summer had actually been the best of his life?

The sun was starting to creep over the horizon, and Harry let out a sigh, leaning back on his hands. He supposed it made him rather selfish, with all that was happening, but it was true. The cottage was peaceful and homey without being stifling, his friends could come and go, and Bill –

The eldest Weasley son was nothing if not attentive.

From the beginning of the summer, when he first turned up on Privet Drive and whisked Harry away to the shore, to every lesson they'd held with and without Dumbledore, to dinner on the way back to Privet Drive nearly every time – from the moment Bill Weasley had stepped onto the scene in Harry's life, things had started to drastically change.

And living at Shell Cottage was unreal. He had clothes that fit – that actually fit. Bill and Charlie and the twins kept giving him little things to put in his room, to decorate or organize with. He could see or speak with Ron, Hermione, Luna, Ginny and Neville whenever he wanted, for the most part. He ate three times a day – even when he didn't want to.

No one yelled at him for waking them up with a nightmare. Quite the contrary, he'd woken several times to find Bill sitting on the edge of his bed, a hand on Harry's shoulder and a look of worry in his eyes.

The sky grew lighter as the sun rose in the sky, and the air around him warmed as a mist sprang up from the shore. Harry let out a contented sigh, lying back on the sand fully.

And that wasn't even taking into account all of the talking.

Oh, Bill was subtle about it. He was considerate of Harry's feelings, not demanding a play-by-play or grilling the teen. No, he treated it more as a trade-off. He'd weasel a little detail out of Harry about his childhood or his adventures in school, then tell Harry some wild tale from one of his jobs.

Not that Harry didn't notice the way Bill would react to his childhood stories. The cursebreaker kept a level head, but Harry always saw the spark of rage or dismay in the older man's eyes. He frequently found himself downplaying events, or even aging himself up – honestly, the way Bill had reacted to the idea of Petunia swinging a skillet at his head when he was eight?

Harry was pretty sure the man would have dug her out of the ground and killed her all over again, had Harry told him he was really four at that point.

Bill Weasley was also, he thought sadly, extremely protective.

It was nice, having someone act that way towards him. Oh, his friends were always in his corner, he knew that, but he'd never had an adult – not even Sirius – care so much, about him, for him. Never had someone listen, and act like what he had been through actually mattered.

It was nice.

He just hoped Bill would let him do what he had to do, when the time came. Because no matter what, he was the one fated to face Voldemort. He was the one who would have to kill the monster, or die trying.

And die trying, more likely, he thought dimly. Harry was many things, but stupid wasn't one of them. He would never give up, but he was almost one hundred percent certain he wasn't going to survive the war.

The sand shifted beside him and he felt a hand slip into his as Luna settled on the shore beside him.

"Thinking like that will get you nowhere," she murmured softly, and Harry sighed.

"Good morning to you, too," he said shortly, turning to face the Ravenclaw, and Luna smiled at him sleepily.

"Hello."

This had fast become their ritual. Every morning, not thirty minutes after Harry woke, Luna joined him on the beach, and the two sat there and watched the sun rise. Most of the time, they didn't speak. But some mornings –

"You aren't a villain for being happy," Luna said quietly, and Harry let out another sigh. "Being relieved that your personal circumstances have improved doesn't mean you're happy so many people have suffered or died. It just means you're getting stronger."

Harry scoffed. "I don't feel stronger," he whispered, and Luna squeezed his hand. The tiny girl scooted across the sand, laying her head on Harry's shoulder, and Harry obediently raised one arm and wrapped it around the girl.

He wasn't really sure why she insisted on sitting like this, but he minded it a little less every morning.

"You are getting stronger," Luna whispered back. "And kinder, and wiser. It comes with age – and a good support system. And the disappearance of the Nargles."

"Maybe," Harry said quietly. He craned his head back and looked behind them at the cottage. A light had come on in the kitchen – probably Bill, making Fleur some coffee before he snuck her out of the house. Harry snorted to himself in amusement – why the man insisted on pretending Fleur wasn't spending the night, he would never understand.

A shadow crossed over one of the windows, and he hurriedly turned his gaze back to the waves. Bill was standing in the kitchen window, watching them on the beach. He felt the weight of being watched disappear after a few moments, and let out another tired sigh.

"I'm just tired of losing everyone I care about," he admitted after a long silence, and he felt Luna tense.

"Not everyone," she said back, steel entering her voice, and Harry stayed silent, biting his lip. He raised one hand in the growing light and brushed it against the edge of Luna's hair, playing idly with the long blonde strands.

"I won't let it be everyone," he whispered.

The Burrow

Ottery St. Catchpole

Devon, England

It had been a long time since he'd seen his parents' yard so crowded.

Bill sat quietly atop a worn picnic table, Fleur seated on the bench next to his knee. The part-Veela was leaning heavily on his leg, her eyes closed as she sighed softly, and Bill smiled as he threaded his fingers through her hair.

She'd been tired quite a bit lately. He hoped she wasn't getting ill.

She sighed again in her sleep, scooting closer so her head was pillowed in his lap, and Bill shifted slightly to balance her weight better. The beautiful girl slept on, and Bill felt himself fall just a little further.

I'm never shaking this one, he thought to himself ruefully, a crooked smile on his face.

The small glowing fairy in the bushes nearby buzzed closer, and Bill shot the creature a quelling look. He'd already checked – it wasn't an Animagus, nor a trap of any kind, was in fact exactly what it seemed, and it didn't seem to be controlled by anyone. But still, he wished it would go away. He felt like he was being watched.

Looking out over the expanse of fields, he felt his smile waver slightly. The yard was overflowing with Order members, witches and wizards all gathered around food, drink, and silly party games. Even Dumbledore was there, his lurid orange and lime green robes practically an affront to the eye. The elderly Headmaster stood facing Bill, his face twisted in a brilliant smile, as he listened to Fred tell some wild tale, the prankster's hands gesturing erratically as he spoke.

It was an odd way to be spending a Sunday, after all that had happened over the past several weeks. But his mum had put her foot down, insisting that everyone needed to have some fun, to 'take a breather and remember what we're fighting for.'

And what Molly Weasley demanded, Molly Weasley usually got.

The table shook as Tonks flung herself down beside him, and Fleur groaned in her sleep, a frown creasing her face. Bill shot Tonks a glare as he reached down and cupped his free hand around the back of Fleur's neck, rubbing lightly at the curve of her shoulder. The blonde woman let out another happy sigh and quieted, and Bill looked up to see Tonks watching them with a sad look on her face. A few feet away, Shacklebolt settled himself into a lotus position on the grass, his hands resting on his knees.

"You could try talking to him," Bill said quietly, and Tonks scowled as Charlie thunked down on the bench beside Fleur. Without missing a beat, his brother reached around and picked Fleur's feet up off the ground, spinning her slightly so her legs were across his lap.

Bill gave his brother a look and Charlie grinned at him innocently. "What?" the dragonkeeper asked with a chuckle, "she was slipping."

Bill shook his head, rolling his eyes at his brother – whose hands, he noticed, were politely resting on the bench next to him – and turned his attention back to Tonks.

The metamorphmagus was ignoring them all, her eyes fixed on the shabbily-dressed man standing across the grass, talking quietly with Bill's father.

"I've tried," she said despondently, her hair shifting from bright pink to a mousy brown. "He doesn't listen, he barely even looks at me unless something is wrong."

"He thinks he's too old for you," Charlie said around a mouthful of jerky, and Bill wrinkled his nose at his brother's manners.

"And maybe he has a point," Bill said quietly, "he's got 13 years on you, Dora, and – "

"And I don't care," she said stubbornly, and Charlie shook his head.

"Hell, I told you, Dora," the dragonkeeper said with a grin, waggling his eyebrows, "I'll take you out for a spin anytime, just say the – "

"Eew," Tonks said flatly, and Bill reached out and shoved his brother's shoulder. "You're like my brother, you great berk."

Charlie just laughed. "Just trying to be helpful!"

Bill tuned them out as Tonks started to reply, his eyes drifting over the people in the yard. Amelia Bones had just arrived, Susan and Hannah in tow – along with Hannah's baby sister and the Creevy brothers. Hermione and Ginny had peeled off from near the house and headed straight for the other two girls, Ginny handing Sue a drink as Hermione crouched over Hannah's sleeping sister, cooing at the child. As he watched, Hannah passed the child over to Hermione, and the two girls moved over to a nearby hammock, settling in quietly. The Creevy brothers bee-lined across the yard to where Neville and Ron stood near the pond, and…

He finally found Harry, standing in the shadowed edges nearest the kitchen door, a strangely solemn look on his face. He started to move, shifting Fleur carefully with the intent of passing her over to rest with Charlie –

And Luna appeared out of nowhere, the girl slipping through the crowd and making her way towards Harry. Bill felt a hand on his arm and he started, looking down to see Fleur smiling at him gently.

"Let 'er," the Frenchwoman said softly, and Bill nodded, settling back down on the tabletop. Fleur let out another happy sigh and laid her head back down. With an imperious glare at his brother, she wiggled her toes demandingly, and Charlie just laughed, shooting Bill a look, then pulled off the woman's sandals and started rubbing her feet.

Bill bit back a laugh, and exchanged an amused look with Tonks as the Auror bumped his shoulder with a grin. Fleur could certainly command a room.

But the lighthearted mood was broken as the shabby man across the way turned towards them, and Bill watched as Tonks went stiff, her hair changing to a solid black. He squeezed her shoulder lightly and looked over at Lupin, nodding at the man. Behind the ex-professor, his father stood in the shade, watching Bill sadly. Bill met his father's gaze for a moment, then turned away.

"You're going to have to talk to him eventually," Charlie pointed out quietly.

"I know."

"I don't know why you're still shutting out just him, anyway," Charlie continued, as Tonks and Fleur exchanged an uncomfortable look. Fleur pulled her feet carefully out of Charlie's hands, pushing herself into a sitting position, and she slipped away towards Viktor, who had just appeared near the corner of the house.

"I know," Bill replied, a little more edge in his voice this time, as Lupin drew close enough to hear.

"I mean, he's not the only one who left him there," Charlie pointed out in a maddeningly reasonable tone. "Why don't you stop talking to Dumbledore, and McGonagall, and Hagrid, and Lupin…"

Lupin himself flinched, drawing in a sharp breath as he reached the group, quickly deducing the subject. "He has a point," the lycanthrope said quietly, "it doesn't really matter my reasons, I did run out."

"Yes, well, you tend to do that," Bill said uncharitably, Tonks' abrupt change of mood at the front of his mind. He shook his head and scowled as the older man shifted uncomfortably, enough of a peacekeeper that he wouldn't even defend himself.

Bill sighed. He would have to apologize for that. Especially as Tonks had stiffened even worse beside him. That didn't help, Bill, he thought at himself angrily. Stop being a twit.

"What troubles you, Remus?" Charlie asked instead, and Bill raised an eyebrow as the man's gaze hardened.

"We need to talk about Hermione and – "

"Snape," said Bill and Tonks at the same time. He felt, more than heard, Shacklebolt tense – the man had gone cold and angry, as if the very mention of the Potions Master's name were enough to set off his temper. The burly Auror pushed to his feet and joined them, Lupin sitting at the edge of one bench as Shack walked around to settle on Bill's other side.

"He's not here, at least," Charlie breathed, a relieved look on his face, and Tonks snorted.

"Him? Spend time with us willingly?" She chuckled. "Please."

"I'm not complaining," Shacklebolt said in his usual quiet boom, and Lupin frowned.

"Not to interrupt this Snape-bashing session," the man said softly, and with a slight smile, Bill noticed that only Tonks had the grace to look ashamed. "But I feel like this is a serious matter."

Bill nodded thoughtfully. "The way they are acting around each other is alarming," he agreed. "At the meeting the other night, she seemed almost flushed every time she so much as glanced at him."

"And considering he has such control over her treatments, and how much time they spend together as a consequence of that," Lupin added, "I find it worrisome."

"I ran into them at Hogwarts the other day, and he was standing far too close to her," Tonks said with a scowl. "She looked uncomfortable, and – " Her voice trailed off, and Bill and Lupin both turned to her with an expectant look. Tonks cleared her throat, then shot Shack an apologetic glance, "He made a comment about you, Kings. That your affection for her was improper. Right in front of her."

The Auror let out a quiet growl. "Tonks," he said urgently, flexing his fingers as his dark face paled, "you know I would never – "

"I know, Kings," Tonks said gently, but Lupin was looking at the man thoughtfully.

"Severus has always been gifted at emotional manipulation," Lupin replied. "It's how he's survived so long as a spy in Voldemort's ranks."

"If he's really a spy," Charlie said bitterly, and Bill and Lupin shook their heads in tandem.

"I don't think he's genuinely working for Voldemort," Shacklebolt said shortly, sounding as though the words pained him.

Tonks scowled. Turning to the lycanthrope, she asked with a bit of sting in her voice, "And what do you think? You've known him longest of all of us."

Lupin smiled ruefully, stretching his legs out in front of him. "You remember Pettigrew got by me, right?" he asked with a shake of his head. A shout echoed from near the pond, and as one, the group spun around, all of them drawing their wands –

Only to stare bemusedly as they saw Ginny standing on the shore, hands on her hips as she yelled at the twins, who were standing in the water with Neville, laughing hysterically.

Charlie shot a grin at Bill as they all chuckled, sitting down and letting out a shaky breath.

Maybe his mum was right. They were all a bit wound.

"I don't know," Lupin continued as though he'd never been interrupted. "To be honest, I don't believe he truly devotes himself to anything. But I don't think he's working for Voldemort, not faithfully."

"I think, " Bill started, then stopped himself, shaking his head. "I think whether he is faithful to the Order or not, working for our side doesn't automatically make him a good man. And I think he's dangerous."

"We're all dangerous," Charlie said with a bit of a smirk, and Bill shot him a serious look.

"Not like that."

"Maybe we should just talk to her," Lupin said quietly, his gaze resting on the curly-haired teen who was now sitting alone in the hammock.

"If Snape has done something to her," Shack asked hesitantly, "would she necessarily remember?"

"She has a strong mind, and a strong will," Bill replied, his hand idly playing with his dragon tooth earring. Tonks scoffed beside him, and Bill's gaze followed the fairy that had reappeared near the bush. It was gathering berries, he noticed – or trying, as the berry it was plucking was nearly its size. He leaned over and grabbed a smaller berry off the bush, pinching it in half and offering it to the fairy, and the small creature glowed brighter and buzzed happily, zipping back into the shrubbery.

"Plenty of abused women are strong," Tonks said angrily. "It doesn't always save them."

Bill swallowed as the image of a dusty tunnel rose up in his mind, the metallic tang of blood in the air. He closed his eyes, shaking Charlie off as he felt his brother clap a hand to his shoulder. Opening his eyes, he saw Shack watching him thoughtfully, but Tonks and Lupin seemed not to have noticed his distraction.

"Talking to her is still the first step," the older man said gently. A slight smile grew on his face as he looked out across the yard, and Bill followed his gaze. Ron and Harry had appeared from different sides of the yard, both of them honing in on Hermione like beacons. As he watched, his brother flung himself into the hammock beside Hermione, nearly toppling them over, and Harry reached out and steadied them before climbing in on Hermione's other side.

Shack let out a chuckle, his brilliant white teeth glinting. "If nothing else, Bill, you can at least try to get a sense of what's going on. I don't think her Occlumency is that well developed yet."

"That's an invasion of privacy," Lupin said quietly.

"A necessary one," Tonks argued back, and the lycanthrope fell silent with a frown. "It'll have to be another day though," she continued. "He won't have another treatment with her for three days, so we have some time. But... don't you have to go check on that project, Bill?"

Bill scowled at the thought of his project, and hopped down off the tabletop. "Right," he said as Lupin looked at him curiously, "it'll be a couple days before I can do much else."

Tonks nodded, and Lupin coughed abruptly. "Well, I have some research I can be doing, then," the older man said hurriedly, and Tonks' face fell slightly. "I'll see you all another time."

"I'll join you, if you don't mind," Shacklebolt said as he stood slowly, wincing as his legs stretched. "Merlin knows you're brighter than me, but still."

"I don't know about that," Lupin argued graciously as he nodded, and the pair crossed the yard without another word.

"Right," Bill said again, rubbing a hand across his face. "Charlie, let everyone know I had to leave for work? Tonks – "

The metamorph let out a laugh, and tore her gaze away from where Lupin had just disappeared. "I'll keep an eye on things," she said lightly, and Bill nodded and walked away.

"Honestly, Ron," Hermione muttered waspishly, "you're all elbows." She reached up and pressed on her pendant with a scowl, her fingers shaking slightly as she moved her hand.

The redhead grinned at her from her left, shifting up slightly in the hammock so Hermione could sit more comfortably. His arm fell across her shoulder and the curly-haired witch ended up tucked into his side, her head resting on his shoulder. Hermione sighed comfortably, then let out a squeak as Harry climbed in beside them, immediately sandwiching her between the two boys. Harry shot her an innocent grin as he stretched out so his arms were above his head, and Hermione huffed, then put her hand on his arm, closing her eyes as the breeze kicked up around them.

She and Luna and Ginny had been making a real effort to hug Harry more, and it get him used to positive physical contact. Apparently, he was adjusting. If not for the burning sensation in her veins, Hermione would say that the day was just about perfect.

"This is," the boy in question said quietly, "a weirdly peaceful day."

Ron grunted in agreement, and Hermione craned her neck to see the tall boy's eyes closed, his free hand rubbing his eyes. "It's a nice break," he agreed. "Mum had the right idea."

"Everybody's relaxing," Hermione murmured quietly. "And Hannah is even letting people help with the baby."

"I can't believe she's really going to raise that kid by herself," Ron said incredulously, and Harry shook his head.

"Wouldn't you?" he asked. "If everyone was gone and it was just you and Ginny left, wouldn't you take her in?"

"Ginny doesn't tend to need much help these days," Ron snorted, then let out a tired sigh. "Merlin, how do we always end up on depressing things?"

Harry chuckled, and Hermione closed her eyes.

You should tell them, her mind whispered.

Don't, another voice sounded, this one dark and biting, don't put that burden on them.

It was odd, how much her subconscious was starting to sound like Snape. Clearly, she was spending far too much time with the man.

"It's nice, being able to spend time together like this," she said instead. "I know we see each other for training every day, but how much do we get to hang out anymore, just the three of us?"

Harry nodded thoughtfully. "We'll need to make sure we set aside time when we're back in classes," he said softly. "I'm glad Gin and Neville and Luna are part of the team now – "

"Especially Luna," Hermione said teasingly, and Harry shot her a poisonous look.

"But you two are my best mates."

Ron grinned, and Hermione smiled softly, scooting over to put her head on Harry's shoulder instead. The tall redhead sat up in the hammock slightly, turning on his side so he was hugging Hermione from behind, and flung one hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry grimaced, shoving Ron off of him, and the youngest Weasley son laughed merrily.

"It's kicked in now," Hermione said quietly, and both boys' expressions turned serious.

"That time-delay privacy spell is a brilliant piece of work," Ron said with amazement. "Where did you come up with that?"

Hermione grinned. "I found a couple books in Bill's living room, and I borrowed them," she said coyly, and Ron snorted.

"Book thief," he muttered. "And you were always such a goody two-shoes."

Harry shook his head with a grin, then his eyes darkened. "How long til this times out, Hermione?"

"We have maybe fifteen minutes," the curly-haired witch replied, "I'll feel it dissipate."

"So, debrief," Harry said sharply. "I'll go first. Viktor heard from his man, he's in. They are in some manor in the Alps, training. Either the guy doesn't know where, or he literally can't say."

"Any description of the surroundings?" Hermione asked, her brow furrowed, and Harry shook his head.

"Not much," he replied. "I'll show you the letter when we finish training tomorrow morning, see if you can suss anything out. Also, no progress on figuring out what Mr. Weasley and Brand did to me. Every reference book I've been able to find that talks about a 'taint' only mentions detecting it, not removing it. And," he scowled, "the books we recovered from the Chamber are probably going to take me at least a decade to copy."

Ron let out a heavy sigh. "As for my dad and Brand," he said shortly, "since you've said you feel healthier and stronger since then, I'd say it was probably a good thing. But we should still find out exactly what they did, so we can watch for side-effects. Bill isn't saying?"

Harry shook his head. "I'm not sure Bill knows exactly what they did yet, either," he said ruefully, and Hermione patted his hand.

"The maps in the books," Hermione cut in immediately, "do you recognize anything?"

A sudden shriek echoed across the lawn, and they whipped around to find Sue had joined Ginny on the pond's edge, both of them now yelling at Hannah and the twins as they splashed around in the water.

"No," Harry replied as they all relaxed back into the hammock. "It looks like one is somewhere in Scotland, maybe? But I couldn't tell."

"Well, we'll just have to go through what you've managed to translate so far, and see if anything makes sense," Ron said reasonably. "My turn. I've been able to recognize some spells and places in the memories. It looks like one of them might be a safe house."

Hermione spun to stare at him as Harry's jaw dropped. "Are you sure?" Harry asked, and Ron grimaced, his eyes shadowed.

"It was definitely Rosier's bolt-house at one point," the redhead said, swallowing harshly. "And he had supplies and books there. But Harry – "

"Rosier has been dead for almost twenty years," Hermione finished. "There's no guarantee anything is still there."

"It's worth checking out, at least," Harry said urgently. "Can you get an anonymous tip to the Order?"

Hermione frowned lightly. She understood Harry's concerns about Ron's memory-visions. She knew he was afraid some members of the Order would misuse him, if they realized he was slowly and systematically seeing Evan Rosier's every memory.

But she still thought some of them could be trusted, and she was frankly shocked that he wouldn't even agree to tell Bill.

"I'll send it off from Brighton this time," Ron agreed, "I know a place I could Floo to undetected. And I've already diagrammed the spells for you, Hermione."

"Which leaves – your turn," Harry smiled slightly at Hermione, and the girl winced.

"Not much to report," she said quietly. "Every ritual or potion I've checked into so far… Harry, the consequences are too great. If they work at all."

"Like what?" Harry asked as Ron frowned.

"Like overloading your core and killing you," she said, and Harry opened his mouth to speak, his jaw set. "Or like twisting you, and turning you into something like him."

Harry subsided with a scowl, throwing himself back in the hammock. "Just keep looking," he muttered.

"Well," she said hesitantly, "there is one thing I found which might work."

"Are you serious?" Harry asked with a relieved laugh, "What, Hermione?"

She let out a shaky breath, then met his eyes, "It's a power sharing ritual," she explained quietly. "It would allow Ron and I – and whoever else joins – to send you our powers, so that you can do what you need to do."

Silence echoed around them, and Hermione felt the privacy spell start to flicker. Harry just stared at her. "And what would that do to you?" He asked quietly.

Hermione swallowed slightly as the air around them grew charged. "Well – "

But Harry was already shaking his head, an angry scowl twisting his features. "I've heard enough," he said harshly. "That's not happening."

And without another word, Harry jumped up and stalked away from the hammock, leaving them swinging wildly. Hermione tumbled off-balance and she felt an arm around her as Ron held her steady. The burning in her veins suddenly increased, and she let out a chocked breath as she struggled to calm herself –

The hammock swayed again as Ron climbed down from behind her, and he walked around to face hermione, holding out a hand to help her down. The youngest Weasley son was watching her with a sad look, his eyes dark and shadowed. As her feet touched the ground, Ron wrapped her in a hug.

"Whatever it takes, yeah?" he whispered gruffly as he let her go, and Hermione nodded, meeting his eyes.

"Whatever it takes."

Weasley's Wizard Wheezes

Diagon Alley

London, England

August 12, 1996

Fred stepped back with a satisfied nod, his eyes skimming over the walls. The tricks his eldest brother had taught him were definitely going to be interesting to see in action.

He slipped his wand back into the arm holster his dad had given him, then locked the cash register, moving back around the counter. George was already there, and if he didn't hurry, he was going to be late.

Fred locked the shop behind himself and set off to the Leaky, nodding to Tom as he disappeared up the stairs. Stopping on the top step, he winced. He could hear the ruckus from outside the room.

But Fred Weasley was nothing if not a master of chaos. So he took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and entered the room.

"Okay, everybody!" he shouted immediately, and the volume died down as everyone spun to stare at him. From a table near the front, he saw George shoot him a grateful look, and he grinned winningly at the crowd. "Thanks for waiting for me, the party can start now!"

A few weak chuckles sounded, and Fred nodded as he moved across the room to stand next to his twin. He took in the curious gaze of Florean Fortescue, the indulgent gaze of Madam Malkin, and the piercing stare of Garrick Ollivander as he looked around the room.

"Judging by the decibels," Fred said shortly, "I'm guessing my handsome twin has already told you why we asked for this meeting?"

Mr. Blott snorted, the man's purple top hat shaking as he shook his head. "You expect us to fight?" he said incredulously. "We are shopkeepers, not soldiers!"

Murmurs broke out in the crowd, and Fred frowned. "No one said anything about fighting," he said immediately. Turning slightly to his side, he asked George quietly, "Did you say anything about fighting?" George immediately shook his head no, and Fred nodded calmly. "RIGHT THEN!" he shouted, as several of the shopkeepers burst into shouts again. "No one said you have to fight!" he continued heatedly. "But surely, we can all admit that this war is not good for the Alley, for the safety of its patrons, or for business, yeah?"

"All of us?" a smooth voice asked, and Fred turned to see Edgar Borgin looming near the doorway. The man stood with his arms crossed, his wand dangling from his fingertips and a slight smile on his face. His oily hair was hanging down in front of his eyes, but he looked at Fred calmly.

"Who let you in here?" Fred demanded, then he spun slightly and looked down at George, who looked just as nonplussed. "Who let him in here?" He asked George with a hiss, and his brother shrugged helplessly, holding his hands up before him. "Right," Fred said sharply, turning back to Borgin. "This is a meeting for the Diagon Alley shopkeepers, and slimy Knockturn crooks need not apply. You can see yourself out." He pointed to the door, and the murmurs sprang up again.

"I've been here longer than you've been alive, boy," Borgin said simply. "You think you can waltz in here and start making demands after just a couple months?"

Fred felt his face heat, the tips of his ears going red, and he opened his mouth to retort. Before he could say a word, Fortescue got to his feet swiftly, moving so he was standing between Fred and Borgin.

"You're not welcome here, Edgar," the kindly ice cream man said sternly. "Please go."

Borgin looked between Fred and Fortescue for a moment, smirked, then turned on his heel. The door slammed behind him, and Fred let out a relieved breath.

The meeting devolved into shouting twice more before they had finally worked out a plan and a rotation. Fred and George watched as the last of the shopkeepers slipped out the door, then threw themselves back into their chairs with a groan.

"That went well," George said tiredly, and Fred huffed at him in astonishment,

"Did you see – "

"Yeah," George replied.

Fred frowned worriedly. "I hope we – "

" – gave them enough time."

Fred and George looked at each other silently. Only half of their mission had really been accomplished, after all.

Garrick Ollivander had left the meeting ten minutes earlier.

Ollivander's

Diagon Alley

London, England

"We have to hurry!" Charlie hissed, glancing worriedly at the door as his brother pored over the storage room.

Bill just grunted at him, not even looking up. The cursebreaker was standing in the middle of some weird, glowing blue circle with arms sticking out of it, balls of light disappearing through the walls as he watched. The little spheres moved through the walls, then back over boxes on the shelves, changing colors as they hovered over certain ones. Bill reached out and snatched up each box that had a red glowing orb over it, casting a spell towards the ones over which the orb was green. The pile of boxes in the bag at his feet was getting ridiculous.

Charlie was sure what his brother was doing was for a good cause, but he was still standing in the doorway of Ollivander's, acting as a lookout as Bill basically robbed the man blind. And Bill was taking wands.

And books, Charlie added, glancing over at the strange glowing creature Bill had conjured, which was systematically shoving tomes into another bag. As he watched, Bill looked up and turned to the glowing thing – honestly, it looked like a damn yeti – and practically barked at the creature, "We don't need that one, take the next one! That has the passage we – "

"What the fuck are you doing, reading the damn things with your mind?" Charlie asked sharply, and Bill nodded.

"Yes," his brother said simply, then flicked his wand again. The yeti-like creature vanished and its bag flew across the room to land at Bill's feet. As Charlie watched, Bill looked down at the bag then traced his wand in a figure-eight above it, and the same books that had disappeared from the shelves only a moment before, reappeared, transparent, then shimmered back into view in their original places.

But the bag was still full. Charlie looked at the bag, then his brother, then the shelves, then said, simply, "Huh?"

"I need these," Bill replied, and Charlie scoffed.

"I get that, so why are you putting them back?"

Bill shot him his regular why are you like this look, and Charlie bit back a swear. He was a smart man, dammit. He'd done well in school without even trying. He read books, on purpose even.

And around his eldest brother, half the time, he felt as dumb as a box of rocks.

"They're copies," he said simply. "I don't want anyone to know we were here."

"But if they're so important," Charlie asked, "shouldn't we be making sure the Volde-snort and the Death Squad don't get their paws on them?"

Bill glanced at him with an amused grin. "If someone with a Dark Mark touches them, they'll incinerate."

Charlie stared. "You can do that?"

"Yes," Bill said simply again.

"Why don't you just put that spell on the kids?"

Here, Bill paused, his eyes shadowing. Charlie watched him carefully, and finally, Bill said quietly, "It does bad things to living creatures."

Charlie swallowed, feeling like a berk. "Right. Never mind. But what is that thing, anyway?"

He gestured towards the circle Bill was standing in, and Bill grinned lightly. "It masks my magical signature," he replied, "even if someone figures out we were here somehow, they won't be able to see me. Not with any spells or potions or traces. Not unless they know the counter to this exact spell."

Charlie stared at his brother again, looking hurriedly over his shoulder before he hissed, "So what about me?"

"Look up," Bill said wryly, and Charlie glanced up to see a strange circle swirling on the ceiling above him, the tendril-like arms dangling towards him. He jumped back in horror as one of the arms swung his way, and let out a gasp.

Bill laughed out loud.

A sudden tinkling sounded through the room, and Bill whipped around to stare at the strange, glowing rectangular pane he had slapped up on the wall as soon as they had walked in. He pointed his wand at the pane and a view of the outside of the shop appeared – showing Ollivander walking towards the doors.

"Time to go!" he said cheerfully, and with a wave of his wand, the last marked boxes slipped into his bag, and the shimmering copies slammed more quickly into place. The shelves creaked slightly and Charlie winced, standing stock still as he willed for himself not to be seen. He closed his eyes as tight as he could –

And opened them to see Bill standing there, looking at him patiently. The yeti-like creature has reappeared at his feet.

"Let's go," he said simply, then turned and moved towards the back door. "Clean up, boy!" he hissed, and the yeti wagged its backend like a damn dog, its tongue hanging out as it moved through the room, leaving a glowing white spell trail behind itself. As Charlie watched, a strand of Bill's long hair that had landed on the floor just vanished under the yeti's hand. The large bags spun through the air and shrank as they flew, disappearing into Bill's robe pockets.

Charlie darted after his brother, feeling a spell tendril brush his face from the strange circular thing above his head, and he shuddered at the slimy, tentacle-like feeling. The door swung open silently just as he heard the front door chime, and as he stepped out the door hurriedly, Bill paused in the doorway.

"Come on!" he hissed, but Bill was looking off to his left, his eyes narrowed. As Charlie stood there, holding his breath, Bill stepped back into the shop, his eyes on some jewel on a purple pillow. Bill reached out and gingerly picked up the jewel, sliding it into his pocket, then turned and went out the door.

The yeti followed them out, and the back door settled shut behind them just as Charlie heard the inside door from the shop open. He let out a shaky breath, and Bill clapped him on the shoulder and headed off down the Alley as he laughed. The yeti trailed them for a moment as Charlie struggled to catch his breath, then disappeared.

Charlie chanced a glance up, letting out a relieved sigh as he realized the creepy purple tentacle thing was no longer hovering over him.

"Why," he asked heatedly, "did I have to be a lookout if you could see someone coming?"

Bill looked at him with confusion, his brow furrowed. "You wanted to help," he replied calmly, turning towards Fortescue's and whistling under his breath.

Charlie stared at him. "I wanted to go meet up with Gwenog and get shagged," he said angrily. "I thought you needed – "

"Honestly," Bill cut him off as he settled at a table behind the ice cream shop. "You don't need to act like a jackass, Chuck, it's just me."

"I am a jackass!" Charlie shouted back, and Bill stared at him before bursting out laughing.

"I'm sorry," his older brother replied, chuckling. "But you wanted to help, and there wasn't really any way you could."

"I don't like it," Charlie grumbled. He glared at his brother, eyes narrowed. "I helped you steal."

Bill shrugged. "You didn't, really," he pointed out. "You kind of just stood there while I did it."

"That defense always works in court," Charlie huffed, and Bill grinned again.

"Really, Charlie, do you even understand what my job is?"

Charlie sighed, shaking his head. "Did you at least get what you were looking for?"

Fortescue bustled over at that exact moment, clapping a hand on Bill's shoulder with a smile, and Bill talked to him quietly for a moment as Charlie zoned out. A few minutes later, the man disappeared, and Bill turned back to his younger brother.

"And then some," Bill said easily. "Everything I need to figure out the puzzle, plus some extras."

"At least one shiny 'extra,'" Charlie muttered. "Did you even need that?"

Bill grinned. "I don't know," he admitted. "But I'll find out."

"Can't believe you're acting like some common thief," the dragonkeeper muttered, scowling again.

Fortescue reappeared just then, two dishes and a small bag in his hands. He set the bag at Bill's elbow with another clap on his shoulder, then handed a Charlie one dish, and Bill the other.

"But Charlie," Bill said with an unrepentant grin, "I am a thief."

Charlie thought about griping some more, but his brother had bought him peanut butter and banana ice cream, so he shut up and ate.

But as Bill sat across from him, practically vibrating with a gleeful energy, it occurred to Charlie that maybe he really didn't understand his brother's job.

Shell Cottage

Tinworth, Cornwall

"It didn't work, Harry," Hermione said heatedly as she followed him down the path. "I tried twelve different derivatives and – "

"So number thirteen will probably work," Harry pointed out calmly, and Hermione glared at him in frustration.

"Do you realize how long – "

"Is there anything you happen to think is more important?" Harry asked quietly, and Hermione fell silent.

They had been working on the project for weeks now in secret, not even telling Ron what they were doing. Bill taking him on that little field trip to Germany, and the subsequent recovery, had thrown them off just a little on their timeline, but Harry and Hermione were committed.

One way or another, they would solve the problem before Christmas.

"Just – ugh," Hermione stamped her foot as she groaned, coming to a halt outside the doors to Bill's workshop. "I wish we could go in there," she muttered. "All of Bill's books are so useful, and I bet – "

"Tried," Harry said shortly, scowling as he looked at the door. "It's warmed up tight. Besides, the only thing Bill asked me to do is – "

"Yes, well, he didn't ask me anything," Hermione cut him off. She stood there staring at the door appraisingly, her eyes narrowed. "I bet I could – "

"Hi!" a chipper voice sounded behind them, and Harry and Hermione spun on the path to see Bill standing behind them with a Fortescue's bag in his hands. "What are you up to?" Bill asked lightly, walking over to them. Harry flushed, looking at the man guiltily, and Hermione smoothed a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Tonks sent me over," she said lightly. "She has duty."

Bill nodded thoughtfully, still smiling. "Where are the others?"

"Ron is off with Moody," Harry replied, "and Luna, Neville and Ginny are running drills with the DA."

"But you're not?" Bill asked. Harry jumped slightly as he looked at the man. Somehow, Bill had managed to shift them all so he was standing between them and the shop door. Harry hadn't even seen him move, or felt himself move.

"No," Hermione replied, looking at Bill strangely, and Harry knew she felt the oddness too. "We thought we would work on the maps and see – "

"Bill," Harry interrupted her, staring at his guardian, "what's in there?"

Bill smiled easily, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Nothing to worry about, kid."

"Is it dangerous?" Harry asked. "Is that why you told me to – "

"You're being paranoid, Harry," Bill chuckled slightly, and he grinned at the teens, holding out the ice cream bag. "Here, why don't you go find something to do. Freeze this if you don't eat it right away, alright? I have work."

Harry stared at the man a moment, but Bill's friendly expression didn't change. "Alright," he said finally, taking the bag from Bill, and the older man squeezed his shoulder with a smile.

"I'll be a bit," Bill said. "Send a patroni if you need me,"

Harry nodded, turning on his heel and walking up the path. He felt Hermione hesitate a moment before following, and as soon as they walked through the front door of the cottage, he heard a spell land softly on the door behind them.

He stopped in his tracks, and Hermione just looked at him, then shook her head. Slowly, carefully, she looked behind them, then opened the door slightly. Harry glanced back across the way and saw the shop door open a crack, Bill peering out. Hermione quickly shut the door.

"Monitoring charm," she said simply. "He'll know if we go outside."

Harry was silent, moving quietly into the kitchen and putting the ice cream bag in the ice chest. He was bothered, sure, but – it wasn't like they weren't keeping secrets from Bill.

"I know I'm not the most trusting person, but – " he started to say, but hermione cut him off, her eyes wide.

"Harry," she said seriously, "that was weird."

"I don't think Bill would hurt us," Harry said quietly, and Hermione shot him a sad, knowing look.

"Just because he wouldn't hurt us, doesn't mean what he's doing is safe," she pointed out softly. "Harry, we should try to figure out what's in there."

Harry let out a shaky sigh, raked a hand through his hair, then nodded. Turning on his heel, he headed up to his room for the maps. Hermione hesitated a moment, glancing out the window towards the shop, then followed.

He was going to figure it out, he resolved. Just as soon as Hermione went home. Bill Weasley had done more for him in one summer than other adults had done his whole life, and he'd be damned if he'd let the man get into trouble.

Bill let out a relieved sigh as the kids disappeared upstairs, watching through the viewing pane as Hermione glanced repeatedly towards his shop through the kitchen window. Behind him, Brand sat in grudging silence, the wily man still closed in an empty room, nothing but a set of walls that turned transparent on Bill's command, and a door that only appeared when Bill activated it. The man had no cot, but a conjured mattress on the floor, no toilet, but a bucket, and food appeared twice a day without a plate. Everything had been spelled against alteration, and the wards in the room dampened Brand's magic.

Still, he worried, and he added more wards every day. The man shouldn't even be able to float a feather in that room – but he'd seen less gifted men escape more difficult prisons.

He wasn't taking any chances on the man's ingenuity.

"Alright," he said sharply, and the German man snorted at him, "let's go through it again."

Nothing distracted Hermione quite like a mystery. Harry watched as the girl leaned over the books on his desk, her eyes darting over the text he'd been able to translate so far.

As far as Dumbledore knew, he was sending off everything to the Headmaster without a copy, but Harry wasn't that foolish. He knew there was something in the books he would need.

Hermione turned from the half-translated spell with a frown, turning her gaze on the maps. "This is incredible," she breathed, "the detail." As Harry watched, she traced her wand on the maps, then pointed at the wall, and a projection appeared. Hermione stepped forward, crossing her arms across her chest, and stared at the image with a frown.

"This is a castle," she said suddenly, reaching forward and tracing over a strange symbol with one hand. "My dad's mate, he's an architect, and he did remodel work on one of the royal palaces a few years back. The schematics looked just like that." She frowned again. "The symbols look the same, but I imagine they might have meant something else a thousand years ago."

Harry shook his head. "There's been a mention of a fortress more than once already," he said. "You're probably right."

Hermione glanced at him sharply, then waved her wand again, and a map of current-day England and Scotland appeared transparent over the other image. She stepped even closer, peering at the fortress symbol.

"That's in Scotland," she said quietly.

"It looks like it's in Glasgow," Harry pointed out, and Hermione bit her lip.

"If these maps really are a thousand years old," she murmured, "things change. Mountains erode, rivers shift, land builds up, volcanoes erupt and change entire landscapes, techtonic plates shift – it's a starting point, but it probably isn't exact."

She turned on her heel, staring at the books spread across Harry's desk. "Harry," she said urgently, "we have to find this fortress."

"If it was a fortress of Slytherin's, who knows what could be in there," Harry muttered, and Hermione turned serious eyes to his.

"If Voldemort found these books," she said quietly, "he could be in there."

Bill swore under his breath as the ceiling shook around them. Spinning on his heel, he watched as Louis ducked a skeleton that was reaching for his throat, as Jessica shook off a small, dog-like creature. He looked behind himself and scowled.

No better that way, he thought to himself, we need to –

Suddenly, Jessica turned to face him. Her face was half-melted away, one pretty blue eye sticking out against naked bone and tendon. She reached a skeletal hand towards him, whispering "You should never have come…"

Bill stared in shock, and the walls burst open, skeletons crawling from the fissures as Jessica's skeleton advanced on him. "You don't belong here," she hissed, and he went for his wand, only to find it missing. A dull horror was building up in him – why couldn't he move? He never froze like this –

A booming sounded behind him, and he spun as the ground split open behind him, and a glowing blue light shot up from the ground. Around him, an ethereal voice sounded. Time to pay the price, wizard. You can't steal this secret.

"You should never have come," Jessica snarled, and a skeletal hand closed around his throat.

"Bill!" Louis was telling, "Bill, wake up!"

The ground started to shake under his feet, and Bill shot forward –

And two pairs of hands grabbed him, dragging him back as he practically fell out of the bed. He gasped, shaking, and blue sparks formed between his fingers as he struggled to calm himself. Letting out two rattling breaths, he closed his eyes, opening them quickly as Jessica's mangled face appeared before his eyes.

Turning his head, he rested his forehead on Fleur's shoulder, listening to her heartbeat as she played gently with his hair. The mattress creaked and Bill swallowed carefully, then looked down at his hands and closed his fist, then carefully opened it.

No more sparks.

He let out a sigh of relief, then sat up, meeting the worried eyes of Harry Potter.

"Hello, Harry," he said quietly. "I guess we should talk."

His ward just looked at him quietly, his green eyes shadowed.

In his small, windowless room, Klaus Brand sighed, stretching his arms above his head. It had been days he'd been stuck in here, and truthfully – he was getting bored.

He cracked a grin at the thought of what he was going to do when he got out. The eldest Weasley kid was good, he admitted, better than he'd anticipated. But he'd heard, he'd seen, something that was much more interesting.

Klaus had waited a decade, but he had his next big project.

He just had to get to it.

He looked at the spot on the wall where the Weasley boy always summoned the door, and smiled lightly. With a grunt, he reached into his mouth and poked sharply, his nails drawing blood as he scratched at the inside of his mouth. A river of blood pooled in his mouth and he spat harshly, coughing as some of the blood ran down his throat.

After several minutes of picking at the inside of his own mouth, a small metal chip fell into his hand.

Klaus looked down at the chip with a bloody smile, then rose to his feet.

Time to get to work, he thought cheerfully.