The Paths We Tread

Chapter 11: Bloodied but Unbowed

Astronomy Tower

Hogwarts

September 2, 1996

Even for a September night in Scotland, it was freezing.

He stood with his arms around his thin frame, staring blankly out over the grounds. Normally, he would be gazing at the stars, trying to catalogue every single one above him, to memorize their locations. The night sky was one of his favorite mysteries, and he never tired of trying to solve it.

That night, he had a considerably larger problem to solve.

The parchment was curled in his hand, the edges dotted with blood from where he'd clenched his fist so hard, he'd cut his own palm on his nails. He was fairly certain he'd ripped out a clump or two of hair, and his other hand was bruised and throbbing, the knuckles shredded from where he had punched the stone wall of his dormitory.

His father had always told him he needed to learn to control his temper.

The thought of his father made the rage return, an icy tempest that stole through his blood and clouded his mind. The sound of the wind around him died away, the feel of the cold bite of the air vanished. All he could hear was his own heart, pounding in his ears.

He was not a slave. He would not be a slave. His mother must be turning over in her grave.

He smiled sadly as his mother's face flashed through his mind. Ten years had made her memory fade, so he could never quite picture her perfectly, but he could still see her, smiling at him as she tucked him in at night. Feel her running her small fingers through his hair.

Hear her screaming for his father to leave him alone, for him to run – begging his father to stop –

He squeezed his fist tighter, and a section of the stone turret beside him exploded.

This is madness.

He shook his head, closed his eyes, and let out a long, slow breath. Slowly, his temper eased, leaving behind his normal calm, emotionless disposition.

Or so it appeared to the world. He had to be calm, if he wanted to plan.

So… what to plan?

He knew Draco had received a letter from his father. Knew that could mean nothing good. Was fairly certain, in fact, that he had received similar news.

Difference between him and Draco Malfoy, though? He had a spine.

He knew now. So now… what to do about it?

He stood there, staring out at the lake, and watched as the giant squid raised a tentacle in the darkness. Right. There really was only one thing he could do, wasn't there?

Turning on his heel, he made his way down into the castle.

He would wait for his moment, and he would take it.

Mt Lhotse

Near Kathmandu, Nepal

Louis was tired, he was cold, and he was angry.

The sun was just starting to creep over the horizon as he stood outside the monastery, his hands turning blue inside his robes. No amount of warming charms was enough to combat the unspeakably frigid temperature, and even his thickest robes left him feeling completely bare.

He stood at the vertex of three glaciers, the Bubblehead Charm the only thing keeping breathable air in his lungs. To his right was a steep cliff face, to his left, a sharp drop. As he watched, a gust of wind raced along the edge of the drop, sending a cascade of rocks sliding down the side. Beneath his feet, the soil shifted slightly, and he paled.

When he made it home, he was going to bloody well kill Bill Weasley.

But to do that, he'd have to survive the trip first.

The twelve or thirteen monks to whom he had appealed still stood in a circular huddle, their hands tucked into their billowing sleeves, heads bowed low and close together as they whispered. Every so often, two or three from the group would look up in tandem, slowly craning their necks to stare at him, then quickly jerk their heads back when they saw him looking back.

It was amusing the first time. Odd the second. Bloody obnoxious the third.

Like clockwork, the next three from the group turned to look at him, and he fought the urge to bare his teeth and lunge at them. Instead, he raised an eyebrow and said nothing. The eldest of the group, in the back, snorted and shook his head.

As though pulled by strings, the rest of the monks suddenly separated, scurrying backwards several paces and kneeling on the frozen ground, bending over and touching their foreheads to the earth. The eldest – and smallest – shuffled through the path they had created, coming to a stop directly in front of Louis.

Was he supposed to bow his head or something?

Crikey, he missed Jess. She was always damn good at charming the locals.

…Bill too, but he'd never admit that to the pillock.

A sharp gust of wind ripped through him and he jumped, teeth chattering, then shook his head to clear it as he heard a pained, wheezing laugh echo from in front of him. He looked down to see the wizened old monk giving him a wide, toothless grin, and he smiled abashedly back at the old man. With a wave of his hand, the monk gestured to the looming monastery behind him, then turned around and began shuffling away, his feet sliding along the icy ground. The old monk reached the closest two prostate disciples and stopped, half-turning and giving Louis a pointed look, and Lou sighed.

He fingered his wand absently in his pocket, murmuring another pointless warming spell, and followed the old man, the other monks falling in line behind them like strange little ducklings.

He was pretty sure he'd seen a horror movie or two start like this.

You owe me the most expensive case of liquor you can find, Bill, he thought with a scowl.

Shell Cottage

Tinworth, Cornwall

A silvery otter slammed into the living room, and Tonks jumped, landing right on the shards of her broken glass. She muttered darkly to herself as she threw herself back in the chair, propping her feet up and summoning the shards from her boots. Bill ignored her, his brow furrowed in concentration as he stared straight ahead.

"Come on," he said tersely, tossing his just-filled glass in the fire and striding out of the room. Tonks glanced at the miniature explosion in the hearth, rolling her eyes as the alcohol combusted and shot towards the chimney.

Fucking drama queen, she thought with a scowl, stumbling after the man. Bill quickly ripped through his wards and grabbed her by the wrist, pulling her into the room. He dragged her past the locked panels covering the walls, past the now empty cell, and burst into the ritual room.

"What?" he practically snarled, and Hermione spun on her heel, glaring at them. Her wild hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, there was a smudge of dirt on her forehead, and something vile was lodged under her fingernails. Tonks cringed, staring at the girl, and Hermione cut her eyes towards her before looking back at Bill.

"Here," she replied simply, pointing with a small dagger to a map on the table. Tonks pushed past Bill and leaned over the map, staring at the surface with narrowed eyes. A ring of fire surrounded a section of the map, although 'section' was a gross understatement. Everything from Cardiff to London, almost all the way across the North Sea to Brussels, was contained in the fiery circle.

Bill swore loudly, and Tonks shook her head. She didn't know how to do any of that, but they had to use tracking experts in the Aurory all the time. It wasn't unusual to get that kind of reading back from a tracking spell, not when up against someone who knew what they were doing.

"Can't you narrow it down any?" Bill asked, scowling at the map. As Tonks watched, he stepped forward, tapping his wand lightly on the curling parchment, and the flames flickered slightly, as if a sudden breeze had passed through the room.

"Eventually," Hermione replied, scowling back at Bill. "I've narrowed down the spells they are using to block our tracking, however. It is a wide-range disruption net, it blocks every tracker that isn't cast by specific people who are – "

" – keyed in to the wards," Bill finished, his face going blank, as it often did when he was upset. Tonks shot him a worried glance, then turned back to look at her ward, who was nodding definitively. "How did you figure it out?"

"The backlash," Hermione murmured, shoving her hair back from her eyes with the hand holding the dagger. "After that last tracker caused the explosion, I started casting smaller revealing spells at different areas of the map. The trackers stop at every point outside that circle. From each direction."

"Which means they are somewhere in that area," Bill frowned. "That's a huge amount of land to search. It would take months."

Hermione shook her head. "I think I can get through it," the girl replied. "I just need to figure out where the focal point is, so I can start putting pressure on that part of the map. And most likely, the focal point is their location."

Bill let out a heavy sigh as Tonks stared at them. "This makes a rescue far more complicated," he muttered to himself, and Hermione nodded, her eyes shadowed.

"Crikey, you two give me a headache," Tonks said darkly. "Someone, please, explain."

Hermione eyed Bill nervously. The eldest Weasley son had conjured a chair and was sitting next to the table, staring blankly at the map. Shaking her head, the girl cleared her throat and looked at Tonks.

"It's blood warding," Hermione said simply, "and extremely powerful, at that. Think of it like a… like an electromagnetic field. It blocks certain signals from getting through, so we can't get a tracker through."

"Which reveals where is being protected. Like if you throw paint at the wall, but some of the wall stays clean, you know there's something in the way. But it's such a huge expanse of space, it'll take forever to search manually," Bill finished.

"So… what do we do now?" Tonks asked worriedly, biting her lip as she looked between the pair of geniuses.

"Something has to get through eventually," Hermione replied with a heavy sigh. "I've tried reaching out to Ginny through the pendants, and it's like static. I can get a vague sense of… something, impressions, flashes, but I can't hear anything. And she can't speak to me."

"But she's alive." Bill stood abruptly from the chair, shoving it back. He leaned over the map again, staring at a spot near Dover. "Hermione, have you tried sending a spell through the pendant?"

"Yes. The same result."

He nodded, his eyes shadowed, and Tonks felt another surge of pity. As she watched, the cursebreaker rolled up his sleeves, then tied his hair back with a set expression. "Alright, show me what you've tried already. That should help to eliminate a few different types of wards."

"While you do that, I'm going to go check in with Harry and Ron," Tonks said quietly, and Hermione looked up at her with a frown.

"They haven't found the spell they were looking for yet. They are in the Chamber."

"How do you – ?" Tonks started, trailing off when Hermione raised an eyebrow and wrapped one hand around the pendant at her neck. "Right," she said sheepishly. "Luna and Neville?"

"Neville is patrolling the lower reaches of the school with Hannah Abbott. Luna has gone off somewhere with McGonagall. She isn't sharing."

"Okay then," Tonks muttered. "I'm going to go be useful somewhere, then."

Hermione glanced at her, making a face, then turned back to Bill.

Tonks edged towards the door, then slipped out of the workshop as the two began talking about trackers and wards and field disruptors. That definitely wasn't her wheelhouse… but she could go check on Shack, then maybe they could pick a spot in that huge circle and start searching.

Hang in there, Gin, she thought sadly.

The Cliffs of Moher, The Burren

County Clare, Ireland

He landed and immediately slipped, his feet catching on a slick spot on the rock. With a muttered grunt, he righted himself, dusting his robes off uselessly. An unnatural chill seeped into his bones as he stood there, staring at the fissure ahead. With a solemn sigh, Dumbledore drew his wand from his sleeve, eyes narrowed on his surroundings. Even from where he stood, he could feel the foulness in the air. It lingered, cloying and oily, on his skin, like he had bathed in filth.

He wanted nothing more than to turn on his heel and go home.

Slowly, he picked his way across the rocks, slipping here and there and catching himself on the sharp edges. His hands were nearly shredded by the time he reached the entrance, his robes drenched from the spray of the sea, and he stopped a moment, shivering and aching, as he stared at the entrance. He waited to hear his sister's screams, his brother's shouts, but – silence.

No Dementors guarded the cave, apparently.

He looked carefully at the surrounding rocks, and eventually found what he was looking for – the faintest mark on the rock wall. Reaching into his robes, he withdrew a small dagger and moved to cut his hand, then frowned, making a face at himself as he looked down at his palm. He didn't need to cut himself. His hands were bloodied plenty already.

With a tired sigh, he pressed his palm to the spot, stepping back and holding his wand aloft as the door ahead scraped and separated. He moved silently into the cave, his eyes scanning back and forth across the damp, chilly space. After a couple revealing spells, he relaxed slightly.

Honestly, the security there was rather lax. He was almost disappointed.

He waved his wand lightly, conjuring a little bobbing lantern, and set off down into the cave. The steady drip of water from the cave ceiling echoed almost ominously through the space. Under his feet, leaves, branches, and small skeletons crunched, and he swallowed nervously.

Had Tom created another basilisk? Was that what hidden in the cave?

He reached a section of stone which seemed to be almost like steps carved into the floor. Carefully, he descended, his eyes still scanning the surroundings. The shadows cast by his lantern seemed to stretch on forever, and glancing up, he found that he could not see the ceiling.

After a time, he came to the edge of a vast, murky lake. There was a tiny island in the center, barely a meter across, and a small table sat upon the island. He paused at the water's edge, staring down at the bottom.

And felt another chill run through himself as he gazed down onto the rotted, sleeping corpses beneath the surface of the water.

Sighisoara, Transylvania

Mures County, Romania

Theodore Nott hated crowds.

He stood on the street corner, watching as people flitted from shop to shop under the harsh light of the streetlamps. Even at barely four am, the place was crawling with tourists – all of them adventure seekers, looking for a chance to spot a real, live vampire. His lip curled with disdain as he watched a crowd of young men and women jump, the women letting out little terrified screams. In the center stood a gangly young man in a uniform, likely a tour guide.

Hell on earth, the place was.

He shook his head and turned away, slipping down a cobbled side street as another group stumbled out of a nearby bar. He wound slowly through the town, coming to a stop just outside the Butchers' Tower, and stopped on the street, staring at the place in the darkness.

The secrets contained in the Citadel had been liberated by his ancestors long ago. His many-greats grandfather had gone so far as to set the citadel ablaze to cover his tracks, so important had the artifacts recovered been. Trusting the items to Lucius Malfoy had been the most colossal mistake of Theodore's life.

The dozens of 'random raids' that Muggle-loving blood traitor Weasley had conducted on Malfoy Manor had been… costly.

He sighed heavily, staring ahead at the rather unimpressive stone structure. The Butchers' Tower looked like nothing but an inelegant pile of rocks stretching toward the sky, and yet, the Muggles in the town celebrated it as an historic 'relic.'

He would never understand Muggles.

"Gorgeous, innit?" a voice asked from nearby, and Theodore stifled the urge to snarl as he turned toward the younger man. In the shadow of a nearby streetlight stood an olive-skinned, dark haired man with hooded eyes. He was wrapped in a leather jacket that fell down below his knees, with scuffed but well-made boots on his feet. As Theodore watched, the young man lit a Muggle cigarette and put the foul thing to his lips, blowing out a small ring of smoke.

"It is an impressive sight," he agreed, forcing an awed expression on his face as he turned back to the tower. "You are Stefan, I presume?"

"At your service," the younger man said with a grin, bending his arm across his chest and bowing with a silly little flourish. Stefan chuckled as he straightened up, moving to stand beside Theodore without the slightest hesitation.

"You received the transfer of funds?"

The younger man nodded. "That I did. I'll get you inside, my friend, but – what are you looking for?"

Theodore looked steadily at the young tour guide, shaking his head. "I simply loathe crowds," he replied easily. "I would rather take my tour alone." Taking a gamble – he'd been watching the younger man for days, after all – he let his eyes travel up and down the lengths of Stefan's body, smirking internally as he saw the Romanian's eyes light up.

Yes, it would be easy to accomplish his goal. This child was foolish and trusting. Nothing like his boy.

"Well," Stefan the Romanian tour guide drawled, "I will be happy to oblige. Come along."

With a quick wave of his hand, the young man led Theodore across the wooded grounds and to the edge of the stone structure. Glancing to the left and right, he pulled out a large iron key and slid it into a padlock wrapped around a heavy wooden door. The door swung inward and Stefan hurried into the building, quickly turning to his right and heading up a narrow, winding rickety wooden staircase. They reached the top of the walls and Stefan turned, grinning broadly at him in the darkness.

"Quite a view, eh?" he asked with a chuckle, looking out over the town. Even with the hour, none of the streets were fully dark.

"Yes," Theodore agreed easily. He raised his wand and whispered under his breath, and the young man never even had a chance to turn around. Moving forward quickly, he grabbed the tour guide as he slumped against the walls, pulling him back before he fell to the streets below. With another muttered spell, he vanished the body back to his manor.

The wards were probably in need of renewal anyway.

Turning on his heel, he moved carefully along the walls, following the path drawn out for him by his ancestors. He came to a stop nearest the clock tower, his eyes narrowed as he scanned the walls around him. Finally he found it, a small etching in the stone near the ground. He knelt carefully, slitting his palm with a small silver dagger, and pressed his hand to the etching.

The ground shimmered nearby, and he slipped carefully through the trapdoor that had appeared.

Landing with a heavy grunt, he straightened from a crouch and raised his wand, quickly conjuring a light. He'd fallen further than it had appeared he would, from the instructions, and he was standing in what looked like an old dug out cellar. Pillars lined the stone walls around him, carvings of beasts and deities atop the crowns of the pillars. Moving carefully through the darkness, he searched again for a marker, finally finding a carved design in the center of the wall that matched nothing else in the room.

Another bloodied press of his hand and a door appeared in the wall, and Theodore moved through the opening into what was an impossibly darker room. His conjured light flickered out and he felt something moving nearby, heard the scrape of stone on stone.

Theodore felt a thrill run down his spine as the footfalls came closer, and he willed himself to stay still and calm. A fire roared to life on a torch near him, and in the dim light, he saw a set of pure white eyes glowing in the darkness. The tall, thin creature stopped before him, its lips peeling back to reveal unnaturally long, sharp teeth. Other footfalls echoed, and Theodore felt himself slowly being surrounded.

"Wizard," the vampire hissed. "Why have you trespassed here?"

Theodore smiled in the darkness.

Headmaster's Office

Hogwarts

Normally, he loved the sunrise, but after having spent the entire night up and trying to reconstruct his own mind, Kingsley Shacklebolt was not in the best of moods.

Add to that a missing kid and a raging partner, and he was bloody well exhausted.

"What do you mean, he's gone?" Tonks said angrily, and Dumbledore frowned at her sharply.

"Severus has taken a leave of absence from the school," he explained, and Tonks scoffed.

"You mean he's run like a fucking coward," she spat, and Dumbledore drew back in alarm.

"Nymphadora," he began, and Tonks huffed at him.

"Do you know what he did?"

Shack could feel a headache coming on. He sat silently in the chair beside Tonks, watching as Dumbledore smoothed his expression. As they sat there, the Headmaster simply steepled his hands under his chin and looked at Tonks, waiting.

"He is in Hermione's mind, Dumbledore," Tonks said urgently. "He's influencing her thoughts, pulling her away from people, and that's just what we know. Bill figured it out, but he couldn't find everything. Snape is in there deep."

"And why was young William trespassing on Miss Granger's mind in the first place?" Dumbledore asked sharply.

Tonks let out a bitter laugh, and Shack winced. "Oh, no, you don't," she said, her voice low and dark. "Don't you even try to turn this around on him. He's trying to help protect these kids. I don't know what your vendetta is with him lately – "

Oh Merlin, Tonks, Shack thought.

"But just because he outsmarted you doesn't mean you should ignore something important and dangerous because he found it."

"I beg your pardon!"

"Why don't you beg his, Dumbledore?"

Shacklebolt cleared his throat, and the two combatants turned abruptly and stared at him. Tonks' hair was switching quickly between red and black, her eyes narrowed and her face twisted in a scowl. Across the desk from them, Dumbledore had leaned forward, his normally friendly or impassive face red with anger, his hands clenched white-knuckled on the arms of his chair.

"Headmaster, you must admit, he's been behaving strangely towards her," he said calmly. "And there is evidence that someone Obliviated me, within this castle. Unless it was you…"

The Headmaster stared at him in open shock, and Shack bit back a sarcastic comment. The silence stretched on and finally, Dumbledore let out a heavy sigh.

"I will make inquiries," he said sadly. "However, I do not believe that Severus would harm a student."

"I do," Tonks bit out, and Dumbledore glared at her for a moment before the impassive mask appeared on his face again.

"Speaking of Miss Granger, any news on that front?"

Tonks glared at Dumbledore a minute longer before huffing out another breath. "No," she muttered darkly. "Bill and Hermione have narrowed down a search radius, but it's still – "

"Too much to reasonably search, not quickly enough, anyway," Shack finished. "And Harry and Ron didn't have any luck finding that spell Harry remembered seeing. Hermione is still working on it, but Bill is trying a different approach."

"Such as?" Dumbledore asked.

Gringotts Bank

The remains of Diagon Alley

London, England

There was something altogether eerie about walking through the ashes of a street he had wandered for years as a child.

Bill had been moving about London for well over two hours, doing his level best to be noticeable. After hours and hours bent over that map with Hermione, getting nowhere, he'd decided to leave her to it, instead following through on a different plan.

Well… two, really. One was to get captured himself, to torture the living hell out of whoever took him, and to use that to find Ginny. The other… the other was even more desperate.

Bill moved carefully through the wreckage, his eyes scanning his surroundings for any other witches or wizards that might have been lurking in the broken buildings. The Ministry was operating out of the Minister's manor, and they had yet to even make the slightest overtures of attempting a clean-up. The flames had been dead for days now, but the rubble hadn't even been touched. He frowned as he gazed at the hollow shell that had been, for a short time, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. The once blindingly colorful shop was nothing but grey and black, the entire outside torched and walls crumbled over. Swinging from a still-standing section of wall was the giant 'W,' the only spot of color still visible.

A breeze swept through the alley, and the creaking, swinging 'W' fell, crashing to the ground.

Fitting, Bill thought darkly.

The door swung open behind him and Bill spun around, his eyes narrowed. Behind him stood Bogrod, the banker's wire-rimmed glasses nearly falling off his nose. As Bill gazed down at him, the goblin frowned, straightening his tie nervously.

"Mr. Weasley," Bogrod nearly whispered. "Quickly now, in!"

Bill shot a glance over his shoulder and slipped into the bank, the door shutting heavily behind him.

Somewhere in England

Ginny gasped as another sharp pain ran through her mind, like someone had jammed a hot poker into her brain and twisted the thing. Her teeth ground together, tears springing into her eyes, and she bit back a scream. Before her, she could see the still-smiling face of Voldemort, his eyes fixed to her face. He blurred slightly as her vision swam, and she let out a shaky breath as the pain receded.

He was getting no satisfaction from this, she was sure. He wanted her to break – to scream, to cry, to beg – and she had done nothing of the sort. Surely the tosser would get bored soon.

But it had been hours. And he hadn't left her yet.

"There's no need for this, little one," the Dark Lord whispered almost lovingly, his face twisted in a mockery of sympathy. "You'll always be mine. Why do you fight?"

She wasn't sure she could speak without her voice breaking, so she did the next best thing and spat at his feet.

Voldemort chuckled.

"Such fire," he said softly, stepping closer, and Ginny braced herself as he tapped his wand on her cheek.

"My Lord."

Ginny looked up to the sky, breathing a silent prayer of thanks, as Voldemort stepped back, turning his head to glare at the intruder. Lucius Malfoy stood in the doorway, his face smoothed into an impassive mask.

"My Lord, Bill Weasley has been spotted moving about London," the Death Eater said quietly, and Ginny stiffened. "He seems to be traveling alone."

"Bill?" Voldemort questioned. "Which one of the many offspring is he?"

"The eldest, My Lord," Malfoy replied, darting a glance at Ginny before sneering again. "The cursebreaker."

"Cursebreaker?" Voldemort turned fully, raising an eyebrow at Malfoy. "How… interesting. He would be useful."

"Bill will never bow to you," Ginny hissed angrily, and Voldemort turned and gave her an indulgent look. Behind him, Malfoy cleared his throat as Ginny shuddered again, and Voldemort raised a hairless eyebrow at the man.

"I must agree with the girl, My Lord," the aristocrat said smoothly. "The tales of Bill Weasley are lacking in… details… but what little I know of the man, he's capable, but hindered by moral hesitations. He has been fighting against us all summer. And he's taken in the Potter boy, no less."

"All the more perfect," Voldemort mused. He turned back to face Ginny, his face twisted in a smirk. "Nowhere near here, you notice," he breathed. "They haven't found you, child. No one is coming for you."

Ginny stared back at him impassively.

"He's capable, you say?" Voldemort questioned Malfoy. "Do you mean powerful?"

"Reasonably so, my Lord," Malfoy agreed cautiously. "The goblins speak of him almost with reverence."

A flash of anger crossed Riddle's features, and Ginny felt a spark of triumph in her mind. Take that, you piece of shit, she thought viciously. Me and mine outclass you in every way.

"That is interesting," he said softly. "Especially with the recent revelations about gentle Arthur Weasley." He turned back to Ginny and smiled. "Your family is so much more intriguing than I imagined, little one."

The triumph died out.

"But for now," Voldemort continued, "we must move to the next stage." He snapped his fingers and Pettigrew scurried out of the corner, handing over a small vial of dark red liquid. Ginny watched as Voldemort unstoppered the vial, turning to her and smiling almost gently.

"Open up," he whispered, and Ginny's blood ran cold.

"No," she whispered back. Merlin only knew what was in that vial, but all she knew for sure was it wasn't Liquid Luck.

"Wormtail," Voldemort said sharply, and the sniveling man moved forward, grabbing Ginny's arm roughly and shoving her into the wall. Malfoy crossed the room in two quick strides and grabbed her face, his fingers digging into the sides of her jaw. She hissed angrily, twisting and fighting as her heart thundered in her ears. She heard Malfoy chuckle, felt him reach up with his other hand and wrap his fingers through her hair, yanking harshly and dragging her head back. Her chest tightened as the panic rose and she bit down on her lip even as Malfoy pressed harder on her jaw, forcing her mouth open. Blood ran down her face from her split lip and she felt something being poured into her mouth.

Gagging, she struggled to spit out the thick potion, and tears ran down her face as Wormtail breathed heavily in her ear. With a muttered swear, Malfoy let go of her jaw and slammed his hand over her mouth, yanking her head back further, and pressed on her throat with his other hand. Something warm and thick moved down her throat, like fiery molasses, and suddenly both Death Eaters let her go, Malfoy stepping back quickly. Ginny sobbed as she fell limply to the ground, her knees slamming on the stone floor, and she curled on her side as she gasped for air.

"That," Malfoy ground out, shaking his hand as though it burned, "was much easier when she was unconscious."

Silence echoed through the room and she let out a shaky breath, forcing back her tears, and she rose smoothly to her knees, glaring at Voldemort.

The Dark Lord was gazing down at her, something unspeakable in his unhinged red eyes.

"Release her," he said softly, and Ginny stared. Malfoy moved forward to grab her arm, dragging her bodily to her feet. "Unharmed," Voldemort hissed, and Malfoy's grip loosened slightly. A strange feeling was building up in her, like a sudden violent fever, and her heart was still thundering in her ears. The room spun around her and she felt herself being dragged from the room, up a set of stairs and around a corner.

They emerged onto a darkened main floor and the Malfoy patriarch tapped his wand on her temple, and Ginny's vision immediately went dark. She heard a heavy door swing open, felt herself being shoved into a carriage, and she struggled to stay awake even as she felt herself grow faint.

When she woke, she was lying in the rain, thrown in a heap on a pile of rubbish behind a shop. Struggling to her feet, she shoved her hair back from her face and stumbled into the street. She raised her wand and called for the Knight Bus, and when it arrived, she promptly collapsed at Stan Shunkpike's feet.

Hogwarts Infirmary

Hogwarts

"No!" Ginny almost screamed, shoving the vial away. Pomfrey looked down at her worriedly, her face twisted in doubt and fear. "No potions. No."

"But Ginny, we need to heal – "

"NO!"

"Poppy!" a sharp voice cut in, and from the doorway, Dumbledore smiled gently at the mediwitch. "Do an evaluation, please."

Poppy Pomfrey stepped back and set the vial down on the bedside table, slowly drawing her wand to run checks on Ginny. As she did so, Ron and Luna shoved by Dumbledore, Luna immediately climbing into the hospital bed with Ginny and pulling the redhead into her arms. Ron dragged a chair over to the side of the bed and sat roughly, reaching out and wrapping both hands around one of his sister's.

Harry leaned against the wall and watched them sadly, Hermione and Neville silent on either side of him. Beside him, the hospital wing door slammed open, and Bill and Charlie came striding into the room, Viktor on their heels. Harry looked at his guardian worriedly, but Bill's eyes were fixed on Ginny's face, his hands fisted at his sides. He glanced down at Bill's hands and let out a tired sigh. Blue sparks were dancing between the cursebreaker's fingers, and the man didn't even seem to notice.

Silence echoed through the room as Pomfrey ran her tests, then finally the mediwitch stepped back further from the bed, frowning.

"She's lost a considerable amount of blood," the woman said softly. "There are a couple broken bones that I can set, and some slight curses. But nothing – nothing I would have expected, considering…"

Harry closed his eyes as relief sank into his bones.

"He gave me something," Ginny said in a flat voice.

His eyes flew open.

"A potion," she continued, locking eyes with Harry. "I fought, but they held me down and forced it down my throat. I don't know what it was."

Ron let out a strangled groan as Luna's arms tightened around Ginny. "We'll figure it out, Gin," Charlie said urgently. "We'll figure it out."

Bill still hadn't moved.

"Yes, well," Shacklebolt's deep voice sounded from the doorway, and Harry glanced over at the Auror. "We've lost our Potions Master, so where do we start?"

A sad look flitted across Dumbledore's face, and Harry exchanged a dark look with Neville as Hermione looked down at the ground.

"I can try," Viktor spoke up, and Ginny stared at him, her eyes wide. As he moved further into the room, Dumbledore turned and looked at him sharply.

"You studied under Wilhelm Haber?"

"Da," Viktor nodded. "His father vas a var criminal, but a brilliant Potions Master. He learned from him."

"What would you need?" Bill asked, speaking finally. He still hadn't looked away from Ginny. Behind them, the door banged open again as Fred and George ran into the room. The twins ignored everyone and darted over to Ginny's bed, sitting at the foot of the bed and each of them putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Blood and tissue samples," Viktor replied. "Saliva. A place to vork."

Dumbledore gazed at the Bulgarian, his eyes thoughtful. "You operate very differently than my Potions Master."

"Good," Shacklebolt rumbled, and Harry glanced over at Hermione, seeing a flash of pain across her face. As he watched, Neville scooted around him and moved to Hermione's side, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

Dumbledore shot a look at Shacklebolt before turning back to Viktor. "Very well," he said slowly. "I hope you don't mind if I assist?"

"Is fine," the Quidditch star muttered, and Dumbledore smiled. Viktor turned away from him, gazing at Ginny. She looked back at him evenly, then bit her lip and frowned.

"I tried to stab him," she blurted out after a moment, and the room went silent. Harry glanced at Viktor, and the other man had gone very still. "I tried, but he took away my other knife."

Every Weasley male in the room had gone pale, but Viktor was just staring back at her. After a long pause, he smiled. "Vhen you are vell," he said quietly, "I vill teach you how to make sure that does not happen again."

Harry raised an eyebrow, looking at the other man. Something in his tone was – different. A quick look at Hermione showed her smiling slightly, looking back and forth between the two of them. She caught his eye and grinned before leaning her head tiredly on Neville's shoulder.

"Very well," Dumbledore cut in. "Let's get to work, then."

"Wait," Ginny said, and she turned to look at Harry again. "I didn't see anybody, and Dean was the only one I heard. When I first woke up. They blinded me when they took me out, so I couldn't see where we were or where we went, but maybe something in my memories will – "

Dumbledore smiled sadly, and he stepped forward, pulling an empty crystal vial from his pocket. He moved to Ginny's side and pressed his wand to her temple, and she looked up at him then let out a shaky breath. "Concentrate," he said gently, and she nodded and closed her eyes. After a moment, a silvery strand flowed out of her head and curled around Dumbledore's wand, and he tipped the strand into the vial. Turning away, he held the vial out to Bill, who moved forward immediately and took the memories.

"My password is Canary Creams," he said to Bill, and the cursebreaker strode from the room. Harry looked around a moment, then walked over and hugged Ginny. He stepped back and smiled at her sadly, then set off after his guardian.

The Room of Requirement

Hogwarts

"Nothing useful," Harry grunted, glaring at the fire. "It's clearly a dungeon, but where? There's no pictures, nothing distinguishable about the room. No windows, to be able to see anything outside. She was unconscious when they brought her in and blinded when they brought her out. The only thing that stood out was they put her in a carriage to take her out."

"But we know Dean Thomas is alive," Neville pointed out. "Or was, at least."

Harry glanced over at Seamus, sitting and staring at the wall. "Is," Harry insisted, and Neville grimaced.

They had been sitting in the darkness for an hour before Harry and Bill joined them, Ginny and Luna still curled up together in the hospital wing. Ron and Neville, Hermione and Susan, Hannah and Seamus, all sitting in squashy armchairs and talking with Lupin, Tonks, and Shacklebolt, all trying to come up with ideas. Anything, anything at all, to help narrow down where Ginny had been. In the corner, Fred, George and Charlie were shooting flames at targets that were made to look like Malfoy and Dolohov. Hermione kept shooting worried looks at the Dolohov target, and Tonks scooted her armchair closer, grasping her hand gently.

Harry sat there silently, dropping his head down into his hands. At his throat, his pendant warmed, and he wrapped one hand around it, smiling slightly as Luna's voice sounded in his mind. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had just arrived and were with Ginny. Luna was headed his way.

"We need to figure something out," Susan said urgently, and Tonks nodded.

"But with Moody, Vance, Shack, Fred, George, Charlie and me all searching all day, we still didn't manage to cover even a tenth of the area Hermione managed to narrow down," Tonks said hesitantly. 'I don't know how we can find them without – "

A sudden thud sounded through the room, and almost as one they shot to their feet, Shacklebolt pushing Hermione behind him as the girl glared at him and pulled from his grip. Harry shot a glance at Ron then moved over to the door, his friend on his heels. Ron raised his wand, stepping back slightly to be behind where the door would open, then looked at Harry and nodded, and Harry swung the door wide, his wand arm falling at his side as he stared blankly.

Theo Nott stood in the doorway, his hair plastered to his head and his robes drenched. The other boy raised his head to meet Harry's eyes, his own gaze dark and troubled.

"They're in my house, Potter," he said hoarsely, and Harry heard Hannah let out a gasp. "They're in my house."

As Harry continued to stare at the Slytherin, he heard footfalls behind him, and Lupin reached out and clasped his shoulder, looking steadily at Nott.

"I think you'd better come in, Theo," Lupin said gently. Nott looked away from Harry, still staring, and locked eyes with his former professor. Swallowing nervously, the Slytherin teen nodded and stepped through the door.

"So… we have a plan," Ron said slowly, his eyes still narrowed on Nott. Harry watched as the Slytherin shifted in his chair. Nott's face was perfectly calm, but he was fidgety, continuously turning something over in his hands.

Somehow, he didn't feel the other teen was a good enough actor to be a turncoat. He shot a glance at Hermione and she nodded. Maybe Nott was going to be a terrible screw-up and get people killed, but… he was genuine.

"Does Draco want to be a Death Eater?" Lupin asked Nott, and the teen grimaced.

"Draco is afraid to go against his father," the Slytherin said quietly. "I'm not sure he's even figured out he can want something yet, let alone what."

"He'll be no use, then," Tonks muttered. The metamorph's hair turned a brilliant orange as she gazed at the flames, turning a dagger over and over again in her palm.

"There's still the minor matter of Voldemort and who knows how many Death Eaters between us and those kids," Charlie pointed out, and Harry and Tonks winced.

"We'll just have to draw them out somehow," Shack murmured.

"But how?" said Fred, George nodding beside him, and Harry stared at the flames, his mind racing. What if they –

"I have an idea," Bill said quietly.

Harry looked up and met his guardian's eyes. Bill was looking at him evenly, an eyebrow raised in question. As Bill met his eyes, Harry saw an image of himself, sitting in Grimmauld Place, quietly saying "I propose we take out Lucius Malfoy first."

"I'm in," Harry said simply.

"We'll need a way to get past the wards on Malfoy Manor," Bill continued out loud. "Since we can't spare anyone to play guard, we can't kidnap the younger Malfoy and force him to help. So I'll need part of a Malfoy."

Tonks made a funny sound in the back of her throat, and Ron grinned darkly.

"Would blood do?" Nott asked quietly, and Bill nodded. "Leave it to me," the Slytherin teen said.

"Alright. I need it within the next two hours." Nott nodded sharply, and Bill rose to his feet.

"Alright, Harry, come on. Hermione, you too, sweetheart, I could use a second set of eyes."

"Where are we going?" Hermione asked, standing quickly.

Bill grinned. "We've got to see a man about a spell."

"What exactly do you plan to do?" Harry asked as they left the Room of Requirement, moving quickly to the stairs.

"You'll see."

Slytherin Dungeons

Hogwarts

Someone had followed him; he was sure of it. Theo glanced back over his shoulder as he stepped into the Slytherin dorms. The hallway was empty, the only movement the play of shadows thrown from the torches onto the walls. But someone was there.

The door swung shut behind him and he paused in the doorway, closing his eyes quickly before opening them again and setting off to his dorm. The room was empty, all the other boys off causing mayhem or misery somewhere in the castle, and he flung himself down on his bed, throwing his arm over his eyes.

"What's wrong?" a drawling voice sounded, and Theo moved his arm, sitting up slightly and glaring at the door.

Draco Malfoy stood just inside the entrance to their dorm room, gazing at him with open worry. Theo scoffed at his dormmate, propping himself on his elbows. "What's wrong?" he demanded, forcing a tremble into his voice – although truthfully, he didn't have to try very hard. "What's wrong." He scrubbed a hand over his face and flung himself back on the bed, glaring up at the canopy to his bed. "What's wrong is my bloody father, wanting to sell me off to be branded and enslaved!"

A heavy silence echoed in the room, then he heard footsteps coming closer, and felt his bed shift as his friend sat on the edge.

"It might not be that bad," Draco said hesitantly. "They won't expect us to do anything big right away, after all, and – "

"Maybe you're okay with working for a madman who hurts women and kids," Theo said darkly, "but I'm not." In his mind's eye, he saw his mother again, broken and bleeding on the floor. Saw his own tiny, six-year old hands, shaking her shoulder and trying to wake her.

He heard Draco draw a sharp breath, and then his friend murmured quietly, "Is this really about your father?"

"Everything bad in my life is about my father."

Another long pause, and finally Draco whispered, "Are you sure?"

Theo swallowed, his eyes prickling with tears. "I don't want this."

"Theo, they'll kill you if you resist," Draco replied urgently. "Your mother didn't die to protect you so that you could throw your life away."

The anger wasn't hard to force, either. "Don't talk about my mother."

"You're not your father, Theo. You're nothing like him. She wouldn't blame you – "

"I said don't!" Theo roared, and he came up off the bed swinging, catching Draco in the nose with his fist. His friend jumped back, clapping his hand over his nose, and Theo felt a rush of triumph, followed by a sick feeling of guilt and dread.

"Bloody hell, Draco, I'm sorry," he muttered, shooting to his feet, and he fumbled in his pocket for a handkerchief. "I didn't – I just – " He held out the handkerchief, his hand shaking, and looked at his friend sadly. "I – I'm sorry."

"S'alright," Draco said thickly, taking the handkerchief and pressing it to his nose. The white silk stained crimson instantly, and Draco let out a pained sigh.

"Episky," Theo whispered, pointing his wand at his friend's face, and his nose straightened immediately. Draco winced then wadded up the handkerchief, handing it back to Theo.

"I – I think I need to go for a walk," Theo said haltingly. "Calm myself down."

Draco nodded absently, staring at him with narrowed eyes, and Theo gazed back at him, drew a breath to say something, then bit his lip and stopped. He shook his head, his wire-rimmed glasses slipping down his nose slightly, then moved past his friend to the door.

"Theo," Draco's voice sounded from behind him, and Theo stopped in the doorway, looking over his shoulder.

Draco was still staring at him, his silver eyes dark with a strange mixture of anger, sadness and pity. "Next time," the Malfoy heir said softly, "I'll hit you back."

Theo looked evenly at his friend, bit his lip, and nodded jerkily. He slipped out of the dormitory and let the door thud behind him, moving quickly across the common room, out into the hallway, and towards the main floor. In the entrance hall, he shoved by Longbottom, banging into the other teen, and grunted a simple "Watch it," as he continued on up the stairs to the astronomy tower.

He already hated this day, and he hadn't even done the hard parts yet.

Standing in the entrance hall, Neville reached into his pocket and drew out a white silk handkerchief, an entire corner stained with blood. On the opposite corner, small crimson dots scattered across the surface, embroidered in black thread were the letters 'TVN.'

Neville smiled and put the handkerchief carefully back in his pocket, heading quickly for the seventh floor.

Order Safehouse

Somewhere in Hampshire

Hermione glared across the table at the man who had tried to kill herself and her friends less than two weeks before. Beside her, Bill sat calmly, drawing out diagrams with a ballpoint pen as Brand watched with narrowed eyes. Harry was leaning against the wall by the door, his arms crossed across his chest and his wand dangling from his right hand, eyes fixed firmly on Brand.

"Will it work?" Bill asked suddenly, and she jerked her eyes away from Brand to look down at the spell diagram. She leaned forward curiously, running through the movements and symbols, and stared first at the parchment, then at Brand, then finally at Bill.

The insane spellcrafter was gazing at the parchment with undisguised glee, his eyes wide and his hands shaking so hard that the chains tying him to the table literally rattled. "Where do you plan to use this?" he asked softly.

"Malfoy Manor."

Brand jerked his head up, staring openly at Bill. For a long moment, the German was silent, then finally, he coughed, looked away, then looked back at Bill with narrowed eyes. "Do you still have my five-point field disruptor?" he asked, and Bill nodded. "Right. In my bronze chest, had a niffler etched into it, there's a clear teardrop shaped gem. That's an amplifier. You'll want to be holding that in your off-hand when you cast."

Bill nodded again, and Hermione felt a sharp sense of dread. Ignoring the rest of the room, Brand leaned over the parchment again and pointed at the second section of the diagram. "Here, where you have the u-shape, you'll want to make it more like a 'zeta' and then a heavy slash. That'll increase the power so you won't have to cast it as many times."

"You're sure?" Bill asked sharply, and the spellcrafter grunted.

"Oh yeah, son, this is definitely based of the ancient Greek eternals," Brand said absently. "You'll get the best results with that."

Bill frowned slightly, then nodded again.

"Where did you find this, anyway?" Brand asked, and Bill just looked at him. "Right."

"Wait a moment," Hermione cut them off. "Bill, how do you know that what he's telling you to do won't get you killed?"

Bill continued to look at Brand as he spoke. "Because if I die trying to do this, Shack is going to come here and kill him."

Hermione felt her mouth go dry, and her heart thudded in her throat. "Kingsley wouldn't – " she began to protest, her eyes wide and stinging.

"Kingsley would," Bill and Brand replied, almost at the exact same time.

"Brand here knows the only wat he's ever getting free is by cooperating," Bill continued, shooting a look at Hermione. "That's what happens to a war prisoner."

I warned you, the dark voice sounded in her mind, and Hermione swallowed. Looking up at her sharply, Bill shook his head. "When this is over, you and I need to talk," he said quietly, frowning at her.

Hermione stared.

"Okay," Harry cut in from behind. "So crazy spellcrafter who sliced my skull open then tried to slit my throat – "

Brand glared at him balefully. "I was helping you the first time, thank you very – "

"Thinks this will work?" Harry finished, ignoring him.

Bill raised an eyebrow at the German, and Hermione turned to stare at him questioningly as well.

"Yes," Brand grunted, his face sullen. He splayed his hands flat on the table, his eyes still fixed to the page.

Bill smiled. Hermione sighed, shoving her hair back from her face with a shaking hand. She glanced down at her hand as she pulled it back, frowning lightly at her skin. The glamour was fading faster than normal, she noticed. Her veins were already starting to stick out, tinged with blue against her pale hand. She'd have to slip away to fix it soon. Shaking her head, she leaned back over the parchment, her eyes travelling across the squiggles and lines. She tapped the parchment in the fourth quadrant, her eyes narrowed, and she pursed her lips as she gazed at the characters.

"Reverse these," she murmured, pointing to two symbols in the center. "And they'll feed off each other and make the spell less draining."

Bill looked where she was pointing and grinned, clapping her on the shoulder. Behind her, she heard Harry chuckle, but when she looked up, she saw Brand gazing at her with undisguised greed.

"Can I have this one, then?" the spellcrafter asked Bill conversationally.

Without looking up, the cursebreaker reached across the table and slammed his fist down on the back of Brand's open hand. An awful crunching sound echoed through the room, and the German let out a shout of pain, shaking his hand out as far as his shackles would allow him to move.

"You could have just said no," the man hissed, rubbing the fingers of his other hand across the now-broken bones, and Hermione felt her stomach turn.

Bill didn't even bother to reply, just pushed back his chair, gathered up the parchment, put a hand on Hermione's back, and nudged her to her feet. Harry opened the door and he pulled her from the room, Bill following right after. The cursebreaker sharply shut the door, plunging Brand into darkness.

"Right," Bill said simply, a vicious grin spreading on his face. "We have work to do, kids."