The Paths We Tread
Chapter 12:
Sudden the Lightning Flashed
Malfoy Manor
The outskirts of Malmesbury
Wiltshire, England
September 3, 1996
In the end, there was no point in waiting.
Harry had received a fair amount of protest when he had suggested putting Bill's plan into action immediately, but he had been adamant. Not only did they run the risk of Voldemort moving – and moving the student prisoners along with him – if they waited, but the element of surprise was on their side for the night. Who in their right mind would attack mere hours after one of their own escaped, after all? With so little time to plan, so little intel?
McGonagall and Shacklebolt – hell, most of the Order – had argued the exact point that they weren't prepared, but to Harry's shock, Moody growled out that he was right, the twin stone faces of Arthur Weasley and Rufus Scrimgeour nodding beside him. From that moment on, the die had been cast. They had established a rough plan – 'detailed plans never survive engagement anyway,' Ron had quipped, sounding like he was quoting Moody – had divided into teams, and had spent hours running drills to get familiar.
All the while, Harry and Bill practiced, and practiced, and practiced.
He stood in the darkness outside an ornate wrought iron gate, gazing across the lavish grounds. The grounds sloped gently into a hill, and atop the hill sat a sprawling stone manor house.
No wonder Malfoy was such an arrogant berk, Harry thought with a snort.
He had to admit, he was rather looking forward to this. The chance to finally do something, to finally strike a blow back.
He just wished he were there alone. He didn't want anyone else to be in danger.
Glancing to his right, he watched as Bill handed out supplies, passing one small rucksack to Hermione and another to Fleur, before reaching into the pocket of his leather jacket and pulling out a small metal disc and a large teardrop shaped crystal. Hermione gave Harry a small smile and slipped away to the right outside the gates, Lupin shadowing her. Fleur stopped for a moment, staring over at Harry, her often haughty features softened by the fear that was clear on her face. As Harry watched, the part-Veela let out a shaky breath, nodded once, and shot Harry a dazzling smile before kissing Bill on the cheek and striding off to the left. Amelia Bones followed on her heels, the stern witch looking even more impossibly serious as she scanned their surroundings constantly.
Only Bill was left standing behind him, looking at Harry with a calm that the younger man envied. The cursebreaker stepped forward and stopped directly beside Harry, clapping the Gryffindor teen on the shoulder with a steady hand. He reached into his other pocket and pulled out a silk handkerchief, wrapping the cloth around one of the wrought iron bars. A soft light flickered to life in the crystal in his hand, and Harry watched the man place the metal disk on the spot directly below the cloth. He pressed on the disk and it spun, the five sharp points curling into the metal bars. The center bubbled forward and a brilliant light appeared, a glowing lime green forcefield that surrounded the grounds like a giant dome.
Bill let out a sharp breath, and in the green glow, Harry could see Hermione's eyes widen, see Fleur looking worriedly between Bill and the manor. Bill's eyes flickered towards Fleur for a second, but he simply slid a knife across his right hand, then turned to Harry.
The wards bucked and hissed wildly, as if they were a thing alive, as if they understood. If anyone were inside, their element of surprise was gone now.
"Ready?" Bill asked in a low voice, and Harry nodded. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small dagger, slicing across his left palm, and linked hands with Bill. The sudden feel of a sharp pull in his chest made him gasp, but he gritted his teeth and stared straight ahead as Bill began to chant in low, urgent tones. The hissing grew louder, sparks shooting off the wards and landing at their feet, scorching the earth around them. Harry didn't move.
You'll need to be the battering ram and the shield, Harry, Bill had told him hours before. Your raw power added to mine can help me to get through the wards, then once we're inside, you'll be the one to activate what we leave behind. Remember what Dumbledore taught you.
Spots began to swim in front of his eyes as more and more power ebbed out of his body, and finally, cracks began to appear in the dome. The cracks spread, like the spider-webbing of shattered glass, and a sharp crack split the air as the wards crumbled, shards flying towards them. Harry threw up his hand, hastily throwing a shield over them, and as the glowing green fragments rebounded from the shield – one coming within a hairsbreadth of Bill's nose – he hoped desperately that Bones and Lupin had done the same.
The last tendrils of the wards melted slowly to the ground, falling like slow-floating feathers and vanishing the moment they touched earth. The sudden disappearance of their glow left Harry disoriented in the pitch black, and he let out a shaky breath as Bill shifted beside him.
Lights flared up in the manor.
He was up.
Slipping his wand from the holster, he strode forward and blasted aside the gates. The twisted metal flew across the ground and landed with a sharp clatter on a small cluster of rosebushes. Harry moved through the darkness without pause, scaling the hill and coming up the steps with Bill right behind him. Off to his right, Hermione and Lupin darted across the grounds, disappearing around the corner of a nearby wing. To his left, Fleur and Bones slipped around a garden and vanished.
He raised his hands to the ornate stone door and simply focused, and though his head began to pound, the door simply exploded, chunks of rock flying everywhere. Stepping across the threshold, he ignored the harsh shrieking sirens and the flashing lights of inner wards, all of them now tripped. Crossing the marble hallway quickly, he and Bill followed Mr. Weasley's directions and moved through the house, stopping in the infamous Malfoy drawing room. It took Bill only three tries to rip down the wards – they weren't trying to be stealthy any longer, after all, and based on the fact they hadn't been stopped, Harry was betting no one was in the house but elves.
For the sake of Hermione's sanity, he hoped the little creatures would get themselves to safety.
Bill set his not-yeti loose in the room, a large rucksack in the center of the space, and the creature began to zoom around the room, clearing shelves. Throwing caution to the wind, the cursebreaker leaped down through the trapdoor and after a few flashes of light, yelled to Harry to follow. Harry grimaced, his heart pounding in his ears, then vaulted down into the underground cavern, landing in an unsteady crouch.
Bill was already moving through the space, levitating cases and crates holding goblets, severed hands and all manner of awful things into the bag at his feet. Harry turned and began to summon the items on the opposite end, throwing a glance back over his shoulder as he did so.
"How long you reckon we have?"
"Until we're trapped?" Bill asked calmly. "Ten minutes, tops. He'll have to get permission, get off the grounds, apparate here, get inside…"
"And until we explode?" Harry countered.
Bill grinned. "Five."
"Right, then," Harry muttered. With a scowl, he pocketed his wand and raised his hands, closing his eyes and tilting his head back. He felt the surge rising up in his chest again and a rattling sounded around him – the air began to whip in the small cavern and he opened his eyes to see a small whirlwind racing through the space, sucking everything in before hovering over the bag and dropping everything inside. Bill gaped at him.
"When did you learn that?" Bill demanded, his eyes flashing with excitement, and Harry shrugged.
"Didn't. I made it up."
Bill stared.
"Well, Dumbledore said half of wandless magic is imagination," Harry said defensively, feeling a flush rise on his face. "I just focused on what I wanted to accomplish."
His guardian barked out a laugh, grinning at him wryly. "Right," he said with a shake of his head. With a jab of his wand, the rucksack floated up off the ground. "Come on, then," he called, and he levitated himself up through the trapdoor, turning and pulling Harry up after a quick check of the room. The not-yeti was finished its chores, racing over to Bill and Harry with its backend wagging a nonexistent tail. Bill levitated the second bag and they ran for the hallway, bolting to the front door of the manor.
A flash of an otter patronus rushed them from the right, a dove from the left, and Harry looked at Bill as an eerie calm spread over him. The cursebreaker nodded silently, and Harry braced himself against the doorframe, wrapping a shield around them. Beside him, Bill stepped forward, the teardrop crystal once again in his hand.
"Εγώ αποκαλώ τον καταστροφέα," Bill intoned, a blinding white light emanating from the crystal. The older man blinked as his skin began to blister. "Καλώ την μαγεία να κρίνει τις αμαρτίες σας. Για τα εγκλήματά σου, ζητάω ένα δώρο. Καθαγιάσει αυτό το έδαφος, ότι κανένας με σκοτεινή πρόθεση δεν μπορεί να τραβήξει δύναμη εδώ."
The crystal flared brighter, so brilliant the light that spots once again appeared in Harry's vision. As he watched, flames flared up around the crystal, scorching Bill's hand, and the unsettling blue sparks jumped from his skin to tangle with the flames. The cursebreaker's voice grew strained, sweat beading on his forehead, and Harry looked across the grounds as the sharp crack of apparition rent the air.
"Καθαγιάσει αυτό το έδαφος, ότι καμία σκληρότητα δεν θα ανθίσει εδώ. Έσπασες το λόγο σου. Τώρα πρέπει να πληρώσεις. Μαγεία, να παρευρεθείς!"
In Harry's mind, the words echoed in the rough English translation Hermione had given him. I call thee oathbreaker. I call upon magic to judge thee. For your sins, I ask a boon. Sanctify this ground, that none with dark souls may draw strength here. Sanctify this ground, that no cruelty shall flourish here. For your sins, I ask a boon. You are oathbreaker, now you must pay. Magic, attend!
A piercing shriek rose up around them, and the air grew heavy and cold. As Harry struggled to hold the shield, a seismic boom resounded, and the ground shook beneath his feet. The white fire had completely engulfed Bill's hand, and the flames leapt down to hover just above the ground, splitting into dozens of tiny balls of fire tearing across the threshold and into the house. Bill's knees buckled, and the cursebreaker fell to the ground.
Cutting through the darkness, Harry saw the brilliant red lights of Voldemort's eyes as the man glided towards them, Malfoy and a couple other Death Eaters hastening behind. Harry dove forward, wrapping an arm around Bill's still frame. As Bill moaned weakly, his head lolling to the side, Harry pulled him upright, then met Voldemort's eyes and smiled grimly.
Raising his wand with a smirk, he pointed straight up at the sky and whispered. A bolt of lightning shot out of the tip of his wand, bright white and blinding, and hung in the sky above the manor. From behind him, one of the fireballs soared past his shoulder and shot up to twine with the lightning bolt.
Harry wrapped his free hand around the pendant and thought roughly at Hermione, Now!
And he and Bill vanished from the steps of Malfoy Manor, the lightning bolt still shining down as Voldemort reached the spot where they had stood.
Five minutes earlier
Hermione had done dozens of crazy things in her time as Harry Potter's best friend, but she wasn't sure she had ever done anything quite as mad as this.
She crouched in the darkness, Professor Lupin standing guard over her, and placed the last charge against the walls. With a tap of her wand, the small block shook and grew, doubling then tripling in size, and Hermione nodded in satisfaction and stepped back.
She had to admit, she had no place calling this mad. Bill had wanted to attack Malfoy Manor and raid it at the same time. Harry had wanted to make it useless to Voldemort.
She had been the one to suggest this particular means of destruction. No matter that Voldemort had, at Lucius Malfoy's urging, used the same tactic on London Bridge. Hermione was willing to bet everything that the arrogant pureblood lord had never considered protecting his home against Muggle weaponry.
…fifty on each side wasn't excessive, was it?
With all her charges placed, Hermione turned to her professor and nodded, and the man wrapped an arm around her, Disapparating them to the rendezvous point. A tense moment later, Fleur and Madam Bones appeared, both gasping for breath.
"Here," Fleur wheezed, the immaculate blonde doubling over, hands on her knees and head hanging down. Hermione darted to her side, easing the older girl's arm over her shoulder, and looked at the part-Veela worriedly. "He's here."
Hermione fingered the button-trigger in her pocket, her face a grim mask. "Well," she murmured, "that was the goal."
"I suppose Malfoy felt the wards shatter after all," Lupin agreed, his eyes fixed on the darkened manor.
A sudden brilliant flare of white light shot up into the sky, illuminating the front steps, and Fleur gasped, jerking upright and clapping her hands over her mouth as they saw the gliding figure move steadily toward the pair on the steps. Suddenly, Harry's voice echoed in her mind Now!
Hermione squeezed the trigger.
The earth roared, one hundred individual stacks of C4 exploding all at once. Hermione stumbled as the hill shook beneath her feet and she felt Professor Lupin grab her arm to steady her. Falling back against the older man's side, she stared at the giant cloud of smoke that swirled above the earth, twining with the brilliant white light that still streamed down from the lightning bolt suspended above what had once been a stately manor. They must have – surely they had –
We're out, Harry's voice sounded through the pendant. Her best friend sounded exhausted, but triumphant. Bill's in a state, but we made it.
Hermione sagged in relief, pressing the back of her hand to her eyes as tears stung her vision.
"They're okay," she whispered, and Fleur let out a strangled cry before spinning on her heel, Bones shooting them a worried look before following. Hermione only hoped they remembered to do the three in-between jumps before heading to the cottage.
Still somewhat holding her up, Lupin squeezed her shoulder with his other hand. "Think it killed him?" he asked hopefully, his eyes still trained on the explosion site.
"No," Hermione replied simply.
She felt the professor nod behind her. "Me either," he said quietly. "I just hope we bought the others enough time."
Hermione thought of her friend, who had just stood on the brink of an explosion and looked danger in the eye. And the others, who were about to walk right into danger with their eyes wide open.
Suddenly Nevile's frantic voice echoed through the pendant and she let out a gasp, clapping a hand over her mouth as tears sprang to her eyes. She raised her wand and sent off a Patronus to Scrimgeour, her hands shaking. With a sharp breath, and shaking her head at a questioning Lupin, she closed her eyes and prayed to anything that might listen.
Please, let them all come home.
Nott Castle
Dover, Kent
England
The gate swung open with a soft creak, and Ron winced as the sound seemed to echo in the darkness like a gunshot. Theo Nott stood in front of him, the gangly teen's face set in a blank expression.
"Why the bloody hell does Malfoy swagger all over the place?" Ron asked with a scowl. "You live in a bloody castle."
Nott snorted, stepping back from the gate and waving him in. Ron walked through the gate, Moody on his heels with the paranoid ex-Auror glaring balefully around them. Right behind them were Vance and Hannah, with Sue, and Seamus falling in line. Terry Boot and Anthony Goldstein were studying their surroundings curiously, nudging each other and murmuring quietly. McGonagall and Charlie were the last through, a shaky looking Augustus Pye standing between them.
"They're gone," Nott said simply as the group filed in. "Whatever your mates did to draw them out, it worked. My house-elves say they left about five minutes ago."
Ron nodded tersely, and Moody grunted beside him. "Which ones?"
Nott hesitated. "Lestrange is in charge," he said in a whisper. "I think Crabbe and Goyle are still here somewhere, and Dolohov. The Carrow brother. A few other minor players."
"Light guard," Vance commented, shooting Moody a worried look, and the ex-Auror grunted again.
"Aye, sounds too good to be true," Moody growled. He stomped forward on his peg-leg, wand held steadily out in front of him. "Alright, lad, show us what you've found."
Ron tuned them out, turning his head to gaze around the courtyard. They stood in a lightly wooded garden which was surrounded by ridiculously high stone walls. Tilting his head back, he could see a shimmer in the air above, what Bill had taught him to watch for to detect powerful wards. Likely to keep someone from being able to fly over the walls. Dozens of suits of armor lined the inside of the walls, spaced out every four feet or so, wicked-looking spears held rigidly at their sides. He moved curiously across the grounds to the nearest suit, narrowing his eyes at the visor covering the empty helmet. Were they animate, like the ones at Hogwarts?
He stood and stared for a moment, but the suit never moved.
"I have to key you in," Nott was saying, and Ron felt someone move to his side and spun to glare distrustfully at the Slytherin teen. Nott just frowned at him, then led Ron to a spot on the far wall, just outside a narrow opening that was likely to entrance to the main keep. He grabbed Ron's wrist and pressed his hand to a small plate on the wall, tapping his wand and muttering something, and a flash of yellow spread from the wall into Ron's hand. It stung horribly, like a swarm of bees had gotten him all at once. Ron grimaced, shaking his hand out as he stepped back, and moved aside for the others to be keyed to the wards.
Sue Bones was next, then Hannah, McGonagall, and Moody, glowering around the compound with his fake eye spinning constantly. Nott had just gestured Charlie forward when a shrill voice cut through the darkness, and Ron felt a chill run down his spine.
"Ickle Theo," Bellatrix Lestrange crooned, and Ron and Charlie spun, glaring up at the eastern wall where Bellatrix sat, swinging her feet back and forth over the side. "Tiny baby traitor, what are you doing?"
Ron cut his eyes towards Nott as he felt the teen freeze. For a second, he wondered if the other boy had betrayed them, had lured them to a trap – but no. He was too obviously terrified. The color had drained from the boy's face, and his hands trembled at his sides.
"Now can I eat 'im?" a voice growled from behind them, and Ron and Moody spun to see Greyback crouching on the opposite wall, his teeth bared and his amber eyes glowing in the darkness. The werewolf growled low in his throat and looked across the courtyard, his eyes landing on Hannah. "Or that one," he whispered. "I smell blood on you, little girl. You smell delectable."
The werewolf jumped down from the walls, landing with a loud thud on the ground, and Sue jumped in front of Hannah, shoving her back as Charlie spun and made towards them. At the other end of the courtyard, by the gates where they had come in, Dolohov and Carrow stood.
"Where's your friend?" Dolohov asked with a frown, his eyes boring into Ron. "I was so hoping we would get to play tonight."
He felt a movement behind him, a soft rustling noise, and the sound of clanging metal rang out as the suits of armor sprang to life. Nott grabbed his arm, yanking him back through the entrance as the suits rushed forward, advancing on the Death Eaters. Six of them surrounded Greyback, two skewering him with their spears, and the monster howled angrily, swinging one clawed hand and knocking the suits aside. Nott all but dragged him down a hallway and behind a tapestry, and he could hear the others running behind them as they followed him and Nott through winding passages and down narrow steps. He could hear Bellatrix screaming angrily behind them, heard the sudden ringing of a gong…
"She took them down," Nott said tersely. "They'll be right behind us."
They turned another corner, torches flaring to life around them, and Nott skidded to a halt, abruptly releasing Ron's arm. The weedy Slytherin doubled over, panting, and braced one hand on a set of bars as he struggled to catch his breath. Nott leaned heavily on the bars and drew his wand, pointing it at the entrance behind them, and a large wooden door slid down from the ceiling, closing them in.
Behind him, Ron heard Moody growling at the others to split into pairs and check the cells. His mentor stomped up behind him, eyeing Ron and Nott silently.
"They're outnumbered," Moody said to Ron, scowling. "Not ideal, since most of you are kids, but – "
Nott was shaking his head, and Ron felt himself go cold as he heard a shout from just down the hall. "They're not," he whispered, and Moody glared.
"What do you mean, they're not?" the ex-Auror snarled. "It's basic maths, boy."
But Ron was staring at Nott, the pale boy's face twisted with guilt and fear. "The wards," he said slowly, and Nott turned his head to look at him, wincing slightly. "Why did you need to key us in? It wasn't to get inside, we're all in here."
Moody looked between the two of them and swore viciously. Bellatrix Lestrange's cackle sounded from the floor above.
"Fuck," Ron muttered, spinning on his heel. "Charlie! McGonagall! Hannah! Sue!"
His brother, professor, and classmates ran up, Sue holding a little girl on her hip. The tiny little girl, four at most, was covered in cuts and scrapes, blood caked on her side. Ron felt a surge of rage as he looked at the tiny thing, but he shook his head and scowled.
"The wards block magic if you're not keyed in. Charlie, none of you can do any spells," Ron said urgently. "Just me and Moody, McGonagall, Sue, Hannah and Nott."
"Well, fuck," Charlie muttered, and Hannah and Sue exchanged a worried look.
"Charlie, get back in there and grab as many as you can, Portkey out to the rendezvous," Moody growled. "Minerva, organize them and you and Abbott be ready to act as the second line of defense. We'll hold them off."
Sue nodded grimly, turning and handing the shaking little girl in her arms to Charlie. The little girl shrieked with fear, shaking and pounding her tiny fists on Charlie's shoulders. Ron watched as his brother closed his eyes, shaking his own self.
Then a clattering sounded behind them, and Charlie opened his eyes and nodded.
"Right, then, let's get to it," he said sharply, and he turned on his heel, carrying the little girl off down the hall with McGonagall and Hannah on his heels. Ron watched his brother disappear into the darkness then turned back to face Nott, Sue, and Moody.
"You can try to turn on us," Ron said conversationally to the Slytherin teen as Sue stepped up beside him. "But I'll kill you." Nott jumped, looking at him with undisguised terror, and Ron smiled grimly. "They've seen you. You were caught. What do you think they'll do to you?"
The Slytherin teen swallowed, his hands shaking at his side, but he jutted his chin forward, his eyes hardening. "I'd already decided I won't throw my lot in with them," he said evenly. "I won't hurt the innocent."
The door shook ominously before them. Ron eyed the heavy wooden door and shrugged lightly. He already knew what he needed to do. Moody had drilled a lot of tactics into his mind, but the one thing that had kept the Auror alive all this time was something that made no sense, yet seemed to work every time.
When outnumbered, attack.
"Well, let's go, then," Ron said with a feral grin. He nodded to Moody and stepped forward, Nott hesitating a moment before following. Behind them, Sue and Moody stepped a few paces to either side, Sue sliding closer to the end of the hallway leading down to the cells. "How's your battle spell knowledge?" he asked the other teen, and Nott grinned.
"I read a lot," he said simply, and Ron scoffed.
"Good." With a sharp jab of his wand, he blasted the wooden door away, and Nott jumped beside him. An angry shriek echoed through the halls, and Ron grinned again at the sight of Bellatrix Lestrange pulling wooden splinters from her bleeding face.
He dove forward through the doorway, Moody and Nott on his heels, and began to fight.
"Move it," Pye muttered tersely, his hands shaking as he crouched beside another child. Charlie had already sent the first little girl along with Goldstein, five other small children in tow. As the least combat-ready of all of them – aside from Nott, but it was his house – he was the first to be removed. They moved quickly through the dozens of cells, each of them holding two to three children, and Charlie felt a fire growing in his veins with every step.
What kind of monsters tortured children for kicks?
He glanced behind him to where the Abbott girl was standing in the hallway, eyes narrowed as she glared down the hall towards the sound of bangs, shouts, and screams. Charlie winced as he heard his little brother's yell, but he forced himself to focus.
"This one will live," Pye said with a shaky sigh, removing his fingers from the pulse point of a pre-teen boy and standing quickly. "You," he gestured, and Terry Boot rushed forward. "Take her with the ones you've gathered. Get out of here. Tell Poppy she needs a nerve regenerative immediately."
Boot swallowed, his face pale and his mouth set in a thin line, and nodded. A little boy of about six was already hanging from his back, one arm clinging desperately to his shoulders and the other dangling at an odd angle. A little girl of maybe ten with burn marks on her face had a hand fisted in her robes, and an Asian girl about Ron's age was leaning heavily on his side, a tiny little brunette three year old in her arms. As Charlie watched, Boot turned his head slightly to whisper to the little boy that was hanging off him.
"Hey, Nicky," the teen said soothingly, his voice trembling slightly, and Charlie felt a flash of pride. "Can you reach into my pocket and grab the paperweight there?"
The little boy nodded slowly, tears sliding down his dirt-covered face, and reached down, pulling out a small globe paperweight from Boot's pocket. Terry knelt on the ground next to the unconscious boy, and the Asian girl pushed the preteen girl forward. A second later, both of their hands were resting on Terry's shoulders. McGonagall stepped forward, her mouth set in a thin line, and tapped the Portkey with a scowl.
The small group vanished.
"How many more?" Hannah called back over her shoulder sharply, and Charlie scowled.
"Finnegan just took out ten," he said. "They were all relatively uninjured, so they were able to hold on themselves and form a human chain. Goldstein had six, Boot just took five more. Vance took the worst injured, the first seven. There are at least ten left."
"Dean?" Hannah asked.
"Back here!" a voice called, and Charlie spun as McGonagall and Pye looked up sharply. A shadow moved down the hall and the wiry black boy came into view, his face split in a relieved grin.
"How the bloody hell – ?" Pye asked, and Dean's grin widened.
"Picked the lock," Dean said simply. "I heard you."
Charlie let out a startled laugh and shook his head. He shoved by Pye without a word, walking up to the younger boy and clapping him on the shoulder. Dean winced, and Charlie grimaced in sympathy.
"The ones there," Dean pointed to the cell next to the one he had just escaped, "they were taken most recently. And in mine is Mandy and a couple other little kids, they're in bad shape."
"Why aren't you?" McGonagall asked sharply, her eyes narrowed on him. "Not that I'm not happy to see you mostly intact, Thomas, but – "
"I'm not sure," Dean frowned. "For some reason, they never really touched me aside from the odd curse here and there."
Charlie shot a worried look at McGonagall, and the Gryffindor head pursed her lips.
"We don't have time for this," Pye cut in, his hands trembling as another crash sounded behind them.
"You're right," Charlie said simply. "We're running out of people, and McGonagall has to stay to activate the Portkeys. Pye, why don't you take the next group, Dean, you grab a few as well." He handed each of them a paperweight and they nodded sharply, turning and setting off further down the hall. McGonagall shook her head lightly and followed. "Hannah," Charlie added, spinning around to face the teen. "We're almost done, you should take a few kids and get out of here yourself."
Hannah hesitated, frowning at him. "What about you?" she asked softly, and Charlie grinned lopsidedly at her.
"I have to go get my brother."
Sue's heart was pounding in her ears as she ducked, spinning quickly as she came out of the crouch and shooting another stunner at the man before her. The older version of Gregory Goyle grunted as he fell, his head cracking off the stone floor. A pool of blood began to form under his skull, and Sue grimaced.
She'd lost sight of the others a while before, now and then seeing flashes of red hair as Ron darted across the hall, hearing the thud of Moody's peg leg, so she knew they were still standing. Those four Death Eaters had quickly called reinforcements, but so far, Nott had been right. Aside from Lestrange and Greyback, it had all been minor players.
Then a man stepped through the doorway in front of her, his kohl-lined eyes raking up and down her body, and Sue smiled grimly. Hannah had described him perfectly.
"You must be Scabior," she said calmly, twirling her wand in her hand as the man leered. "I've heard of you."
"Have you, love?" the man sneered, licking his lips as he looked her over. He stepped slowly closer, his hands held up to either side of him and a wicked grin on his face. "My reputation precedes me, does it?"
Sue's heart thudded impossibly harder in her chest as he came within arm's reach. "You killed my best friend's family," she continued, and the vile man chuckled.
"I've killed a lot of people's families, love," he said softly, "you're going to have to be more specific."
"Two four-year-old boys," she hissed, "a nine-year-old, a father."
The man stared at her blankly, inching closer, then suddenly smiled. "Oh, Hannah!" he exclaimed delightedly. His grin stretched wider, and Sue struggled to keep her breathing even as she moved, widening her stance as she stood in the middle of the hallway. "How is the poppet? I've been meaning to pay her a visit."
Sue snarled, slashing her wand through the air. "Diffindo," she hissed, and the man's throat split open, blood gushing out from under his chin as his eyes widened. Blood sprayed her face and her robes as the Death Eater fell to his knees. She watched stonily as he reached up, grabbing at his throat with one hand as he gurgled helplessly.
Then he was silent.
A low chuckle split the air and she looked up into the amber eyes of Fenrir Greyback. The werewolf was leaning casually against the wall, teeth bared, and he looked down at Scabior with undisguised glee. "Fool boy needs to learn not to play with his food," he growled, and Sue felt a chill run down her spine. She could see the back of Nott's head, but he was too far away, and Ron and Moody were nowhere in sight. She heard another crash ahead, heard Ron yell, and she backed up a step as Greyback moved towards her.
He was getting to Hannah over her dead body, she thought grimly.
He might, a voice in the back of her mind whispered, and Sue swallowed, raising her wand in a suddenly shaking hand.
Greyback smiled, clicking his teeth together, and stepped forward. Suddenly, his head snapped to the side and he narrowed his hateful amber eyes, sniffing at the air. With a rough swipe of his arm, he threw Sue against the wall and she gasped as her head slammed off the stone.
Seconds later, a man's scream echoed through the air. Charlie, she realized with a flash of horror, and she shot to her feet, wobbling slightly as the room spun around her head. She spun around and bolted down the hall, skidding to a halt as she saw Greyback leaning over Charlie Weasley's prone form. The werewolf had his hand around Charlie's throat, and blood seeped between his fingers. Sue swallowed down bile and raised her wand.
Another cutting curse flew threw the air, but Greyback was faster than the last, dodging to the side with inhuman speed. The curse clipped his shoulder and he roared with anger, spinning around to run at her. Sue ran towards him, diving to the ground at the last second, and rolled under his arm – just like training, she thought inanely as her head swam and spots appeared in front of her eyes. She came up in a crouch beside Charlie and grabbed the Portkey from his pocket as Greyback swung back around, pressing her hand to the open wound on Charlie's throat. She tucked the Portkey between her now-bloody fingers and levelled her wand on Greyback again, this time blasting him off his feet, then whispered "Portus."
And held on for dear life.
Ron ducked under a jet of orange light and spun, firing off a concussion curse with one hand as he stabbed a nearby Death Eater in the throat with his dagger in the other. Their 'minor players' had outnumbered them six to one within minutes, random Death Eaters he'd never seen or heard of pouring into the fray from every direction. He'd long since lost sight of Sue and Hannah and hadn't heard a sound from the hallway behind them for a while.
Ahead of him, he saw Moody battling Lestrange and Dolohov single-handedly, the brilliant flares of light from their constant spellwork hurting his eyes. To his right, Nott was holding his own – though the Slytherin teen had been exaggerating about his battle spells, Ron thought with a snort. He seemed to be awfully reliant on stunners.
There'd been no sign of Voldemort, Malfoy, the Lestrange brothers – he prayed that meant Harry and Hermione and Bill had succeeded. They only needed to stall a few more minutes.
And hey, if he thinned the heard a bit, all the better, right? As he grinned viciously, Amycus Carrow collapsed in front of him, clutching at the now gaping hole in his side.
Then suddenly, it was too quiet. The two Death Eaters that had been creeping towards him straightened and backed away quickly. A glance around the hallway showed all of the Death Eaters backing off, forming a small ring around them. Dolohov was nowhere to be seen. And Moody stood in the center, eyes locked on an unusually solemn Bellatrix Lestrange.
Ron saw Nott shoot him a confused look out of the corner of his eye, and the Slytherin moved carefully to his side.
"Ron," Moody's voice cut through the room in a low echo of his usual growl. "Get the others and get out."
"What?" Ron gaped, staring at his mentor. They'd been winning, or at least holding their own. Why – ?
Then he felt Nott tense beside him, heard the Slytherin's sharp intake of breath, and followed his gaze to the strange, whirring golden contraption in Lestrange's hand.
Moody looked over his shoulder at Ron with his good eye, his fake one still trained on Lestrange. "I'm proud of you, boy," the ex-Auror said quietly. "I've never had a better student. Now go."
Sue Bones' Patronus raced into the room, a silvery fox leaping up onto his shoulder and echoing All clear. As Ron watched, Bellatrix grinned wickedly, and Moody shook his head.
"No," Ron said shakily, moving forward. "No."
"Nott!" the ex-Auror barked, and Ron felt the other teen band his arms around him, slipping the Portkey from his pocket. Ron growled, swinging his head back to headbutt the Slytherin, and suddenly, he felt the whirling sensation of an activated Portkey. As they vanished from the room, he saw Moody point his wand towards the ceiling.
They landed in a tangle and crashed to the ground, Ron growling angrily as he shoved Nott off himself and shot to his feet. He ignored the terrified cries of the kids around him, the shouts of his fellow DA members, and made for the door to the Shack, his face set in a grim mask. He had to get back there. He had to –
A pair of soft plump arms wrapped around him from behind, and Ron strained as his mother pulled at him from behind. A second set of hands joined in and Ron growled even more loudly. As he struggled, a flash of silver shot before his eyes.
"No!" he yelled. "No, I have to go back! We left him there – we left – "
Tonks came into view in front of him, her usually playful face stricken. "Ron," she said softly, and Ron snarled again, kicking as Pye and someone else – Seamus – moved forward to help the others pull him back. "Ron, he's gone."
"No," Ron whispered. "No."
The fight died out of him and he went limp, and he heard a grunt as the arms that had been holding him back now tried to hold him up. Tonks moved forward and he let out a ragged sob, collapsing to his knees. Through the haze of building tears, he saw her bite her lip, glancing up at someone and shaking her head, then she knelt on the floor with him. The arms that had been holding him up let go, and he pitched forward, his head falling on Tonks' shoulder. She wrapped her arms around him, and they crouched there together on the floor, a stunned silence falling over the Shrieking Shack as they wept together for their fallen mentor.
Five minutes earlier
Moody felt time freeze as he stared at the device in Lestrange's hand. Christ. How many kids were still in the building? How many had they gotten out?
Dolohov slinked back and up the stairs with a wink, and Moody focused on Lestrange's face. The madwoman was grinning wickedly, her eyes sparkling.
"Surrender," she hissed. "Or I turn those ickle little fighters into goo."
He'd seen a trinket like the one she held once, in Russia. It had turned a city block to a pile of ash in seconds.
And he was fairly certain Lestrange was crazy enough to use it. No matter that she'd die along with them.
"Ron," he said lowly, "get the others and get out."
One of the Death Eaters nearest the Weasley kid started to move forward, and Bellatrix shot the man a poisonous look. He stepped back.
"What?" Ron asked incredulously from behind him, and Moody looked back at the boy with his real eye, his fake one still trained on Lestrange's face. The poor kid looked baffled, horrified, his eyes as huge as dinner plates in his face.
Moody gazed for a moment at the kid, the youngest son of a dear friend, who had seen horror after horror in his mind for months and had still fought against the darkness without ceasing. All from the tender age of eleven. He was sure the boy had no idea what he was on the way to becoming – but Moody saw it. Moody had seen it from the first time he'd stood across a dueling platform from the kid.
"I'm proud of you, boy," he said quietly, his voice choked up. If he could still cry, he imagined his eye would be watering right now. "I've never had a better student. Now go."
A fox Patronus slammed into the room as Ron stared at him blankly, and the Bones girl's even voice rang out All clear.
Bellatrix grinned wickedly, a soft giggle slipping from her lips. "He could stay, too," she whispered teasingly. "I've always wanted a baby boy." Moody just shook his head, his good eye still trained on Ron. Like hell.
"No," the kid was whispering, and he started to move forward. "No."
"Nott!" Moody barked, glaring at the weedy kid, and the boy jumped forward, half-tackling Ron from behind. As Moody watched, the Slytherin boy grabbed Ron's Portkey and even as Ron tried to headbutt the other kid, they disappeared in a swirl of color.
Moody closed his eye, sagging in relief, then turned back to Lestrange with a grim smile.
The Death Eaters began to hoot and cackle around him, the entire lot slowly moving forward to bunch tightly around them, and Moody smiled even wider. Bellatrix, the loon, didn't seem to sense the danger, instead smiling brightly back at him.
"Alastor Moody," she whispered almost lovingly. "My Lord will be so happy to see you."
Moody just chuckled darkly. Raising the wand they hadn't yet bothered to take from him, he pointed it straight to the ceiling and whispered, "Bombarda."
As the ceiling caved in on them, as the Death Eaters shouted and Bellatrix screamed around him, Moody shot off one last Patronus before darkness took him.
I got her for you, Dora. Take care of the boy.
Azkaban Isle
Somewhere in the North Sea
Neville swallowed nervously as he stared out at the rocky island, jutting up out of the sea. It was bloody freezing there, and as he watched, his breath turned to vapor before him. In the back of his mind, he could hear a high, cackling laugh, a man sobbing, a woman's screams.
He hated Dementors more than any other creature or being on Earth.
Beside him, Arthur Weasley stood stoic, his eyes fixed on the towering prison ahead. The twins flanked them, for once silent and serious, so pale that their freckles almost glowed in the darkness. Beneath their feet, the rickety little boat bobbed ominously, the icy sea spray soaking them with every movement forward.
Rufus Scrimgeour was at the helm of their tiny boat, his tawny eyes unblinking as he gazed across the shoreline. As Neville watched, the man shot off a single spell toward the coast, and it stopped just three feet away from the land, hovering in the sky above the shore. The gold light hovered there, then seemed to burst into dozens of small, glowing golden stars. Scrimgeour tapped the side of the boat and it sped up, and within minutes, they were stepping onto the shores of Azkaban.
Neville stepped up behind the other four men and looked around with a frown, his wand clenched between his frozen fingers. To send only five to Azkaban was madness, he knew, but then – they weren't there to fight.
While the vast majority of Death Eaters were occupied by their friends, they were there for reconnaissance.
Arthur tapped Neville on the shoulder and he started, jerking his head around to meet the older man's patient gaze. Neville nodded and followed as Arthur led him off to the right, in the direction of a small stone building that looked almost like guards' quarters. Behind them, Scrimgeour set off with the twins in the other direction, all of them stone-faced and silent.
They slipped into the quarters as the chill grew impossibly heavier. Neville gathered up every book and artifact he found, acting on Bill's instruction, but the Weasley patriarch scanned through the rooms with his eyes narrowed, opening every drawer and cupboard before finally letting out a triumphant hiss. Neville shot the older man a questioning look and his best friend's father shot him a mischievous grin. Reaching into the hollowed-out bottom of a drawer, he pulled out a tightly rolled parchment, and shook it out to reveal a perfect, detailed map.
"Yes," Neville hissed, and Mr. Weasley nodded.
Then a voice cut through the room, and Arthur Weasley went colder than Neville had ever seen.
"Art."
Arthur put a hand on Neville's arm, stilling the boy when he would have spun around. Moving slowly, he handed Neville first the map, then the small globe paperweight from his pocket. Neville clenched one fist around the two items, his wand clenched in the other, and gritted his teeth as Arthur Weasley turned, pushing Neville behind him.
"Augustus," Mr. Weasley said evenly, his mouth twisting in a grimace, and Neville started as he stared at the solemn face that belonged to Augustus Rookwood.
"Art, you shouldn't be here," the Death Eater said urgently. Carefully, Neville slipped the map and portkey into his pocket, straightening his wand as he stared at the man. To his shock, Rookwood actually looked alarmed, upset even, and he heard Mr. Weasley let out a low, bitter laugh.
"That's a laugh," the Weasley patriarch said quietly, shaking his head. "Neither should you."
"This is my home," Rookwood replied, shuffling forward slightly. "Artie – "
"Stay right where you are," Arthur said sharply, raising his wand and pointing it at the other man, and Neville just froze there, looking back and forth between the two.
Rookwood looked almost confused. The Death Eater gazed at Arthur's wand and licked his lips, his eyes darting to Arthur's face. "I never told, Artie," he said urgently. "Never. The Dark Lord didn't know until Croaker told Pius and Fudge. I kept your secret."
"What do you want, Augie, a gold star?" Mr. Weasley scoffed, his voice going low and cold. Neville stared.
This was not the version of Ron and Ginny's dad that he knew.
"I – " Rookwood began, licking his lips again and darting his eyes over to Neville. Mr. Weasley reached behind himself and gently shoved Neville back a few paces, moving him closer to the window on their left. "I heard you've got Brand working for you again, Art, you can't trust him!"
Mr. Weasley barked out a laugh. "Trust," he whispered. "How dare you talk about trust."
"Art, you need to go. Now." Rookwood replied. His eyes darted to Neville's face again and he paled, shooting a glance back over his shoulder.
"If you think I'm leaving you free to hurt another innocent, you've lost what little mind you have left," Arthur Weasley hissed. "No, Augie, I have to take you in."
"I'm not – "
Neville stiffened as he saw a familiar face appear across the rocks. As the other figure stalked closer, he gritted his teeth. "Mr. Weasley," he muttered, "we need to – "
A flash of orange light shot past Rookwood, and the other man shouted as Arthur collapsed, blood pouring from a huge gash on the side of his face. Neville jumped forward, diving between Mr. Weasley and Rookwood, but he needn't have bothered. The Unspeakable turned Death Eater had spun around angrily, hissing invectives and flinging curses in the direction of a confused Rodolphus Lestrange.
"Go!" Rookwood thundered, grabbing blindly for Neville. He closed his fist around Neville's upper arm and shoved, and Neville stumbled backwards, wrapping his arms around Mr. Weasley. He reached for the Portkey and whispered the activation, and Rookwood let out a bitter laugh.
"Portkeys don't work here, kid, levitate him and run!" the Death Eater hissed, and as he watched, the terrifying man stalked forward out of the guard house, a pair of Dementors appearing from out of nowhere and flanking him. They advanced on Lestrange, the confused Death Eater having quickly adapted and started flinging curses at Rookwood instead. Behind the unlikely savior, Neville quickly levitated Mr. Weasley's prone form and rushed for the boat, his hands shaking the whole while. As he ran, he grabbed his pendant and called to Hermione, begging her to send a Patronus to Scrimgeour as his wand was rather occupied.
As shouts echoed behind him, he crested a sharp, rocky hill and slid down to the bottom, gritting his teeth to keep from losing his hold on Mr. Weasley. To his right, Scrimgeour and the twins appeared, their faces grim, and George ran forward and bodily lifted his dad from Neville, climbing into the boat with the older man held carefully in his arms. Fred jumped in and tapped his wand on the side of the boat as Neville clambered in shakily behind them, Scrimgeour standing on the shore with his back to them, watching their surroundings with narrowed eyes. After a moment's silence, the Auror jumped into the boat, and Fred sent them speeding off into the sea.
"Did you get anything?" Scrimgeour barked at Neville, and the teen reached into his pocket and pulled out the map.
The Auror smiled.
Astronomy Tower
Hogwarts
Luna stood atop the tower, gazing out over the lake. Her little moth sentry hovered by her side, the small golden creature doing figure-eights in the air around her and buzzing merrily.
Luna was not feeling very merry.
They had agreed that one of them needed to be at the school at all times, and Ginny wasn't exactly up to keeping an eye on things. But that didn't mean that she didn't wish she could be out there, could be with her friends.
The DA that wasn't quite battle-ready enough had stayed behind to patrol the school, reporting to Luna every hour. Ernie MacMillan had stayed up all night so far, the Hufflepuff patrolling every shift instead of just his assigned hour segment. Luna understood. All of his friends were in danger, too.
Ernie would be a good man one day, if he could ever get rid of the blubbering humdingers that crowded his head.
The smell of cherry cigars wafted on the breeze, and Luna turned her head to see Kingsley Shacklebolt walk up beside her, a cigar clenched between his teeth. He glanced down at her and tried to smile reassuringly, and Luna sighed.
"They're alright," she reassured him instead, and Shacklebolt raised an eyebrow.
"How do you know?"
Luna smiled.
"Hermione is fine, if a little tired and shaken. Harry is exhausted and his hands hurt, and so does his head, but he's not injured. Very worried, however. Neville is confused and achy, and he saw something he doesn't know how to process. Ron is uninjured, but heartbroken and miserable." There, she frowned. "We lost someone."
"And Ginny's finally asleep," she added as Shacklebolt stared at her, "but I think she's having nightmares. I'll go check on her in a minute and cuddle with her. That usually helps."
The burly Auror was practically radiating discomfort, and Luna bit her lip and turned away, her eyes unfocused as she stared out across the grounds again. "Luna," Shacklebolt said slowly. "Are you an empath?"
Luna hummed to herself, the moth diving into her hair to hide.
Shacklebolt blew out a heavy breath, his discomfort giving way to the sense of sadness. "That must be exhausting," he murmured, and Luna smiled.
"I love people," she said quietly, glancing up at him. "I don't mind." She twirled one of her raddish earring in circles, staring out over the grounds contemplatively. "I do wish Hermione would tell the others," she continued. "Ron and Neville are starting to realize something is wrong."
Shacklebolt stiffened, a harsh breath hissing between his clenched teeth. Luna frowned at him worriedly, then straightened up suddenly, her eyes fixed on the Shrieking Shack. Her hand slipped to her communication pendant and she heard Ron's voice tiredly echoing in her mind.
"We need to get the Room of Requirement ready," Luna told Shacklebolt lightly. "They are about to start moving everyone up."
Turning around, she made her way back into the castle, humming softly to herself.
All of her friends had made it home.
Shell Cottage
Timworth, Cornwall
Harry paced anxiously in the living room as low voices sounded from the room above. They'd been back for ages, it felt like, and Bill still hadn't woken. The man lay perfectly still in his bed upstairs, not even his eyelids flickering. His skin was so pale it almost seemed translucent.
He was breathing normally. There were no open wounds, save the small cut on his hand where they'd done the bloodletting. He hadn't been hit by any spell.
Harry didn't understand why the man wouldn't wake.
Pomfrey and Pye were busy, overloaded with patients from the rescue at Nott Castle, and as far as he knew, they wouldn't be able to make it for hours. Fleur was still upstairs, crouching over Bill's prone form, whispering quietly to him. Harry hadn't been able to stand it any longer and left the room and had been pacing in the living room for hours.
Hermione had looked at him and bitten her lip, tears welling in her eyes, then turned on her heel and walked out of the house. Harry hadn't even spoken up, hadn't turned around, just kept pacing.
Suddenly, the screen door banged open behind him, and Harry spun around to see Hermione walking back into the house, a trio of people behind her. The smallest man was in the front, an olive-skinned Frenchman who was glowering around the room. Behind him was a tall, slender girl with dark purple hair, and a burly man with a buzzcut and a huge scar running from his hairline, down across his eye, and to his jaw.
"Upstairs," Hermione murmured, and she jerked her head at Harry, who stared at her, stunned.
"Hermione," he said slowly, "who are these people?"
She shook her head and bolted up the stairs, the purple-haired woman right on her heels. Harry drew his wand and scowled, eyeing the other two men a moment before he ran up after her.
If Hermione had gone mad and brought total strangers into the house, he'd risk being cursed in the back to get to Bill and Fleur in time.
But when he reached Bill's room, to his shock, the purple-haired woman was hugging Fleur gently, and the Frenchwoman was crying on her shoulder. Harry stopped inside the doorway, raising an eyebrow at Hermione, and the girl just shrugged.
"Fleur asked me to," she said quietly, as the two strange men entered the room behind him.
"You must be Harry," the purple-haired woman said suddenly, turning away from Fleur and smiling at him. She was very pretty, Harry noticed, and she actually looked rather familiar as well. The woman's grin turned rather impish as Harry flushed. "I'm Alex."
"Lex, stop flirting with the kid," the buzzcut man groaned, and Alex grinned even wider.
"One of my cousins is in your year, actually; Daphne," she said to Harry, and Harry nodded absently. What did that matter? Were they here to help Bill or to talk about his classmates?
"Right," Alex said suddenly, shaking her head, "boys, spread out and find it. He'd have to keep it nearby; try his workshop first."
"You can't get in – " Harry started, and the small Frenchman chuckled, clapping Harry on the shoulder as he turned and went back down the stairs. The buzzcut man followed as Alex sat on the edge of Bill's bed, drawing her wand and casting charms at his guardian.
"Zey are Beel's teammates, 'Arry," Fleur said softly, her eyes shining with tears. "I tought perhaps zey could help heem."
"And we probably can," Alex said quietly, not looking up. "Hermione, you said he did a massive cleansing ritual earlier?"
"Yes," Hermione said immediately.
"Have any of you seen his fingers give off blue sparks?"
Harry stared, a sudden dread forming in the pit of his stomach. "What's happening to him?" he demanded.
The mystery woman glanced over at Fleur and frowned. "That's… not for me to say," she said slowly, and Fleur glared back at her, tossing her head haughtily.
"Beel and I do not 'ave seecrets," Fleur declared, her accent thickening in her anger.
Alex was silent.
The sound of the front door slamming echoed through the house and two pairs of boots thundered up the stairs. The two men swept back into the room, one of them holding a small crystal vial. Harry stared. The liquid inside was the exact same color as the blue sparks that he'd seen coming from Bill's hands.
Without a word, the larger man handed Alex the vial, and she uncorked it, reaching down and forcing Bill's mouth open and pouring the contents in his mouth. Immediately, she jumped up, backing away from the bed. Bill went even more impossibly still, then suddenly he gasped, his body seizing, and bolts of blue lightning erupted from his hands, the current sparking and shooting all over his body. Fleur screamed, jumping forward, but Alex rounded the bed and grabbed the smaller woman, dragging her back.
"'e won't 'urt me!" Fleur gasped, struggling to get free as tears rolled down her face. On the bed, Bill's body continued to seize, his eyes still closed. Harry reached out and grabbed Hermione without thinking, pulling her into his chest and back towards the wall, and his best friend buried her face in his chest, sobbing as Harry stared at his guardian.
"No," Alex grunted out as she held Fleur back. "He'll hurt himself trying not to hurt you."
The current suddenly vanished, and the heavy scent of ozone hung in the air as the freak lightning storm reduced to a few stray sparks shooting between Bill's fingertips. The group stared at him silently, before Alex let go of Fleur's arms and rounded the bed again. Bill's teammate sat next to his pillow as Fleur bent over his other side, gently clasping one of his still-sparking hands.
Slowly, Bill opened his eyes and stared at Fleur, then glanced over at Harry, a look of intense relief crossing his face.
Then he saw the group in his room, and his face darkened.
"What the hell are you lot doing here?" he asked, and Alex grinned as the small Frenchman scowled. Hermione slowly peeked around Harry's arm.
"You're welcome," the purple-haired woman said cheerfully, and Bill sighed, shooting her a look before giving her a small smile.
Alex smiled back, the look fading slowly as she looked down at Bill. "We can still fix this, you know," she said softly, and Bill scowled.
"No."
"But – "
Bill sighed tiredly. Slowly, he squeezed Fleur's hand where it was still wrapped around his. "This is the fix, Alex; it's the best it's going to get."
"Doubt it," the burly man said in a thick Aussie accent, and Bill shot him a glare.
"We've been in Peru, Deacon and me," Alex continued, and Bill looked back at her, brow furrowed. "Looking for a cure."
Bill let out another heavy sigh. "There are consequences for everything, Alex. This is mine," he said simply. He flexed the fingers of his free hand and glanced down at his fingertips as everyone in the room watched him silently. "Some good should come of – "
"She was my friend, too," Alex whispered, and Bill's face shuttered.
Turning his head, Bill looked straight to Harry. "Has everyone reported in?" he asked. With a slightly shaking arm, Bill pushed himself into a seated position then turned to sit on the edge of the bed, raising Fleur's hand to his lips and kissing her knuckles.
Harry stared back at him a moment, then shook himself. "Yeah. Rescued every prisoner they found from Nott Castle. We lost Moody." A look of grief flitted across Bill's face, and Harry bit his lip as the Auror's gruff voice sounded in his mind. "Everyone else made it back okay. Your dad was hurt on Azkaban but he's apparently fine. No other major injuries."
"So we got lucky," Bill muttered, and Harry glanced at Hermione, who was biting her lip.
The Frenchman was muttering darkly, and Bill shot him a poisonous look. "Why the bloody hell are you doing this?" the small man grumbled. "Do you want to put us all in an early grave?"
Silently, Harry agreed with the grouchy Frenchman.
"Lou, I didn't know you cared," Bill grinned back at the man, shrugging. "Look, you two need to stop trying to find me a cure. If you want to help me, you can help him." He gestured at the still grumbling Frenchman, who stared at him blankly. "There's some things we're working on."
"If this is still about…" Deacon began, his eyes narrowed, and Bill smiled at him innocently.
The purple-haired woman glanced over at Harry and Hermione, then Fleur, then looked back to Bill.
"Well, we're already here," she said simply, shrugging one slender shoulder. "So what's the mission, ace?"
Bill grinned at Harry, then winked. "Wanna help us find an ancient fortress?"
Tonks Cottage
Sandalwood Bay, Scotland
Rufus sat gingerly in the squashy armchair, his eyes fixed on his old friend's face. He waited silently, watching the other man's chest rise and fall with his slow steady breaths. Taking in the perfectly unmarred flesh of his face. The disappearance of the old scar on his jaw by his right ear.
Arthur stirred suddenly, bolting upright when he realized he wasn't alone. The Weasley patriarch sagged back against the headboard when he saw Rufus, a small grimace crossing his face.
"You should be dead, Art," Rufus said without preamble.
Arthur just looked back at him.
"What was in the chest, Arthur?"
Silence.
Rufus scowled, stretching out his legs and propping his ankles up on the end of Arthur's bed. "When you stuck that thing in your skin, whatever it was," he said lightly, "all of your rather severe injuries immediately vanished. You had literally cooked your internal organs, trying to control the overpowered Fiendfyre you cast. You were dying, did you know that?"
A muscle ticked in Arthur's jaw as the man stared straight ahead.
"But you stick that thing in your arm and," he snapped his fingers, "you're in perfect health again." Rufus dropped his feet back to the floor and leaned forward, staring steadily at his old friend and colleague. "What is it, Arthur? Did you go back and get it after we hid it together?"
"No," Arthur said suddenly, still staring at the wall. His friend raised one hand and tiredly rubbed at his forehead, closing his eyes. "No, it must – " He opened his eyes suddenly, letting out a shaky breath. "Some of my blood must have seeped through the chest. Of course."
"I need to know, Art," Scrimgeour said urgently.
Arthur turned his head and looked at him. "I need to go check on Molly," he said calmly, pushing up from the bed. Rufus moved to block his path.
"Did it just heal you, Arthur?" he asked quietly. "Or did it take you over, too?"
"I am very much alone in here," Arthur murmured, a wry smile on his face. Scrimgeour stared at his old friend, eyes narrowed.
"How do you know?" he demanded.
"It's my job to know," Arthur replied, pushing past him. He moved to the door and stepped out into the hallway, whistling softly to himself.
"You never let anyone help you, you know!" Rufus called after him, his face twisted with scowl.
Arthur stopped on the landing, glancing back over his shoulder. Rufus stared at his friend, and strangely, he relaxed slightly when he saw the flash of sorrow in his friend's eyes.
Yes, Arthur was still in there. What was doing this to him, on the other hand?
"Every decision has consequences," Arthur said softly. "This is mine."
And turning his back on his old friend, Arthur disappeared down the stairs.
Scrimgeour stood alone in the room, staring at the door where his friend had stood, and a feeling of dread formed in the pit of his stomach.
~*~ALIBI