A/N: I apologize in advance to anyone named Hugo. I'm sure you are awesome and your parents had nothing but good intentions. As for the R/Hr pairing… Ron and Hermione can be cute. They can be absolutely precious together. Ron and Hermione, having grown as they have so far in this story, are not suited for each other, and they know it. You'll see. (aaaabatteries, I swear this was written before your review!)
Also, Katherine M, like I said… about that. Muahaha.
The Paths We Tread
Chapter 14: But Iron Sacrifice
The Black Lake
Hogwarts
September 7, 1996
"I can't believe we haven't found anything yet," Ginny muttered darkly, glaring out over the churning waters beneath them. She sat on the edge of the bridge, feet swinging over the side, and rested her forehead against the rail. It was freezing already, a good five degrees cooler than normal for the time of year at least, and she watched her breath crystallize in the air.
Somehow, she had a feeling that this was the new 'normal.' She bit her lip, swallowing as another spike of fever hit. A red haze crept in from the corners of her eyes, and she shook her head wildly.
Pomfrey and Dumbledore hadn't found any sign she was in any way being controlled or affected. Krum – Viktor, she thought angrily, he said to call him Viktor – had yet to determine what was in the potion from the samples she'd given him. They all seemed to think she was miraculously unharmed.
She knew better.
Luna peered down at her, her long blonde hair swinging as she lay above her and to the right. The Ravenclaw girl was balancing on the rail like she was one of those Muggle gymnasts Hermione used to talk about, in the silly bodysuits from the classes her mum had forced on her when she was four years old.
Although, Ginny thought with a slight grin, the sight of a tiny, indignant toddler Hermione in a bodysuit and a tutu was rather endearing.
Lying on her stomach, Luna had her elbows propped up and her chin resting on her fists. The girl giggled as a sudden spray of lake water flew up and splashed them, leaning forward and drawing symbols on the rail in the small puddles.
"Maybe there isn't anything else to find," Luna said quietly, biting her lip as she leaned over the side slightly, trying to reach who-even-knew-what. "Maybe all he was talking about was the books in Slytherin's chambers. He wouldn't know we found them, after all."
"I wish you would get down from there," Ginny muttered darkly, eying Luna's precarious position. Luna just smiled. "And that doesn't make any sense," she continued, shaking her head. "Harry said there was a tunnel from the Forest down there, too. Why would he need the school cleared out for that, if he could just walk right in through a secret passageway?"
Luna shrugged easily, biting her lip as she continued to trace on the rail. "I think," she began. Ginny glanced up at her when the Ravenclaw girl fell silent. Luna was completely still on the rail, her eyes unfocused and staring straight ahead. A sudden crash of waves beneath them sent a jet of freezing lake water shooting towards them both, and some of it splashed on Luna's face.
The girl didn't blink.
"Luna," Ginny said shakily as her heart began to thud in her ears. That terrible chill crept back up her spine, and she shoved backwards, pushing to her feet. "Luna, get down from – "
She reached towards Luna, intending to drag her down from the rail and tear into her over her recklessness –
The Ravenclaw pitched suddenly to the side, disappearing over the edge of the bridge in a flurry of billowing blue robes.
Please be here, please be here, Ginny thought frantically as she raised her wand. With a shaking hand, she tore her robes off and dropped them at her feet, then grabbed the rail and climbed up to stand on the edge. As she stepped forward, her eyes fixed on the small hurtling bullet that was Luna, she screamed "Accio Harry's Firebolt!"
And she jumped.
Somehow, freefalling was terrifying in a way that flying was decidedly not. The air was rushing past her, freezing and biting, stinging at her eyes and making tears fall. It felt as though her skin were being scrubbed raw by sandpaper, her hair was going to tear clean off her head…
And she wasn't going to reach her in time. Even with ditching the robes, Luna had started falling too far ahead and the girl was only about two hundred feet from the surface of the lake, her face unnaturally still.
Luna, she thought miserably, Luna, I'm sorry.
A sudden rushing sound cut through the air, and Ginny squeaked as a bundle of twigs appeared next to her. She grabbed onto the tail of the broom with a hiss, yanking it under herself as she continued to fall. Tumbling twice before she was able to right herself, she bent as low as she could over the broom and narrowed her eyes on Luna.
She could make it… fifty feet… twenty… Gritting her teeth, she urged the broom forward and skidded to a halt, reaching out her arms. She wrapped both her hands around her friend's shoulders and pulled, grunting slightly when the momentum shoved them down further towards the lake. The broom bucked beneath her as she almost fell backwards, and Ginny ground her teeth even more, banding her arms around Luna. Her friend wasn't moving, her head lolling back to rest on Ginny's shoulder.
Her throat was burning as she finally managed to stop the broom, the tips of her toes brushing the surface of the lake. Tightening her grip on her friend, she angled the broom towards the shore and sped towards the closest reach of land, nearest to Hagrid's cabin.
She couldn't hear herself think, so loudly was her heart pounding in her ears. Ginny's hands shook as she dismounted the broom, pulling Luna with her. Her friend went limp again and fell to her knees, and Ginny hurriedly straightened the girl into an upright position, then lay her back on the sand. "Luna," she croaked, her throat raw, tears still stinging the corners of her eyes. Behind her, she heard heavy footfalls on the ground. "Luna, wake up!"
"Ginny!" Hagrid's voice thundered behind them, and Ginny ignored him, wrapping her hands around her friend's shoulders and shaking her roughly. Luna was staring blankly ahead, not moving, not even blinking. Ginny's eyes fell to her friend's chest – no rise and fall, she wasn't breathing.
"Ennervate!" she hissed, pointing her wand at her friend. "Ennervate!"
"Ginny," Hagrid said worriedly, his huge shadow falling over her as he stood behind her. "What happened?"
"Wake up!" she screamed, leaning straight over Luna and shouting in the other girl's face. Tears were streaming freely down her cheeks now, and a constant stream of no no no no no was echoing through her mind.
A sudden gasp sounded, and Ginny let out a cry of relief as Luna swallowed harshly, her eyes darting back and forth as she tried to regain her bearings. She hunched over, her head falling on Luna's shoulder, and let out a shaky breath as she struggled to stop crying.
"Luna," she whispered, and her friend made a funny noise in her throat, "what happened?"
She felt her friend shaking her head even as Hagrid strode off – for help, she was sure – and Ginny leaned back, her eyes on Luna's face.
"What happened," she asked again softly.
"They are missing," Luna sobbed, and Ginny's blood froze. "I can't find them, I can't – "
"Who? Who, Luna?"
The Ravenclaw girl raised her shaking hands to her face and began to scratch at her eyes, as though it would stop whatever she was seeing. Ginny swore angrily, leaning forward and catching both of the girl's hands in one of hers. "WHO?" she asked again, moving so she was pinning Luna down as the girl tried to pull her hands free.
Luna froze suddenly, eyes fixed on Ginny's face. Her eyes were wide and terrified, and the blonde girl swallowed then whispered, "Everyone."
Fuck!
Ginny grabbed at the pendant around her neck and activated it, immediately snarling through the open connection Everyone, check in, NOW. With a jab of her wand in the direction of the bridge, she summoned her robes and dug the DA coin out of her pocket, sending the same message.
Ron and I are at Moody's cabin. Is everything alright? Hermione's voice echoed a moment later, and Luna closed her eyes.
Harry and I are at St Kilna with Bill, Shacklebolt, Lupin and Tonks, plus some of Bill's team, Neville replied, and Ginny sagged with relief, scooting over so she was lying on the sand next to Luna. Reaching out, she ran her fingers through a knot of tangled hair and smiled sadly at her friend.
"Luna," she said carefully. "I need you to tell me what happened."
Luna met her eyes, biting her lip, and tears welled up again in the Ravenclaw's eyes. The girl tilted her head back and gazed at the Astronomy tower, looming over them.
"Everything falls," Luna whispered. "It's all gone."
The sound of people running cut through their eerie bubble of quiet, and Ginny allowed Seamus to lead her toward the Hospital Wing, Madam Pomfrey and Hagrid following behind with Luna floating on a stretcher behind them.
As they crossed into castle, Ginny tipped her head back and stared up at the Astronomy tower.
Everything falls, Luna's voice echoed in her mind.
Moody's Hideout
Unst, Shetland Islands
Scotland
Hermione let out a weary sigh as she dropped the pendant and stepped back. Ginny had insisted they didn't need to return, that everything was fine, but she couldn't shake the feeling of dread. Ginny was an emotional girl, that was true, but not one prone to unfounded panic.
And Ginny had sounded utterly frantic.
The girl's inane panic is hardly your concern, the Snape-voice sounded in the back of her mind, barely a whisper, and Hermione swallowed as she felt a chill run through her.
You can stop that any time now, she thought, as scathingly as she could manage. I know it's you.
A dark chuckle echoed in her ears, and Hermione struggled to raise her Occlumency shields.
She had never hated before, but she did now.
It had taken Dumbledore sitting down and using Legilimency on her before they came to any kind of conclusion. They had spent hours locked in his office, Tonks, Kingsley, Lupin, and Bill and Mr. Weasley sitting in a ring around them the whole time with Bill watching the Headmaster with narrowed eyes. The fact that they had even figured out something was wrong seemed to rather confirm her suspicion that Bill had been reading her mind in his workshop days before, and although she was grateful, she carefully avoided his eyes.
It was strange, but the cursebreaker seemed almost pleased that she was acting that way.
Hermione was certain she'd seen Dumbledore age at least twenty years when he confirmed their suspicions, that Snape had done something to her mind. With a tired sigh, rubbing a shaking, gnarled hand across his eyes, the Headmaster murmured that it seemed to be a variant of the Imperius – Snape could not actually hear her, could not see through her eyes or talk to her. But he had left behind an imprint, a shadow on her subconscious, and it could influence her thoughts and actions if she didn't keep on her guard. Occlumency wouldn't make it go away, he'd explained, but it could help her to focus her will.
"I'm sorry, child," Dumbledore had whispered to her, his eyes filling up with tears. "It seems I've failed you both."
Sitting beside her, Tonks had squeezed her hand.
"I think maybe it is time to secure our properties and operations against Snape," Kingsley had said quickly, his face shadowed where he sat over by the fire. Hermione glanced at the burly Auror curiously – his voice had been trembling, just the slightest bit. Her gaze fell to his hands and she frowned – he had balled them into fists at his sides.
"He could have read her mind," Dumbledore argued. "He could have gleaned every Order secret she holds and taken it straight to Voldemort, and I saw no trace of an intrusion of that sort. Surely that means – "
It was Mr. Weasley who had cut him off, sighing sadly. "Albus, it's time to face the facts," the Weasley patriarch said gently. "You tried, but ultimately, you cannot save someone who does not want to be saved. He's made his choice, more than once."
"And now, we have to make ours," Bill said simply, his face twisted in a scowl. Hermione shot him a worried look and he smiled at her calmly.
Stay away, the voice had echoed in her mind when Bill looked back at her, and Dumbledore jerked back, staring at Hermione.
Which, Hermione thought angrily, had answered the question of whether the Headmaster had lingered in her thoughts himself.
It hadn't been long after that when the Headmaster conceded to the others, agreeing to a capture order for Severus Snape. The look that passed between Tonks, Kingsley, and Bill had her slightly worried about whether that order would be followed, but Hermione was too exhausted to worry about that.
Amazingly enough, Viktor, having proven his competency to Dumbledore in looking into Ginny's potion, had been offered and had accepted the Potions Master position at the school. He had been briefed on her illness and was taking over her treatments with Poppy. A dark look had crossed his face when her heard what had happened to her, and the ex-Quidditch star had slammed out of the room, disappearing down into the Potions labs. Hermione had gone to check on him only once and found herself politely nudged from the room before she had a chance to look at the eight cauldrons he had running, the dozens of books scattered around.
The looks Viktor had shot her, as though she were made of spun glass, had succeeded in hurting her far worse than anything that had been done to her thus far.
Hermione Granger, she thought angrily, was not anyone's damsel.
Then why is it that you require so much rescuing? the Snape-voice said smoothly, and Hermione scowled, shaking her head to clear it. She just wasn't good at Occlumency yet, she'd only just started studying and –
"Hermione," a voice cut through her reverie, and her eyes snapped up to meet Ron's gaze. The youngest Weasley son was looking at her patiently, his hands hanging loosely at his sides.
"Sorry," she said, clearing her throat, and she raised one shaking hand to brush the hair back from her face. "I – sorry, were you saying something?"
Ron shot her a grin and shook his head. "Nah," he said lightly, though Hermione was certain he had said something to her. "Just I've finished this section and I was wondering if you were ready to break for lunch?"
Hermione grinned back at him. As crazy as their world was becoming, it was nice to have something – predictable. Steady. Ron would always be dependable.
"Ron?" she asked suddenly. "Do you ever wish we were in love with each other?"
Her best friend gaped at her, his eyes as wide as saucers. "Merlin, no!" Ron burst out, then a look of dread came over his face. His ears went red at the tips, his face white, and he shook his head harshly. "I mean – I – bloody hell Mione, you're amazing. I didn't mean – "
Hermione had gasped, clapping her hands over her mouth the second he started to speak. Her shoulders shaking, she bit her lip and turned away.
"Mione, I'm sor – wait a second." Ron stepped forward, wrapping one hand around her shoulder, and swung her around to face him. He bent over and peered at her face, and Hermione squeaked, tightening her hands on her face. "You little – you were laughing!" he exclaimed, a grin stretching across his face. "How could you?"
Hermione pulled her hands free and spun out of his grip, laughing even harder, before she spun back and grinned at him. "You should have seen your face," she gasped. "What did you think I was going to do, curse you?"
"Welllll…." Ron said slowly, shrugging, but his eyes sparkled. Crossing over to the huge couch along the far wall, he sat down and stretched out his legs. "What brought this on?"
Having an evil psychopath in my head twenty-four seven, she thought darkly. "I don't know," she shrugged, frowning. "I just wish sometimes, that's all. You're brilliant and brave and funny and fun to be around, and sometimes I wish I felt that way about you."
"Life would be a lot simpler," Ron agreed, frowning. He raised his arm and Hermione quickly moved over to sit beside him, burrowing into his side. The burn started on her skin and she bit her lip, stubbornly staying in place. "You're a genius, and you're bloody loyal and wonderful but I just don't…"
"I know," Hermione said gently, before Ron could worry about her feelings again, "that's why I said sometimes I wish, not sometimes I feel."
Ron snorted. "Can you picture it?" he asked, shaking his head. "Sunday dinners at the Burrow, everyone crowded in. You're glaring at me because I forgot to take out the trash, again, and I'm not speaking to you because you told on me for cheating on my driving test."
"And Hugo and Rose are upset, because we fight every single day. They don't understand that that's just how we communicate."
She felt Ron's arm shift behind her head and turned slightly to see him staring down at her. "Hugo?" he exclaimed. "You would name our son Hugo?" Shaking his head, the tall redhead pulled his arm free from behind her, sending her toppling over with an indignant yell. "That's it, Hermione, I'm sorry. That's just right cruel, that is. I'm going to have to break up with you now."
"Oh, ho," Hermione shot back, glaring at him. "That is not how that would go. I would break up with you."
Ron laughed. "Yeah, probably," he agreed, grinning widely. He leaned back on the couch and settled his arm across her shoulders again. They fell into a companionable silence for a time, then Ron squeezed his arm around her shoulders, sighing tiredly. "Are you gonna tell me what you and Harry are up to yet?"
"What?"
"You know, whatever has you sneaking off all the time," Ron said easily. He grinned mischievously as Hermione gaped at him. "I mean, if you're a couple now, cor, Hermione, just tell me. We can work out a signal for when you two want to – "
"Ron!"
"Well, we could."
Hermione huffed out a laugh. "You must be joking," she said waspishly. "He's Harry."
"Hey," Ron shot back indignantly, "Harry's a great bloke!"
"I never said he – " Hermione trailed off, flushing, as she saw a slow smile spread across Ron's face. "Prat," she muttered darkly, shoving at his shoulder. "Honestly, how anyone thinks the twins are the most incorrigible of you lot…"
"I had to defend my mate's honor," Ron said simply, chuckling, and Hermione snorted. "Seriously, Hermione," he continued, and she turned her head to look at him. "I don't like you two keeping secrets from me. It just makes me worry about you both."
"Oh, so you don't keep any secrets from us?" Hermione retorted immediately, and Ron smiled at her sadly.
"No."
She froze, her reply dying on her lips, and looked at him searchingly. Ron just looked back at her, waiting.
"We're trying to find a way to block the memories," she whispered finally.
"What?" Ron sat forward with his eyes fixed on her face. In the corner, the fireplace crackled, and Hermione swallowed nervously. "What do you mean?"
"The memories, from the brains that attacked you," she said. "We're working on a way to – "
"No," Ron said shortly. He got to his feet, his face carefully blank.
"What do you mean no?"
"It means no," Ron replied simply. He turned away, staring at the fireplace. "I'm not getting rid of the memories. They're helpful."
"Ron, they're hurting you!" Hermione snapped, tears gathering in her eyes, and Ron spun around, glaring at her.
"Oh, and I'm the only one who is hurting, am I?" he asked angrily. "Do you think I don't see you, Hermione? Every. Day."
Hermione froze, and Ron let out a weary sigh.
"Harry – Harry is more than a brother," he said in a quiet voice. "It's awful to admit it, but it's true. I care more about him than I do Fred and George, Bill and Charlie – not Ginny," he said with a rueful smile. "Nobody is ever taking Harry's place."
He stepped forward, his eyes on her face. "But you, Hermione," he said shakily. "You and me, we've been through the same struggles, carried the same burdens. Nobody else can understand, but you can." Swallowing, he shook his head. "You're my best friend, Hermione Granger."
How touching, the Snape-voice sneered as Hermione stared at Ron.
"I know there's something wrong," Ron continued, "and I know it's bad. And I get that you don't want to worry everyone. But if you tell anyone…" He swallowed again. "If you tell anyone the truth, Hermione, tell me."
Tears fell freely from her eyes, and Hermione finally caved.
An hour later found them sitting side by side on the sofa, Hermione jerkily recounting the entire tale. Ron sat there as silently and patiently as she'd ever seen him, squeezing her hand every now and then, but saying nothing. He hissed angrily between his teeth when she got to the part about Snape somehow controlling her thoughts, and finally, with the long tale over, Hermione fell silent.
There was no sound in the room for the longest time, save the crackle of the fireplace and their breathing. Hermione felt numb, like saying it all had somehow dampened it, but she could still hear the Snape-voice whispering.
"He's a dead man."
Hermione jumped as Ron's voice cut through the silence, and she turned her head to stare at him. The youngest Weasley male was staring into the fireplace, his posture rigid and his jaw clenched. "What?" she asked, her voice shaking, and Ron shook his head.
"You heard me."
Hermione scoffed angrily, tossing her hair back as she glared at the back of his head. "I don't need some knight to come rushing in and save me. Honestly, you and Kingsley…"
At that, Ron turned his head and raised an eyebrow, and a strange look flitted across his face. The other teen drew a sharp breath, then sighed and smiled at her ruefully. "Hell, Mione, I know that you can defend yourself just fine. If you decided to take me out, Merlin himself couldn't save me. That's commonly known fact."
Hermione smiled slightly.
"But he has to pay, and he will," Ron said quietly. "Mark my words, Severus Snape will die by my hand."
Then, before she could say another word, he was banging his way out of the room, yelling back over his shoulder, "You need to upgrade me from a teaspoon!"
Malfoy Manor
The outskirts of Malmesbury
Wiltshire, England
"They did a thorough job," Albus said softly, his arms held loosely at his sides as he surveyed the grounds.
Minerva grunted beside him, while Hagrid and Rosmerta shot him twin looks of incredulity.
"Thorough?" Rosmerta said shrilly, gesturing towards the wreckage. "Is that what you'd call this?"
Hagrid just shook his head.
They stood in the early morning light, just inside the twisted metal gates that had once separated the manor grounds from the world outside. It was clear that the place had been magnificent, once – there were carefully placed plots of flowers and bushes artfully arranged all over the grounds, a beautiful stream bubbling off to the far left, that likely met the river just outside the grounds… Malfoy Manor had been absolutely stunning.
Albus frowned and looked up at the pile of stone and charred wood at the top of the hill. Furls of smoke were still rising from the rubble, and every so often, a blue or white spark would shoot up from somewhere under the stones.
It had been four days, and the magic was still building.
"What ritual did you say he used, Albus?" Rosy asked, her eyes narrowed on the space. The pub owner took a few steps towards the manor then stopped, hissing.
"He invented it."
Rosmerta's eyes snapped back to his and she stared steadily at Albus, her normally friendly face flat and severe. "He invented it."
"He and Hermione Granger, with help from a source we cannot disclose," Minerva added as she gazed off to the right, where a horsebarn stood on the property. The flames seemed to have stopped just feet away from the barn, forming a perfect circle around the structure. Inside, the horses still whinnied, and Albus could hear a snorting sound carrying on the wind every now and then.
The furthest reach of the property was much the same. The flames had spread across the grounds, coming to a stop in a perfect line along the edge of the property. Though several heavy-bowed trees lined the edges, some of the branches stretching across the property line, not a single leaf was so much as singed.
"Well, what they invented," Rosmerta muttered darkly, "you might not want to use it very much. I liked that boy. Is he still alive?" she asked sharply, shooting Dumbledore a dirty look.
Albus winced before he nodded. Truth be told, he was starting to be a bit alarmed.
"According to Mr. Potter," Minerva cut in, glancing at him worriedly out of the corner of her eye, "he was unconscious for about twenty-four hours, and he was moving rather slowly for a day afterwards, but as far as we can tell, he suffered no lasting effects."
Rosmerta shook her head, pursing her cupid's lips together with a frown. "He should be dead," she said flatly. Minerva and Dumbledore shot each other worried looks as Hagrid exclaimed his shock, and Rosmerta scowled.
"I can see what he was trying to do," the barkeep murmured. Ignoring the others, she crouched down and picked up a small handful of dirt, rubbing it between her index and forefinger. "I'm not a wards expert, mind, rituals were my study, and he hadn't yet delved into wards when he left my tutelage. But it seems to me that the intent was to block any dark magic or dark talismans from entering the property. The Dark Mark would certainly be blocked, and so anyone who bore it."
"If that was the intent," Albus asked slowly, a worried frown on his face, "what was the actual result?"
Rosmerta laughed bitterly. "Albus, nothing is going to be living here for 100 years at least…except maybe unicorns."
Around them, a soft, chill breeze began to blow, the wind catching the flames ahead and teasing them upwards. The sparks of little lightning grew closer and closer together, and Albus tipped his head back to gaze at the giant white lightning bolt that still floated above Malfoy Manor.
That had been Harry's idea, a mockery of Voldemort's Mosmodre spell.
"Rosy," Dumbledore said quietly, "what do you mean?"
She sighed. "Maybe the wording was too general," she said slowly, "maybe they overpowered it. Whatever happened, this property is now surrounded by a judgment ward. Anyone who crosses onto the property will be examined by magic and… encouraged off the property if found wanting."
"And what would make someone be judged wanting?" Minerva asked with a scowl.
"Anything," Rosmerta replied. "Any harm done to another, deliberate or accidental. Any uncharitable thought. This ward does not leave any room for error, any space to be human."
"Hagrid," Albus said with a smile, "you'll be able to stay here just fine."
"The only one of us, I'm sure," Minerva murmured, patting the giant man's arm, and Hagrid flushed behind his beard.
"Now, now," he said with a smile, his beetle-black eyes flashing. "I'm no saint me own self."
"What will happen, I suppose?" Albus mused.
Rosmerta scoffed, shooting him a dirty look. "Find out for yourself."
Albus smiled absently, shaking his head before he stepped forward.
It felt rather like being stung by a dozen bees, he thought. Frowning back at the others, he stood silently on an uncharred stretch of grass, extending his senses and closing his eyes. He could sense something, a strange sensation in the air, somehow an oppressive weight and a marvelous light all at once.
The bee stings felt more like acid being thrown on his skin, suddenly. Ariana's face swam before his eyes, then Aberforth's, Gellert's, Newt, Harry… All around, he heard the echoing sound of their voices, chastising him as they never had before. Their faces faded and in his mind was a graveyard, the headstones all bearing familiar names… The acid burns began to feel like pure fire…
A gloved hand flew out of the air and wrapped around his arm, and Albus's eyes shot open as he was yanked back to the others. He looked at the floating black glove in askance, then shot a bewildered look at Rosmerta, who smiled at him.
Well. He supposed she didn't know that the 'floating' black glove was actually him standing there, invisible.
"Yes, I used your own spell against you," the barkeep said calmly. "It got worse the longer you stood there, didn't it?"
Albus simply nodded, his eyes going back to the rubble at the top of the hill.
"As I suspected, then," Rosmerta murmured. "It's a judgment ward, but since they weren't all that specific, any wrongdoing against another will trigger the spell."
"And let he who is without sin," Minerva said softly, frowning.
"Exactly," Rosmerta agreed. "Albus, I doubt you'll be able to even get to the manor, let alone spend any time digging through the rubble."
"There's something in there that I need," the Headmaster replied, his eyes still fixed on the ruins. In his mind, Ariana continued to whisper to him, and he swallowed and then let out a shaky breath.
"Well, look on the bright side," Hagrid said gruffly, and the two witches turned to look at him. "You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters, if Dumbledore can't get by that spell, they don't stand a chance."
"We'll need to figure out how to circumvent it," Albus mused, his eyes narrowed. Behind him, he heard Rosmerta's heavy sigh.
"Albus, I told you years ago. I quit."
"And yet, he is still not avenged."
The barkeep's eyes cut to his face, raw fury radiating from her. She wasn't as recovered from the past as he had thought, Albus realized suddenly. The death of her lover, the thing that had ripped her from the mastery program and sent her running to hide behind a bar –
Like you hid in a school, a voice in the back of his mind hissed suddenly, and Albus flinched.
"I will see what I can do," Rosmerta replied suddenly, her words sharp and biting. "Between Harry's raw power, the obvious enhancement artifacts they used, Bill's general skill and the fact that this is an unknown spell, I promise nothing. But I'll see what I can do."
Albus smiled at her genially. He would just have to return another time. Turning on his heel, he clapped Hagrid on the arm, unable to reach his shoulder. "Come, Hagrid. As apparently I have no need of your strength here, let us go check on your brother."
"I'll stay with Rosmerta," Minerva said stiffly. "In case they come back."
"Very well."
"Oh, and Albus," the pub owner called as they crossed back to the gate. The Headmaster turned on his heel, raising an eyebrow at her. Rosmerta's pretty face was blank, her eyes flat, and she looked at him with her mouth set in a thin line.
"If you ever use Edgar to manipulate me again," she said evenly, "I will make certain you regret it."
Unknown
"I'm afraid that's simply out of the question."
Arthur smiled lightly at the man sitting across the desk from him. They were in a shadowed little corner, far underground. Frost lined the walls, the only light from scattered candles floating in the air. The floor was damp and covered in moss and slime, and the air smelled strongly of mildew.
Merlin, he hated reporting in. Especially as they were tucked behind every ward and secrecy spell known to the Confederation, and still, the man whispered. His father, at least, had had a spine.
"Matias, you know as well as I that the current British Ministry is compromised," he said simply. "Whatever orders they have given regarding myself and my family are politically motivated, not legitimate charges."
"And yet, if we were to continue to back you, it could be seen as subverting the sovereign rights of a free nation," Matias Spielman shot back, his face going a violent shade of red. "We cannot risk it, Arthur!"
"Then why have you called me here, if not to help?" Arthur asked, raising an eyebrow. Spielman's face went amazingly redder, and Arthur nodded to himself. "Ah. I see."
"I had no choice, Arthur," the other man replied, his voice now trembling. Spielman shot a glance behind them at the stairwell leading to the main floor. Footsteps were sounding above. "It was orders."
"From whom?"
Spielman shook his head. "They think if we turn you in, we will gain favor with this so-called Dark Lord. That we might be able to slip someone inside."
Arthur rarely felt anger anymore – time and experience had tempered most of his extremes – and yet, at that moment, he could admit he was moderately annoyed. "Did it occur to none of you that I'm considerably more useful moving about freely?"
"Why do you think I'm warning you?" Spielman hissed. With a shaking hand, he reached up and loosened his tie. Sweat had begun to bead on his forehead as Arthur watched calmly. "Look. I don't know what's going on. Truth is that I have no way of knowing if the leadership is compromised."
Matias Spielman, the angry little paper-pusher who had acted as Arthur's handler for the ICW for years, met Arthur's eyes evenly. "But I know you aren't," the man said quietly, and Arthur bit back a surprised retort. "I expect you already have your England cell in hand. Australia is still in good shape. Turkey reported in five days ago asking me how to reach you. Romania and Germany are off the grid. I don't know about the others."
Fuck. "How long?"
"Since mid-August," Matias admitted ruefully. "You need to call them in, Arthur, get everyone together so you can get the lay of the land."
At this, Arthur shook his head. He wasn't sure what was going on yet, but he knew calling in all his operatives was not the answer. No, he had his own way to handle a disaster. "How long do we have?"
Matias flushed again, the man's hand twitching. "I was told to stall you for ten minutes."
Arthur snorted, glancing up at the ceiling again. The sound of footsteps was growing louder, and he heard the soft creak of an opening door.
Really, sitting behind a desk all the time made field agents lose their edge, he knew… but had none of them heard of silencing charms?
"Are you going to fight your way out?" Matias asked, as footsteps began to thunder down the stairs. Arthur shook his head, snorting again.
"Really, Matias, when have you ever known me to be theatrical?" He chuckled lightly under his breath, then sent the other man an apologetic smile. "Be safe."
Then with a brandish of his wand, he sent Spielman flying across the room to bash into the wall, landing in a crumpling heap on the floor. The man groaned feebly, curling in a ball on his side. Shouts echoed from above him, and Arthur looked at the bottom of the stairwell and frowned.
Then he moved carefully across the room and melted into the walls.
I don't have enough time, he thought worriedly. With a weary sigh, he leaned his head back against the outside of the building he'd just left, looking around himself curiously. He wasn't certain what country he was in – headquarters moved indiscriminately, and often without warning. But Merlin, what a view. The boardwalk where he stood stretched across beautiful white sands, with the ocean gleaming like a jewel as far as he could see. All around, palm trees waved in a slight, warm breeze.
He'd need to figure out where he had come out, and bring Molly back, one of these days.
With one more wistful glance at the waves, he spun on his heel and vanished, landing in a crumbling Citadel. He strode quickly out of the ruins and moved across the city, his hand clenched on his wand in his pocket. Slipping into Voynich, he moved to the corner and sat down across from the man already there, hunched over a menu.
"We have a problem," the Romanian grunted, and Arthur let out a tired sigh.
Room of Requirement
Hogwarts
Silence had echoed through the room after Hermione finished speaking. Harry felt numb, staring at the girl blankly. A strange buzzing sound started in his ears and a red haze formed over his vision.
Calm down, mate, he thought to himself, before you explode something.
Glancing around the room, he took in the others' expressions. From the way Hermione had glanced at Ron before she started, Harry was certain the other boy already knew. Ginny was crying openly, and Luna looked sad, but not surprised.
It was Neville's reaction that startled Harry slightly. The stocky Gryffindor had shot to his feet, stalked across the room, and shot an impressive fireball at a cut-out shaped just like the dour Potions Master. Only after the likeness had been reduced to ash did the other boy rejoin them at the chairs.
"We need to think about what this means," Ron said simply.
"Either this is one of Dumbledore's more terrible plans, to help solidify his cover with the Death Eaters," Neville began.
"Which, allowing Snape to hurt Hermione like this? I don't think he would go that far," Ginny cut in, and the others nodded as Harry frowned. He was never sure anymore what he thought of the Headmaster. He believed the elderly wizard meant well, surely, but…
"Or, he really has been on Voldemort's side this whole time," Neville finished.
"It might not be that simple," Hermione said quietly, and Ron shot her a sympathetic glance while Ginny scoffed. "No, really. This might be his own plan to solidify his cover. He might be on his own side and using us all to get what he wants. He might have recently decided to side with Voldemort after all. We have no way to really discern his motives."
"I don't think his motives really matter," Harry countered. "Even if this was some twisted plan to help his cover, he went too far."
Ron was shaking his head. "That's not it," the youngest Weasley son said simply, and everyone turned to look at him questioningly. "The timing is what's bothering me," he muttered. "I mean, if we assume that he's a traitor and he's with Voldemort, he's been deep cover for, what? Fifteen years at least?" Shoving to his feet, he paced over toward the fireplace. "So why break cover now?"
"Maybe Voldemort doesn't think he needs him at the school anymore," Ginny shrugged. "Another spy?"
"No," Ron shook his head, frowning. "Why pull your best asset? That makes no sense. Unless…"
He trailed off, looking across the room at Hermione. The curly-haired witch bit her lip, her face shadowed. "Unless he doesn't think he'll need anyone at the school anymore."
"Think about it, mate," Ron said urgently, spinning to face Harry. "You had one Voldemort dream all summer, one. And it was perfectly timed to hear them talking about an attack?"
Harry closed his eyes, thinking back. He pictured the dream carefully –
Be ready to move on Halloween. That seems like a fitting time, Voldemort's voice echoed in his mind. The feeling of glee in the air. Malfoy's harried attempts to fake nonchalance. Dolohov's disappointment.
"I don't think that was a fake," Harry said slowly. "It felt different than when Sirius was – "
"I don't either," Ron replied. "I think it was staged."
"What?"
Ron threw himself back down on the couch as the others stared at him. "He lowered his defenses and breached yours, to make sure you heard that exact conversation. He wanted us to think he was planning to kidnap Hermione and Gin on Halloween. Then a few weeks later, they take Ginny and let her go after just a couple days. Why?"
Hermione frowned. "We were a distraction."
Ron snapped his fingers, pointing at her and nodding as Luna's eyes widened. "Exactly," Ron said with a scowl. "Half of winning a war is morale. Morale is already pretty damn low, after all the attacks this summer, then the Ministry and Diagon Alley. If I wanted to crush opposition, I'd make sure everyone knows the leaders of that side can't protect them."
"By having us expecting, and getting ready for, something smaller," Hermione continued. "So when the real attack comes, we're completely unprepared. And we look like fools."
"And everybody will see it," Ron finished.
"So, what?" Ginny asked, shooting a worried glance at Harry. The black-haired teen was sitting silently in the corner, staring into the flames. "How soon do you think – ?"
"It'll still be Halloween," Harry said woodenly, his face shadowed. Ron and Hermione turned to look at him, and Luna nodded.
"The veil is thinnest at Samhain," Luna agreed, humming to herself.
"And Tom does love his symbolism," Ginny muttered darkly. "He's a total drama queen."
Neville let out a startled snort, shooting the fiery girl an amused grin. "We can't trust that, though, can we?" he asked with a tired sigh.
"No," Ron agreed. "We need to be ready as soon as possible."
Harry was exhausted. He'd used a huge amount of energy, going through the Fortress with Neville, Bill and the others. Making plans. Trying to figure out how to clean up and what to do with the place. Finding that place, getting inside, was a huge advantage.
Time to make sure they kept the advantage, he supposed. Bloody hell, Ron, I hope you're wrong.
"Then let's get ready," Harry said with a scowl. "We need to get the Fortress habitable quickly, in case we have to evacuate students there. Ginny, contact your mum and see if she can help. Ron, Nev, I want you to pull in the DA, ramp up the patrols for the school for the next few weeks. Teach them a few new vicious tricks." The two boys nodded and got to their feet, Ginny already spinning in her chair to firecall her mother.
"Hermione," Harry added quietly, and the brunette looked at him steadily. "Link up with Lupin, find out everything you can about the Map. I know he said Dad and Sirius made it mostly, but he must remember something. I want one made of the Fortress as fast as possible." Hermione bit her lip and frowned.
"If we are going to have civilians in the Fortress, we'll need to make some areas off-limits except to the Order and DA. I'll work with Bill on that," Harry continued. "Luna, can you see about setting up some sentries around the school and the Fortress? Something more permanent than your moths?"
The dreamy girl smiled gently. "I have a few ideas."
"Great," Harry smiled back at her, and Ron and Hermione looked at each other and grinned. "Ginny, once you have your mother set, come join me and Bill. We could use your help setting some traps, too."
"Alright," Ron muttered, "we have seven weeks at best to get this done."
"Looks like we're dropping out of classes," Ginny said teasingly, grinning at Hermione.
The brunette witch laughed, shaking her head. "Who was going to administer OWLs and NEWTs anyway?" she asked with a shrug. "The Examining Authority was based in the Ministry."
"She'll make us self-study," Ron grinned. "Just you watch."
Shell Cottage
Tinworth, Cornwall
"I'm not in the mood to chat, Headmaster," Bill said tiredly.
The aged wizard smiled at him benignly from his spot on the porch. The flamboyant lilac robes and pointed starry hat stood out in stark relief against the subdued backdrop of the cottage, and Dumbledore was standing next to the giant potted plant, one hand still nudging at the shrubbery.
The traitorous thing was cooing at him, and Bill made a face at the shrub before it shivered and scooted back carefully, edging itself away from Dumbledore. The Headmaster frowned.
"Come now, William," the Headmaster said softly. "We were great partners once, you and I. Must there be such tension between us?"
I don't know, Bill thought, must there? He said nothing, walking up the steps and past Dumbledore, turning and stopping just in front of the door.
"The discovery of Slytherin's Fortress was a great accomplishment," the Headmaster continued, still smiling slightly. "You and Harry must be very proud."
"I'm sure it will be… useful," Bill said carefully. His free hand slipped into his pocket and he stretched out his other arm, resting his hand against the door frame in a clear show of impatience. He ached from head to toe, and the static sparking in his veins was stronger than its normal dormant state. With a scowl, he carefully looked inward, struggling to raise his Occlumency shields. It would not do to lose his temper at that moment.
"No doubt," Dumbledore chuckled. The Headmaster's smile faded and he fixed Bill with a serious gaze. "I've been to investigate at Malfoy Manor, my boy."
Bill blinked, not quite reacting fast enough to cover his surprise. "Oh?" he asked curiously. He didn't understand where the Headmaster was going with this – he had known what their plans were, after all.
Dumbledore nodded slowly, eyes still riveted on Bill's face. Shields now firmly in place, Bill met the elderly man's eyes steadily. "Rosmerta was kind enough to agree to inspect your work with me," he said.
Bill scowled at the mention of his former teacher. "She asked to be left out of things," he shot back, and Dumbledore smiled sadly.
"Ah, she did," the older man agreed. "But the times we live in don't allow anyone to truly be left to the sidelines, do they?"
Bill was silent.
"The magic there, William, it is…. curious," the Headmaster murmured. "Which leads me to believe that you were lying. You found something in Italy."
His temper rose. Flashes of blue started at the edges of his vision. He felt the bite of electricity at his fingertips. "Dust," he said evenly, letting out a careful breath and closing his eyes. He stood there frozen a moment, struggling to push back the surge.
"I need to know, Bill," Dumbledore said urgently, and Bill opened his eyes to find the Headmaster standing almost nose to nose with him. He stepped back, anger rising again, and this time, he didn't bother to temper it.
"Or what?" he snarled. "You'll take Harry from me? Good. Luck."
"My boy," the Headmaster began. "I must – "
"No," Bill cut him off, glaring. "I've long since run out of patience with you, old man. If you're so worried I did something awful there – " He stepped forward again, jaw clenched, and hissed at the Headmaster, "Maybe you shouldn't have sent me."
With a scoff, he spun on his heel, pulling the door open with more force than was necessary. Glancing back over his shoulder, he met the gaze of the stricken man on his porch. "I revoke your invitation," he said softly.
The wards sparked around them and a brilliant red glow appeared around them, oozing up out of the floorboards of the porch, the walls of the cottage. A sharp crack sounded, and Dumbledore was gone – sent back to wherever he had come from before arriving at Shell Cottage.
Bill let out a tired sigh, leaned his forehead against the wall, and closed his eyes. With a fortifying breath, he opened his eyes and straightened up, bracing himself for the next confrontation. For the person he knew was waiting for him.
Stepping into the kitchen, he paused, taking in the shadowed form sitting at the table. His father had his back to him, his head bowed slightly, and the man was holding an empty bottle in one hand. Arthur Weasley rarely drank, which told Bill that his father had had a terrible day as well… or was just as worried as Bill was about the conversation they were about to have.
Heaving another sigh, Bill crossed to the ice chest and filled two glasses with ice, then poured a bit of scotch and walked over to the table.
The older man waited silently, his eyes tracking Bill's movements across the room. Carefully, Bill set a glass down on the table in front of his father, then sat across from him, setting down his own glass and casually leaning the chair back.
"Shall I go first, or will you?" he asked lightly, quirking his lips in a slight grin.
Arthur Weasley smiled.
~*~ALIBI