The Paths We Tread
Chapter 18: No Rest for the Weary
Forbidden Forest
Hogwarts
Scotland
October 29, 1996
"Get him up," the soft, high voice ordered, and Fenrir groaned as he felt himself being lifted off the ground. His head lolled on his neck, every nerve in his body on fire, and a whimper slipped through his teeth as a piece of cloth brushed across his chest.
The Forest was a dull, hazy sight, colors fading and sounds growing faint. He swallowed harshly as ringing began to echo in his ears and a terrible chill stole over him –
Then another whisper sounded, and a rushing jet of light struck him in the chest. Fenrir grunted as the sharp, biting pain stole over his body, ice crystals forming and spreading across his entire front.
And as his temperature dropped, so did the pain.
This weak flesh, he thought derisively.
The world around him came into focus, and Fenrir met the glowing red eyes of Voldemort, gazing at him curiously. The would-be Lord seemed almost amused, his wand still pointed straight at Fenrir's heart.
The werewolf gritted his teeth, staring back at the not-quite-wizard.
"What did this?" Voldemort asked quietly.
"Lupin," Fenrir grunted, a snarl forming at the back of his throat. The wizard's face flashed through his mind, first four years old, then present day, then four again. "He had some rusty nail."
Nott, still holding him up with one arm, hissed low under his breath. Voldemort shot the wizard a dismissive look, and Nott dropped his eyes to the ground.
"A nail?" Voldemort asked, a strange, questioning tone in his voice. "What do you mean, a 'nail'?"
"What it sounds like," Fenrir shot back. "He stabbed me with a huge blasted nail." Beside him, Nott had stiffened, and standing behind Voldemort, Malfoy's poncy eyebrows hit his hairline. Voldemort just waited. "My Lord," Fenrir finished grudgingly, inclining his head slightly.
The Dark Lord was still just standing there, watching him. "Interesting," the creature said finally, and Malfoy and Nott both relaxed. Turning his head, Voldemort gazed down at the body a few feet away. The groundskeeper lay on the ground, facedown, his back gaping open in the middle. Beneath his torso, two small sets of hooves were sticking out – unlucky victims of his fall, little baby centaurs that hadn't moved fast enough.
They'd make a decent snack in a pinch, Fenrir supposed – he'd lost the little blonde waif, after all.
"You've killed the oaf," Voldemort continued softly, and Fenrir huffed slightly.
"Wasn't me," he admitted, and Voldemort turned his head to look back at him. "The head bloodsucker got him."
"Interesting," the Dark Lord said again. With a slight smirk, he looked over at Nott. "Theodore, get our new friends organized," he instructed, and the wizard nodded, his face set in a blank mask. "The rest of you have work to do." Turning on his heel, the creature swept out of the clearing.
As Fenrir stared after the wizard, he heard the Dark Lord's voice echo in his mind.
When Hogwarts falls, you may take Lupin as your pet.
Fenrir smiled.
Entrance Hall
Hogwarts
October 29, 1996
"Hagrid is dead, Harry," Lupin said gently, and Harry stared at the older man. "I'm so sorry."
Across the room, Hermione gasped, clapping her hands over her mouth as tears filled her eyes. Ron swallowed back bile, closing his eyes as Hagrid's friendly face flashed through his mind.
What's coming will come, the half-giant's voice echoed in his memory, and he swallowed again, opening his eyes and shaking his head. He looked to his right, eyeing the eerie blood red light suspiciously. It seemed to be growing, and creeping closer.
And at the center of the dome, just over them, was a small funnel, almost like a twister. It spun lazily, the spout hovering just over the Astronomy Tower.
"He died protecting Luna from Greyback," Lupin continued, and Luna sniffled, burrowing her head further into Harry's shoulder. Ron glanced over at them, smiling sadly as Ginny darted forward and wrapped herself around Luna. The little blonde whimpered, turning and weeping on Ginny's shoulder instead. "A vampire killed him."
"Which one?" a sharp voice demanded, and Ron heard his father's quick footsteps behind him. His dad stopped beside him, Dumbledore pausing on the next landing up and bracing one hand on the staircase rail.
"I don't exactly know their names," Lupin replied, frowning. "But he seemed to be in charge. The others looked to him for direction. They stood in direct sunlight at his command."
Dumbledore and his father exchanged a meaningful look. In the pit of Ron's stomach, a feeling of dread began to grow.
"How many?" Dumbledore asked quietly, and Lupin let out a slow, deep breath. Blood welled up in the wound on his neck.
"I'd say about a hundred strong at least. Maybe even two."
Ron chanced a look at Harry. The other teen was staring straight ahead, not moving, not blinking. As he watched, Hermione took a step towards Harry, her mouth set in a grim line. Behind him came the sound of running footsteps, and Sue and Seamus skidded to a halt beside Dumbledore, Theo pushing past them all to Greengrass's side. The weedy Slytherin put a hand on her shoulder and peered into her face, whispering earnestly.
"This isn't really the place for this conversation," his father said suddenly. "Students will be starting to wake."
Wakey, wakey, Rosier's voice whispered suddenly in Ron's mind. The piercing screams began to echo again. I love it when you scream, the monster hissed as a woman wept. It's such a beautiful sound… He felt the warm pulsing of blood on his hands and he smiled, his eyes alight with –
"Ron!" His father's voice sounded sharply in his ear, and Ron jumped, shaking his head to clear it as Dorcas Meadow's screams faded to a faint buzzing sound. He turned his head to meet his father's worried gaze, ignoring the stares of the rest of the crowd.
Except Harry. Harry still hadn't moved. He met Hermione's eyes and nodded. His best friend was biting her lip, one hand fiddling with something in her pocket.
"Right," Ron muttered to himself. Reaching up, he wrapped a hand around his Communication Pendant and focused. Nev, he called through the charm.
Silence. Harry slowly looked up.
Neville, he tried again.
"Could you hear that?" he demanded, and the girls paled while Harry frowned grimly.
"Yeah," Harry muttered.
"No," Hermione said quietly. "No, no, not Neville, not – " Her hands began to shake.
"Hermione," Ron started, and Ginny's gaze sharpened on Hermione's face. Luna lifted her head slowly.
"Not Neville!" Hermione gasped, "not – "
Finally Harry moved, crossing the entrance hall and wrapping his hands around her elbows. "Hermione," he said gently. "We just heard him. He's at the Fortress. He's fine."
"We aren't," Ginny muttered darkly, and Luna closed her eyes.
Hermione let out a gasping sob, slowly lowering her hands. Her eyes flickered over to Ron for a moment and he smiled sadly.
What was that? he thought worriedly. He knew Hermione could be prone to panic, but still. He eyed her silently for a moment. She was pale, her hands still shaking, and he swallowed back a comment.
She was having another bad day, was all. He couldn't fix that, but maybe… Turning back to the window, he gazed out at the dome.
"Expecto Patronum," he murmured, summoning his terrier. The little silver dog wagged its tail, bouncing out the window. It shot across the grounds towards the gate –
Then hit the dome and disappeared in a shower of silver sparks. Behind him, he heard his father draw a sharp breath. Dumbledore came to stand at his shoulder, peering out the window.
"Sue, Seamus," Ron said simply, turning on his heel. "Get Anthony and Terry. Lockdown mode. We meet in two hours."
The pair nodded, their faces set, and disappeared up the stairs. He heard Theo murmur something to Greengrass before the Slytherin teen slipped up the stairs after them, in lockstep with Dean – sneaky blighter that one is, Ron thought idly, never even heard him coming up behind me.
"Theo," Ron called after them, and the gangly teen paused on the stairwell, glancing back. "Skip the obvious ones."
Theo winced and nodded sharply, turning back and moving quickly after the others.
"Lockdown mode?" Dumbledore questioned curiously, his normally twinkling eyes narrowed, and Ron nodded, his eyes still fixed on the dome.
"Patrols on each level of the castle," he explained. "And a buddy system. Each student in the upper years will be responsible for keeping an eye on one or two of the younger. No one under third year goes anywhere outside classes without a senior year student with them."
"Brilliant," Dumbledore said softly, and Ron smiled grimly as he turned away from the window.
"A Patronus can't get out," he replied. "What do you think can?"
At the foot of the stairs, Harry let out a heavy sigh, his eyes fixed on the giant front door.
"I have a feeling," Harry said slowly, "that the answer is 'not us.'"
The Fortress
Hirta Island, St. Kilna
Outer Hebrides, Scotland
"What the bloody hell was that?" Lou shouted, his eyes wide and hands shaking. He had half-fallen against a chair, and Bill eyed his friend worriedly as he pressed a hand to the back of his head.
A bright light shone from the tip of Neville's wand as the teen stepped forward. Beside him, Lex was murmuring under her breath, and the torches slowly flared back to life.
The Map lay dormant on the table, a bright red bubble hovering over the Hogwarts section of the Map.
"I'm gonna go out on a limb and say something happened at Hogwarts," muttered Deke, and Bill snorted.
"I can't get through anymore," Neville said quietly. The teen had one hand wrapped around the pendant at his throat, eyes squeezed shut. "I don't think they can hear me."
Bill nodded absently, his mouth set in a thin line. With a scowl, he raised his wand and shot off a Patronus, his mind fixed on Harry.
Nothing. His hands began to burn.
Remains of the Burrow
Ottery St Catchpole
Devon, England
"Mum! Slow down, woman!" Fred shouted, a terrible scowl on his face. George's twin raced after their mother as she ducked under a charred beam, then jumped over a crumbling stair. "You'll hurt yourself!"
Their mother ignored him. George sighed. He was tired, he was stressed the bloody hell out, and he was fucking freezing.
The message had come from Bill not twenty minutes before, and his mother had absolutely panicked. She had ways to communicate with Dad, he knew, ways that no one else knew about. And she hadn't been able to reach him either.
Hadn't been able to feel him, she had wept, spinning her wedding band on her finger.
Fred didn't understand why on earth she wanted to come to the Burrow. What she expected to find.
George did.
Their mother skidded to a halt before the giant grandfather clock, her hands shaking. A high, keening cry sounded as she clapped her hands over her mouth. Fred finally shut up.
The spells surrounding the clock really were impressive, George thought inanely, staring at the wreckage that surrounded it. A thick layer of dust and debris coated the surface, but the clock itself was completely intact, the face clear of even a scratch. Percy's Hand was black and immobile, as it had been for months. His, Fred's, and Mum's all said "Home."
The Hands for Bill and Charlie were moving, sliding away from "Working."
And his dad's, Ron's, Ginny's, all spun wildly around the clock face, the hands blurring as they passed over Mortal Peril again and again. Suddenly, Bill and Charlie's Hands began to spin, then snapped to Mortal Peril, then Working, then spun again.
He felt an awful disquiet as he stood in the rubble of his former home, gazing at the clock. As he watched, Fred stepped closer to their mother, putting an arm around her shoulders and leaning down to speak to her. Mum just sobbed, burying her face in his chest.
And then their Hands moved.
"Fred," he said shortly, and his twin looked up at him. George nodded towards the clock, their Hands all pointing towards Mortal Peril. With a whisper under his breath, he sent a Patronus whisking away.
"I had hoped it would be Art," a voice sounded softly behind him, and George spun around, his hand clenched around his wand. In the battered doorframe, the entrance to what used to be the kitchen, a man stood, his face twisted with a bitter sorrow.
George had seen that face before, in old albums hidden in the attic.
"I would have liked the chance to explain," the man whispered, meeting George's eyes.
"You," his mother hissed behind him, and he felt a sudden heat rising on the air. Molly Weasley pulled forcefully out of his twin's grasp and stalked past him, walking right up to Augustus Rookwood. "You traitor!"
"Mum," George said desperately, his throat going dry, "Mum, get back – "
But Rookwood seemed almost amused. "Traitor, am I?" the Death Eater asked, his mouth twisted in a smirk. "My dear Molly, I am entirely loyal to my cause."
"You betrayed my husband," she spat, jabbing him in the chest. "He was your friend, how could you!"
"Never," the man replied simply, wrapping one hand around her wrist and pulling her arm back. George tensed, and behind him, he felt Fred moving closer. "I never betrayed him. Not to the Ministry, not to the Dark Lord." The man's eyes were alight with an eerie glee as he smiled. "I kept his secrets, Molly, me, not you. I still do." He tightened his fist around her small wrist, and George felt his stomach twist in knots as his mother let out a hiss of pain.
Abruptly, the man let go of her, taking a single step back and straightening his robes with a flourish.
"I suppose I've wasted my time coming here," he said with an exaggerated sigh. "Give your father a message for me, will you, boy?" the ex-Unspeakable continued, turning his head to stare straight at George. "Tell him to stay away from Hogwarts. It's for his own good."
"Bit late for that," Fred scoffed, and the man went rigid. A bitter wind kicked up around them and a George shivered, his breath freezing before his eyes. In the back of his mind, he heard the screams of Muggles in their homes, smelled the scent of burning flesh as he moved down Privet Drive battling Fiendfyre. He narrowed his eyes, shaking his head, and forced himself to focus.
There. Two dementors. Just past the treeline. And it didn't seem the others had noticed.
"Arthur is at the school?" the Death Eater was asking his mother in a low, foreboding voice, and Mum just stared at him.
"What did you do," she snarled. "Augie, what did you do?"
The man's jaw clenched and his mouth set in a thin line as he glowered at her. Spinning on his heel, he stalked towards the door, and Mum ran after him with a shout.
"Mum, no!" Fred yelled, jumping forward –
But their mother had already dove at Rookwood, grabbing a fistful of the back of his robes. The man snarled, mid-turn, and lifted one arm to pry her off –
They vanished with a quiet pop.
Little Hangleton Cemetery
Little Hangleton, England
Molly cried out as they landed, her arm twisting painfully under her back and her teeth rattling as her head caught the edge of a stone. With a pained groan, she braced her good hand on the ground and leveraged herself up, staring at her surroundings.
Rookwood had already gotten to his feet, and the man was standing over her, gazing down with a look that was strangely close to pity. With a scowl, Molly pushed to her own feet and met his eyes. She felt a sinking feeling in her stomach as she felt the telltale brush of an Apparition ward.
"Well, I can't let you go now," Rookwood muttered with a frown, and Molly glared.
"What are you doing, Augie?" she asked desperately. "You were Arthur's best man, his best friend. You're Charlie's godfather, for Merlin's sake!"
"Maybe it'll be good for him," Rookwood continued to mutter, turning on his heel and pacing back and forth before the statue of a crouching angel. Molly watched him nervously as he gestured, his wand shooting sparks every few seconds. Where they landed, the grass instantly scorched, and she swallowed, taking a step back. "He always did hold himself back because of you."
"You don't know what you're talking about," Molly spat. Caution forgotten, she slipped one hand into her robes and clenched her fist around her wand.
"I know what he needs," Rookwood murmured to himself. "I always know what he needs." Another shower of red sparks erupted from the tip of his wand, and Molly hissed between her teeth as a stray spark hit the side of her temple. Instantly, her skin blistered, and tears of pain welled in her eyes.
"Yes," he whispered. "Yes, this is for the best." And without another word, he lunged forward, his hands closing around her throat. Molly gasped, her wand coming up and pressing to the back of his head, but before she could so much as think a spell –
Everything went dark.
"Mum!" George screamed, racing forward towards the spot where she had disappeared. "Mum! No!"
"We have to follow it," Fred gasped, choking back a sob. "George, we have to – Georgie!"
The air around them froze and Fred screamed, jerking forward as a robed, scaly arm wrapped around his torso. With a low growl, he spun and raised his wand, "Expecto – "
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw it. The second creature had already lowered its hood, cradling George's face in its hands. His twin crumpled to the ground, his eyes wide and sightless. Fred screamed again, his vision blurring at the edges, and the scaly arm pulled him back –
"Expecto Patronum!" a voice roared, and a giant silver dragon soared overhead, screeching as it divebombed them. The Dementors shrieked, an awful, bone-chilling sound, and soared away, the dragon snapping at the edges of their robes.
"Fred? Fred!" a voice shouted, and Fred jumped as a hand wrapped around his arm, holding him up. He looked up, staring blankly into Charlie's worried face, and shook his head, his eyes burning.
"Mum," he said hoarsely. "He took Mum, and George – "
Something terrible crossed Charlie's face, and Fred lurched forward, pulling out of his brother's grip, and fell to his knees next to his twin. "Georgie? Georgie, get up, we've got to move," he whispered. "George, come on, come on…"
"Fred," Charlie said softly.
"George, get up, Georgie," Fred gasped, tears rolling down his cheeks. "Get up, we're late, get up, get up, get up!"
A pair of arms banded around his chest and he felt himself being pulled backwards. With a snarl, he kicked his legs back, one hand clenching around his wand, and he heard Charlie grunt as his foot connected with a shinbone. His elder brother just sighed, tightening his arms, then pulled him back another step and let go, spinning Fred to face him.
"Fred," he said gently, and Fred shook his head, gasping for breath. "Fred, what happened to Mum?"
"He took her," Fred muttered.
"Who?"
"That bastard," Fred snarled. "He sent them, he had to have sent them."
"Fred, who?" Charlie asked urgently.
"Rookwood."
"Where?"
Fred shivered, his Mum's voice echoing in his mind. Augie, what did you do?
"I don't know," he whispered. "I don't know, I don't – "
Charlie's grip on his shoulders loosened, and his big brother glanced back at the spot where their Mum had vanished. "Okay," he said softly. "Okay. Tonks might know a way to track Mum, but we have to go. There are more Dementors coming, I can feel them."
"I'm not leaving George." Fred gritted his teeth, staring at the unmoving body of his twin.
"Fred, we have to go now."
"I'M NOT LEAVING GEORGE!"
His entire body went cold and he felt tears freezing to his cheeks, his skin burning and his hands shaking. With a shuddering breath, he pushed Charlie's hands away and stepped past him to his twin.
"He's my brother too," Charlie said in a choked voice, like it mattered. "But we can't help him anymore, Fred, and we can't help Percy. We can help the rest of our family, but not if we die here with him."
"Then go," Fred said woodenly. His lungs ached as he dropped back to the ground beside George, reaching out one hand.
Behind him, Charlie sighed. He felt a rush of wind, a pair of strong arms banding around his back –
And everything went black.
Charlie slammed into the ground, his knees buckling under him, and he groaned as the receiving floor shuddered. He heard a shout from behind him and a small pixie face appeared in his vision, reaching out to take Fred's dead weight on one shoulder. Charlie grunted, straightening up, and he picked Fred up, nudging Tonks back as he passed her to lay Fred down on a couch at the edge of the room.
Bill was standing by the table, staring at the Map. He didn't turn around.
"What the bloody hell happened?" Tonks asked urgently, and Fleur frowned worriedly from her post near the door.
"Dementors," Charlie bit out. "George was Kissed. Rookwood has Mum."
"Fred?" Bill asked, looking back over his shoulder. Charlie's back stiffened slightly as he met his elder brother's gaze.
"I had to Stun him," Charlie replied, his voice cracking. "He was hysterical."
"I can try to track the Apparition trail – " Tonks began, and Charlie glared heatedly at his brother.
"That psychopath has Mum," Charlie spat. "Another of our brothers is dead. Think you could pay attention?"
Fleur gasped, tears filling her eyes, and Tonks hissed a breath between her teeth. Off to the side, Lou and the Longbottom kid looked at Bill, then back at him.
Leave, a voice whispered in his mind. You can't change things. Leave all this behind.
Bill still hadn't blinked. "Come look at this," he said softly, and he turned back to the Map.
I really don't give a bloody fuck what you're looking at, if it isn't Mum, he thought angrily, but Charlie stepped forward anyway. Every muscle in his body ached, his joints creaking as he moved, and he swallowed against the sudden surge of dizziness.
Even with Bill opening up the wards for him to Apparate straight into the Fortress – Christ, did it hurt.
And it had taken enough power that he had had to leave George behind.
He closed his eyes, swallowing again and shaking his head as George's face appeared in his mind. With a shaky breath, he opened his eyes, looking down at the Map as he stood beside Bill.
His brother didn't turn, just pressed his wand to the red bubble that floated over Hogwarts. The cursebreaker whispered a spell, a dismal looking grey light appearing at the tip of his wand, and as Charlie watched, it spread over the Map like a slow, metallic ink.
Then the ink turned into a viewing pane, almost like he was looking through a set of Omnioculars. "Holy fuck," Charlie whispered.
They stood in a perfect formation, a semi-circle of vampires stretching as far as he could see. Three deep at least, they were surrounding the outer edges of the Hogwarts grounds, their pale forms immobile. As he stared in horror, the creatures gazed straight ahead, their eyes fixed on a red dome that hovered over the school.
And the dome was shrinking.
"Our sister is in there," Bill explained, his voice eerily calm. Charlie continued to stare. "Ron. Dad. Harry. Hermione, Luna… and hundreds of students. A sea of vampires stands between us and half our family, and hundreds of innocent kids." His brother finally turned, his face set, his eyes dark and shadowed. "We aren't just outnumbered, Chuck," Bill breathed, "we're outnumbered two hundred to one. At least."
"And it gets worse," Lou muttered, and Charlie tore his gaze away from the creepy vampire army. What, he thought, what could be worse?
Leave.
Tonks grimaced, shaking her head. "Bones got a tip a few minutes ago, and she and Scrimgeour went to check it out," his best friend said wearily. "A cemetery in Brighton is empty. And it's likely not the only one."
"What do you mean, empty?" Charlie demanded shrilly, and Tonks cringed.
"She means, as near as they can tell," Lou practically snarled at him, "all the corpses got up and walked away."
Vampires and zombies, Charlie thought, his mind going blank as his blood froze in his veins. Vampires and zombies. We're in a bloody Muggle horror film.
"Time's up," Bill whispered, and Charlie looked up, meeting his older brother's gaze. "This is the beginning of the end, Chuck. I need you to worry about Mum," he continued, his voice trembling slightly at the end. That was, Charlie realized, the first show of emotion he had seen from his elder brother in days. "I have to figure out how to get in there. And how to get everyone out."
The Remains of the Burrow
Ottery St. Catchpole
Devon, England
George's body was gone.
Charlie stood in the wreckage and swallowed back bile, his stomach and mind rebelling as he stared at the spot where his little brother had fallen. The pile of debris just sat there, unmoving, as though it were taunting him.
His house was destroyed. Two of his brothers were dead. One was… different. And his mother was missing.
And somehow, his brother's body was gone.
Don't you miss your dragons? Your simple life?
"Shack is better at this," Tonks was muttering, her lime green eyes narrowed as she stared at the spot that used to be the entrance to the kitchen. At her side, Fleur frowned, resting a hand on Tonks' shoulder.
"Kingsley ees stuck een ze school," the part-Veela whispered. "You must do what you can."
Charlie jerked his gaze away from the spot where George should have been lying. Had the Dark Tosser made his baby brother a zombie? Could it be done that fast?
"It's alright, Dora," he said, forcing a hint of cheer into his voice. His best friend cut her eyes over at him then sighed, her face falling. With a sharp nod, she ground her teeth and let out a slow breath, then clenched her small fist around her wand. As Charlie watched, she stepped forward, her free hand raised with her palm flat. She closed her eyes and whispered something under her breath, and a small blue nimbus of light appeared from the tip of her wand.
Tonks hissed between her teeth, a bead of sweat appearing on her forehead, and the blue light spread, dripping down like wet paint on a wall. Her hands began to shake and Fleur jumped forward, wrapping her arms around the smaller woman's torso and pulling Tonks back against her chest. The part-Veela's hair began to glow with a red tinge, and her nails sharpened and grew, turning darker, thicker.
A strange euphoria stole over him, and he felt a sudden, violent surge of lust build in his blood. Charlie shifted uncomfortably as the air grew heavy and his trousers tightened. A few feet away and still wrapped in Fleur's arms, Tonks let out a gasp, straightening back up and clenching her jaw. A sudden boom sounded, the ground shaking under their feet, and the blue dripping light turned into a glowing wave, shades of blue swirling and racing through the air.
"Charlie!" Fleur shouted, and Charlie jumped forward, grabbing her outstretched hand. The ground shook once more and the light wave surged forward – it felt almost like a giant, slimy hand racing over his skin –
And then he blinked.
They were standing on the edge of a cemetery. The air was thick with fog, mist rolling over the lonely, untended headstones. The sun was shining brightly overhead, the light hitting the mist and making the air almost blinding. Charlie squinted against the light, scanning his eyes over their surroundings. It was an eerie kind of beautiful there. The bird were singing in the trees. A breeze was teasing at the leaves overhead. Everything was so beautiful. And hazy. Wasn't he supposed to be upset about something?
Beside him, Fleur let out a shaky breath and unwound her arms from around Tonks' frame. The metamorph stumbled slightly as Fleur stepped back, grunting as she righted herself. The strange sense of pleasure began to fade. With a snort, Charlie shook his head, squeezing Fleur's hand before letting go.
"Do me a favor," he grinned at his future sister-in-law. "Never tell Bill."
Fleur shot him a vicious grin in return, and Tonks laughed under her breath as she shook her hands out, wincing. "Ditto," the ex-Auror breathed, then she turned away and took a step forward. Charlie watched her go for a moment, then turned his attention back to Fleur, a sudden worry gnawing at his mind. He knew he was supposed to be upset about something. A girl. Something to do with a girl.
"That didn't hurt the sprog, did it?" he asked urgently, and Fleur stared at him, her jaw dropping slightly.
"Que?" she murmured, her eyes wide, and Charlie grinned at her again.
"Come on," he replied, shaking his head. "I spend my time wrangling mama dragons. You think I don't know one when I see one?"
Fleur continued to stare, her eyes narrowing, and Charlie raised an eyebrow. Off to their right somewhere, Tonks murmured helpfully, "He just called you a dragon, hon."
"Oui," Fleur replied, not looking away from Charlie, who felt himself go pale. "I heard."
"I didn't – I don't mean – " Charlie spluttered, and Fleur's face transformed, a slow smile forming on her face as he floundered. He huffed under his breath, rolling his eyes as she began to giggle at his panic, and he scoffed, rubbing a hand over his face.
"I'm hoping for a girl," he offered finally. "I want a little niece to spoil."
Her smile turned dazzling, and Charlie felt lightheaded as the allure in the air rose again. With a grunt, he clenched his teeth and closed his eyes, struggling for control. After a few sharp breaths, he opened his eyes and smiled ruefully at Fleur, who was watching him with a sad look on her face. The red tint was slowly starting to fade from her hair, her nails returning to their normal, perfect manicure.
"Sorry," she whispered, and Charlie shook his head. "When I let eet out, eet is – "
"It worked," he replied. "We're here. Don't apologize."
Then the euphoria finally lifted, and it hit him like a train wreck. Fred. George. Mum.
"Look at this," Tonks said in a low, somber voice, and Charlie spun towards her, his eyes flashing as the anger rose back up. His best friend was kneeling beside a statue of a crouched angel, peering at a headstone. He took a few steps forward, Fleur at his heels, and looked where she pointed.
Blood.
With a shaky breath, Tonks tapped her wand on the bloodied spot, murmuring under her breath. As Charlie stared, the blood beaded up and slid across the surface, forming an unmistakeable face.
"She's alive," Fleur whispered, reaching out to squeeze Charlie's arm, and he gritted his teeth.
For now, he thought, his mother's face flashing through his mind.
Tonks wasn't moving, still staring at the spot on the headstone. Suddenly, she spoke. "This doesn't make sense," she murmured.
"What?" Charlie ground out.
"It doesn't make sense," she said again. She shook her head, worrying her lip between her teeth. "Rookwood was an Unspeakable. One of the best. He knows better than to leave evidence lying around. And I don't see any other sign of – "
"Perhaps e knew someone would follow?" Fleur suggested, her voice shaking slightly. Her accent thickened, and Charlie felt her fingers tighten around his bicep. "'e likes to play games, non? Thees ees a way to cause more 'urt."
"Maybe," Tonks muttered. "Or maybe it was a trigger." She looked up, locking eyes with Charlie, and he felt his blood run cold. "How many graves do you reckon there are in Britain?"
Fleur gasped, and Charlie clenched his teeth again as her grip tightened further. In front of him, Tonks was slowly, carefully, rising to her feet, and he looked past her, his eyes scanning the treeline.
It was silent. The birds weren't singing. Suddenly, a loud chorus of squawking sounded, and a thunderous beat of wings echoed on the air as hundreds of birds took off, flying towards the sun.
"Que?" Fleur whispered, and Charlie reached into his pocket as Tonks clenched her hand around her wand, her knuckles going white.
Then Fleur screamed, her grip turning bruising, and Charlie spun towards her as he felt the Frenchwoman being ripped away. The ground burst open at their feet, and he stared as a rotted hand wrapped around Fleur's ankle, dragging her to the ground.
"Incendio!" Charlie shouted, his wand aimed at the hand, and the flames licked at Fleur's leg as they raced by. A guttural shriek sounded from beneath the ground as the hand pulled back, the smell of burning flesh hitting his nostrils. He grabbed Fleur's hand and pulled her back on her feet, the part-Veela already drawing her wand in her other hand.
The ground shook, and he spun again, staring in horror as plot after plot erupted, hands appearing from beneath the dirt, reaching for the sky. A low, rattling groan began to sound all around them and he felt his blood run cold, his breath almost freezing in his chest as he stared at the ground.
"Let's go!" Tonks grabbed Charlie's other arm and pulled, and he shook himself, his jaw clenching as he turned and raced for the road, still holding Fleur's hand. Tonks followed a step behind, looking back over her shoulder as she shot flames off behind them. The rattling sound grew louder, closer, and Charlie felt his entire body begin to shake as he continued to run. They reached the road and he skidded to a halt, grabbing onto Tonks' sleeve with his free hand and he closed his eyes, concentrating as hard as he could –
Nothing.
"Anti-Apparition wards," Tonks ground out, and he spun back around, staring at the wall of Inferi. Dozens had struggled fully out of the ground, lurching across the field as bits of skin and muscle crumbled off their decayed bodies. The awful smell of burning flesh filled the air as Tonks shot off another jet of flames, unholy screams echoing in the air.
"Portkey?" Charlie barked, and Tonks shook her head.
"Blocked!" she called back, and Fleur growled under her breath.
"Move," she hissed, shaking off Charlie's grip, and he grabbed at her arm, trying to pull her back.
"I don't think you can seduce the zombies, Fleur!" he called, panic rising. Fuck. Bill would kill him if –
Fleur shot him a poisonous look over her shoulder, then turned forward and raised her hands in front of her, elbows bent. With a cry of pain, she clenched her fingers and pushed, and balls of flame soared out of her hands. They shot through the air, colliding with the stumbling zombies, and Charlie watched as three of the creatures turned to ash in an instant.
Fleur shook out her hands, wincing as the skin blistered, then raised her arms again. Beside her, Tonks nodded sharply, her mouth set in a thin line, and raised her wand.
It wouldn't be enough. Charlie looked out at the field before them, the hundreds of stumbling creatures that were snarling their way towards them. Behind him, a small, sleepy village was waking up, doors opening and unsuspecting Muggles racing to the street to investigate the noise.
Right. This was about to be a massacre. And that definitely qualified as an emergency situation, right?
What the fuck. It had worked for Dad, hadn't it? With a shaky breath, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a small brass whistle, and pressed it to his lips.
And blew.
A deafening thunder crack sounded above them and the ground shook beneath his feet. Tonks and Fleur both spun in place, staring at him, and Charlie gritted his teeth as every creature in the field focused their empty eye sockets on him.
"Go!" Charlie shouted, as the two women stared at him. "To the village! Find a stone building and get everyone inside!"
The rattling sound grew louder, filling his ears, and Tonks' voice echoed dully in the background. "What about you?" she said lowly, her eyes fixed on his.
"I have to direct," he replied. His heart thundered in his chest and red started to form at the edges of his vision. Glancing over at Fleur, his eyes lingered on her belly before he whispered, "Tonks, she's pregnant."
Tonks glanced back over her shoulder as Fleur visibly bristled. Looking up, she locked eyes with Charlie, letting out a slow, shaky breath.
"Save my niece," Charlie whispered, his voice trembling, and Tonks nodded. Before his eyes, she began to swell, her arms turning to bulging, solid muscle. With a grunt, she reached out and grabbed Fleur's arm, dragging the now-smaller woman further toward the road.
"Non!" Fleur shrieked, her beautiful face twisting with fear and anger. "Non! Que fais-tu? We can't leave him!"
Charlie turned his back, squeezing his eyes shut as the Frenchwoman continued to shout. Clenching his hand around the whistle, he blew again, opening his eyes and staring at the stumbling horde of the dead as Fleur's cries grew distant.
Sorry, Mum, he thought, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. I don't think I'm going to find you.
The snarling grew closer, and Charlie stood his ground, swallowing roughly as one of the creatures stumbled within reach of him. The dead thing raised its arm, its mouth wide, and he closed his eyes –
And then he heard it, the harsh beating of wings above him, the unearthly cry. He jumped backwards, swearing a blue streak as the jet of flames hit the earth just inches from his feet, and he tripped over an exposed root and stumbled to the ground. Empty, rattling screams sounded all around him and he opened his eyes, feeling a surge of triumph as he looked up at the sky.
The Ukrainian Ironbelly hovered in the air above him, chains still dangling from her poor, emancipated frame. The dragon snorted, puffs of smoke coming out of her nostrils, and Charlie laughed hollowly as he shoved back to his feet.
"This is more like it," he breathed, and he sheathed his wand and ran forward, even as the Ironbelly began to dip down towards the ground. With a running leap, he landed on her back and scrambled upwards, wrapping his arms around her neck. The dragon turned her head and nudged at him with her snout, snorting again, and he froze as she stared him down. Finally, with almost a human-like nod, she turned away, flapping her wings and rising up. An incredible roar echoed as she opened her mouth, sending another jet of flames back down at the ground.
He held on for dear life, craning his neck to try to see the road, where Tonks was – hopefully – still spiriting Fleur and the sprog to safety. The movement almost unbalanced him and he swore, tightening his grip and turning his head back to the cemetery.
The creatures were still rising, the ground crumbling away as they shoved free of their graves. Below him, a cloud of smoke wafted up as more Inferi crumbled away to ash. He clenched his teeth, his heart pounding in his ears, and looked over the cemetery. There were just too many of the fucking things.
Then a Welsh Green soared across the sky, and he burst into laughter.
Headmaster's Office
Hogwarts
"I'm fine, Poppy, I promise," Lupin said wearily as the door swung open. Ron glanced their way, his eyes narrowed on the ex-Professor, then turned back to the others as Lupin shot him a tight-lipped smile.
"I just really think that – " the matron began, shutting the door gently behind herself. Dumbledore shot Pomfrey a quelling look from behind his desk, and she fell silent. Shaking her head, she let out a tired sigh. Lupin smiled ruefully and conjured her a chair, squeezing her shoulder lightly as she sat, then moved around the circle to conjure his own chair at the edge. Ginny and Luna immediately shot over to his side, Ginny levitating their chairs with them.
"Alright," Harry said impatiently, and Ron bit back an inappropriately-timed grin. "So what do we know, and what do we have to do?"
"The students are secure," Ron replied, turning his DA Coin idly in his left hand. "Sue checked in thirty minutes ago. Everyone is at their post."
"Slytherin?" Shacklebolt questioned, and Ron shot him a grimace.
"Theo and Greengrass are handling that."
"What about Zabini?" Lupin asked quietly, and Ginny snorted.
"He's helping, doing whatever Theo tells him to do. But he doesn't know the whole plan," Ginny explained, shaking her head with a scowl.
"Do we?" Krum grumbled, frowning darkly, and Ginny shot him a look.
"Evacuating the students has to be the main concern," Ron's dad murmured, and Ron glanced over at his father, seated near the fireplace, his hands clasped together and his elbows resting on his knees. "The fact that they are just circling the school, and waiting…"
"That ward is shrinking," Harry said darkly. "Whatever it is. I don't like the thought of what happens when it touches the school."
"Which is why evacuating the students is of utmost importance," Lupin nodded, exchanging a dark look with Shack, and Ron frowned.
"And that includes you five," Arthur Weasley said sharply, sending a warning look at his only daughter.
Ron glanced over at Hermione, sitting quietly next to his father, and he frowned at her. His best friend shook her head, her eyes sliding over towards Harry.
Harry, who had barely blinked since Lupin had told them Hagrid was dead.
"You really think Voldemort is going to let me leave?" Harry asked quietly.
A heavy silence fell over the room. Dumbledore pushed to his feet and moved over to stare out the window.
"Whatever else we do," Hermione began quietly, and Ron turned to look at her. "We need to figure out what that dome is. I have some books I borrowed, I can start – "
Borrowed. Harry met his eyes, grinning for the first time in hours, and Ron grinned back. More likely, Hermione had some books she had liberated from Bill's personal library.
"– eliminating possibilities, Headmaster, with your help?" Hermione glanced at the back of Dumbledore's head, then at Lupin. "And you, as well, Professor."
Lupin inclined his head, a polite smile on his face.
"Yes, well, you do that," Harry said simply, scowling. "I think the rest of us need to figure out what to do when Voldemort gets here."
"Leave that to me," Dumbledore said softly, and Harry stared at him.
"I can't just – "
A sudden movement near the wall drew Ron's eye, and he turned to see Shack leaning forward, his eyes fixed on Hermione's face. "Hermione," the burly Auror rumbled quietly, and Ron and Harry both spun to see the girl sway slightly in her seat. Beside him, Krum tensed. Hermione let out a gasp and slumped forward, and Ron shot to his feet.
Shack was across the room before anyone could blink, and he slid his arms under Hermione's tiny frame, catching her before she hit the ground. Her eyes were fluttering open and closed, her breathing ragged, and as Ron stared, a rippling motion went over her skin, almost like –
No, exactly like. It was exactly like a glamour fading.
And then Shack was crouched on the floor, holding his best friend, whose skin had just turned blue. Brownish-black veins ran through her face, across her skin everywhere he could see. Her chest was slowly rising and falling, and Ron felt his heart stop. He stared as Ginny jumped up and ran across the room, falling to her knees beside Hermione.
She'd told him. She had told him she was sick.
This wasn't sick.
"What the bloody hell," Harry said in a low voice. Ginny shot him a look.
"Move," Pomfrey said roughly, and Ginny scooted back, one hand wrapped around Hermione's. Pomfrey knelt beside the unconscious girl, waving her wand shakily. A number shot out of her wand and flew into the air beside Hermione, and the mediwitch swore.
Ron had a feeling '95' was not something she wanted to see.
"It isn't time for another treatment yet," Lupin whispered, staring at the girl. "Why – "
"Out of ze vay," Krum growled, and the Bulgarian moved forward, placing a hand on Hermione's shoulder. "Ginny. Lab."
Ron stared at his sister as she nodded at Krum and shot to her feet, running for the door. In the center of the room, Krum pressed a small medallion in his hand, and the group vanished.
"Stress can do terrible things to the body," Dumbledore said quietly, looking over at Lupin. "Likely it just made the process quicker."
Ron swallowed, forcing back the dull panic in his mind, and looked at Harry. The other Gryffindor was staring at the spot where Hermione had just lain, his face expressionless. Slowly, he turned his head and looked at Lupin, then Dumbledore.
"You knew," the Potter heir hissed, his voice chilling. "You knew, and you didn't tell us."
"Harry – " Dumbledore began, and Ron winced.
"You knew my best friend was dying, and you didn't tell me?" The temperature in the room began to drop, and Ron glanced over at the glass next to his father. It was vibrating in place, the liquid inside sloshing almost to the rim. He winced as he felt the chair under him begin to shake.
"Harry, son," Ron's father began, "she didn't want to worry – "
Harry's face went red, and the glass exploded. "How dare you?" he shouted, and turning on his heel, he stalked out of the room.
Ron let out a shaky breath as the room warmed again. He glanced over at Luna, who was staring at the floor with teary eyes. After a second, she looked up, bit her lip, and nodded, then raced out of the room after Harry.
Lupin, his father, and Dumbledore all just looked at him, varying degrees of sadness and pity on their faces.
"Can they save her?" Ron asked quietly, and his father crossed the room to clasp his shoulder.
"The treatments they have been doing have worked all summer, son," Arthur Weasley said gently. "It isn't a cure yet, but it's keeping her alive."
He nodded, closing his eyes for a moment, then stepped back and shrugged off his father's hands.
"Who came up with it?" he murmured, and his father and Lupin exchanged a nervous glance. Ron narrowed his eyes, looking over at the Headmaster.
"Severus figured out how to keep her alive," Dumbledore said softly, and Ron stared.
"You're joking," he said flatly.
"I am not," the Headmaster replied.
Holy. Mother. Of Merlin.
"You know, Headmaster," Ron said, his voice calm and matter of fact, "for a genius, you can be pretty goddamned fucking stupid sometimes."
The air in the room froze again, and Dumbledore's eyes hardened as his father hissed "Ronald!"
"I beg your pardon?" Dumbledore said quietly, and Ron snorted.
"You do realize that Snape and Dolohov are old buddies, right?" he shot back. "Of course, you'd know all about having questionable old friends, I suppose. Well, I guess you also know Snape used to invent spells, don't you?"
His father and Lupin were still staring at him. Lupin had a strange glint in his eyes, his father's face a blank mask.
"How did you know that?" Dumbledore questioned, his eyes still hard, and Ron scowled at the man.
"You might have trusted Snape," he said simply, "but I don't. You didn't really think I was going to let him waltz around inside my mind without some sort of protection, did you? So as soon as I could figure out how, I did a little exploring of my own."
"There is no way that you managed Legilimency on Severus Snape," Dumbledore dismissed, waving a hand, and Ron grinned.
"Not past the surface, I'll grant you," he acknowledged. His breath came out in a cold mist as the room's temperature dipped het again. "He's light years beyond me – for now, at least. But I saw enough." His grin turned to a stony glare. "I know how he thinks, Headmaster, how he operates. And you clearly don't."
"What exactly are you trying to suggest, young man?" the Headmaster scowled at him, his blue eyes flashing.
"I'm not suggesting anything," Ron said simply, as Lupin closed his eyes and his father continued to stare. "I'm saying it. Point blank. He gave Dolohov that spell, so he could swoop in and play the hero, and gain some level of control and power over her. And mark my words, there is something in that treatment that is keeping her sick."
"Severus wouldn't – " Dumbledore began, but Lupin was shaking his head.
"Severus would," the ex-Professor said softly, his eyes flashing amber.
Ron's father said nothing, meeting his eyes with a level stare.
"Right," Ron nodded sharply, as Dumbledore continued to glower at him. "I don't know what you plan to do," Ron said, clearing his throat. "But I need to go check on my friends, then make sure the DA is organized and ready." He glanced around the room, shaking his head. "Maybe one of the three of you can figure out a way out of this mess."
And turning on his heel, he made for the door.
"Ronald," Dumbledore called sharply, and he looked back over his shoulder. The Headmaster looked old and tired, he realized, like all the fight had just vanished from his body. "If you were truly in Severus's mind, and you didn't see anything that proved he had done such terrible things… surely he doesn't deserve these accusations you're making towards him?"
And suddenly, Ron understood. It was pride, wasn't it? The poor old man just didn't want to believe he'd been wrong about another friend.
"Everyone is the hero of their own story, Headmaster," he said softly. "That doesn't mean a thing."
And he slipped out the door, taking the stairs out of the Headmaster's chambers three at a time. Before he hit the landing, he had reached out to Ginny, and her voice was chattering away in his head as he swept off towards the dungeons.
For the love of all that's holy, Mione, just hold on.
Astronomy Tower
Hogwarts
Harry leaned against the edge and looked down over the grounds, his eyes scanning along the line of vampires. They looked so small from such a height, and yet –
And yet, that group could overwhelm all of their fighters within moments, he knew.
Would it be so terrible, to just jump? Maybe all of this would end with him.
Maybe your friends would have to keep fighting without you, he thought angrily at himself. At least for now you can still help them, you selfish sod.
The soft sound of footfalls came from behind him and he tensed slightly, closing his eyes for a moment before letting out a shaky breath and opening them again.
"I'm not ready to apologize yet," he said simply, and he felt Luna smile.
"I didn't ask you to do that," she replied quietly, and slipped her hand in his. Harry sighed, squeezing her hand. The inexplicable calmness that Luna seemed to carry settled into him.
"Hagrid was my first friend," he whispered, and Luna leaned her head on his shoulder.
"I know."
"I can't lose her too."
"Harry," Luna murmured, "we won't."
"You can't know that," he muttered back, frustration seeping back in, and Luna reached up and pushed his fringe back from his eyes.
"I had two jobs," she told him seriously. "I've already finished one."
Harry stared at her, scowling, but then he let out another sigh and shook his head. He had no idea what she was talking about, but that wasn't new. He'd learned a while back that there was no point in arguing with Serious Luna. She would just smile and make wild comments until he forgot what they were disagreeing about.
He hated being managed.
"Okay," he said simply. Shaking his head again, he turned back to the front gates, gazing down at the vampire army. "If we are going to figure out how to fix this, we need to figure out what he's waiting for."
"That's easy," Luna replied, her entire frame drooping. Harry glanced down at her questioningly, and she met his eyes with a sad smile. "You."
The Fortress
Hirta Island, St. Kilna
Outer Hebrides, Scotland
He hadn't moved for hours. Noises and voices washed over him, muted and far away. He stood motionless, staring down at the map, even as Neville left the room saying Fred was trying to leave – as Pye rushed in demanding to see Fleur's hands – as Charlie stomped into the room, smelling of smoke, shouting at Fleur for coming back for him, and Tonks for letting her – as Scrimgeour and Bones returned, speaking of empty cemeteries all over England –
As he didn't hear his Mum's voice, or any mention of her.
He didn't move. He remained, his eyes fixed on the viewing panel in the Map, watching the army of vampires watch the shrinking red dome.
A hand rested on his shoulder and he jerked out of his trance, looking up to meet Rosmerta's eyes. His former mentor smiled at him sadly, her eyes dark and tired. She opened her mouth to speak –
"It doesn't make sense," Bill muttered, and her forehead crinkled. She pressed her lips together in a thin line, raising one eyebrow as she gazed back at him. Off to his right somewhere, he could feel Fleur's eyes on him, could sense her worry and fear like a cloud.
The static crackled in between his fingers, coursed through his blood, and he swore roughly in the back of his mind. He was way beyond overdue for a course, and there was no way he could get to Gringotts anytime soon. If Gringotts was even there anymore.
Bloody hell, he was going to self-destruct, and take everyone with him. He felt his skin begin to burn along his veins, the color begin to fade from his vision.
"What doesn't?" Rosmerta asked gently.
"It doesn't – it doesn't make sense!" Bill shouted, spinning on his heel. His foot caught on the chair behind him and he shoved it away with an angry snarl, the sparks from his hands singing the wood. He heard Fleur draw in a sharp breath, saw Lou and Alex shifting nervously out of the corner of his eye, and he closed his eyes, drawing a slow, steady breath. When he opened his eyes, he turned back to Rosmerta, ignoring the rest of the room.
"We knew Voldemort was likely to attack on Halloween," he said slowly. "We had inside information. But he's already moved – he has the school surrounded. What is he waiting for?"
"The veil is thinnest on Samhain," Rosmerta replied, her face calm, her eyes shadowed. "Maybe it's easiest to raise the – "
"Then why are half the bloody cemeteries in England already empty?" he demanded roughly, shoving a hand into his hair. "No. We're missing something. There's something else."
"Maybe he's waiting for someone on ze inside to do something," Fleur said slowly. Bill glanced at her and she met his eyes evenly, a look of deep sorrow in her gaze. He looked away, feeling the sting rise back up. In the back of his mind, the voice began to whisper. With a scowl, he began pacing up and down the length of the table, his eyes resting on the Map.
"We had a contingency plan for that," Tonks responded immediately. "The DA had already assigned watchdogs to keep an eye on the marked students. They will have put it into action as soon as this happened."
"There's gonna be at least one we don't know about," Scrimgeour growled, his face twisted in a scowl. "Hell, Malfoy's spawn is in there."
Neville snorted, shooting Scrimgeour a look.
Bill flexed his hands as his skin of his fingers began to give off heat. He shook his head again, frowning. "It's more than that," he said simply. "This is different, this is personal – "
He froze, his eyes fixed on the Map, on the undead creatures staring at the school, and then he saw it. The memory of the Chamber rose up, the chilling voice, the floating blue particles, the visions – Ron and Ginny, covered in grime. Harry and Hermione, covered in blood. His mother crying. A graveyard.
"Why are there no Inferi at the school?" he said suddenly, and Fleur and Charlie drew in sharp breaths.
Bones stepped forward, her eyes fixed on the Map, her stocky frame rigid. Her kids were in there too, he suddenly remembered, and he felt a surge of pity. "No graveyards near the school," she pointed out. "Maybe they just aren't there yet."
Bill shook his head again. "This is personal," he murmured. He closed his eyes, picturing the graveyard again from the visions, and focused.
And saw the name "Potter," etched into the headstones.
Opening his eyes, he spun around and demanded, "Where are Harry's parents buried?"
It was cold.
Molly groaned as she opened her eyes, blinking rapidly. Blood dripped steadily from the gash above her eyebrow and her stomach roiled as she lifted her good arm, pressing her hand to her forehead. With a grunt, she placed her other hand flat on the ground and shoved herself upright, gasping for breath as a sharp pain stabbed through her chest. She gritted her teeth and scooted backwards, leaning up against the stone wall, and struggled for breath.
Resting her head against the stone wall, she blinked several more times before the room came fully into focus. She was in a crypt, somewhere – it was light outside, there was sunlight streaming in through a stained glass window opposite her. Reaching into her pocket slowly, she drew out her wand and smiled.
The arrogant tosser hadn't even disarmed her.
Okay, Molly, she thought to herself. Time to take stock.
The space was small, she saw as she looked around, and decrepit, like no one had been in there for a while. Off to her right was a small workstation, books and small phials placed neatly on the surface.
Dust covered every surface in the room – except that one.
She braced herself against the wall and took a deep breath, shoving upwards and to her feet. With a gasp, she righted herself as the world started to spin, and she forced herself to take slow, deep breaths as her stomach rebelled.
Concussed, she thought with a sting of annoyance. Wonderful.
With a shaky hand, she pushed off the wall and swayed in place, swallowing against a fresh wave of nausea. A few heartbeats passed and she ground her teeth again, taking slow, careful steps towards the workstation. She reached out and curled her fingers around the large stone coffin as she walked, leaning slightly on the structure for balance.
A rustling sounded suddenly, and she froze, looking back over her shoulder. Nothing. She let out a shaky breath and pushed forward.
The table was stacked with books, parchments, and she rifled through them quickly, looking for anything that might tell her what Rookwood was about. With a frown, she thumbed through the most worn-looking book, and halfway through, she gasped. Pressing her free hand to her mouth, she stared down at the page, her heart thudding in her chest.
Behind her, the sound of stone scraping on stone echoed through the crypt. She closed her eyes, tears springing up behind her eyelids, and set the book down with steady hands. She already knew what she would find. Clenching her hand around her wand, she let out a slow, deep breath, and turned.
The stone coffin was open, the lid shoved slightly to the side, and something was sitting up, rising slowly from the grave. The creature turned its head, a low, rumbling snarl coming from its skeletal mouth –
"Gideon?" she whispered.
A/N: The dragon scenes with Charlie were blatantly inspired by Game of Thrones. And also, pieces of these next few chapters, this one included, will have bits and pieces of HBP and Deathly Hallows in them.
On another note, I gotta admit… when I read HBP for the first time, and I got to the cave scene with Harry and Dumbledore… my first thought was "so you're telling me Voldemort learned how to make zombies, and he didn't raise every single grave in Britain? Okay." Talk about under-utilizing your resources.
Being an adult now, and not a young teenager, I understand that
—These were begun and intended as children's books. There is only so far you can go in a young adult novel and
—JKR's/the original Voldemort was still trying to be subtle, to take over by fear and politics, backroom bartering and subversion. My version of her villain? He's over the tactics and going straight for the jugular. He doesn't want to take over in the shadows. He's already lost too much time trying that, and his patience is gone. He wants to bring the world to its' knees.
But still. I read HBP and immediately thought "he should have raised them all."
…it was then that I realized my mind was just not created to tell happy-go-lucky stories. I apologize for the trauma this may have caused.
~*~ALIBI