She knew something was wrong. More than normal.

The forest was quiet. Still. No birds. No rustling animals. She knew what it meant.

Magic scarring.

The only question was if she should run forward or backward. Toward potential danger. Toward potential safety.

"Damn it," muttered Ida Hastings, rushing forward. Magic scarring didn't last long, not unless the damage was severe.

She felt the barrier like a blast of wind, stumbling onto the site. A tent, fairly small, though that meant nothing where wizards were involved. Especially with the interior so clearly strewn across the ground. Clothes, heaps of them, some ripped. A chair missing one leg. A slim mattress bleeding its stuffing. Random books with their pages torn out.

"Ah, that's just rude," Ida murmured, picking up the largest, trying to tuck the sheaf of loose papers back in. Dark and Dangerous Creatures and What We Might Learn from Them. "God, what a title."

She stacked the books, then pulled them into the tent. The tent was no less of a mess, a lantern lying on its side, a table upside down, a few more chairs. All collecting dust.

Ida was beyond impressed. The charms on the tent, the way it sat undetectable save to the wildlife? It was astonishing.

"How'd they get you?" Ida hummed, scanning the tent. She set the books down on the upturned table and moved toward one last stray one. It was very different. She frowned, flipping through the pages. It was a photo book. Her eye twitched.

She knew that red hair.

The freckles.

"Weasleys," she groaned, squinting further at the photos. It seemed more about the girl than the Weasleys. She featured in all, whereas the Weasleys and a dark-haired boy rotated-

"No." Her hands shook as she tried to tug the photo out. She'd broken, then lost, her glasses two months past narrowly escaping Snatchers. Her name wasn't on a list. It was on The List.

Not Mudblood or Blood Traitor. Potential member of Dumbledorian Underground Society.

All because she'd fucked Charlie goddamn Weasley.

First, they'd come to her moderately sized (but well-furnished) apartment, asking if she was hiding Charlie or any members of his rather extensive family. She was fine with that. They pulled her pieces from the papers, though. Every little resource she'd left at the office about Death Eater presence in the Ministry? Up in smoke, with her job, and her paycheck, and her boss's head. That wasn't so bad; she had enough to start making plans. A little nest egg of money, both Wizarding and Muggle, for when shit really hit the fan. Then they came back, trashed the place, dragged her out by her hair, and demanded to know when her father had stolen magic from a wizard. If he had used it to bewitch her mother. If she had stolen magic as well. If that was why she had run with blood traitors in her schooling days.

It was at that point that she had started to resent the only man she'd come close to loving.

"God damn it, Charlie," whispered Ida. She tried getting the photo far enough away that she could actually see which of the red-headed devils it was. They looked like babies. Little freckled, idiot babies. God, they must've been . . . Well, the twins would be older. Twenty or twenty-one? That made her feel old. It looked like the bushy-haired girl was close with the twins. And another one, more lanky. And the dark-haired stranger whose face was the most recognizable in the British Wizarding community.

Harry Potter.

If only she could remember their damned names. She knew Percy because he'd been an obnoxious, way too curious twat from the moment she'd very publicly kissed Charlie and grabbed his ass.

Yeah, that one was on her.

Bill was easy to remember because he was arguably as attractive as Charlie. Bill was the goal at the end of puberty, as far as most the boys in her year had been concerned. Charlie was still in the thick of it, but Ida had always seen his potential. He was full of it.

"Gah, focus," Ida grumbled to herself. The twins. Named after Charlie's mum's brothers. One of them waved from the book in her hands. She wished she had her damned glasses.

"Fred and George," she supplied quietly. She felt stupid that it'd taken so long. She'd spent one Christmas in the thick of it with them. Their mum was not incredibly fond of her at first, and it was easy to help them. They were full of good ideas, but their execution usually involved a level of grandiose showmanship that she didn't care for and made them very easy to catch. Their brand, they called it. Now they actually had one.

"Doesn't matter," Ida said, shaking the photo. The girl was one of the people who'd been here. Or one of the twins? It was a riddle. Just a riddle. A tent in the woods. A photo book inside. Two prominent figures, one red-headed and an identical twin. Maybe three prominent figures then? The odd one out bushy-haired. Then another red-head and Harry fucking Potter.

The last time she'd seen Charlie was that summer, before everything had gone to shit. She'd asked about his family, not out of obligation, but because of the headache that had him leaving her bed in the dead of the night.

Yeah, she wasn't great at the whole decision making thing yet. No, she was good at it. Except when Charlie showed up at her door, leaned against the frame, grinned at her, and said, "I'm back."

He'd done it four times since leaving the damned country. Never quite exactly the same, but never anything more or less tempting.

"You nostalgic bitch, you need to figure out if Harry Potter was here or not," Ida fit the photo back into the book. She went through it again. "Answers not in the book. Gotta look somewhere else."

She went through the tent. Then the wreckage outside.

There was no answer. Why should there be? Investigative reporter her ass.

What would she do anyway? If Snatchers had found Harry Potter long enough that there was dust in his tent? They were dead or he was. She wasn't in touch with the world to know well enough which. Or his friends had been taken, to whatever end. There was no way to follow them.

The urge to do something remained. Charlie called it her Do or Die Sense. A magic all her own, pushing her to do reckless things for good cause. The thing that made her Gryffindor. The thing that made her stay with him even after the bet's terms were fulfilled. He'd known the whole time. He just liked her. And she just liked him. The bet was extra incentive. No more.

Except now, the fiend would occasionally bet her to do things just to see how far he could push her. And he usually found things just this side of too far.

"Now what?" Ida asked herself. She didn't have many options. Keep on the run. Keep hiding. That's all she could do.

Her fists clenched. It wasn't good enough.

Charlie was in a Dumbledorian Underground Society. It was the worst idea she'd ever heard of. And he had refused to tell her anything substantive about it.

"It doesn't belong in the damned paper, Ida," he'd told her once. "It's . . . Covert."

"Ah, well excuse me for being curious."

"The things you find curious usually end up in the public eye."

"You haven't."

"Yet."

"Get out of your damn head," Ida chided herself. She needed to move on. She'd lingered too long.

"Good thinking, Sinclair. Thought a modified Caterwauling Charm was a bit much, but I suppose not."

She nearly jumped out of her skin. She turned slowly, wand in hand, eyeing the photo book where it lay, still open, where she'd left it.

"Fred's been dating some mystery girl for Merlin knows how long. Thinks the world will fall apart if people find out."

A flick and the photo book was burning.

"Evening boys," Ida said tightly. A little jiggle, and the flames leapt across to the wall of the tent. She exited calmly, watching the Snatchers. Four. She'd faced more.

She didn't like the look of them though. The glint in their eyes. She knew that. Too well.

Her grip tightened, and the flames went soaring upward.

"You don't wanna fuck with me," Ida said softly. "If you leave, you can live."

They scoffed. One laughed. "That's cute."

"You won't be quite so confident when we're done."

"I'm going to do a little more than knock your ego down a peg," Ida smiled. "Last chance."

They brandished their wands. "Come quietly. We just need to check that your name isn't on the list."

"My name is Ida Hastings, half-blood," she smiled through the red clouding her visions. They swore lowly. She'd forgotten how many she had killed. A couple. A few. Maimed many more than that. They all deserved it. Every last one of them. "You filthy fucks killed my father."

She moved before they did. Red flames turned to autumn leaves, twisting in a storm between her and the Snatchers, each edge lined with frost sharp as a blade. She slashed the throat of one, twisting her arm slightly and sending the leaves to cut at every bit of exposed skin. While they were distracted with that, she took off running. Jets of green light soon followed. Trees jumped to block the path behind her. She raced through foliage, across damp stones. She had to lead them the wrong way before she returned to camp. She could only handle unexpected visitors every so often.

An explosion blew her sideways. She rolled into a tree, shoved herself to her hands and knees before the spinning had her vomiting. Her ears rung. She scrabbled to her dropped wand, wincing at her scraped knees. She spat bile a few times, then heaved again. One of the younger ones appeared next to her with a telltale pop.

"Big words for a little girl. Confundo."

She still had the black, fingerless gloves Charlie had left for her. Backup. In the case she was a split second too slow.

Everyone had insisted she was crazy when she'd first said she could hear Shield Charms. Their hum was wholly unique, somewhere between lights and low electronic buzzing. She could hear it from the gloves, when the boy tried to hex her.

Her death grip on her wand relaxed slightly.

"Just be quiet. There's no one coming to help you. And you aren't getting turned in to the bloody big guys. Not after what you did to my friends."

"Your friends were at least better prepared."

Wands were curious. Their cores, their wood, their making. A tool, the most effective known to mankind. Most of all, they were weapons.

Ida was well acquainted with that aspect of wands, and having a Muggleborn father left her more ingenious with her usage.

She stabbed her seven and a half inch, dragon heartstring cored, apple wooded wand into his eye, then shoved it in as far as she could. His head promptly exploded.

"Shit," Ida groaned, swiping blood and bone bits from her face.

The tree at her back imploded. She felt it shatter for it shattered into her. Splinters in her dark hair. Spikes in her tanned skin. A scream on her lips.

She Apparated. Not far, but far enough. Shouts were distant. She couldn't make it back to her base camp in one go. She'd been scavenging the woods acre by acre, searching for supplies, food, hits of the real world.

She made it into the cave before she dropped once more to her hands and knees. There was a big one in her side. Length of her forearm. At least. Half of it was sticking out of her. Pulling it out would have her losing too much blood, too fast.

A torrent of curses left her. She needed help, and her list of friends had fallen to zero.

Her parents were dead.

Her family was either Muggle or terrified.

Her schoolmates were spread across not just Great Britain, but Europe as a whole, and she couldn't name one who knew how to help her specifically.

Charlie was out of the country.

His family was in hiding.

She was alone.

"Damn it, Ida," she sat against the stone, touching the wood with trembling hands. Take it out. Body Seal Charm. Easy enough. No worse than piercing her friend Terrance's ear. No worse. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

The bleeding stopped. That was good. Her vision pulsed with the roaring in her ears. Not so good. She needed help, she needed to go home, she needed St. Mungo's-

"You're fine, you're fine, you're fine," she blew a little bit of hair out of her face and tried to steady her breathing. The edges of the caves blurred and darkened. "Fine, fine, fine fine finefinefine-"

She tried to Apparate. She knew the risks: without a clear imagine in mind, she could be scattered, splinched, across the country. But if she didn't get help, real help, she was dead.

She landed in a forest, and as she looked up at the moon, unsure of when the sun had fallen, she saw a castle. Her favorite castle.

Hogsmead. She'd gone too Hogsmead. Like an idiot.

She stumbled down the streets, holding her wounded side, groaning when she could not bite her tongue fast enough. She clung to walls and buildings. She half-launched herself across the gaps, steeling herself for the pain of such a venture. She hobbled along until someone shouted.

At which point she promptly fainted.

She woke on the floor, judging by the bottom of the table nearby. It was dirty, the dingy light doing the space no favor. Dozens of school-age children looked down at her, eyes wide. Every house. She didn't understand.

"Ida?"

She groaned, trying to lift her head. Her mouth was dry, and her head had felt better days. She tried to make her eyes focus on the red-head in front of her.

"Please tell me I'm hallucinating."

"Not dreaming?" Charlie grinned slowly. She let her head fall back against the floor. "Give us some space."

The children shuffled away, murmuring amongst themselves. Hogwarts students were always gluttons for gossip. Ida was used to her name being in the rumor mill, though.

"What happened?" Charlie asked. "Why the hell did you bother coming here?"

"Didn't really mean to," Ida held out her hand. He helped her sit. "Why the hell are you here?"

"It's the last battle. Last battle. Aberforth had a portrait open to the DA until a little while ago. Now, we're going to walk. Hopefully get there before everything is said and done," Charlie rushed. Ida tried to parse her way through the words, but between their speed, her head injury, and his penchant for stating things in the most meaningless way possible, she didn't get far.

"Wait, what?"

"I'm leaving. My family is up there. You're staying here, where it's safe."

"Fuck that."

"You can't even sit on your own."

"Give me time."

"I can't afford to."

"Charlie," Ida grumbled. He kissed her forehead softly, lingering long enough to make her worry. "Charlie?"

"If I don't see you again," he whispered. "It'll vastly diminish the quality of my life."

"If you die, I'll kill you," Ida said tightly, gripping his robes in one hand. "So I'm coming with you."

Charlie looked away from her, his lips pinching. She could see the debate raging on his face. "If you can walk on your own by the time the others get here . . . Fine."

"I'll take that bet."

.o0O0o.

Yeet yeet, bitches, I live. I've also started posting my Jily fic up here! Check it out

Guest (the rude one): I get that my 'self-insert' Hermione isn't your cup of tea. Okay. I understand that you won't get so far as to read this response. But, in chapter one, who did I bash again? Ron and Krum? Because Krum is a fan favorite? Or there was no tension between Ron and Hermione during the Yule Ball, where Ron's entitlement and jealousy turn him into an accurate but horrifying depiction of a rejected man-child? Okeeee. Thanks, but no thanks.

123a456e: Hahahaha it's called tension, if I answer the Fred Question, you won't be anxious.

hsherpherd1235: The Fred Question's answer appears in the next chapter. Have fun :D

Hollowg1rl: 'A little pain never hurt anyone' *inserts gif of Salem the Cat laughing*

BratGirl1983: update, as requested

lottiefifi: I know it's not what you wanted, probably, but I had an idea sooooo

Ayeilin: I'm gonna go all George R. R. Martin and tell y'all it's gone be "bittersweet"

mollsballs: Oh, no question about it, Hermione launched herself full force at Bill with intent to tackle and just bounced off him into Ron.

LAWDgivemestrength: *sobbing* I do love you guys, I promise

Msmalloryreads: Thank you so much!

Infernalbooks: Many blessings!

Loneata: *still sobbing* ahhh, thank you so muuuchhhh

Fandomqueen104: I always get excited when I see that you've reviewed. It's been a long time. I love you 3000. I really thought it was odd, when rereading, how little that Harry and Hermione actually interact with the other Weasley siblings. Older siblings are cool, and usually a little bit more of a real person than the sibling that's your friend.